by Ben Ormstad
In other words, playing as Daemonorg or Cyber-Mage, you’d have to already be playing a lot. I got that this probably was a huge game, but I would’ve preferred not knowing about any of these until they were available. Or maybe not. I couldn’t even make up my mind!
Yeah, whatever, but I don’t wanna be a medic, I thought and selected the Battle-Marine.
After all, I loved blowing shit up.
9
From the darkness of the loading screen I spawned in a whirl of blue light. As the electrical tentacles of light evaporated around me, I found myself sitting on cold stone tiles. Back against the wall, rugged brick edges poking my naked skin.
Flickering, orange light entered the room through bars in a small window on the closed door, looming at the far right side of the room.
Digging my palms into the ground, etching my fingertips into the seams connecting the stone tiles, I sat there – speechless – taking in the dense, dry, yet somehow humid atmosphere.
Not only was the extremely detailed, gritty realism of this cell-like room perfectly rendered, but I literally felt the soreness of my avatar’s muscles. While gawking at a pile of dirty bones by the wall ahead, I flexed my biceps and pecs, before tightening my stomach and legs. Wearing nothing but a kind of loincloth, I both felt the power of my character’s muscles and saw them contract and bulge as I tightened and loosened them.
I lifted my new powerful hands and opened and closed them, repeatedly. Made a fist, then stretched the fingers all the way out.
A stab of unbelief hit me in the solar plexus when I realized I could see every single wrinkle and hair on my shin. Flawless fingerprints, short cut fingernails marked by wear and tear from a hard life lived. Thick veins spread across my arm, splitting into multiple smaller ones on the back of my palms.
“This is surreal,” I said in a deep, hoarse voice sounding nothing like my own. Then I immediately marveled at the fact the developers had recreated the muffled, bassy feel of hearing one’s own voice from the inside of one’s own head.
“How is this even possible?” I said and was once again struck by the authenticity of the experience.
I watched the bone pile again, realized the dirt was soot – the bones lay in a bed of ash. This led me to notice the soot crawling like patchy tapestry up the wall behind it. Actually, ash littered the entire floor, and in each corner I saw bones lie in piles, all dirty and roasted.
A smell of burned wood, fabric and meat filled the dusty air. I winced at my own sharp sweat. Every sense perception seemed to be perfectly rendered straight to my brain… or however the developers pulled this off.
Getting to my feet, I sensed rather than saw the shape of an object laying in the middle of the room. The light entering through the bars in the door window flew right above the object and cloaked it in dark hues of the surrounding shadows. Still, I estimated it to be the size of a regular stationary computer. Staying in the shadows, I closed in on the object and picked it up.
A message written in neon-green light appeared in the top center part of my vision, coupled with a short blip-sound:
+1 Storage – Small Backpack (+8 Item Slots // Req. 2 Item Slots if unused)
Grants the ability to carry items, weapons, tools – whatever, really.
Nice! A leather backpack. Solid build. I loosened the straps, unhooked the hatch, and opened it. Pleasantly surprised, I grabbed the apple-sized red box with an engraved, white cross on top. A soft, red glow emanated from it and lit up my fingers. A deep warmth soothed my palm.
+1/4 MedKit (req. 1 Item Slot)
Restores 25% HP to Target Character.
I was happy to see ‘[…] to Target Character’, since it meant I could use the MedKit on anyone I met, unless any special-case rules prohibited it.
As I put on the backpack, four nozzle-looking things appeared from the stone tile underneath it. One nozzle protruded from each of the tile’s four corners.
The smell of gasoline hit me as heatwaves whirled from the nozzles, and I understood what must’ve happened with all the soot-stained, ash-bathing skeletons surrounding me.
But where did the gas come from, and what ignited it when these poor bastards were still alive? Also, the backpack didn’t seem burned, which had to mean whoever placed it here had done so after the inferno raged. Right?
Unless Lily and the developers placed it there to help me get started? Or, I thought and chuckled, maybe it just randomly spawned out of nowhere.
