Young Writers Society

This is a first draft for a story I'm writing for a class. Tell me how it sounds so far.

The Universe had been created primarily as a means for inter-colonial gaming. The servers transmitted wavelengths consisted of particles charged up nearly two hundred times faster than the speed of light. That in itself was a feat, with obvious military applications, as well as possibilities in the fields of transportation as well as communication. The several hundred human worlds currently charted now had a way of connecting that the vast distances of the galaxy couldn’t hinder.

However, such connectivity meant that online crime had a stable base on which to operate. The game itself was fairly safe, certain protocols and remote watchers kept the worst out, but even those couldn’t stop such discreet criminal activity. Thusly, the Moderators Committee was established, given the authority to police The Universe and everyone that played it. When the player count exceeded several billion, the Committee was expanded to a military sized force, complete with Marine Regulars to provide “grunt duty”.

The Moderators were given the best equipment, technology on par with the day’s standards, unlike the sword-and-sorcery aspect of the game. While other players had to run around on foot or on horseback, the Moderators had shuttles, armored jeeps, and tanks. Where players had only swords, bows, and other such primitive weapons, Moderators wielded rifles, handguns, and heavier firepower. There had only been one large-scale player uprising, in which a large group of mid-level players tried to conquer a principle quest town. They lasted for ten minutes against a platoon of Marines, something that was in itself amazing.

Every day, players were reminded of the Moderators, watching warships cruise between server “planets” and meeting at the Moderator Headquarters on the nearest moon to Planet Twelve. The highest ranking Moderators were VirEx officials, overseeing the day to day activities of the game world, but most Moderators were players that had applied for ascension after years of dedicated subscription. Typically, they came across as do-gooders with Knight in Shining Armor complexes, always playing the part of the dashing hero coming to save the day.

To Carla Elder-Sanchez, known in-game as the Paladin class Shiva, nothing sounded sweeter as the Warrior class Juniper swung his heavy two-handed sword in her direction. When his stamina level was supposed decrease as per game rules, his strength level instead increased. It was all she could do to dodge his attacks that were carving huge gouges out of Planet Twelve. Trying to parry the blows would have been suicidal, though not in the literal sense; no one could actually die in The Universe, despite how real the implants made it feel.

“You’re breaking the rules,” Shiva announced as she rolled under a swipe. “You had better quit now, or the Mods will show up.”

“Like anyone gives a damn,” Juniper shot back. He was the local bully, and Shiva thought he would make an easy level up. She now knew why nobody challenged him. Shiva tried to jump upwards, struggling to make room for a transcendence spell. No luck. Juniper had her dead to rights.

“Looks like you eat your words, girlie,” he said, sneering over her. His sword was raised in an amateurish stance, but he didn’t need any skill with gear like that. “But don’t worry; you’ll get processed for revival in a few months.”

“Screw you,” she said flatly. Juniper grinned even wider, relishing the kill.

“I believe you are in blatant violation of the rules,” someone said. Before Juniper could react, his sword vanished. His gaze traced the ground back to the speaker. A Moderator.

“Thank God,” Shiva whispered.

“Illegal modification,” the Mod said, looking the blade over. In reality, he was examining the code behind the weapon, tracing the illegal add-ons. “That’s a good two months suspension.”

Shiva crawled to the side, poised to strike should Juniper react in a violent manner.

The Mod looked up, a slight grin on his face. “In fact, it looks like most of your armor is illegal, too.”

“C’mon, man,” Juniper pleaded. “Everyone upgrades their stats a little.”

“Not a plus three strength bonus, they don’t,” the Mod said, simply. He removed a pistol from a leather holster. “That’s a guaranteed account deletion.”

“No, you can’t,” Juniper whimpered. He jumped up suddenly, charging the Mod. Without flinching, the Mod fired a shot right into Juniper’s chest. A bit of blood spattered from the exit wound, shimmering then fading as the code was systematically deleted, removing the offending player.