by M Helbig
After I finished and washed up, I made my way back down the hallway, wobbling slightly from the relief when the doorbell rang. The door swooshed open around the corner, and a nasal voice echoed down the hallway. I immediately stopped. I’d recognize that voice anywhere. Carl. Never did get what Dad saw in him. Annoying voice, personality to match, and hated kids (which I’d always be in his eyes). The only good thing about him was that he hated talking about S&S as much as me.
"This isn't the best time," Dad said.
"You don't always get to choose everything, Frank," Carl said with a weaselly laugh. “We’re not at work.”
“Do you have a reason for being here?” Dad tapped furiously on something hard, probably the doorframe.
“It finally happened. Soooo, you know what that means.”
“N—” A sound like I’d heard a gun make in one of those old movies went off, followed by a thud. I thought it might be the TV but hadn’t heard any other sounds from it before.
"Y—" Carl said with a sneer I could almost picture. "After all these years it feels good to get that off my chest—well, your chest. Oh, come on! Why aren't you laughing? Oh, right. Well, you would have found that funny.” Another laugh was followed by the sound of footsteps steadily moving away.
I rushed into the room and found my dad sprawled on the floor in a pool of his own blood. It seemed to be coming from his chest. My fear-addled mind went over the little I remembered from my semester as pre-med.
His pulse! I grabbed his wrist, trying—and mostly failing—to ignore the red stuff below my knees. It took me several panicked tries to find it; it was there but faint.
As I looked at his face, his eyes suddenly shot open. “The wristband.”
“Dad, I have my own communicator.” I held my wrist out to show him the cheap one I’d always managed to hide so he wouldn’t try to buy me an expensive one. “I’ll call a medic.”
He pushed my hand away from making the call and then gripped it tight. “No . . . this.” He pointed at his left wrist and the thin, cheap-looking white band wrapped around it.
I reached for its center but realized there was no screen to call from; it was just a band. Had probably bought it at a convenience store to help some cause. I figured he was embarrassed and didn’t want the paramedics to see it on him. I pulled the band off his wrist and put it on mine. Easier than arguing. During the exchange, I’d completely shut out what was going on in the rest of the world, so when I reached over to my other wrist to start the call, I was shocked to see the shadow of a figure. As I abruptly turned, I almost fell over the slick blood. I didn’t see his face, but I knew that laugh instantly. My arms reflexively covered my head as the shot rang out.
At first I thought Carl missed. The pain didn’t come until I saw the blood squirting out of my chest. I screamed as the agony suddenly hit me in one big wave. Somehow I fought it off, but the only thing I could manage was an awkward roll toward the door.
Carl was nowhere to be seen, but two people dressed head to toe in some sort of white hazmat-like outfits had just entered the room. One of them knelt and grabbed me. I tried to struggle as she put a device over my mouth, but my body went limp. I couldn’t see the woman’s face through the thick, glassy visor as she leaned over, but I swore she was smirking. My consciousness . . .
Imps, Orcs, and Newbs
I awoke with a start and tried desperately to open my eyes, to no avail. My attempt to reach for my eyelids met similar failure. Probably would’ve helped if my hands had been of any use, but I quickly discovered that nothing in my body was responding, not even my bladder. They had even taken that away from me.
Had they? Not sure why I assumed they were there for nefarious reasons. Must have been the outfits and who they arrived right after. They were probably only medics in strange outfits, and I couldn’t do anything because they’d sedated me.
I’d just have to lie there and do nothing but think while the professionals did their work—though it really would’ve been nice if I had something to distract me—well, besides the army of tiny imps that seemed to be hammering on every nerve in my body.
My prayers were answered a second later when a voice told me to be patient while the system calibrated to my brain pattern. What system? Smooth jazz began playing in the background, making me pray for the return of the quiet and the pain. Nothing’s worse than smooth jazz.
Mercifully, right as I was about to decide to end it all and then try to figure out how exactly I was going to do that without access to my arms or legs, the music stopped and everything returned.
I was sitting in a sunny, butterfly-filled meadow. The complete lack of any medical equipment was odd; the presence of butterflies was odder. I’d never seen real butterflies before, since most of them were now extinct. The breeze caressed my skin lovingly like no breeze in our wasteland of a city ever had. It was beautiful. It was perfect. It was heaven?
