Dedication
To the author’s who have fallen in the Genre Wars (2015-Present), we honor your sacrifice.
Blaise Corvin
Dawn Chapman
Travis Bagwell
Dave Wilmarth
Paul Bellows
Ramon Mejia
Angel Ramon
Bobby Bjurstrom
The 13 Wannabes
Nikolai Chekhov (after this book is published)
The Father (he falls during the coup of 2020)
If I didn’t mention you, feel free to email me: [email protected]
Also a shout out to BanHammer, couldn’t have done this without your inside information, it helped me a lot.
Author’s Note/Disclaimer
I’m going to put this right up front. This is a Parody and Satire of the LitRPG genre that makes fun of all the Facebook drama and petty bullshit that happens on an almost daily basis (wish I was kidding). But that’s not all. I also poke fun of a lot of books I’ve read, not because I dislike them, quite the contrary. Ok, some I didn’t like, but I don’t think you’ll guess which is which…
I believe I have done a good job making sure that if you don’t know what’s going on, you can still enjoy the story.
I am a huge fan of Parody because sometimes it takes those exaggerated scenarios to make people see how much of an ass they are. I’m not an exception, and I won’t take offense if I’m made fun of too. Part of the role I accepted when I decided to publish this.
I’m not out to hurt your feelings, although I probably will. Overall, I think I kept most of the jabs light with a few exceptions. I worked hard to make sure the story remained fun and not stuck in the weeds.
I hope you enjoy.
Pre-Game
Chapter 1
Location: Abandoned hospital in Pripyat, Ukraine
The smell of urine and anesthetic assaulted the hallway like a Harvey Weinstein’s pick up line. That and the rhythmic squealing of a damaged wheel finally woke me from my stupor. Lights flickered overhead, flaring up enough to see the grime and grunge of this building. Tiles cracked long ago clicked and popped as I rolled across them.
Sheets, dirty and stiff, were carelessly tossed over my emaciated body, and the gurney I was riding groaned under my weight. Creak! Creak! Creak! The sound of the bad wheel ground away the little patience I had until finally, the gurney rolled into a room better lit than the hall.
A rusted needle penetrated my arm, and my blood flowed down the clear tubing and probably out into a drain, considering how shady this whole operation was. I should have been concerned about Tetanus, but I’d be dead long before it could affect me.
“Deuce, wake up,” my father said and smacked me across the chest. “The doctor is here.”
“Shit tits! I wasn’t sleeping. And why the hell did I say shit tits?”
“That would be your Tourettes Syndrome.” The doctor said.
“When did I get Tourettes?”
“I guess when you got the Flu?”
“So he looks like the poster boy for cancer because of the Flu?” My dad asked, and I almost laughed at the absurd face he was making.
“No… Your son has prostate cancer. I mean it is clearly obvious.” The doctor’s voice took on an edge of annoyance. “You live a little too close to Chernobyl; it was bound to happen. I mean look at those appendages below his arms, it's another set of arms. Not to mention the COPD and Parkison’s disease.”
“Shit tits!” That was going to get annoying. “What don’t I have?”
“As far as I can tell you don’t have erectile dysfunction, nor do you suffer from premature ejaculation.”
“Well, thanks for small miracles. Wait—”
“To put it bluntly—you don’t have long to live. I have a colleague in America that is willing to take the hopeless cases like you for a new program. Your family will never see you again, which is tearing you up inside, I’m sure.” The Doctor’s sarcasm was unmistakable. “That is the deal, take it or leave it.”
“What kind of program?” My father refused to look at me.
“A virtual gaming world, he is trying to upload people into his virtual world. Leave their body behind or some crazy thing. Not that it matters, your son’s body is trash. Might as well give it to the Chinese to make a stir-fry with.”
“Shit tits.” Argh! “Dad, what the inferno is he talking about? Why am I here?”
“You do not understand. You are a corpse, son, but you refuse to die. Look at you. Hell, even the vet offered to lend me his bolt pistol to put you down, free of charge.”
“Hell, that’s better than selling me off to a god damned organ donor!” I shouted at the man that brought me into this world. The same man that spent the last decade trying to take me out of it.
“Stop thinking about yourself, boy. I got seven more sons that are healthy, and I am not going to waste hard earned money on a hopeless cause. This way, your death can benefit your family. I might even take your mother to a nice restaurant.” My father paused, but he still had not looked at me. “This is Mario; he makes money by stealing kidneys from unsuspecting Americans.” Saying what he had to say, it was like I no longer existed. “Doc, what kind of compensation does this get us?”
“My contact said he would pay 10,000 American dollars. I take forty percent for my finder’s fee, and you will get 6,000 dollars.”
“Stop! I will not and do not agree with this. What the hell is wrong with you, you're my dad?”
The doctor pushed a button on the machine monitoring my vitals. Seconds later, some multi-colored pills slid into his waiting hand. The doctor shoved them into my mouth and pinched my nose. Not given a choice, I swallowed and felt a flush of heat that left me woozy. Crashing back onto the rickety gurney, I put one foot on the floor to stop the spinning. The slimy surface made me reconsider, and I promptly puked all over the dirty floor. “Shit tits.”
