Ant Clancy Games Detective Read online

  Contents

  About The Author

  Title Page

  Prologue – How, what, why?

  1 – Kismet Cosmos

  2 – The Biggest Fun

  3 – A Gift from Lance

  4 – The Rareio

  5 – Lonely

  6 – Theft

  7 – Slimy Confetti

  8 – Caught by a Dolphin

  9 – Wanna Play?

  10 – Frozen

  11 – Real Life

  12 – Investigators

  13 – Back in the Parkworld

  14 – Operation Wipeout

  15 – Battle

  16 – Rubie

  17 – The Celestial Seamstress

  18 – Three Kids

  19 – Detective Work

  20 – Kody’s Cache

  21 – The Stealth Ember

  22 – Kismet Heaven

  Copyright

  Ruth Morgan has written fiction, poetry and plays for children of all ages and scripts for animation and radio. She particularly enjoys writing the kind of stories she enjoyed reading as a child: adventure stories, ghost stories, strange tales and sci-fi. She lives in Penarth, South Wales in a family of enthusiastic gamers who also love real life adventures.

  Ant Clancy

  Games Detective

  Ruth Morgan

  Prologue

  How, what, why?

  How do you become a games detective? Why would you become a games detective? Most of all what IS a ‘games detective’??? LOL

  Ant was chatting online with one of his mates from school, who’d picked up an advertising card from the local games shop.

  Ant typed back:

  Mate, you know sometimes you’re playing a videogame and it gets glitchy or laggy, or you can’t get up to the next level and you don’t know why? Just bring your game round to my sister’s flat and I’ll sort it, np

  He couldn’t tell him the real reason for setting up the agency. He couldn’t give away his suspicions about a very famous games company, or the discovery he’d made in Jubilee Park. He couldn’t explain that he and his mates were looking for clues, waiting for Kody Crunch of Crunch Hut Games to make his next move.

  Why had Ant started the world’s first ever Games Detective Agency? Because the world needed one.

  1

  Kismet Cosmos

  Six months earlier

  Tarn’s arm muscles felt like they were going to snap. He stretched even further, ignoring the branch creaking beneath him. Below – more than three hundred deadly metres below – the sparkling Arkenbarc River thundered between huge jutting rocks. Ahead of him, just beyond his flexing fingers, the rubyate key glittered in the zephyrbird’s beak.

  Tarn pleaded with the bird, ‘Just this once. Please?’

  Didn’t he deserve a break? Not only had he solved the puzzle path in record time, he’d also sacrificed two of his favourite nordeaters to find this shortcut. Seeing those little fellas explode in the yatcha traps had been heartbreaking. But if he could claim the rubyate key, it would cut out days, maybe weeks of travelling.

  ‘Pradahl,’ yelled Tarn. ‘Quick, come and help!’

  Tarn’s dragon Pradahl came racing out of the bushes, with coalberry juice dripping down her chin. This was good. Coalberries were a magical item which could temporarily solidify her smoke, if she’d eaten enough of them. Tarn climbed down and pressed the shining scale in the middle of Pradahl’s chest to bring up her inventory. The coalberry icon said ‘5’, meaning Pradahl had eaten five berries, so the smoke would stay solid for five seconds. That should be just enough time. He moved Pradahl into position at the edge of the cliff.

  Tarn and Pradahl had been adventuring together for so long, they could almost read one another’s minds. She breathed out an arc of smoke which solidified into a bridge leading straight to the hovering zephyrbird. Tarn raced over it and grabbed hold of the key. But the pesky zephyrbird didn’t let go and Tarn had to pull with all his might. Any minute now the smoke bridge would dissolve. He had to hurry…

  ‘Is it what I think it is?’

  The voice broke Ant’s concentration and he let go of the key. His avatar, Tarn, stumbled sideways and tumbled off the bridge. Tarn plunged to his black-and-white death while the zephyrbird fluttered off into the clouds.

  No. What? No!

  Ant tried to keep a hold of his headset but it was wrenched off him. He blinked. He was back in reality, back in the overgrown Dell on a bright but chilly Saturday afternoon in January. Children were squealing in the adventure playground on the other side of the fence. Three figures stood over him.

