Respawn: Lives 1-5 (Respawn LitRPG series Book 1)

by Arthur Stone

  “So they’ve let you remember last year’s kindergarten graduation, huh?” Rock smiled at her.

  “Idiot. I’m a college student, you know. It’s obvious. Well, I was. I suppose you know the difference between kindergarten and college?”

  “We morons can surprise you sometimes. So what was that joke about my nameday about?”

  “Zeros don’t have an ID. Without an ID, they’re, well, tough to identify. Their skills don’t develop, their XP rewards are often reduced, and we don’t know what happens to their hidden stats. No information about them. Lots of bad stuff. And life here is bad enough without all of that. The easiest way to get an ID is to find an immune that agrees to name you. It’s best if they accept you into their party so you can share XP, too. Assuming that the party leader changes the settings so that XP is equally distributed. It won’t be completely equal, of course—the level difference is just too high—but that doesn’t really matter. You can manage without a party, but to get XP then you have to deal some damage to a target. Usually killing one walker is good enough. Even the freshest, slowest, stupidest kind. Then your partner can become your godfather. Got it?”

  “Almost. So what does becoming a godfather mean?”

  “He says your new name, and if you agree to it, it binds to you. In some cases you can’t refuse it at all, though. You’ll see some poor losers with sorry nicknames around. Now, what should we call you? This is going to be tough...”

  “Is this name forever?”

  “You can change your godfather a few days after your first naming, but only once. You can change your name after that without changing your godfather, but it’s not easy. What do you call yourself? Or are you just ‘moron’?”

  “Could we dispense with the whole moron thing?” Rock clenched his fists.

  “Of course not. You’re still a moron.”

  “I go by ‘Rock.’ That’s what the digi from the dorm named me.”

  “Digi?”

  “The first one I ever talked to. It’ll work. I’ve gotten used to it.”

  Kitty frowned, pressing her lips together. On her picturesque face, this looked hilarious. She shook her head. “So your godfather ends up being a digi. No, that’s a very bad omen. No good.”

  “I’m not superstitious.”

  “Yeah, all the morons like to say that before they see what this world is really like. You will be. All of us rely on signs and omens here. Rock... hmm, so you like that name... This is tough. It’s my first time, after all.”

  “First time?”

  “I’ve never been a godmother before.”

  “I love being the first,” winked Rock. “In everything. Second is OK, too.”

  Kitty did not appreciate the innuendo. “I had this one newcomer like you tag along with me once, but he didn’t live long enough for me to name him. A digi decided to go kamikaze on him, and you morons are easy to kill. Hey, wait, how about Rocker? I mean, it’s close to Rock.”

  “Rocker? I mean, is that like a rocking chair? A rocking horse? Lame.”

  “So it suits you. Hobbling around on that knee. And always rocking back and forth from life to death and back to life again. But you’re right, it is kind of lame.”

  “Great, so I just gave you another insult to use. I’m starting to worry that I’ll end up having to change my name down the road, with the way this is going.”

  “You’ll learn not to behave like an idiot, and I’ll call you something else. For now, though, you’re ‘moron.’ Wait, what about Rocky? I mean, it’s really close, and it’s a real nickname. Will that work?”

  Rock wasn’t particularly enthused by this nickname odyssey, so he made no objection to ending it. “Rocky works. I’m down.”

  Kitty stared at him in reproach, cocking her head the way she often did. “In case you didn’t realize, this isn’t some flippant decision. This is your name. It’s important.”

  “Like I said, Rocky is good. What do I do now? Get some holy water sprinkled on me, or sign some certificate, or some shit?”

  The answer appeared as words in the air, of course.

  Kitty has suggested you change your name to “Rocky.” To accept, say “yes.” To reject, say “no.”

  The importance that Kitty tried to give the moment hadn’t gotten through to Rock. He mumbled carelessly. “Yes. Alright, what else do I do?”

