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chitoryu12
Apr 24, 2014



I guess we all had to get here at some point.

Ready Player One is a 2011 novel by creepy neckbeard Ernest Cline. As a man who grew up in the 1980s, Cline is a man who defines himself and his generation by the media they consumed. This is his car, and I'm not even loving kidding:



RPO is a book by and for people who define themselves by pop culture. It's a book for people who get a Jurassic Park sticker on their jeep despite having only seen the movies once and not really remembering the third one, have a weekly podcast with 5 regular listeners about 80s movies, and still try to tell girls they don't know anything about Batman unless they can explain exactly what Zur-En-Arrh is. It's for people who have no personality once the veneer of pop culture references is stripped away, and people who can never really explain what their hobbies are beyond consuming media.

Despite being widely derided on Something Awful as vapid and boring, RPO has been wildly successful and is two weeks away from the release of a Steven Spielburg film adaptation. After a while I started to worry about potentially being called out for criticizing it without actually having read it, so I decided to grab a Kindle copy and see if the complete text really is as bad as that excerpt everyone has seen.

Yeah, that's basically the whole book.

This will be a read-along with me, as I've only read the first two chapters and part of the third at the time of this OP. I do know the vague plot synopsis and the ending thanks to Wikipedia so it's not going to be an utter surprise, but I don't know how deep the pop culture rabbit hole goes. I also feel like this will help people really decide on their feelings about the book and be able to truthfully tell people "This is why it sucks".

I'd come up with some cheesy 80s reference to lead into this but you're going to have enough of that bullshit when I start updating. Let's just get this over with.

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chitoryu12
Apr 24, 2014

PJOmega posted:

Chitoryu I simultaneously salute you and worry about you for your dedication to Let's Reads of horrible books. Shine bright you crazy diamond.

I have to do something when slacking at work.

chitoryu12
Apr 24, 2014

Before we begin, let's look at some of the praise put at the beginning of the book and decide whether or not to ironically weep.

quote:

“[An] adrenaline shot of uncut geekdom … sweet, self-deprecating Wade, whose universe is an odd mix of the real past and the virtual present, is the perfect lovable/unlikely hero.”
—Publishers Weekly

“The pure, unfettered brainscream of a child of the ’80s, like a dream my thirteen-year-old self would have had after bingeing on Pop Rocks and Coke.… I couldn’t put it down.”
—Charles Ardai, Edgar Award–winning author and producer of Haven

“Pure geek heaven. Ernest Cline’s hero competes in a virtual world with life-and-death stakes—which is only fitting, because he’s fighting to make his dreams into reality. Cline blends a dystopic future with meticulously detailed nostalgia to create a story that will resonate in the heart of every true nerd.”
—Christopher Farnsworth, author of Blood Oath

“A fantastic adventure set in a futuristic world with a retro heart. Once I started reading, I didn’t want to put it down and I couldn’t wait to pick it back up.”
—S. G. Browne, author of Breathers

“Cline has somehow managed to jack into the nervous system of some great warm collective geek-dream nostalgia of the ’70s and ’80s and used the precious touchstones he’s rediscovered there to create an adventure that’s almost more experienced than read.… Ready Player One let me romp through some of the best memories of my youth.”
—Paul Malmont, author of The Chinatown Death Cloud Peril

“Imagine that Dungeons and Dragons and an ’80s video arcade made hot, sweet love, and their child was raised in Azeroth. If you’re not already experiencing a nerdgasm at the thought, I don’t want to know you.”
—John Scalzi, New York Times bestselling author of Old Man’s War

“Ready Player One expertly mines a copious vein of 1980s pop culture, catapulting the reader on a light-speed adventure in an advanced but backward-looking future. If this book were a living room, it would be wood-paneled. If it were shoes, it would be high-tops. And if it were a song, well, it would have to be ‘Eye of the Tiger.’ I really, really loved it.”
—Daniel H. Wilson, author of Robopocalypse

“I was blown away by this book.… Ernie Cline has pulled the raddest of all magic tricks: He’s managed to write a novel that’s at once serious and playful, that is as fun to read as it is harrowing. A book of ideas, a potboiler, a game-within-a-novel, a serious science-fiction epic, a comic pop-culture mash-up—call this novel what you will, but Ready Player One will defy every label you try to put on it. Here, finally, is this generation’s Neuromancer.”
—Will Lavender, New York Times bestselling author of Obedience

If this is our generation's Neuromancer, does that mean all future cyberpunk is just going to be pop culture references?

chitoryu12
Apr 24, 2014

quote:

Everyone my age remembers where they were and what they were doing when they first heard about the contest. I was sitting in my hideout watching cartoons when the news bulletin broke in on my video feed, announcing that James Halliday had died during the night.

I’d heard of Halliday, of course. Everyone had. He was the videogame designer responsible for creating the OASIS, a massively multiplayer online game that had gradually evolved into the globally networked virtual reality most of humanity now used on a daily basis. The unprecedented success of the OASIS had made Halliday one of the wealthiest people in the world.

At first, I couldn’t understand why the media was making such a big deal of the billionaire’s death. After all, the people of Planet Earth had other concerns. The ongoing energy crisis. Catastrophic climate change. Widespread famine, poverty, and disease. Half a dozen wars. You know: “dogs and cats living together … mass hysteria!” Normally, the newsfeeds didn’t interrupt everyone’s interactive sitcoms and soap operas unless something really major had happened. Like the outbreak of some new killer virus, or another major city vanishing in a mushroom cloud. Big stuff like that. As famous as he was, Halliday’s death should have warranted only a brief segment on the evening news, so the unwashed masses could shake their heads in envy when the newscasters announced the obscenely large amount of money that would be doled out to the rich man’s heirs.

But that was the rub. James Halliday had no heirs.

RPO wastes no time in explaining the setting. We'll get more details later, but Chapter 0000 (that's really how it's written in the book) just sort of dumps the basic plot with about 2 paragraphs of text.

Halliday was an eccentric, possibly insane 67-year-old man when he died in 2039. He's described as a combination of Howard Hughes, Richard Garriott, and Willy Wonka, creating possibly the most insufferable manchild of a businessman that Cline could think was cool. He was a bachelor with no friends, no family, and no children.

Instead, his will appeared in the form of a 5-minute video titled Anorak's Invitation (Anorak was Halliday's avatar in OASIS) that was simultaneously emailed to all OASIS users upon his death. The video was heavily analyzed frame by frame for any sort of meaning, so of course we get a detailed description of the entire video.

quote:

Anorak’s Invitation begins with the sound of trumpets, the opening of an old song called “Dead Man’s Party.”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iypUpv9xelg

I hate to tell you Ernest, but that ain't a loving trumpet.

The black screen transforms into a party where Halliday (appearing as he did in his 40s on the cover of Time, wearing an old Space Invaders shirt and faded jeans) is dancing with a bunch of teenagers in 80s dress. He's not dancing with anyone, just wildly swinging his arms around alone. One might say he's....dancing with himself.

Get it?

GET IT?

quote:

When the lyrics kick in, Halliday begins to lip-synch along, still gyrating: “All dressed up with nowhere to go. Walking with a dead man over my shoulder. Don’t run away, it’s only me.…”

He abruptly stops dancing and makes a cutting motion with his right hand, silencing the music. At the same moment, the dancers and the gymnasium behind him vanish, and the scene around him suddenly changes.

Halliday now stands at the front of a funeral parlor, next to an open casket. A second, much older Halliday lies inside the casket, his body emaciated and ravaged by cancer. Shiny quarters cover each of his eyelids.

The younger Halliday gazes down at the corpse of his older self with mock sadness, then turns to address the assembled mourners. Halliday snaps his fingers and a scroll appears in his right hand. He opens it with a flourish and it unfurls to the floor, unraveling down the aisle in front of him. He breaks the fourth wall, addressing the viewer, and begins to read.

I removed them from the copied text, but there's multiple annotation links in here. Possibly to give the illusion of being an in-universe document, there are footnotes describing some details not included in the text. Such as how all the teenagers at his party were extras from John Hughes teen films digitally inserted into the clip, or that the funeral is actually Heather Chandler's funeral from Heathers and thus all the mourners are the film characters. The quarters over his eyes were even minted in 1984, which seems a little too obsessive.

quote:

“I, James Donovan Halliday, being of sound mind and disposing memory, do hereby make, publish, and declare this instrument to be my last will and testament, hereby revoking any and all wills and codicils by me at any time heretofore made.…” He continues reading, faster and faster, plowing through several more paragraphs of legalese, until he’s speaking so rapidly that the words are unintelligible. Then he stops abruptly. “Forget it,” he says. “Even at that speed, it would take me a month to read the whole thing. Sad to say, I don’t have that kind of time.” He drops the scroll and it vanishes in a shower of gold dust. “Let me just give you the highlights.”

The funeral parlor vanishes, and the scene changes once again. Halliday now stands in front of an immense bank vault door. “My entire estate, including a controlling share of stock in my company, Gregarious Simulation Systems, is to be placed in escrow until such time as a single condition I have set forth in my will is met. The first individual to meet that condition will inherit my entire fortune, currently valued in excess of two hundred and forty billion dollars.”

So, that's who the entire estate goes to: literally whoever manages to figure out his bullshit. Kim Jong-un recruits a team to solve it for him and grant the entire fortune and controlling stock in OASIS to North Korea? Halliday don't give a poo poo. He wants people to play his game.

quote:

Halliday snaps his fingers again and the vault disappears. In the same instant, Halliday shrinks and morphs into a small boy wearing brown corduroys and a faded The Muppet Show T-shirt. The young Halliday stands in a cluttered living room with burnt orange carpeting, wood-paneled walls, and kitschy late-’70s decor. A 21-inch Zenith television sits nearby, with an Atari 2600 game console hooked up to it.

“This was the first videogame system I ever owned,” Halliday says, now in a child’s voice. “An Atari 2600. I got it for Christmas in 1979.” He plops down in front of the Atari, picks up a joystick, and begins to play. “My favorite game was this one,” he says, nodding at the TV screen, where a small square is traveling through a series of simple mazes. “It was called Adventure. Like many early videogames, Adventure was designed and programmed by just one person. But back then, Atari refused to give its programmers credit for their work, so the name of a game’s creator didn’t actually appear anywhere on the packaging.” On the TV screen, we see Halliday use a sword to slay a red dragon, although due to the game’s crude low-resolution graphics, this looks more like a square using an arrow to stab a deformed duck.

Guys I'm making a 1970s period horror film and I don't have this many references to the 70s in it.

quote:

“So the guy who created Adventure, a man named Warren Robinett, decided to hide his name inside the game itself. He hid a key in one of the game’s labyrinths. If you found this key, a small pixel-sized gray dot, you could use it to enter a secret room where Robinett had hidden his name.” On the TV, Halliday guides his square protagonist into the game’s secret room, where the words CREATED BY WARREN ROBINETT appear in the center of the screen.

“This,” Halliday says, pointing to the screen with genuine reverence, “was the very first videogame Easter egg. Robinett hid it in his game’s code without telling a soul, and Atari manufactured and shipped Adventure all over the world without knowing about the secret room. They didn’t find out about the Easter egg’s existence until a few months later, when kids all over the world began to discover it. I was one of those kids, and finding Robinett’s Easter egg for the first time was one of the coolest videogaming experiences of my life.”

I'm getting really annoyed by "videogame" as one word. If you want to see this Easter egg for yourself, here you go:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YS-HYWRdb2g

The living room fades out. Now Halliday is in his avatar as Anorak (a taller, slightly handsomer wizard version of himself) standing in a dim cavern. Here he reveals the truth: he's hidden an Easter egg in OASIS. Whoever can find it gets the whole fortune. He shows three keys: copper, jade, and clear crystal. As he recites the first clue, flaming subtitles appear at the bottom of the screen.

quote:

Three hidden keys open three secret gates
Wherein the errant will be tested for worthy traits
And those with the skill to survive these straits
Will reach The End where the prize awaits

The jade and crystal keys vanish, leaving the copper one hanging around Halliday's neck.

quote:

The camera follows Anorak as he turns and continues farther into the dark cavern. A few seconds later, he arrives at a pair of massive wooden doors set into the cavern’s rocky wall. These doors are banded with steel, and there are shields and dragons carved into their surfaces. “I couldn’t playtest this particular game, so I worry that I may have hidden my Easter egg a little too well. Made it too difficult to reach. I’m not sure. If that’s the case, it’s too late to change anything now. So I guess we’ll see.”

Oh great. He didn't even playtest his loving will and it might be impossible for anyone to ever get to.

quote:

Anorak throws open the double doors, revealing an immense treasure room filled with piles of glittering gold coins and jewel-encrusted goblets. Then he steps into the open doorway and turns to face the viewer, stretching out his arms to hold open the giant double doors.

“So without further ado,” Anorak announces, “let the hunt for Halliday’s Easter egg begin!” Then he vanishes in a flash of light, leaving the viewer to gaze through the open doorway at the glittering mounds of treasure that lay beyond.

Then the screen fades to black.

So first, one more annotation mentions that the pile of treasure behind him also includes stuff like old 80s video game systems and cartridges and hundreds of dice. Second, Halliday intentionally staged the end of the video to look identical to the 1983 Dungeon Master's Guide cover.



What a loving nerd.