  ‘Give it here!’ Ant yelled.

  Brushing the hair out of his eyes, he recognised his attackers and stopped. Ant was trembling with anger, but he forced his arms to his sides. He took a few deep breaths to steady himself and looked their leader straight in the eye.

  Griff Landsdowne held Ant’s headset just out of reach, like a smirking version of the zephyrbird. He laughed and the other two, Lyle and Boom, joined in as if they’d been waiting for his permission. They stared at the headset.

  ‘It is one, isn’t it?’ said Griff.

  ‘Is one what?’

  Ant had plenty of mates at school but Griff wasn’t one of them. He wasn’t scared of Griff, though. Just because Griff’s family were super rich, he acted like some kind of superior being. He had all the latest stuff, every new game or pair of trainers or footie strip, the minute it came out. That impressed idiots like Lyle and Boom but not Ant. Over the years, he had learned to just answer back and Griff would give up his mouthy overlord bullying pretty quickly. But right then, Ant was worried that if he tried to snatch back his headset, it might get broken, and he’d never get another.

  ‘Kismet Cosmos?’ Boom sounded baffled.

  Ant kept still, his expression neutral.

  ‘I think my grandad told me about Kismet Cosmos,’ Griff sneered. ‘Or was it my great-grandad? Honestly, where did you dig it up? Nobody plays this anymore. I don’t know anyone who’s played it, like ever.’

  ‘It’s dead, man. No one’s played it for thousands of years,’ Lyle added pityingly, shaking his head.

  Ant forced himself to smile as they passed the headset around.

  ‘You’ve got the gloves too?’ cried Griff, like some delighted antiques expert. ‘Let’s have a go if it’s so good. See what I’ve been missing.’ He held out his hand.

  Ant removed the haptic gloves, passing them to Griff like he didn’t care. He really wanted to grab his headset and run for home. Ant was a good runner. But if one of them did catch him and jump him, his kit could end up getting wrecked. Much as he hated it, this was the best way.

  Griff pulled on the gloves and crushed the heavy headset over his blond hair, which stood up in little gel peaks like a crown. He stood waiting for something to happen, tapping his foot impatiently. His eyes were hidden behind the headset’s visor but Ant could imagine their outraged expression. Who on earth would dare make Griff Landsdowne wait? Lyle and Boom sniggered, but when Griff turned towards them, they fell silent.

  ‘Start,’ ordered Griff. ‘Start playing, come on! What’s wrong with it?’

  ‘Erm … hardly going to be voice-controlled, is it?’ suggested Lyle. ‘Technology that old?’

  ‘Activate it, then!’ Griff turned towards Ant, even though he couldn’t see him, and flung up his arms in exasperation. He really did have the patience of a three-year-old. ‘Come on, Ant. Do I have to stand here all day?’

  ‘Millions of years ago, apes worked out how to use switches and humans were born,’ Ant muttered, reaching behind the headset. Griff flinched.

  While he pressed the on/off switch, Ant also turned a
dial, sending the game into energy-saving, ‘flat-map’, greyscale mode. Within seconds, Griff was killing himself laughing.

  ‘What can you see? What’s it like?’

  Lyle and Boom grabbed hold of Griff’s shoulders and shook him, but he was laughing too much to speak. Eventually he managed to say, ‘It’s pants! It really is … pants!’

  Despite this, Griff persevered. Ant could see how quickly he learned to move forwards and backwards by twitching his fingers. Then he began flicking his arms around stupidly, while guffawing his head off. Ant could imagine what he was doing.

  The flat-map mode had bounced Griff back to the very first planet in the game, Mantros, where he could do little more than run through the 2D woods, fire arrows and chase baby hommerabbits back to their burrows. On Mantros, he couldn’t access Pradahl the dragon, which was what Ant had wanted. In flat-map mode, Griff couldn’t harm the game or set back Ant’s progress. That was more important than their teasing. They’d tease him whatever.

  Lyle and Boom insisted on having a try and Ant had to put up with ten minutes of the three of them passing the game around and making fun. He sucked it all up. He had to.

  ‘Finished then?’ Ant held out his hand, as Griff finally removed the headset for the last time. ‘By the way, you messed up your lovely hair.’

