by Paul Bellow
“Who’s talking about me?” I asked as I walked over.
She scrunched up her nose as I approached.
“You need a bath,” she said, still smiling.
“I need a lot of things, and that’s one of them.”
We walked toward the spot near the field where they fed us twice a day. Only slaves who worked were allowed to eat. From what I’d seen, the virtual prison wasn’t for the weak.
After arriving at our destination, Jasmine grabbed her bowl of gruel and cup of water.
I did the same. The bland mixture had the consistency of oatmeal and none of the taste. It was that bad, but I had to have sustenance.
Suicide attempts resulted in even more punishments by the gamemaster, so I hadn’t even considered that as an option for escape.
The food was the least of my worries as we sat down at a wooden picnic table next to the fields where we labored all day under the hot sun. Slaves lived notoriously short lives. How could I last an entire year under such excruciating circumstances?
Jasmine smiled.
“You’re the quietest half-orc I’ve ever met,” she said then spooned some of the gruel into her mouth.
“Have you met a lot of half-orcs?” I asked.
She giggled then said, “No. You’re the only one.”
Jasmine’s optimism that everything would work out amazed me until I realized she’d been programmed to think so. She had limited free will from what I could tell. All the NPCs could make small decisions on their own, but their overriding goals in life were controlled.
The longer I spent inside the game, the more I realized how revolutionary the time dilation aspect would be for society as a whole. Humankind might be about to take a giant leap forward when it came to progress, and being stuck inside the Tower of Gates made me part of it.
I smiled as I ate and enjoyed the early morning sun before the heat got too unbearable. Maybe Jasmine had it right. Everything would work out in the end if I played it smart and kept my emotions under control.
The same routine haunted me day after miserable day. None of the others seemed worried about their captivity. Whenever I attempted to talk about the game, something stopped me. That made it even worse. I had no idea where I’d spawned. Were the others nearby?
“You look tired,” Jasmine said.
Of the ten other slaves, she was my favorite since the first day I helped her and unlocked a possible clue for getting my penalty to end early.
“The monotony is getting to me,” I said.
She nodded, standing next to me. Her frail frame reminded me of Sarah. Everything reminded me of my missing girlfriend.
“There’s a way to break it,” she said.
I glanced down at her.
“What way?” I asked.
She looked up, her bright blue eyes sparkling in the sun.
“The arenas,” she said.
I took a deep breath. Over the past couple of days, a few of the others had talked about the arena in Fishguard. They said it was a way out of our everyday misery.
“The masters will send you eventually,” she continued. “Whether you like it or not, you’re built for it. They’ll make more money off you as a fighter than as a farmer.”
“I don’t want them making any money off me.”
She frowned and turned away, looking out at the field where we worked.
“I’ve got a plan,” I began.
“Don’t tell me.” She stepped away then turned. “I don’t want any part of it.”
“That’s fine,” I said then watched her walk toward the barn where we lived.
I went over my escape plan in my mind. Waking up earlier than everyone would give me a bit of time to gather some type of weapon then slip away into the woods.
While going over it step by step, Earl, the old farmer, walked up behind me.
“I need to talk with you, Yorg,” he said.
As I turned, I noticed a pair of steel shackles in his hands.
“What’s going on?” I asked. “My quota is filled for the day.”
Earl leered at me like a man who thought he was in control.
“Don’t you want something more out of life?” he asked.
I noticed his two sons, Atlas and Adlar, in my peripheral vision.
“What’s going on?” I asked, stepping back.
“Calm down, big guy,” Earl said. “It’s time I made back the money I spent on you.”
Rage that went way beyond my brief stint as a barbarian flared up deep inside me.
Why did everyone have to assume I was a big, dumb jock? Even in this stupid game.
I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself.
“Now!” Earl shouted.
His two boys grabbed my arms.
Atlas sneered at me and said, “I’ll be talking to Jasmine alone tonight after you’re gone.”
After protecting her for the last several nights in captivity, I lost it.
“No!”
“Let me get these on,” Earl said.
He walked behind me as the two young men held my arms. I wouldn’t get in-game bonuses for raging as an NPC, but I couldn’t contain my primal emotions any longer.
“Let me go!” I shouted then broke from their grasp.
I ran, but then I spun around when I heard them pulling short swords out of their belts. I crouched and raised my arms.
“Calm down, big guy,” Earl said.
“Jasmine will forget about you soon enough,” Atlas said.
Both sons snickered. Something broke inside me.
Unconnected to the game, I went into a rage.
Years of pent-up emotions burst through the dam I’d carefully constructed over the years.
Their eyes all widened as I rushed toward them with a yell. I plowed into Atlas, knocking him to the ground. He screamed as I scooped up his sword.
“Put it down!” Earl demanded.
“Or die!” Adlar added.
He charged at me with his sword raised.
While I didn’t have skills or stats, I knew how to wield a sword. The fencing classes at high school would finally pay off.
