Chapter 8
eight
uh oh rip lol
A few people ask him if he’s started playing Four yet, and he explains that he wants to do a full play-through on his own before streaming any.
“Besides, I’d like to wait at least a month before sharing anything about the game, you know?” he says with a casual shrug as he tries to hop his character up the sheer side of a mountain. “Spoilers.”
I set down the bowl of cold cereal I’m currently eating as my late-afternoon lunch to type up a quick response in the stream chat.
OddlyAdored: Thank you, River Song
He leans towards his screen to read more of the messages coming in and then smiles a little before sitting back. “You’re welcome, Oddly.”
I tuck my feet up onto my chair, my thick socks bunching around my ankles, and pick up my cereal bowl to continue eating while I watch his character jog in mid-air as he tries to get over an invisible wall. He eventually gives up and finds a different way around.
“Oh, look who we have here,” he says, coming across a well-dressed Cliff Gnome near a sketchy-looking cave. This NPC is infamous, and people are already yelling in the chat.
SpacePudding: SCONES NO
KarlachsBitch: uh oh rip lol
LinkFarts: razzzzzyyyyyyyyy
“I don’t know what you guys are talking about,” Damien says innocently as he starts a dialogue with the gnome. “This Rasmund seems like a fine gentleman. He just wants me to go into this creepy-ass cave and get his family heirloom. What’s the harm in that?”
NeverSayCheetos: bruh
“Hmm. Chat: do we trust him?” he continues, pausing outside the cave entrance. “And no meta-gaming here, all right? Would you trust ol’ Raz here if you met him at the side of the road or not?”
OddlyAdored: I’d totally trust him and you should definitely go in that cave.
He stops to read again. “See, Oddly trusts him,” he says. “And Oddly wouldn’t steer me wrong. She knows her shit.”
SpacePudding: FFS at least get your crossbow out man
HadTrash93: As soon as he aggros The Angel he’s dead, this guy is too squishy
OddlyAdored: If you use a Stealth potion and disable all the traps in the left corridor, you can bypass most of the minions and sneak up on The Angel without her waking up. In theory.
Damien opens his inventory on screen and scrolls through his list of potions, but there are none for stealth, so he looks through his other items. “I have boots with an extra two percent Stealth,” he says. “D’you think that’s enough?”
OddlyAdored: RIP Scones
I stay up way too late on Thursday night as well, and by Friday morning I am a disgusting, crusty shell of a human.
I shower for the first time in two days, pull on some leggings and a t-shirt, and then throw another oversized grandpa cardigan over it to call it an outfit.
At least I only need to work in the back of the shop today, so hardly anyone should see me.
The morning drags on forever, with two days of online orders to catch up on, but I finally get them all packed up and ready to ship out, and Mom lets me skip out early to get back to my game.
I manage to play for an hour before Damien’s stream, and I take a break to watch it while I eat a ridiculously early dinner of—you guessed it—cold cereal. I leave a few comments in the chat, and he responds to all of them. A fact that other people seem to be picking up on.
LinkFarts: why’s this bitch suddenly all over the place?
SammyIsMyBaby: omg my two fave streamers are talking i’m dying
BallsOfAyor: Dude stop acting like she knows shit about this game, I saw her channel and it’s all gay shit
AkilaCowgirl: He smiles every time he says Oddly! I totally ship it <3
All of that, he seems to ignore. I’m sort of okay with that, though, since he’s no longer ignoring me.
I have a couple of hours between our streams to get in a bit more SOA4 time, though Damien and I are both past the tutorial level and have gone off in different directions, based on what we thought each of our characters would do.
So we haven’t been chatting as much, since he is very opposed to spoilers.
At least, we’ve not been chatting much about the game.
“I haven’t decided what I want to stream tonight,” I tell him as I work my way through one of the low level dungeons. My strategy of sending two of my bulkier companions—tanks, as Damien calls them—into battle ahead of me seems to be working well so far.
