Chapter 3
Deep within the bowels of WarpSoft’s German headquarters, a series of computer servers hummed silently in the darkness. Each server had its own main terminal computer attached, capable of monitoring trillions of coding lines per minute. The processing speed of each was a far cry from the ancient servers of the dot-com era. Each computer could run roughly two million programs at one time, something almost unheard of outside of WarpSoft and select government agencies. Drivers turned on and off at random, it seemed, though each driver had a specific job to do within the massive game. Some kept track of and monitored the players themselves, while others maintained the scenery, the animals within the game, and the weather patterns. Still others kept track of the nodes.
Nodes were secret upload ports available by chance within the game. If a player was lucky enough to find one, they could upload their own secret codes into the game and sell the codes from there, making money to assist with their gaming habits. If a player found two, they were extremely fortunate, and eventually, wealthy.
If a player sold their code from within The Warp via a node, other players could use that code, so long as they paid the creator for them. They weren’t allowed to turn around and sell it to others, since they didn’t control the code from the node. This helped prevent piracy from within The Warp. Any piracy that was caught was viciously prosecuted to the full extent of both German and American law.
A few rumors floated through the web about the secrets of Crisis. WarpSoft helped formulate some of these rumors, since rumors meant interested fans. Message boards worldwide were populated with schemes to beat the popular game; players offering to sell certain codes to newer players was one such system.
Internet auction houses were filled with cheap codes to bid on. Often sold for low amounts, occasionally a code appeared which would draw thousands of dollars in a massive bidding war. This, along with Crisis’ “unbeatable” label, drew players like flies. To maintain coherency due to the number of people playing, .exe codes floated randomly throughout the WarpSoft servers and computers. These codes also watched for new codes uploaded by players, in order to make certain they weren’t viruses that would hurt the game.
Now, though, a primary code scanner within The Warp ran into a new and unidentified code, which had been uploaded from a previously undiscovered node. It scanned the code for malicious viruses, discovered nothing, and paused for an eternity in computer time to decide what to do. It could erase the code, no questions asked. However, since it seemed harmless and didn’t appear to impinge upon the higher functions of the game, the scanner decided it’d allow the unidentified code to live. The primary function of the scanner was to ensure the quality of the game, and there existed the possibility this was a new code created by a player; the scanner knew a deletion could possibly ruin a game function, which violated its number one protocol. The scanner rumbled onward throughout the system, ensuring everything was working properly.
The unidentified code moved carefully throughout the servers, looking for its target computer. The code was in fact a virus, one so cleverly disguised even the most up-to-date command file fell victim to its apparent harmlessness. It’d been uploaded a while ago and was constantly modified by its creator until the time was right. The node from which it came would remain undiscovered until the next game reboot, when its location would be permanently erased.
The code paused briefly to orient itself. While its secondary programming told it to go forth and attach itself to the mainframe server network, the primary programming knew that course of action could possibly trigger an antivirus or, worse yet, a general detection and alarm. For what seemed like ages in processing time, it waited, thinking. Finally, it attached itself to its secondary target, the existing I/O ports which allowed general player access to The Warp.
Beefing up its memory space, the code snatched a stray bit of random code from another passing .exe file and added it to its own growing code. Its memory had doubled in the space of three thousandths of a second and was now waiting for the proper trigger. It morphed from a virus into something different, something which was theoretically impossible for the system to allow to remain. It knew the primary target would be along shortly; it didn’t have to wait long.
The Chaos code within the system was the one bit of code-work within The Warp that was totally unpredictable for both programmers and codes alike. Random possibilities based on the mathematical chaos theory propelled the code forward, always looking for a reaction to any action taken within the system. It oftentimes wreaked havoc upon unsuspecting coders and gamers alike, and it was the primary code within the game that controlled most of the non-player battles and random events. It also provided a secondary source of entertainment with Crisis: it played the role of Fate.
Now, though, it served a different purpose. It, too, noticed the unusual code and investigated. However, as it investigated, the unidentified code slowly began to suck memory from it as well, converting itself completely from a simple virus to a main .exe file, using the principles of the Chaos code to allow it to change aspects of the game. The Chaos code, running theories continuously as it was being drained of memory, found itself suddenly absorbed by the new virus. Instead of collapsing, however, it was duplicated within the virus file, and thus a new, controlled Chaos code was born. The original Chaos code was released and drifted off to other aspects of the game, unknowingly with less memory than before. It’d be weeks before it could recover fully and once again control the random factors within the game. It was, for all intents and purposes, useless for the time being.
The new, controlled Chaos code followed its secondary programming and began to run a new, smaller, updated version of itself for the servers to run. One by one, dozens of computers connected to the Crisis mainframe servers within The Warp began to upload the new version created by the Chaos code. This in itself was nothing new—even the WarpSoft staff expected random updates from the self-sustaining Chaos code. However, this newest update served a malicious purpose.
It paused briefly and looked for a certain file which had been uploaded months ago, a command/control file that theoretically would give the individual who controlled it the ability to control the new Chaos code. The virus found the command file rapidly enough, just where it was programmed to find it, and duplicated it five times in accordance with its programming. The unique password attached to each individual command file was known only to the person for whom it was intended, in order to prevent “white hacks” from the programmers at WarpSoft. In theory, this would keep each individual safer.
The code began locking down I/O ports and allowed only certain players in, while keeping others out. It scanned its surroundings once more and, satisfied, shifted to standby mode. The new virus’ mission was complete for the time being. One more act would trigger two additional responses and subsequent uploads. Now, nothing short of a miracle could save the fully-hacked system.
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