Hacking the Myriad Online Game Guide
"I regret my arrogance," Grey uttered, exhaustion evident in his voice as he stared at his monitors with bloodshot eyes, resembling a zombie. "This guy must be a sysadmin by day and a dark net criminal by night. I don't have the slightest thing on the guy."
The glaring red numbers on his alarm clock read 4:47 am, a harsh reminder of his futile all-nighter. While a normal teenager's desk might be littered with snack wrappers and empty energy drink cans, his workspace only had a full glass of water that he sipped sparingly.
As Casper was a fictitious persona, Grey's only lead was an email address. Despite employing Maltego, Palantir, and other intelligence-gathering tools, he had only uncovered the website hosting the email and the email of the person who had registered the domain.
Greg@nextgendegen.com
Although the website appeared to be a relic from the nineties, it was armed with state-of-the-art technology. Grey had tried everything – Burp Suite, fuzzing tools, vulnerability scanners, cross-site script injections – but came up empty-handed.
The website was a troll.
Out of options, Grey resorted to spear-phishing, spoofing his email as security@nextgendegen.dev and requesting Greg's login details to conduct a remote security review.
To his utter lack of surprise, Greg readily gave him everything without question. Woo. He could hear Casper taunting him: "I made you beg for it, Mr. Grey. Hahaha!" It was infuriating.
However, Greg had no authorized access, so he got a key to a house with every room locked. After deploying the entire Metasploit Pro database of applicable malware, he only got an encrypted password.
Grey slammed his keyboard with watery eyes. "This is miserable." he groaned, watching his listeners blinking lifelessly. He opened Razz – the top social media platform – to kill time.
"Myriad Online, Myriad, Myriad, Myriad," he chuckled, seeing the posts, "I can't go five seconds without being reminded of it. Though, I suppose I'd be talking about it if I could. It's not what I imagined."
Myriad Online was a groundbreaking all-immersive MMORPG galaxy indistinguishable from reality. Players could enjoy food, feel sensations, and even engage in sexual experiences.
The starting planet, Ryker, was eight times the size of Earth, featuring 43 continents, 57,991 languages, and cultures as rich as those in the real world. It was also strikingly similar, with the eight starting zones sharing Earth's basic technology, weapons, and cultures, albeit slightly more advanced.
Three aspects set Myriad Online apart from reality. First, the game was intergalactic, connecting 2,331 habitable planets via wormholes. Given the game's vast scope, trillions of lifeforms existed, coincidentally giving rise to every conceivable fantasy race – and countless others.
Second, it featured magic—or esper—a key factor in its popularity.
Lastly, it had gods. Grey's research into the game revealed that the objective of Myriad Online was to ascend through thirteen stages of divinity, become a demigod, and ultimately ascend to Lower Myriad.
"To think I started where the game ended," Grey smirked. It amused him that he had essentially walked up to the strongest streamer in gaming history and kicked them in the balls. But his enthusiasm faded almost immediately when he remembered how tired he was. "Even if it's only an hour, I need to sleep."
The teen stood up to switch off his computer but halted when he noticed that John the Ripper – a password hash cracker – had successfully decrypted the admin's password.
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GHoSt@IntheWires~# [+] Password Found!
Password: CouncilOfTheLostGods
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Grey remained frozen, a mixture of fear and disbelief washing over him. "I almost wish I hadn't found anything," he mumbled. "This guy's a top-tier professional."
Days ago, the teen had been confident that he could infiltrate Casper's server with complete anonymity. The following day, he was certain he could play Casper's game. Now, he was convinced he had only gained access because Casper allowed it.
"At most, I could be charged with a misdemeanor for Unauthorized Access to a Computer System," Grey reasoned. "I'm 17, so that'll be sealed this year. If it doesn't, well… it'll enhance my resume," he chuckled sarcastically.
The teen took a deep breath and shelled into the computer, taking full remote control.
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ssh admin@185.52.53.222 –p7654
admin@185.52.53.222's password: ********************
…
root@admin:~#
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"Pwned," Grey chuckled, "Yeah, right. There's no way I'm transferring anything from this honeypot." Resolved not to cause legal trouble, he explored the system without automated software, browsing aimlessly until he spotted a file that sent shivers down his spine.
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Confidential - Official Myriad Online Storyline and Finance Testing Guide.docx
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Grey swallowed hard, staring at the guide. If it contained what it claimed, it was a cheat sheet for quests, character development, and financial information!
"He'll know I accessed it," he grimaced, "But I can commit the guide to memory when it takes an average person to read two pages. Let's do this."
He opened the file and rapidly memorized eight pages per second as he flipped through the two-thousand-page game guide.
Four minutes later, he closed the file, opened a text document, and typed a message.
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"You're an asshole."
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Grey chuckled as he saved the file to his desktop, ending the session. "Let's see how good you really—" His words were cut off when a chat window opened on his screen, typing itself live. He quickly placed his fingers on the keyboard.
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Casper: You called?
GrayHack: Yeah. I fixed your little person issue. Do I get a prize?
Casper: Are your healed organs not enough?
GrayHack: I don't accept things I earned fixing other people's problems.
Casper: Then what do you want?
GrayHack: To know what you want from me.
Casper: I don't want anything from you. I'm merely a representative.
GrayHack: Of who?
Casper: A powerful patron who's interested in you.
GrayHack: What do they want from me?
Casper: He wants you to play Myriad Online.
GrayHack: If you've been watching me, you know I can't play your game.
Casper: My patron is of a different caliber than your syndicate members. We can help you play without restrictions to earn money to pay off your contract. Do you accept?
GrayHack: That sounds nice, but I have earning restrictions.
Casper: We'll change that. Do you accept?
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Grey swallowed hard, staring at the screen as if in a trance. The teen positioned his fingers on the keyboard, but the sound of someone coming down the stairs sent him into a panic. He hastily tapped a few keys with his fingers misplaced, praying that he had typed "yes" and hit [enter].
As if on cue, a ringtone echoed through the hallway.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The teen jolted as someone pounded on his door frantically, their voice filled with panic. "Alyx! Get your ass out of bed!" Maxwell yelled, prompting Grey to glance at his alarm clock.
5:57 am.
Grey felt aggressively perplexed. His alarm hadn't gone off, and Maxwell acted as if he were late. Why?
"This is ridiculous!" Maxwell shouted, met only with silence. "I'm coming in!" The man burst into the room, his bloodshot eyes revealing exhaustion, wearing a half-tucked dress shirt and slacks.
"What's the issue, Maxwell?" Grey asked calmly, concealing his racing pulse.
"I'm not sure what the fuck you did, but the don wants to see us," Maxwell snarled. "Now put your good clothes on and get your head straight. Keep your mouth shut unless spoken to; speak with [prudence] if asked to speak."
"Understood," Grey replied.
Maxwell studied the teen's face with narrowed eyes. The glare was piercing, searching for guilt or a sign. However, Grey's expression told him nothing; the teen was an enigmatic statue.
"Don't forget a blood contract is law to Lycans," he warned. "No matter how smart or valuable you are, I own you, and no one can do anything about that. Do you understand?"
"You've never let me forget," Grey replied with a humorless expression.
An icy chill crawled down the man's spine. Nothing in the teen's voice made him feel dread; it was what it lacked—anxiety. It was devoid of doubt, as if he could face the don without worry.
"That's good," Maxwell said hesitantly. "Now get dressed. You have five minutes – we will not make the don wait."