by Felix Craft
I opened my eyes to a ring of green around a blue circle. I blinked, and it came into focus — a ring of trees around a blue sky.
What the hell?
I sat up, rubbed my head, and looked around. Tall, cheery trees surrounded me on all sides but one. There, a path led away from my clearing to what looked like a village cut-and-pasted from any touristy town in Germany.
What the hell was that doing here? Where was here? And what the flying fuck was I doing there?
I startled as something jumped out in front of me. Or rather, appeared — it was a translucent projection, though where the projector was hidden beat me. As I watched, a shadowy figure materialized on the screen.
“Welcome to MythRune,” a deep male voice dripping with drama said. “A land of adventure and opportunity. A world of monsters and wonder. A realm you help shape.”
MythRune. My stomach sank as I remembered how I’d gotten here. As the cowled figure continued talking in front of me, all I could think about was how my body had been put to sleep without my permission and now I was thrown into this game when I had no intention of being here. I wasn’t going to stand for this.
“Let me out!” I ordered the narrator, having no one else to demand anything of. Aside from the two of us, the clearing around me was empty.
The video ignored me, of course. “To navigate this world, you will have to learn many new skills. Combat—”
The projection transitioned to a battle scene, men and women, humans and strange races I didn’t recognize, all trying to hack each other to pieces.
“Leadership—”
The battle panned to a commander in a plumed helmet, pointing and shouting into the fray, though not one word could be heard.
“And Magic—”
The next scene showed another enrobed figure throwing balls of blue light into a group of ugly creatures, then the ball bursting, setting the creatures aflame.
“But MythRune is not just for the warriors, warlords, and mages. No world is forged by the sword alone. You will also learn Crafting—”
The image transformed into a blacksmith clanging inside his smithy, a red-hot sword beneath his hammer.
“Trading—”
Then came a merchant leading a donkey, pulling his wares through crowded streets.
“Potions—”
“Oh, stop it already!” I didn’t give a damn about MythRune. I just wanted to log out and get the hell out of the server room before someone found me. “I just want to know how to log off!”
The tutorial video froze and another projection popped up over:
You are seeing this message because you’re a new player and you said the words “log off” or “log out.” In the future, to log off or activate the other menu features, you must begin your request with “Command,” then say your request. For example, if you wish to log off, simply confirm this by saying “Command: Log off.”
Now that was more like it. “Command: Log off.”
There was a brief pause, then another prompt appeared:
Log off attempt failed.
I stared at the message. What did it mean, log off failed? How could I not log off? “Command: Log off!”
A moment later the same message appeared:
Log off attempt failed.
“Command: Get me the fuck out of here!”
Apparently, that wasn’t in the playbook.
Not knowing what else to do, I stood up, and the projection of the welcome video dissipated in a fizzle of pixels. I regretted that instantly. What if it had told me how to log off properly?
“Command: Show me the welcome tutorial.”
Gritting my teeth, I stood through the opening video again, impatiently waiting for what came after. There was more introductory stuff — something about joining guilds, gaining property, and completing quests — but I spaced out until the narrator arrived at activating menu items. Putting Command in front of any number of requests would bring up things like character stats, inventory, and maps. But when it came to the part I cared about, it didn’t tell me anything different, just that “Command: Log off” should do the trick.
I dismissed the tutorial with a — wait for it — command, then stared around me. The village in the distance caught my eye. Maybe there’d be someone there who could tell me how to get the hell outta there.
As I took my first step, I noticed something. I was a bit chilly. Looking down, I quickly saw why. I was wearing nothing but a rough, man-sized diaper.
“What the fuck is this place?” I yelled to the world around me. If I hadn’t been freaking out about being stuck inside a video game, I might have been just as freaked out to realize how real it all felt. The grass and rocks prickled under my feet. As I’d already mentioned, the day was warm, but the breeze raised goosebumps on my bare skin. I took a deep breath and smelled blossoms on the air — real magical ambiance. I’d have appreciated it … if I’d wanted to be there.
Did Danny know I wouldn’t be able to log off? I couldn’t think of any reason why that would be. Maybe it was an unanticipated side effect of the virus that had no doubt been in the flash drive. But surely a guy who could design a world this realistic wouldn’t make a mistake like that, right?
I wouldn’t find out anything if I didn’t get out of there. So bracing myself for public embarrassment, I jogged toward the village.
When I reached the half-erected stone fence at the beginning of the village, I stopped and looked around. I spotted a small stand with a sign that read, “Fresh Adventurers!” That seemed like a decent place to start, so bracing myself for social interaction in this ridiculous underwear, I walked up to the stand.
A matronly woman with frizzy gray hair — she had hints of it on her upper lip and chin, too — was sitting there, knitting. When she looked up, her expression immediately became sympathetic. “Oh dear. Another one, is it?”
“Yup.” I kept it short, trying to hold my temper in check. No need to take it out on the old bat.
“Of course, you adventurers all start that way. Don’t worry, dear — nothing I haven’t seen before.” She smiled sweetly up at me. “Now if you’ll wait a moment, I’ll get you some clothes to walk about in.”
