Standing by Vallenza’s plaque, Luca observed that at least the feeling of contemptuous impatience had been replaced by a stirring of curious excitement he hadn’t experienced in years. It felt both powerful and refreshing after all this time.
He turned to the two young men standing behind him, matching sparks of crimson fire lighting up their eyes. “Dante said it was time you both began making decisions as men,” he said, “so, here’s your chance. Alesandro, you will open up trade negotiations with Vincent Corsini that strongly favor the Albergo family. Make it plain to him that he would do well to accept your business terms or he’ll find himself sharing his father’s fate. Be as obvious or as subtle as you wish. The days of hiding are over.
“You,” he turned a jaundiced gaze on Drey. “Will find your way past the wards on the ducal mausoleum and obtain components from Johanni Gagio’s body and any others you find within. You will accomplish this within the week or you will answer to Piero for it.”
Turning, he caught sight of the manservant waiting for him at the cemetery gates, his expression one of barely concealed disapproval.
“I’ll give you both just two pieces of advice,” Luca continued. “One: listen to your lieutenants, especially when they tell you that you can’t trust your own sons.”
He turned to go, and Drey made an inquisitive noise.
“What?”
“The second piece of advice, father?”
“Never have sons in the first place.”
Turning, the premier Death Mage of Riamo took his leave, already planning the next step in his conquest of the city.
LOSER TAKES ALL by Donald J. Bingle
Clint Hardaway hit the reply button before he had even finished scanning the IM from his college buddy Jason.
“Thought I might try UO.”
“Ultimate Overlord? LOL. Man, you do have time on your hands. I try to limit myself to two hours a night. Let me know when you’re in universe. Lots of nasties to kill. Just be sure to save some for me.”
“We’ll see,” typed Clint. “TTFN.” He clicked off the IM box without waiting for a reply, and clicked the link for Ultimate Overlord. Acknowledging Conditions of Use that he didn’t bother to read, he filled out some forms, entered the number of his platinum Amex card and got ready to play. He clicked by the credits and went to the opening screen.
“Can you become the ULTIMATE OVERLORD? The path is unclear, the rules unknown. There is no luck but the luck you make, no rewards but the rewards you earn. Everyone starts equal, but some prove themselves superior by their actions. The ultimate challenge awaits you in a universe beyond your imagining. Click here to begin your journey.”
A bit hokey, to be sure, but Clint liked the approach. No tutorial of how to play and what to do. No long lists of things to do, puzzles to solve, or rules to memorize. You learned as you experienced the game, just like in life.
Of course, he knew that there were rules. Every universe has rules.
From overarching principles of cosmic import to minor fads of fashion, there were always rules that you must learn to survive, that you must master and bend to get ahead. He liked that the site said nothing about what those rules were. That would be too easy. More challenging, more interesting, to figure them out for yourself. By trial and error, by deductive reasoning, by publication, by rumor, and by stealth, you must discern cause and effect, the algorithms, formulae, and step-functions that determine success and failure, fame and fortune, life and death.
That’s life, a random search for Easter eggs of hidden knowledge in a stark and unforgiving landscape.
Clint lived, had always lived, to parse out the rules and bend them to his own advantage. There was, he knew, no other way to become the Ultimate Overlord.
Even before he clicked to start the scenario, however, he made some decisions about the rules that would govern his character.
Rule No. 1. The Ultimate Overlord Is Evil. The first rule was the simplest to intuit. There’s no way to become the ruler of the universe without being evil. Those who believe in goodness believe in all sorts of other warm, fuzzy, touchy-feely concepts, like kindness and consensus and democratic values and giving to those too poor to fend for themselves. This universe, he deduced, would not tolerate such suckers. No one wields ultimate power by committee; no one gains all by being nice. No one gets ahead by giving away what they have to others, whether goods or knowledge.
Besides, the good don’t want to rule the world. They want the world to rule the world. They don’t crave power. They crave happiness, but not for themselves. For others. For everyone. As if a limited supply of happiness could stretch so thin. As if happiness could exist if suffering did not exist for contrast.
In a world of limited resources and complex rules regarding their distribution, collection, and expenditure, knowledge, he knew, was power. He chuckled lightly to himself as he remembered his clueless high school chemistry teacher writing that in his yearbook: “Knowledge Is Power.” And even then, he had known the corollary: “Power Corrupts. Absolute Power Corrupts Absolutely.” So, if you were ultimately going to be corrupted anyway, why not start out that way? It eased the path.
And let’s be clear what is meant by evil. Selfish, underhanded, maniacal depravity with the sole focus of gathering power for greater and greater selfish, underhanded, maniacal depravity.
People always undersold evil. Your boss, whoever he may be, is not evil. Evil does not golf. It does not listen to management books on tape in traffic. It does not hatch diabolical plots to get a reserved parking space or rush to grab the cream-filled doughnut at a staff meeting in a conference room with comfy, adjustable chairs. It does not offer vacation time, sick days, 401(k) plans, or health insurance, no matter how crappy. It does not obsess about its receding hairline. It does not count paper clips or goof off at the water cooler.
Evil eats what it kills and sometimes eats what is still alive, even if it’s not really hungry. It always wins or it destroys the game so that no one else can. It works constantly, relentlessly toward its own ends.
Your boss is not evil. You could kill your boss. You cannot destroy evil.
To win, he would need to be evil.
He had no problem with that.
Click.
Gafnar shielded his eyes and looked about the landscape. It was a barren and vile place. No water but the salty sea that had spat him onto this foreign shore. No vegetation but the blackened husks of trees burned long ago, offering no shade, no fruit, no fuel to ease his journey. The land itself was rocky and cracked by drought, a gusty wind tearing the last remnants of topsoil and blasting it into his burning eyes. Other than a few others like himself, the only creatures moving across the face of desolation were the rats. Thousands, hundreds of thousands, of ravenous rats, rampaging toward the fresh meat that had been tossed ashore by the storm and lay quivering in shock. He was that fresh meat, an offering to the rats. But Gafnar did not accept that fate; he did not even hesitate to ponder his fate. He did not wait for the horde to come to him, biting and gnawing. No, he moved toward the foul vermin and began to kill, expending every bit of strength he had left in a frenzy of death to celebrate his own life. Only later did he learn that he could eat the rats, skin their hides, loot their nests for shiny valuables. These benefits were worthwhile, but the killing was essential.
Rule No. 2. Hard Work Is Required to Become the Ultimate Overlord. Most people, he knew, played at life. They skimmed along doing the bare minimum needed to continue on their mediocre existence. They lived to joke and entertain themselves and their friends. They had no purpose, no drive. They didn’t play to win. They played not to lose or, worse yet, just to enjoy the game.