The end of the video has a link to Halliday's personal website. While it used to have nothing but a looping animation of Anorak making potions and looking over spell books in his lab, the site now includes a huge scoreboard that quickly became known by the dramatic nickname....the Scoreboard. In its default format, all 10 spots are taken up by the initials "JDH" with a score of 000000.

quote:

Just below the Scoreboard was an icon that looked like a small leather-bound book, which linked to a free downloadable copy of Anorak’s Almanac, a collection of hundreds of Halliday’s undated journal entries. The Almanac was over a thousand pages long, but it contained few details about Halliday’s personal life or his day-to-day activities. Most of the entries were his stream-of-consciousness observations on various classic videogames, science-fiction and fantasy novels, movies, comic books, and ’80s pop culture, mixed with humorous diatribes denouncing everything from organized religion to diet soda.

If your goal was to make me think Halliday is quirky and cool, you're failing miserably. If anything, it sounds like he didn't have anything in his life except 80s pop culture and based his entire personality at it.

*stares intently at the reader*

The Hunt, as it became known, led to a huge resurgence in 1980s culture. The 2040s are now a near carbon copy of the 80s from hairstyles to music, as everyone young and old began obsessing over finding the Easter egg and earning a $240 billion fortune. Millions of OASIS users became "egg hunters", or "gunters" because this is a sci-fi book and we need at least one really dumb slang term to be sufficiently cyberpunk. But as the years went on, the number of gunters (I keep reading it as "grunters" and that's never going to stop) started to die down. The Hunt became an urban legend, one last practical joke by a crazy old rich dude.

quote:

Then, on the evening of February 11, 2045, an avatar’s name appeared at the top of the Scoreboard, for the whole world to see. After five long years, the Copper Key had finally been found, by an eighteen-year-old kid living in a trailer park on the outskirts of Oklahoma City.

That kid was me.

Dozens of books, cartoons, movies, and miniseries have attempted to tell the story of everything that happened next, but every single one of them got it wrong. So I want to set the record straight, once and for all.

The only thing that's about to get set straight is my opinions on this book, believe me.

chitoryu12
Apr 24, 2014

I just found this in another thread and wish I included it in the OP.

chitoryu12
Apr 24, 2014

JacquelineDempsey posted:

I blame his selfless valor in experiments with torpedo juice

I may or may not have gotten drunk tonight on 95% Everclear mixed with Dr Pepper.

chitoryu12
Apr 24, 2014

https://twitter.com/mrfeelswildride/status/973288876570587137

chitoryu12
Apr 24, 2014

The first proper part of the book, "Level One", begins with a quote from Anorak's Almanac.

quote:

Being human totally sucks most of the time. Videogames are the only thing that make life bearable.
—Anorak’s Almanac, Chapter 91, Verses 1–2

In case you thought Halliday would ever get more likable, you're out of luck.

quote:

I was jolted awake by the sound of gunfire in one of the neighboring stacks. The shots were followed by a few minutes of muffled shouting and screaming, then silence.

Gunfire wasn’t uncommon in the stacks, but it still shook me up. I knew I probably wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep, so I decided to kill the remaining hours until dawn by brushing up on a few coin-op classics. Galaga, Defender, Asteroids. These games were outdated digital dinosaurs that had become museum pieces long before I was born. But I was a gunter, so I didn’t think of them as quaint low-res antiques. To me, they were hallowed artifacts. Pillars of the pantheon. When I played the classics, I did so with a determined sort of reverence.

I was curled up in an old sleeping bag in the corner of the trailer’s tiny laundry room, wedged into the gap between the wall and the dryer. I wasn’t welcome in my aunt’s room across the hall, which was fine by me. I preferred to crash in the laundry room anyway. It was warm, it afforded me a limited amount of privacy, and the wireless reception wasn’t too bad. And, as an added bonus, the room smelled like liquid detergent and fabric softener. The rest of the trailer reeked of cat piss and abject poverty.

Here's the first glimpse we get of our hero, Wade Watts. Within seconds of meeting him, we discover just how much of his personality is based around the obsessive Hunt and rote consumption of all media related to it.

We learn more about the stacks later, but I'll cover it here. As you can see on the movie poster (which is the cover of new editions of the book), the economic problems the United States is facing about 20 years from now basically killed any ability to live in rural areas. Everyone just packed up and moved to the nearest city, and to deal with the sudden overcrowding they just combined all their trailers, RVs, mobile homes, shipping containers, and cars into towering shantytowns that occasionally topple over. Somehow this made more sense than expanding outward and all occurred over an incredibly short timeframe.

Wade's home in the Portland Avenue Stacks of Oklahoma City is a former double-wide trailer with 15 people living in it, including two other families renting bedrooms.

quote:

I pulled out my laptop and powered it on. It was a bulky, heavy beast, almost ten years old. I’d found it in a trash bin behind the abandoned strip mall across the highway. I’d been able to coax it back to life by replacing its system memory and reloading the stone-age operating system. The processor was slower than a sloth by current standards, but it was fine for my needs. The laptop served as my portable research library, video arcade, and home theater system. Its hard drive was filled with old books, movies, TV show episodes, song files, and nearly every videogame made in the twentieth century.

I booted up my emulator and selected Robotron: 2084, one of my all-time favorite games. I’d always loved its frenetic pace and brutal simplicity. Robotron was all about instinct and reflexes. Playing old videogames never failed to clear my mind and set me at ease. If I was feeling depressed or frustrated about my lot in life, all I had to do was tap the Player One button, and my worries would instantly slip away as my mind focused itself on the relentless pixelated onslaught on the screen in front of me. There, inside the game’s two-dimensional universe, life was simple: It’s just you against the machine. Move with your left hand, shoot with your right, and try to stay alive as long as possible.

I spent a few hours blasting through wave after wave of Brains, Spheroids, Quarks, and Hulks in my unending battle to Save the Last Human Family! But eventually my fingers started to cramp up and I began to lose my rhythm. When that happened at this level, things deteriorated quickly. I burned through all of my extra lives in a matter of minutes, and my two least-favorite words appeared on the screen: GAME OVER.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T9kXKzYorFo

I live in the Orlando area, and until September you could find DisneyQuest at what's now called Disney Springs. It was a big 5-story arcade with free games once you paid admission, including a whole room full of 80s arcade games. When I was a kid I played Robotron quite a few times there, though I could never get past 5 or 6 waves. It's definitely one of the loudest and most annoying arcade games of the time, and I feel bad for anyone who hears him playing it for hours.

Once he's done, Wade browses through his video files; he's downloaded every single piece of media mentioned in the Almanac. He picks an episode of Family Ties, though he's already watched all 180 episodes multiple times. He says it would take decades for him to watch and play everything mentioned in the Almanac, but that seems to be more because he does poo poo like watch all 180 episodes of Family Ties repeatedly.

We learn a bit more about Wade's family. His parents had him when they were teenagers and his father was shot in a grocery store robbery when he was a few months old. His mother, Loretta, raised him alone while working as an OASIS telemarketer by day and an OASIS brothel prostitute by night. Since earplugs didn't really help Wade not hear his mom dirty talking to clients every night, he watched movies with the volume turned up to drown it out. Eventually she gave Wade an OASIS visor and gloves as a toddler and used the virtual world as a babysitter, leaving him to be raised in a virtual Sesame Street and playing learning games. Since OASIS also acts as the world's biggest public library, he began spending all of his time consuming media in it.

So what we get here is sort of a Freudian excuse for Wade's lack of personality: he was raised on a steady diet of pop culture practically from birth at the expense of having actual parents. He's more like a golem created from DVDs and binary code.

quote:

I don’t know, maybe your experience differed from mine. For me, growing up as a human being on the planet Earth in the twenty-first century was a real kick in the teeth. Existentially speaking.

The worst thing about being a kid was that no one told me the truth about my situation. In fact, they did the exact opposite. And, of course, I believed them, because I was just a kid and I didn’t know any better. I mean, Christ, my brain hadn’t even grown to full size yet, so how could I be expected to know when the adults were bullshitting me?

So I swallowed all of the dark ages nonsense they fed me. Some time passed. I grew up a little, and I gradually began to figure out that pretty much everyone had been lying to me about pretty much everything since the moment I emerged from my mother’s womb.

This was an alarming revelation.

It gave me trust issues later in life.

I started to figure out the ugly truth as soon as I began to explore the free OASIS libraries. The facts were right there waiting for me, hidden in old books written by people who weren’t afraid to be honest. Artists and scientists and philosophers and poets, many of them long dead. As I read the words they’d left behind, I finally began to get a grip on the situation. My situation. Our situation. What most people referred to as “the human condition.”

It was not good news.

Wade says that he wishes someone told him the truth right up front, and we get a long quasi-monologue describing what he wants someone to have told him. It's really not interesting enough to copy and paste, because it's basically a long form "God doesn't exist, the economy sucks, there's an oil crisis, global warming is terrible, and we're all going to die and experience eternal oblivion because the afterlife is a fairy tale so you may as well just play video games forever to dull the pain." It's edgy teenager philosophy for three pages.

quote:

The OASIS is the setting of all my happiest childhood memories. When my mom didn’t have to work, we would log in at the same time and play games or go on interactive storybook adventures together. She used to have to force me to log out every night, because I never wanted to return to the real world. Because the real world sucked.

I never blamed my mom for the way things were. She was a victim of fate and cruel circumstance, like everyone else. Her generation had it the hardest. She’d been born into a world of plenty, then had to watch it all slowly vanish. More than anything, I remember feeling sorry for her. She was depressed all the time, and taking drugs seemed to be the only thing she truly enjoyed. Of course, they were what eventually killed her. When I was eleven years old, she shot a bad batch of something into her arm and died on our ratty fold-out sofa bed while listening to music on an old mp3 player I’d repaired and given to her the previous Christmas.

That was when I had to move in with my mom’s sister, Alice. Aunt Alice didn’t take me in out of kindness or familial responsibility. She did it to get the extra food vouchers from the government every month. Most of the time, I had to find food on my own. This usually wasn’t a problem, because I had a talent for finding and fixing old computers and busted OASIS consoles, which I sold to pawnshops or traded for food vouchers. I earned enough to keep from going hungry, which was more than a lot of my neighbors could say.

The year after my mom died, I spent a lot of time wallowing in self-pity and despair. I tried to look on the bright side, to remind myself that, orphaned or not, I was still better off than most of the kids in Africa. And Asia. And North America, too. I’d always had a roof over my head and more than enough food to eat. And I had the OASIS. My life wasn’t so bad. At least that’s what I kept telling myself, in a vain attempt to stave off the epic loneliness I now felt.

Then the Hunt for Halliday’s Easter egg began. That was what saved me, I think. Suddenly I’d found something worth doing. A dream worth chasing. For the last five years, the Hunt had given me a goal and purpose. A quest to fulfill. A reason to get up in the morning. Something to look forward to.

The moment I began searching for the egg, the future no longer seemed so bleak.

You can tell how important Wade's mom is to his life because she gets like two sentences dedicated to her death. We get a quick mention of Wade having wallowed in despair after she died, but it feels kind of meaningless because we never see any of this despair. By the time the book takes place, he's already moved on to an obsession over gaining Halliday's fortune. The only way we can find out that he felt sad is because he told us that he felt sad once.

Halfway through the fourth episode of Family Ties, Aunt Alice comes in. As soon as she sees Wade's laptop, she demands that he hand it over to pawn for food vouchers. He protests that he needs it for school (which he doesn't) and that he already gives up all of his food vouchers for rent, so she brings over her shirtless thug of a tattooed boyfriend Rick to threaten Wade for it. He doesn't even say a word, just raises his fist, and Wade hands the laptop over. He's already locked the keyboard and erased the hard drive before Rick got in and he's got two spares hidden in the trailer, but now he needs to restore it from his backups.

Since dawn is approaching, Wade decides to leave for school early. He pulls on his only winter clothes and exits the trailer, which is the top unit in a 22-story stack alongside I-40. The stacks are covered in solar panels and water and sewage tubing to deal with the basics of life.

quote:

Our trailer was near the northern edge of the stacks, which ran up to a crumbling highway overpass. From my vantage point at the laundry room window, I could see a thin stream of electric vehicles crawling along the cracked asphalt, carrying goods and workers into the city. As I stared out at the grim skyline, a bright sliver of the sun peeked over the horizon. Watching it rise, I performed a mental ritual: Whenever I saw the sun, I reminded myself that I was looking at a star. One of over a hundred billion stars in our galaxy. A galaxy that was just one of billions of other galaxies in the observable universe. This helped me keep things in perspective. I’d started doing it after watching a science program from the early ’80s called Cosmos.

You really are lucky to get through even one page without an 80s reference.

quote:

I slipped out the window as quietly as possible and, clutching the bottom of the window frame, slid down the cold surface of the trailer’s metal siding. The steel platform on which the trailer rested was only slightly wider and longer than the trailer itself, leaving a ledge about a foot and a half wide all the way around. I carefully lowered myself until my feet rested on this ledge, then reached up to close the window behind me. I grabbed hold of a rope I’d strung there at waist level to serve as a handhold and began to sidestep along the ledge to the corner of the platform. From there I was able to descend the ladderlike frame of the scaffolding. I almost always took this route when leaving or returning to my aunt’s trailer. A rickety metal staircase was bolted to the side of the stack, but it shook and knocked against the scaffolding, so I couldn’t use it without announcing my presence. Bad news. In the stacks, it was best to avoid being heard or seen, whenever possible. There were often dangerous and desperate people about—the sort who would rob you, rape you, and then sell your organs on the black market.

