I should be dead, or at least have several broken bones, but instead I step out of the cart and brush some hay off my shoulder. A new notification appears.
1UP 100% complete. Extra life gained.
Sarah and Carlos come running over to check I’m ok. I brush them away and rush around to see the body of the guy I just killed. I’m shocked to find him standing back at the Test your strength machine with a neutral expression. He makes eye contact with me and smiles. “Fancy proving your manliness?”
“No thanks. Are you feeling ok?”
He laughs. “I’m a little hungover. Is it that obvious?”
“No, no, not at all. You are the picture of good health. Have a nice day.”
“You too. Come again soon.”
Either he’s not the sort to hold a grudge or he has returned to his default programming. I place my hands on my knees and breath a deep sigh of relief as Carlos and Sarah appear by my side again. Carlos says, “Are you sure you’re alright?”
“Yep, I’m good. Actually, I’m great. I got the extra life, so now I’m safe from any surprises. As a bonus I chipped away at one of the main quests. I’d call that a resounding success.”
“Ok, so what’s next?” asks Carlos.
“We need to get you more skill points. Abilities are the fastest way to improve your DPS in the early game. That means we are going to need more combat.” Replies Sarah.
“Perfect. I know just the place!” He beams.
I do not like the sound of this.
LEVEL 9: EINE SCHLÄGEREI ZWISCHEN BETRUNKENEN
Carlos hops back into the Mustang clutching a bag from the local sports store. I raise an eyebrow. “Dare I ask what you just bought?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“Is this the kind of surprise that might use up my only extra life?”
I was joking, but his sheepish smile suggests this may be closer to the truth than I would like.
Sarah revs the engine with a big smile on her face. “Ok, so where to next?”
“The Sozzled Hedgehog.” Exclaims Carlos.
“Never heard of it. Is it new?”
“Nope, it used to be The Hammered Badger, but health and safety shut it down when they found half a labrador in the freezer, so they renamed it. The new name is far more fitting, what with it being full of drunken pricks.”
I give Carlos a look. “You’re kidding right! Nobody in their right mind would go near that place. It is full of football hooligans.”
He waggles his eyebrows and I catch up. “No, not a chance. I am not starting a bar fight.”
“You need levels, they need a scrap. It seems like a win win to me. You’ve already fought muggers, bikers and a carnie today, surely you can handle a bunch of drunks.”
“I was defending myself. It’s very different from instigating a fight.”
“You’re still not getting it are you. This is just a game. These guys are another mob to be used for exp gain and farming loot. When you play a game do you spend your time obsessing over the backstory of every low level minion you fight? Or do you wade in there without a moments hesitation.”
“Based on that logic I should just beat up random people on the street.”
“Now you’re getting it! We don’t have the luxury of time for you to deliver lattes all over town for diminishing returns. If you’re going to boost your levels quickly you’re going to have to engage in less than savoury activities. Those are always the ones that reward you the best.”
“I’m afraid he’s right. We were proud of our combat system and we stacked the rewards to encourage players to use it.” Says Sarah.
I want to argue more, but we pull in to the Sozzled Hedgehog carpark. It is packed, considering it is two in the afternoon. I hop out of the car feeling apprehensive, but then Carlos reaches into the bag and pulls out an item that takes me to full on panic attack. I yell at him, “There is no way I am wearing that in there, they will tear me apart before I make it to the bar.”
“That is kind of the point. Look on the bright side, at least they will instigate the fight. That way your scouts honour can stay intact.”
He holds out the offending article and I reluctantly accept it. I get a status update.
New chest armour: German football shirt. +5 defence, +5 efficiency. Special ability - Provocation
“At least stay out here.”
“And miss the action. No chance! How about you Sarah?”
“This doesn’t look like the kind of place a young lady should be hanging around outside of by herself.”
“So it’s agreed, we are coming in. Let the games begin!”
I swear he’s enjoying this.
