Brad the Impaler: A LitRPG Adventure, page 8
If we were done with the tutorial first, and if my feelings about that cliff turned out to be accurate, we’d have a tremendous advantage. Maybe such a large one that we wouldn’t have to worry about anyone staking a claim near us because they’d see us as too established, too much of a threat.
I ran through scenarios and my early-game strategy, leaving allowances to adjust in case there was a twist at the end of the tutorial. I plotted the route we’d take to the promising elevated spot. I thought about the practical tools and weapons we’d need. I even gave consideration to how I could fashion a jacket for Slash. All this, I entertained while guiding my guide through her seemingly never-ending story.
Finally, she finished. “And that completes the tale of Darkworld. Now, adventurer, it is your time to write the fate of the world. Will you accept?”
“Do I have a choice?” I asked sarcastically.
She didn’t smile. I don’t think she got it.
I sighed. “Accept.”
“Excellent, adventurer! Welcome to Darkworld. We shall begin the tutorial now. Darkworld is vast. Many adventures await. It is a fully interactive world. As an adventurer, you can use the world for your purposes. Everything within the gameplay area is available for use, so do not fret about interacting with the realm or being limited by it. For your first quest, I will need you to collect three petals from a fire rose. Good luck!”
“You’ve got to be kidding?” I said.
“Good luck!”
The menu box slid down and disappeared from my vision. My guide blinked away.
I pushed myself up with a groan. “Well, we might as well get started.”
Slash trotted alongside me as we headed south. The route would take us around the farthest edge of the inlet. There, we could find the first solid ground to cross and start on my ultimate plan of getting to the rise and seeing if it could make a solid game home. “Do you even know what a fire rose is?”
“No. I doubt we’re going to see much of our world here. Keep your eyes open. We might as well get used to learning. A lot.” I stopped in my tracks when we’d reached the bottom of the hill, where a field of lily pads lay across the water. Two words hung in the air above the group of fifteen pads, floating stagnant in the water like college kids relaxing with drinks while crammed into inner tubes on a placid lake.
LILY PADS
I asked Slash if he saw them, too. “Yes. And I see words over the trees, that bush, the water, and—” He looked skyward. “Even the sky and clouds are labeled.”
I looked up to verify that I could see them. I could. “That’s going to get annoying.”
“Maybe there’s a menu option to turn it off once we get familiar with the game?”
I nodded, and we set off again. “That’ll be the first thing I check on after we find this damn flower.”
It didn’t take us long. Over the next rise, a single flower shot from the soil. At four feet tall, it was hard to miss. Even at a distance, it was easy to pick out the details. The petals were as large as ostentatious hand fans I’d seen in Eastern flicks, as red as an embarrassed teen, and covered in thorns as long as my thumb. To make things even more interesting, the thorns wiggled as if each had a mind of its own.
“There it is!” Slash said and bolted forward before I could stop him.
“Dammit.” I gave chase, reaching the flower well after he’d had the chance to approach, lowering his head to sniff the ground. He freaked himself out and yanked backward. “Next time, be careful. This could have been a trap.”
“This is a tutorial. Do you think they’d trap the first quest?”
I waved at the pristine world around us. “I’m not trusting these bastards. Be on your guard, okay? Practice makes perfect. If we get lazy about being cautious in the tutorial and the lower levels of the game, we might get ourselves killed later on.”
“Fortune said any injuries would be reset after the tutorial.” He shook his head, the effect jiggling his little body, all the way to his tail. “But that’s good thinking. Sometimes you’re not so dumb.”
“Gee, thanks.” I found a broken branch in the grass a few feet away. Using it, I poked the nearest petal. Thorns writhed and moved toward the branch like they were trying to sniff it. They curled, bent, and wiggled, just like thick, headless snakes.
“What are you doing?”
“Testing to make sure this isn’t booby-trapped.”
Slash snickered. “You said booby.”
I stopped poking the flower to shoot him an exasperated look. “Seriously? Get it out of your system now, please. If the game intends on forcing us to ally with other players, I don’t want you turning off helpful ones with juvenile jokes.”