I waited, nearly twitching with impatience. It suddenly struck me that this woman — all the people in this town — were just lines of computer code. I stared dumbly at the woman as she moved around, humming to herself. She looked like she’d just got back from playing bingo at the old folks’ home. Danny had made something incredible here, that was for sure. For other people, I could see how this was an escape.
But for me, it was a prison.
If I didn’t get the hell out of Dodge, someone was bound to come across my body lying in the rig, especially if the virus had already started to spread.
The woman returned with a small pile of clothes and a pair of boots on top. “You can equip your items by accessing your inventory with a voice command.”
I thanked her — if they acted like people, I may as well treat them as such — then went to the small stand to change clothes. They were simple and itchy, but at least I was dressed, and they fit fine, almost seeming to mold themselves to my form as I put them on.
Walking back around, I asked the woman, “Do you know where I can get out of here?”
She blinked at me, her kitting pausing in her hands. “Out of here?” She gestured back behind her. “There are three roads out of town, dear. Any one of them lead out of here.”
“I mean log off.”
“Log off?” Suddenly, she snapped her fingers. “Ah, you must be looking for the lumberjack!” She hesitated. “Though I’m not sure why you would. In any case, he’s straight down the road, over yonder.”
I kept a smile plastered on and muttered, “Good hell, where are the real people?”
“How now?”
“Thanks.” My patience on a frayed leash, I walked away before saying anything more.
Though I very much doubted the lumberjack would be able to help me, I hea
ded “over yonder” through the heart of the town. People — NPCs, I reminded myself from Danny and my gaming days — milled the streets, some pleasantly acknowledging their fellow pedestrians, others acting like this was a busy New York subway station and bulling through with sour looks. Apparently even computer-generated people could be assholes. Signs hung from the buildings declaring what they housed: Blacksmith, General Store, Potions … and on and on.
Just to make sure no one else knew what I was talking about, I stopped by a respectable-looking merchant standing at his outdoor shop. He wore a bright green turban and a pleasant smile.
“Excuse me, do you know how I can log off?” I asked, forcing a polite smile. It quickly eroded when the merchant, just as confused as the first woman, and pointed me towards the lumberjack as well. Wondering if it was some kind of cruel pun and the lumberjack actually was who I needed to talk to, I stalked over to his house. The lazy bastard was at home drinking on his porch. Once again, I wondered at the moral fiber of these NPCs.
“Hey man, can you tell me how to log off?”
The lumberjack pointed to his axe, a plain, no-nonsense tool that no proper dwarf in Middle Earth would’ve been caught dead with. “I’ve had a bit too much to drink, friend. Would you mind finishing up my work for the day? I need to fell three more trees or the village chieftain won’t be happy! Just be sure to return my tools when you’re done.”
A semi-transparent window obscured the lazy-ass guy and his porch.
New Quest!
The village lumberjack has had a bit too much to drink on his afternoon break. Help him out by felling some trees on the edge of the forest.
Task: Chop down three trees near the outskirts of Thistleburg.
Difficulty: Easy
Reward: 75 xp, improved relations with Thistleburg.
I hefted the axe. The dude hiccupped and nodded in approval. Maybe that was the way out — I just need to chop my own fucking head off. Too pissed off to care, I walked off with the axe and no intentions of fulfilling the stupid quest.
I started checking at every store, with every passerby, and still I came up empty-handed. Finally, I plopped down in the middle of the village green, which rose up on a slight hill. I watched the computer-generated people mill by and felt like someone was going to start the intro to a musical. A musical I was trapped in. Reality sank in — I was stuck. I’d never get out of this place.
Then I saw her.
She was walking down the middle of the dirt road, standing out like a prom queen in a Walmart. She wore a scuffed steel breastplate and matching armor on her arms and legs with dirty brown leather everywhere else. A tall shield hung on her back, the lip of it emerging over her shoulders, the bottom bumping against a spiked mace dangling from her waist. Here was a woman who knew what was going on, or would know someone who would. Maybe she was even a real person.
Wishing I knew how to tell, I suddenly remembered a command from the tutorial and muttered, “Command: Analyze.”
A translucent screen popped up in front of me.
Name: Leesha_22
Level: 10
Class: Rogue
Current Profession: Caravan Guard
(More information available for party members.)
So, she was another player, unless her name was some unfortunate coding typo. And at level 10, she definitely knew more about this game than me. I rose and walked toward her.
She saw me coming when I was still at the end of the street, and her eyes narrowed. I didn’t worry myself with what that meant, just hurried toward her. She turned away and increased her pace in the other direction.
I walked faster.
When she saw I wasn’t going to give up, she stopped and sighed. “Fine. What is it, noob? No, I don’t want to be your girlfriend, I’m not going to give you anything, and I don’t want to team up.”
Noob? Really? “What are we, twelve?”
She just stared impassively at me. “What do you want?”
Right. I’d forgotten for a second that I was kind of at her mercy. “Uh, I need to get out of here.”
One dark eyebrow raised. She pointed off into the horizon. “Pick a direction. This is a pretty low-level area, you can make it to another town without being killed if you stick to a road.”
