by Ben Ormstad
Simply. Not. True.
I now fully understood the grave warnings Virtuality Inc. posted on their website. The human subconscious didn’t stand a chance against an experience as lifelike as this. If amnesia hit me right now, and I forgot my real life, this would be Reality. I’d have no way in hell of telling it apart from regular life. In fact, it looked more and more like purgatory every passing second. The only thoughts my subconscious delivered my conscious mind was: This is real. This is happening. Oh, God. I’m gonna die. This is it. It’s over!
“Gra-bri, gli’akh zi fokk!” The daemonorg guards trampled past my cell. Just as I assumed they would move on, a sneaky fucker stuck his horned head in. Pupils glowing yellow in the shadowed face.
“Zpa’ogg,” he said, raised the gun and… his upper body got scorched as I pulled the trigger on my Celestial pistol – a tingling buzz flowed through it and heated my palm. The guard lost his footing and stumbled into the cell. Unreal, green flames bit into his tunic and devoured it instantly. I fired two more rounds that cracked in the air, for a split second lighting the room in a green glow from the electrical projectiles.
“Aaagghh,” he growled as his body spasmed and fell silent.
Killed 1 Daemonorg Grunt – Level 2
+20 XP
The voices from the other guards intensified. Thick-soled footsteps increased in volume. Not bothering to loot the dead guard, I kneeled by the body and aimed at the doorway. Held the pistol steady and popped the next bastard the second I registered movement outside. I hit his gun hand. It twitched, the fingers involuntarily stretched open. He lost the weapon and jumped out of sight, screaming.
The rest didn’t follow. Instead, they kept out of sight and spoke in their unknown language. Planning their next move.
So, you do have some basic intelligence, eh? I thought and realized I’d have to play it smart. These weren’t your garden-variety, braindead Doom-imps.
“Hey,” I said. “Wait a minute, will ya?”
They stopped talking amongst themselves. Raspy breathing filled the ensuing silence.
“I… have no idea why I‘m here,” I said and suddenly noticed the consumables HUD-layer had disappeared. Did that mean HUD-elements automatically vanished when tense situations happened, to keep the players focused on the action? No, I probably have to intend for it to stay there no matter what happens.
“Bizg af’duk,” one of them grunted, no doubt directed at me.
“Uhm, do you speak English?” I said and, rather than bringing the consumables-HUD back up, I intended to use them.
Nothing happened.
“Hello?” I continued. “English, anybody?”
The guard that had been screaming after I shot his hand, stopped and said: “Az-beh, fut’k!”
Okay, what if I specify the number I want to use? I thought and intended to use exactly 25 consumables.
Sound effects of someone chewing and swallowing was followed by a notification.
+25 HP
Great, my health is back to 100. In other words, as long as I was specific, I could use items without bringing up the inventory. Handy.
A low sound like two key chains rattling against each other, came from the guards.
Next thing I knew, what looked like a grenade sailed in through the door. It collided with the stone-tiled interior wall, shifted direction, hit the floor and bounced right at me.
Adrenalin spiked in my veins. The first instinct was to run like crazy out of the cell, but that’s exactly what they wanted. Instead, I kicked the grenade toward the entrance and said: “Good talk!”
But it wasn’t a good talk. At all.
Unbeknownst to me, my character’s aim sucked. Rather than lobbing the grenade smoothly out through the doorway, it missed by almost ten inches too far left! Dumbstruck, I watched it smack into the door panel, then rotated upwards, bumped into a deep crack in the concrete ceiling, and finally came flying back at me.
I had nowhere to escape. This is impossibly ridiculous. In a last, hopeless maneuver I jumped sideways, the opposite direction of the little shitball.
The world exploded while I was still in the air.
12
Time slowed. The pressure propelled my body sideways, headlong toward the stone wall at the far side of the cell. Everything rumbled violently. Intense heat enveloped my body as flames and sparks thrust in all directions. Unable to stop the forward motion, my head got blasted into the wall. A loud crack reverberated in my ears. Like a ragdoll my body fell to the floor, limp, and barely conscious of the flashing health notification.
