Fantalia Online

by Jason Krew

  Duh.

  The creature darted behind him, and he turned to follow.

  'Welcome to Fantalia', it said, its high-pitched voice the kind of thing you heard in a children's cartoon. Roger was already annoyed. It reminded him of all the cute creatures that girls squealed and babbled about in school.

  This is the tutorial?

  'How are you feeling?'

  'Uh, good.' Roger felt so stupid talking to this thing. He imagined the developers sitting in a room, watching this conversation unfold on screen.

  'Great', said the creature. 'No sickness, dizziness or discomfort?'

  'Not really', said Roger. The creature flickered past his face, and he felt an imperceptible wind tug at his hair.

  Pretty cool.

  'That's good! Uhuh, very good.' It swept around his head again, and then through his legs and back in front of him. 'I'm Sopherus. I'm a Pikshie. We're native to Fantalia, and our job is to guide brave adventurers like you.' It paused again, and Roger had barely opened his mouth before it continued.

  'Strong, silent type, huh? That's good. Seriousness is important for a successful adventurer, but try to enjoy the journey too, okay?' If the creature's little green snout could smile, the expression it made now would be one. Its round little body was soft like a pig's, with four limbs and a tail like a bipedal lizard. It was so cute that it almost gave Roger a headache.

  'I lived here all my life, so I don't even think about what it must be like for a visitor. Please, take your time to get used to the air here. There's no hurry.'

  It spiraled off towards a corner of the room where a small table had appeared.

  'Please, join me when you're ready.'

  Roger did so, though it was a rather precarious affair. Unused to this form, he approached the table like a mannequin walking on a pair of stilts. The creature didn't pay him any mind, alighting on the table next to a hefty tome as thick as the creature was tall. It set little, clawed hands to the hardcover, and opened the book to the middle with a thud.

  'This is the tourist's guide to Fantalia,' it said. It danced across the tome's surface, drawing attention to various things with its little pointed tail. 'This book is full of all sorts of maps and diagrams, all intended to introduce you to the kinds of sights and objects you'll come across in your travels.'

  'This,' Its little tail pointed to a wooden building with a great rectangle sign, 'is an inn, called The Dancing Foal. Inns are hubs for Fantalia's adventurer's. You can use inns to rest, post jobs, find work, or even just rest, relax and get to know the other denizens of Fantalia.'

  'The rest I'll leave for you to find out. Isn't that part of the fun? But in the meanwhile, I suggest that when we venture out into the open world, we make for the nearest inn.'

  'We?' The thought leaped from Roger's tongue.

  The creature nodded, blue eyes staring up at him.

  'We pikshenes are your constant companions. We're really useful!'

  Roger raised his eyebrows.

  Seriously?

  'So what's this room? How do I get out.'

  'Ah, of course', said Sopherus. It jumped off the book and made a beeline for a rather nondescript section of wall. It knocked three times and a wooden door appeared, sporting a dark metal handle.

  'This room is a training facility. We want to make sure you feel nice and healthy before you venture out into the world beyond, but you seem pretty sure of yourself. If you have any questions, you know who to ask.' It tapped the grainy wood with its tail. 'As soon as you're ready, head through this door.'

  It hovered there, and Roger accepted that for the time being, it would be coming with him. It didn't matter though. He was excited now. He moved towards the door, gaining more confidence in his gait with every step. Sopherus moved aside as he reached for the door handle. It was almost cool to the touch.

  He opened the door.

  Chapter II - Part 4

  His footsteps hit stone. A town. Where was he? He turned around, but the room was gone. He hadn't even heard the door close behind him. Where was the pikshene?

  'Sopherus,' he murmured, then instantly regretted it. The creature appeared in a flash.

  'Hey,' it said. 'What do you need?'

  He looked around, determined to find his way without the creature's help. There were other people here. Wait. Some of them he'd seen before. Did they all start here, in the same place? He looked left. Right. Saw a sign.

  Heathcliff, it read.

  So he was in a place called Heathcliff. An inn. He needed an inn. There, on the corner of the street. He willed his new body towards it. He could feel himself gaining confidence, and his walk turned into a jog.

  'Inn's are the best places to find your feet,' said Sopherus.

  He opened the door and headed inside. The air felt different in here, but he couldn't quite put a finger on why. It was like the kind of stuffy pressure you felt coming home after spending the evening out in the cold. A fire burned in a hearth in the corner, where a pair of non-player characters chatted.

  'This influx of adventurers today has been quite something.'

  One of them glanced over at Roger, a dapper fellow with a red beret.

  'Here's another one,' he murmured.

  Roger blinked. That was strange. The non-player characters in starting areas were typically kind and helpful, like the pikshene.

  'Pay them no mind', said Sopherus, perching on Roger's shoulder. 'We just aren't so used to visitors here.'

  'I don't care', said Roger. 'They're just lines of code.'

