by S. R. Witt
I thought about nodding and the CIN unit snatched away the nerve impulses before they could reach my body. My green avatar nodded its blobby head, and it felt like my head. Which was very bizarre, because I could still sort of feel my actual head out in the World, and it wasn’t moving at all. As long as I was logged in and the CIN was active, my body was as inert as the aerogel mattress cradling it.
Back in the early days of VR, people did a lot of stumbling around and injuring themselves trying to navigate the virtual world. I don't know what Steam or HTC were thinking back then, but we've come a long way since goggles, cameras, and plastic sticks with glowing balls on the ends. The neural interface pumps straight into your senses and paralytic neurosympathetic waves keep you from breaking your neck.
“This way,” Karl said. He was halfway across the blank entry area, and I was still standing there like a tourist in Times Square for the first time. I shook my head and followed him.
We passed through a neon blue doorway and featureless light consumed my world. I was nothing, less than nothing, just a mute witness to glorious, all-encompassing whiteness. I was a snowflake in a blizzard. I was a shred of ice in a snow cone. I was—
“Take another step, little brother.” Karl's amused voice brought me back to the task at hand. “We don’t have all day. Gotta make every minute count.”
I took another step and the white shredded away like the last wisps of morning fog evaporating under the sun.
Smoke tickled my nose, a cozy scent that brought to mind images of a postcard fireplace.
My sight flickered into focus. We were standing in a low-ceilinged tavern. An enormous fireplace dominated the wall in front of us, a suckling pig turning on a spit in its belly. Molten fat dripped through the crackling skin and sizzled on the coals. A hollow ache took root in my stomach and demanded I get a piece of that pig before I did anything else.
Karl nudged me with his elbow. His eyes were wide as he absorbed the tavern’s impeccable detail. “This is amazing,” he whispered to me. “I had no idea…”
It was awesome. Virtual Reality had never been this real before. There was always some sense of simulation that kept the details at arm’s length. This tavern, on the other hand, ticked all the right boxes.
The wooden floor was rough and uneven beneath my threadbare boots. The air was warm and dry, with a trace of smoke and roasted pork to tickle the nose. The fire popped and cracked as it burned, the pig’s juices sizzled, and the conversations around us gave the place a busy, excited air. No sense was shorted. The details pushed the virtual part of the game into the background. It just felt real.
“They told us it was an improvement over the last gen,” I whispered back, “but this isn't just an improvement. This is like—”
“— a different world.” Karl finished my sentence.
The rest of the players seemed just as dumbfounded as the two of us. Small groups clustered around tables and stood along the walls, everyone marveling at the fidelity of the virtual world we'd entered.
Karl appeared human, and I felt the same. But there were also elves, dwarves, gnomes, and even a few other fantasy races I didn’t recognize at all. With so many choices available, why had Karl and I ended up with the blandest possible option?
Despite my frustration at not getting to choose my character’s species, I couldn’t shake a sense of awe at everything around me. I wanted to spend the rest of the night in that tavern. I wanted to taste that roasting pig and drink a flagon of the foamy mead the tavern’s serving girls carried around the room on enormous platters, but Karl had other ideas.
He wrapped one arm around my shoulders and led me toward the shadowed rear of the tavern. “We need to get our characters created and get a jump on the rest of these newbs.”
It was disappointing to hear Karl's voice empty of wonder. He was all business now.
My heart sank at the realization that we'd be strip-mining the magic right out of this experience. We weren’t here to play, we were here to make the cash we needed to keep from losing our apartment and our mother’s ventilator. The more sentimental and attached we got to this world, the harder it would be to make cash. People went down the rabbit hole in these games, losing sight of their goals and the rest of the World. This place, as engaging and entrancing as it was, presented a very dangerous trap for the unwary.
“There should be something back here. Maybe someone. We just need to start the creation quest, and then we can start earning some cash.” Karl steered us through the crowd, parting the gawking gamers like a barracuda slicing through a school of tuna.
He found what he was looking for in less than sixty seconds.
“Welcome travelers,” an old man greeted us from a corner table. His long white hair tangled in the brambled mane of his beard, but his eyes sparkled like amethysts in the candlelight. “Tell me a bit about yourselves, and we’ll get you started on the right path.”
This was different. Most games couldn't handle character creation for more than one player at a time. That Dragon Web Online was able to adapt so the two of us going through the process at the same time said a lot about the quality of its AI. This was going to be more fun than I thought.
“Bastion,” Karl declared. “My name is Bastion.”
The old man smiled at my brother and then inclined his head in my direction. “And who are you, friend?”
Karl raised his eyebrows at me. He didn't care what I called myself and, truth be told, I didn't really care that much either. I was more into puzzle games, the kind of things I could solve on my own without a lot of outside help or cooperation required. This role-playing business made me feel a little silly.
Karl’s plan called for me to be a healer, which usually meant a priest of some sort.
“Call me Saint,” I muttered.
