Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Cat
Dear Ms. Li,
Please find attached Sentinel’s character synopsis. Ms. Zhang would like to see an outline by next Monday.
Sincerely,
Carter Snook
Executive Assistant to Andi Zhang, Lead Writer sharing your fries when normally you’d set Cerberus to guard them; hiding all your weird in the hopes that by the time you’ve siren called your target to your lair, they’re too ensnared to leave.
The only problem is, every time I’ve entered the relationship stage of the game, I’ve gotten dumped. Which can only mean people don’t like me when I’m being honest. Translation: people don’t like me when I’m being me .
Still, I can’t just keep doing things I don’t want to. Gathering my courage, I grit out, “I should stay home, actually. There’s some work stuff I have to take care of.”
“Take care of it here,” Sally proposes. “As luck would have it, I also have a pile of reading to get done. I was just gonna multitask.”
“While watching TV?” I ask. And hanging out with me? I mentally tack on.
“Yeah,” she says, unbothered. “Come over. Bring your laptop. We’ll keep each other accountable.”
I check the time. There’s no doubt I’ll be more productive at home without Netflix playing in the background, but the character in my head who’s been calling the shots around Sally is urging me to go. This is how you woo them , they’re saying. This is how you get the kind of relationship where you know each other’s underwear size—not because it’s kinky but because you do your laundry together. The kind where you finish each other’s sentences and bicker over what flavor of seltzer water to get. The kind where you’re not embarrassed to put your mouth guard in at night.
The kind your parents and sister would approve of.
My throat constricts as I hear myself say, “Okay. Be there soon.”
Apparently, when Sally says “company,” she means platonic, chemistryless, literal-interpretation-of-the-phrase-Netflix-and-chill company.
Unfortunately, I don’t figure this out until well into our evening. After we decide on what show to watch (a suburban Pennsylvania crime drama), we settle down on opposite ends of Sally’s white three-cushion couch. During episode one, Sally successfully juggles keeping one eye on the TV and the other on her iPad of M&A contracts. I’m more distracted, asking myself inane questions like Are we going to kiss? and Why don’t I want to when she’s so pretty??? I pass episode two surreptitiously stacking pillows between us. By episode three, I’m such a ball of anxiety that my brain shuts down and I fall asleep.
It goes without saying that I get nothing done.
I wake up the next morning determined to make tangible progress on the opportunity Andi’s extended me. After apologizing to Sally for conking out and maybe drooling on her couch, I drive back to my place, where I shower, change into my She Ra pajamas, and settle down at my desk for a “work from home” day.
I start by reading everything Carter’s sent me. I know Compass Hollow ’s basic premise based on the snippet Andi had me print out and the codex entries I’ve been drafting, but there’s a wealth of information in the several-hundred-page doc Carter’s attached. Sentinel, the hero of the game, is the last of the Order of Watchers—an order which for several millennia has stood guard over the Tomb of Karth and the fell dragon Karthska housed within. The Order has frayed in recent years due to the political expediency of eroding its upkeep. As a result, all its members have either moved on or shuffled off to another plane of existence.
All except Sentinel, that is. Now that Karthska is stirring once more, Sentinel (they/she/he, depending on what the player chooses to play as) must travel the world, replenishing the Order’s ranks with a Ranger, a Spyglass, a Keeper, and a Warden. Only with the Order restored can the Power of the Vigil take root and strengthen the wards on the Tomb of Karth, sending Karthska back to sleep for yet another millennium.
I lean back in my chair, underwhelmed. This is what the great Andi “Andz” Zhang has spent two years pulling out of her gilded ass? I’d expected more behind the curtain. The plot’s as old as storytelling itself: hero goes on an adventure collecting allies like they’re Pok é mon to stave off the end of the world. Big whoop.
There’s beauty to be found in the flawless execution of even a tired plot, I remind myself. The relationships Sentinel forges between themself and their companions will be what brings the entire game to life. Which is exactly where I hope to come in.
So: four main party members—Ranger, Spyglass, Keeper, and Warden—and four optional. That gives me eight potential romance options, not including any intraparty romances that could trigger if, for instance, the player decides not to have Sentinel go after anyone. (After all, Philo loved the scene I wrote between Evaralin, the tsundere half-elf Ranger, and Catha, the insecure elf Keeper.) Despite my bragging to Andi last week, it’s a lot to wrap my head around, so I scan down the list for an easy target to start with.
Out of nowhere, Stray brushes up against my ankle. I jump, then pick her up before she demands attention in a more toothy fashion. “What do you think?”
She swivels her tiny head around as if surveying the lines on my laptop. Meowing once, she flicks her tail at the last name on the list: Kelsi, the bold human Warden. With her strawberry-blonde hair, blue eyes, and sun-colored armor, Kelsi is part Joan of Arc and part Samus Aran. She’s a classic heartthrob for the straight male gamer who fancies himself a feminist. And—I squint at her character notes—she’s a warrior, brusque and practical, with a weakness for poetry. She reminds me of Sally a little.
“You’ll do,” I say, grinning.