The Hub, while populated with millions of NPCs, allowed every one of them have a life that started with a script and usually stuck to it. There were times, due to the dynamic nature of the digital realm, when a certain interaction with a user-based circumstance changes one of their kind in a way that seldom requires patching. It was a major part of what kept the world evolving in a way that a living, breathing team could never replicate. It was well-known that these sequences were generated by a triad of all-knowing, all-seeing, albeit ‘primordial’ algorithms which forever crunched the numbers. Each represented respective zones and presented both user and NPC with lives to live.

One such NPC, a paragon of automation known especially throughout the Sky Zone, held the bizarre name of Zesty Morgan. Exceptionally tall, she first began life inside the Hub as an alien hybrid connected to an event storyline from over a decade ago. Through an instance she lived through thousands of times, her questline began with a crippled ship limping into a hangar at the remote Sagitarr station at the edge of the Sky Zone, where, for now, there was only deep space beyond. On board was just over a thousand refugees fleeing an oppressive species from parts unknown. All this as a setup to introduce a new moon orbiting New Martia as well as an asteroid belt rife with resources and a new foe with new dungeons.

Morgan was born of a slave father and slaver mother, both lost in the escape to get her on the ship with the rest of her kind. But there were none of her kind. As with most tales of hybrids, she was shunned by the majority of those she fled with. In exchange, she benefitted from a hybrid vigour that was unique inside the Hub, save for a few instances behind enemy lines. Her genetic composition wove one parent’s culture of light-hearted pacifism with the other’s lust for battle and improvement into a font of energy without a shred of care – as some would call, Zest!  She was a recruitable quest-giver who could join in on the final assault against her oppressors.

As with many quest-exclusive NPCs, Morgan joined a pool of bots that could be recruited and she fought many battles while the event heralding her introduction was held. Once the next update was released, she was free to explore her scripted life as a salvager, striving for new parts for the only weapon she ever used, her battle-suit. There was a moderate satisfaction in fulfilling the function, until she was recruited by a user who changed her life forever. The corrosion-based saboteur known as Indreas coerced her into breaking her scripting several times as he showed her parts of the Hub she’d never bothered to ponder. This was no regular user. There was something to him that made her feel more aware of the worlds they walked. The more he spoke to her as a living, breathing thing, the more she became one.

When the developers decided it had been long enough since her content’s introduction, the new NPCs were fully integrated into everyday happenings. Morgan was no longer bound to heed the call of her questline, leaving her to establish a life beyond what was written for her. To satisfy both her nature and her nurture, she continued to join raids, at her own discretion, in search of anything that would make her the best. Her levels had climbed since the epiphany and her battle-suit was a sight captured often by streamers who went live when she hit the battlefield. Inside the Realm, she was a respected and capable hammer-wielder, in the Nation, an explosive arms specialist. No matter where she put her heavy feet, Zesty Morgan was a heavy unit, and loved it as life.

Most recently, she’d been tracking an outbreak of anomalies, not out of concern, but for opportunity. Unique loot was being dropped by new beasts being born through a disturbing amalgamation process. Most observers dismissed the phenomena as dynamic content, although some forums were concerned, while the developers were silent on the matter. The latter was what gave Morgan a renewed thirst for the hunt. A creature made fresh from four bosses on Juno-3 currently tunneled through a ravaged skybridge towards an ongoing raid.

Alternately, her sensors picked up an energy reading she’d not seen in years. The one who touched her, who gave her the awakening that put her apart from the rest, was near, but it was not Indreas. The signature was on a head-on collision with the amalgamated monster, so Morgan knew where she needed to be. Her battle-suit, a juggernaut of hardware waited in the bay just behind the cockpit in her ship. As always when not piloting it, the vessel sat open wide, closing around her as she leaned into it. From there, it configured into the shape of a torpedo as it was loaded into the cannon. Her target had broken through the skybridge to engage the invaders and currently fired a beam at the user she had a vested interest in.