-90 HP
Silence, except the ringing in my ears. Thick, black smoke whirled around me. A smell of burned metal, fabric and… flesh. In the following seconds, jagged fragments of stone and concrete crashed into me, stealing more health.
-3 HP
Even more pieces of rubble fell from the ceiling.
-2 HP
Through eyes now glitching like a computer screen with a faulty connection, I saw wet redness spread across the hard stone surface my face mushed against. I coughed blood. My back twitched involuntarily and I couldn’t feel my legs. Tried turning my head, but my neck didn’t move. It probably broke when I hit the wall. Through the ringing in my ears I made out the guards’ guttural voices. Soon they’d enter and finish the job.
I groaned at the pain radiating across my body. Couldn’t decide whether it was a good or bad thing I used the consumables just in time before the grenade came flying. If I hadn’t, I’d be dead. Only 5 HP remained.
I can’t believe this, I thought, forcing my fingers to curl around the pistol grip. What’s the point of simulating such excruciating pain? I almost begged the game to throw more wall pieces at me and end the misery. I’d rather respawn. No, wait. I still have the 1/2 MedKi–
I didn’t finish the thought before a raspy voice behind me said: “Zik ba’ok.”
Rubble crunched under thick boot soles as they invaded the cell. They gathered around me, breathing heavily.
Powerful fingers clasped around the backpack I still wore and hoisted me up. I heaved for breath as the pain of my body getting straightened out struck like lightning bolts through every limb and joint. Not able to lift my head, it merely hung limp, chin resting on my chest, while I watched the creature’s yellow irises through my muddy vision.
When I saw his scorched arm, I forced my lips to form a smile. “I got y–” I said, but coughed blood. Red drops plastered across his face. Still forcing the smile, I tried again: “I got you… good.” Saying the final word, I pushed the pistol barrel into his stomach. Pulled the trigger as fast as I could. The electrical projectiles cracked loudly and scorched his upper body. Grey smoke smelling of burned meat erupted from the crispy wound.
He growled and let me go as the two others grabbed me from each side. One of them ripped the gun out of my hand while the second guard kicked my legs from underneath me.
-2 HP
Face yet again planted on the ground, knowing full well only 3 HP remained, I closed my eyes and accepted failure. I’ll be right back, bitches. Count on it.
But they didn’t kill me.
Grabbing one damaged foot each, they dragged me out of the smoking cell. My fingers dug uneven tracks in the black, roasted floor tiles. I tried to turn around, but failed. “What the fuck?” I said hoarsely. “Let me die, assholes!”
“Fre-gru ik’bah, zipp,” said one and kicked me in the side, but not hard enough to make me lose health.
“What are you planning to do?” I said and coughed blood again.
Okay, if I can use the MedKit, I’ll be strong enough to get away. And so I intended to bring up a HUD-element representing the MedKit. It didn’t pop up. While trying to understand what I did wrong, I had to soften the blow from the sharp edges of the steps up the stairs to the double door. My dry lips stretched in a grimace. Each step upwards smashed into my elbows, leaving a trail of blood glued to the rough-cut stone edges. Considering the resultin
g pain, it was a mystery why the remaining HP didn’t drain away. Either this Battle-Marine character was so incredibly rough, buff and tough, as said by General Jack ‘Kill-Em-All’ Johnson, that I couldn’t die from wounds like these – or these daemonorg fuckers had placed me under some kind of spell to stop me from dying. And therefore preventing me from respawning with full health and zero poisoning, I thought grimly.
We reached the top of the stairs. I counted myself lucky for not getting my teeth crushed on any of the steps. Rather, my elbows felt broken, as if the bones themselves were partly pulverized.
The guards stopped at the double door’s threshold and dropped my legs to the ground. Still not able to move them, I instead tried lifting my upper body by pushing myself up with my hands. Impossible. It seemed the very rotating ability of my arms had vanished because of the brutal treatment of my elbows. As a last resort, I willed the full inventory to open. And it did. Sort of. I viewed it, but all the items were greyed out.