“No, like out of here, out of here. Out of the game.”
She gave me a look that I imagined was similar to the one I’d just showed the lumberjack. “Then log off.”
“I tried that. ‘Command: Log off,’ and all that.”
Her eyes scrunched up. “That should have taken you away from bothering me.” She gave a heavy sigh. “You need to find a mod.”
“A what?”
“Holy shit. A game moderator. A Germaine Studios employee here to help noobs like you.”
This Leesha_22 might have been helping me, but damn, was she getting on my nerves. Still, I held my temper in check. “Got it. So where is this mod?”
“There’s always one in noob-towns like this. You’ll find him eventually.” Leesha_22 turned and started walking away.
“Wait, Leesha_22!” I kept pace next to her. “I have to get out of here as soon as I can. It’s important. I’ve got something important going on — ” I struggled to remember the gaming vernacular. “— IRL!”
She kept walking. “First off, it’s just Leesha — nobody says the numbers or whatever in a gamertag. Clear sign you’re a noob. I’m not calling you Zane_SD21 or anything.”
“Wait, what?” I hadn’t assigned myself a name. It was easy enough to figure out where the SD21 came from, considering that was the room where my body was snoozing while I was stuck in this stupid game. But it seemed like Leesha expected me to have chosen it myself.
“Second,” she continued, “if you couldn’t tell, I’m busy. So, scram.”
Then she shouldered me aside roughly and continued down the street.
“What a dick,” I muttered to myself. But I had bigger problems than a bitchy player. I set to sniffing out the mod.
It took me a nerve-wracking half hour to finally find him. In the end, it was a rather obvious house in one corner of town, a sign hanging outside painted with a red question mark in a circle. Seemed to me that the powers that be — cough, Danny — could have made it easier for new players to get help. But at least I was here.
I knocked and waited at the front door. The mod, a rotund middle-aged fellow who had rich clothing and a cape thrown over one shoulder, sniffed and looked at me petulantly. “Ah, another noob. How can I help you?”
Was everyone an asshole here? “I’m stuck,” I said without preamble. “I can’t log off.”
The look the mod gave me made me seethe. “Did you try the command for it? Do you know what commands are?”
I ground my teeth. “Yes, I do. But it’s not working.”
The mod sighed. “Probably doing it wrong.”
Where was a customer service survey when you needed one? “What’d you say?”
“I’ll have to reset your account,” he said, this time to me. “That will boot you from MythRune and should reset any bugs in your functionality. Any questions? Good.”
Before I could answer, the mod’s eyes glazed over, and I figured he was looking at menus visible only to him. Then he nodded, looked at me, and waved.
The world started coming apart, pixels leaking away like sand in the surf. Blank blackness quickly encroached on my vision. Some part of me couldn’t help but be afraid. What if nothing came after?
The mod disappeared as the decay reached him, stretching and disappearing. Then it was my turn. Goodbye forever, MythRune, I thought with satisfaction. Hello, easy life,
I opened my eyes to blue sky and a ring of green trees. Bolting upright, I looked around.
I was in the same area I’d spawned in an hour before. Still in MythRune. But once again in medieval underwear.
Before I had time to react, the same translucent projection as before popped up, with the same shadowy figure and the
same overacted voice. “Welcome to MythRune.”
“No.” I shook my head, disbelieving. “No, no, no…”
“A land of adventure and opportunity,” the narrator boomed over me. “A world of monsters and wonder —”
“SHUT UP!” I shouted at him, standing. The projection moved with me as I stood.
“A realm you help to build.”
I thought back to how I got it to stop last time. “Log off! Command: Log off!”
Once again, it froze, and the message appeared again:
You are seeing this message because you’re a new player and you said the words “Log off.” In the future, to log off or activate the other menu features, you must begin your request with “Command,” then say your request. For example, if you wish to log off, simply confirm this by saying “Command: Log off.”
“Command: Log off!”
Log off attempt failed.
“Gah!”
I stormed back to the village and, not bothering to stop by the “New Adventurer” stand for clothes, marched up to the mod’s door. My fist slammed against the door hard enough, I felt a real tingle through the sensors in my hands. The mod answered with a furious expression, but when he saw me, all anger bled away to astonishment. “You!” he exclaimed. “I booted you!”
“Apparently not.” I crossed my arms. “Now are you going to do your job or what?”
The mod was already furiously flying through his menus with muttered commands under his breath. Soon enough, the world was peeling away again.
Then I woke in the same grove as before. In the same unclothed state as before. With the same stupid narrator in the same stupid welcome video. “Welcome to MythRune!”
3
Reset
I tried one more time before giving up on the incompetent moderator. The last time, I told him I knew Danny, but all he gave me was a skeptical look.
“You think we haven’t heard that before?”
He put in a ticket to Customer Service and looked up my account, but apparently nothing was there. I wasn’t surprised. If Danny wanted me to take down this POS game, of course he wouldn’t want me to exist in the system. Still, the guy probably didn’t know what he was doing. I resigned myself to being stuck in the land of adventure and opportunity or whatever until I could find some other, more capable mod to get me out.