Admin: City, War and Paladins (6)

I desperately wanted to pick up the fallen statue and then drop them onto the Players and pretend I had nothing to do with it. Who knows what magic might exist in divine — ahem, angelic — vaults? Maybe there’s a built-in teleportation magic for the statues? 

After all, they’re all already indestructible, having other functions is not strange, right?

But if that were the case, stealing them would’ve been pointless. Why wouldn’t they just teleport back when someone tries to move them? Plus, their placements were random — except the first one, which I hid in ruins to justify its significance with some ‘ancient ruins’  lore. Others were more shoved into corners, blocked paths, or crammed into crevices to force Players to grind for their retrieval. Teleportation as a lazy answer? Nah. Doesn’t fit.

Respawn? Even I could tell that something would sound off if I did just that. I’d even tied the demon respawns to the storm mechanics, so just respawning the statue without rhyme or reason? Definitely not gonna fly.

I would say that I’m being paranoid, that the Players wouldn’t notice or care, but a bunch of them just decided to try to steal a statue just because!

The double-edged sword of ‘established lore’— they’ll forgive dumb shit if there’s an in-game reason, but that means that I would need to create more lore if I want to change anything. But, if I’m not careful, there would be YouTube videos about how I’ve made countless plot holes in my own story, ‘established lore’ is an ever tightening cage that I build myself. I’ll need to be careful with it

The Players froze, glancing at each other, and the seconds ticked away.

Then I remembered something — even if that preparation wouldn’t solve the problem per se, I’d prepped for this exact scenario!

[Catastrophic Action has destabilized Paradise Garden’s Winds — Storm Incoming! Time until arrival: 10:00.]

This was why I invented the storms in the first place! Enjoy my ‘gift’, Players.

Naturally, the dumb idiots saw the warning, linked its disappearance to the storm, and immediately forgot about the statue. And that’s just fine, let them think that. The storm was actually triggered by my meddling, not some hidden system… But who cares about such trivialities?

And so, with unavoidable death imminent, they bolted as they only have ten minutes to reach shelter before annihilation. They’ll probably cram into the nearest safe zone like subway rats, but they’re not my problem anymore. 

My problem starts now. What to do with the statue? Claim that it had shattered? Players know it’s indestructible, though. A few already tried to whack the statues with sticks during testing and gave up after hours of doing so without even causing a chip. 

But the damage from that fall? Absurd. Plus, it vanished into the cursed gray smoke, so it might as well be lost to the Players. Destroyed or not destroyed didn’t matter when it's unreachable either way.

Does that mean one of the Angels would just be gone for good? Well, losing a key NPC before their official debut? Players might forgive me, but the idiot Players that had caused it to happen? Very unlikely. While they’re anonymous now, well, one of them would be stupid enough to brag, or post what they did anonymously to the forum, and they’ll get tracked. Because of course they would, the Internet is scary like that, and gamers are all just one step away from being autistic savants. 

The thieves will definitely get bullied into quitting. 

I could shrug and just say that ‘shit happens’, but having that happen, losing Players, even if it’s not my fault, would be bad PR for my track record. And since my track record is the only thing keeping me alive? I want to avoid any mark on it as much as possible.

So, what could I do?

So far, I’ve excused the flaws in the game, at least the ones that the Players had discovered, by saying that it’s ‘intentional’, like that missing Quality of Life features as the game being ‘hardcore’. Or saying that the missing PvP was for ‘anti-pk measures’, even when I never coded it in the first place. Well, there’s the Demon Cultists now, and the whole war shebang, so the blood lusting Players could now have their fill.

But defending a ‘toxic community’ that bullied Players into quitting with ‘I meant to do that’? 

It would be a very tough battle to win. The bosses are almost laissez-faire with my calls, requests, and decisions, but if I start costing them profits? They’ll flip.

So, what the hell do I do now?

A whirlwind of thoughts raced through my mind, and ideas quickly popped up – but most were far from ideal. Obviously, even if I would let the thieves get bullied out of the game, it would only be the first minor blemish on my personal record and reputation. No one would disconnect me from game administration or the life-support system immediately over such a thing. 

But a tarnished reputation was still a loss — and not a small one either, as building it back up would be much harder.

My mind circled the issue again, probing every corner and crevice, before reluctantly returning to that uncomfortable truth.

I needed Jabberwocky.

Technically, any other player could be used to craft the statue, but for its ‘consecration’, the one-and-only Paladin in the entire game was required. After all, we couldn’t let every player spawn ten personalized statues, ‘just in case’. 

Let Jabberwocky handle that nonsense instead…

“Wait…!”

A stroke of genius illuminated my mind, and I smirked.

Didn’t I just think that the game lacked quests and that nobody was exploring my newly created zone?

Well, there’s one solution for that.

