by Deck Davis
The water splashed again, and then in another place. Two more beetles crawled out of the pond, one with an orange marking, another with yellow. Okay, now I understood the markings. These were in-game clues about the strength of the beetles in case you didn’t have time to stay still long enough for their stats to display. I stared at them just long enough for my holo-menu to scan them, and I received little text boxes showing their stats.
Water Scuttler – Lvl 4
34 / 34 HP
Water Scuttler – Lvl 3
27 / 27 HP
Water Scuttler – Lvl 1
15 / 15 HP
Phew. They were low-level NPCs. If I got in range they’d likely attack me, but I doubted they could do much damage. Not only were they low-level, but their bulky black shells limited their movement. I could dance around them, even if they were up close. Avoiding them would be a cinch. Did I actually want to avoid them? Looking and listening around me, it was clear that I was alone in this part of the jungle. Just me, the birds, the poisonous frogs, and the black scuttlers. This was a perfect chance to score a level-up, even if I had to do it with my fists.
“Guys, I’m here,” said Eddie. “It’s like some temple or something. Elder Arin would have the time of his life here. Place looks empty. I’ll head inside.”
“Wait for the others,” I told him. “Glora and Rynk, you nearly there?”
“Gimme a few secs,” said Rynk. “Found some loot.”
“On my way,” answered Glora.
I looked at my map. I was about five minutes away from the others. If I ran, maybe I could make it there in four.
Then I looked back at the scuttlers, who seemed to be lazing by the side of the pond, and I made my mind up.
“I’ll be a little longer. Just stay out of sight, and don’t get into a fight. And if you loot anything in that place…don’t hog it.”
“Sharing’s caring,” said Eddie. “Got it.”
I turned my attention back to the scuttlers. This would be easy. Even with my fists, I reckoned I could do some damage. Between five or eight hitpoints per punch. And the beauty was, punching wasn’t much of a stamina drain given that it was the most basic attack in the game.
Okay. Let’s do this. Time for some bug catching. I crossed the jungle ground. It was only when I was ten meters away that one of the scuttlers, the yellow-marked one, turned to face me. Its antennae stretched out in front of its face and vibrated, as if it were trying to sense who, or what, had approached it. The other two hadn’t moved yet. The yellow scuttler started padding along toward me. Its legs were so delicate that it barely made a sound as it approached, save for cracking the odd twig. As it got closer, I saw how impossibly black and shiny its shell-like skin was. It was as though someone had hardened pure oil and sculpted it into a beetle-shaped statue. When it was a few feet away from me, little pincers unfolded in front of its face. It leaped toward me, pincers out. It was so slow that I sidestepped with ease. Now that I was beside it, I clenched my fist and punched it, connecting on its back with a clean hit.
1 HP dealt!
Damn it! I drew my fist back. My knuckles stung. I was certain that my punch had hurt me more than the scuttler. I hadn’t expected its skin to be so hard.
The insect turned around with the grace of a truck, and it was easy for me to strafe around, keeping its click-clacking pincers away from my tender areas. I needed to hit it again, but the shell was clearly no way to do it. Instead, I put my foot under its body and kicked upward, flicking the insect over onto its back. Now we were talking. The scuttler lay on its back on the forest floor. It tipped from side to side, trying to move with enough force to get upright again. No matter how much it tried, it was stuck. Seeing it so helpless, I almost felt sorry for it. It reminded me of a pet turtle Bill used to have before he lost it. Lucas used to pick it up and put it on its back and then just leave, and the poor thing would be stuck until either me, Bill, Mom, or Dad came across it.
But this wasn’t a beloved, now-missing, family pet. This was a jet-black scuttler that would stick its pincers in my belly without a thought. Besides, I needed to level up. Morals were a luxury, and a level-zero abermorph couldn’t afford to get all teary-eyed about a computer-generated insect. I raised my foot above the beetle. I aimed for its exposed belly. Then I brought it down with as much force as I could.
16 HP dealt!
The scuttler’s belly made a sickening squelch when I flattened it. Yellow ooze dribbled out onto the mud. The scuttler’s legs flailed once, twice, and then stopped. Its antennae drooped and then slapped against the ground.
34% Exp gained!
[66% until level 1]
Now we were talking! The lower your level, the easier it was to level up, so getting to level one would be a walk in the park (or jungle, in this case). With each level, though, the difficulty of the NPCs you had to defeat to level up increased exponentially. If I’d fought the scuttler at level four, I would have had to kill a hundred of them to get close to leveling.
Two more scuttlers were all it took to get off the mark. I lured them out one by one, flipped them onto their backs and then ended their existence, netting thirty-seven percent experience for the orange scuttler and thirty-nine percent for the red. With the third one dead, a most welcome message appeared.