Descending the network of metal girders had always reminded me of old platform videogames like Donkey Kong or BurgerTime. I’d seized upon this idea a few years earlier when I coded my first Atari 2600 game (a gunter rite of passage, like a Jedi building his first lightsaber). It was a Pitfall rip-off called The Stacks where you had to navigate through a vertical maze of trailers, collecting junk computers, snagging food-voucher power-ups, and avoiding meth addicts and pedophiles on your way to school. My game was a lot more fun than the real thing.

Wade pauses at the unit three stories below, an Airstream trailer, to say hi to Mrs. Gilmore. She's a woman in her 70s who spends most of her time in an OASIS megachurch congregation. Wade uses his technical expertise to fix her console when it breaks in exchange for anecdotes about life in the 80s.

quote:

She was always praying for me too. Trying her hardest to save my soul. I never had the heart to tell her that I thought organized religion was a total crock. It was a pleasant fantasy that gave her hope and kept her going—which was exactly what the Hunt was for me. To quote the Almanac: “People who live in glass houses should shut the gently caress up.”

Wade I think you might be an rear end in a top hat.

Reaching the "floor" (the sunless ground level of the stacks), Wade weaves through an obstacle course of junk filling the spaces between stacks. His destination is a haphazard junkyard where all the abandoned vehicles used to reach Oklahoma City were thrown after their construction. Specifically, he's heading to his hideout in a van that's 2/3 buried under other cars and just open enough for him to squeeze through the rear doors. Wade turned this van into his 4x4x9 foot hideout after he found it still with the keys.

quote:

The van was my refuge. My Batcave. My Fortress of Solitude. It was where I attended school, did my homework, read books, watched movies, and played videogames. It was also where I conducted my ongoing quest to find Halliday’s Easter egg.

If you turned identifying references into a drinking game with non-alcoholic beer, you would still die of alcohol poisoning.

Wade hops onto an exercise bike and pedals to charge the batteries; because he has nothing else in his life, this and climbing down the stacks are his only daily exercise.

quote:

I opened the rat-proof metal box where I kept my food cache and took out some bottled water and a packet of powdered milk. I mixed these together in a bowl, then dumped in a generous serving of Fruit Rocks cereal. Once I’d wolfed it down, I retrieved an old plastic Star Trek lunch box I kept hidden under the van’s crushed dashboard. Inside were my school-issued OASIS console, haptic gloves, and visor. These items were, by far, the most valuable things I owned. Far too valuable to carry around with me.

I pulled on my elastic haptic gloves and flexed my fingers to make sure none of the joints was sticking. Then I grabbed my OASIS console, a flat black rectangle about the size of a paperback book. It had a wireless network antenna built into it, but the reception inside the van was for poo poo, since it was buried under a huge mound of dense metal. So I’d rigged up an external antenna and mounted it on the hood of a car at the top of the junk pile. The antenna cable snaked up through a hole I’d punched in the van’s ceiling. I plugged it into a port on the side of the console, then slipped on my visor. It fit snugly around my eyes like a pair of swimmer’s goggles, blocking out all external light. Small earbuds extended from the visor’s temples and automatically plugged themselves into my ears. The visor also housed two built-in stereo voice microphones to pick up everything I said.

I powered on the console and initiated the log-in sequence. I saw a brief flash of red as the visor scanned my retinas. Then I cleared my throat and said my log-in pass phrase, being careful to enunciate: “You have been recruited by the Star League to defend the Frontier against Xur and the Ko-Dan Armada.”

My pass phrase was also verified, along with my voice pattern, and then I was logged in. The following text appeared, superimposed in the center of my virtual display:

Identity verification successful.
Welcome to the OASIS, Parzival!
Login Completed: 07:53:21 OST-2.10.2045

As the text faded away, it was replaced by a short message, just three words long. This message had been embedded in the log-in sequence by James Halliday himself, when he’d first programmed the OASIS, as an homage to the simulation’s direct ancestors, the coin-operated videogames of his youth. These three words were always the last thing an OASIS user saw before leaving the real world and entering the virtual one:

READY PLAYER ONE

chitoryu12
Apr 24, 2014

Mel Mudkiper posted:

hey guys

fyi google "nerd porn auteur"

njoi

I helpfully included a link in the OP! But just in case you've been trying to avoid reading it:

chitoryu12
Apr 24, 2014

JacquelineDempsey posted:

So, 15 people in a double wide that's 22 stories up, and there's a laundry room. Uh-huh.

I did the math to see what year Halliday wouldve been born, to compare with my own age. 1971 or 72 (so pretty close to my 1974). Then I looked up Cline, and whaddya know, of course he was born in 1972. March 29th, actually.

March 29th. The day the movie comes out. He is literally game master anthony, celebrating his birthday with all of his favorite tv, comics, video games references. BRING IT IN, GUYS!!!

Chi, pass the torpedo juice.

I think Cline straight up said that he put Halliday's age as almost identical to his own so they could share interests.

chitoryu12
Apr 24, 2014

Trust me, it gets even stupider when OASIS boots up.

JacquelineDempsey posted:

I just find this interesting because of that review claiming that this book is this generation's Neuromancer. Here we got a book written by a guy 2 years older than me --- and I'm an old fart by Internet standards --- that does nothing but fan wank about 80s poo poo. Stuff that happened well before "this" generation, if that reviewer is talking millennial so or whatever.

Long story short: I'm his prime age bracket demographic, and this poo poo is abysmal.

I showed the infamous excerpt to my mom (who was born in 1964) and she was aghast. She said that after living the 80s she didn't want to experience this much of it all at once.

chitoryu12
Apr 24, 2014

All right, normally I update a chapter a day but I want to get to the meat of this book: OASIS.

quote:

My avatar materialized in front of my locker on the second floor of my high school—the exact spot where I’d been standing when I’d logged out the night before.

I glanced up and down the hallway. My virtual surroundings looked almost (but not quite) real. Everything inside the OASIS was beautifully rendered in three dimensions. Unless you pulled focus and stopped to examine your surroundings more closely, it was easy to forget that everything you were seeing was computer-generated. And that was with my crappy school-issued OASIS console. I’d heard that if you accessed the simulation with a new state-of-the-art immersion rig, it was almost impossible to tell the OASIS from reality.

I touched my locker door and it popped open with a soft metallic click. The inside was sparsely decorated. A picture of Princess Leia posing with a blaster pistol. A group photo of the members of Monty Python in their Holy Grail costumes. James Halliday’s Time magazine cover. I reached up and tapped the stack of textbooks on the locker’s top shelf and they vanished, then reappeared in my avatar’s item inventory.

Aside from my textbooks, my avatar had only a few meager possessions: a flashlight, an iron shortsword, a small bronze shield, and a suit of banded leather armor. These items were all nonmagical and of low quality, but they were the best I could afford. Items in the OASIS had just as much value as things in the real world (sometimes more), and you couldn’t pay for them with food vouchers. The OASIS credit was the coin of the realm, and in these dark times, it was also one of the world’s most stable currencies, valued higher than the dollar, pound, euro, or yen.

So yeah, OASIS is such a big thing that its digital currency is the most valuable in the world. Despite the economy tanking? Also I'm unsure just how much of OASIS is supposed to seem like a video game with great graphics and how much it's supposed to feel like a holodeck, because Cline seemingly writes both.

quote:

A small mirror was mounted inside my locker door, and I caught a glimpse of my virtual self as I closed it. I’d designed my avatar’s face and body to look, more or less, like my own. My avatar had a slightly smaller nose than me, and he was taller. And thinner. And more muscular. And he didn’t have any teenage acne. But aside from these minor details, we looked more or less identical. The school’s strictly enforced dress code required that all student avatars be human, and of the same gender and age as the student. No giant two-headed hermaphrodite demon unicorn avatars were allowed. Not on school grounds, anyway.

You could give your OASIS avatar any name you liked, as long as it was unique. Meaning you had to pick a name that hadn’t already been taken by someone else. Your avatar’s name was also your e-mail address and chat ID, so you wanted it to be cool and easy to remember. Celebrities had been known to pay huge sums of money to buy an avatar name they wanted from a cyber-squatter who had already reserved it.

The movie makes Wade's avatar, Parzival, look like a knock-off Raiden from Metal Gear Solid. This DeviantArt drawing probably looks more like the real thing:



Wade says he started out with the username Wade_The_Great, then after a few changes settled on a reference to Percival from King Arthur's round table. He had to choose the weird spelling because all the others were taken. While OASIS has data on all users' real identification (even their fingerprints and retinal patterns), a Supreme Court ruling allowed it to remain private and the real identity of users is locked up tight by Gregarious Simulation Systems. Wade's school has his info, but only accessible by the principal so not even his teachers or classmates know who he is.

quote:

Students weren’t allowed to use their avatar names while they were at school. This was to prevent teachers from having to say ridiculous things like “Pimp_Grease, please pay attention!” or “BigWang69, would you stand up and give us your book report?” Instead, students were required to use their real first names, followed by a number, to differentiate them from other students with the same name. When I enrolled, there were already two other students at my school with the first name Wade, so I’d been assigned the student ID of Wade3. That name floated above my avatar’s head whenever I was on school grounds.

This book would have been much better with BigWang69 as the protagonist.

The school bell rings and brings up a HUD notification that Wade has 40 minutes to get to class. He uses subtle hand motions to move, but can also use voice commands if his hands are occupied and I can't help but feel like that's the worst maneuvering system for a VR game. I don't know if it would be worse writing to ignore that and make OASIS basically a holodeck for the reader or to follow it exactly and have everyone's dialogue occasionally interrupted by shouted directional commands.

College is done in OASIS as well, but it still requires money and Wade has neither the money nor the scholarship to get in. Since he doesn't want to sign a 5-year indenturement contract with a corporation (this is supposed to be cyberpunk in case you forgot, and you will), his only prospect in life is to be a full time gunter.

Wade is approached by a school bully, Todd13. He makes fun of Wade for wearing one of the default avatar outfits instead of an expensive designer skin.

quote:

“Your mom bought them for me,” I retorted without breaking my stride. “Tell her I said thanks, the next time you stop at home to breast-feed and pick up your allowance.” Childish, I know. But virtual or not, this was still high school—the more childish an insult, the more effective it was.

My jab elicited laughter from a few of his friends and the other students standing nearby. Todd13 scowled and his face actually turned red—a sign that he hadn’t bothered to turn off his account’s real-time emotion feature, which made your avatar mirror your facial expressions and body language. He was about to reply, but I muted him first, so I didn’t hear what he said. I just smiled and continued on my way.

The ability to mute my peers was one of my favorite things about attending school online, and I took advantage of it almost daily. The best thing about it was that they could see that you’d muted them, and they couldn’t do a drat thing about it. There was never any fighting on school grounds. The simulation simply didn’t allow it. The entire planet of Ludus was a no-PvP zone, meaning that no player-versus-player combat was permitted. At this school, the only real weapons were words, so I’d become skilled at wielding them.

Wade mentions a planet here. It's brought up casually earlier in the book, but OASIS consists of thousands of virtual planets. I'm not sure if any size is really established for them, but the processing power for this game probably takes Moore's Law and stomps it into dust.

Wade attended a real school until 6th grade, which didn't go well because his childhood growing up in an MMORPG emotionally stunted him and he has no way of communicating with anyone outside of video games. As you can imagine, he's overweight and poorly dressed in the real world as well because he's a poor OASIS addict on a diet of government-subsidized junk food. In short, Wade is the gooniest loser of a protagonist that could have been written.

quote:

Even so, I tried my best to fit in. Year after year, my eyes would scan the lunchroom like a T-1000, searching for a clique that might accept me. But even the other outcasts wanted nothing to do with me. I was too weird, even for the weirdos. And girls? Talking to girls was out of the question. To me, they were like some exotic alien species, both beautiful and terrifying. Whenever I got near one of them, I invariably broke out in a cold sweat and lost the ability to speak in complete sentences.

Never mind. He's actually a troper protagonist.

quote:

Then, one glorious day, our principal announced that any student with a passing grade-point average could apply for a transfer to the new OASIS public school system. The real public school system, the one run by the government, had been an underfunded, overcrowded train wreck for decades. And now the conditions at many schools had gotten so terrible that every kid with half a brain was being encouraged to stay at home and attend school online. I nearly broke my neck sprinting to the school office to submit my application. It was accepted, and I transferred to OASIS Public School #1873 the following semester.

Prior to my transfer, my OASIS avatar had never left Incipio, the planet at the center of Sector One where new avatars were spawned at the time of their creation. There wasn’t much to do on Incipio except chat with other noobs or shop in one of the giant virtual malls that covered the planet. If you wanted to go somewhere more interesting, you had to pay a teleportation fare to get there, and that cost money, something I didn’t have. So my avatar was stranded on Incipio. That is, until my new school e-mailed me a teleportation voucher to cover the cost of my avatar’s transport to Ludus, the planet where all of the OASIS public schools were located.

There were hundreds of school campuses here on Ludus, spread out evenly across the planet’s surface. The schools were all identical, because the same construction code was copied and pasted into a different location whenever a new school was needed. And since the buildings were just pieces of software, their design wasn’t limited by monetary constraints, or even by the laws of physics. So every school was a grand palace of learning, with polished marble hallways, cathedral-like classrooms, zero-g gymnasiums, and virtual libraries containing every (school board–approved) book ever written.

