by P. J. Frost
Suddenly, something in my memory clicked, and I opened my mouth to bellow, "I summon the Three Fists of the Titan!”
Three gargantuan fists made of pure crackling energy appeared out of thin air, slamming down to swat the attackers before they could reach me. All of them blinked scarlet, their faces contorting in surprise and panic. The Barbarian kept blinking, indicating that his health meter was in serious peril.
Good.
“Oh, you are gonna regret that one, Boomer,” the Hobgoblin promised.
“For the last time, I'm not a Boomer!” I protested. “I'm a goddamn Millennial, you punks!”
“Yeah, whatever, Boomer,” the Dwarf hissed. “We'll carve it on your freakin' tombstone.”
"Um, guys," the Barbarian said uneasily, "I'm not so sure this is a good idea... maybe we should just back off and leave him alone like he said..."
“Shut up, fart-licker, or we'll do you next,” the Hobgoblin replied nastily. “Let's get him!”
They all came at me again, though I couldn't help but notice that the Barbarian was moving a bit more slowly than his companions. My magic meter was down to less than half. If I took damage, even from one or two of them instead of all three, there was a good chance my health meter would expire.
So whatever I came up with, it had to be quick, and it had to be big.
“Star Shower of Solozon!” I announced, holding my hand out in a dramatic gesture. I desperately hoped I had gotten the name of the spell right – I knew I wouldn't get a second chance before they tore me apart.
I was relieved when everything around us briefly went dark, and a dozen shooting stars blazed from the heavens to rain down on them all. They each took multiple hits, and the Barbarian glowed bright red before disappearing completely. As he did... it was the damndest thing, but I was almost positive I could feel his experience points flowing into me, just like they would have if I had killed him in the actual game.
It was a strange sensation. Like the numbers on some scale inside of me were slowly climbing upward. Instead of making me feel heavier, though, they were making me feel more confident somehow, more sure of myself.
Now the other two players were steadily blinking red. And they were looking a lot less sure of themselves.
“Well?” I demanded. “You guys want to follow him, or are we done here?”
The Hobgoblin and Dwarf exchanged a frightened look, then got up and ran away as fast as they could.
“Yeah, that's what I thought.” Despite the amount of damage I had taken – and my overall disorientation at the bizarre nature of this dream I was stuck in – I was feeling mighty proud of myself for dispatching those insolent little monsters.
So what next? I thought. Normally, after a fight like that, I'd pull up my stat screen, select a Magic Potion and a Healing Potion, and use them to replenish my meters before proceeding. And I did have both of those potions in the game before I went to sleep. Does that mean I have them here too? Without access to the stat screen, how the hell would I even know?
Then it occurred to me that I might be thinking about all of this too literally.
Clearly, there were some areas where the rules of the game had adjusted themselves to integrate better with reality. The expressions and moving lips on the faces of the characters was one example. My ability to conjure spells from memory instead of selecting them with a cursor was another.
So if I thought about things in the context of all that, the next reasonable question would be: How am I carrying my items? (Or: Am I carrying my items?)
One of the first items that most players obtained when they started playing WarriorWorld was called a Bag of Cherishing. The idea behind it is that over the course of the game, players would realistically end up collecting far more objects than they could possibly carry: Weapons, armor, shields, scrolls, maps, talismans, keys, and so on. Any of these objects could end up coming in handy later on, so it wouldn't make sense for players to keep discarding them as they found new ones to pick up.
The Bag of Cherishing was a magical burlap sack. It looked plain on the outside, but the dimensions of the inside allowed people to carry about twenty times the amount of stuff they'd normally be able to accommodate.
It was a fairly common item, easy to find and cheap to purchase. Sydnar the Sorcerer certainly had one.
Theoretically, that meant I had one, too, right?
I opened my robes, searching myself. Sure enough, the plain-looking bag was hanging from the belt that was wrapped around my tunic. It was roughly the size of a large grapefruit, and the top of it was cinched shut with a length of leather cord.
Before I opened the bag, I couldn't help but stare at my own trim waistline. When was the last time I had been so thin?
If I ever was, I thought ruefully, it was probably back when I was even younger than the kids who just attacked me.
But the weirdest thing was, I didn't just see the change in my body. I felt it. I wasn't carrying all that extra weight anymore, and it made a huge difference. I was lighter on my feet. It was easier for me to breathe and move around. My knees and ankles weren't constantly aching.
As dreams went, this was probably the most surprisingly vivid one I'd ever had.
Heck, being thin (and powerful) was so much fun that I almost wanted it to go on forever.
Since I knew it wouldn't, though, I figured I may as well just do whatever I'd do if I were really in the game and let it all play out as it would.
I opened the sack and peered inside. The sight was even more astonishing than I had anticipated.
It wasn't that the inside of the bag was “big,” exactly. I mean, it was bigger on the inside than it looked on the outside, but it was still just a bit smaller than the average Hefty trash bag.
No, it was that everything that was tossed into the bag magically shrank to fit into it.