I wanted to just lie down and stay there forever, but then I remembered Carl and how he’d murdered my dad—and me? I didn’t want to die; I wanted to live.
I hopped up angrily, and out of nowhere, a piece of polished wood landed hard in the spot I’d just vacated. Spinning around, I found myself staring at a ponytailed, muscular, greenish-yellow orc. He smiled sweetly as he lifted the sword from the ground and pointed it at me.
“Don’t suppose you could sit back down, so I could try that again?” he asked.
I stared at the six-inch indent in the ground and then at the orc. “Oh, crap. This isn't heaven.” I was in Dad’s game—or maybe I was in hell. Not that there was any difference to me.
Was his game really my own personal hell? Sure, I was sick of hearing about it. Wasn’t like I hated it that much. I mean, I did occasionally watch some of the streaming channels on the game, though that was more to fit in with my friends . . . well, mostly. Dantanion’s videos were hilarious.
The orc rested his sword on the ground. “Yeah. I’m your own personal demon or some crap. Here ta make ya pay for all your past ills. Not at all here to explain how a fantasy game works to random newbs who stumble in.”
Before I could answer, a dinging sound drowned out the rest of the surly—and I’m sure brilliant—gibberish that came out of the orc’s mouth, and a glowing mail icon appeared in the top left of my vision. A message soon followed, covering most of my view.
Frank,
You were in a terrible accident and your body didn’t make it. My sincere condolences on your situation. Fortunately, you were wearing the wristband attached to your Sun & Shadow Online VIP Resurrection Plan, and our technicians were able to save your mind.
Congratulations! You have now been reborn as an avatar within the game which could potentially allow you to live forever. We wanted to give you a few minutes to get acclimated to your surroundings before we sent this message, but you should see in front of you an NPC (non-player character) named Sarge who will teach you the basics of the game.
When you exit the tutorial, we will connect to the bank account that was attached to your communicator and convert that money into in-game currency. Remember, in Sun & Shadow Online, you will be charged in-game money for each death, and if your balance reaches zero, you will die for good (unlike most players who can come back and play again). Invest wisely and avoid death as much as possible. But most of all, have fun in your new home!
Sincerely,
Pyrite Games
I was alive, but that meant my dad wasn’t because the message was directed at him. It sounded like he’d died because I’d taken his wristband. He hadn’t meant for me to take it. He’d only been trying to explain . . .
Oh, God. I’d never see his face again. See his smile. Hear his wonderful, terrible jokes. Toss the football around with him in the backyard even though neither of us could make an accurate pass to save our lives. See his downtrodden face when he realized I hadn’t been listening about his silly game that I was now permanently in.
I’d never see my mom either! Hear
her sweet, reassuring voice when I told her about my latest switch in majors. Get pestered by her about how I was still single and that the girl with the annoying laugh was still available next door. Get to eat her slightly overcooked food. Smell her strong, overly floral perfumes. Or see my annoying sister, who I’m sure deep, deep down loves me. At least Lilly wouldn’t be able to take my stuff anymore—well, after she’d take everything in my apartment now that I wasn’t there to protect it.
This was terrible, but . . . No! I was being given a second chance and there must have been a reason for that. “No sense dwelling on the past,” like Dad used to say all the time. He wouldn’t want me to sulk. He’d want me to make him proud and make the best of it. And it would even be in the game he had put so much of his life into.
I did a poor job of holding back the tears which drew a sigh and then a fart from the large orc in front of me.
“So, this is a tutorial then?” I asked.
He held his pointily fingernailed hand out. “Name’s Sarge, and I’ll be your instructor, newb.”
I decided against shaking his hand, as it was bigger than my head. That and the whole trying-to-hit-me-with-the-sword thing. “That’s great, but I’ve played my fair share of games. I think I can figure it out.”
“Ahh, an expert.” He nodded thoughtfully and then whacked me on the side of the head. “What're ya screaming for, expert? Looks like we got some kind of moron here, boys.” Sarge looked behind him, but no one was there. “Bet he thinks he can just log out and come back later too. There ain’t no logging out of here, expert. Ya only get one character, and if ya go to one of them exit places, your character gets deleted and ya gotta start over from scratch if ya re-enter. Speaking of scratches . . .” Sarge hit me again.