So I want to break off for a little bit to talk about escapist school fantasy. This is a really common subgenre of young adult fiction that permeates sci-fi and fantasy: the protagonist is whisked away to a fantastical environment where everything is cool and awesome, they get to learn awesome stuff, and they can take advantage of the special powers they have (and maybe an old prophecy or destiny) to become famous and powerful. Everyone's read or watched works like this, like Harry Potter, Sky High, The Magicians, Psychonauts, or countless anime and visual novels.

Where RPO breaks from this trope is that the protagonist only has anything special about him in this environment. In Harry Potter, for instance, Harry has to go back to the Dursleys every summer and not do any magic, but at least he has magic and it's just a matter of time before he can be free of their bondage and go about being the powerful Chosen One full time. When he's at Hogwarts, he gets to spend most of the year surrounded by magic and friends and adventure. On the other hand, Wade has to go back to the real world every day. At the end of the day, he has to turn off OASIS and go back to being a poor fat kid with acne living in the slums.

The whole point of escapist fantasy like this is that it allows for people to imagine a way that their life can magically change overnight (sometimes literally). They really have superhuman powers or a special destiny, and they're taken away from a dreary and boring life to a world of adventure where everything revolves around them. Their original life is replaced with a new life, and they never have to go back. How many people do you know on Facebook who have sarcastically listed their job as "Waiting for my Hogwarts acceptance letter"?

Wade has to go back unless he succeeds at finding the Easter egg. And even then, it's going to take work to stop being a fat acne-ridden kid who has no social skills once he takes off his virtual reality headset; it's not like finding the Easter egg and gaining control over a $240 billion fortune is suddenly going to grant him muscles and the ability to talk to girls without being the "Jizz In My Pants" guy. For all he knows, he's now going to really be like Notch: fabulously wealthy but fat, lonely, and unloved except for the digital masses who don't know what he's like in the real world.

quote:

When I arrived in my World History classroom, several students were already seated at their desks. Their avatars all sat motionless, with their eyes closed. This was a signal that they were “engaged,” meaning they were currently on phone calls, browsing the Web, or logged into chat rooms. It was poor OASIS etiquette to try to talk to an engaged avatar. They usually just ignored you, and you’d get an automated message telling you to piss off.

I took a seat at my desk and tapped the Engage icon at the edge of my display. My own avatar’s eyes slid shut, but I could still see my surroundings. I tapped another icon, and a large two-dimensional Web browser window appeared, suspended in space directly in front of me. Windows like this one were visible to only my avatar, so no one could read over my shoulder (unless I selected the option to allow it).

Wade opens up the Hatchery, a gunter forum; in keeping with their cargo cult of the past, the forum is designed to look like a 1980s BBS complete with a screeching modem sound when logging in. Most of the forum is useless bragging and running in circles trying to decipher cryptic Almanac hints, so Wade rarely posts.

The important story info we get is that there are a lot of threads making fun of Sixers, or "Suxorz" because Cline's knowledge of the Internet ended about 20 years ago. These are employees of Innovative Online Industries (IOI), a multinational conglomerate and world's largest ISP, who use their six-digit employee ID numbers as their avatar names. IOI has formed a Department of Oology as professional Easter egg hunters dedicated to using the power of science to find the Easter egg and gain control of GSS, allowing them to monetize OASIS and plaster ads everywhere.

Sixers are the corporate military analogue of this cyberpunk setting. They all sign a contract stipulating that they'll give control of GSS to IOI if they find the egg, in return for real world food and board, benefits, health insurance, and lots of powerful OASIS gear. All Sixer avatars use the same generic male appearance with default facial features and a navy blue uniform, only differentiated by their employee ID stamped on the right breast of their avatar's uniform. Sixers are so hated among gunters that they're often killed on sight and some of the larger clans hold competitions to see who can kill the most.

quote:

Like most gunters, I loathed the Sixers and was disgusted by their very existence. By hiring an army of contract egg hunters, IOI was perverting the entire spirit of the contest. Of course, it could be argued that all the gunters who had joined clans were doing the same thing. There were now hundreds of gunter clans, some with thousands of members, all working together to find the egg. Each clan was bound by an ironclad legal agreement stating that if one clan member won the contest, all members would share the prize. Solos like me didn’t care much for the clans, either, but we still respected them as fellow gunters—unlike the Sixers, whose goal was to hand the OASIS over to an evil multinational conglomerate intent on ruining it.

"It's okay for a private organization to gain control over the entire fortune and OASIS, as long as they're not this evil one!"

quote:

After checking a few other gunter forums, I tapped a bookmark icon for one of my favorite websites, Arty’s Missives, the blog of a female gunter named Art3mis (pronounced “Artemis”). I’d discovered it about three years ago and had been a loyal reader ever since. She posted these great rambling essays about her search for Halliday’s egg, which she called a “maddening MacGuffin hunt.” She wrote with an endearing, intelligent voice, and her entries were filled with self-deprecating humor and witty, sardonic asides. In addition to posting her (often hysterical) interpretations of passages in the Almanac, she also linked to the books, movies, TV shows, and music she was currently studying as part of her Halliday research. I assumed that all of these posts were filled with misdirection and misinformation, but they were still highly entertaining.

It probably goes without saying that I had a massive cyber-crush on Art3mis.

She occasionally posted screenshots of her raven-haired avatar, and I sometimes (always) saved them to a folder on my hard drive. Her avatar had a pretty face, but it wasn’t unnaturally perfect. In the OASIS, you got used to seeing freakishly beautiful faces on everyone. But Art3mis’s features didn’t look as though they’d been selected from a beauty drop-down menu on some avatar creation template. Her face had the distinctive look of a real person’s, as if her true features had been scanned in and mapped onto her avatar. Big hazel eyes, rounded cheekbones, a pointy chin, and a perpetual smirk. I found her unbearably attractive.

Art3mis’s body was also somewhat unusual. In the OASIS, you usually saw one of two body shapes on female avatars: the absurdly thin yet wildly popular supermodel frame, or the top-heavy, wasp-waisted porn starlet physique (which looked even less natural in the OASIS than it did in the real world). But Art3mis’s frame was short and Rubenesque. All curves.

Yeah if you read "Nerd Porn Auteur", you can definitely start seeing Cline's type of woman creeping in here. Also Wade is so stunted that he slobbers over a female avatar of someone who could very well be a 45-year-old basement goon (remember how nobody knows the true identity of anyone in OASIS?) and saves all her avatar headshots. Our hero.

Also notice how Wade specifies that her face is supposed to be so realistic that it looks like her facial features were scanned onto her avatar. The movie takes the opposite approach and goes as Uncanny Valley as humanly possible:



Wade finishes reading Art3mis's latest blog post (an in-depth essay on John Hughes teen movies) when he gets an instant message from his best (and only) friend.

quote:

Aech: Top o’ the morning, amigo.
Parzival: Hola, compadre.
Aech: What are you up to?
Parzival: Just surfing the turf. You?
Aech: Got the Basement online. Come and hang out before school, fool.
Parzival: Sweet! I’ll be there in a sec.

I closed the IM window and checked the time. I still had about half an hour until class started. I grinned and tapped a small door icon at the edge of my display, then selected Aech’s chat room from my list of favorites.

Oh yeah that's the end of the chapter. Just kind of meanders to a close like Cline realized it was running too long and chopped it in half.

chitoryu12 fucked around with this message at 17:06 on Mar 13, 2018

chitoryu12
Apr 24, 2014

Mel Mudkiper posted:

Does he ever explain why a world in which trailers are stacked on top of each other to form unstable towers of rusted death can afford to supply hundreds of thousands of VR headsets to children in public education

Like, he goes to #1873

That means there are roughly 2000 digital schools giving loving VR headsets to hundreds of random kids each

Absolutely nothing makes the slightest lick of sense about the world. The economy is so terrible that cities are overcrowded after everyone abandoned the rural countryside to try and make a living, but millions or billions of people spend their lives in a glorified MMO. Elderly women go to virtual church instead of real ones, Wade's mom had both of her jobs in OASIS, virtual credits are the most stable currency, and any kid with a decent GPA (not high enough to get a scholarship) gets a virtual school with a free hookup. Even the poorest don't starve because they get government-subsidized meals, and in fact they have so much food that they still get overweight despite climbing the stacks every day!

How does anything survive? Who stays outside the OASIS to keep a multinational conglomerate running? How many people are churning out headsets in China for millions of public school students? Who's running the farms for all those breakfast cereals and powdered eggs and milk?

Oh yeah, and Wade mentions that stacks toppling over domino-style is not an uncommon occurrence. But they still think that's the best way to utilize real estate!

chitoryu12
Apr 24, 2014

I read ahead and I’m going to combine the next two chapters because the meeting between Parzival and Aech is so loving annoying. Imagine two rear end in a top hat holier-than-thou nerds ribbing on each other and another dude for the whole thing and you’ve basically got it. It’s almost entirely pointless.

chitoryu12
Apr 24, 2014

So it turns out the book answers my question about the size of the planets soon: life-size.

OASIS is set up like a Rubik's Cube divided into 27 cube-shaped zones, each of which is 10 light hours (or 10.8 billion kilometers) across. This gives the entire OASIS universe a span of 32,400,000,000 kilometers from end to end.

"Sci-fi authors don't know numbers" continues to be true, because it's a virtual universe in the most literal sense. I don't even want to think about how much processing power it must be taking up.

chitoryu12
Apr 24, 2014

Subjunctive posted:

Mostly depends on how much total area is being observed at a given time, and what’s in it. Universe size doesn’t really matter except as bragging rights.

I think a number of players is specified as "millions", and there's thousands of planets (as will be explained, these include full simulated fictional universes like everything seen in Star Trek or all of the gaming space in World of Warcraft and Everquest). World of Warcraft maxed out at 12 million players with a much smaller space and graphics that could hardly be described as lifelike.

chitoryu12
Apr 24, 2014

Oh hey apparently it's billions of players. Simultaneously.

chitoryu12
Apr 24, 2014

PJOmega posted:

It's been awhile since I tore the book apart, so this might be wrong.

I remember that the OASIS company subsidizes the basic rigs at an insanely low cost of five cents or around there. Supposedly, this is all because the founder wanted OASIS to be accessible to everyone.

Nevermind that the entirety of it is apparently microtransaction hell. Except where it isn't. You can't go to other "planets," but you can access any number of bulletin boards and instanced private rooms. You're given enough money "to buy a short sword, wooden shield, and leather armor" but trapped on a welcome planet that has nothing to do on it. You don't unlock other planets, you have to pay for transport every time. Unless you get fuckoff rich and can afford your own ship.

There's PvP, with death resetting your character. Which means the rich will always prey on the poor. And the poor will never be able to accumulate enough power without some insane injection like the Gunter quest.

No I'm not having flashbacks to trying to go through Stranglethorn Vale on a PvP server way back when in Vanilla WoW.

It feels like the plot was supposed to originally rely on one evil kid with the backing of IOI. Since the first key is (spoiler alert) on the public school planet, and that is supposed to be accessible only to students. Of course this is handwaved away in typical Clinian fashion.

Again I may be misremembering things.

No you've actually got it right. This gets covered in the next few updates, but I'm fine explaining it now because it really emphasizes how impossible the scale of this thing is. It'll also help us get back to plot faster because two chapters get dedicated to just establishing OASIS and how it works.

OASIS costs only 25 cents as a lifetime sign-up fee, probably Halliday referencing arcade games only costing a quarter. However, everything in the game costs OASIS credits. Along with real world ways to earn money still working in OASIS (like selling services or getting sponsorships), you can earn credits and XP (which Cline keeps calling "XPs" and annoying the crap out of me) by completing quests and killing NPC enemies. GSS makes money by selling in-game items like avatar skins, vehicles, and teleportation services between planets.

Wade's big problem is that you need to earn XP to increase your abilities like in any other game, but he has to spend most of his OASIS time in school. He's only level 3 because without any money he basically has to hitch rides with Aech and other gunters to low-level zones to scrape his way through the ranks.

OASIS is so immersive because along with haptic feedback gloves, the visor beams the graphics onto your eyes with lasers to make it look like it's actually the real world around you. If it weren't for needing gloves and a visor, it would basically be the holodeck.

chitoryu12
Apr 24, 2014

Solumin posted:

You wouldn't simulate the whole universe in high fidelity, just the parts people are playing in. That saves some computing power. Also, the graphics are probably handled client-side. WoW's graphics are simplified so that older computers can play it, not because it's easier on the servers.

To be clear, we're still looking at a system that requires absurd computing power, not to mention network bandwidth (billions of players!) and data storage (lifelike, life-sized models are not small!). How do you even handle a planet? That's likely terabytes of data, if not more. Also, all these assets have to be created somehow. Are they computer generated? Are the planets created by what is essentially the Minecraft world gen algorithm? Or did someone make an entire universe by hand?

In this apocalyptic world, how is there infrastructure to keep any of this running?

I'm still shaking my head at the interaction with the bully. It's juvenile, but not high school juvenile; it's a nerd fantasy of shutting down the bully. And then he just mutes the guy anyway!

There's some mention of templates being used, but it really is as ridiculous as it sounds: a planet is a planet, without repeating terrain and simulated right down to every single blade of grass. From the way it's all described, the way OASIS looks in the movie (modern lifelike CGI) is actually how it's all supposed to look in the book. It's a wish fulfillment ultimate video game where anything and everything is possible and all your favorite fictional worlds are real.

chitoryu12
Apr 24, 2014

Solumin posted:

Isn't it weird that Oasis is not really immersive then? You can use voice commands to move your character, he grabs his school books by tapping on them... It's not VR with haptic feedback -- which would be really interesting advances that wouldn't be out of place in a sci fi novel. It's more like Second Life.