“Oh, don’t be such a sourpuss. Booby is a funny word, don’t you think? Plus, it’s fun to say. Try it. Say ‘booby.’”
“I’d rather not.”
“Come on, what’s the harm? Booby.” He snickered again. “Booby. Come on. You know you want to. Booby.”
“Will you stop if I do?”
“Sure.”
“Fine. Booby.”
He snickered.
“Can we move on now?”
“Yes. Thank you for taking a second to not be serious.”
Lessons in life from a dog. This better be real, because if I wasn’t truly in a video game, I’d absolutely lost my mind.
After poking every petal, I dropped the stick. “Pretty sure it’s safe.”
Careful to keep my fingers as far away from the thorns as possible, I grabbed the petal as close to the stem as I dared and plucked it. The petal popped off the stem. Just above the flower, I saw a new notification.
FIRE PETAL (1/3)
Plucking the next, I got an updated notice.
FIRE PETAL (2/3)
I snagged the last one to complete the quest. This time, we got a new notification.
BOOM!
QUEST COMPLETE!
YOU’VE DESTROYED NATURE. GOOD JOB, FRIEND OF CLIMATE CHANGE DENIERS EVERYWHERE. YOU MUST BE REALLY PROUD OF YOURSELF. WHAT DID THAT FLOWER EVER DO TO YOU? ANYWAY, HERE’S YOUR REWARD. ENJOY YOUR LEVEL UP, DIRTBAG.
+5 XP
LEVEL UP! LEVEL 2!
ABILITY POINTS: 1
“We got five experience points for doing that?” Slash laughed and pawed at the air.
“We leveled up by picking a flower?” I asked out loud, without calling Fortune. If this game was like any I’d played over the years, I knew to expect her to be around as soon as I dismissed this notification.
As predictable as rain in the Pacific Northwest, Fortune popped up on my screen, half-covered by the menu box which read LEVELING UP at the top.
I groaned at the wall of text in the box. The writing team for this game really went all out. I didn’t bother reading the mini-encyclopedia.
“Congratulations, adventurer,” Fortune said with a huge smile. “You have leveled up.”
I held up my hand, stopping her.
“Sir?”
“Can you please stop calling me adventurer?”
“But I have to. The script we were provided—”
“I understand that, Fortune, but it’s annoying and tedious. Plus, I’m not an adventurer. I’m just a guy trying to not die. Whenever the script has you call me that, just skip it, okay?”
“Yes, sir.” She didn’t look convinced or happy to be directed to skip more of the dialogue. Fine by me. I wanted a proper guide, one whose actions weren’t being completely led by the game’s AI engine.
“Oh, and please don’t call me ‘sir’ either. Makes me feel weird.”
Fortune’s tanned skin lightened. “B-but, sir. Um. Adven—If neither term is acceptable, I am loath to admit that I am at a loss how to refer to you.”
“Brad. Please, just call me Brad.”
“You could call him Cowboy,” Slash said.
I coughed. “Where did you hear that?”
He waved a thin black and tan paw in the air. “Like I don’t know. Tess used to call you it all the time when you and her were trying to make puppies and wouldn’t let me on the bed.”
I rubbed my forehead. “Though I like your company, I’m wishing you didn’t get the power to speak.”
Ignoring me, Slash said, “She used to say ‘giddy up’ once in a while when she was sitting on him. Even when she faced away from him. We’d make eye contact, and I’d give her my best puppy dog eyes so she’d let me up, but she never did. To be fair, I would face away from Brad if I was trying to make puppies with him, too.”
“Can we just move on?” I said, trying to refocus the conversation. “Fortune, we have an Ability Point now. Should we use it to select an Ability path or wait until we’re done with the tutorial?”
The guide’s eyes lingered to the side, telling me she was still examining Slash and probably trying to figure out the context of his embarrassing sidebar story. Her gaze flicked to me, back to my pup, and to me once more. “Um, oh yes. Abilities. The decision is yours, si—um, Brad.”
