Pete nodded, stepping into the Winnebago and looking around inside. Grizzle and Torgo were huddled together sitting on the small couch with one of their scripture books laid out on the table. Grizzle was reading in hushed tones while Torgo looked on, seemingly calmed by the religious text.
The interior of the RV was modestly sized but clean and well-maintained. There was a basic kitchenette, a bunch of storage options, a central compartment with a toilet on one side and a shower on the other, and a double bed at the far end of the unit with a smaller bunk up top.
A small television screen was sitting on a metallic arm in one corner of the main area, but instead of a new show or regular programming, a goblin with bright blue skin was staring out of the screen, gesticulating wildly as he spoke. Pete noticed that there was a small green box on top of the screen that looked like it was made of the same translucent substance as the shields covering all the human houses. It looked like an old-school TV antenna with two small bunny ears-style antennae sticking up from the top and a slowly turning satellite dish on the end of each.
“What the hell is that?” Pete said, pointing at the little mechanical object.
Craig turned to face the TV, still eating his banana. He shrugged. “Main game feed. I think it’s a panel show, but I’m not sure which one.”
“No, not the show, that little box on top of the monitor.”
[Nero] Ah, yes I should explain. As part of the Mammon System Game Protocol, all standard televisual devices planet-wide have been fitted with a Dominion Ultrimax feed filter. Provided they have a power source, they will show a range of different feeds from the contest for the duration of the game itself.
Pete frowned up at the screen as the animated goblin continued to gesticulate, speaking at a rapid pace as various emoji-style symbols appeared around the screen in response to his words.
“Where’s the controller?” Pete asked, looking around the room.
Coop jumped up onto the small table and pointed a paw towards the black remote, which was sitting just beside Grizzle’s religious text. Pete picked it up and tried to adjust the volume, with predictable results.
>> DOMINION ULTRIMAX FEED ACCESS REQUEST
Welcome, friend, to the very best in Dominion Ultrimax viewing! For the low, low sum of just 200 Belch Bucks, you’ll unlock over thirty channels devoted to this season’s contest, as well as basic betting functionality and access to green-level emoji farms and chat rooms.
The image on the screen had frozen, and a golden padlock with a Belch Buck turning in front of it had appeared.
Pete rolled his eyes. “Sam, did you hear that?”
“Yeah, there’s a little screen up front too. I figure it’s showing the same thing as the one back there. Just pay the money. Might as well see what the feeds are saying. They might even have something in there about us. Here, I’ll loan you the cash, poor boy!”
Two hundred Belch Bucks landed in his wallet via the Coinlink system, and he unlocked the feed. The moment the money was deposited, the padlock vanished and sound began to pour into the cabin. The previous show seemed to have gone to an ad break as the black screen was interrupted by a shower of golden sparks and the clatter of coins falling from above. A triumphant brass fanfare blared, partially off-key but impossibly proud of itself.
“The Tongsly Belch Corporation is proud to present a once-in-a-lifetime offer.”
The narrator spoke with a deep baritone that was smooth as silk.
“Any viewers currently active in any approved Dominion Ultrimax feed can now purchase the Titanium Level Ultrimax Booster Pack at a tremendous discount!”
A goblin female in a skimpy bikini strutted onto the stage, her face split by a wide smile. She held an oversized box wrapped in fake gold leaf above her head, swaying her hips like a ring girl at a boxing match. Except there was no boxing match. There was nothing except the black void and the skimpily dressed goblin holding that box.
It was about the size of a shoebox and seemed to sparkle and shine as though it had its own light source. There was also a golden image of Tongsly Belch embossed on the front of the object, with the words ‘Ultrimax Booster Pack’ written beneath the face in curved writing. Above the image of the goblin’s face was the word TITANIUM written in metallic block letters.
“Normally, a Titanium Level Booster Pack would set you back a whopping nineteen hundred Belch Bucks! That’s right—one-nine-zero-zero!”
The goblin female bent down and placed the box on top of a small pedestal that rose up from the floor. A second figure walked out onto the stage: a male goblin dressed in a tuxedo with a sparkling black jacket that glistened with sequins. He held a portable microphone in his right hand and wore thick black glasses that made his eyes bulge as he walked up behind the pedestal.
“But wait! For a strictly limited time, viewers at home can score themselves a Titanium Level Booster Pack for the low, low price of just nineteen ninety-nine! That’s right, folks. This isn’t a joke. Nineteen ninety-nine!”
