Level Up

by Craig Anderson

  “You too Marcus. Good luck.” She makes a show of ticking her card.

  I walk right past the next girl, and the next one, all the way to Sarah’s table. Charles is about to sit down, but he sees me coming. He instantly pulls back the chair and says, “Do you mind taking my spot old chap, I desperately need another drink.”

  “Thanks Charles. I owe you one.”

  “Nonsense, I can see you’re a man on a mission. I don’t want to stand between you and your destiny.” He flashes me a wink and pulls me aside. “Do you need protection? In case things go well?” He subtly palms me a condom. I don’t want to make a scene so I quickly slip it into my pocket. Then he whistles and strolls off towards the bar.

  I sit down and Sarah says, “What are you doing?”

  “What I should have done a long time ago.”

  There it is. The raw fear, the real deal. That deep ache in the pit of my stomach. I care about Sarah and I’m about to confess how I feel. I’ve been waiting to do this for years.

  Her eyes widen and she says, “Wait, no…”

  Nothing is going to stop me now, not even Sarah. “I really like you. As in, I fancy you. I’ve thought about you a lot over the past 3 years, and what I would say to you if I ever saw you again. I get that you’re still getting over the last guy, but I have to know if you feel the same.”

  Bit the Bullet - 3 of 4 Fears conquered. 75% complete.

  I wait for her response, my heart pounding in my chest. I’m the hero in this story, this is the part where she falls lovingly into my arms and we live happily ever after.

  Sarah groans. “You bloody idiot. What have you done?”

  I’ll be honest, it’s not the response I was expecting. “Excuse me?”

  “You’ve made me the love interest!”

  It takes me a moment to comprehend what she is saying.

  Oh shit. I’m about to grab her and drag her out of the room when I notice we are surrounded by waiters. They slowly tighten the circle around us until there’s no escape. One of them reaches out and grabs Sarah. She screams and he drags her through the group. They close the gap immediately.

  The tallest one says, “Lads, I heard this guy sent a bottle of wine back earlier for not being fruity enough. Let’s be sure to thank him.”

  Health bars pop up everywhere. These guys are tough and there are at least a dozen of them. I can still hear Sarah screaming in the distance. If I move quickly I may be able to catch her.

  I run at the wall of crisp white shirts and bounce right off. They keep moving towards me, my available space getting squeezed. I try to leap over them, but they reach up and grab my ankle, dragging me back to the earth with a thump. Actually, several thumps. I try to parry, but I still can’t get the timing right. Instead I block. Each hit doesn’t do much damage by itself, but there are so many of them. My health bar is slowly being eroded by the onslaught.

  Group management 101, don’t get surrounded. I flick my left hand and a flying table carves me a gap in the crowd, allowing me to get out of the centre of the circle. They still stalk towards me, but at least now I can put my back to the wall if I need to.

  I reach into my pockets but I have nothing of value except a couple of sticks and a condom. I really need to stock up on weapons. For now I’m just going to have to improvise. I take down three of the closest attackers with a flurry of kicks and a few solid punches, but they just keep coming. There are too many of them. I need a distraction. What is it that waiters want more than anything else in the world?

  There is something of value in my pockets after all. I pull out my remaining gold coins and toss them into the group. “Here’s a tip, thanks for the great service.”

  The waiters stop their attacks and scramble to scoop up the money, starting a couple of fights amongst themselves. This is my chance.

  I’m about to leave when one of the waiters grabs me from behind. He’s a big guy and he lifts me clean off the floor, my legs flailing around ineffectively. I’m still trying to figure out how to break free when there is a loud crash and pieces of glass shatter around me. The big guy slumps to the ground and I see Charles pouring what is left of the champagne out of the broken bottle and in to a flute. He takes a sip and says, “looks like you needed protection after all old chap.”

  LEVEL 14: A WALK IN THE PARK

  I flip on my speed boots and spiral outwards from the pub, hoping to get lucky. After four laps I skid to a halt. There is no sign of the guys that took Sarah. It’s as if they vanished.