***

Jabberwocky, the person behind the alias, had, as usual, wrapped up his daily chores and barely survived his work shift before rushing home. He gulped down the reheated soup from yesterday as his supper, skipped forum browsing as he’d already heard the rumors of some insane, mass-scale event overnight, and dove straight back into his immersion capsule.

Yesterday, he’d seized a golden opportunity to defend his humble domain – a lone, fledgling city, amid the rise of the first guilds, while fending off the pushiest of them. Today, he was met with wild tales of a demon-worshiping guild and an angel’s death caused by a dozen Players who’d either shattered, cursed, or yeeted one of their statues into an abyss.

So Jabberwocky logged in urgently, and after two minutes of loading, he spawned where he’d last logged out: the center of his settlement, which was still closer to a refugee camp than a village, let alone a city. He didn’t even get a chance to survey the scattered tents and dugouts around him, the moment he loaded in, a glaring system notification dominated his vision.

—

[Unbroken Cycle]

[The loss of a Great Angel is neither the first nor last in an eternal cycle of rebirth—a wheel turning like the sun, sowing seeds for new growth and reaping what has withered. Death holds no terror for such beings, but the ancient bond with one of the Great Angels must be restored. The shattered isles of the Celestial Garden offer no answers, but perhaps within the Shattered City’s demon-infested ruins and blasphemous relics, you may find a way…]

[Stage: 1 of ??? | Recommended Level: 30]

—

Jabberwocky licked his lips in anticipation. Finally, a new quest! And not one locked behind triple-digit level requirements, but a reasonable Level 30 instead, achievable within a week of grinding! 

Better yet, the multi-stage design hinted at an epic chain of quests, with rewards behind them! Or maybe it tied back to his previous quests, awakening the Angels and founding this very settlement?

What was slightly unusual was that this quest appeared after some Players attempted to steal or destroy, opinions among the Players diverged here, an Angel statue. Could this be one of the hidden quests? If so, Jabberwocky could only pat himself on the back for already securing three hidden quests in this game.

Alternatively, it might be one of the ‘alternative path’ quests, a chain that leads to the same outcome through different conditions or routes. But even then, Jabberwocky wasn’t about to complain. Why would he, when it was a quest pushing him forward? He hadn’t grinded through the same storyline five times in a row just to demand a radically new plot from the game.

‘But really, the Developers thought of everything, huh?’

That said, the thought of other Players carelessly smashing the angel statues made Jabberwocky frown. He ought to inform his followers, and maybe the other Players, about this possibility and, ideally, farm all these Angel Statues for safekeeping, and who better than Jabberwocky to take on the role of their protector?

Along the way, he’d convince other player guilds to deploy their forces to assist Jabberwocky in constructing a portal to a new zone. War was war, but they’d hardly go against the Main Quest’s will.

***

On the opposite side of the game world, Ja-Raja, who’d logged in nearly the same time as Jabberwocky did, stared at the quest hovering before him. Despite its obvious connection to Jabberwocky’s situation, this quest was different.

—

[Broken Cycle]

[The First Statue of the Great Angel has been toppled and destroyed—neither the first nor the last such event in this chain. Yet this is no victory. The demonic legions see it only as an auspicious omen for their campaign, for the angels will return. To sever their ties to this world permanently—or even annihilate them—requires more than the Heavenly Garden can offer. Perhaps answers lie among the Broken City’s ruins, amidst the remnants of shattered secrets and crumbled spires?]

[Stage: 1 of ??? | Recommended Level: 30]

—

Ja-Raja shook his head. He’d monitored the forum discussions and intel about the botched statue heist, he’d even heard firsthand from those who’d tried to steal it. After realizing their mistake and weathering the backlash, they’d flocked to Ja-Raja’s demon-worshiper faction almost immediately, earning the [Blasphemer] title and a demonic pact. 

Their gamble, even if their reason for trying to steal the statue in the first place is somewhat nonsensical, had paid off. And Ja-Raja needed recruits now more than ever.

His acceptance of the thieves sparked a proposal among his followers, the former ‘Purple Ones’ now rebranding themselves as ‘Infernals’ for edginess. The name was no worse than others, and a catchy label helped unify the group, so Ja-Raja approved.

Most of the now-named Infernals embraced the choice, though not all. They understood aligning with the demon-worshipers would drastically alter their gameplay experience, and so the once-largest faction had hemorrhaged members. But Ja-Raja welcomed even dubious allies, especially now, when after news broke of an open demon-worshiper Guild, the other factions intensified their hunts for him. 

Ja-Raja wasn’t sure if they’d figured out that he was actually involved with the Demon Worshipers, or that the people that had left his Guild had leaked it. Or if the other Factions just decided to just use the emergence of a Demon-Worshiper guild as another reason to destroy him, ‘just in case’.