Chapter Three
Bastion snorted. “That’s not a name. It’s a title. A boring title.”
“Oh, and Bastion’s soooo clever.” My brother thought everything I did was lame. Getting under my skin and needling me was his second favorite hobby.
I rolled my eyes. “It’ll inspire confidence in my allies. What’s your name inspire? A need to go to church? Maybe some inappropriate touching involving—”
I cut him off before he could get rolling. “It tells people I’m a nice guy who’s willing to help. That’s sort of the point, right?”
Bastion had a plan, but I didn’t have to like it. If he wanted me to be a healer, I’d follow his lead and do what he asked. It’s always been that way. He makes plans, I help execute them, and hope that at the end of the day the two of us are better off than when we started. Bastion’s a great gamer in the World, and he knows a hell of a lot more about this kind of stuff than I do, but somehow I always end up on the wrong side of these schemes. This time, though, it would be different. It had to be.
The old man smiled and nodded to each of us in turn. “You can call me Kor. I’ve been around a bit and seen a little of everything. If you need to know something, feel free to ask and I’ll answer what I can.
“Now that we've been formally introduced, it's time for the two of you to decide what sort of adventurers you will become. Feel free to look around, have a meal, enjoy a few drinks and get to know the other newcomers, if you like. It's all on the house for your first visit. But, when you're ready to move on, just step through that door.”
He gestured with his smoldering pipe toward the wall across from us. I don't know how we missed the door before the old man pointed it out to us. It was heavy and thick and banded with metal. It looked like it could withstand a battering ram, or at least a very determined kick.
That pig. It smelled so good I could feel my stomach rumbling and my mouth watering all over again. “Should we grab a bite—”
Bastion hooked an arm over my shoulders and turned me toward the door. “Sorry, little brother. No time for that. Gotta move before someone grabs all the good quests and snatches up the first-timer loot.”
&nbs
p; My stomach growled and its pangs of regret at missing a free meal were almost as sharp as the regret I felt at letting Bastion make all the in-game choices for me.
Chapter Four
I should have known. I mean, it makes sense, right? The Devs wanted their first day of the Game to start on the first day of its calendar. And what day is that?
New Year's Day.
And what kind of weather does most of the Northern Hemisphere get on the first day of the year? You know, the beginning of January?
Snow. Freezing temperatures, bitterly cold wind, and lots and lots of snow.
Bastion shoved me through the exit so abruptly I didn't notice what was happening until I was outside.
One second, I’m standing in a nice warm tavern lusting after a slice of delicious roast pig and a mug of mead, the next I’m knee-deep in snow wearing nothing but a shabby wool tunic, a very scratchy wool loincloth, and a pair of too-small boots with more holes than leather. Being a newb sucked.
The cold stole my breath away, and my words with it. I hugged myself until my ribs creaked, but my arms were no substitute for a parka. This wasn’t adventure. It was the onset of hypothermia.
A message from the Game appeared in the lower left of my vision.
Welcome to Dragon Web Online, Saint! Your adventure in the World of Invernoth begins here, in the village of Frosthold.
You have received the quest “Path to Adventure.” This quest is mandatory and you may not leave the starting area prior to its completion.
Your choices during this quest will determine your starting class. Please be aware that you may only change your starting class AFTER reaching level 10.
You are now equipped with: a threadbare wool tunic, a rough wool breechclout, a pair of well-worn leather boots, a rope belt, a small belt pouch, and five (5) copper coins.
You are in a Protected Area, and may not be attacked by other characters. However, you may still suffer damage or be killed by NPCs and environmental hazards.
Should you perish before reaching level 5, you will re-roll as a new character in a random starting location. Your Personal Links will NOT be maintained in this event.
That was a lot to digest all at once. It was the last part about the Personal Links that concerned me the most. Karl and I had paid extra for one of those so Bastion and Saint would start in the game world together. Our whole plan rested on being a team. If we were separated, we’d never be able to make enough money to offset the costs of playing the game and keep our mother in good health.
New addition to the plan: Do not die.
I reviewed the messages a few more times, making sure I absorbed everything, teeth chattering as the wind nipped at my naked legs.
You suffer 1 point of Stamina damage from the cold. Find shelter or more appropriate gear immediately!
Thanks, Devs, for making the Game so very realistic. The weather was going to kill me before I finished character creation.
Bastion had already walked away without so much as a glance behind him. By the time I finished reading the messages from the Game, the swirling snow falling from the clouded night sky had all but swallowed him. I wanted to call out, but knew it was pointless. Even when we were little kids, my brother never waited for me. He wanted me to be tough and decided early on the only way that was going to happen was if he treated me just like our dad had treated him.
Not that it worked. No one was ever going to mistake me for a tough guy.
I caught Bastion at an intersection between the alley we’d walked down and the village’s main street. The buildings on either side of us were hewn from weathered wood and coated in layers of chipped paint. Loose shutters banged against the oiled-parchment windows.