  I have no idea what to do next, I just know that I need to save her. Carlos will know what to do. I sprint back to the car and tear off towards the university. I could follow the streets, but time is of the essence, so I drive as the crow flies, ignoring traffic lights, down pedestrian side streets and straight across a football pitch. There’s a tatty football that’s been discarded in the middle of the pitch and I can’t help spin the wheel hard left to flick it into the goalposts.

  Ten minutes later I burst into Sarah’s office. Carlos is still there, headset on, his tongue sticking out in concentration. I yank the headset off and he says, “Dude! Never break immersion like that, not cool.”

  “They’ve taken Sarah.”

  “Taken her? Where? Who?”

  “I don’t know. I told her that I cared about her and just like that she was snatched. She seemed to know it was going to happen.”

  Carlos groans. “I just got to that part of the game. The moment you show romantic interest in another character the game targets that individual and kidnaps them. It’s meant to give you motivation to keep moving forward.”

  “It’s working! How do I get her back?”

  “I don’t know. I tried to save mine and accidentally shot her in the head with an arrow, so I may not be the best person to ask. The game told me where to go to save her though, it was a new quest.”

  Of course! I check my quest long and sure enough there is a new entry:

  Quest: Damsel in distress

  I select it and an arrow points the way. I turn to leave and Carlos says, “Are you sure you’re ready?”

  “It doesn’t matter if I’m ready, they have her right now. They could kill her before I even get there.”

  “That’s not how games work. They won’t do anything until you get there. It’s a scripted event. They won’t hesitate to kill her once you get there though, so I’ll ask again, are you sure you’re ready?”

  I think back to the small gaggle of waiters that almost killed me. “I need weapons.”

  “Ok, let’s deal with that. What level are you?”

  “I just turned 15.”

  That’s when I see the flashing notification. I click on it and it says:

  Party system now available.

  I stare at Carlos and an option appears above his head.

  Add new party member? 2 slots remaining.

  I should ask first, or at least give him a heads up, but for a moment I forget this is the real world and I hit yes just to see what happens. Carlos starts blinking rapidly. “Something’s happening! I think I joined the game.”

  “Oops, sorry about that, it asked if I wanted to add you. I should have checked first.”

  “Are you mad? Of course I want in on this. Let’s go kick some arse.”

  I go to leave when I notice his health bar. “We can’t. You’re still a level one. I can’t take you anywhere, you’re going to get murdered by every grunt we bump into. We’re going to have to get you levelled up and fast.”

  He smiles. “No problem. I found some pretty interesting exploits in the game. I’m curious to see if they work in the real world. Give me an hour.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  “Nope. The game shares EXP evenly between all party members. If you come it will take twice as long. You should focus on a different quest. If you want better weapons you need to find a blacksmith. In the game they have all the best stuff. I’ll warn you that you can’t just buy the legendary ones, the blacksmit
h always needs you to do some pointless side quest.”

  Just what I need, more quests to do. I’m already struggling to keep on top of the main quest. Still, I can’t rescue Sarah in my current state, the best piece of gear I have is a tatty purple hoodie. I need something offensive. Something other than Carlos.

  He says, “Meet back here in an hour?”

  “Are you sure you are ok to go out there alone?”

  He does a back flip and starts shadow boxing. “Yeah I think I can manage. I’ve had more practice in the game. See if you can get some good kit for me while you’re at it.”

  As Carlos is walking out the door I shout after him, “Where can I find a blacksmith?”

  “Where else. The Smoking Anvil.”

  ***

  The Smoking Anvil is an old mans pub. It smells like pipe smoke from ten feet away, even though smoking has long since been banned inside. The car park is full of beige Volvos and two seater sports cars, for those who are still working through their mid-life crisis.

  I crack the door open and peer inside. There is a full sized snooker table dominating the centre of the room. Golf is currently playing on the TV, which is tucked away in the corner. Music from the sixties is blaring out of an old fashioned jukebox. I spot at least a dozen kinds of local ales on tap.

