Realm of arkon torrent download

But every gamer's dream becomes a nightmare for Roman Kozhevnikov after he gets confined to Arkon against his will. And not just … More.

Book 1. Patch 17 by G. A new update arrives to the ultra-popular online g… More. Want to Read. Shelving menu. Shelve Patch Want to Read Currently Reading Read. Rate it:. Book 2. The Cursed Princedom by G. Shelve The Cursed Princedom. Book 3. Steel Wolves of Craedia by G. A Peasant hits you for 10 damage. You die.

Those douchebags must have turned off the pain blocker. For the outright masochists, the value could be upped to twenty percent. This could be a malfunction of your personal capsule or a game bug! Exit the game immediately and notify to the Administration! Failure to do as instructed may lead to serious injury or death. You died in combat and will now be resurrected at your last bind point. Remember, you can change your bind point with the help of a special spell.

The site of your demise will display a gravestone that will contain your money, gear and inventory items. Any player who finds your corpse will be able to loot the money and the inventory items, but only you will be able to loot your equipment, including potions and elixirs placed into special belt pockets.

Finally, you can grant another player the right to pick up your stuff for you. Well, damn! Resurrecting in 9… 8… 7…. Because I had yet to bind anywhere since spawning in this world, I was going to resurrect in the same spot. Before materializing I tried to get as far as possible from the shoveling cretin, who had since wandered off toward a random heap of sawdust. I had to make it to the graveyard somehow—that would buy me time to consider my next steps.

When the colorful picture returned, I spun around and zipped down a foot-worn, dust-laden road away from the peasant, naked save for my loincloth. Or at least I attempted to.

Her hands free, she executed a proper right hook that sent me straight to my next incarnation. Perhaps it was time to start believing in omens! Just an ordinary peasant woman—her face quite comely, almost human, with reddish skin and simple clothes.

A Peasant Woman hits you for 10 damage. Two minutes till resurrection. The gray-and-white tones made it difficult to orient myself, especially since ghost form only allowed me to see the nearest NPC s and vague structural outlines. Neither was staying dead. The game would resurrect me every two minutes and, considering the level difference between my character and the hostile NPC s in the area, they would aggro on me from a hundred yards at the least.

It was still painful, though! Excruciating, even. The next several hours brought nothing new… I resurrected and died. Died and resurrected. A Boy hits you for 10 damage. You can now resist pain! It was the fourth time that damned sniper sent me to be reborn. Little stone-slinging bastard! Toughness… I'd never even heard of such a skill. Ivan had mentioned before that the game did some crazy things at times. At any rate, it was hardly something that could help me here and now.

I stopped counting time, my deaths and flashes of pain. There came a point when an inhuman, unbearable thirst took hold of me.

My strength reserves were enough for a two-second acceleration, but what could two seconds do in my situation? As of January 1, , the game boasts 57,, subscriptions.

Demon Grounds Patch Announcement:. Attention: All servers will be down on April 27 for Patch If you want to take part in the beta-testing, please submit your request directly from your account.

Sacrificing half of his blood and all his remaining strength for its creation, the Great Arkan shook the very bedrock of reality. When the Gods of Light tore off the infernal seals, their army was met by battle-ready legions of their former comrades. Velial and his broken forces disappeared into the bowels of the Netherworld—staying behind for the battle was pointless.

The forces of Light withdrew, sealing the plane once more and dubbing it Demon Grounds. Ever since that day, legions of the risen guard the entrance to the Netherworld. The blood of races light and dark mixed with that of the evil overlord, and proximity to the Netherworld altered their appearance.

Thus a new race appeared in Arkon. The Demon race. Rage, cunning and cruelty run alongside wisdom and fearlessness. More than half of this race are humanoids who have inherited all the traits and characteristics of their ancestors. And the blood of the True Demon, coupled with proximity to the Netherworld, gave rise to certain mutations unique to their race.