I can’t lie. I appreciated she hadn’t felt empowered by my pooch to call me Cowboy.
“You can assign your point to one of the two paths, or you could wait until you gain your next one before deciding.”
“At what point will we get the next point?”
“At one hundred XP.”
“That’s not too bad.” Some of my favorite things about these types of games, dating all the way back to the first of their kind, were the early level-ups, buffs, and abilities gained while taking down simple monsters and exploring new worlds. Sure, the bonuses and improvements weren’t earth-shattering, but it was fun to get that dopamine hit with nearly constant upgrades. Later in games, when you needed thousands of XP to level, it always became a slog, even though the enemies and my character’s powers seriously upgraded. I doubted I’d ever be able to explain why. Just who I am. A simple man, I guess.
“I want to use mine now,” Slash said and spun in a quick circle.
“Not a good idea, wee man.” I felt the draw too. It was natural. Game designers, at least well-funded ones, had the backing of neurological studies. Companies understood how the human brain worked and they had no problems designing games around our collective mental vulnerabilities. It sold games, and that’s what they cared about. The capitalistic addiction.
The fact Slash was so excited to lock in his path with his first available point only confirmed that Darkworld was much like all the other games I’d played.
“Let’s just wait until we get a few Ability Points. If we can play without having to set our path or without needing the buffs that come along with the Abilities, then we should hold off. It’ll make us better players. Fortune, you said we can’t die in the tutorial, right?”
“That’s correct, si—Brad.”
“Can we accumulate enough XP in the tutorial to gain another Ability Point?”
“Yes.”
“What about two?”
She was silent for a second. “It is possible, but you would have to complete every objective before leaving the tutorial and entering the game proper. Is that to your liking?”
Slash looked up at me, giving me his wet Chihuahua puppy dog eyes. I softened my tone. “Look, buddy. It’ll be tedious. But if we stay in the tutorial and put up with this crap long enough to get two more Ability Points, we can see the first buffs of the path before we start playing. That’ll leave us with a point left over to activate the second path. That way, we can adjust without being too invested in one if we don’t like what it gives. I’d rather have options early in the game than have to scramble to adjust later. A little patience, okay? That’s all I’m asking.”
He lowered his head. After a moment, he said, “Fine. But only because you’re my human pet. I wouldn’t agree to this with anyone else.”
I bent and scratched between his ears. “Thanks, buddy.” When I stood, I asked Fortune about our next quests that would take us to a hundred XP, and two Ability Points. They were worse than I’d imagined. Worse than picking flower petals.
We had to fill waterskins and drink them within thirty seconds. Because we were so dehydrated, that wasn’t a problem. We had to throw a rock at a blackbird. We didn’t have to actually hit the poor animal. The thrown rock earned us the XP. We had to find a traveling merchant and barter. Success didn’t matter in terms of XP, so I insisted on getting it over with as quickly as possible, especially once Slash tried to work the man for beefy treats.
The NPC seemed as confused about what a dog treat was as Slash did about why the guy didn’t have a pocket full of them. That part took longer than I would have liked, but soon enough, we were off to complete other essential tasks like learning how to jump, squat, hide, and sprint. We had to run a mile. Talk about tedious. We had to collect fifty-one red flags that looked an awful lot like the banner flapping on our menu boxes. Not sure why the game gave us an odd number, but we plugged on without complaint, though Slash reminded me how hungry he was after every two or three collected flags.
“As soon as we’re done,” I said, pushing Fortune for the next, and then the next, quest.
That included a mini-quest called Pick Up Sticks where we had to explore an entire field of sunflowers to find one hundred and three sticks. Broken branches counted. I probably would have pulled every single one of my short-cropped hairs out if it hadn’t been for Slash’s keen sense of smell. He made quick work of the task.
In the end, we’d completed twenty-one quests, and gained not only the required XP, but two Ability Points.
