World dungeon? What the actual hell? What did that even mean? My mind continued to race. I immediately thought of Pathfinder and Dungeons and Dragons and other games I hadn’t played since I was on active duty. I couldn’t see a single damn person. I was surrounded by only the sound of the wind.
A horn, like a trumpet, sounded, blasting through the night air. I stopped dead, looking around. What now? It’s the dungeon appearing, I thought. This is happening. Holy shit, this is really happening.
Less than a hundred feet to my left, right in the middle of what had once been a thrift store, a spotlight burst into the air. I saw an additional spotlight appear about a mile away. I turned, and I saw a few more littered throughout the city.
Even from this distance, I could feel the warmth radiating from the brightly-lit hole in the ground.
I didn’t think about it. My head still swam with all the information that had been thrown at me. The pink Crocs barely fit on my feet. The distant fire was further away than I thought. I had seen firsthand what hypothermia did to people.
So I turned toward the light, and I ran.
Part 1
2
Dungeon Floor 1.
Time to Level Collapse: Five days.
An ornate staircase led down into the light. Each step appeared to be made of wrought iron, and the whole thing was wide enough to accommodate twenty people walking side-by-side. Glowing warmth radiated from the hole. I took a step, falling down a little further than I anticipated. My footfalls echoed into the brightness.
This was a city of almost a million people, and I was the only one here.
Donut, who had stopped fighting, clutched onto my shoulder and started growling as we descended toward the bright light. Welcome, glorious warmth beckoned me deeper. My legs and feet, which I hadn’t been able to feel, were now starting to burn. I hadn’t been out in the cold long enough to sustain any real damage, but I was frostbitten to hell.
The stairs seemed to go on forever. The iron steps were carved in an odd pattern depicting what could’ve been fish. Or maybe demons. The almost Asian-looking carvings gave me an uneasy feeling. These stairs weren’t here just a few minutes ago. This whole thing is made of the buildings and cars and people of the world. Who did this? How did they do it?
By the time I reached the bottom of the stairs, the temperature had risen to a humid, balmy 80 degrees Fahrenheit or so. The metal stairs ended at a marble floor and a hulking door that stood about thirty feet tall and was just as wide. The wooden, arched door was carved in the shape of a massive fish demon, like the stairs.
I looked up at the double doors.
“What the hell is this thing?” I muttered.
As I stared at the door, an information box popped up over the door. The box appeared so suddenly and unexpectedly that I stepped back. It was like I was in a game, or maybe wearing special contact lenses that popped up informational tooltips. It even had a little X in the corner to close it out.
This is a rendition of a Kua-Tin, the dominant species of the Borant System and principal owners of the Borant Corporation. Make sure you recognize these guys. There’ll be a test later.
Was that last part supposed to be a joke? I focused on the X in the corner and mentally closed the box.
Huh, I thought. I looked up at the carving again and I felt something, almost like a slight, haptic tingling in my brain. The information box popped up again. I closed it.
Weird. I could control the information with my mind. I could open information boxes on certain items by focusing on them. I could close the boxes by mentally clicking the X with my mind.
That means they’re in your head. Maybe this isn’t really happening. Maybe you’re asleep, and this is all some sort of high-tech simulation. Like in the Matrix movies.
The pain in my warming-up legs and feet reminded me that simulation or not, it didn’t matter. Not when I could hurt.
With my one free hand, I pushed at the door. It opened easily inward, revealing a long hallway lit by multiple torches. The hallway was just as wide and tall as the door, more like a tunnel for a double-lane roadway than for someone to walk through. In the distance I could see several branches leading off the main hall. A blinking light appeared near the first branch. It seemed to be a sign of some sort, but I couldn’t read it from here.
“Oww,” I cried as Donut chomped down on my hand. I dropped the cat, and she bounded forward into the hallway. She stopped about ten paces in, looking around with a confused, startled look on her face.
I stepped toward the cat, and the doors slammed behind me. The light from the entrance room cut off and was replaced with a dusk-like dimness.
Welcome, Crawler. Welcome to the First Floor.
This was a new voice. It was male, sounding overly enthusiastic, almost like a game show host. It wasn’t the same person or speaker from the original announcement. The words appeared floating before me and were simultaneously spoken in my mind. Unlike the tool-tip like box, I wasn’t able to close it out. This was more like subtitles.