Sarah and Carlos walk several feet behind me as I gingerly step into the bar. I’m expecting to be lynched immediately, but nobody is looking at me, they are glued to the projection screen at the front of the room. An England game is on the tv. That explains the full carpark. A quick glance confirms they are playing Germany. Of course they are. I make a mental note to murder Carlos if I make it out of this bar alive.
There’s a huge cheer and I clench my fists in anticipation. Someone shouts, “what a dynamite header! Treasure this moment lads, we are finally going to show these German’s who’s boss.”
I risk a glance at the screen. England just pulled ahead 2-1 with only five minutes left to play. If they can just hang on then everyone should stay in a good mood and I can sneak out of here quietly. I could try and bolt now, but I don’t trust Carlos not to make a scene and force my hand. Better to try to lay low and blend in. I saunter up to the bar. “I’ll take a pint please.”
The barman hands me a flagon of ale the size of a small child. “That will be five gold pieces.”
“Five gold pieces? Can I pay with a tenner?”
He looks at me confused and repeats his request. “That will be five gold pieces.”
I have no idea how to proceed. I only have a couple of gold. I need to find three more gold pieces before this guy decides to kick off. There is a vase on the bar, the kind that would normally contain some kind of loot. I pick it up and chuck it on the floor in the hopes that it is full of gold. Instead a thick cloud of grey dust fills the air. The barman’s face goes from perplexed to enraged. “What have you done to Mildred?”
Oh bugger. I turn and run for the exit, but the barman shouts, “Oy Jimmy. Lock the doors. He hasn’t paid.”
A guy as wide as the doorway blocks the only way out. He cracks his neck left and then right. Then he moves on to his knuckles. Each crack sounds like a tree falling down. His hands are the size of wrecking balls and look just as dangerous. I hold my hands up and back away slowly. “This has all been a big misunderstanding. I’m happy to pay, I just realized I have left my wallet at home…”
Jimmy smirks. A very long health bar appears above his head.
Level 14 Bouncer.
This couldn’t get much worse.
An angry groan ripples through the pub. I take my eyes off Jimmy just long enough to glance at the TV. Germany just equalized and the patrons are not thrilled about it. That’s when I hear someone shout, “Oy Kraut! Are you lost?”
So much for me being low profile. I start backing towards the nearest wall as the crowd of drunken football supporters all wheel around in unison. I catch a glimpse of Carlos and Sarah making their way to the far corner of the room, where they are the least likely to get showered with my blood splatter. Jimmy is still approaching me, but now he’s being more cautious. No point in bruising up his knuckles on my face if the locals will do his job for him.
One of the scrawnier looking blokes steps out in front of the pack. He shouts over the din, “Alright lads, let’s not do anything we regret. We should invite our new friend to sit and have a drink with us and watch the rest of the game. He reaches out and I get ready to defend myself, but he places his hand around my shoulder and walks me towards the TV. The crowd parts and I find myself surrounded. Someone vacates their seat and just like that I find
myself at a table of gentlemen whose tattoos paint a vivid picture of xenophobia and violence. There is a large assortment of drinks on the table. It’s not entirely clear who is drinking what, but drinking it they most certainly are. Someone slams a pint down in front of me and says, “Drink up mate, you’ll need this.”
I take a loud sip just as the final whistle blows. It’s a draw. I’m not sure if I should be relieved or frightened. My new friend confirms it’s the latter. “Penalties. You know what that means. You have to drink a pint for every penalty your team scores.”
“Funny story, I don’t actually support Germany.”
A lot of eyes narrow. “Then why are you wearing a German football shirt?”
Yeah, this is going to be hard to explain. For a dare sounds like something that will get me a swift kicking. Ironically is not a word that this crowd is going to understand. To get into a massive pub brawl makes me sound like a crazy person. Scratch that, Because I am trapped in a video game is the crazy person answer. I stare at him blankly before I say, “It’s laundry day.”