  The moment I cross the threshold the patrons all stop and stare at me. An elderly gentleman approaches me. “Are you looking for your Dad sonny?”

  “No sir, I am after a blacksmith.”

  The jukebox skips with a scratch and everyone stops what they are doing. A large bearded gentleman steps out from the shadows. “What are you looking for?”

  I’m not really sure what the answer is when it’s a crowded pub. Presumably asking for high tech weaponry is out. I say, “I’ve heard you’re the man to see if I need to upgrade my equipment.” I throw in a wink.

  “Please stop whatever it is you’re doing with your face. I can’t help you right now, I have to go pick up my daughter Mary. Unless you can do it for me?”

  That sounds suitably pointless. “Of course. Where is she?”

  “She’s in the park just down the road. Bring her back here and I should have everything ready.”

  Simple enough.

  I turn on the speed shoes and within ten seconds I am in the park. There is a rugby game in full swing, catching the last of the sunlight. There’s a yoga club, fire breathers, even an impromptu archery class. A crowded park seems like a bit of a dangerous place to be shooting arrows, but who am I to argue.

  I spot the blacksmith’s daughter standing all alone. I know it is her because she’s as tall as he is and wearing a chain mail dress. She looks more than old enough to walk down the road to the pub. I stroll up to her and say, “Your dad sent me to get you.”

  She nods and I turn to leave, but she just stands there. I take a few steps, then I go back and say, “Just follow me, ok?”

  She does. Kind of. She makes it three steps before she veers off to the left for no apparent reason. She is walking at a snails pace, so it is not hard to catch up to her. I walk alongside her. “It’s actually more this way…”

  She ignores me and keeps walking, right into archery practice. An arrow misses her by an inch, landing in the centre of the target with a thwack. That’s when I realize what is going on. I’m in an escort mission. Escorts missions are the worst!

  She continues her glacial pace while the arrows rain down around us. I orbit her like a tiny planet, desperately trying to change her course away from the mortal danger. I can see a shot lining up and it’s going to catch her for sure, so I leap in front of it like her bodyguard. My hoodie absorbs most of the impact. I only lose a small chunk of health as the arrow clatters to the ground. That was close. Too close. I pull my hood up and dance around in front of her, blocking the shots of the archers, who seem perfectly content to keep loosing arrows despite someone clearly being in the firing line.

  We are almost in the clear when I take an arrow right in the knee. I hobble off and yank it out with a squeal while Mary stops to smell some flowers. I limp back into danger and drag her out of harms way. I shout, “Stay right there.” She stares at me, oblivious.

  I stop and take a look at my knee. It’s not bleeding, but it’s going to be sore tomorrow. I really need to find myself some legendary trousers, these level 2’s just aren’t cutting it. I poke my finger right through the hole.

  I look up to find Mary has gone again. That’s when I hear the commotion. She has wandered onto the rugby pitch. 30 angry guys are charging into each other in the mud, and right in the centre of it is Mary. She has sat down in the middle of the field for reasons known only to her. She starts making a daisy chain.

  I crank up my speed shoes and run out onto the pitch. I try to grab Mary and drag her away, but she is heavy and refuses to cooperate. That’s when I get tackled. A chunk of health disappears and I feel my teeth rattle as I hit the ground. The guy looks at me and says, “Are you mad? Get off the pitch!”

  I run up behind Mary and go full speed with my shoes, but she is hard to shift. It’s like trying to push a monster-truck up a hill. Mud and grass goes everywhere, but eventually we get to the other side. She suddenly picks up speed, right towards the fire breathers. There is ten feet of clear space either side of them, but Mary walks right down the centre. I try to shield her from as much of the flames as possible and by the time we are out the other side my hoodie is looking rather worse for wear. There are entire patches where no more purple is visible. I’m a charred mess.