The camera zoomed in, focusing on the goblin as he shook his head in mock disbelief. “That’s right—nineteen coins, ninety-nine crumbs! Practically free! Practically robbery—of you, by us!”
He held his free hand over the top of the box and clicked his fingers. The moment he did so, the box miraculously opened, with confetti flying in all directions along with vivid sparks of light and the sound of dozens of whistling fireworks. Several smaller packs emerged from the main box, floating in the air in front of the tuxedo-wearing goblin.
They looked, to Pete, like Magic: The Gathering style card packs, and he found himself wondering whether the Mammon System had borrowed from human culture to design the packs or if they’d been like this in previous seasons. Each of the smaller packs was roughly card-shaped and brightly colored, with vivid red and white, pink, green, and even one pack that was a glossy black with a white question mark at its center.
“Inside every pack lay the treasures of destiny: multipliers, jackpots, wild wagers, and maybe—just maybe—the catastrophic Bankrupt Bomb! That’s right, folks, a chance to win big and temporarily bankrupt a friend, enemy, or family member. You’ll be the hit of any party when you let that little beauty rip!”
The card packs all began to spin in the air, auras of light surrounding each of them as the goblin presenter lightly tapped the top of each pack.
“Now these are limited edition, folks, and they’ll only be available until the Novice Arena opens, so charge up your credit cards and snap up some of these limited edition Titanium Level UltrimaxBooster Packs before they’re all gone!”
The camera panned back, showing the presenter and the ring girl standing side by side and smiling as a string of small print text ran across the bottom of the screen.
>> The Titanium Level Ultrimax Booster Pack is a randomized product. Tongsly Belch Corporation makes no guarantee, promise, or even polite suggestion as to which individual packs, multipliers, jackpots, wagers, or catastrophic Bankrupt Bombs may be included in each pack. Odds of obtaining any particular pack are unknowable, unfathomable, and quite frankly, none of your business. A total of one point three billion Titanium Level Ultrimax Booster Packs are available at the discounted price of nineteen ninety-nine. Limit one thousand packs per customer or ten thousand packs per household, goblin clan, or familial unit. This discounted product is not for sale within Dominion worlds and adjacent dimensions where Belch Bucks are not the official currency.
Pete frowned up at the screen, shaking his head in disbelief. The RV lurched to the left sharply, and he reached out to steady himself on a nearby kitchen cabinet.
“Shit! Sorry about that,” Sam said. “Something just shot out from the side of the road. Some kind of weird animal. I think it was another one of those twisted creature things, like that wolf creature.”
[Nero] Warpspawn. Yes, I believe you are right. Though this was not originally a Kalic Warg but some kind of cat-like creature blended with several aquatic species.
“Yeah, well it left a streak of slime behind it. Slippery shit, but I managed to keep control of the truck.”
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
Before Pete could reply, another ad showed on the feed screen. The monitor displayed something green and pink and utterly perplexing, accompanied by a resounding scream that was so high-pitched it made Pete recoil, slamming his hands against his ears while the goblins in the cabin all buckled over, fists balled up and jammed into their ear canals as the camera panned out. The strange sign resolved into the inside of a large mouth, which, in turn, expanded to show a screaming goblin, eyes tearing with effort as it bellowed.
Just as it reached an unbearable pitch, the screaming suddenly stopped. The screeching goblin vanished, and a single spotlight fell on a black crystal cube, pulsing faintly like a heartbeat.
“The Tongsly Belch Corporation proudly presented The Screambox! A multi-functional, multi-dimensional insulation device developed by those swollen-headed lab coat-wearing mad scientists at the Tongsly Belch Wealth Sciences Institute. Why shout at your feed screen when you can pay us to do it for you?”
A male goblin in a gold-lamé tracksuit and golden sneakers came into view, running from one side of the screen up to the cube and picking it up in one hand. He pressed his face against it and bellowed, “YOU’RE A USELESS NOOB!”
The box pulsed, and the view shifted to an ordinary suburban street where a very ordinary-looking human man was fighting against several spear-wielding goblins just like the ones Pete had faced when he first joined the contest. While the human was fending off a thrust from one of the goblin spears, the words that had been shouted into the Screambox blasted out into the air around him.
>> YOU’RE A USELESS NOOB!
The man stumbled, momentarily shocked by the blasting pronouncement. That was enough to give the second goblin his opportunity, and the little figure promptly shoved his spear through the man’s neck and out the other side. Blood sprayed, and the man staggered backward as the goblin ripped his spear free.