Not only that, but the bag automatically appeared to mount the items in neat rows along its inner walls, arranged and categorized in the same manner they'd have been displayed on the stat screen.
Which made sense, right? Because it would take an entire room (and not a small one) to actually hold all of my stuff, and reaching down into a space that was that big would have been impossible.
Again, I was on the verge of admiring the cleverness of whoever came up with all this... until I realized that it was technically me since it was my dream and everything in it was being generated by my own subconscious.
I missed my calling, I thought. Obviously, I should be working for Kolbe Tacker as a game designer, ha. Maybe when I wake up, I can see if his company is hiring. I'm about due for a new job anyway.
I knew it was a dumb idea since every programmer in the world would kill for a chance to work for Tacker and most of them were probably a hell of a lot more qualified than I was. Still, it was just a dream, right? I figured I could have any silly ideas I wanted, and no one would be around to make fun of me for them.
Anyway. Back to business, before more players came by and saw me as easy pickings.
I examined the bag's interior and found the two potion bottles I was looking for. I popped the lid off the round-bottomed red health bottle, wondering what it would taste like. Then I took a deep breath and tipped the contents into my mouth.
The flavor was slightly bitter but not wholly unpleasant. If anything, it tasted a little like red licorice. As soon as the contents were drained, I felt myself growing stronger and healthier. The pain I'd been feeling from the wounds I'd received went away. Again, it was almost like I could see the red meter filling up in my mind's eye.
Then the empty bottle vanished from my hand completely. Which made sense, since that was how things worked in the game – once they were used up, they disappeared.
“That's convenient,” I remarked out loud. “Beats having to look around for a trash can or recycling bin to toss it into, ha.”
Okay. So far, so good.
The Magic Potion was a neon green, like Listerine. The bottle was square
with thick, textured glass, like something expensive cologne would come in. I uncorked it and drank it down, detecting heavy flavors of aloe, menthol, and camphor. It had a more medicinal taste than the Health Potion.
But once again, my mind was filled with the image of my green Magic Meter being replenished.
And the bottle faded into nothingness before my eyes.
“Guess that'll fortify me against any other threats,” I told myself. “And the good news is, I've got three more Health Potions and five more Magic Potions. Those should keep me going for a while.”
...except what difference did it make how many I had? It was just a dream, so I'd be waking up before I had a chance to use them anyway.
Wouldn't I?
“Let's see how much more of this place I can explore before I wake up,” I went on. “Maybe it'll even give me some clues for what to expect when I log in again after work tomorrow.”
I closed the Bag of Cherishing and went on my merry way, whistling to myself.
Chapter Four
I wandered deeper into the jungles of the Valley of the Monsters. If I had really been playing the game, I'd probably have been moving more purposefully toward whatever the goal of the mission was, instead of just sauntering around aimlessly.
Then again, if I were really playing the game, Coral – or rather, “Quorull” – would have been right there with me.
And, unfortunately, Donal probably would have too.
With every step I took, my surroundings seemed to become even more detailed. It was looking less and less like a digitally-rendered game and more like an actual world, down to the veins in the leaves and the delicate hairs on the bodies of the insects crawling on them. I had to congratulate myself on having such a meticulous imagination, to be able to dream all of this.
At least, that was what I told myself for the first few hours.
The thing was, the dream didn't show any sign of ending. It just... kept going and going, even during long periods where nothing happened and I didn't encounter any other players or NPCs. When I did, they mostly just went about their business and ignored me. Frankly, the whole thing was almost starting to feel a little monotonous. Just step after step through the rainforest.
There was more to it than that, though.
This “dream” (and yes, I was starting to put that word into quotation marks in my head) was more structured and sustained than anything I had ever dreamed before. Putting aside the fact that I had never been a lucid dreamer before – in other words, I'd never been able to exert any actual control over myself and my actions while dreaming – my dreams were generally like most people's: They flowed and shifted in surreal patterns, with nothing really making sense or showing any continuity.
This experience was the absolute opposite of that. The longer I stayed in it, the more solid and consistent things felt.
This is all just too wild, I thought. I can't wait to tell Coral all about it when I get to work in the morning.
Except slowly, an uncomfortable thought was beginning to nag at me. One so disquieting that I was reluctant to put it into words, even in my mind.
What if it wasn't a dream?
I shook my head, trying to clear it. That was ridiculous. Of course it was just a dream.
Otherwise, what was the alternative?
I saw a Level Four Wood Elf Knight a short distance away and decided to try something. As I walked over to him, another question popped into my head: How did I know the levels of the players I encountered? Normally, if I were playing the game, that information would be hovering over the avatars' heads along with the gamer's handle.
But here, I just... sort of instinctively seemed to know the levels.
How?
“Hey!” I called out.
“Yeah, what's up?” the Wood Elf replied warily.
“It's all right, I promise I'm not going to mess with you or anything,” I assured him. “I just want to ask you some stuff.”
“All right, what?” He folded his arms, raising an eyebrow.
Well, that was a good question, wasn't it? What the hell was I even going to ask him in order to make any sense of what was going on?
“So okay,” I began uncertainly, “you're just, like... playing the game, right? WarriorWorld? Just like normal?”