Besides demons, the closed plane is home to huge numbers of varied creatures that used to inhabit these lands. Over time, these creatures have all mutated to varying degrees.

Get ready for 4 new classes and exciting new ways to grow and personalize your character! The patch will include 16 new raid zones, over hidden quests, 18 new gear sets, over epic weapons, over new mobs, new pets and mounts, and much more! It all began a few years ago when, on the insistence of my little and only sister, I submitted my works to the studio behind the Realm of Arkon.

Roman Kozhevnikov, a 32 years old Moscow resident, divorced, no kids. My hobbies included art, beer and women. I was just your average Joe. On that momentous weekend, my little sister burst into my rented apartment like a tornado. Wrinkling her nose at the fragrance hovering in the hallway—my latest fling had just departed ten minutes prior to her arrival—she shoved into my hands bags of produce, pecked me on the cheek and, without bothering to take off her shoes, slipped into the room.

I carried the groceries into the kitchen. My sister would never visit just because—she was under constant impression that her brother was on the brink of starvation. I must have told her a thousand times to stop bringing me food, but my pleas fell on deaf ears. Man, her future husband was in for a fun life! What are you searching for? Need any help? Looking back at me from the monitor screen were two female elves, clad in suspiciously light armor as they posed triumphantly over the carcass of some mythic beast that sprouted more arrows than a porcupine had quills.

With a heavy sigh and a wry face, my little sister got up from the chair, sat me down in it instead, and began to speak—in the tone of a doctor addressing a mental patient. I want you to be happy. But instead of starting a family, all you care about is women. I want you to get your shit together and quit gawking at tits all day long.

This is your chance! Your drawings are amazing! They need a professional. And I know video games about as well as a pig knows oranges. You probably need to know how to draw in 3D. Look, it says here in plain language—they want someone to create! Drawing fantasy-style scenery was indeed a hobby of mine. Only a few people knew about this hobby, however. That same day I e-mailed seven scans of my drawings to the address indicated on the site, and Alyona herself composed the e-mail.

The response came three days later. And in another two weeks I was already in San Francisco…. And they paid me well for it. For two whole years I worked like a dog, buying a car and a house in the suburbs. I went back to Russia a few times and was even considering bringing my sister stateside when it all came crumbling down.

For the past several months or so, ominous clouds had been gathering over the company. Strange people would turn up at the office and summon employees for private conversations. The management would disappear at meetings for days on end. Rumors swirled that we were being bought out by the US government. Our department was left alone—indeed, why bother the artists?

These things normally went down was as follows: a bunch of big shots in their ivory towers would do their dance and replace some or most of the management, which hardly ever impacted us mere mortals. We even jested that, after the sale of the company, a new American faction would appear on the Arkon map, its banner featuring a hamburger and a Coke vending machine.

The joke was based on reality—you could buy both Coke and Pepsi in the game in nearly every Erantian bar, though their art looked different from the real thing. There was also cellular communication with the real world, and priced accordingly.

One gold coin—three grams in weight—cost around one hundred evergreen coins. Money could be officially transferred into and out of the game by paying the applicable taxes and fees. The limit were set at three thousand dollars per account to transfer in, with no limit to transfer out. Each account was limited to only one character.

Sick of your druid and want a warrior instead? No problem—delete the druid and play warrior all you like. The game and near-game world were experiencing a veritable gold rush, with people quitting their real jobs in favor of earning virtual money. The circulated amounts were astronomical. High-level clans would capture and defend areas of concentrated rare metals, where their miners toiled day and night to earn dough both virtual and real.

Rangers were always on the lookout for new, undiscovered dungeons with the aim of selling any new information to various gaming communities. Many companies imported their whole businesses into the game. Toward the end of summer, the entire staff was taken on a company retreat aimed at promoting a corporate culture, filled with trainings on teamwork and fostering leadership.