“You know I’m always a fan of Cloud Quest,” he says, and I can hear his mouse and keyboard clicking and clacking away as he charges through whatever dungeon he’s in now.
(I’m tempted to tell him to replace his goddamn stabilizers because the space bar is driving me insane, but he sounds a little preoccupied at the moment.)
His strategy has been to keep a couple of ranged companions behind him while he barrels ahead with Gustav as his so-called tank. And based on the swearing every three seconds, I don’t think using a Rakehell character as a tank is going great.
“Although Steampunk was cool the other day,” he adds in between more bouts of cursing. “I didn’t know that game could be so chill. Minus the ripping a guy’s head off part.”
“There are a lot of cozy bits in fantasy and sci-fi games, if you’re willing to slow down and look for them,” I tell him. “I could easily do a cozy stream of Stones 3, even. Just load up on Invisibility scrolls and wander through Evernight Forest at sundown, or something like that.”
“You totally should,” he says eagerly. “Do you have a character levelled enough in Stealth to go through undetected?”
“I mean, maybe…” I say, stopping to consider it. “Some of the Forest Guardians might be hard to sneak past, but I could possibly distract them with something.”
“Send Hadley in to draw their fire and then run like hell the other way,” Damien says with a laugh.
“I’m not doing that to Hadley. He’s my husband,” I say jokingly. “And I don’t just mean in the game.”
“No, I know you have a life-size body pillow of him that you cuddle every night.”
“And you wouldn’t?”
“Oh, I definitely would,” he says, and I laugh too. “I think Elliot would probably steal it, though.”
“Who’s Elliot?”
“Oh, right, sorry. Elliot and Nathan are my other roommates,” he clarifies. Followed by more swearing. “Uh, yeah. The two of them are a couple, while Malcolm and I just share a room. With bunk beds.”
“Noted.”
“Anyway, Elliot’s seen me play SOA3 sometimes and he has a thing for Hadley, because don’t we all.”
“Of course.”
“But he’s never actually played the game.”
“Blasphemy,” I say, and Damien laughs again.
“None of them play video games all that much anymore, honestly,” he says. “But they let me keep all my shit out here in the living room, so that’s cool.”
“All your shit?”
“Computer desk, PS5, Switch—I even have a refurbished N64 with an adapter that I can use on the TV when I want to break out the vintage stuff.”
“My mom would kill you for calling N64 vintage. Though I am admittedly jealous. I haven’t played Mario on N64 since I was a little kid.”
“I have Super Mario 64 here, actually,” he says. “If you ever wanted to come over and play it.”
“Yeah?” I’m hesitant despite my excitement at the idea of reliving some of my childhood favourites. But going to Damien’s (smelly, cramped, roommate-filled) apartment seems like a bad idea. I mean I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t try to murder me, but is it worth the risk?
“You live above your mom’s shop, right?” he asks, and for a second I think I should deny it and move to another country, just to be safe, but then he adds, “I think you mentioned that the other night when we were chatting.”
“Oh, yeah.” Apparently, I gave him that information. Whoops.
“I have to go drop something off in the neighbourhood tomorrow afternoon,” he continues. “I could swing past and get you and we could take the streetcar back here? If you want, I mean.”
“What about your stream?”
“I’d have a few hours to spare before my stream.”
I want to ask what his girlfriend would think of him inviting me over, but I worry that might make it seem like I think this whole thing is something that it’s not. Which I don’t. We’re friends. Maybe.
I don’t actually know when that label applies, officially. Is it something I just decide? Can I unilaterally do that? It’s sort of what Victory did when we started university; she just decided we would be friends and then told me, and I was on board. Could it really be that simple?
Maybe all it takes is me just saying yes to this sort of thing. Maybe it doesn’t need to be a big deal.
“Yeah, okay,” I tell him.
“Cool,” he says, though he sounds somewhat distracted. Probably in a boss fight, considering the way his cursing intensifies moments later. “Gustav is letting me down, Audrey. Can you believe it?”
“Never trust a man with a moustache.”