He gestured around him. “Obviously.”
"And... for you, nothing weird is going on with that? Everything in the game is just like normal like it always is?"
"I mean, this quest is pretty new, of course," the Wood Elf pointed out. "It was just released a little while ago, and I only started playing it today. Why? Do you work for the designers? Are you some kind of quality control bot which goes around surveying people about how much they like playing?"
“No, I'm not a bot, I'm a real person,” I told him. “It's just that, um...”
“What? Come on, spit it out!” he insisted. “I only get an hour for my lunch break, and I'd like to spend it looking for the Empress, not answering a bunch of dumb questions!”
“Sorry,” I said quickly. “See, the thing is, the game isn't playing for me like it usually does. The whole thing is, um, different.”
“So?” He shrugged impatiently. “Try logging out, then logging back in again. Or else contact Customer Support. What the hell do you want from me?”
"That's just it. I can't do those things because... well, the game isn't actually on my screen like it normally is. It's all around me. I'm inside WarriorWorld."
He tilted his head, frowning. “What's that supposed to mean?”
I was starting to wish I was in one of those dreams where I'm walking down the street and suddenly realize I'm naked. It would have been less embarrassing. “I mean I'm not playing the game on my computer. I'm in the game. For real. Like... it's all around me, it's all I see.”
The Wood Elf stared at me for a long moment, then said, “Look, asshole. If you want to stay home all day doing drugs and playing video games, go for it. Just don't make it someone else's problem, all right?”
“I'm not on drugs!” I balked. “This is real, I swear! I need help!”
“Damn right you need help,” he grumbled, turning away. “Now piss off, I mean it.”
“Please!” I begged, following him. I wasn't sure why, but a spike of genuine panic was starting to stab through my heart. Suddenly, I didn't want to be in this dream anymore. At all. “I'm trapped! I honestly don't know what's going on, and it's scaring the shit out of me!”
“Buddy,” the Wood Elf seethed, “if you don't get the hell away from me right now, I'm gonna report you to the game's Help Center and have them delete your profile for harassing other players.”
I felt like a light bulb had just blinked on over my head. “Yes! That's right! Good idea! Go ahead and tell them about me, okay? Tell them everything I just told you! Make sure you get my handle right when you report me! It's Sydnar-underscore-Sorcerer-zero-seven-two-seven-eight-two! Maybe you should say it back to me, huh? Just to make sure you've got it right?”
“Get a life, nimrod!” he shot back, moving away from me even more quickly.
I was worried that he wouldn't bother reporting me after all. And if he did, what would happen then? Would I blink out of existence and wake up for real, or would I just be transported to some new dreamscape?
I didn't know, but at that point, I didn't much care either. Enough was rapidly becoming enough. I wasn't amused by being inside WarriorWorld anymore. If anything, I was starting to feel like an animal caught in a snare beyond its understanding... one that drew tighter the more I thrashed and fought it.
In desperation, I tried seeking out other gamers, pleading with them to believe my story and report me to the Help Center. But all I got were variations of the same interaction I'd had with the Wood Elf. They either made fun of me, cursed me out, or ignored me completely. A couple of them even tried to attack me, but those mostly seemed like half-hearted efforts to get me to go away.
So I kept walking. Deeper and deep
er into the jungle, until the foliage overhead grew so thick and twisted that the sunlight couldn't even make it down to the forest floor.
I started to notice thick, ropy, slimy-looking spider webs clustered in the branches around me. The strands were red and black. Some of them had the cocooned, desiccated remains of birds and animals in them... and not all the animals were small, either. I saw the dried-out husk of a fully grown deer, and a chill ran down my spine.
I had seen these things before, at various earlier points in the game. And I was well aware of what came next.
Sure enough, I heard a faint chittering sound above me and looked up just in time to see the creature that spun the webs skittering down from the trees right over my head.
It was an Aracula: A massive, bloated, blood-red spider with twelve spindly legs and a gnashing maw crammed with huge, crooked fangs dripping clear poison.
As a gamer sitting at my computer, I had thought the Araculas were among the game's coolest-looking creatures.
As a person standing a few feet away from a real one, I was about ready to scream like a girl and pee my pants... assuming I could pee in the game.
The hairs on the monster's body bristled, and once more, I was struck by how detailed this version of the “game” was. I had never been that imaginative, so how was my subconscious constructing all of this so meticulously – throwing in little touches that I never would have thought to add?
I didn't know, but I didn't have time to ruminate on it. Maybe getting killed in the game was a way to wake up, but even if that was true, I didn't want my cause of death to be an Aracula. That fate seemed far too gruesome.
I tried to back off in order to buy myself more time to summon a defense. But Araculas were incredibly fast creatures. It was practically on top of me, and when it snapped its jaws closed, I blinked red, feeling a quarter of my health meter disappear.
Damn.
“Cosmic Onyx!” I thundered.
Just as before, a bolt of black energy emanated from the stone, hitting the arachnid squarely in its throbbing thorax. I expected that to drive it back and damage it.