Still, the situation would stabilize once his underlings grinded enough levels through PK, but until then, he’d have to endure. So, talk of launching full-scale raids was pointless, let alone contesting Jabberwocky’s portal in his city — now unofficially dubbed the ‘Start’ by the Players. Stupid name really, but then asking for creativity from Gamers is a tough ask.

All Ja-Raja could do was seek another path to the new zone, and, to Ja-Raja’s own fortune, this was exactly what he had been doing recently. The war for pirate ships continued, even if other Players had almost forgotten about it, and even a single captured vessel would grant him an inconvenient but viable path to the new zone.

For now, this remained only in Ja-Raja’s plans and ambitions, but he would undoubtedly level up enough to the point where a full-scale assault on his enemies would become feasible. Even if he lost such a battle, the mere act of PK’ing others would only empower him further for the next time he’d try.

In other words, the demonic faction’s nature truly justified itself – warfare was simply more profitable for demon-aligned players than peace.

However, this could create another problem – if a lucky Player killed too many other Players and became stronger than Ja-Raja and began dictating terms, who could say whether Ja-Raja would remain the leader of the emergent Infernals?

Evidently, the demon kingdom was meant to be exactly as fantasy tropes 

demanded – chaotic, warlike, and eternally steeped in intrigue…

On the other hand, Ja-Raja couldn’t deny he liked the idea.

Why not role-play as the archetypal ‘Dark Lord’ hellbent on world domination, even if just in a game?

***

I watched as the two future arch-nemeses – Ja-Raja and Jabberwocky, closed their newly received system messages and pondered.

At least I really hoped that they’d become arch-nemeses, otherwise my efforts to pit them against each other and design mutually exclusive quests were wasted. 

While casually resolving in-game issues and subtly manipulating players into conflict, I’d accidentally stumbled into crafting actual lore. Not one that I overtly created, but one that is organically created, something that emerged naturally from my hands without overthinking about it. 

Specifically, while trying to write elegant quest descriptions, I’d created a story that hinted that similar events must have had occurred in the past, something that even Angelic Entities couldn’t solve. It felt fitting and logical, unexpectedly creating lore reasons why Angels and Demons warred in the first place, and the cyclical nature of the game’s world.

No matter how often I considered the plot, lore, or broader world-building, I’d always procrastinate. Though to be fair to myself, given the more urgent tasks I had, like squashing game breaking bugs and creating the game in the first place, Lore was not that important. 

But now, by accident, I’d stumbled upon an idea worth expanding.

Why did Demons and Angels originally clash, beyond the trite reasons like ‘good vs. evil’ binary? Sure, that works for generic fantasy, but why let players join the ‘evil’ faction otherwise? 

As I had established in the game, the Angels had been ‘slain’ and banished repeatedly, yet always returned. Moreover, as the epic Angel-Demon War occurred eons ago, forgotten by all, how did that happen if the Angels and Demons could return?

The Conclusion, or at least the direction that I’m going to lead the game into? It was that the Angels and Demons here aren’t absolute good and absolute evil, instead they represent Order and Chaos. 

The world is cyclical. 

Perhaps even the Great War had repeated infinitely, a terrifying future plot twist for Players. Each cycle, the Angels triumphed, perpetuating rebirth and existence — a ‘good’ stance for beings preserving the status quo so life thrives.

The Demons, meanwhile, sought to break the cycle… Because they suffered? Maybe I’d need to invent the reason for their angst or crib forum theories, something appropriately edgy either way. 

Anyway, the Demons rebel to end cyclical suffering — maybe I’ll blend Christian themes with Buddhist rebirth motifs? The reincarnation system’s already in-game anyway. 

And I’m sure the bosses would love selling this East-meets-West mystique, it should be able to be sold to a wider audience after all. More Money = Happy Bosses, a simple equation.

And so, from these ideas and pondering, the titles for the quest chains accidentally emerged, one about an unbreakable cycle, the other about breaking it. Both ultimately boil down to a vague directive to ‘gather your party and move to the next zone.’’. A zone which, by the way, I nearly finished overnight. 

All that remained was to finalize the last major zone in the Shattered City.

The Shattered City marked my transition from a mindset of ‘slapping together whatever works just to get it done yesterday’ to one of ‘everything here exists for a purpose’. This meant shifting from desperate patchwork to zones carrying meaningful design, gameplay functions, light lore integration like new crafting materials, recipes, skills, and even small lore notes. 

I made sure to archive the note contents for future reference to avoid nasty surprises, considering half this game’s legacy is already a mess. Also, added hidden caches, battle arenas, and scripted ‘mini-bosses’, reskinned mobs with tweaked stats really with new abilities, and rudimentary tactics. I even deployed temporary AI subroutines to control these mini-bosses, tasked with observing the Players and adapting. 