Held at a posh hotel on the coast, we were subjected to roughly five hours of brainwashing at various trainings daily; come evening, the folks would let loose and take to drunken debauchery. This went on for one whole week. At the final party on Friday, after the brass gave their speeches and the final round of revelry began, I headed up to my room to change my shirt, whose sleeve had been smudged with some exotic sauce by a certain colleague of mine with soft lips and a C cup.

Deciding to take a look and see if my help was needed, I came upon the following scene. Standing with his back to me about ten feet away was a man, holding the chin of a sobbing girl in a gown with two fingers of his left hand, and hissing lazily through clenched teeth:. On your knees, and start working off your debt. As he began to topple over, I sealed the deal with a left—purely on instinct.

The would-be rapist collapsed to the floor. That, however, turned out to be a mistake…. Cheney stirred, then scrambled up from the floor. His eyes were two pools of rage; he spat some blood on the white marble, and spoke in a tone of bitter frost.

My time in this friendly country had clearly come to an end, since my employment termination was all but guaranteed. As for the dead man comment, well, we would see about that. I turned to the girl. Her mouth agape and big brown eyes opened wide, the girl shifted her gaze from me to the door into which Adam had disappeared with barefaced horror. Finally, seeming to arrive at a decision, she uttered:. Can you give me a lift?

We drove in silence for thirty minutes. I was in my thoughts, contemplating the road, while Jane was checking something in her mirror. Let the nationalists curse me all they want, but I liked living here. Have you ever seen the mist envelop the bay and the Golden Gate Bridge? The feeling you get when observing the phenomenon from the bridge itself is indescribable.

And then there were the Yosemite mountains with their glaciers and waterfalls, and the ancient sequoias in the Mariposa Grove! But what could a simple graphic artist do? Even in the Realm of Arkon, a single character had incomparably more control over their fate. Perhaps that was why so many people were living their whole lives online? I designed the zone: a castle, ten or so villages, landscapes and environs. It was an unusual order—had to be a recreation zone.

A lake in the middle, yachts and mansions, a woods, and the castle itself was nearly twice the standard size, clearly of the level ten variety. See, there are certain rules. For example, RP would never allow contemporary buildings in the game.

I tried to explain these things to that shit-for-brains, but it was useless. In the end I gave up and did as instructed, then handed over the art to the designers. What should have been an easy job—an almost perfect circle twelve miles in diameter—turned into a nightmare. Very scared.

Cheney is not the kind of man to forgive something like that. The company is going through tough times—hopefully that will keep him busy. I finally caught him after his presentation, and he suggested we go up to his room and iron out some points of contention.

When he started hitting on me, I slipped out of the room, but he caught up to me and pushed me out onto the terrace. I grunted. We dropped by her place to pick up her stuff, then headed to a hotel she was planning on holing up in, unwilling to stay in her own home.

Along the way she asked me to stop the car, got out and made a call to someone from a pay phone. The weekend flew by. At least I thought so, even though our interactions carried a measure of tension. We made a tacit agreement not to bring up work or the incident from Friday. I have a… premonition. I lifted her chin and kissed it, gave her a wink and said:. The first two letters are my initials spelled backwards—easy to remember.

The whole story stunk, with its lack of a beginning and an ambiguous end. Would I ever see Jane again? I had no idea. And if I did, would we remember these two days fondly and want to rekindle them?

It was all super weird. Ivan knew full well that I lived in the suburbs, and it would take me at least an hour to get to Market Street.

Although… I glanced at the phone in my hand. Right, we lived in a world of high technology! Fine, then, this was even better. His wife Sarah had driven up to meet her husband, and their son—four-year-old Sam, a facetious little guy—ran out onto the roadway after a soccer ball.

I was just leaving the office and, luckily, happened to be nearby. No one got hurt, and later that evening I was having dinner with the family at their home. I found out that my new pal was named Ivan in honor of his Russian great-grandfather who had immigrated to Canada many years ago.