Adlar lunged at me. I easily parried then stepped aside. Atlas got to his feet as Adlar rushed at me again. I held out my sword. My long reach won as he ran onto my sword.
“No!” Atlas screamed, rushing toward me, enraged.
Your owner is dead.
No alignment penalty awarded.
Warning: You are now a wanted man.
“For self-defense?” I shouted at the game notification as Atlas reached me.
He swung wildly, missing completely. I slashed at him, my steel running across his neck. As he fell to the ground, bleeding profusely, Earl raised his sword.
“You’re going to pay,” he said through gritted teeth.
Still hopped up on adrenaline and pure rage, I ran at him with my sword raised. He dropped his weapon and turned to run, but I stabbed him in the back.
The dull short sword went through his chest as he gasped. I pulled the weapon out and watched him fall to the ground. A bell sounded in the distance.
I grabbed the pouch on Earl’s waist before running toward the woods. Would I make it before other slave masters in the community came after me?
Thoughts of Jasmine hit me. I stopped and turned, looking toward the barn. A half-dozen men had already gathered. I cursed under my breath then ran.
She would have to deal with her own problems. I needed to find Eric and Sarah. The rest of the computer-generated people could die for all I care.
As I ran, still gripping the sword, I wondered about my fate. Only one week into my year-long sentence scared me. While tough, I still had doubts.
I reached the woods and kept running, not slowing down until hours after sunset. Nestled underneath a rotting log in the woods, I fell asleep.
I crept forward on my belly toward a nest. Eggs had never been my favorite in the real world, but after a week on the run with little food, I needed someth
ing.
Hunters continued looking for me in the vast forest, but I managed to avoid them and stay alive. Every day, I cursed the game and Magi Inyontoo.
I needed to be more careful about who I trusted here. The mage who had killed me probably thought of me as nothing more than a brute.
Upon reaching the nest, I snatched a sizeable egg. The mother bird returned as I cracked it open and drank the contents raw. It squawked loudly.
“We’re having meat tonight,” I said under my breath as I stood.
The big stork-like bird kept going nuts as I pulled my sword. With a quick, short thrust, I ended its life. I glanced around, ears open for anything, as it bled out.
While I had managed to avoid the men chasing me for an entire week, I didn’t want my luck to run out. As in sports and life, I had to work hard for my so-called luck.
Hearing nothing, I picked up the bird by its feet then salvaged the other two eggs in the nest. I walked back to my hideout with the creature slung over my shoulder.
A fire would be dangerous, but if I kept it small, I would be okay. The protein from the meat would do me good. I needed all my energy just to stay alive.
Without stats and notification windows popping up all the time, I found myself slowly accepting life in the game as my new reality. Only two weeks in, I felt tired.
Back at my impromptu camp between three strategically fallen trees, I pulled the flint and steel from Earl’s pouch. His few silver coins would do me no good.
I started a small fire then plucked the feathers from the bird. My real-life skills had once again saved me inside the game.
I remembered hunting with my father. My outlook on life had been shaped by him in many ways. He had a very rigid idea of what it meant to be a man, and he had pushed me my entire life to become an extreme athlete, a jock.
Sarah and everyone else in my life saw me as nothing more than a muscle without a brain, but I strived to develop the courage to break out of my stereotype.
When I finished plucking the bird, I situated it above the flickering flames. Voices nearby caught my attention. I threw dirt on the fire, extinguishing it.
“I swear I saw smoke,” a deep, masculine voice said.
Lying on my back, I reached around for the short sword.
Am I about to die?
Will I survive?
The voices drew closer.
2
Initiate Initial Initiation
Josh
“That stupid half-orc barbarian is probably dead.”
It was another voice—another man.
I sat up and saw a group of five humans standing in the woods.
“Are you with Magi Inyontoo?” I asked as I got to my feet.
“Told you we’d find him,” a man in red robes said.
I kept the sword by my side.
“Magictology forever,” a warrior in plate mail said.
I relaxed slightly at the news.
“What happened to you guys?” I asked.
They walked over to the other side of the giant tree trunk.
“We got distracted,” their only elf said.
I immediately disliked the smirk on his face.
“That’s nice,” I said. “They imprisoned me for a week.”
“What are you doing out here in the woods?” Another man in robes, this time with red and orange colors, asked.
“I killed three men a week ago,” I said. “Been on the run since.”
A man in black chain mail pumped his fist in the air, saying, “Right on!”
“I’m Rizzo the Red,” the mage said. “This is Sylvar, a ranger, Monky, our spiritual advisor, Harvey the healer, and Thero.”
“What’s up?” the tank in the plate mail greeted.
“I’m…”
Still an NPC, I couldn’t even utter my real name.
“Do you want to join our party?” Rizzo asked.
I nodded. “Do you guys have food?”
“That bird looks tasty,” Sylvar said then snickered.
You have joined a party!
A new life awaits you.
“Here,” Rizzo said, handing me a ring. “Put this on.”
“What’s it do?” I asked as I slipped it on my right index finger.