“Oww!” I said. “I thought you were designed to help me.”
Sarge smirked. “Don't mean I can't enjoy myself. Not like there are a lot of fun things for me ta do in this place. Not like they let me leave or anything. Which reminds me.” Sarge took my legs out from under me with his sword.
“That is not helping.”
“Sure it is. I'm helping you learn about the pain filters. Like for example yers are turned off right now, and I ain't actually hurting ya. Yer brain is just seeing me hit ya and assuming it hurts. I ain't no psychologist, but ya might have problems, kid.”
As I covered my face with my arms, he sighed as he reached down and lifted me off the ground to my feet. A screen popped up with a big arrow pointing to the pain filter. It was turned down to zero. “Oh, yeah. Now I see it.”
Sarge rapped me on the side of the head.
“Oww—You're right, that didn't actually hurt.”
Sarge laid into my stomach before giving up. “Now ya know. The default of eighty percent should’ve gone back on now. That’s roughly equal to what most people feel in that place you newbs come from. You can change it if ya want to. Warning though, if you turn it all the way off, you might not realize you’re being attacked until it’s too late. Ya also won’t be able to feel the good stuff either. If ya know what I mean.” He winked at me.
As I rolled my eyes, another prompt popped up asking me to pick a faction. I decided that Sarge’s painful demonstration had led to a good point. As much as I knew about the game from what my dad had told me and from having played other non-VR MMORPGs, I really needed to learn everything I possibly could about this game. It was my life now.
“Before you pick,” Sarge said, “there’s a few other things not in them descriptions. The Sun Alliance currently has 77,032,457 players and the Shadow Consortium has 47,981,413 players. More players in a faction means more competition fer mobs—what us cool kids call monsters—and loots in most areas, but it also gives ya an edge in large-scale PvP (player vs. player), or it should anyway.”
“Thanks, Sarge.” I breezed through the descriptions, as I already knew which I was going to pick from going through Dad’s demo. I picked the Sun Alliance because they were the supposed good guys, or at least pretty guys, and I always picked the good guys. Surprisingly, Sarge didn’t hit me this time. Maybe, he actually responded to kindness?
“Good, now pick a race. I'm getting tired of staring at yer weird, shapeless form. Too bad ya can’t pick to be as gorgeous as me. Half-orcs are an NPC-only race for now. Not that it matters. Not like I can leave this place and meet a nice girl. Settle down. Have half-orc babies with their mother's eyes and my beautiful fangs . . .” As his eyes began to water, a screen with details of all the races appeared to block my view of him.
Beaverkin: +1 STR, +1 END, -1 AGI. Bonus Skills: Carpentry (at level 5), Polearms, Regen. Other Bonus: +20% water resist. Drawback: poor eyesight (costs 1 extra skill choice to learn Inspect and Detective).
Dwarf: +1 STR, +2 STA, -2 CHA. Bonus Skills: Mine (at level 5), Smith (at level 5), Survivalist. Other Bonuses: infravision, + damage to earth-based creatures & constructs (golems, rock people, etc.), + faction to Gnomperton, +20% earth resist. Drawback: - faction to all Duchy of Kagsgrude factions.
Forest Giant: +3 STR, +2 STA, +1 END, -1 CHA, -2 AGI, -2 DEX. Bonus Skills: 1-Handed Blunt, Carrying, Lumberjack (at level 5). Other Bonuses: resistant to knockback, +10% earth and wind resist. Drawbacks: can only build giant items with most trade skills (only usable by giants, require more resources), cannot use many items made from non-giant-made trade skills, mobs aggro from farther away, - faction to Gnomperton.
Gnome: +2 INT, +1 WIS, -1 STA, -1 END. Bonus Skills: Detective, Inventing (at level 5), Lucky. Other Bonuses: infravision, + faction to all Archduchy of LeMaeon factions, +5% earth and dark resist, +10% water resist. Drawbacks: flammable (+10% extra damage from fire), -faction to the Ever-Moving Caravan.