Somehow, though, the backpack had stopped the gas from leaking into the room. Well, so it seemed, because now the stink of gasoline rapidly thickened and intensified.
I need to get the hell outta here. NOW.
Bone fragments and cracked stone tiles dug into the soles of my feet as I moved swiftly – yet stealthily – toward the door, avoiding the exposing beams of light coming from the adjacent room. Holding my breath, I lined up in front of the door frame, inching closer until I could peek through the bars.
Initially, all I saw was a large, burning torch cup hanging from the ceiling outside the door, sending flickering light across the corridor, continuing beyond my current vantage point. A few meters down to the right, opposite wall, three cloaked beings had gathered in front of another door that looked like mine. Cramped window with bars – Check! A sad fucker peeking out from the darkness inside the cell – Check!
Potentially, that sad fucker could become my best friend. Or, in the best worst case scenario, it could be my least evil enemy.
Hidden in the cell’s darkness, I only made out a high-pitched female voice. Fingertips curled around the window bars. Reflections from the torch cup flame outside her cell flickered in barely visible, squinting eyes.
I heard nothing specific the cloaked ones were saying, either, but their voices sounded low-pitched and scratchy. Not aggressive in tone, per se. Merely insisting. For every word spoken, I sensed a vibration from their voices reverberating through the atmosphere. I somehow knew I needed to follow the vibration deeper in order to correctly read their true intentions – and so I did.
Personal Specialty discovered!
SENSING
Current intensity: 5%
Woah, that’s awesome. I had not expected any abilities to become available so quickly.
I focused harder to extract information from their interaction, but to no avail. It felt impossible like trying to wiggle the memory of an amputated limb. Thus, as of now, I had no idea. They looked fishy as fuck, to say the least.
I assumed they wanted to take advantage of her. Whether a real human being was playing the character, or she simply was an NPC, I didn’t know. And the creepy cloak-wearers? In this world, I couldn’t have a clue less. In fact, they all seemed pretty damn sentient to me.
Trying to out-think my situation, I clutched the backpack straps and grit my teeth. I threw a glance back at the nozzle-things in the middle of the cell. The gasoline stench seemed to rise like water, slowly filling every square inch. Luckily, I saw no sources of fire inside the cell. I didn’t even dare consider what would happen when the gas reached the door window, seeped out through the bars, and potentially got ignited by the torch flame outside.
Forcing myself to let it go for another few seconds, I turned my focus back to the cloaked figures in the corridor. Perhaps I could just bust through the door, not give a shit and kick some cloak-creeper ass! Then again, only wearing a paper thin loincloth and a backpack, it probably wouldn’t be smart. Also, I did not know how pain would feel.
One of the deep, hoarse voices shouted. I sensed a vibrational spike of focused willpower from the cloaked being, who lifted his hands. Shaking and murmuring ineligible sounds, his movements stiffened for a second. Flames suddenly flashed between his fingers. The two other cloaked ones backed away as he parted his hands and pulled them further and further apart, increasing the size of the ball of flames.
When the fireball reached the size of a grown man, it began extending like a tunnel toward and through the cell door �
�� without harming the surroundings. Still, I felt the heat from it all the way here, warming my face. A reflective surface expanded at the inner edges of the burning tunnel, filling it like a glass door.
Out through the peculiar portal-tunnel, she came. At first I only saw the black, thick-soled boots, then legs clothed in patchy, grey pants appeared, before the entire woman stepped out of the burning tunnel. Looking unexpectedly evil with long eyebrows pointing upward, she grinned while biting the tip of her tongue. The tunnel vanished behind her.
She smoothed her short, black hair back over her head. Then, after looking from side to side, she gestured for the three cloaked ones to come closer.
After being able to sense what kind of vibrations emanated from them, I found it interesting that I sensed nothing at all from her. I tried harder, but nothing.