Reading ahead, it's really inconsistent. Everyone is still just sitting in their rooms (or in Wade's case, a freezing abandoned van with a rickety heater) wearing haptic feedback gloves and a visor. Even if they're touching everything through the gloves and having the images beamed onto their retinas, they should still feel everything in their real environment so Wade would be thrown out of immersion by going underwater or into a desert or snowstorm in the game. And obviously they don't feel anything that's not touching their hands.

But the book seems to treat it like a holodeck in every sense. Cline forgets exactly how everything is being operated and has it feel like a full immersion brain-jack VR with a HUD.

chitoryu12
Apr 24, 2014

Baron Corbyn posted:

If I'm remembering right, the Red Dwarf novelizations have something along these lines with Better than Life. Everyone who played it became addicted and had to be cared for like a baby because they wouldn't leave the game.

Even the Pendragon Adventure series (literally for 13-year-olds) handled it better with their fourth book. One of the Territories was a futuristic one that had fallen into ruin because almost the entire population had decided to live in virtual reality forever, with only a small handful of people staying out to maintain the buildings they were in.

A later book had them to go a Territory that seemed to be an isolated island with primitive technology, and it's revealed that it's actually the future of the previous Territory where they had gone full post-apocalyptic after the virtual reality broke down.

chitoryu12
Apr 24, 2014

quote:

The system verified that I was on the chat room’s access list and allowed me to enter. My view of the classroom shrank from the limits of my peripheral vision to a small thumbnail window in the lower right of my display, allowing me to monitor what was in front of my avatar. The rest of my field of vision was now filled with the interior of Aech’s chat room. My avatar appeared just inside the “entrance,” a door at the top of a carpeted staircase. The door didn’t lead anywhere. It didn’t even open. This was because the Basement and its contents didn’t exist as a part of the OASIS. Chat rooms were stand-alone simulations—temporary virtual spaces that avatars could access from anywhere in OASIS. My avatar wasn’t actually “in” the chat room. It only appeared that way. Wade3/Parzival was still sitting in my World History classroom with his eyes closed. Logging into a chat room was a little like being in two places at once.

The Basement is done up to look like a 1980s rec room: wood-paneled walls covered in vintage movie and comic book posters, an old RCA television with a Betamax VCR, Laserdisc player, and vintage video game consoles hooked up, 80s arcade games, bookshelves lined with back issues of pop culture magazines and RPG supplements, and a stereo currently playing "The Wild Boys".

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M43wsiNBwmo

Wade's friend Aech (pronounced like the letter H) is a high level gunter who's made a lot of virtual money in PvP tournaments, and is even more famous than Art3mis because Wade just gets to hang out with celebrities like that. Normally the Basement is only available to fellow elites, but Aech and Wade share similar obsessions over Anorak's Almanac and everything in it so Wade is allowed in despite being 27 levels lower than Aech. Because Wade's not in school, the avatars here run the gamut from vampires and dark elves to cyborgs and Vulcans.

Aech's avatar is a tall, handsome white guy with brown hair. As before, the movie has gone...a little different.



This is actually kind of a lovely thing on Spielberg's part. I won't spoil it, but you may already be able to guess why changing Aech's avatar from a normal handsome white guy to an orc might come off as a bad move.

quote:

As I walked over, he glanced up from the Intellivision game he was playing. His distinctive Cheshire grin stretched from ear to ear. “Z!” he shouted. “What is up, amigo?” He stretched out his right hand and gave me five as I dropped onto the couch opposite him. Aech had started calling me “Z” shortly after I met him. He liked to give people single-letter nicknames. Aech pronounced his own avatar’s name just like the letter “H.”

“What up, Humperdinck?” I said. This was a game we played. I always called him by some random H name, like Harry, Hubert, Henry, or Hogan. I was making guesses at his real first name, which, he’d once confided to me, began with the letter “H.”

I'm going to be leaving out more dialogue than usual in this chapter because I cannot loving stand it. Aech and Wade have a friendly rivalry where they're always trying to one-up each other on trivia, which means this chapter alone would be lethal for any kind of 80s shout-out drinking game you wanted to play. It's like watching two clones of the Comic Book Guy ribbing each other. I'll include samples, and please note that the whole loving chapter reads like this.

quote:

“So what did you do after you bailed last night?” he asked, tossing me the other Intellivision controller. We’d hung out here in his chat room for a few hours the previous evening, watching old Japanese monster movies.

“Nada,” I said. “Went home and brushed up on a few classic coin-ops.”

“Unnecessary.”

“Yeah. But I was in the mood.” I didn’t ask him what he’d done the night before, and he didn’t volunteer any details. I knew he’d probably gone to Gygax, or somewhere equally awesome, to speedrun through a few quests and rack up some XPs. He just didn’t want to rub it in. Aech could afford to spend a fair amount of time off-world, following up leads and searching for the Copper Key. But he never lorded this over me, or ridiculed me for not having enough dough to teleport anywhere. And he never insulted me by offering to loan me a few credits. It was an unspoken rule among gunters: If you were a solo, you didn’t want or need help, from anyone. Gunters who wanted help joined a clan, and Aech and I both agreed that clans were for suck-asses and poseurs. We’d both vowed to remain solos for life. We still occasionally had discussions about the egg, but these conversations were always guarded, and we were careful to avoid talking about specifics.

After I beat Aech at three rounds of Tron: Deadly Discs, he threw down his Intellivision controller in disgust and grabbed a magazine off the floor. It was an old issue of Starlog. I recognized Rutger Hauer on the cover, in a Ladyhawke promotional photo.



quote:

Starlog, eh?” I said, nodding my approval.

“Yep. Downloaded every single issue from the Hatchery’s archive. Still working my way through ’em. I was just reading this great piece on Ewoks: The Battle for Endor.

“Made for TV. Released in 1985,” I recited. Star Wars trivia was one of my specialties. “Total garbage. A real low point in the history of the Wars.”

“Says you, assface. It has some great moments.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “It doesn’t. It’s even worse than that first Ewok flick, Caravan of Courage. They shoulda called it Caravan of Suck.”

Aech rolled his eyes and went back to reading. He wasn’t going to take the bait. I eyed the magazine’s cover. “Hey, can I have a look at that when you’re done?” He grinned.

“Why? So you can read the article on Ladyhawke?”

“Maybe.”

“Man, you just love that crapburger, don’t you?”

“Blow me, Aech.”

“How many times have you seen that sapfest? I know you’ve made me sit through it at least twice.” He was baiting me now. He knew Ladyhawke was one of my guilty pleasures, and that I’d seen it over two dozen times.

“I was doing you a favor by making you watch it, noob,” I said. I shoved a new cartridge into the Intellivision console and started up a single-player game of Astrosmash. “You’ll thank me one day. Wait and see. Ladyhawke is canon.”

“Canon” was the term we used to classify any movie, book, game, song, or TV show of which Halliday was known to have been a fan.

“Surely, you must be joking,” Aech said.

“No, I am not joking. And don’t call me Shirley.”

He lowered the magazine and leaned forward. “There is no way Halliday was a fan of Ladyhawke. I guarantee it.”

“Where’s your proof, dipshit?” I asked.

“The man had taste. That’s all the proof I need.”

“Then please explain to me why he owned Ladyhawke on both VHS and LaserDisc?” A list of all the films in Halliday’s collection at the time of his death was included in the appendices of Anorak’s Almanac. We both had the list memorized.

“The guy was a billionaire! He owned millions of movies, most of which he probably never even watched! He had DVDs of Howard the Duck and Krull, too. That doesn’t mean he liked them, asshat. And it sure as hell doesn’t make them canon.”

“It’s not really up for debate, Homer,” I said. “Ladyhawke is an eighties classic.”

“It’s loving lame, is what it is! The swords look like they were made out of tinfoil. And that soundtrack is epically lame. Full of synthesizers and poo poo. By the motherfucking Alan Parsons Project! Lame-o-rama! Beyond lame! Highlander II lame!

So yeah, this whole chapter is like this from start to finish. Keep in mind that these are the characters we're supposed to root for and think are awesome.

This arguing over a Rutger Hauer fantasy movie goes on for another loving page (including Aech making an empty threat of banning Wade for calling Ewoks "Endorians") before another gunter shows up, I-r0k. I-r0k somehow manages to be even lamer and more poorly written than Aech and Parzival, an obnoxious poseur who walks around with a plasma rifle at all times and harasses everyone. He and Aech share virtual classes together, which is probably the only reason he's even allowed in the Basement.

quote:

“Are you cocks arguing about Star Wars again?” he said, descending the steps and walking over to join the crowd around us. “That poo poo is so played out, yo.”

I turned to Aech. “If you want to ban someone, why don’t you start with this clown?” I hit Reset on the Intellivision and started another game.

“Shut your hole, Penis-ville!” I-r0k replied, using his favorite mispronunciation of my avatar’s name. “He doesn’t ban me ’cause he knows I’m elite! Ain’t that right, Aech?”

“No,” Aech said, rolling his eyes. “That ain’t right. You’re about as elite as my great-grandmother. And she’s dead.”

“Screw you, Aech! And your dead grandma!”

“Gee, I-r0k,” I muttered. “You always manage to elevate the intelligence level of the conversation. The whole room just lights up the moment you arrive.”

Any room with these three people in it would be immediately improved by completely destroying it.

Wade quickly challenges I-r0k's knowledge, and I-r0k decides to test him by daring him to name a game that he pulls out of his inventory. Wade instantly identifies it as Swordquest: Earthworld from 1982, then follows up by challenging I-r0k to name the other three games in the series. When he can't, Wade smugly begins zipping through a bunch of trivia about them and he and Aech bounce questions off one another. The only really important part of this is that Halliday apparently modeled the Hunt after the contest Atari held to help sell the game (which ended prematurely when the last game was canceled in the video game crash of 1983).

quote:

“Fine. You win,” I-r0k said. “But you both obviously need to get a life.”

Is it bad that I agree with I-r0k?

quote:

“And you,” I said, “obviously need to find a new hobby. Because you clearly lack the intelligence and commitment to be a gunter.”

“No doubt,” Aech said. “Try doing some research for a change, I-r0k. I mean, did you ever hear of Wikipedia? It’s free, douchebag.”

I-r0k turned and walked over to the long boxes of comic books stacked on the other side of the room, as if he’d lost interest in the discussion. “Whatever,” he said over his shoulder. “If I didn’t spend so much time offline, getting laid, I’d probably know just as much worthless poo poo as you two do.”

With perfect dramatic timing, the 3-minute warning bell rings and all three have to log out and return to school. I'll include that chapter here as well, because I can summarize it fairly quickly.

quote:

My avatar’s eyes slid open, and I was back in my World History classroom. The seats around me were now filled with other students, and our teacher, Mr. Avenovich, was materializing at the front of the classroom. Mr. A’s avatar looked like a portly, bearded college professor. He sported an infectious grin, wire-rimmed spectacles, and a tweed jacket with patches on the elbows. When he spoke, he somehow always managed to sound like he was reading a passage from Dickens. I liked him. He was a good teacher.

Of course, we didn’t know who Mr. Avenovich really was or where he lived. We didn’t know his real name, or even if “he” was really a man. For all we knew, he could have been a small Inuit woman living in Anchorage, Alaska, who had adopted this appearance and voice to make her students more receptive to her lessons. But for some reason, I suspected that Mr. Avenovich’s avatar looked and sounded just like the person operating it.

The virtual schools are basically the best schools ever. The kids are programmed to be unable to leave their seats or talk to each other so there's no real disciplinary issues, and the virtual environment allows them to have "field trips" literally anywhere, from King Tut's tomb to the inside of a heart.

Wade eats his lunch by eating a real world protein bar while his avatar sits on a grassy field. Like he said before, travel costs virtual money through either teleportation or purchasing an in-game ship (the school parking lot is full of TIE Fighters, X-Wings, Vipers, UFOs, and Space Shuttles). While the more privileged kids (or ones with friends to hitch a ride with) spend their lunch breaks shopping, flying around, hitting up a virtual club, or questing, Wade lacks the friends or funds to really get out.

There are thousands of planets in OASIS, growing from only a few hundred at launch. Some were painstakingly hand-crafted while others were randomly generated, but they run every single fictional environment possible. Along with generic environments like a zombie apocalypse or cyberpunk city, OASIS absorbed just about every existing MMORPG world like Warcraft and Everquest after launch and has licensed tons of IPs: Firefly, Star Wars and Star Trek, the Metaverse from Snow Crash, Middle Earth, The Matrix, etc. You name it, it probably exists.

OASIS is divided into 27 cube-shaped sectors in a Rubik's Cube shape, each 10 light hours long. I previously mentioned that this gives a ridiculous distance of more than 33 billion kilometers to travel from one side to the other, hence teleportation services. Along with selling in-game items, GSS makes most of its money from selling spacecraft fuel and teleportation fees.

quote:

Traveling around inside the OASIS wasn’t just costly—it was also dangerous. Each sector was divided up into many different zones that varied in size and shape. Some zones were so large that they encompassed several planets, while others covered only a few kilometers on the surface of a single world. Each zone had a unique combination of rules and parameters. Magic would function in some zones and not in others. The same was true of technology. If you flew your technology-based starship into a zone where technology didn’t function, your engines would fail the moment you crossed the zone border. Then you’d have to hire some silly gray-bearded sorcerer with a spell-powered space barge to tow your rear end back into a technology zone.