A timer appeared in the upper right of my vision. It was at 4 days, 23 hours, and 48 minutes and counting down. I, again, swiped at the characters. They didn’t go away. I closed my eyes, and the information disappeared. It was unsettling and it gave me a slightly queasy feeling to my stomach.
Donut remained in her spot several paces in front of me, but the chunky cat was swiping at the air in front of herself. She sees it too, I thought. Holy crap. Whatever this was, it was happening to the cat just like it was to me.
“Donut,” I said, calling to the cat. “Stay with me.”
The cat, being a cat, ignored me. But as I looked at her, I felt that same almost imperceptible tingle I felt when I’d looked at the door. I focused more tightly, and an information box popped up over the cat.
Crawler #4,119. “Princess Donut.”
Level 1.
Race: Cat.
Class: Not yet assigned.
I took a step forward, painfully aware that I was wearing Crocs that didn’t fit.
More text assaulted me.
You have been designated Crawler Number 4,122. You have been assigned the Crawler Name “Carl.”
You are assigned the race of Human. You are currently level 1. You may choose a new race and class as soon as you descend to the third floor. Your stat points have been assigned based on your current physical and mental profile. See the stat menu for more details.
Menu? I wondered how to pull a menu up. But before I could even try to figure it out, I was bowled over by a wall of text.
Congratulations! You’ve earned your first achievement: Crazy Cat Lady.
You have entered the World Dungeon accompanied by a cat. Ahh, isn’t that sweet?
Reward: You’ve received a Bronze Pet Box!
New achievement! Trailblazing Crazy Cat Lady.
You are the first crawler to have entered to the World Dungeon accompanied by a cat. You must really love that thing. Too bad you’re both probably going to die a horrible death at any moment. Or maybe not. Look at the prize you just received!
Reward: You’ve received a Legendary Pet Box!
New achievement! Early Adopter.
You are one of the first 5,000 Crawlers to enter a new World Dungeon. Sucker.
Reward: You’ve received a Silver Adventurer Box!
New achievement! Empty pockets.
You didn’t bring any supplies. None. You know you still gotta eat, right?
Reward: You’ve received a Bronze Adventurer Box!
New achievement! Why aren’t you wearing pants?
You entered the dungeon wearing no pants. Dude. Seriously?
Reward: You’ve received a Gold Apparel Box!
New achievement! Unarmed combat.
So. You just gonna waltz right into something called a “World Dungeon” and you’re not even going to bring a weapon? You’re either braver than you look, or you’re just an idiot. Good luck with that, Van Damme.
Reward: You’ve received a Bronze Weapon Box!
New achievement! Loner.
You entered the dungeon without any human companions. Didn’t anyone teach you there is safety in numbers?
Reward: None! Haha. You are so dead.
I stared at those last words as they faded away.
You are so dead.
Donut was, again, swiping at the air.
“Menu,” I said out loud. Nothing happened.
“Stats.” Nothing.
How the hell was I supposed to look at my information? It said I’d “received” multiple… what? Loot boxes? That’s sure as hell what it sounded like. Which meant I had some sort of inventory. I remembered something from the initial announcement, something about finding a tutorial guild. I looked up at the neon sign about a hundred meters down the dark tunnel. Would that be it?
I started to shuffle jog down the tunnel toward the blazing sign. I passed Donut, who sat upon the ground, licking her paw and rubbing it against her forehead. After a moment, the cat seemed to sigh and decide to follow.
The neon sign read “Da Tutorial Guild” with an arrow pointing down a thin, dark alleyway. I shuffled to a stop. The swish of my footfalls echoed in the large, empty tunnel. I peered into the darkness. It was pitch black in there.
Behind me, Donut meowed with concern.
I stepped into the alley.
New achievement! Fall into an obvious trap.
Reward: Well, if there’s a heaven, and if you haven’t been too much of an asshole, maybe they’ll let you in. Because you about to meet your maker.
Three lights flipped on, blinding me. I covered my eyes and took a step back. Something mechanical hissed, and what sounded like a steam engine roared to life. I heard laughter, high-pitched and squealing.
I turned, and I ran. Both of my pink Crocs went flying as I turned down the main tunnel, heading away from where I’d come down the stairs. Donut yowled and rushed after me.