That gets a few chuckles, but the guy isn’t laughing. He is watching the screen intently as the English player steps up to take his penalty. He slams it into the top left of the net and the pub erupts in cheers. Everyone at my table downs their drink immediately and retrieves a fresh one from the pile in the centre of the table. Then they all go quite as the German steps up. I find myself praying that he will miss, but he feigns going left and at the last second slots it right. Typical German efficiency. He doesn’t even celebrate, he is far too sensible. I wish I could say the same. I find myself with a pint glass at my mouth as someone tips up the bottom. Can I get drunk in a game? I guess I am about to find out.
Back and forth they go, both teams scoring their penalties. I’m finishing up my fourth beer as the English player steps up. He’s the team captain, the hero they all need. I mutter a prayer that he will bring this victory home. The goalkeeper goes left, he kicks it right and the crowd is on their feet, but there is a loud clang as it bounces off the goal post.
I watch as the German captain steps forward, no signs of pressure or fear. He hammers the ball into the back of the net like it’s no big deal. Little does he know he is signing my death warrant. All at once, everyone turns to look at me and their expression is one of pure rage. The four pints are just starting to kick in as the first guy screams and takes a swing at me.
There’s no room for evasion. I can’t combat roll my way around the pub. Instead I block and take the hit. I can hear Sarah shouting over the ruckus, “Marcus, you need to parry. If you block they will whittle you down.”
It is good advice, but hard to follow when twenty blokes are all simultaneously trying to kick your teeth down your throat. I’m paying no attention to levels, health or anything else. I am just trying to survive. Easier said than done.
A drunk guy staggers towards me and takes a swing. I try blocking just as he is about to hit me, but my timing is off and he smacks me right in the face. He goes in for another hit, but this time I get it right, and his punch is deflected with a ching. I punch him quickly while I’m doing double damage.
I try several more parries, but most of them end with me getting punched in the face. Now is not the time to perfect my technique. I scavenge from every surface, leftover chips, a half eaten burger, the dregs at the bottom of Doritos packets, anything to keep my health up.
I notice that some of them are holding back, watching me. They are judging me, letting others take the hits so they can learn what I am capable of. Well it’s time I brought the fight to them. I have to wrap this up quickly as the booze is starting to kick in.
I reach into my pocket and pull out the nunchucks. The drunks are at least smart enough to back away, but not smart enough to leave me alone. I whirl the nunchucks around to show them I know how to use them. That’s when Jimmy steps forwards.
He raises his fists and darts towards me like a pro boxer. I swing the nunchucks and they connect perfectly with his head, but instead of him going down, my nunchucks snap in half. Damn, I forgot about weapon damage. Jimmy grabs me by the throat and hauls me up over his head. He tosses me like a rag doll over the pool table and straight through a trophy cabinet filled with glass and the spikiest trophies ever made. I slump into a heap below the cabinet, a solitary hit left on my health bar. Before I can get up the last remaining trophy wobbles and topples over, landing on my head and killing me instantly.
Everything starts to fade to black. I can still hear talking in the background, but I can no longer move. That’s when the prompt appears:
You Died.
Continue? Y/N
1 Life remaining
What the hell? I’m dead. Again! That has to be some kind of record. Now I’m really going to murder Carlos. I’ve barely had my 1UP an hour and thanks to his idiotic plan I already have to use it. It’s not like I have a whole lot of choice.
I hit Y, praying that this works. All of a sudden I am back on my feet with full health and only a slight twinge of pain in my back. Jimmy looks confused to see me back on my feet, but he’s more than happy to put me down again.
I can’t keep fighting like this. Defence is not working, their are too many of them. If I am going to make it out of this pub I need to take the fight to them. I grab a pool cue from the rack.
New Weapon acquired. Bo staff.