Their heads together, whispering, she placed her hand above each one of their heads. Bright, red light flashed and encapsulated them for a mere second.
Someone shouted somewhere in the corridor. This immediately got a reaction from the woman and cloaked ones. More shouting came from somewhere else, followed by cracking sounds of what I suspected was kicking at doors. Most likely from other prison cells.
I wanted to believe these people were freedom fighters working to rescue me and the other prisoners. Because, surely, none of us – least of all me – were guilty of anything at all. My only crime was spawning here, with no knowledge of why. Had Lily mentioned something about the randomness at play when starting a new game? I couldn’t remember. The experience was so incredibly real it seemed to cloud my recollection of what happened prior to getting in the VR-pod.
The muffled sound of a silenced gun cut my thought process short. I stiffened. Eyes wide open. Ears scanning like radars. I couldn’t see the cloak-wearers or the woman anymore – only heard footsteps and people screaming. More door-kicking and hitting.
Another muffled shot.
Closer.
This time I heard gurgling, before a thump-sound followed, as if someone dropped a big, stuffed sack on the floor.
Fuck. How long did I have before whoever pointed the gun arrived at my cell? As I felt sweat trickle down my face, I turned and scrutinized the room once more.
Brick walls. No windows. No major cracks exposing structural weaknesses. The ceiling, equally solid. Hopeless. My heart throbbed so hard I literally felt my character’s broad chest rumble with each beat. A slight ringing in my ears had accompanied the increase of stress. Claustrophobia. I tried to remind myself this wasn’t actually real, but the experience felt so authentic my brain couldn’t differentiate it from the real world. In fact, to me, right now, nothing was more real than this.
I jumped at the next muffled gunshot smacking through the corridor. It almost sounded like a high-pitched, electrical whip. Did it come from the adjacent cell?
If I don’t move, I die. Not knowing what to do, I started kicking away the soot-filled bones and ashes laying everywhere, hoping perhaps a hidden hatch would let me escape the madness.
I covered the small space by the time the next, and – I knew for sure now – the last silenced gunshot cracked, before it was my turn. Holding my breath in order to not breathe in the gasoline-filled air, almost in a frenzy, I snatched up what had been someone’s arm. My strength enabled me to easily break the bones into a knife-sized, pointy and deadly piece.
+1 Weapon – Makeshift Dagger (req. 1 Item Slot)
A lightweight stabbing weapon of low quality. Probably better than nothing.
With the bone fragment in hand, I silently merged with the shadows by the wall closest to the door. Made sure to pick the side where the hinges hung and leaned as close to the wall I could. My hands shook from tensed muscles, ready to strike.
Accompanying the footsteps, I heard a screeching noise, like a blade of some sort scratching across the wall outside. My neck hairs stood stiff. As the sounds closed in, someone else ran past my cell door, swiftly followed by another silenced gunshot on the left side, next to my cell. A scream borne of pain sent chills up my spine. The next shot ended it.
Not only did I hear the hissing breathing suddenly coming from the window in my door, but I also sensed the intention of the one watching through the bars. Unsettling vibrations emanated from someone with a predatory disposition.
Clutching the bone fragment so hard the roughness tore into my palms, I held my breath.
Metal knocked three times on the iron bars.
“I know you’re in here,” a low-pitched, scratchy voice said.
Three more knocks. Each knock sent shivers through me.
“You smell that?” the voice continued. “Not only is it flammable, but highly poisonous. Especially for Godmadrigans. And we both know that’s what you are – I can smell you a mile away.” He laughed.
Further down the corridor more shots whipped the air.
“How the demon-bastards captured Ahlyana, we don’t know, but we’ve freed her now. The rest of you, on the other hand… well, let’s just say we appreciate the daemonorgs for practically gift wrapping you, and leaving you stuck in these cells for us to easily exterminate like the filthy parasites your kind is. Now, show yourself.”
In your dreams, asshole, I thought, gritted my teeth till my gums hurt.