  At least we only have yoga left to navigate. We are through the worst of it now.

  I’ve no sooner thought that than one of the yoga students pulls out a knife and charges right at us. I try to hit her, but she is very bendy and keeps dodging out the way. She takes a swing at Mary and I manage to get between them. I try to parry, but I muck up the timing again and take a knife between the ribs for my trouble. It takes a nasty chunk off my health and hurts a lot. The yoga ninja leaves it stuck there and pulls out another one from goodness knows where. While I am pondering that particular mystery her mates join in. I proceed to beat the crap out of seven women in yoga pants. This gets the attention of the rugby players, who don’t take too kindly to it. I have to turn on my turbo shoes and sprint in and out of danger, taking swings at guys the size of small lorries in between stealing food from a couple’s picnic basket. Their sandwiches are the only thing standing between me and certain death. The entire time this epic battle plays out, Mary continues her leisurely amble towards the Smoking Anvil.

  ***

  The door to the pub creaks open and I limp in. I hold it open for Mary, who casually strolls in and says, “Hey dad.”

  “Hey sweetie.” He turns to me. “Any trouble?”

  I’m busy removing a knife from my ribcage. When I pull it out there is a disturbing whistling sound coming from my chest. I use the knife to trim the feathers off the arrows that are sticking out of my back before I yank them out. I turn back to the blacksmith. “No, it was a walk in the park.”

  “Happy to hear it. I’ve got everything setup. As a thank you please help yourself to a free item.”

  He’s setup a makeshift stall in the corner of the pub. None of the regulars seem too fussed about the large pile of weaponry stacked on a table. I take a closer look and smile. There is all manner of bladed instruments here, long swords, broadswords, battle axes, even a hammer. The fancier ones have gold trim and jewel encrusted hilts. I check out the stats for each and do some quick comparisons. I’m about to pick a very shiny scythe when I notice the locked wooden box on the corner of the table. I turn to the blacksmith. “What is that?”

  He smiles. “That’s the mystery item. You don’t know what it is until you choose it.”

  I look at all the other weapons, so many murderous options. I should play it safe, go with what I know, optimize my offensive capability. That’s what a sensible player would do. I’m a sensible guy.

  “I’ll ta
ke the mystery box.”

  I have no idea why I did that! This better be something good. If it’s a KLOBB or something equally useless I’m going to be pissed.

  I pry open the lid and grin. It’s not at all what I was expecting.

  This changes everything.

  LEVEL 15: RAMPART

  I run back into Sarah’s office and do a double take when I see Carlos. The corner of my mouth curls up. “What on earth are you wearing?”

  He’s decked out in an entirely leather outfit, including leather trousers and what can best be described as a bodice. It’s decoratively embossed and would look more at home on a stout lady at a burlesque show. He completes the ensemble with a quiver full of arrows, a longbow as tall as he is, and a pointed hood. I can’t help but laugh. “Mate, you look ridiculous.”

  “Laugh all you want, this is decent gear! This chest plate is level 23.”

  “Yeah, and size double D. Does it come in mens?”

  He adjusts his bodice. “Piss off. I don’t care how it looks. It is the optimal combination based on my current inventory. Speaking of which, how did you get on at the blacksmith’s? Get anything good?”

  I point at my waist and his eyes grow wide. “No way! You have guns?”

  “I sure do. Check this out.” I quick draw both of them from their holsters and spin them around so the handles are facing Carlos. One is a stout black pistol, the other is a silver revolver with an extra long barrel. He takes them from me gingerly and examines them, reading the names etched into the handles. “Waterfall and Agile. Those are some pretty awful names for pistols. Have you tested them out yet?”

  “No, I didn’t want to run down the street randomly shooting people. I figured we could wait for a big battle. I’m still not entirely sure what shooting someone is going to do to them, I’m not sure if I want to find out.”

  “Only you could get two awesome weapons and then worry about the implications of using them. If you’re not going to use them, you’re still not going to be much use in a fight.”