Dual zones permitted the use of both magic and technology, and null zones didn’t allow either. There were pacifist zones where no player-versus-player combat was allowed, and player-versus-player zones where it was every avatar for themselves.

You had to be careful whenever you entered a new zone or sector. You had to be prepared.

Ludus, the school planet, is perfectly boring and ordinary. It's permanently daytime and filled with nothing but thousands of schools, all copied from the same template and separated by seed-generated parks, forests, and rivers. Because Wade can't afford to leave Ludus, he's stuck hitching rides with Aech to be dropped off in low-level zones and kill kobolds and goblins for a few credits that go right back to teleportation fees back to school. All of his equipment came from item drops, and he's painstakingly made it to level 3 after years in OASIS. This is a huge embarrassment as a gunter, but he can't risk going out too much because if he gets expelled due to poor attendance he'll have his school OASIS rig confiscated.

He also can't find a job outside of school, as the Great Recession is in its third decade and even fast food restaurants have a two-year waiting list. And yet....everything keeps going? There's enough government-subsidized food for Wade to grow fat despite climbing a 22-story junk tower twice a day, the schools can provide huge amounts of OASIS rigs for free to students with perfectly average GPAs, and there's a multinational conglomerate that can pay for a whole virtual army with expensive technology, despite the economy being so in the shitter and power so expensive that even automobile travel out of town is too costly for most people.

How the hell does any of this stay standing?

chitoryu12 fucked around with this message at 15:30 on Mar 14, 2018

chitoryu12
Apr 24, 2014

Wheat Loaf posted:

Compared and contrasted with other stories which are built on references and allusions to other works, what is it that really sets RPO apart from, say, the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen or Anno Dracula or Philip José Farmer's Wold Newton concept?

Well, I'd argue that the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen movie is still crap.

What I'd say is that the biggest difference is that these other works aren't just about referencing those works. League isn't just about Quatermain, the Invisible Man, Mina, and Dr. Jekyll constantly referencing and calling back to their standalone fiction to each other. They're not just reliving their prior adventures with other characters. The point is to take these existing characters and mash them up to see how they work together in unrelated situations.

RPO is about the references. The plot itself is one that's been rehashed over and over and the book would be 1/4 its length with all the 80s references excised. It's about pointing at stuff that's popular for nerds to be into and combining it all for the sake of it. The thread title I chose, in case you haven't seen it, is an old Flash animation that's basically the same thing as RPO but 3 minutes long.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4WgT9gy4zQA

chitoryu12
Apr 24, 2014

This is also a good explanation of it:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VMBylNJQEbg

chitoryu12
Apr 24, 2014

I'm going to do one more update right off, a relatively short one. Ernest Cline decided that the best way to write would be to have two chapters back to back describing OASIS and a biography of Halliday. The plot gets put on hold for this, so I'll just knock out the rest of the exposition here.

quote:

After lunch, I headed to my favorite class, Advanced OASIS Studies. This was a senior-year elective where you learned about the history of the OASIS and its creators. Talk about an easy A.

For the past five years, I’d devoted all of my free time to learning as much as I possibly could about James Halliday. I’d exhaustively studied his life, accomplishments, and interests. Over a dozen different Halliday biographies had been published in the years since his death, and I’d read them all. Several documentary films had also been made about him, and I’d studied those, too. I’d studied every word Halliday had ever written, and I’d played every videogame he’d ever made. I took notes, writing down every detail I thought might be related to the Hunt. I kept everything in a notebook (which I’d started to call my “grail diary” after watching the third Indiana Jones film).

The more I’d learned about Halliday’s life, the more I’d grown to idolize him. He was a god among geeks, a nerd über-deity on the level of Gygax, Garriott, and Gates. He’d left home after high school with nothing but his wits and his imagination, and he’d used them to attain worldwide fame and amass a vast fortune. He’d created an entirely new reality that now provided an escape for most of humanity. And to top it all off, he’d turned his last will and testament into the greatest videogame contest of all time.

I spent most of my time in Advanced OASIS Studies class annoying our teacher, Mr. Ciders, by pointing out errors in our textbook and raising my hand to interject some relevant bit of Halliday trivia that I (and I alone) thought was interesting. After the first few weeks of class, Mr. Ciders had stopped calling on me unless no one else knew the answer to his question.

Today, he was reading excerpts from The Egg Man, a bestselling Halliday biography that I’d already read four times. During his lecture, I kept having to resist the urge to interrupt him and point out all of the really important details the book left out. Instead, I just made a mental note of each omission, and as Mr. Ciders began to recount the circumstances of Halliday’s childhood, I once again tried to glean whatever secrets I could from the strange way Halliday had lived his life, and from the odd clues about himself he’d chosen to leave behind.

Halliday (who was almost definitely autistic) was born June 12, 1972 in Middletown, OH. His father was an alcoholic machine operator and his mother was a bipolar waitress, so not exactly the best environment for someone with autism. He had no friends or social skills until another boy in school, Ogden Morrow, saw him reading the Dungeons & Dragons Player's Handbook by himself in the cafeteria and invited him to game with them. Morrow and Halliday quickly became best friends and business partners.

Halliday became a game programmer at 15, creating Anorak's Quest for a TRS-80 Color Computer ("Anorak" was a nickname he was given by a British exchange student). It was only created for his D&D group, but Morrow encouraged him to start selling it. They quickly went from selling floppy disks out of ziplock bags to establishing their own game company, first in Morrow's basement and then in an office in a Columbus, OH strip mall. Gregarious Games took the gaming industry by storm, creating revolutionary works until by the end of the 1990s Halliday was viewed as possibly the greatest game developer of all time.

Morrow acted as the businessman while Halliday stuck to programming. He could charitably be called "eccentric", walking out of conversations or interviews if he got bored and laughing to himself for no apparent reason. He often locked himself away for days or weeks to work on games, and had such an obsession with the 80s that he would occasionally lash out and fire employees who didn't get his references (Morrow would then rehire them).

quote:

By their thirtieth birthdays, Halliday and Morrow were both multimillionaires. They purchased mansions on the same street. Morrow bought a Lamborghini, took several long vacations, and traveled the world. Halliday bought and restored one of the original DeLoreans used in the Back to the Future films, continued to spend nearly all of his time welded to a computer keyboard, and used his newfound wealth to amass what would eventually become the world’s largest private collection of classic videogames, Star Wars action figures, vintage lunch boxes, and comic books.

At the height of its success, Gregarious Games appeared to fall dormant. Several years elapsed during which they released no new games. Morrow made cryptic announcements, saying the company was working on an ambitious project that would move them in an entirely new direction.Rumors began to circulate that Gregarious Games was developing some sort of new computer gaming hardware and that this secret project was rapidly exhausting the company’s considerable financial resources. There were also indications that both Halliday and Morrow had invested most of their own personal fortunes in the company’s new endeavor. Word began to spread that Gregarious Games was in danger of going bankrupt.

Then, in December 2012, Gregarious Games rebranded itself as Gregarious Simulation Systems, and under this new banner they launched their flagship product, the only product GSS would ever release: the OASIS—the Ontologically Anthropocentric Sensory Immersive Simulation.

The OASIS would ultimately change the way people around the world lived, worked, and communicated. It would transform entertainment, social networking, and even global politics. Even though it was initially marketed as a new kind of massively multiplayer online game, the OASIS quickly evolved into a new way of life.

OASIS is the perfect game for everyone. The graphics are detailed down to individual blades of grass and weather patterns on a planetary scale. Halliday and Morrow imagined it as the perfect escape from a boring world, where guaranteed anonymity allowed you to create whatever idealized self you wanted. As an "open-source reality", anyone could create new worlds or even make their own private planets in a sort of cyber-Mormonism. The visor uses low-power lasers to beam images directly onto the user's retinas and the haptic feedback gloves allow for realistic touch feedback. Halliday's genius programming allowed for 5 million simultaneous users on launch, which has expanded to billions by 2045.

quote:

Most online games of the day generated revenue by charging users a monthly subscription fee for access. GSS only charged a onetime sign-up fee of twenty-five cents, for which you received a lifetime OASIS account. The ads all used the same tagline: The OASIS—it’s the greatest videogame ever created, and it only costs a quarter.

At a time of drastic social and cultural upheaval, when most of the world’s population longed for an escape from reality, the OASIS provided it, in a form that was cheap, legal, safe, and not (medically proven to be) addictive. The ongoing energy crisis contributed greatly to the OASIS’s runaway popularity. The skyrocketing cost of oil made airline and automobile travel too expensive for the average citizen, and the OASIS became the only getaway most people could afford. As the era of cheap, abundant energy drew to a close, poverty and unrest began to spread like a virus. Every day, more and more people had reason to seek solace inside Halliday and Morrow’s virtual utopia.

Any business that wanted to set up shop inside the OASIS had to rent or purchase virtual real estate (which Morrow dubbed “surreal estate”) from GSS. Anticipating this, the company had set aside Sector One as the simulation’s designated business zone and began to sell and rent millions of blocks of surreal estate there. City-sized shopping malls were erected in the blink of an eye, and storefronts spread across planets like time-lapse footage of mold devouring an orange. Urban development had never been so easy.

In addition to the billions of dollars that GSS raked in selling land that didn’t actually exist, they made a killing selling virtual objects and vehicles. The OASIS became such an integral part of people’s day-to-day social lives that users were more than willing to shell out real money to buy accessories for their avatars: clothing, furniture, houses, flying cars, magic swords and machine guns. These items were nothing but ones and zeros stored on the OASIS servers, but they were also status symbols. Most items only cost a few credits, but since they cost nothing for GSS to manufacture, it was all profit. Even in the throes of an ongoing economic recession, the OASIS allowed Americans to continue engaging in their favorite pastime: shopping.

The OASIS quickly became the single most popular use for the Internet, so much so that the terms “OASIS” and “Internet” gradually became synonymous. And the incredibly easy-to-use three-dimensional OASIS OS, which GSS gave away for free, became the single most popular computer operating system in the world.

Before long, billions of people around the world were working and playing in the OASIS every day. Some of them met, fell in love, and got married without ever setting foot on the same continent. The lines of distinction between a person’s real identity and that of their avatar began to blur.

It was the dawn of new era, one where most of the human race now spent all of their free time inside a videogame.

chitoryu12 fucked around with this message at 17:08 on Mar 14, 2018

chitoryu12
Apr 24, 2014

Solumin posted:

And look, he managed to mention that rich guy's movie collection without going into excruciating detail about it! Usually he'd be listing everything that was in it.

Oh just you wait.

chitoryu12
Apr 24, 2014

sportsgenius86 posted:

I started reading this the other day just so it's at least fair when I poo poo on my wife's friend for loving this book and oh my god it's worse than everyone said.

The bad part is there's a fairly interesting story there IMO, the execution is just so painstakingly awful that it's irredeemable. In better hands it could be a fairly interesting book. It's bad to the level that I'd think it was an intricate troll job if I didn't already know more about Cline.

Honestly, the actual game world would be a really interesting place for adventures. I want to like the idea of an MMO with a playing field 10 times larger than the solar system where you can drop into just about any fictional universe the author can think of.

Cline just does it a complete disservice. He thinks that nerdiness (and in his mind, attractiveness as a person) is about consuming and enjoying traditionally "nerdy" media while geeking out about science and numbers, and he puts his own childhood on a pedestal above all others. He doesn't put any stock into whether or not anything he's consuming is actually good. The gunters' cargo cult of the 80s isn't presented as a bizarre reversal of the progress of human civilization, but as something to aspire to as the epitome of coolness.

I will say that the book tries to present spending your entire life in an MMO and worshiping the 80s as a bad thing toward the end, but the message flies in the face of how awesome it's all presented as earlier.

chitoryu12
Apr 24, 2014

I decided to look on Tumblr to see the current climate regarding the movie.

chitoryu12
Apr 24, 2014

Memento posted:

burn it to the god drat ground

XPs and videogames

chitoryu12
Apr 24, 2014

sector_corrector posted:

This book is awful, but doing whatever it is this thread is is severely loving deranged.

Reading it? I agree.

chitoryu12
Apr 24, 2014

Angry Salami posted:

So traveling from planet to planet or across zones isn't instantaneous? You gotta actually get in your spaceship and spend time traveling across virtual interstellar distances? How much time are players spending just sitting in their imaginary spaceship just commuting?

Did Chris Roberts play any role in designing this world?

There’s teleportation, but it costs credits. Wade is stuck because he has no friends to hitch rides with and is too poor to afford teleports or spacecraft.

But yes, the fastest spacecraft travel at light speed so it would take at least 30 hours with the best ships to fly from end to end of OASIS.

What would the volume of OASIS be?

chitoryu12
Apr 24, 2014

Deptfordx posted:

I completely missed Ready Player One till the movie trailers hit.

I have to ask, what's the infamous excerpt that people keep referring to?

Edit: Wait is it the post above from Pastry that I literally just noticed?

Oh no, it's one in this next update. I'm just going to include a screenshot because gently caress transcribing it.

chitoryu12
Apr 24, 2014

TheGreatEvilKing posted:

So energy is now expensive which is why we can afford to run all these VR headsets? But not run an electric car or something to get around?

He says that there's streams of electric cars going down the interstate to the city when Wade leaves for his hideout, but also that oil is so expensive that people need to use OASIS to get out because they can't even take road trips.

So...which is it?

chitoryu12
Apr 24, 2014

quote:

The rest of my school day passed quickly until my final class, Latin.