  “Nothing,” said Kitty, with an air of satisfaction. “Alright, never call yourself Rock again. That’s in the past. You splashed the water on you? It’s like a baptism. Some people have other rituals. Sticks, bloodletting, whatever. All good omens.”

  “Sounds like the sort of thing we should drink to.”

  “I don’t drink. And you’re not going to, either.”

  “Teetotaler.”

  “Been called that before. Go ahead, drink, but not much. Just a symbolic amount. I mean, maybe that’s an omen, too, but I don’t know what kind. Namedays are important, Rocky. We still don’t know how important they are yet, but we know that they are. A connection is formed between godparents and godchildren, too. How strong it is we don’t yet know, either.”

  Rock—er, Rocky—perked up. “A connection? I usually like women tall, with light-colored hair, with an ass like this—” he gestured—“but I’d be willing to give it a shot. You’re cute when you’re cleaned up and dressed decently.”

  Kitty pursed her lips and took on an unfriendly tone. “Look, let’s set the boundaries here and now. I gave you a name, I’m going to teach you a few things, help you get out of here, tell you where to go next. You’re going to listen carefully, always follow my orders, and without objections or excuses. If you start talking like that, I’ll leave you to talk to yourself. Anything with your hands and I’ll break them both, in six places. Got it?”

  “I’m at least twice as strong as you, so how will you break my hands?” Rock grinned.

  “Do you really want to find out?” Kitty said, seriously.

  He squinted, staring at her maliciously-narrowed eyes, then grunted and shook his head. “Alright, you’ve convinced me. I hate arguing with cute girls.”

  “Good choice. You just hit level one. I did that almost eight months ago. We are very different, you and I, and you’ll see that soon.”

  “Yes, I’d like to find out more about our physical differences.”

  “Ugh, all assholes are the same. You’re terrible people, you know that? First, get used to the fact that the Continent is huge, and full of mysteries which are not always easy to solve. There is a lot we still do not know. We’re always finding out new things. Those who survive, anyway.”

  “Is there any way out of here?”

  “We don’t know.”

  “Alright. So what is this world, really?”

  “We don’t know that, either.”

  “It seems like a game built for masochists, but there are some inconsistencies with that theory.”

  “Right. It’s like a virtual world, but it’s definitely not a game. It’s something else. Perhaps we’ll never know. Perhaps it’s unique, incomprehensible. The Continent is a difficult, dangerous place. Even when you learn everything I know about it, you’ll still have countless questions. There are a few key things you have to remember, though. First, this world is unstable. Its land is divided up into something like a honeycomb. Into polygons of various sizes. We call them clusters. Heard of those yet?”

  “Of course. I see it whenever I revive. Fed up with it by now.”

  “Right, and they show you the cluster number too. It’s some kind of coordinate system. A cluster can stay here for a few hours, a few months, even a few years. We don’t know the maximum. But usually it sticks around for between a few days and a couple of months. When that time expires, the cluster disappears, and a clone of it or a similar cluster comes in to replace it. That’s called a reset. Clusters can have anything in them. Forests, lakes, rivers, or towns and cities packed with digis. A new cluster is a standard respawn. Meaning that most immunes resurrect
there. When they die, the system tosses them into the closest cluster just before it comes in. Did you notice how there’s electricity and cellular in the cluster when it first resets?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Wherever the cluster is held before it loads into the honeycomb, yeah, it has power. We don’t really know anything about how or why. But that’s only a very short time. Usually equal to the number of revives you have left. Then it transfers in, cutting the wires around the cluster, and the power goes out. You’ve seen a cluster border before, right? It’s like the land is cut with a knife. Everything ends abruptly, and the terrain across the border can be completely different.”

  “Yeah, I saw a weird bridge that seemed shorn off halfway across the river, like you said.”

  “Borders often run along rivers.”

  “Wait!” Rock thought. “What if you manage to leave the cluster before it comes in?”

  “Aren’t you original. All of the newbies ask that.”

  “Well, what’s wrong with asking it?”