But, despite its shabby appearance, I couldn't help but feel comfortable in this little village. There was something indefinable in the air, like I’d come home after being gone for a very long time. Everything about the place screamed safety, even if it didn't shout luxury.
“Where is it?” Bastion asked himself. I didn't know what it was, but it must be important. I looked around, trying to find something, anything, but I wasn't sure what to look for. My eyes scanned the street, but all I saw were deep drifts of snow piled against weathered buildings and the occasional glimmer of an ice-crusted mud puddle.
You suffer 1 point of Stamina damage from the cold. Find shelter or more appropriate gear immediately!
“W-w-what are we looking for?” I managed to spit out despite my chattering teeth.
Bastion shuddered and I noticed the green dot floating next to his head had a thin sliver of red showing. I wasn’t the only one freezing to death.
“The P-p-path to Adventure,” he said. “There’s no marker for the first step in the quest.”
I kept searching, but all I really wanted was to get out of the snow, whatever that took. “We can’t stay out here,” I gasped through a gust of freezing wind. “We need clothes, at least, before we do anything else.”
Bastion grunted. “If we waste time looking for clothes, someone will beat us to the good quests.”
“If we don’t spend time looking for clothes, we’re going to freeze to death and then what?” Two could play the grumpy game.
Bastion did the math, but I already knew the truth. We were taking damage about every two minutes. I had 50 hit points, which meant I’d be dead in 96 minutes. Bastion might have more hit points, but I doubted it. We were still in the newbie zone and hadn’t finished character creation. We were probably exactly the same, as far as the game was concerned, right up until we hit first level.
“Where would we even find clothes?” Bastion turned in a slow circle, searching for some clue.
“This area can’t be that big. I’ll go look for clothes, you look for the Path to Adventure.”
“Never split the party. That’s the first rule in these games.”
I punched Bastion in the arm and a red warning message flashed across my vision.
WARNING! You are in the starting area. Violence against other players is prohibited. Your attack caused no damage, but your reputation will suffer if you try to harm a player intentionally.
Geez. Touchy much?
“We aren’t splitting the party, we’re utilizing our resources in the most efficient manner.” I didn’t care about adventure. I cared about getting clothes. “We need clothes to continue our quest.”
Bastion grumbled but nodded. “Go ahead and see if you can find something to protect us from the cold. But be quick, and don’t go far.”
Sure, Dad. Whatever.
I hightailed it out of there before Bastion could change his mind.
And took the first step down the wrong path.
Chapter Five
Leaving Bastion behind was a relief for the first few minutes. No more judgmental quips, no more worrying what he thought or might say.
Then the doubts crept in. What if my brother was right? What if splitting the party was, indeed, the very worst thing you could ever possibly do in a game like this?
I was about to find out, and I didn't think I was going to like the answer.
Without any idea where to go, or what to look for, I wandered through the streets. The village wasn't large, but it wasn't tiny. There were businesses scattered along the main road, but dozens more were hidden in and amongst the small homes that appeared to have been laid out by a drunken raccoon on a tequila binge. I needed a tailor, or whatever the hell they called clothes shops in this mess of a town.
I counted my money, for the third time since I left Bastion behind, and wondered what I was going to get with five pieces of copper. The coins were small, about the same size as my thumbnail, and much less ornate than the coins I’d seen in my high school history books. There was a simple square hole through the center of each disk and a few rough symbols I did not recognize scattered around the edge of each surface. I shrugged and dropped them back into my pouch.
My guess was there were very, very few things I would be able to pick u
p for the equivalent of five pennies.
I cursed myself for not asking Bastion to give me his meager starting funds, not that I thought another five coppers would amount to much. We had less money in the Game than we did back in the World.
Not a promising start.
My aimless wandering brought me at last to the doorstep of a small church. I’d suffered more damage from the cold, and needed to get out of the wind before I lost any more hit points. I wasn't in immediate danger of dying, but frostbite wasn’t much fun, even in VR.
The church's inviting appearance and well-lit windows urged me to come inside. My hand fell on the door, and it opened without a sound.
Thank whatever gods hang out around here for small miracles.
I closed the door behind me and leaned against it. The church wasn't toasty, it had too many windows to keep all the wind out, but it was far warmer than the frigid temperatures beyond its doors. Dozens of candles along the walls and scattered across the altar took the edge off the cold and provided warm, if wavering, light. I walked up the church's central aisle, looking for a priest or nun or whatever the hell else they called them here. But there was no one else in the one-room building. I was completely alone.
Near the altar, it was much warmer than by the door. I took a seat in the front pew and rested my head in my hands. I did nothing for at least five minutes, just sat and absorbed the warmth pouring off the rows of candles burning atop the altar. I imagined Bastion out in the cold, freezing his ass off, and could not suppress a grin. Served him right.
But, mocking my cold brother wasn't getting me closer to my goal. We needed clothes.
