Despite no direct player interactions recorded with the gods thus far, they can make a profound impact on the world through the actions of players. If a player performs an act in the service of a god, typically through uncommon quests given out by holy orders, the player is often rewarded with faith points for that deity. These faith points are an expendable resource which allow players to perform miraculous feats that would otherwise be impossible. For example, one who has earned faith points in the service of Gae`el, Goddess of Storms, may expend their points to bring restorative rain to a water-starved region, or summon up a maelstrom to sink pursuing ships.
There is no guide, nor guarantee, with faith points, however. Despite the outcome, once faith points are spent, they are all spent—often with impotent, humorous, or disastrous results. Asking for a massive dragon as a personal mount may end up summoning a runt incapable of flight, or a spiteful creature that loathes anyone foolish enough to attempt riding it. The lack of knowledge regarding how many points are needed for a request, as well as the ambiguity as to which god is the correct one for the job, means that expending faith points in grand ways can be and usually is a perilous endeavor. No one wants to be known as the player with four additional lame legs which regrow no matter what because they wished for the wrong thing in the wrong way.
Some gods are particularly difficult to curry favor with. In all of Corbin’s searching, he couldn’t find any religious factions openly supporting Arstak, God of Luck; Tempas, of Time; Nokti, of Destruction; or Syvil, of Death. There were rumors about hidden sects for Nokti and Syvil, but nothing at all for Arstak and Tempas. This was of odd because, on his recent escapade, Corbin had received a message informing him that he could reclaim the lost temple of Arstak for his followers. This meant to Corbin that, somewhere in the world, there must be followers of the trickster god. He expected that somewhere an avaristic merchant organization, or perhaps a guild of thieves, must worship fortune personified.
Despite no formal church, there were many reports of players gaining faith points with Arstak in a seemingly random manner. Although there was no clear evidence, the predominant theory was that if a player did something Arstak found interesting, the deity would reward that player with his favor. Players using faith points given to them by Arstak, however, have almost always received perverse interpretations of what they requested. Cited as a cautionary tale, one top player by the name of Sline requested that “All my attacks be critical strikes” in an attempt to gain outrageous power. This was the first major wish made to Arstak, before the god was known to twist requests, otherwise Sline would have known to choose his words more carefully. From that moment onwards, all attacks made against Sline were indeed critical strikes. In his defense, another player used Sline’s failure as a building block and wished that “All of the attacks I make on other entities should hit them, exactly as I want, and produce the damage of a critical attack, preferably by being a critical attack” and Arstak answered the request by taking away the joints in his leg and quintupling the size of his head and hindquarters. The God of Mischief could have made the player’s critical strikes deal less damage than a normal attack or attempted to twist the request in some other manner, but most speculate that Arstak’s blunt approach there was because he simply doesn’t abide wiseasses.
Corbin halted his search here. He found himself spiraling down a rabbit hole of dubiously useful information. Gods, Mordurin, and the edgemaster class… Despite all of his searching, the answers Corbin really wanted could only be found through Chronicle. “Pixie, how long has it been since I’ve left the capsule?”
A little fae creature flew out of the screen in front of Corbin. “Five hours and 20 minutes,” the critically acclaimed voice of his AugSys rang out like harmonic birdsong.
Corbin didn’t much care for hearing he still had almost six hours remaining even after his mostly fruitless search for information. He decided he’d have an early lunch and walked a long six paces into his connected kitchen.
“Pack it,” Corbin used the preset voice command to initiate his Pacquet brand Print-n-Grille.
“It’s brunch time! What can I make for you? If you’d like a list of options, I—” Corbin wasn’t particularly interested in hearing the list of options his food printer could give him ever again. He stocked the machine with packets, and therefore knew the extent of its capabilities.
“I’ll have a green bean casserole.”
“You got it, boss! I’ll have that green bean casserole ready for you in seven minutes. Say, while you wait, there’s a limited time offer from CaughtUp I can’t wait to tell you about.”
A small augmented reality window opened up, hovering in the air a few feet in front of Corbin’s face. He thought it might be an interesting experiment to try staring at a wall the next time his Print-n-Grille pushed products and service at him. “An advertisement with every meal.” Dakkon sighed. He had time to wait, however, and would love the distraction of something new to hate.
“Are you busy? Do you not have time for the hundreds of popular programs that your friends, family, and coworkers are engrossed with? Then you need CaughtUp. Our talented staff analyzes episodes from every highly popular show, cast, and many streams to break them down into bite-sized and easily digestible pieces. Why slog through a boring drama just to stay caught up when you could simply spend a few minutes with CaughtUp and learn exactly what’s happening! Our service has an enormous clip library to—” Corbin had his fill.
“Print-n-Grille volume mute,” said Corbin. He patiently waited for his meal and ate it hot, slightly scalding the palate of his mouth. What would he do with the next five and a half hours as he waited to get back into his game? He considered going out. Weekends were typically when he explored the city or—occasionally—spent time with his ever-dwindling group of more successful friends from college. He hadn’t been invited to do anything yet, but he knew deep down that if anyone had asked, his recent acquisition of a chron pod would take precedence over his spare time. Soon after the thought had crossed his mind, Corbin had suppressed any desire to leave his apartment in favor of learning more about his newest hobby.
Having a full, perhaps overstuffed, belly Corbin compared pricings of items on official marketplaces versus secondary markets for anything and everything one would sell within Chronicle. These sites came in the form of virtual markets and auctions alike. One could buy real estate, gear, mounts, consumables, and more providing they had the extra money to dispose of, and most sites kept logs of the most valuable items sold. It seemed to indicate that whenever a particularly advanced player found an upgrade for themselves, they would sell their older gear for a tidy profit. Apparently, many players could make their living entirely through the game. Some sold their old gear for thousands, and in rarer cases, tens of thousands of credits. After close to four years of time inside the game, the market still appeared to be growing. The right weapon or piece of armor could feasibly give a wealthy buyer an edge that would allow them to progress and accomplish more than their peers. The world is a place where those with wealth separate themselves from the masses through liberal use of their money, and Chronicle was no exception.