“We’re stuck.”
I look up from the cipher I was decoding to discover that the bus I’m on does indeed seem to be stuck halfway up a surprisingly steep hill in Austin, Texas. I’m supposed to be en route to a pre release party for Tabula Rasa at Richard Garriott’s estate, Britannia Manor. Instead, I’m sitting at a 45 degree angle, wondering if I’d be considered rude for asking if I could get out and walk. I don’t know it now, but this is just the latest in a series of strange events—some wonderful, some not--that will continue throughout the course of my evening.
Just an hour earlier, I had been in a hotel lobby with the 100 or so other guests invited to Garriott’s shindig, waiting to board one of two buses. As I tried to figure out the best way to attach my nametag to my shirt, a man of questionable sanity and hygiene thrust two pieces of paper into my hands before nervously skittering away. The first paper appeared to be the ravings of a madman, with scrawled notes and drawings covering every inch. A Tabula Rasa logo surrounded by a series of pictograms was all the second page had to offer. I recognized the symbols as Logos, the language Garriott created for Tabula Rasa and the source of your magical powers within the game. Looking back at the first page, I realized that what at first glance appeared to be random ravings was actually a cleverly presented key to unlocking the code. Smiling in appreciation at the theater of it all, I found my seat on the bus and started to puzzle out the message.
While we’re waiting for the last few stragglers to arrive, a woman with an NC Soft t-shirt announces that we’re all going to have to hand over our cell phones. Later in the evening, she explains, we’ll be visiting a construction site with live blasting caps, and cell phones would create a serious safety hazard. Her request was met with something akin to horror and her assurances that our phones would be perfectly safe and returned to us at the end of the evening fell on deaf ears. She passes out identification tags for us to attach to our phones, but nobody actually hands theirs over. It was both amusing and depressing to realize that not even the very real threat of being blown up is enough to persuade people to give up their Treos and Blackberries. With mutinous grumbling spreading through the aisles, we finally head out.
After just a few minutes on the road, our driver worriedly tells the NC Soft rep that we’re being pulled over. We find a spot on the shoulder and two Men in Black (right down to the sunglasses) board our bus. They have stony expressions on their faces and a picture of the madman from the lobby in their hands. Satisfied that none of us were hiding him under our seats, they left the bus and we continued on our way. Feeling like I’m on some kind of Universal Studios ride, I happily get back to work on the code, eagerly anticipating the Next Event. Which, unfortunately for me, is getting stuck halfway up a hill.
After taking several running starts and seriously shortening the life of the bus’s clutch, our driver finally manages to deposit us at the front gate of Britannia Manor. As we pour out of the vehicles and into the driveway, four NC Soft reps block the way, colorful bags in their hands. They’re not kidding about the cell phone thing, you see. One by one, we all drop our pound of technology flesh into one of the bags before heading to the front door, where Richard Garriott is waiting to welcome us to his home.
Richard Garriott’s mansion is what you would get if an 8-year old boy were to design his dream house. It has secret passages, it has crossbows, and it has a swimming pool that was made deep enough for you to safely jump into it from the second floor balcony. It has a fully functional observatory and several different suits of armor. In the hallway near the kitchen, a replica of Aragorn’s sword is mounted on the wall opposite a horn from a narwhal.