Most students took a foreign language they might actually be able to use someday, like Mandarin, or Hindi, or Spanish. I’d decided to take Latin because James Halliday had taken Latin. He’d also occasionally used Latin words and phrases in his early adventure games. Unfortunately, even with the limitless possibilities of the OASIS at her disposal, my Latin teacher, Ms. Rank, still had a hard time making her lessons interesting. And today she was reviewing a bunch of verbs I’d already memorized, so I found my attention drifting almost immediately.

While a class was in session, the simulation prevented students from accessing any data or programs that weren’t authorized by their teacher, to prevent kids from watching movies, playing games, or chatting with each other instead of paying attention to the lesson. Luckily, during my junior year, I’d discovered a bug in the school’s online library software, and by exploiting it, I could access any book in the school’s online library, including Anorak’s Almanac. So whenever I got bored (like right now) I would pull it up in a window on my display and read over my favorite passages to pass the time.

Over the past five years, the Almanac had become my bible. Like most books nowadays, it was only available in electronic format. But I’d wanted to be able to read the Almanac night or day, even during one of the stacks’ frequent power outages, so I’d fixed up an old discarded laser printer and used it to print out a hard copy. I put it in an old three-ring binder that I kept in my backpack and studied until I knew every word by heart.

The Almanac contained thousands of references to Halliday’s favorite books, TV shows, movies, songs, graphic novels, and videogames. Most of these items were over forty years old, and so free digital copies of them could be downloaded from the OASIS. If there was something I needed that wasn’t legally available for free, I could almost always get it by using Guntorrent, a file-sharing program used by gunters around the world.

Ah, here we go. This is the "infamous excerpt", the one that decides whether you're going to love or hate this book. I'm not going to transcribe it because it would be way too much effort fixing the spacing and italics, so you get a screenshot instead.



So coming off that eye-glazing monologue, we learn that Wade already figured out the first clue 4 years ago!

While obsessively reading the Almanac, Wade noticed that some letters had a tiny notch on them (Minecraft reference spotted). He thought it was a printing error in his hard copy at first, but confirmed that they were in the electronic copy. Writing down the marked letters, he found that they formed another message:

quote:

Three hidden keys open three secret gates
Wherein the errant will be tested for worthy traits
And those with the skill to survive these straits
Will reach The End where the prize awaits

Other gunters had found this message, but kept it to themselves. Then after 6 months, an MIT freshman named Steven Pendergast publicized it and took credit in an interview. Going public with a clue thereafter became known among gunters as "pulling a Pendergast".

This rhyming phrase, the Limerick, spent years unsolved. Wade decided to figure out the meaning line by line, and started doing some research.

quote:

The Copper Key awaits explorers

This line seemed pretty straightforward. No hidden meaning that I could detect.

In a tomb filled with horrors.

This line was trickier. Taken at face value, it seemed to say that the key was hidden in a tomb somewhere, one filled with horrifying stuff. But then,during the course of my research, I discovered an old Dungeons & Dragons supplement called Tomb of Horrors, which had been published in 1978. From the moment I saw the title, I was certain the second line of the Limerick was a reference to it. Halliday and Morrow had played Advanced Dungeons & Dragons all through high school, along with several other pen-and-paper role-playing games, like GURPS, Champions, Car Wars, and Rolemaster.

Tomb of Horrors was a thin booklet called a “module.” It contained detailed maps and room-by-room descriptions of an underground labyrinth infested with undead monsters. D&D players could explore the labyrinth with their characters as the dungeon master read from the module and guided them through the story it contained, describing everything they saw and encountered along the way.

As I learned more about how these early role-playing games worked, I realized that a D&D module was the primitive equivalent of a quest in the OASIS. And D&D characters were just like avatars. In a way, these old role-playing games had been the first virtual-reality simulations, created long before computers were powerful enough to do the job. In those days, if you wanted to escape to another world, you had to create it yourself, using your brain, some paper, pencils, dice, and a few rule books. This realization kind of blew my mind. It changed my whole perspective on the Hunt for Halliday’s Easter egg. From then on, I began to think of the Hunt as an elaborate D&D module. And Halliday was obviously the dungeon master, even if he was now controlling the game from beyond the grave.

I found a digital copy of the sixty-seven-year-old Tomb of Horrors module buried deep in an ancient FTP archive. As I studied it, I began to develop a theory: Somewhere in the OASIS, Halliday had re-created the Tomb of Horrors, and he’d hidden the Copper Key inside it.

I spent the next few months studying the module and memorizing all of its maps and room descriptions, in anticipation of the day I would finally figure out where it was located. But that was the rub: The Limerick didn’t appear to give any hint as to where Halliday had hidden the drat thing. The only clue seemed to be “you have much to learn if you hope to earn a place among the high scorers.”

I recited those words over and over in my head until I wanted to howl in frustration. Much to learn. Yeah, OK, fine. I have much to learn about what?

Okay, I'm calling bullshit on this one too. Tabletop RPGs remain extraordinarily popular even now as we hit the 2020s and show no sign of disappearing. Wade was born in 2025, so he's not that far off from us. And yet despite OASIS having a planet literally called Gygax and filled with recreations of old D&D modules, he's never even heard of pen & paper roleplaying or known how they worked?

So the big problem with this clue is that there's thousands of planets. Gunterpedia has a comprehensive list of every quest on planet Gygax and the Tomb of Horrors isn't one of them, nor on any other pen & paper planets.

Also the chapter actually ends here, but I'm moving on to the next one because almost the entire chapter was taken up with Wade's rambling about all the 80s poo poo he's obsessed over.

quote:

Our teacher, Ms. Rank, was standing at the front of the class, slowly conjugating Latin verbs. She said them in English first, then in Latin, and each word automatically appeared on the board behind her as she spoke it. Whenever we were doing tedious verb conjugation, I always got the lyrics to an old Schoolhouse Rock! song stuck in my head: “To run, to go, to get, to give. Verb! You’re what’s happenin’!”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=weaCffBvWGE

quote:

I was quietly humming this tune to myself when Ms. Rank began to conjugate the Latin for the verb “to learn.” “To Learn. Discere,” she said. “Now, this one should be easy to remember, because it’s similar to the English word ‘discern,’ which also means ‘to learn.’"

Hearing her repeat the phrase “to learn” was enough to make me think of the Limerick. You have much to learn if you hope to earn a place among the high scorers.

Ms. Rank continued, using the verb in a sentence. “We go to school to learn,” she said. “Petimus scholam ut litteras discamus.”

And that was when it hit me. Like an anvil falling out of the sky, directly onto my skull. I gazed around at my classmates. What group of people has “much to learn”?

Students. High-school students.

I was on a planet filled with students, all of whom had “much to learn.”

What if the Limerick was saying that the tomb was hidden right here, on Ludus? The very planet where I’d been twiddling my thumbs for the past five years? Then I remembered that ludus was also a Latin word, meaning “school.” I pulled up my Latin dictionary to double-check the definition, and that was when I discovered the word had more than one meaning. Ludus could mean “school,” but it could also mean “sport” or “game.”

Game.

I fell out of my folding chair and landed with a thud on the floor of my hideout. My OASIS console tracked this movement and attempted to make my avatar drop to the floor of my Latin classroom, but the classroom conduct software prevented it from moving and a warning flashed on my display: PLEASE REMAIN SEATED DURING CLASS!

Halliday had donated billions to establish the OASIS public school system and Halliday Learning Foundation before his death, and clearly cared quite a lot about education, but there are thousands of schools on the planet and hundreds of private schools and universities elsewhere in the game. Wade figures Ludus could still be the location because, as one of the original planets, GSS handcrafted it and Halliday would have been involved enough to be able to mess with the source code. He also starts considering the implications of Halliday wanting a schoolkid to find the Copper Key, but doesn't tell us what he's implying.

Wade thinks that if the Tomb of Horrors is anywhere on Ludus, it'll look like the way it's described in the module: "a low, flat-topped hill, about two hundred yards wide and three hundred yards long” with a series of flat black stones arranged in the shape of a skull. Ludus is a big place, so it's very possible that nobody has stumbled upon it even by accident simply because it's a loving planet.

Wade has to spend the next 17 minutes sitting anxiously for class to finish and unlock his avatar. Once it's over, he remains in the empty classroom and opens up a 3D holographic map of the planet. It has a circumference of exactly 1000 kilometers; Cline says this is about 1/3 the size of Earth's moon, but a quick Google shows that the circumference of the moon is actually 10,921 kilometers and Ludus is actually less than 1/10th the size of the moon. There's no oceans, just grasslands and forests divided by rivers and lakes, and it's permanently daytime with a cloudless blue sky.

Wade searches through a warez site for a high-end image recognition plugin to download for OASIS and has it scan for any sites matching the image data of the Tomb of Horrors entrance. After 10 minutes, he's got a match. The only problem is that it's over 400 kilometers away, and at full speed it would take his avatar 3 days to run there. Teleportation would take minutes, but he hasn't got a single credit to his name. So he decides to cheat a little.

quote:

Each OASIS public school had a bunch of different athletic teams, including wrestling, soccer, football, baseball, volleyball, and a few other sports that couldn’t be played in the real world, like Quidditch and zero-gravity Capture the Flag. Students went out for these teams just like they did at schools in the real world, and they played using elaborate sports-capable haptic rigs that required them to actually do all of their own running, jumping, kicking, tackling, and so on. The teams had nightly practice, held pep rallies, and traveled to other schools on Ludus to compete against them. Our school gave out free teleportation vouchers to any student who wanted to attend an away game, so we could sit up in the stands and root for old OPS #1873. I’d only taken advantage of this once, when our Capture the Flag team had played against Aech’s school in the OPS championships.

When I arrived in the school office, I scanned the activities schedule and found what I was looking for right away. That evening, our football team was playing an away game against OPS #0571, which was located roughly an hour’s run from the forest where the tomb was hidden.

I reached out and selected the game, and a teleportation voucher instantly appeared in my avatar’s inventory, good for one free round-trip to OPS #0571.

Wade trades his books for his armor, shield, and sword at his locker and sprints out of the school. As he crosses the boundaries that indicate he's leaving the school zone, he turns off his floating nametag to keep from being identified. The transport terminal is a large domed pavilion supported by a dozen ivory pillars, each emblazoned with a T in a blue hexagon. Wade steps into the first booth (which he says reminds him of the TARDIS because it's a blue booth) and inserts the voucher, invoicing his school 103 credits for 462 kilometers of travel.

Wade instantly appears at the other school, which looks completely identical except for the surrounding scenery. He wonders why anyone would actually go to a game when they could just watch a video elsewhere, especially since NPC fans would be used to fill the stands anyway. I'm sure football has the same weight on Wade's mind as religion: it's for ugh, normal people.

quote:

I was already running in the opposite direction, across a rolling green field that stretched out behind the school. A small mountain range loomed in the distance, and I could see the amoeba-shaped forest at its base.

I turned on my avatar’s autorun feature, then opened my inventory and selected three of the items listed there. My armor appeared on my body,my shield appeared in a sling on my back, and my sword appeared in its scabbard, hanging at my side.

I was almost to the edge of the forest when my phone rang. The ID said it was Aech. Probably calling to see why I hadn’t logged into the Basement yet. But if I answered the call, he would see a live video feed of my avatar, running across a field at top speed, with OPS #0571 shrinking in the distance behind me. I could conceal my current location by taking the call as audio only, but that might make him suspicious. So I let the call roll to my vidmail. Aech’s face appeared in a small window on my display. He was calling from a PvP arena somewhere. Dozens of avatars were locked in fierce combat on a multitiered playing field behind him.

“Yo, Z! What are you up to? Jerking off to Ladyhawke?” He flashed his Cheshire grin. “Give me a shout. I’m still planning to pop some corn and have a Spaced marathon. You down?” He hung up and his image winked out.

I sent a text-only reply, saying I had a ton of homework and couldn’t hang tonight. Then I pulled up the Tomb of Horrors module and began to read through it again, page by page. I did this slowly and carefully, because I was pretty sure it contained a detailed description of everything I was about to face.

“In the far reaches of the world, under a lost and lonely hill,” read the module’s introduction, “lies the sinister TOMB OF HORRORS. This labyrinthine crypt is filled with terrible traps, strange and ferocious monsters, rich and magical treasures, and somewhere within rests the evil Demi-Lich.”

That last bit worried me. A lich was an undead creature, usually an incredibly powerful wizard or king who had employed dark magic to bind his intellect to his own reanimated corpse, thus achieving a perverted form of immortality. I’d encountered liches in countless videogames and fantasy novels. They were to be avoided at all costs.

Wade studies the map and memorizes all the traps and puzzles. If Halliday recreated the Tomb of Horrors perfectly, he's in big trouble trying to fight Acererak at the end because of his low level. If he dies, he loses all his items and progress and has to start over as a level 1 avatar. The only thing he's got going for him (other than being the only one he knows of to figure out the clues) is that as a level three, he won't lose a ton of progress and can theoretically just keep running back to try again over and over.

After passing through the forest (where trees are rendered in such detail that you can even see ants climbing over the bark), he climbs the low hilltop and sees the exact same image from the book:



Using his shield as a shovel, Wade digs through the spot in the cliff where the module says the tomb is buried. Sure enough, he finds a tunnel with a mosaic of colorful stones forming the floor and a red tile path leading deeper.