Bingo. I run into the crowd and go full Musou. Drunks go flying as I twirl and spin, the bo staff an extension of my body, keeping them at a distance. The moment I stop I regret it, as the room keeps spinning. The beer is kicking in. I have to end this fight now before I barf.
Thanks to my renewed assault there are only a few left standing, and of course Jimmy. I know how much damage he can do now, so I need to be more strategic in my approach.
I’m still considering the optimal strategy when I hear the shouts for help. I look over and see a couple of drunks cornering Sarah and Carlos. At this point they don’t care who they punch. Anyone not wearing an England shirt is fair game. Jimmy lunges for me, but I roll out of the way and he crashes into the wall, temporarily stunning him. I reach into my pocket and pull out two throwing knives, which find their targets. The two drunks scream as they find their feet pinned to the ground.
I turn back just as Jimmy shakes it off and takes another swing at me. There’s no room for error. I roll just in time and punch him in the back of the head, stunning him. I follow up with a flurry of hits from the pool cue. It shatters, but Jimmy still has a few hits left on his health bar. He’s too tough for me to take down with my bare hands. I need a new weapon. I scour the room, but there’s nothing.
That’s when I spot the new blue bar under my life bar. With all the EXP I gained from wailing on these drunkards I’ve finally earned my magic. Just in the nick of time.
“Eat fireballs!” I proclaim and thrust my left hand at Jimmy. He stares at me blankly and nothing happens, not even a spark. He takes a swing at me and I only just manage to dodge it in time, rolling backwards to avoid any further attacks. I shout at Sarah, “My magic isn’t working. It says I have MP, but when I try nothing happens.”
“Check your current spell.”
I don’t exactly have the luxury of time for an extended menu browse right now, but there’s nothing else to hit him with. I dart to the other side of the room to create some distance and hop into the spell menu. There’s no sign of fireballs, lightning bolts or ice blasts. Instead I have a spell called Pivot tables. What the heck?
Jimmy is almost upon me and I am out of options, so I select the spell and cast it in his general direction. One of the nearby tables swings around and hits him squarely in the face. He falls to the ground in a heap, his life bar depleted. Carlos runs over and says, “What on earth was that?”
“Don’t ask.” I look around at the piles of unconscious hooligans and say, “We need to get out of here before the police arrive.”
“You’re not going anywhere!” I turn to see the barman s
tanding on the bar wielding a shotgun. “You’ll pay for what you did to Mildred!”
The funny thing about a bar is that it can also be used as a table. I concentrate and the bar flips up 90 degrees, flinging the owner into the fruit machine. Gold coins come tumbling out and with a sigh I go back to scoop them up. I make sure to leave five of them next to the cash register. Then I carefully step over the piles of unconscious bodies and out the front door as quick as I can.
When we reach the car I grab Carlos by the shoulders. “What kind of stupid plan was that?”
“I don’t see the problem. You made it out in one piece.”
“In one piece? I died! I had to use up my only extra life. It sure would have been nice if I could have held onto it for ten bloody minutes.”
“It’s fine, we’ll just get you another one.”
Sarah shakes her head, “Actually, that was the only one. We didn’t want to spoil the suspense of the game. That was more of a fun easter egg.”
“Well there’s no sense dwelling on it. What’s done is done. On to the next quest.”
I do want to dwell on it, but it won’t do any good. Being mad at Carlos won’t bring my 1UP back. Instead I say, “Can we just get out of here. I don’t want to be around when they finally wake up in there and find their precious drinking hole destroyed.”
“Actually, we treat indoor locations as an instance in our game, so as soon as you go outside they get reset.” says Sarah.
I watch as a couple of guys walk into the pub. There are no cries of distress, nothing at all to indicate that anything is wrong. I turn back and say, “I’ll be back.”
I can’t help myself, I have to see it with my own eyes. I walk back into the pub and everything is exactly as it was when we first entered, even down to the barman. I toss a gold coin at him and say, “here’s a tip mate.”
Level Up Page 8