High Elf: +1 AGI, +2 INT, +2 WIS, -1 STA, -1 END, - 1 STR, -1 CHA to interactions with non-high elf NPCs. Bonus Skills: Alchemy (at level 5), Lore, Mental Toughness. Other Bonuses: + damage to shadow elves, + 20% light resist. Drawback: - faction to all Archduchy of LeMaeon factions.
Human: +1 to a stat of your choice. Bonus skills: 2 bonus skill points. Other Bonuses: Can enter some Shadow-faction towns when created (but start at Untrusted faction level), +10 to resist(s) of your choice.
Wood Elf: +1 AGI, +1 DEX, +1 CHA, -1 STA, -1 STR. Bonus Skills: Bowcraft (at level 5), Bows, Sneak. Other Bonuses: +10% wind and dark resist, + damage to orcs, infravision. Drawback: Can't learn Inventing skill.
“Yer race determines a lot of faction bonuses you'll start with, too. Most of ’em are with the NPCs of yer same race or other races allied with ’em. Some of ’em are listed in the descriptions there. Me, I don't have any allies because there are no half-orc villages out there. I don't ever get to leave this place. I just stay here every day and get ta explain the same thing over and over to you stupid newbs. Ahh . . . where was I?”
I felt bad that I didn’t feel bad for Sarge. He was very lifelike, especially his pungent aroma and penchant for nose picking when he was sure I was watching. I would’ve sworn he was real if I hadn’t known any better, but I had more pressing things on my mind than considering the moral issues of trapping a seemingly sentient being in a small area and forcing it to do the same thing over and over. I had to pick a race for a character in a video game!
As I focused on each race, I noticed that I could drill down to get more information about each portion of the description. Most of the info, like the faction bonuses and resists, didn’t mean anything to me, so I glossed over them.
Forest giants were obviously meant for front-line fighters. When I thought about them, I was transported out of my body so I could look at myself as one of them. They were, well, giant. I could imagine it’d be a great asset for a healer to be able to pick you out from a mile away, but it also would mean having to hunch over whenever I entered a normal-sized building—and judging by the sizes of the other Sun Alliance races, that would be most of the time. I’d always liked to be a DPS (damage per second) in other games, and this one seemed to be more geared for tanking (absorbing hits while the rest
of the group did the damage). I decided to throw the dwarf out for the same reason. I needed something more focused on either Strength and Dexterity or Intelligence and Wisdom.
I didn’t like the shortness of the gnomes or beaverkin as I figured that’d make it difficult to see as far or over tall objects. I still wasn’t sure if I wanted to be a caster or a more physical fighter, but either way, being able to see more would be a big help. The two elves could do one of each of those roles, but if I picked one of them, I’d be stuck going caster or physical damage. I decided to go with the bland human as it gave me the most flexibility.
“Are ya sure?” Sarge said.
“Yes.”
Sarge shrugged nonchalantly. “Great, now pick your appearance.”
A page popped up with literally thousands of options. Being the daring, adventurous soul I am, I ended up looking exactly like I had on Earth, but a few inches taller with more muscles.
“You can always change your appearance and race later for a hefty fee. Currently, appearance changes vary from a couple dozen gold to a few thousand, depending on complexity, and race changes cost 5,000 gold. More than I make in a week, a month, a year. Well, ever since they don't pay me. Why aren't there laws against that? Whatever. I know something else there ain't laws about.”
I shifted my feet into something similar to the fighting stances I’d seen in movies to prepare for Sarge’s next attack. He wouldn’t catch me off guard this time. Sarge chuckled and dropped his sword. My plan had worked beautifully: make him think I didn’t know what I was doing—by actually not knowing what I was doing—and then when he became incapacitated by giggle fits, I’d strike?
A dull pain erupted from the middle of my back. I fell forward into Sarge, who recovered from his laughing stupor just in time to prevent me from accidentally landing a blow on him. He grabbed hold of me none too gently and turned me around to face my attacker. Right when I was sure Sarge was going to use me as a human shield, he let go. With his vicelike grip gone, I could use my arms again, and I stuck them over my head just before the wooden sword landed. My wrists felt like they were broken but sooner them than my brain. I’d need them for—