“That’s the Flu. Now shut up, selfish brat, I am negotiating with your father.”
They haggled for a while, but I was drifting in and out of awareness. During lucid moments, my body shook so severely that my secondary arms were tickling my sides. I could not use them and had always kept them hidden. My mother thought they were adorable and refused to have them removed.
How many diseases riddled my body? I believed cancer ate at me because of the blood in my urine among other things. Breathing was a chore, especially when I moved, but for all I knew, I only had one lung.
“Deal.” The doctor and my father shook on it. “I will leave you with your son to say goodbye. I will be back shortly with some staff to ship him to America.”
The doctor closed the door as he stepped out leaving me alone with my father.
“Son, it’s for the best. We both know you were doomed the day you were born. At least this way you will help your family survive the famine.”
“Shit tits. Fucksicle—”
My father raised his hand to slap me, but I started laughing. Not that it was funny. I was pretty sure the drugs were making me all kinds of crazy, and the look on my father’s face brought me to the precipice of hysteria.
“I am sorry—”
“Go to hell,” I told him through bouts of giggles. “You created me; I blame you. Go suck on a—Shit tits!”
My father said nothing, and his will never wavered. There was a brief second when the skin around his eyes had tightened, but it was impossible to know what he was thinking. He left, and I was alone. Yeah, die in a fire, asshole.
In my drugged state it took me several minutes to realize my father knew nothing at all about the virtual game. That prick brought me here to sell off my organs. I was never leaving this room excep
t as harvested parts in plastic bags, at least the pieces not riddled with some disease or another. I blacked out shortly afterward.
Chapter 2
Location: Secret lab in America
Parched and bleary-eyed, I took in my new environment. The smell alone was cleaner, and the walls were so white it hurt to look. The sterile room had not one speck of dust, and I knew this was not Pripyat. Hell, I doubted I was even in Russia.
“Damn, Mario,” An American said as he flashed a light in my eyes. English was not my first language, but close enough. Americans had a distinct sound, and the realization I was this rich man’s pet did not sit well with me.
“Relax,” Mario said, trying to placate his benefactor. “I used no narcotics in the mix and needed the various drugs to keep him sedated. Anyway, your problem now, provided you pay me my fifty thousand American dollars. Also, you need to compensate me for the transport.”
“Fine. No worries. No one will come looking for…” The new guy waved his hand at me.
“Deuce.”
“Right, so no one will come looking for Deuce, Correct?”
“No. No. Heh, the kid’s father gave him away without even negotiating. As far as his family knows, this kid has already died.”
I lost track of the conversation as I saw a poster on the wall with the caption ‘Gnoks Rule!’ printed across it. Cowled creatures with long sharp fingers were hiding in the shadows. Their sunken green eyes glowed from deep within the hood. What in the inferno is a gnok?
“I’ll take him, but if they come looking, everyone involved will disappear. Forever.” The threat lingered, and I could see Mario swallowing hard. “Good. Besides, removing a brain is a bit on the irreversible side.”
“Shit tits! My brain stays in my head.” I tried to yell, but it only came out in a throaty mumble.
“Did he say shit tits?” The American asked.
“Yea, one of his many issues is Tourettes. He seems to be fond of saying that one, you get used to it.”
The new doctor just shook his head. “Where do you find these rejects?”
I released my breath noisily as my shoulders sagged.
Did it really matter at this point? It was not like my imminent death was a secret, but—forgot what my point was. Damn, these drugs were amazing. Nothing like the ones back in my country. On my terms, I might have accepted this option, but damn my father for selling me off like a prized cow.
Dr. Mario left shortly after getting paid way more than he had told my father he was making on the deal. Not that I felt sympathy for the bastard. Selling off your kid took a special kind of monster.
“What is your--?” The American started to ask while he flipped through some papers. “Holy fuck, how many life-ending diseases can a person get? It’s like they are fighting each other off for the honor of killing you and none of them are finishing the job.” The doctor closed the medical file and turned his chair around to look at me. “Do they really call you Deuce?”
“Dus is my surname, but my first name is just Dee.”
“Your parents named you Dee Dus, as in Deduce?” The American doctor’s brows knit together in something that looked like disgust or horror.
“They call my brother Tayka, so I’m ok with Dee.”
“Your parents are real pieces of shit, but welcome to the Land of TMO.”
“Are you going to take my brain out?”
“My methods have improved. I can drill small holes now, and slide sensors in that will directly stimulate your brain. Creating full-immersion virtual reality is expensive and unethical. The powers that be are paying me a lot of money for this, and I got you for cheap.”
“What about those people?” I asked, pointing at the jars filled with human brains.
“Previous experiments. Initially, I had to remove their brain to understand where I had to connect the nodes. You are going to end up like them for a different reason.”
“They are still alive?”