When we were done, we both sighed. Me, in frustration. Slash’s was from hunger. He seemed unbothered by XP, Ability Points, or anything else.
“What now?” he asked.
“Now, we freaking eat.”
11
Raspberry Berets
Gluttony had nothing on us after we completed the ridiculous tutorial. Fortune led us through a shimmering gateway to a meadow that had been swarmed with raspberry bushes for hundreds of years, in game-time, by all appearances. A sea of fat, leafy overgrown greenery from which hung even fatter, red raspberries. My mouth watered.
Slash bounded forward. I reached for him, but he was beyond my grasp within his first few looping strides. “Whoa, wee man. Stop!”
Fortune popped up. “Do not fret, si—Brad. This is a Free Zone. There is no gameplay. No traps, enemies, or quests. The Electors designed Free Zones as areas for entrants to rejuvenate, rest, and recuperate. Many use these areas to meet other entrants and discuss the game, strategies, their holdings, and the such.”
“Building alliances, you mean?”
“Yes. That is often done here.”
For as far as I could see, raspberry bushes grew so close together that anything could hide within the green wall they created. To know this area was off-limits was exciting. On the one hand, I worried why they would give us this allowance. On the other, I embraced it. My suspicion was that once things ratcheted up, everyone stuck here would need decompression time. It’d make us better players, thus making the experience more entertaining for the butchers. Happy customers were repeat customers.
“Where are the microphones?” I asked.
Fortune looked confused. “Microphones?”
“Listening devices, so the game can eavesdrop on our conversations.”
Fortune shook her head. Her long, loose curls swayed unnaturally over her bare shoulders. “No. No. That is not allowed. Plus, the Electors did not wish to listen in on the Free Zones.”
Slash ran from raspberry bush to raspberry bush. He’d nibble at a juicy berry, then skip away to eat from another. Sometimes he’d stop to lift his leg and pee on a bush whose berries he didn’t approve of. His limp ears flopped as he loped through and around the bushes. Free Zones could be a place where he’d be free and happy. That brought a serenity I hadn’t felt since opening that stupid chest, or gateway, or whatever it was called.
“Are all Free Zones like this? Fields of berries?”
“No. Riches such as you see here fill many. Others are simple resting places with comfortable beds. We also have quite a bawdy tavern Free Zone with more mead than anyone should drink. There are gorgeous gardens and treetop retreats as well. One of the most wondrous aspects of Darkworld is its diversity.”
I thought about the snakelike thorns on the fire rose. “Yeah. Diversity.”
Eating until my stomach was full refreshed my body and finally felt rested. The red bar in the top corner of my vision had disappeared throughout the tutorial, only showing again when I ate my first berry. I hadn’t noticed the red filler moved slightly to the right. Only when Fortune popped on my screen to let me know that resting had replenished my Health did the cost of physical activity register. A devious little trick of the Electors, to make even mundane activities use a player’s Health. A note I tucked away because I was sure it’d come up again.
Slash yipped.
I panicked until I remembered Fortune said Free Zones were also free of harm.
My seven-pound terror was squaring off against an overgrown raspberry bush. Its looping branches stretched four feet over its root, hanging low with healthy fruit. The damn thing looked like it was wearing a leafy, green beret. And it was scaring the piss out of Slash. Literally. Tiny beads of golden nervousness dripped to the ground where he stood, legs spread, yapping and barking. He dashed to the side and barked every time a slight breeze ruffled one of the bush’s leaves.
“Little Sir is quite adorable,” Fortune said. From my perspective, she was looking directly at me, but it was obvious she was referring to his confrontation with the bush. “He will need to work on his Courage skill before too long. I fear it could become a detriment.”
“Yeah, that won’t happen.” I smirked as my little buddy carefully approached the bush and brought his snout up to sniff at a berry. He snatched it and raced a safe distance away before chomping down. “Everything scares him. Plus, he has me. As long as I’m here, he’s protected.”
After a quiet moment, Fortune smiled. Strange how comfortable I was conversing with this digital woman implanted in my eye.