Level up to level 1!
- HP increased to 129
- Stamina increased to 104
- Mana increased to 190
Choose a skill:
Armorer – 0/5
Terrain Drain – 0/5
Abmeleon – 0/5
Skill Steal – 0/5
Attacking with my fists might have worked on a slow-as-double-decker-bus scuttler, but if I came against a monster or person with decent armor, I might as well have been flicking my enemies in the face with a wet cloth. I needed weaponry. In the real world the pen might have been mightier than the sword, but I wasn’t here to write a book.
Armorer skill learned! [1/5]
“Har… You comin’, or what?” said Eddie.
“Just taking in the sights. Be right there.”
“You said that five minutes ago.”
“I got caught up with some of the native wildlife. Are the others there?”
“Yup,” said Glora.
Rynk coughed into his mike.
“Rynk, do I take it that means you’re there?”
“Roger, partner.”
“Okay, on my way.”
I checked my map to orientate myself toward the other colored pins, and then I set out. The jungle grew hotter as I walked through it. There was so much moisture in the air that I felt like it was drenching me. The humidity reminded me of a dog’s breath: hot, wet, and smelly. The sand dunes in the next quadrant weren’t going to offer any kind of shade, either. The sooner we reached the tundra, the better. Hopefully, that was where the first wave would take us.
When I was just two minutes away from the others, I spied a small hut to my right. This wasn’t a stone building but was instead made from an intricate interlacing of dried-out reeds. They were woven together tightly enough to look solid, and the roof was covered in giant palm leaves fastened by vines.
I knew I needed to hurry to the others, but seeing this makeshift hut prompted one word into my mind: Loot. Lovely, lovely loot. Who could resist its draw? It was like a temptress drawing you in. Or a Siren, as Eddie would put it. It was like a naked chick whispering to a sailor and drawing him to his doom. That’s what loot was. And I knew I wouldn’t be able to resist it.
I had enough self-restraint to hang back a sec and wait for movement. There was a makeshift door, again comprised of reed thatch work, but it was held in place against the doorway. That meant nobody had been in yet. Then again… Whenever I went into buildings to loot stuff, I closed the doors behind me. It wasn’t out of politeness. If I left them open, then anyone happening by the same building would suspect someone was there, and they’d be alert. Added to that was the fact that if someone had to open
a door to get into the room as me, I’d hear them, which gave me a warning.
A minute of observation revealed no sign or sound of people, and I felt safe to approach. I crossed the mud floor and reached the hut. The door was lightweight, and I moved it to one side with ease. I stepped into the hut and then pulled the door back in place behind me. Thin rays of sunlight snuck into the hut, though they were already weaker having been filtered through the jungle’s leafy canopy. It was hard to see much. As my eyes adjusted, I spotted something I didn’t like.
Cobwebs. Thick cobwebs that looked like they’d been shot out of the ass of spiders the size of my head covered the roof, walls, and even a little wooden table that had an old radio transmitter on it. Luckily, there was no sign of the spiders themselves. The radio transmitter was an interesting little detail. Maybe the map designer had put it there so that the shack resembled a jungle outpost of some kind—like a ranger station or something like that. It was interesting, but not important.
My eyes were drawn away from the radio and instead to the floor. There, amidst a bedding of twigs and cobwebs, were items. Lovely, lovely loot. I kneeled to see what I’d found.
Minor Healing Potion
A berry-pink-colored potion that restores 30 HP
[+30HP]
Leather Shoulder Brace
Basic leather armor that can cover a shoulder
[+5 DEF]
Medium Stamina Potion
An ink-blue drink that restores 70 stamina
[+70 Stamina]
Metal Shin Pad
A piece of metal armor that can be fitted to the shin
[+10 DEF]
Inventory Satchel – Level 1
Increase carry weight by 100%
[Carry Weight +100%]
Not the best haul. Not too bad, either, I guessed. Of course, loot item placement was completely random. It was entirely possible to find a level-four fire-infused greatsword in the first building you explored. I hadn’t gotten that lucky. Extra armor was always necessary, so I strapped the metal shin pad onto my left leg and put the leather shoulder brace on my right shoulder. I was fully aware of how stupid I’d look with such a pathetic mish-mash of armor, but it was a start.
Defence increased to 30/500!
Next up, I put the health and stamina potions in my new satchel, and I looped it around my neck and swung it around so that it was on my back. With my new armor and provisions, it was time to move out.
A voice spoke in my ear. “Anyone ever tell you that punctuality is one of your strong points?” said Glora.
“Sorry guys. I found an old hut, and the loot started signing to me.”
“I hear that,” said Rynk.