“It lets us talk out of character without a penalty.”
“Do you guys know where we can find Eric and Sarah?” I asked.
I still hadn’t decided if I was going to kill them or not, but I wouldn’t mind help finding them.
“Slow down,” Monky began.
His bald head gave him an air of mystery.
“Why did you choose a half-orc barbarian?” Harvey asked.
“I’m the party’s main tank,” Thero said out of nowhere.
“Video games aren’t my thing,” I said. “But don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.”
The five men laughed.
“What?” I asked.
“You’ve got, what, like a few hours in the game?” Sylvar asked.
I stared into his eyes, knowing we wouldn’t get along.
“Don’t worry about me,” I said.
“What’s your character name?” Harvey asked.
“Yorg...”
They laughed again. It was getting on my nerves.
“Are you guys going to help me or not?” I snapped.
“You’re not an NPC any longer, are you?” Sylvar quipped.
“Besides,” Rizzo said, “it’s your fault we didn’t find you anyway. We weren’t expecting a one-year penalty because you don’t have a prisoner identification number. What’s up with that anyway?”
Everyone stared at me, waiting for an answer.
I shrugged and said, “Not sure, guys. Sorry.”
They didn’t need to know everything I knew—not until I trusted them.
“Come on,” Rizzo said. “We’re breaking you out of here and going to level one-two.”
“Is that allowed?” I asked. “Breaking more rules doesn’t sound like the best of ideas.”
“Stop thinking, barbarian,” Sylvar said. “Without a prisoner number, the game isolated you on a special zone with slowed-down time. It’s not fun, trust me, but we found you.”
“Are you taking me to Eric and Sarah?”
Sylvar sighed. “We need to level you up a bit first,” he said. “Be patient.”
I frowned but said nothing. They were my only hope of finding Sarah. My rage had already gotten me into trouble. I wanted to learn how to control it better. Brains over brawn would help keep me alive in the game.
“Don’t worry about it,” Rizzo said. “Get over here.”
I climbed over the fallen tree to join them on the other side. The mage recited some strange words then waved his hands. Everything went dark for a moment.
When I could see again, I noticed we’d transported out of the forest and onto a wooden stage. Little creatures with the heads of dogs scurried about the auditorium.
“Hurry up,” Rizzo called.
I turned to him and saw a glowing portal that looked like the one in the tower where we started the game. One by one, the others walked through the shimmering magic.
“Are you coming or not?” Rizzo asked.
I nodded as he walked through. Should I just run away from them and find Eric and Sarah on my own?
I turned around and saw dozens of dog-men.
Unsure of how to even begin to find the other two, I went through the portal. On the other side, I found myself back in the hallway of the Tower of Gates.
“Welcome,” the familiar gamemaster said.
“Hurry,” Rizzo said. “Just ignore him.”
I followed the others through the portal to level one-two of the game. We appeared, for some unknown reason, in a cramped kitchen.
“Level one-two’s still glitching hard,” Sylvar said.
Harvey picked up a turkey leg from a wooden table. “Could be worse places to drop us,” he said.
Rizzo opened a door then left the kitchen,
followed by Monky, Sylvar, and Thero. I watched Harvey chewing the turkey leg for a moment before leaving with the others.
Almost all the patrons in the dining room turned to look at me as I walked out. I held my head high as I walked through the tables toward the door where the others waited.
Outside, Rizzo led us to a three-story building being constructed. I saw Temple of Magictology carved across the entrance in big, bold letters. Several men banging hammers kept working.
“Looking good,” Sylvar said.
“Aesthetically pleasing,” Monky added.
“Does anyone want the last of this turkey leg?” Harvey asked as he walked up.
I turned and shook my head. He tossed it to the ground when no one took him up on his offer. A pack of wild dogs ran up, fighting over the scraps of meat.
“We’ll be staying here tonight,” Rizzo said. “Leveling the barbie will begin tomorrow at dawn.”
He walked toward the building then disappeared inside. While it had no windows or doors, the walls and roof had been completed. I turned to the others.
“You stink,” Thero said.
The others laughed yet again.
“You can cleanse your physical filth around back,” Monky said. “I’ll show you.”
He motioned for me to follow then walked toward the side of the building. Harvey, Sylvar, and Thero stayed behind, laughing and joking with each other.
Behind the temple, I saw a stone fountain out in the open.
“Go ahead,” he said. “Don’t be modest.”
I walked over and dipped a cupped hand into the water. After splashing it over my face, I felt a bit more civilized. I glanced over at the monk.
“After you clean up, you can find a sleeping spot inside the temple,” he said. “We’ll wake you in the morning to go get you some experience points.”
“Sounds good to me,” I said.
He turned and walked away. I finished cleaning up the best I could without soap or hot water. While I liked the game’s survival aspects in some ways, I missed hot baths.
Water dripping from my long, curly hair, I headed into the temple. Not seeing the others, I wandered up to the second floor and found a room with a few cots.