The screen shifted back to show the tracksuit-wearing goblin casually tossing the Screambox up in the air as the voiceover continued.
“Pester your pals, annoy your acquaintances, and, if you’re lucky and you’ve got the coin, you might even be able to directly insult players within the Dominion Ultrimax game itself!”
The goblin holding the box nodded as though he was genuinely surprised by the prospect.
“Normally, this beauty would cost you five thousand Belch Bucks! That’s right, five zero zero zero, just to scream yourself hoarse. But if you put in an order any time before the Novice Arenas in this year’s contest are unlocked, you’ll be able to pick up your very own Screambox for just three hundred and ninety-nine Belch Bucks! Now that’s an offer worth shouting about.”
The tracksuit-wearing goblin lifted up the box and screamed into it, but Pete couldn’t hear what was said. Then the goblin turned the Screambox around, and it sounded like the goblin was screaming directly behind his ear.
“BUY IT NOW, STUPID!”
An image of the box floated in the middle of the screen with silent images of hundreds of different alien species all screaming into their boxes with looks of absolute delight on their faces. The words BUY NOW were written to either side of the box, and there was a countdown clock showing just beneath it.
As with the previous ad, a disclaimer ran across the bottom of the screen.
>> The Screambox and all associated functions are powered by patented Tongsly Belch Scream-o-Matic technology. Any attempt to reverse-engineer, disassemble, modify, mimic, replicate, or otherwise tinker with the Screambox—including but not limited to licking, gnawing, or shouting into imitation devices—will result in immediate financial penalties, confiscation of assets, and possibly explosive retribution. Screambox access to the Dominion Ultrimax game is strictly limited to one in one million users; all others may experience delays, misfires, or the box screaming back at them without warning.
The Tongsly Belch Corporation accepts no liability for hearing loss, ruptured lungs, psychic feedback, third-degree humiliation, bodily dismemberment, accidental death, or voluntary use of the Screambox in any and all dimensions. By purchasing, screaming into, or even thinking too loudly about the Screambox, you agree to these terms in perpetuity, across all lifetimes, and in every conceivable reincarnation.
Pete frowned up at the screen, shaking his head in disbelief, his ears still ringing from the start of the ad. Craig and his goblin companions were rubbing their ears, clearly still suffering from the explosive burst of sound.
“This is just like normal daytime television,” Coop remarked, opening and closing her mouth as though trying to pop her ferret ears. “They’ll be adding in a set of free steak knives soon.”
“People actually buy this crap?” Pete asked.
[Nero] By the millions. Merchandising is the primary means through which the Tongsly Belch Corporation amasses wealth. The cost to unlock the feeds and participate in certain betting applications and contests provides only a fraction of the company’s annual funding requirements. Items such as those you have just seen make up the bulk of the profit the Tongsly Belch Corporation takes in.
Pete nodded, watching as the screen shifted to a dimly lit studio where a figure that looked like an old orc sat in a leather chair, surrounded by books in what looked like an old-school study or personal library.
“What about other corporations, though? I mean, doesn’t Tongsly Belch have any competition?”
[Nero] There are a few minor entities and concerns here and there, most of them restricted to local star systems, but the Tongsly Belch Corporation owns the Dominion Ultrimax Competition, and that is by far the most lucrative entity in existence. So much so that smaller corporations are happy to remove their own names and logos from their products and services simply to get a cut of the profits.
“How long are the ads gonna go on, anyway?” Pete asked.
“Not long,” Craig said, reaching for another banana from a small bowl of fruit sitting on a shelf behind him. “This is just an interlude from the main program, so there will only be three or four. Once the program has finished, though, they’ll start a block of advertising that will last several hours.”
“Hours?” Coop barked. “Who in their right mind would watch two hours of adverts?”
The little goblin shrugged. “When the Dominion Ultrimax contest is running, most citizens of the Dominion don’t really get a choice. Back in the mines, ads were showing most of the time, and we weren’t allowed to turn off any of the feed devices. None of us could afford to buy anything, so it never really made sense to me, but that’s just the way it is.”
On the screen, the orc leaned back in his chair, and Pete half expected him to open up a leather-bound book and start reading a fairytale. Instead, he simply grunted as the camera slowly moved in, providing a closer view of his chipped tusks, scarred features, and milky eyes. The camera crept closer as his gravelly voice filled the air.
“Hi friends,” he said, shoulders straightening a little as he spoke. “Morden Crave here, reminding you just how important it is to take out quality debtor’s insurance before it’s too late.”