We would get together on many occasions since, and had even gone fishing a few times. But when the company entered its stretch of turmoil, Ivan pretty much disappeared. It had been three months since I saw him last.

Cocking her head slightly and giving me a most welcoming look, she said:. Naturally, having arrived on the last Parisian stagecoach, the monsieur smiled and took a look around.

Ivan was sitting in a far corner, facing the entrance, over a cup of coffee and a lit cigarette. Upon seeing me, he rose to his feet and flashed his signature, picture-perfect American smile. For a moment, his eyes seemed warmer. The young woman who had escorted me took my order of one espresso and withdrew. We sat down. I produced a pack of Lucky Strike, put a cigarette between my lips and took a drag. As I exhaled, I asked him:. Or did you find out that I was nearby and decided to have some decency and finally see a friend?

Now, sure, plenty of people wanted to punch out this particular member. My guys were green with envy, watching that footage. The FBI has the footage. If anything happens to you, that gives the FBI an upper hand on the company. Everybody gets it, which is why we were ordered to keep an eye on you.

And only that. I was finally brought my coffee. I took a sip and nearly choked from the thought that popped into my head. At first, Ivan was giving me a blank stare. Having finally understood my meaning, he burst out laughing. I put my hands out in front and did the gesture of locking my mouth with a key and discarding it. Roughly ten million daily connections, if memory serves me right.

Arkon is a world of possibilities. Wizards, warriors, elves and fairies. My level thirty five warrior is there for work purposes—to roam around the different zones, check out the fruits of my labor. Picked up a girl for the night. Albeit an animated rubber doll. To find a woman, settle down and start a family. And the women are real.

The analysts forecast that in another six months RP will enter a whole new level of control. Monica Reed and Sarah Price? Arkon holds only forty one percent of the shares. Resting on the table in front of me was a typical cheap video player of Chinese manufacturing, barely the size of a cigarette pack. Ivan fell back in his chair and crossed his arms, then nodded at the player. The picture came on right away. Spread out on a table, bound with chains and whimpering pitiably was a Light Elf female—obviously a player, name Prissy, level 15, health bar in the yellow, numerous cuts on her body, wearing nothing but bra and panties.

The decor abounded in blood-red tones, though only several pieces of black furniture and a huge mirror fit in the frame. Standing next to the table was a Dark Elf, level , name Kuwaz. He was holding an ordinary kitchen knife and standing sideways to the camera, keeping his face out of the frame. Is in-game torture impossible?

Is rape impossible? I kept a stunned silence. A quest, for instance, might call for you to be caught and burned at the stake the dark races sure had it made! But this—slashing and cutting with a knife—this was something else! There was always the option to log out and contact the administration.

It was possible that the girl was a masochist in real life, that it was all orchestrated. I was thoroughly lost. Lay low for at least three days, then call a cab and get the hell out of the state. Forget your phone here, and leave your car, too—my guys will drive it to your place later.

Call me at work in a week. And good luck. He rose, enclosing my hand in his, and smacked me on the shoulder. I put my bundle of car and house keys on the table, took one last glance at my friend, then turned around and headed for the exit. Once outside, I took a look around, raised the collar of my windbreaker and, feeling like a character from a cheap detective story, hurried toward the subway.

How quickly your life could change sometimes, forcing you to abandon everything—your car, house, job and coworkers—and run. Immersed in my thoughts, I missed the sudden shift in movement in a man walking towards me… A powerful blow right in the solar plexus and I doubled over in pain.

There was a sting in my neck, and as I faded into darkness I heard the sound of doors opening in the van that had just pulled up behind me. I opened my eyes. I felt horrendous, with my head a noisy mess, my muscles aching, and my neck feeling numb. I looked around the room: white walls, some kind of machinery droning in the corner, a computer desk with a monitor behind a row of six game capsules.

I was sitting in a rigid chair in nothing but underwear, my hands cuffed behind my back. With me in the room were four people in plastic blue robes, and Cheney, sitting directly across and rubbing his hands in black gloves—was he cold or something?