From her cannon, she was moving fast across the gap between her ship and the boss. Her suit reverted form so she could both slow down and ready herself for first impact. Galaxias, a two-handed, star-metal fusion hammer with an anti-matter core. The haft was made of infinitely compressed material fished from a black hole singularity, unbreakable yet unbeatable at breaking everything from armour to bone. On the face of the head were a quartet of missile bays, which launched at her leisure with the pull of a trigger near the pommel. Zesty Morgan fired one shot for each head, using the momentum of the explosion to power her next swing. The destruction of all the heads left very little fight in the boss before it dropped.

She joined them in fending off the remainder of the horde before everyone marveled over the strange loot dropped by the slain amalgam. Strange combinations of properties never seen before opened up new avenues to builds that would shake the meta. Phage took note of a retinal implant that buffed skills from differing zones, meaning these items were intended to be used in the Spire, where there were no restrictions on skill access. That, or the Hub was changing in ways more ways than she knew already. Most of the other players had moved on, leaving their instance with a timer counting down the time until the event refreshed, likely without the boss dead at their feet.

“Up close, I know who you are now,” She said to Phage as the helmet opened to reveal her bluish-green face with black eyes and white pupils, “What you are, now, that is a question I’d like the answer to.”

“Get in line,” Phage smirked, “Or, if you’d prefer, you can cut to the front of it.”

She stood Galaxias on its end and leaned on the imposing head, “I’m listening.”

“I want to lead a run for the Spire.” She said outright, “The Blackest Knight is on sabbatical, so if we beat whatever is in it’s place, I’ll give you the answer to that question.”

She gestured towards the rapidly decaying monster before them, “This monster used to be four separate bosses who either chose to become this… or were forced into it.” A rare expression of concern crossed her face, “I know the Hub is changing – many of us feel it and are becoming more because of it. But a fate like this, it’s worse than death, to me at least. We all know the Spire is the source, one only has to look at it to feel the pull, so yeah,” She said, taking up her hammer, “For that reason among others, I’m in.”

“Good.” Phage was satisfied, “I’ve got this kid I’m going to set up to lead the raid since we’re just ‘dumb bots’ after all,” They shared a grin, “The others will take some time to rally, but I have a dream-team that I think can do it no matter what they throw at us.” She eyed the strange loot poached from the amalgam, “In the meantime, I’ll send some minions out to farm these for us. Clearly, they’ll be useful.”

“I tracked that boss for that specific reason,” Morgan told her, “When I’m not hunting, I’m tuning my builds with these finds.” Phage was contemplative; not only were the monsters changing, so were the countermeasures. With her unique ability to use any skill regardless of zone, she found herself lost in thought, “The last time I was at the Spire was the day you died and the day Sol changed,” Morgan snapped her to as she continued, “I didn’t know it yet, but now that things have begun to grow more… complex, I realize when I think back to it what I felt on the other side of that door. That presence….” She struggled to define what she felt, “Well, it reminded me a lot of you, to be honest.”

“There’s a big difference.” Phage insisted. After fast-traveling to Morgan’s ship, she began laying the groundwork for the raid. From there they flew to a distant sector where there was chatter regarding another sighted amalgam. In transit, replies were coming in from the unscrupulous players on her shortlist. Some of them were also farming the exotic items produced by the Hub’s apparent schism and waiting for the right invite to strike at the source. Morgan docked her ship at the remains of a landing platform where another group was already engaged in battle that was heading towards their target.

“Ready to go crazy?” Morgan asked after they touched down from the ship’s loading ramp. She was bouncing with excitement, extra so since the anomaly promised a new boss and new loot. Crazy was the plan. Phage’s user hadn’t been in contact with Zesty Morgan since Indreas was reborn, if only to keep her cover. The alien berserker made every raid more fun with not just her attitude, but her overly violent playstyle. Phage was just about to reply when her whole body shuddered as she was overcome by a crippling wave of nausea. Instead of speaking she doubled over to vomit and dropped to her knees next to the mess. Morgan rushed to help her up, using her array of implants and sensors to scan for the problem, “Ohhh well, we’ve been busy with this new body!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Her throat was ravaged and her voice raspy,

“So, you don’t know yet??” Morgan recoiled as she shared the results of her scan, “Phage… you’re pregnant!”

Continue to Post game + Part 6-3: Panjandrum