The narrator’s voice took over, solemn but a little too excited to be profound.
“Morden Crave, Apex level gladiator, had once been a true contender in the Dominion Ultrimax Competition. He had stood tall, pockets full, future blazing. Then came the bad wagers, the unlucky rolls, the multipliers that cut him to ribbons and, of course, that ill-fated bout with the Gargantumax bot which ended it all.”
The Orc leaned forward, eyes suddenly intense. “One week I had it all. Next week? Nothing but debts, broken bones, and a goblin repo squad stripping the boots from my feet.” He shook his head, face lined with regret. “I survived, yes, but with nothing to show for it. I’d reached the very top of the mountain but stumbled and fell with nothing to catch me as I tumbled headlong from that proud peak.”
The orc nodded, scared lips twisting into a rueful smile.
“Don’t be like me. Protect what you have before it’s too late.”
A golden badge appeared next to the orc with the words IRONHIDE ASSURANCE written in block letters.
>> Safeguard your assets with Ironhide Assurance and bolster yourself against the whims of fate and fortune. Plans are available for all Dominion citizens with a range of options whether you’re a game NPC, a supply worker servicing the Dominion Ultrimax Competition, a guild gambler, or just a spectator.
Morden turned to face the insurance symbol and nodded before turning back to face the camera.
“For just forty-nine Belch Bucks a week, you can guarantee you’ll still have something left if the Dominion Ultrimax Contest chews you up and spits you out. Whether you’re betting on the action or you’re fighting tooth and nail to survive in the thick of the contest, don’t be like me. Don’t bet it all on a chance and risk losing everything. Get Ironhide Assurance and secure your future now.”
>> Ironhide Assurance is a wholly owned subsidiary of the Tongsly Belch Corporation. Coverage may not apply in cases of dragon immolation, sudden implosion, divine smiting, accidental self-looting, voluntary soul-selling, or curses of a financial nature. Policies are void if the claimant is eaten, exploded, telefragged, or erased from continuity by higher beings. Side effects of coverage may include smugness, survivor’s guilt, and mild bankruptcy. “Ironhide Assurance—we protect your money, not your life.”
The screen shifted once more, returning to the blue-skinned goblin that had been muted previously.
“Welcome back to The Coin Cam: Noob Confessions with your host Grizneck Nutsac!”
Pete frowned, turning to Coop as she snorted with laughter.
“We were just about to do a roundup of the contest so far,” Nutsac continued, “and a few items of note have come up. Firstly, the wolf man who styles himself Fenris and his female companion, Freya. They’ve killed six hooman players already and don’t look to be slowing down any time soon. As far as Reavers go, these two are the real deal.”
The screen showed a tall, well-built man with a woolen jacket and no shirt. He was holding what looked like a hobgoblin axe; only he was so big that it looked like the weapon was a normal size. He also wore a wolf pelt over one shoulder and sported a necklace with teeth on it.
Next to him stood a gaunt-faced woman dressed entirely in black, with black paint across her pale eyes and a pair of daggers in her hands, with some kind of magic swirling around them.
“Shit,” Pete said.
“Here’s hoping they’re nowhere near us,” Sam shouted from the front cabin.
“Nah, they’re not in the US,” Coop said. “They look Scandinavian. One of those socialist countries anyhow.”
“That would explain the name Fenris,” Pete offered.
“Then there are the Ninth Street Thugs,” Nutsac continued, grinning broadly. “I still don’t know how these guys managed to snag ten gauntlets between them, but somehow they did it, and the results speak for themselves.”
A group of rough-looking thugs appeared on screen, with lots of ink on their faces and wearing street clothes, with all kinds of guns and weapons strapped to their sides. Pete didn’t recognize the city in the background.
“There are the Razorback Sisters, of course,” the host continued, “and there’s one other noob of note that we need to talk about. This guy’s been making waves with his band of misfits and his ability to survive by the skin of his teeth in the most thrilling way possible.”
Pete felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.
“But this hooman has already distinguished himself for picking up a unique class,” Nutsac continued, “a class that none of us have heard of before and which no one can trace because whoever built the damned thing put in a privacy block that even the Mammon System can’t break. Not only that, but he also introduced us to the wonderful game of baseball!”
“Shit,” Pete muttered.
“That’s you!” Coop barked. “He’s talking about you!”
Sam laughed from the front of the RV while Craig and his goblin companions all turned to Pete.
“Shit,” he hissed again.