Two months. That’s the equivalence. This could comfortably last me two months. Weird.
I shrug my bag off my shoulder and take out the coin purse, slipping the new pieces inside. If silver is the base currency, I should probably convert some of those gold pieces. They have to have banks, right?
Wait. Is my coma dream really going to have me standing in line at a bank doing currency exchange?
But this isn’t really a coma dream, is it? Just because it’s logical doesn’t mean it’s the real answer. Which would mean, among other things, that I shot someone with a bow and arrow. Yeah, they almost blew me up in return, but I shot someone with a bow and arrow.
Probably.
Maybe.
No. I’m not giving into that yet.
I need to pee.
I take my bag with me and find an indoor privy (thankfully) at the end of the hall along with a wash basin where I wash my hands under a faucet that glows a vague blue and produces lukewarm running water, which is nice and unexpected. There’s even a tub up here, though no signs of a shower, which is a little gross. Who knows how many people have sat in that tub.
I wish I’d had sanitizing wipes in my bag. If it were closer to the pandemic, it would have been part of the swag: themed wipes, hand sanitizer, and a two-sizes too-big, themed face mask. But things have long moved on from that.
Returning to my room, I think about eating but suddenly just feel exhausted. I re-lock the door, then take off my boots and prop them against the wall. I stuff my bag under the pillow and strip down to my underwear so I’m not sleeping in clothes that I fought cultists in— though it’s still weird there’s not any blood or dirt on them.
Magic.
I fall backward onto the bed.
[Menu].
The small box pops up information in the semi-circle to the right-hand side.
[Personal Status]
[Squad Status]
[Inventory]
[Equipment]
[Journal]
[Achievements (2)]
[Map (Locked)]
What are these [Achievements]? I noticed a (1) when I looked earlier but didn’t remember getting a notification. Must have happened while I was unconscious.
The [Achievements] window comes up with two round images illuminated. They look like bas reliefs like the type that would be found on coins. One says [Survivor] underneath it and the other corresponds with the one I just unlocked: [Fellowship]. I mentally pull up [Survivor].
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.
[SURVIVOR: You survived your first encounter! Good on you. Is this the first of many?]
The image is hard to parse, but it looks like a figure being carried by another. Alright, so that must account for that initial XP. Achievements often come with XP, don’t they? I try to picture a console’s menu and the brass, silver, and gold trophies that correspond to each achievement’s challenge rating. I pull up the next.
[FELLOWSHIP: Aw, you have people willing to give you a chance. Don’t let them down!]
“Who wrote these things?” I mutter, feeling like the attitude is a bit contrary to the whole serious high fantasy vibe that the rest of the situation emulates. This bas relief shows what appears to be a group of different faces arranged in a circle around the coin, though the details are difficult to make out.
I think the window closed and page through some of the others. They’re all grayed out and locked, though— no clues to be had. I don’t bother to count them, but there’s a lot. I guess I’ll discover what they are as I grind forward.
What happens if I don’t, though? What if I say to hell with this whole adventure thing, get a job tending bar downstairs, and wait out my insanity here? Would the adventure come find me? Would I be destined to just die here? Or would rejecting it cause me to wake up or somehow get booted out of the game environment?
It’s an interesting idea: just sit it out. Reject the call. Simply not adventure.
But I also can’t deny I’m curious. And I can’t deny that I have a bunch of pent-up wanderlust. Before the pandemic, that’s where almost every extra cent went: traveling the world. Hiking the Inca Trail. Snorkeling the Great Barrier Reef. Seeing Middle Earth. The next trip was going to be Mount Kilimanjaro, but then, well, the world stopped. I haven’t traveled since.
I don’t know if this is real or a figment of my imagination, but if I just sit here in a tavern and try to wait it out, that just feels like a waste. What types of things are available to me right now? What can I do? Dream or not, dangerous or not, weird or not, who says no to this sort of thing? Haven’t I spent thousands of dollars to try to mimic this kind of experience on my couch? And now, I’m experiencing it— even if it is just a particularly vivid hallucination.
I have to give it a try. That’s just how it is.
Going back to [Menu], I look at [Personal Status] one more time and find that, indeed, my [XP] has risen from 15/300 to 30/300. Fifteen points for entry level achievements feels okay from a progression standpoint, but I wonder how many goblins or whatever I’ll have to kill to really level up. And what if the system only rewards XP to those who take the creature down? In a five-person party that could slow down the pace for all of us—though the others don’t seem that worried. I wonder how close they are to the next level. Or are they already [Level 2]? [Level 3]? Higher? Judging from Flynt’s reaction they would have no idea.
Beyond that, though— and this is the big one— if I accept this as some kind of reality, can I actually kill something? I’m the one who catches and releases every spider. I’ve cried over vitally necessary mass ant murder. Don’t get me started on the time I couldn’t avoid that squirrel. It still haunts me. Sure, I was able to shoot that one guy, but I wasn’t bought-in at the time (oi, does that mean I’m bought-in now?) and, frankly, I didn’t even expect to hit anyone at the time. Plus, the three damage struck by said arrow must’ve been the equivalent of a papercut to a dude who required veteran adventurers to be taken down. Bedrick Brathwaithe doesn’t strike me as the type to unsheathe his sword for less than a [Level 10] baddie.
I page back and pull up [Squad Status] only to find the message:
[No Allies in Range]
I sigh. [Journal], meanwhile, doesn’t tell me anything I don’t already know: a to-the-point account of the people I met (the first guy to yell at me was apparently called Timalt, which feels vaguely Shakespearian of him), the brief battle (I hit [Ice Dragon Cultist Priest] for 3 damage; I was then hit by [Chaotic Blast], dealing 14 damage— confirmed to be more than my total) after which I was in something called [Bleed Out] (death-saves, I guess?) before I was healed. The account then notes that I failed [Quest: Fireball!] before chronicling my meeting Grayson Archibald Stormbringer III (of course he has numerals) and Bedrick Brathwaithe. It includes adding five gold pieces to [Inventory], and ends with [Achievement: Fellowship]. Honestly, I’m not sure what use [Journal] will be except maybe for name recall.
I dismiss the [Menu] and lie there staring at the ceiling for a long while until I feel my brain start to drift. I ache all over. In the distance, I hear a bell starting to chime and find myself counting it. I get to seven before I drift off to sleep.
Then, at around what I guess to be two in the morning, I discover exactly what Flynt meant by a runaway wagon and momentarily wish the [Ice Dragon Cultist Priest] had managed to kill me.