“Well you better hurry,” said Eddie, “because—”
He abruptly stopped talking. I heard him and Glora whisper to each other. What is going on? Then Eddie’s voice came back on TeamSpeak. He spoke in a quiet hiss.
“We’ve got company,” he said.
“Oh, shit. Be right there,” I said.
I was about to move the wooden door screen when I stopped. The hairs on my arms stuck up as if some kinetic force had stroked them. Someone was close by. I didn’t know how I knew, but I was absolutely sure of it. Then I heard a twig crunch, and another. Footsteps squelched on the boggy jungle floor. The more I listened, the surer I was that the footsteps were heading my way. God damn it. Of all the huts in all the jungles, someone had to stumble along mine?
“Har, get your ass over here,” said Eddie in my ear. “They haven’t seen us yet, but there’s three of them. If you get here, they’re outnumbered.”
I couldn’t answer. Eddie and the others had company, and I had a little company of my own. The only problem was that, although I’d heard my foe, I hadn’t seen him yet. There was no telling what class he was or how tooled up he was. In short, there was no way to make a plan.
“Har, what the hell?”
I turned TeamSpeak off. I couldn’t have a single distraction. If I was going to get out of this alive, I needed to use all my cunning, all my wit, all my skills…
Hang on. The footsteps were trailing away. I wiped my forehead. My hand came away, covered in sweat. I listened intently, and, sure enough, the crunches and squelches were getting softer. Whoever it was, they either hadn’t seen the hut, or they hadn’t thought that it was worth the effort of looting. Tsk. You just missed out on a leather shoulder bracer, buddy.
As quietly as possible, I gripped the wooden door. I picked it up and moved it to clear the doorway. A man stood just inches away from my face. He was four feet tall, with a thick, knotted dwarf beard. He gripped a wood-felling axe in his hand.
“Hi,” he said and grinned a wide, beaming smile full of yellowed teeth.
Johnny Cuthelm [Team Ripnet]
Adrenaline spiked through my veins and set me in combat mode with barely even a blink. The options flooded through my over-worked mind; run, jump, push, punch. I just had to strike first; this guy wasn’t going to shake my hand and then depart as a friend. I was about to clench my fist and sock him on the nose. Similarly, Johnny the dwarf raised his axe and was about to strike.
I caught myself at the last moment. I’m being stupid. I unclenched my fist. Instead, I activated Armorer. I prodded Johnny in the chest. My finger sank a little into his flabby flesh.
Armorer activated! Select a proficiency to steal:
Axe
Dagger
Short sword
Just as he pulled back his axe and was ready to strike, I made my choice. It took me less than a second to select ‘axe’.
Axe proficiency learned!
Robbed of his axe proficiency, the dwarf found that he couldn’t even lift his axe, let alone swing it at me. It slipped out of his hand like it was made of butter. He stared at it for a second in disbelief. It was like he’d forgotten I was there. He picked it up, and then it fell right out of his hand again.
This time, I picked it up. I gripped it in my right hand. I smiled at Johnny.
Wood-felling axe equipped!
- Attack increased to 60/500!
“Nice axe,” I told him. “Thanks very much.” I swung it at him, slicing a chunk out of his neck. A spray of blood hit me in the mouth. I could taste the copper. I spat it out on the floor and faced the dwarf again. He backed away. For every step I took toward him, he took two back. He must have known the game was up. He was a dwarf; brute force was his thing, not speed. If he ran, I’d catch him.
“What the hell did you do?” he asked, his voice thick with uncertainty.
“Ever heard of an abermorph?” I said. He shook his head. “Me neither. But I’m starting to like it.”
Chapter Six
113 Teams Remaining
Carving up Johnny Cuthelm with his own axe hadn’t merely given me an extra twenty-five percent experience, putting me thirty-five percent of the way to level two. It was also one of the first twenty-five kills of the entire battle, earning me a bit bonus of two-hundred. Not enough to buy a new prot generator for the ranch or shore up the walls in Perlshaw’s hidden library, but it was something.
Since poor Johnny Cuthelm was dead, I considered his wood-felling axe my rightful property. As well as that, I took:
Bronze Belt
Protection for your midriff
[+4 DEF]
Asbestos Ring
An iron ring infused with fire-resistant asbestos
[Buff: +10% Fire resistance]
Potion of Fast Feet
Drink this to increase your running speed by 200% for 60 seconds
- Defence increased to 34/500
- Buff gained: 10% Fire resistance!
Adorned with a shiny new belt and cheap-looking ring, I left Johnny Cuthelm on the ground, where his corpse would soon become scuttler fodder. In reality, of course, Johnny would wake up in his gel capsule, angry and disappointed, and he’d start wondering what the heck an abermorph was.
Thanks, Bill. You picked a weird class, but a good one.