“Yes—err most. Alive and living are two distinct things. Those early ones, starting over there at the left, were criminals. Death row inmates and most of them exist in some capacity in the game. They aren’t sentient or something. The ones on this wall, they are all very much living in the game. Some of them were terminal like you.”
The brains bobbed in a liquid suspension, pulsing to stimuli. Thousands of thin wires attached the brain, appearing as if it was hair.
“Looks like a hairy nut sack,” I said absently, and the doctor laughed.
“Anyway, those brains are property at this point, all owned by the Land of TMO and not even the government can touch them. It doesn’t matter if they are technically alive, because we somehow convinced the courts that without a body and lack of breath, they are not among the living. You are considered alive for at least the next week because as long as your brain is healthy, I’m going to have to pull it out. Your meat husk is not going to last.”
"What do you do with the bodies?" I asked.
The doctor laughed. “You are kind of morbid. We dispose of them of course. Why aren’t you freaking out? Most of you plead and beg and want me to release them. You don’t seem to give a shit.”
“Shit tits! Sorry. I am so damn high right now that most of my focus is on not laughing. Besides, my devil of a dad sold me into whatever the hell this is. And I’m dying of—of at least seven different diseases. Does it matter at this point if you put my brain in a jar?”
“Haha, I’m starting to like shit tits. All right, you have been understanding about this and are one of the first that seems at least willing to cooperate with me. I’m willing to make you a deal, and in return, you’ll get choices for your immortality. All I require is that you work with me and don’t freak out. I’ll help you pick out a character, give you some cool starter skills, maybe. There is no way to give you money, but I can give you some big quests with hefty payouts. What do you say?”
“I haven’t been outside in at least ten years. Locked in a basement with a GameBoy Advanced, so there are worse ways to spend my final days. Will it feel real?”
“You’ve no idea how real. In my testing, patients struggle to believe it’s a game. You can taste, smell, touch, and see a new reality. My last test achieved an astounding 87% immersion rating. At those levels, even death becomes risky. If the brain believes its dead, the person might die for real. Now we actively prevent syncing at that level.
“I’ll agree to those terms, but only if you keep me drugged up on whatever this shit is while you work.”
The doctor chuckled and just shook his head. “Sorry, but there are times I will need you unimpaired, but other than that you have a deal. You can call me Dr. Soulstoner. Now let's talk about this game and get you started. The entire process of getting you in the game will take hours. And do not think of reneging because I will make you a dickless goblin. In goblin culture, if you don’t have a dick, you make sandwiches and get fucked by whoever wants to fuck you.”
“Shit tits, man. You like your threats. I won’t go back on my word.” I should be scared. Everything in my body screamed danger, but the drugs were that good, and I blocked it all out. “Just one question… What the hell is a gnok?” I asked pointing at a poster.
“Ah, you will find out soon enough. Some dickhead in the game created a city called the Kongdom and calls himself the Father of the Goddess of Games. Her true name is Lit RoPlaGa, and she is a goddess in the Lower Pantheon of Genre-ations.”
“So she is a lesser god then?”
“Yeah. I do recommend learning about the various gods, but you generally have three tiers: Archgods, higher gods, and lesser gods. Typically, you won’t know which they are unless you know their true name. If their name begins with Fi, like Fi Scien, then that is a higher god. If it starts with Lit, like Lit RoPlaGa, then it’s a lesser god. Archgods are just called Archgods, like Archgod Zon.”
“Do I have to worship any of them?”
“No.” The doctor was laughing at me. “Your story wil
l honor them or it won’t. In the game, you are known as an Author, and you will even get a unique Author ability. The most powerful thing you have is the ability to change the game. At first, you won’t be able to do much, but once you get a better understanding of the game, you can submit a story and create a Fate line. If no other Author contests you, or puts forth a more compelling story, events will unfold as you designed them. These deeds will then get recorded, and anyone can see your accomplishments.”
“What if I don’t want to show anyone?”
“Not possible, but you can choose to have your events delayed by a week. That is to protect you during an event. Besides, your stories are crafted into actual novels by the Archgod Zon and sold. You will even get royalties, but you want to set it up for in-game currency since you can’t leave.” The doctor pulled out the tools of his trade, including a bone drill. “You cannot sleep for this. Ask me questions about the game, and I’ll explain the basics. Before you know it a few hours will pass and you’ll be online…”
We talked for several hours and worked out the perfect character for me, but things never go as planned.
In Game - Day 1
Chapter 3
Location: Character Creation
Stumbled. That was the first thing I did entering the new world, I stumbled. It was like going down a set of stairs and miscounting the stairs. I put my foot out expecting the ground, and it did not exist, so I stumbled. Not sure why I emphasized that part, probably the shock, but not from falling to my hands and knees.
Shit tits, I got four arms! The only rational thing my brain could register was that I stumbled. It occurred to me that it did not feel odd, but more like the game returned something that was missing. Moving the arms in random directions, clenching all four fists, and then shadowboxing I was at a loss for words. My mind adapted very quickly to the strangeness, and I could stop myself from laughing.
[ Welcome to the Land of Trademark Online! ]
The Land of Trademark Online Page 1