No, goddamn it! I need the MedKit. Please!
Hopelessness devoured me slowly. Nothing worked anymore. Still, I remained stuck in this sack of digital flesh. Fully conscious, fully aware.
The guards snatched my feet again and dragged me over the threshold and into a narrow hallway. Unknown, engraved symbols and letters flickered in the reddish light cast by torches hanging from the ceiling. Recognizing the bull symbols with demon heads I’d seen carved on the door in the waiting room, I screamed: “Lily!” The sound bounced back at me from the cramped walls. “Lilyyyy!” I yelled again, lungs aching. “Where the fuck are you, you lying daughter of a biiiitch?! You said you’d guide and help me!”
The daemonorgs shook my feet to get me to shut up. “Pleh kah’dji zeh, briq!”
Upon hearing the bizarre language again, seeing their ugly faces, and not being able to move any of my limbs anymore, I suddenly laughed. Out of nowhere. The dam burst. Shit was too ridiculous.
I laughed like I’d never laughed before. A fanatical, roaring laughter.
Who in their right mind paid money to experience something like this?
ME! my thoughts replied in the mocking voice of The Joker. I am the lunatic paying for this beautiful experience!
“Aaaahahahah,” I laughed hysterically. “This better be so fucking worth it!”
Growing tired of my craziness, the guards threw my feet back on the ground and kicked me. Hard. Multiple times. Their yellow irises stung like spikes in my vision. I flip-flopped between laughing and coughing up blood. Didn’t feel pain anymore. Everything was numb. The kicking rolled my body uncontrollably around on the stone floor. Dirt rubbed off on my face, some of it crept into my already semi-blind eyes. One of the backpack straps tore loose, and the pack landed beside me.
“Zakfri, jig’ba brru!” a deep voice grunted from the opposite side of the hallway. Both guards stopped kicking me and turned toward it. I couldn’t move, but out of the corner of my eye I made out a shadowy silhouette in a stream of white light. The way the guards answered, I understood by the tone of their voices they were excusing their behavior. Perhaps they weren’t supposed to treat me like a sack of shit.
As the silhouette’s deep voice rumbled once more, I realized my backpack was lying right next to me. Inching toward it, I twitched my shoulder enough to move my mouth up to it. Clenched my teeth around the top. My bodyweight did the rest as I let my head fall to the floor, pulling the latch open. As this was a game, none of the items were actually in there. Thus, I had no way of physically sorting through them and picking anything out. Rather, you willed out the item you needed, and then it would manifest in your hands. I understood this now. I had to physically hold whatever I needed and have the backpack within reaching distance.
And so, while the daemonorgs were busy discussing and waving their hands in the air, I stared into the backpack and opened the Inventory.
Like a flower sprouting from a crack in solid concrete, a warm flush of joy flared up in my chest as I used the 1/2 MedKit and equipped the second Celestial pistol.
13
The notification brightened my existence with the certainty that using the MedKit worked:
+50 HP
Immediately after, my vision became crystal clear. My neck, arms, hands, legs and feet healed instantaneously, flooding my body with an intense feeling of physical delight as if each and every limb orgasmed at the same time. In a way, I was reborn while being alive. I couldn’t help but let out a moan of pleasure as life-giving energy spread from inside my chest area and all the way out the tips of my fingers and toes.
A split-second later I realized the daemonorg guards had ceased talking behind me. I was already gripping the Celestial pistol I had stored in my backpack – green-glowing and ready. Sucking in air with my rejuvenated lungs, I kicked off the ground and rolled over my right shoulder. Rough stone tiles dug into my skin as I landed on my back. Rotating to face them, I steadied the gun with both hands and hammered the trigger. The air cracked as electrical projectiles sped through the hallway, colored the engraved symbols on the walls green as they passed. The silhouetted figure vanished in the thick flow of light from the open doorway, but the two guards didn’t react quickly enough. Their yellow eyes opened in shock as hungry electricity ignited their tunics, scorching the fabric like dry leaves when lightning strikes.