Standing on each side of me were two gorillas, and to my right a short balding fellow was putting an empty syringe on a cart with some kind of vials. I felt fear creeping up inside me…. How rude of you. A mighty punch in the jaw knocked me over, along with the chair. My face broke the fall on a floor tile.

I was quickly lifted off the floor and put back in the chair; this time, the duo held me tight. They were going to kill me. I understood this, but was utterly helpless to stop it. Suddenly the fear abated, replaced by hatred. Another blow. My head jerked backwards and my mouth filled with blood. Two more followed—one to the body and another to the head—and there I was again, wiping the floor and spitting a mix of bile and blood onto the white tiles.

Another crack—my body felt like it was shocked with high voltage, and I gasped with unbearable pain. It was a pitiable attempt, but it did the job. Cheney recoiled intuitively, wiping crimson drops off his cheek. His face morphed into a mask of bestial fury, and the very next strike of his sharp heel into my chest extinguished my consciousness yet again.

When I came to, I was back in the chair, being held on either side. My body ridden with excruciating pain, I could barely breathe. Everything was a blur. In the silence that followed, I was put into a chair and given several injections of some unknown substance. After removing the handcuffs, they dragged me to one of the game capsules.

As the helmet clamps locked in place, the system recognized me, triggering the loading of the OS. As soon as the system loaded, the game app was launched, and a moment later I was at the race selection screen. Race selection menu. Proud and resilient, the human race has managed to win themselves a place under the Arkon sun. Powerful mages and invincible knights have earned the right to carry the celebrated banners of their ancestors into the future.

Playing for the human race opens up a world of possibilities to develop your character. You can join either side in the never-ending fight between the forces of light and darkness.

The human kingdom of Erantia is situated in the northwestern section of the inhabited continent of Karn. To the east, Erantia shares their border with the Orcs. To the southeast stretch the Kraet Peaks—home to Dwarves and Drow. Their starting city—Vaedarr, city of the Seven Winds—is located at a crossing of major trade routes, at the center of lands populated primarily by humans.

Are you sure you want to select this race? Was I sure? Well, it was certainly nice to be asked—not that I had much choice in the matter. Why anyone would willingly play those square-shaped bearded creatures, I would never understand. Drow, for instance, were born with maximum resistance to dark magic, a bonus of one percent per level to water resistance, plus two percent to damage with daggers and to stealth.

Drow were the best rogues in the game. The most delectable bonuses were enjoyed by dwarves, since the administration bent over backwards to try and draw players to select this race. In theory, if I were to reach level 75, my resistance to dark and light magic would be maxed.

Raising those stats higher still would only be possible with talents, equipment or by completing secret quests. And if memory served me right, she was level The whole clan's average level was around … Typical Korean grinders. Select your class. The realm of Arkon abounds with oceans of power, and sorcerers dedicate their lives to learning to command them.

At level 10, the Sorcerer must choose an area of specialization:. Take control of the elements and deal tremendous amounts of damage in bursts. Initial relationship to light and dark forces: dark—neutral; light—neutral. Raise an army of the dead, cast curses upon your enemies, and summon creatures from other planes to fight on your behalf. Initial relationship to light and dark forces: dark—neutral; light—unfriendly.

Attack your enemies using light and mental magic, heal other players and creatures of Arkon, and take control of powerful enemies. Initial relationship to light and dark forces: dark—unfriendly; light—neutral. Despite their incredible powers, mages, priests and necromancers are extremely vulnerable in battle. For this reason, these classes are recommended only for experienced players. I always hated this class. I would always choose either warrior or hunter—sorcerers were always a pain! What nonsense!

What did it matter which class I was being forced to play when my actual body was mangled and stuffed into a capsule? Welcome to base stats allocation menu! You have 20 points to allocate for base stats! The administration would like to warn you that no changes are possible after the character is created! Agility: increases your chances to dodge enemy attacks, to hit critically in both melee and ranged attacks, reduces damage from falling, and boosts movement speed.