  “I’d like to see you try running the two miles or so to the border in the few seconds you have until reset. The revival system never puts you closer to the border than that. The Continent is hard to trick. Even those who have pumped up speed or teleportation skills find some obstacle impeding them from reaching the border in time. So just forget about it. It won’t work. Another important point is that the first newcomers arrived here about three years ago. The influx was huge back then. Now much fewer people show up, but there are still newbies. And most people agree that experienced ‘players’ should help newbies out.”

  “I noticed. Like those guys trying to set you up with a hot date with—” Rocky romantically rolled the start of the name—“Romeo.”

  “The Continent wouldn’t be the Continent without bastards like that,” said Kitty with a frown. “But they say the Continent itself helps newcomers. It’s some kind of internal law it runs by.”

  “Uh, yeah, so obvious.” Rocky smiled without his eyes, unhappily, and rolled up his pant leg to reveal his knee. “See this? Helping out newcomers! Yay!”

  “You mean those scars?”

  “No, I just wanted to show you my leg hairs, Kitty. Look, the thing is, I have these every time I revive. Some kind of soccer injury, they say. And it hurts. It creaks when I walk, and running is torture. Last time I managed to get a bike, and that helped, but it was still tough. The ability to run away seems very important here, and my score in it is negative.”

  Kitty bent over, stared at his knee, and mumbled thoughtfully. “The System should compensate you for that.”

  “Like give me money? Or just apologize for the inconvenience?” Rocky realized he didn’t want to revive the rudeness between them. “Just joking.”

  But his apologetic afterthought failed to turn the battleship.

  “Moron! No, the Continent always compensates you for defects like that. It’s another law.”

  “Believe me, ain’t nobody compensated me for nothing.”

  The girl got up, stepped to the side, turned, threw her arms up over her head, arched her back, and managed a handstand on the shaky picnic table without even making it wobble. It was a single, graceful, confident maneuver. She held motionless for a couple of seconds, then spread her legs into a perfect split. She froze for a few moments, then casually asked Rocky, “What do you think of that?”

  “You’re sure flexible,” Rocky approved.

  Curving a feline arch in her back, Kitty returned to her feet as gracefully as she had left them and explained the deeper meaning of her unusual behavior. “Everybody’s first time here is more or less the same, unless of course you happen to bump into a good player right away. Most newbies are healthy, but some are like us. Not many, but some. I was like you. Crippled.”

  “Your leg?”

  “Nope. Back. I had a bad spine. It would start off cold, then get hotter and hotter. Eventually turning, bending, taking on any load was a nightmare. I always had a gym membership card in my purse, too. A lesson in the art of mockery. But there aren’t many of us cripples. One percent, maybe. Or less. Our health problems and spore needs disappear with time, though. You have to make it a day or two. Plus something else. Life doesn’t really start until you hit level ten, though. Once you do, you will always be healthy when you revive, and you’ll get some kind of ability. Sometimes useful, sometimes not. It’s a bonus, compensation for the initial difficulties we had as cripples, and it can’t be removed. You just saw my compensation. It’s not very useful, but I’ve learned to take advantage of it. Flexibility can free you from an impossible situation. General coordination is crucial, but Agility points are expensive. Plus, sometimes the ability to pull a fancy somersault across the pavement helps out. You should have some ability like that, too.”

  “Should I try pulling a split?”

  “Do you have a gym membership ticket?” Kitty asked, dead serious.

  He shook his head. “No, but I did have a receipt from a shooting club. Could that be it?”

  “That’s it!” The girl was delighted. “Wow, what a compensation. Definitely a useful skill here on the Continent, believe me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Kitty rolled her eyes, remembering her companion’s stupidity. “Come on Rocky, how can you be such a fool? Look, I’m a gymnast, and I’m agile, flexible. You have a receipt from the shooting club. It’s obvious! How long do I have to keep chewing your food for you until you start thinking for yourself?”

  “So I’m probably able to shoot well.”