  He glanced about the room, feeling oddly self conscious.

  Even the AI is judging me.

  A man wearing a white turban stood behind a counter, upon which were a stack of ale tankards. Roger approached him.

  'I just got here', he said. 'What am I supposed to do now? Where do I get a weapon?'

  The barman smiled a knowing smile at Sopherus that pissed Roger off.

  'Isn't this what you're here for?' he said.

  The pikshene alighted on the bar, barely taller than the shot glass next to him.

  'This one's different. Can't tell him anything.'

  Roger folded his arms. 'You told me to go to an inn,' he said. 'I'm here, aren't I?'

  Sopherus looked at him with narrowed eyes. 'We pikshenes are very intuitive. I know that you're not going to ask for help, so I gave you the next best option.'

  Roger blinked. Just who exactly programmed this feisty little thing?

  'Alright then.' His arms stayed folded. 'I'll find it on my own.' He turned on his heel and strode outside, nearly bumping into someone on the way out.

  He looked around at the village. Typical RPG starting area. A small hamlet, hemmed in by woods on all sides. In the centre of the square was a number of signs, each pointing in a different direction.

  Loch Arbor. Edgetown. Dysteria. Each name meant nothing to him. He would just have to pick one. Dysteria sounded the most interesting and immediately he imagined a giant elf city, with tall trees and abodes amidst the branches.

  He set off down the road. Sopherus trailed behind him, humming a strange song.

  'The wilds are dangerous', said the pikshene. 'You shouldn't venture out unarmed.'

  Roger shrugged. 'Until I find a weapon, I have no choice.'

  As if on cue, a voice thundered over the entire area.

  'Fantalia world first. The first recorded death was a player from Switzerland.'

  Roger had nearly leaped out of his skin at the voice.

  The first death? Was every world first going to be announced in that manner? Welp. If I die out here, at least I'm not the first.

  He was soon in the forests proper, and the path meandered through a dense thicket. Roger's head was on a swivel. He could smell pine, and the scent was so analogous to the real world equivalent that he forgot what pine really smelled like. This was what he was here for! He really was in a faraway forest, adventuring to unknown locations.

  The forest grew thicker, and th
e trees obscured any view mere feet from the path. A rustling noise caught his ear and he froze. He couldn't see what was causing it, and so he proceeded with caution, careful not to produce unnecessary noises.

  He could feel anticipation rising inside him. Sopherus was silent. Vefore he could get any further, snapping branches whipped the air and a horned monster burst onto the path.

  It saw him, eyes rolling over white. The creature charged.

  Chapter III - Part 1

  The monster barrelled towards him, and Roger evaded by a hair, tripping over his own feet and sprawling on his side. He staggered to his feet, watched the creature as it turned around for another charge.

  It was a boar. A typical, low level forest boar, with small tusks and a soft hide. Roger felt like an idiot. Worse, he was ashamed at how scared he was feeling. He didn't get out of the way the second time.

  It took him low in the shin, and he felt something akin to a shock of low-volt electricity mark the area. A strange sensation, serving only to confuse him further. Where was his HP bar? But the boar wasn't done, and it tucked its head for another strike.

  Roger danced away from the creature, and with a frantic stomp, brought his boot down right between its eyes, creating an opaque flash where the contact was made.

  I don't think that did much. He tried again, but this time it jumped, struck Roger square in the abdomen, and drove him off the path and into the bushes.

  It snorted and squealed, and its cleft hooves sent a shock over Roger's body. It scrambled over him and back into the undergrowth. Roger's vision was pulsing red now, and his body felt strange where the creature had struck him. Was he dying? He felt a lump swelling in his throat. Nothing could ever go right for him. Nothing could ever be easy. The boar was coming back, jaw foaming with blind rage. He was going to die to this level one mob. He was too stupid to be real.

  As the boar raced towards him, snorting and grunting and lowering its head, Roger closed his eyes. The impact never came, and there was a loud crack as it sailed past him and into a tree.

  'I knew it,' he said. He had crouched down at the last minute, and he stood up with a triumphant smile.

  As he had guessed, the creature only had a handful of attacks. A lunge and a charge. In this thickly vegetated section of forest, both were dangerous with no armor and no weapons, but they were predictable. Like all enemies in games, there were certain tells that revealed the monsters intentions.

  He waited, anger simmering under the surface, just enough to help him concentrate. The boar was bearing down on him once again, tucking its head once more, and Roger grinned a savage grin. The inevitable leap came, and he drove his fist right into the creature's snout. There was a bright crimson flash, a dull shock down his arm, and then the boar was on the ground. It writhed on its side for a moment, and Roger took his chance.

  Rage boiling over, he kicked and stomped at the creature, eliciting a number of scarlet flashes until his boot went right through the creature and sent him slipping onto his butt. The boar was disappearing before his very eyes. He had killed it.