Clutching his sword and flashlight, Wade finally enters the plot.

chitoryu12
Apr 24, 2014

Mel Mudkiper posted:

Yeah but the strongest world economy is a virtual reality world built around the tastes of an eccentric anglophile with a nostalgia complex. If anything, English would be the only language left on earth because it was the primary communication method in an instant global economy

Also, no one ever noticed a giant hill with a skullface before? In 30 years?????

It’s a little justifiable, since as a planet with a 1000 km circumference and nothing but schools it wouldn’t really be a place for exploring. Wade says that none of the simulated animals in the forest grant XP for killing them so it’s not worth adventuring when you can go to the Star Wars universe or something.

chitoryu12
Apr 24, 2014

Mel Mudkiper posted:

I dunno, I feel like this universe has to have a ulillillia or two who spends all their free time mapping out poo poo no one cares about

You have a point there.

Also I mentioned this in another thread long before I started reading this book, but Cline establishes that there were movies beyond Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull while still leaving Mad Max as "holy trilogy", despite Mad Max: Fury Road being known to be in production with the cast publicized at the time of this book's writing and publishing.

chitoryu12
Apr 24, 2014

Drunken Baker posted:

The whole 80s obsession was brought about BECAUSE of the "Easter Egg", right? I might be wrong here, but that's how it came off to me.

But like it's been said before, it's not even about 80s culture. It's about what Cline likes, the majority of which just happens to be from the 80s.

Yeah, OASIS has every nerdy environment you could think of as a game world. That's why it has stuff like Firefly despite not being 80s.

Halliday's Hunt became such a phenomenon that it singlehandedly led to the 2040s becoming a repeat of 80s pop culture, with even fashion and music taking after the 80s. And it's the 80s because Cline loves the 80s, so he made Halliday almost the same age as him so he could justify the book being predominately about 80s stuff.

Also I read ahead to the fight with Acererak and you're going to loving die, either laughing or facepalming.

chitoryu12
Apr 24, 2014

Mel Mudkiper posted:

So I just did some light research into the timeline of events in the book and it makes no loving sense at all

Yeah, I think OASIS should be getting started around now. Wade was born in the stacks in 2025, which means the recession needs to get so bad (while still being called the Great Recession despite being even worse than the Great Depression) that people start living in 20-story shantytowns only 10 years after the publication of this book!

chitoryu12
Apr 24, 2014

anilEhilated posted:

I'm not sure whether it was you or Cline who missed it but that sure as hell is not a limerick.

It's actually called the Limerick (as a proper noun) by the gunters.

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chitoryu12
Apr 24, 2014

I think this thread is active enough that I can get away with two updates a day.

quote:

The walls of the corridor leading into the tomb were covered with dozens of strange paintings depicting enslaved humans, orcs, elves, and other creatures. Each fresco appeared in the exact location described in the original D&D module. I knew that hidden in the tiled stone surface of the floor were several spring-loaded trapdoors. If you stepped on one, it snapped open and dropped you into a pit filled with poisoned iron spikes. But because the location of each hidden trapdoor was clearly marked on my map, I was able to avoid all of them.

So far, everything had followed the original module to the letter. If the same was true for the rest of the tomb, I might be able to survive long enough to locate the Copper Key. There were only a few monsters lurking in this dungeon—a gargoyle, a skeleton, a zombie, some asps, a mummy, and the evil demi-lich Acererak himself. Since the map told me where each of them was hiding, I should be able to avoid fighting them. Unless, of course, one of them was guarding the Copper Key. And I could already guess who probably had that honor.

I tried to proceed carefully, as if I had no idea what to expect.

Avoiding the Sphere of Annihilation located at the end of the corridor, I located a hidden door beside the last pit trap. It opened into a small sloping passageway. My flashlight reached into the darkness ahead, flickering off the damp stone walls. My surroundings made me feel like I was in a low-budget sword-and-sorcery flick, like Hawk the Slayer or The Beastmaster.

I began to make my way through the dungeon, room by room. Even though I knew where all of the traps were located, I still had to proceed carefully to avoid them all. In a dark, forbidding chamber known as the Chapel of Evil, I found thousands of gold and silver coins hidden in the pews, right where they were supposed to be. It was more money than my avatar could carry, even with the Bag of Holding that I found. I gathered up as many of the gold coins as I could and they appeared in my inventory. The currency was automatically converted and my credit counter jumped to over twenty thousand, by far the largest amount of money I’d ever had. And in addition to the credits, my avatar received an equal number of experience points for obtaining the coins.

As I continued deeper into the tomb, I obtained several magic items along the way. A +1 Flaming Sword. A Gem of Seeing. A +1 Ring of Protection. I even found a suit of +3 Full Plate armor. These were the first magic items my avatar had ever possessed, and they made me feel unstoppable.

When I put on the suit of magical armor, it shrank to fit my avatar perfectly. Its gleaming chrome appearance reminded me of the bad-rear end armor worn by the knights in Excalibur. I actually switched to a third-person view for a few seconds, just to admire how cool my avatar looked wearing it.

If you find this description incredibly boring, get used to it because that's how this book is. Rather than a detailed, action-packed description of Wade going through the Tomb of Horrors, we get paragraphs simply describing what he did over the course of minutes or hours. It's almost like an autistic person describing their favorite video game.

In the Pillared Throne Room, we get the first difference: Acererak is sitting on the throne, far sooner than he's supposed to be encountered. This is a huge problem, because Wade's level 3 avatar and +1 Flaming Sword can't do diddly squat against a lich. At least if he dies he can just come back and try again at level 1. He tries to activate his game's recording function, but finds that it's not allowed in here.

quote:

“I seek the Copper Key,” I replied. Then I remembered I was speaking to a king, so I quickly bowed my head, dropped to one knee, and added, “Your Majesty.”

“Of course you do,” Acererak said, motioning for me to rise. “And you’ve come to the right place.” He stood, and his mummified skin cracked like old leather as he moved. I clutched my sword more tightly, still anticipating an attack.

“How can I know that you are worthy of possessing the Copper Key?” he asked.

Holy poo poo! How the hell was I supposed to answer that? And what if I gave the wrong answer? Would he suck out my soul and incinerate me?

I racked my brain for a suitable reply. The best I could come up with was, “Allow me to prove my worth, noble Acererak.”

All right, in the real Tomb of Horrors you can get out without dealing with Acererak as long as you don't attack him when he first materializes (he just absorbs the energy) or touch his skull and let it suck out your soul. So how did Halliday program this fight to get the Copper Key?

quote:

The lich let out a long, disturbing cackle that echoed off the chamber’s stone walls. “Very well!” he said. “You shall prove your worth by facing me in a joust!”

I’d never heard of an undead lich king challenging someone to a joust. Especially not in a subterranean burial chamber. “All right,” I said uncertainly. “But won’t we be needing horses for that?”

“Not horses,” he replied, stepping away from his throne. “Birds.”

He waved a skeletal hand at his throne. There was a brief flash of light, accompanied by a transformation sound effect (which I was pretty sure had been lifted from the old Super Friends cartoon). The throne melted and morphed into an old coin-operated videogame cabinet. Two joysticks protruded from its control panel, one yellow and one blue. I couldn’t help but grin as I read the name on the game’s backlit marquee: JOUST. Williams Electronics, 1982.

“Best two out of three games,” Acererak rasped. “If you win, I shall grant you what you seek.”

Jesus Christ.

quote:

The fireball in Acererak’s hand vanished. He stretched out his leathery palm, which now held two shiny quarters. “The games are on me,” he said.

He stepped up to the Joust machine and dropped both quarters into the left coin slot. The game emitted two low electronic chimes and the credit counter jumped from zero to two.

Acererak took hold of the yellow joystick on the left side of the control panel and closed his bony fingers around it. “Art thou ready?” he croaked.

“Yeah,” I said, taking a deep breath. I cracked my knuckles and grabbed the Player Two joystick with my left hand, poising my right hand over the Flap button.

Acererak rocked his head from left to right, cracking his neck. It sounded like a snapping tree branch. Then he slapped the Two Player button and the joust began.

This is the funniest thing in the goddamn world.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BWoiLNri0OM

Acererak is much, much better at Joust than Wade is. Wade needs to take the first five minutes just to remember the controls, while Acererak is an AI that barely makes mistakes. The lich easily defeats Wade, who asks if he can switch sides because he's used to the other side of the cabinet. Hilariously, Acererak lets them switch players.

quote:

It worked. I slipped into the zone, and the tide began to turn in my favor. I began to find the flaws in the lich’s playing style, the holes in his programming. This was something I’d learned over the years, mastering hundreds of different videogames. There was always a trick to beating a computer-controlled opponent. At a game like this, a gifted human player could always triumph over the game’s AI, because software couldn’t improvise. It could either react randomly, or in a limited number of predetermined ways, based on a finite number of preprogrammed conditions. This was an axiom in videogames, and would be until humans invented true artificial intelligence.

Our second game came right down to the wire, but by the end of it, I’d spotted a pattern to the lich’s playing technique. By changing my ostrich’s direction at a certain moment, I could get him to slam his stork into one of the oncoming buzzards. By repeating this move, I was able to pick off his extra lives, one by one. I died several times myself in the process, but I finally took him down during the tenth wave, with no extra lives of my own to spare.

I stepped back from the machine and sighed with relief. I could feel rivulets of sweat running down my forehead and around the edge of my visor. I wiped at my face with the sleeve of my shirt, and my avatar mimicked this motion.

“Good game,” Acererak said. Then, to my surprise, he offered me his withered claw of a hand. I shook it, chuckling nervously as I did so.

“Yeah,” I replied. “Good game, man.” It occurred to me that, in a weird way, I was actually playing against Halliday. I quickly pushed the thought out of my head, afraid I might psych myself out.

Acererak once again produced two quarters and dropped them into the Joust machine. “This one is for all the marbles,” he said. “Art thou ready?”

Honestly this scene would be legitimately great if it wasn't so dry. I actually really like the idea of it. Cline just gets so wrapped up in boring descriptions of activity that he doesn't put any soul into it. There's no tension, one paragraph drifting to the next to an inevitable conclusion.

Wade defeats Acererak, who angrily smashes the console to pixels that scatter across the floor. As he and Wade exchange bows, Acererak transforms into Anorak, Halliday's avatar.

quote:

“Now,” the wizard said, speaking with Halliday’s familiar voice. “Your reward.”

The chamber filled with the sound of a full orchestra. Triumphant horns were quickly joined by a stirring string section. I recognized the music. It was the last track from John Williams’s original Star Wars score, used in the scene where Princess Leia gives Luke and Han their medals (and Chewbacca, as you may recall, gets the shaft).

As the music built to a crescendo, Anorak stretched out his right hand. There, resting in his open palm, was the Copper Key, the item for which millions of people had been searching for the past five years. As he handed it to me, the music faded out, and in the same instant, I heard a chime sound. I’d just gained fifty thousand experience points, enough to raise my avatar all the way up to tenth level.

“Farewell, Sir Parzival,” Anorak said. “I bid you good luck on your quest.” And before I could ask what I was supposed to do next, or where I could find the first gate, his avatar vanished in a flash of light, accompanied by a teleportation sound effect I knew was lifted from the old ’80s Dungeons & Dragons cartoon.

See, this is what I'm talking about. It's nerdiness distilled to the barest components: references. This would work much better in a movie, where things like the teleportation sound would be subtle Easter eggs for viewers to identify. In a book where the protagonist has to explain everything going on, it feels more like Cline made a list of every 80s sci-fi and fantasy work and checked off a box every time he referenced one.

Wade looks down at the key with wonder and elation. We know this because Wade says that he looks down at it with wonder and elation. It's a simple antique copper key embossed with a Roman numeral I. Engraved along the length of the key is “What you seek lies hidden in the trash on the deepest level of Daggorath.” Wade is such a nerd that he instantly understands its meaning: the TRS-80 computer was nicknamed the "Trash 80" back in the 80s, and Dungeons of Daggorath is an obscure 1982 computer game for the TRS-80 Color Computer 2. Wade also gets off topic by explaining how "dagorath" is Elvish for "battle" in Tolkien's works but he knows it's Dungeons of Daggorath because it has two g's.

The next place Wade needs to go, therefore, is the planet of Middletown. Halliday made a perfect recreation of his hometown, including an extremely detailed reproduction of his childhood home and room. While he's never been able to visit, Wade knows from pictures and videos that Halliday's room on planet Middletown has a TRS-80.

quote:

I checked the time: 11:03 p.m., OST (OASIS Server Time, which also happened to be Eastern Standard Time). I had eight hours before I had to be at school. That might be enough time. I could go for it, right now. Sprint like hell, back up through the dungeon to the surface, then hightail it back to the nearest transport terminal. From there, I could teleport directly to Middletown. If I left right now, I should be able to reach Halliday’s TRS-80 in under an hour.

I knew I should get some sleep first. I’d been logged into the OASIS for almost fifteen solid hours. And tomorrow was Friday. I could teleport to Middletown right after school and then I’d have the whole weekend to tackle the First Gate.

But who was I kidding? There was no way I’d be able to sleep tonight, or sit through school tomorrow. I had to go now.

I began to sprint for the exit, but then stopped in the middle of the chamber. Through the open door, I saw a long shadow bouncing on the wall,accompanied by the echo of approaching footsteps.

A few seconds later, the silhouette of an avatar appeared in the doorway. I was about to reach for my sword when I realized I was still holding the Copper Key in my hand. I shoved it into a pouch on my belt and fumbled my sword out of its scabbard. As I raised my blade, the avatar spoke.

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