“Graaaawh!” one of them cried. He tumbled to the ground next to the other one, who spasmed by the current running through his body. Half burned and clutching his damaged upper arm with his good hand, he reached for his weapon.
Too late.
I was on my feet and ran toward him. Even though my character still wasn’t a good enough shooter to hit perfectly from this distance, I kept hammering the trigger. Having a lousy 3% proficiency in my Ranged Weapon ability wouldn’t stop me from paying these fuckers back in full for what they’d just put me through. They could have killed me, let me respawn, and I’d be on my way. But nope, not these assholes.
Again and again I pulled the trigger, like a fidget cube I couldn’t get enough of. Projectiles zipped through the air and dug into the walls surrounding the second guard. Wide-eyed, he stared from the cloud of smoking bullet holes around him and then back at me.
“Now we’re even,” I said through gritted teeth and squeezed the trigger one last time. The pistol twitched in my hands – glowing red from the nearly empty energy clip. His yellow irises blackened as the electrical fire engulfed the twisted face.
For good measure I emptied the clip in both guards when I arrived at their feet. For a moment I watched them. Charred. Lifeless. Dead. Acrid smell stung in my nostrils.
Killed 2 Daemonorg Grunts – Level 2
+40 XP
The Celestial pistol felt scolding hot against my palm after the shooting. Smiling, I inspected it. Now empty, it didn’t even glow red anymore. I fetched a new energy clip and refilled it. Watched the satisfying light transition from red and blue to green and made a mental note of only having one refill left.
Battle-Marine Ability Increased!
+2% Ranged Weapons
Hah, so it paid off to fire like a madman, I thought and delayed searching the dead guards until I found out what happened to the silhouetted figure. Gripping the pistol tightly, I pointed it straight ahead and pushed on to the bright doorway. Leaned up against the door panel, squinted past it into the white light.
“Hmh,” I said as I realized the light came from fluorescent fixtures in the ceiling. Their quiet buzz blended with the low fluttering of torch flames behind me. The fluorescent light spread across the white, featureless walls like in a medical clinic – all the grittiness of the prison area gone. Yeah, not strange at all. I aimed the gun in front of me, keeping it leveled with both hands. Slowly stepped over the threshold and into the new corridor. Checked to my right just long enough to register the dirty stone door at the far end – and reckoned it led to another prison floor – before turning to check my left…
The thick sole of a big, black boot
appeared out of nowhere and kicked me in the face. Crushing pain exploded as it bashed my nose in. I staggered backwards, barely held on to the pistol, and hit the back of my head against the door panel.
-8 HP
Another daemonorg. No doubt the owner of the silhouette. This one also had a bald head with protruding horns, but the slightly feminine eyes and visible eyelashes revealed she was a woman. I glimpsed her devilish smile before she kicked me in the stomach. Ground slipped from under me, I lost balance and tumbled back into the grimy hallway I just came from.
-5 HP
I quickly backed up further, stepped over the dead guards, and dodged the third kick she thrust at me. She wasn’t able to stop the built-up momentum. The leather boot flew past me, which I turned to my advantage by kicking her standing leg. She lost her footing, slid on the bodies on the floor and landed on her ass.
“Where am I?” I said, breathing heavily and pointing the gun at her. “Answer me!”
She curled up against the door panel. Snarled like a beast and bared a row of razor-sharp teeth behind full lips.
“Why did you stop them from hurting me?” I said, but jumped to the side as her hand shot out from her waist, holding a gun. Bullets blasted into the wall next to me, ripping out pieces of stone. I returned fire and ended her existence with electric bolts.
Killed 1 Daemonorg Grunt – Level 2
+20 XP
I didn’t understand it. She stopped the guards, but wouldn’t talk to me? Perhaps it had nothing to do with me. Maybe they were talking about something else entirely. Fucking incomprehensible demon language. Still not knowing whether this quest was pre-planned just for me, or if I’d merely randomly spawned here, I had no idea if anything was related to me at all. For all I knew, the cells could have been filled with prisoners the daemonorgs caught while raiding a town, and I popped in just as the cloakers rescued that woman. Ahlyana. Whoever she was.