Combined with the new spells, mob types, and terrain design, this zone evolved into something functional and intentional, not a desperate rush-job. Not a masterpiece of game design, but a milestone in my growth as a game world architect.

What I lacked now were bosses, key NPCs, and minigames.

Bosses were needed to provide the first real raid challenge for Players climbing the progression ladder. Key NPCs would grant players proper tools for interacting with the world and main storyline. While Minigames would offer alternatives to combat while boosting Player retention and engagement. 

From a broader perspective, these elements are standard in MMOs, but for me, NPCs and minigames also solved the understanding issues with the Fake Players, the player-emulating AIs. The bosses, meanwhile, would serve as both a gateway challenge and a narrative catalyst.

As for the key NPC that still needed to be created? I had an image of a supremely powerful yet clueless child — an angelic avatar the Players would ‘raise’. His endless ‘childlike’ questions, e.g., Why do people fight?, would mask the machine-learning algorithms training the NPCs from scratch. The Shattered City’s broken angel statues, previously just a nice prop, provided perfect lore cover. 

The child angel would be the Angel’s reincarnated form, an avatar, or a mortal vessel. Ultimately, he’d be a quest hub tied to the Angel’s resurrection arc.

As for the minigames, they’d train the NPCs’ ability to mimic human movement and tactics, avoiding the uncanny valley by simulating diverse combat scenarios. One of the games I’d designed would be where Players would ‘command’ mock armies in a streamlined, AFK-friendly PvP skirmishes. Choosing units, formations, and strategies, then watching the clash unfold. 

Rewards would include minor EXP rewards and cosmetics. Lore-wise, this would tie to the Angelic child’s fractured connection to the past, letting the Players ‘relive’ historic battles as generals. 

A leaderboard for top tacticians on the forums and throwaway skill unlocks would encourage participation. Most importantly, Players nurturing the Angelic NPC would earn hefty EXP, incentivizing crowds to engage with the parenting sim.

In any case, in reality, the AI would memorize these battles, analyze them collectively to identify successful and unsuccessful strategies, then generate an arena below the clouds and run simulations. These weren’t the simplified versions I’d created before, but full-scale replicas with variables like unit compositions, command patterns, and their commands tweaked multiple times. The results would then be compared to the Players’ result. 

The top-performing simulations would then be selected for further refinement, new variables, new iterations, until another AI detected common patterns across all outcomes and synthesized them. Rinse and repeat until, with a metaphorical snap of fingers, the ‘small mini-game’ would actually train the AI to realize that Minotaurs didn’t need armor, as they were already tanky and overpowered for their enemies. 

Perhaps, after testing how they’d move with armor, calculate the mobility penalties, compared it to their base movements, and distilled their default behavior, a Player casually testing armorless Minotaurs would inadvertently teach the AI to optimize their pathing. 

Now imagine scaling such a thing to thousands of Players grinding XP while taking a break from raids? 

Genius. I invented an AI whose neural chains are literally woven with human input.

While that was the reason for the Minigame, the boss would instead serve three purposes:

One, crowning the exploration of the Shattered City and serve as its final, most epic raid encounter to date. Second, trigger the mini-game’s activation and introduce a pivotal story NPC. And third, explain the lore of the ancient Higher Entities’ contact with this world, while avoiding yet another generic Demon as the boss.

So, instead of a brainless mini-boss, I designed a Unique Boss with custom visuals, voice lines, and a dedicated NPC-AI controller. His placeholder name? ‘Mad Prophet’ – a decrepit, half-celestial scholar who’d discovered a way to commune with the Angels. But the ritual backfired, scarring him, draining his power, and warping reality itself. Prolonged exposure to these anomalies drove him insane, so he sealed himself behind arcane barriers. 

Players had to clear three ‘Advanced Districts’ in the Shattered City to disable the barrier anchors and confront him.

During the Boss raid, the Mad Prophet would drop cryptic lines about the world’s cyclical nature before unleashing cataclysmic AoE attacks, wiping roughly five player zergs before falling to a coordinated assault. His death would trigger a containment breach in the reality anomaly, creating a ‘Temporal Rift’, a gateway for the mini-game’s army-management mechanics and birthing an Anomaly Child, my NPC.

Post-raid, this NPC would mention that Jabberwocky, hopefully having upgraded Start, a really stupid name really, into a proper village by then was nearing completion, satisfying the Angels. The ruler’s crown then would soon pass to the Child, provided Players taught it governance… and everything else via side quests. 

A Bonus for completing the Quests would be that the Child would also unlock a revamped portal in the starter city, a gateway to a new zone.

It was the cleanest, most satisfying design doc I’d ever written.

I could see it falling like dominoes… But who was I kidding? The Players would absolutely find a way to nuke this timeline too.