Strength: increases armor class and attack power of equipped weapons. Strength also determines the weight your character can carry. Constitution: determines the amount of damage your character can sustain before dying. Spirit: hastens the regeneration of vigor, hit points and mana. The logical thing to do would be to add three-four points to strength, one to agility and spirit, five to constitution, and the rest to intellect. Unfortunately, I was no more than a bystander in this process of creation of my character.

The numbers on the screen changed. Really now, expecting anything different would have been silly at best. The most useless stat was maxed out to start. But hey, at least now I should be getting plenty of crits.

Oh, and nobody would dare try to outdodge me! I was determined to look for positives in my hopeless circumstances. Another stat that was virtually useless for a caster. Constitution: 1. That made sense. Accept new stats? Brittle and stupid, but strong and agile. The worst imaginable combination, in fact. This is where you can customize your appearance. Needless to say, my level 35 warrior had been deleted. As such, I had retained my former name and appearance.

Your selection is confirmed. I finally made it out of that damned village at night, after its inhabitants had crawled into their houses. How I had kept my sanity thus far, I would never know. Evidently, it was the hatred seething on the inside that had sustained me. Time after time I would resurrect and rush toward the gate, cursing the scumbag that had deemed himself master of the world.

Vivid images of me ripping his throat with my teeth flooded my mind, and I felt better. Until eventually there came a moment when I materialized outside the stables all alone. There was still light in their homes, and the inn was bustling with the loud voices of hammered villagers.

I picked up my things, downed a liter of water from my flask and started toward the gate, looking around warily as I went. Every so often they would take a swig from some container and exchange a few words. With my stats, there was no way I could climb the ten-foot palisade ringing the village, nor was it placed there to be climbed by random noobs. The fourth tower stood to the right of the gate, empty. With Patch 17, the level of immersion experienced by players in their gaming capsules has made virtual reality indistinguishable from the real world.

But every gamer's dream becomes a nightmare for Roman Kozhevnikov after he gets confined to Arkon against his will. And not just to Arkon, but to its deadliest zone - Demon Grounds. Playing - or rather living - as his character Krian, it's not just about survival for Roman.

He longs to exact revenge for his banishment to the virtual world where the sensation of pain has reached percent The flames of war spread through the Cursed Princedom to devastating effect. Bound by powerful centuries-old magic, the Great Essences yearn to regain their freedom.

In the face of an impossible mission, Krian has no choice but to keep going while risking everything that's become dear to him. The only solution is to become stronger and forget the meaning of the word impossible.

And so a plangent wolf's howl soars over the battlefield as a plate-clad cavalry rushes the enemy ranks A great war encroaches following the turbulent events of patch 17, casting a menacing shadow over both Demon Grounds and lands of the light races.

Roused from a millennia-old slumber, dark gods seek to exact vengeance for their past defeat. Max finds himself at the epicenter of it all - with the lives of his woman, his friends, and all his people in the Wild Wood dependent on him.

Two unlikely heroes must stand - and endure - against all odds: one a Black Demon from an ancient prophecy, the other a fabled Gray Lion But as the impossible hurdles keep on coming, even that drive may not be enough for Krian to escape Demon Grounds, make it to the higher plane, reunite with his sister and friend, and exact vengeance on his mortal enemy The Spectral City of Cathella is shrouded in strange magic of a powerful artifact.

Krian must face the Great Dragons of Pangea, an impossible quest on the Ancient Paths, transformed by the Twice Cursed God, a journey through an endless graveyard, the smile of the Goddess of Stealth And rage. Infinite rage. The path to the higher plane never seems to end, too much for any man to overcome. Roman was never supposed to escape the locked plane that was his prison. And yet, somehow the impossible task became possible with the help of new friends, and despite the tricks of old enemies.