I heard a grunt, or maybe a sigh, and the lock clicked. The hinges squeaked as the door swung open. A gush of air from the corridor made swirls in the gasoline-filled atmosphere. The flickering light from the torch cup spread out and illuminated the ashes, the soot, the bones, but not me, hiding behind the door, in the shadows.
Dirt crunched under his shoes as he stepped inside, giving me a subtle sense of his weight. My warrior character’s weight was definitely heavier than him. His cloaked form drew a silhouette in the stream of moving light. Long, slim, seemingly gliding into the room.
I took a cautious step, sneaking ever closer to the edge of the open door. Just as he passed it, something cracked under my feet. He turned so quickly it seemed like the rendering engine had skipped multiple frames. He suddenly faced me, and meeting his eyes – those iris-less, red, terrifying eyes – in a face hidden by the hood’s black shadow, I gasped at the sense of malevolence that came from him.
“There you are,” he hissed and pointed the gun at me. “Let’s see if you–”
His sentence was cut off as I ignored the terror and lunged myself at him. Extending my arms upward, at an angle, I smashed into his weapon hand and sent the gun flying. We both staggered backwards and lost our footing. I landed on top of him. His head smashed against the stone tiles.
“Where am I?” I asked in the deep voice I hadn’t gotten used to yet. The taste of gasoline spread in my mouth like a layer of oil. Even this close, I wasn’t able to see his face – only the red eyes floating in a sea of darkness. Ramming his throat with my left elbow, and pushing the jagged edge of the makeshift dagger into his temple with my right hand, I repeated: “Where am I?”
Without responding, his eyes intensified until the redness almost blinded me. Before I could wrap my mind around what was happening, he dissolved. I fell to the floor on my knees and elbows. The next second I gasped for air as the weight of him appeared on my back. His arm coiled around my neck like a boa constrictor, squeezing my Adam’s apple into the back of my throat. My vision went black as my pupils rotated up and inward.
-5 HP
“Doesn’t matter,” he whispered in my ear. “You’ll be in Hell in no time.”
-5 HP
Excruciating pain exploded in my throat. Consciousness slipping, I knew I had one chance to change the outcome of the situation before losing myself.
-5 HP
I gripped the bone-dagger and shot my hand toward his head, close to my ear. I swung as hard as I could. For a microsecond the weapon struck solid surface, before it penetrated and slid deep
into his skull. I frantically repeated the thrusting movement multiple times, each action breaking another part of his head. Blood sprayed
in all directions, covering my head, the floor, my hands. I kept stabbing mechanically until his limbs and body went limp.
Killed 1 Celestial Cloaker – Level 3
+30 XP
Grunting, I pushed the dead body off me, heaved for breath and couldn’t believe I had actually just destroyed a Level 3 anything. And what the hell was a Celestial Cloaker, anyway? Still breathing heavily, I ran my fingers across my throat to check for serious injury.
My heart almost stopped when the next notification appeared as glowing, red text in the top part of my vision.
You are Poisoned!
Exposed to unknown airborne substance.
Beware: Death by poison strips you of all XP, equipment and weapons gained while being poisoned.
T minus 02:59:36 until Dead.
10
What kind of shit is this? I’m lethally poisoned after barely 10 minutes of starting my first game?
I was shocked.
Okay, take it easy. There has to be some kind of antidote somewhere close. Right?
I heard voices in the distance, echoing through the corridor, and I knew it was the two remaining cloakers. Rapid footsteps. How long did I have? Half a minute? Without wasting a second more on meaningless mental churning, I jumped over to the dead cloaker’s body, tracked the zig-zag trail in the ashes on the floor until I found the gun. I picked it up and inspected it in the light from the torch.
Smooth, reflective metal. Considering the luminescent, red lights being emitted from multiple glass-covered slits where I expected the magazine to be, I supposed it was powered by some kind of electric current. Maybe it doesn’t fire regular bullets at all, I mused when information about the weapon printed across my field of vision:
