Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 56931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
She smiles, but her eyes narrow for a moment. A note of tension I feel certain no one else has noticed.
“Aw, thanks,” she says. “But to be honest, I wasn’t trying to look hot. I was just trying not to die!”
She laughs it off, then starts going through her home and repairing furniture the enemies broke. She casually talks to her viewers as she does so, responding to queries. I find myself leaning closer. Getting sucked into the stream.
“Fair point,” she murmurs. “But I’m not sure that would be a good idea, really. Think about it. We already work with other players during bosses and dungeons. These enemy raids are supposed to be us, on our own, protecting our player-built houses. If they let us invite other players, it might ruin that. I don’t know?”
The added I don’t know as if she’s not sure bothers me more than it should. She is sure, but she added that to placate the men in her audience. So, she doesn’t come across as a know-it-all woman.
“You don’t have to do that,” I murmur under my breath.
I spend twenty minutes just watching her navigate the game I built. Flying her giant eagle to the city center, selling the troll skins she harvested from the raid monsters, then heading toward the mage’s quarters, where the teleportation portals are.
“See, guys?” she says, eyes bright and vivacious, smile magnetic. “No one is going to the Cove! Just look.”
I clench my jaw. She’s right. As she stands there, the Cove portal remains untouched. Ignored. All that hard work…
“So,” she goes on. “For all you people claiming that I’m being a sour puss, here’s your proof. Jackson Cross, it’s time to fix this!”
Pop.
The tennis ball explodes.
I didn’t even realize it was in my hand.
I log in to my account on the website. Donate two hundred dollars to her stream with a message.
TheRealCreator: No offense, but you’re wrong about the Cove. Message me back if you want more information.
“Oh, wow,” Dakota says, laughing gorgeously. “I suppose with a name like The Real Creator, I should expect some… let’s call it confidence, eh?” She winks at the camera. “Thank you for your generous donation, Creator. Really. But I don’t think you’re going to change my mind about the Cove.”
A moment later, a private message pops up on my screen.
DakkyDuck: Go ahead, Mr. Creator, but if you say anything silly, I WILL be sharing it. You’ve been warned.
I’m impressed by her ability to continue playing the game and interacting with her chat as she types this out, then sends it.
My head feels full of steam. Mind flashing with the countless hours spent working on the Cove. The disappointment I felt when no one seemed to get it.
TheRealCreator: There are five enemy varieties in some caves. FIVE. That’s more than any other area. Plus, they all have unique skillsets. That was one of the main criticisms for a long time: limited skillsets.
She continues playing, but somehow—perhaps typing fragments of messages between gameplay—she replies. And her response swells my respect for her even as it pours ice-cold water on my ego.
DakkyDuck: That’s true, but I would argue this is a negative. Players have been clamoring for more variety, so Halcyon loads all this hard work into one specific end-game area? Meaning, levelling players don’t get to experience it, and high-level players will get annoyed by constantly being killed by different abilities when they’re trying to farm materials for the late game. Halcyon should have spread out these enemies and made the Cove a straight farming zone.
I massage my head. Fucking hell. Is she right?
TheRealCreator: Just because you know how to play the game, it doesn’t mean you know how to program one.
She doesn’t reply right away. Giving me time to look at my message and realize I’m being petty. But that doesn’t stop the tension from twisting through me.
DakkyDuck: Are you going to get nasty now, Creator? Your donation was very generous, which is why I’m messaging you. But you sound triggered.
Because I am triggered. She’s talking about my baby here.
TheRealCreator: I’m not one of those goddamn weirdos. I’m not going to simp for you or pretend not to want you while I sniff your digital panties. I saw, earlier, the way you handled one of them. All smiles. All confidence. But your eyes creased like you wanted to scream. As if you were sick of this shit. I don’t blame you.
For a moment, on camera, she looks stunned. Her cheeks flush. She twists her hair around her finger and bites her lip. Then her eyes flit to the camera, and it’s like she wakes up, realizing she’s lapsed.
Her chat is full of messages, all asking if something is wrong.
CHAPTER 3
DAKOTA
Iquickly snap back to reality, realizing I’ve been quiet for almost ten seconds. Which, in streaming terms, is a lifetime. I drag Creator’s message to the edge of my screen, deciding to reply to it later. But then he adds another message.