  'Dude.'

  Roger looked up, dazed, breath heaving in his chest. There was someone on the path, garbed in green leather with a short bow slung over their shoulder. 'Did you just beat that thing to death with your bare hands?'

  Roger turned to look at the corpse, but it was fully gone now. In its place was a strip of leather and a broken tusk.

  'I guess so.' He picked himself up off the floor, began the unnecessary exercise of brushing himself off. His breathing was coming in gasps.

  'You don't have a weapon?' The man lifted his cap. He was in his thirties, maybe. A little red creature peeked over his shoulder, dark eyes glistening. Roger was used to playing with adults online, not actually interacting with them face to face.

  'I dunno,' he replied. 'Haven't found one.'

  'Where's your pikshene? He should have told you where to go.'

  'Yeah. I wanted to find it myself though.'

  The man looked confused, but eventually just shrugged. 'Fair enough. That was crazy though, man.' He gestured at the loot the boar left behind. 'I think I'll call you Fist from now on.'

  Roger thought he could feel his face burning, but he wasn't sure.

  'You gonna loot that or what?' said the man.

  Roger looked at the perfect square of leather.

  'I don't know how.'

  The man lifted his hat, scratched at a head of short hair. 'Did you complete any of the tutorial?' He appeared rather concerned. 'Never mind. You get your pikshene to do it. They loot for you, gather, collect, whatever you need.'

  Roger looked about for his little green companion, but he was nowhere in sight.

  'Call him,' said the man.

  'Okay,' said Roger, feeling stupid. 'Alright. S-Soph. Sopherus.'

  The pikshene appeared from right out of nowhere.

  'At your service!'

  'Where did you go?' said Roger.

  'I was here the whole time. You just didn't want to see me.'

  Roger's shame deepened.

  'Can you loot that, please.'

  'Gladly.' Sopherus hovered over the items, and with a loud breath, his belly swelled up many times its normal size and he sucked the loot straight through his open jaws. 'Ah, very good. Our first items.'

  Roger's mouth was agape at the display. Sopherus burped.

  'Pretty cool, huh?' said the man. 'Now you should probably ask him where to get a weapon. It is a him, right?'

  Sopherus was watching Roger again, little face expressionless. Roger couldn't look at him, at least not directly. He spoke to the tree, watching Sopherus from the corner of his eye.

  'Ah, Sopherus. Where do you think I can find a weapon?'

  'I thought you'd never ask.' The little creature danced over, but Roger refused to make eye contact. 'The weapons master in Heathcliff.'

  Roger sighed, shoulders bowing. The town he had first arrived in. 'I'm not going back to Heathcliff.'

  'You're in luck,' said the man with the bow, and he held out his hand, enclosed in which was a notched short sword. 'Got this off a kobold in a cave over there.' He gestured to somewhere off the track.

  Roger stared down at it, mute.

  'It's alright,' said bow man. 'It doesn't seem worth much.'

  Roger took it, mumbled 'thank you'. He swung it left and right, admiring the white lines it traced with each swing, the sing of metal cutting the air.

  'I figured you were a melee type,' said bow fellow. 'Gray, by the way.'

  'Roger.' The two shook hands. 'Hey, what level are you?'

  Gray smiled. 'That's another thing your pikshene can tell you.'

  'Level two,' said Sopherus, floating up between them.

  'Say. Gray hiked a thumb over his shoulder. 'Want to go hunt some kobolds? You might find some other gear to go with that sword.'

  Roger was reminded of the loud smoking man he'd met earlier. This guy didn't seem that annoying, though. In fact, he'd actually been pretty cool so far.

  'Okay, sure.'

  Gray didn't wait. 'Then let's go.' He set off at a run, and Roger stared at him for a few seconds before following.

  They were back-tracking towards Heathcliff, but quickly turned down a small trail that Roger had missed the first time. There were more boars here, and Gray unshouldered his bow and took a shot. His first arrow missed, but the boar failed to notice.

  'Sorry.' said Gray. 'Still getting used to this thing. Lucky these ones don't aggro if you miss.' He didn't have to reload, the bow seemed to do so automatically. The next arrow he aimed true. It sunk into the boar's side with an amber flash, made it pitch forward and wriggle, quickly disappearing. One shot.

  'Crit,' said Gray. He took aim at a second boar. It hit the creature in the leg, and its response was swift.

  Roger felt flush with excitement. He scrambled forward, his new sword a comforting weight. He intercepted the boar, but a second arrow caught it on the snout and put it out of its misery. A d
ry disappointment settled on him as he watched it disappear. Gray's pikshene sucked up the creature's loot without command.

  'Thank you, Monte,' he said, continuing on down the path. 'Don't worry Roger, there's plenty of mobs ahead.'

  Roger followed, eager to get some experience and loot for himself. He cast a glance about for his companion.