  Griff frowned and shoved his hair back into place. He handed back the headset and gloves with his nose wrinkled and his little finger sticking out as though he couldn’t bear to touch them any longer. ‘This belongs in a museum, Ant. A museum of boredom. What’s the point?’

  ‘I like it.’ Ant shrugged.

  ‘But why?’ Griff looked genuinely puzzled. Then he lit up. ‘Soon as I turn twelve, I’m getting Ray-Chay. It comes out round about then. I literally cannot wait, guys.’

  Lyle and Boom stared at Griff, awestruck. A ‘Wow!’ escaped Boom’s lips.

  Ray-Chay was the new game that everyone was talking about. Race, Chase, Collect or Destroy was its full name, but everyone was already just calling it Ray-Chay, including its creator Kody Crunch. It was the first game to give its players a full-body experience in a virtual world. Ant had seen the advert: Kody Crunch leaping out of his neon-green convertible sports car, flashing his million-dollar grin, pointing a pair of finger pistols at the camera and yelling: ‘Ray-Chay’s going to change gaming forever. I mean FOREVER! Are you ready for the BIG ONE?’ Crunch Hut made the best virtual reality games on the market, so everyone believed him.

  Though long forgotten, Kismet Cosmos had been Crunch Hut’s first-ever game, so Ant was sure that the new game would be absolutely brilliant. The main problem was the cost. The entire Ray-Chay set-up, including individually-moulded, featherweight headset and bodysuit, came to several thousand pounds.

  ‘Get Ray-Chay, like me.’ Griff grinned. Ant couldn’t work out if he was being deliberately cruel or simply didn’t realise that there was no way – no way on earth – he’d be playing Ray-Chay. It wasn’t the age restriction: Ant had already turned twelve two months back. Just simply, Ant’s family could never afford it.

  ‘Maybe you’ll let me have a go on yours,’ Ant smiled back. ‘Only fair, isn’t it? You’ve had a go on my game.’

  Griff’s smile wavered at the idea that he’d let Ant try on his thousands-of-pounds suit for a split millisecond.

  ‘The suit only responds to its owner,’ Lyle chipped in. ‘You wouldn’t be able to use his suit, duh! You’ll have to get one of your own, Clancy.’

  ‘Didn’t you know that? Keep up!’ Boom made an ugly face, flicking his fingers dismissively.

  Griff threw his arms around his mates’ shoulders, pulling them towards him. ‘Sorry, Ant.’ He didn’t sound it. ‘See you around and enjoy your … gaming.’

  The three of them bounced away up the path joining the Dell to the Parade, laughing as though Griff were the funniest comedian on earth.

  Ant watched them leave, overwhelmed with relief, cradling his precious headset in his arms. He was glad Griff hadn’t seen the real Kismet Cosmos. It was too beautiful for him. So what if no one else had played it in years? Ant was one of the last, perhaps even the last, to travel from planet to planet in Kismet, in a quest to nurture the greatest dragon in the cosmos. That made it all the more special.

  2

  The Biggest Fun

  Griff’s family owned the King’s Elm Hotel-plus-Health-Spa just outside Westford Abbey, the biggest, poshest hotel for miles. On weekends, Griff would hang around the hotel, use the gym when no one was looking (you were meant to be fourteen to go on the machines) or kill time bothering the cleaners. He’d hijack their trolleys to ride down the corridors, build model towns out of soaps and packets of biscuits, and just be a general pest. Just be Griff, in other words.

  After his twelfth birthday, all this changed. Not because he became more mature, but because of the Ray-Chay suit he received as his main present. He still spent a lot of time at the hotel, but on his own, in the main function suite, gaming. The cleaners were very relieved.

  In late February there weren’t many guests. One Sunday, Griff’s mum was away on a theatre trip with friends, and his dad needed to catch up on paperwork. Griff didn’t mind. As long as he could play Ray-Chay to his heart’s content, that was just fine.