  “Praise the Continent! The moron has guessed the answer! Remember those two immunes? You took two shots. Hit both of them square in the head. You probably hit Globes in the head, too, but he managed to get his Defense up. It’s really pumped, and he’s got a great set of skills. Like I said, you should have gone for him first!”

  “Sorry!”

  Kitty changed her tone. “You know, I was surprised, though. I wouldn’t expect that kind of accuracy from my own shots, even. Good compensation. Much better than mine.”

  “So I just need to reach level ten to get rid of this limp? How can I speed that up?”

  “You mentioned that it was like a game here. There are a lot of game elements in the Continent, yeah. We seem like ordinary people, but each of us has a set of stats that are independent of our physical and mental state. They’re external, outside of us. Get it?”

  “Not really.”

  “Oh, right. Moron. So, here your Strength can pump and you will get stronger even though your muscles don’t seem to grow at all. I could pull a car out of a swamp, for example. Easily.”

  “Oh come on, you couldn’t pull a tricycle out of a puddle.”

  “A car. Out of a swamp. With one arm. There are base stats, auxiliary stats, and hidden stats. Hidden stats are complicated. Auxiliary stats are more straightforward. But to level up, you need to work on your base stats. Add five units to a base stat or a combination of base stats and you’ll get one level.”

  Hmm, tell me more. What are these stats? How many are there? How can you increase them?”

  “There are five main stats: Strength, Agility, Speed, Endurance, and Willpower. You’re a beginner, so you won’t see the last one, but you can work on the first four already.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “Oh, he knows something! Come on, you probably have a billion more questions.”

  “How’d you know?”

  “Because I used to be the same. In order to raise a stat from zero to one, you have to earn ten points of progress. Then you need twenty more for stat level two, thirty more for three, and so on. The gap increases by ten progress points each time. So at the beginning small infecteds are sufficient, but sooner or later you find yourself needing to mow down bigger beasts in order to make progress. That zone is called the “pumping deadzone,” since progress is tough. That’s from around level thirty to level forty-five. Forty-five, or maybe even forty-four, is pretty much a ma
x level. The only way to pump from there is to join a powerful squad or set up some other kind of system. Remember that when you die, some of your stat progress points are lost. If that decreases your stats, you can even lose a level. That doesn’t matter much when you’re a beginner, but when you die at level forty you lose a couple of weeks’ worth of work in a single death. And that sucks. Auxiliary stats lose points, too, but they can’t reduce your level. They’re independent. I’ll teach you to customize your stat menu. You’ll see what’s up. Nothing hard, it’s just all scrambled, mixed up. This place loves confusing you. Do you know about the infecteds?”

  “The zombies?”

  Kitty winced. “Calling them zombies is like screaming you’re a moron from the rooftops. Walkers, ghouls, deadmen, infecteds, monsters, beasts, even mutants if you want, but for heaven’s sake don’t call them zombies. You’ll already make people laugh without trying to be funny.”

  “What’s wrong with zombies? With the name, I mean?”

  “Zombies don’t breathe. Zombies decompose. Zombies can only be killed with a bullet to the head. These beasts breathe as much as three humans, eat as much as five, and don’t decompose. They grow, develop, change into terrible monsters. They are hard to kill, but they can be killed by wounds to places other than the head. There are lots of bad omens, things you just shouldn’t do here. Remember them well, or you’ll end up provoking everyone, not just Globes and his gang.”

  Kitty pulled out something that Rocky—then Rock—had seen Horsefly carrying. It was a shiny black crystal wrapped with a thin cord. She twisted it between her fingers and said, pleased, “There are only four immunes in town. We’re in luck.”

  “How did you know that? And why does that make us lucky?” Rock had other questions to ask, but he couldn’t resist these.

  The girl wrapped the crystal around her hand, holding it in her palm and the cord in her fingers. “This trinket is good for one thing: collecting information about immunes in fresh clusters. It only works for two or three hours after reset, but it is accurate.”