  He changed quickly, peeling the suit on over his T-shirt and pants. It looked a lot like a superhero suit. They came in all colours and styles but he’d asked for a black one. It had small silver wings on the ankles and headset, and the red Crunch Hut logo – a small cabin being hit by a thunderbolt – emblazoned across the chest. The suit was packed with loads of tech but it was also incredibly lightweight. The bulkiest bit was beneath the logo, which was OK because Griff thought it made him look like he had a six-pack. It even had a red-lined cape.

  The headset, with its weird-looking bug eyes, plugged into the neck of the suit with a short cable. It was skull-crushingly tight with hundreds of little suckers covering the inside, but you soon got used to it. With the full kit on, he voice-activated the game with just two words: ‘Griff. Activate!’

  His head felt fizzy, full of rushing clouds, as it always did at the start. As soon as this cleared, he did the three-minute calibration sequence to tune up the suit. A wise, old ghost-monkey character called Kyto appeared, sitting on a little cloud, and said in a calm, almost sleepy voice: ‘Let me take you to another world, a world filled with beauty and happiness, a world that can be whatever you want it to be…’

  Griff zoned out, copying the monkey’s slow movements, stretching his arms and legs, reaching from side to side, wiggling his butt in a figure of eight.

  He was really, really hoping that today he would get to see his first enteo. He had almost completed the first three levels of Ray-Chay, which was training, all led by Kyto. Surely he was more than ready? Until you finished the training, you couldn’t race, chase, collect or destroy the enteos. It was frustrating. Patience wasn’t one of Griff’s strengths.

  Beginning Ray-Chay had been exciting and surprising. Secretly, Griff missed the adventure play centres he’d been taken to as a little kid: all the chutes and climbing nets and ball pits. He missed running around in the semi-darkness like a fool, chucking balls at his mates and collapsing breathless on the floor. The first time he’d activated his Ray-Chay suit, he’d been amazed to find himself in the best play centre he’d ever been to, full of big, 3D obstacles and tunnels which sucked you up and spat you out, until you learned how to control your movements. Slowly he got the hang of how to move. In the virtual world, you performed death-defying feats. In reality, all you were doing was making running, climbing and swinging movements on the spot.

  The Ray-Chay suit meant you could sense everything. When Griff picked up a virtual ball, he could feel the weight of it in his hand. When he bounced on the virtual soft-play shapes, the sensation ran up his legs. The only difference was that in the virtual world, you never really got hurt. You could get whacked by some missile and it would feel like a puff of air, as
though the blows were absorbed by the suit.

  The main downside of the game was it could get kind of lonely. Griff had given his avatar a tough sounding name, YoBullit, but there was no one else in the amazing play centre to join in YoBullit’s fun (Kyto the irritating ghost monkey definitely didn’t count).Griff enjoyed being the only person he knew to own a Ray-Chay suit and he boasted about it all the time, but he sometimes wished Lyle or Boom were rich enough to afford one. Then they’d be able to play together. Even an enteo would have been some sort of company.

  The enteos were ghostly, blobbish, constantly-moving creatures: dancing, wiggling and spinning on the spot. They wore large, shield-shaped masks in highly-decorated bronze, silver or gold. There were four basic enteo types and you could only be certain which type you’d found when it was unmasked. That was the game: when you saw one, you had to decide, was it a racer, a chaser, a collector or a destroyer? You had to study the stats floating around the enteo’s head and look for clues in its movements. This took a lot of practice.

  If you called out a racer correctly, you raced it. If you called out a chaser, you chased it. You added collector enteos to your cache. Then there were the destroyers. These were the most difficult to identify. If you came across a destroyer enteo and guessed wrong it would ‘destroy’ you, which meant sending you back a level. Griff knew all this from Crunch Hut’s website but he hadn’t even sniffed an enteo yet.

  He was swimming through sparkling bubbles down a red tunnel, like a single blood cell in an artery. Where the end of the tunnel divided, he shot down the left branch, out into a magnificent green chamber, like an emerald cathedral, containing the biggest ball pit in the universe far, far below. He stopped, levitating in the empty air. He was tempted to fall straight into the balls but he didn’t. Instead Griff floated with total control. There: didn’t that demonstrate his level of skill? He was more than ready to face his first enteo. So where was it? The suit must be broken. As soon as she got back from her weekend away, he’d get his mum to take it back to the store and complain, maybe win some compensation money for his emotional distress…