I hazarded a look over my shoulder and saw the contraption rocket out of the alleyway, almost crash into the far wall, and then slowly start to back up and turn, facing me.
The machine was the size of a tractor and ran on treads, like a tank. The thing was built out of mismatched, rusting hunks of metal, and it looked as if it would fall apart at any moment. A spinning, spike-covered wheel dominated the front of the death machine. On top of the tractor three green-hued humanoid monsters stood, screaming and pointing in my direction. Each of these monsters looked to be about four feet tall and were dressed in leathery rags. One appeared to be wearing a kitchen pot on his head. He grunted and screamed as he worked the controls for the tall machine. Black smoke billowed from several pipes. The spinning wheel whirred even faster as the machine righted itself and started barreling toward me.
A tooltip popped up.
Goblin Murder Dozer. Contraption.
A goblin-built, steam-powered machine designed to mow down and slaughter unsuspecting dungeon crawlers. I hope you’re up to date with your tetanus shots.
Three more tooltips popped up over the three riders. Two of them read:
Goblin. Level 2.
Small, green, and smart. What goblins lack in physical strength, they make up for in pure spunk.
The third goblin, the one with the pot on his head and driving the machine had a different description:
Goblin Engineer. Level 3.
Engineers. The incels of the goblin world. They have a hard time finding a date, which makes them extra angry. If there are any females in your party, they will attack them first.
I didn’t have time to think about the stupidity of the jokes or the fact I was, for the first time, looking upon a group of real, live monsters trying to kill me. I rushed down the hallway and reached another junction. I could go three ways: forward, right, or left. Right was another half-lit hallway about half as wide as the last, but still plenty big enough for the goblins to follow. Left led into a tight, dark hall that’d be way too thin for the bulldozer.
The obvious choice would be to flee down the dark hallway. I paused. It was too obvious of a choice. I sensed another trap. I couldn’t go straight because the next junction was too far away, and the machine would catch me for sure.
I turned right. Donut followed, choosing to stay by my side, which was very un-Donut like behavior.
This hall was only as wide a regular road with a smooth, fifteen-foot ceiling. Green, lichen-like growths glowed on the brick walls and ceilings, giving the tunnel an odd glow. Behind me, the goblins squealed as they struggled to maneuver the Murder Dozer. The thing had a wide turning radius, and it would take them at least a minute to pursue.
Ahead, another group of junctions appeared. But just before the intersection, I spied a single, plain wooden door built into the wall. A simple sign was attached to the wall above the door. The words were painted the same color as the dark-red bricks of the wall, and I could barely read it. It read “Tutorial Guild.” The words were in that same, odd language.
The moment I read the sign, a glowing green box appeared, highlighting the name.
New achievement! You’ve discovered and read an official dungeon sign.
Wow. You can read. Whoopie.
Reward: All official dungeon signage will now be highlighted and easier to spot. Nearby guilds will appear on your minimap.
A minimap? I really needed to figure this out. Behind me, the murder dozer had gotten stuck on the corner, and one of the level-two goblins was shouting and beating on the pot helmet of the engineer with what looked like a stick. The third looked at me and shook a fist.
Would they follow me into the guild? I didn’t know. I grasped the brass door handle and tried to turn it.
It didn’t open. Locked.
“What the hell?” I said. I banged on the wooden door.
“Hey,” I called. “Is there anybody in there?”
The two, level-two goblins seemed to give up on waiting for the bulldozer to negotiate the tight turn, and they hopped off and started jogging toward me. They were unarmored, but both wielded what appeared to be wooden sticks with a pineapple on the end of it. They’d catch up in a minute. Next to me, Donut started to growl and hiss.
From behind the door I heard the rattling of chains and turning of locks. The door cracked, only pulling open part way. A single chain remained, keeping the door from opening further.
A bearded, rat-like creature appeared in the doorway. I could barely make out his features, but he was about a head shorter than me. So taller than the goblins, but not by much.
“Whaddya want?” the voice said. “You mobs ain’t allowed in here. You know that!”
“Hey, this is a tutorial guild, right? The thing said I was supposed to go in here.”
The eye widened as it looked at me.
“You’re… you’re a crawler? Wait.” The rat creature stepped back as if to get a better look at me. I was immediately reminded of Master Splinter the rat sensei from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. “You are! By his left tit, we opened up and I didn’t even notice! I must have slept through the announcement. Nobody tells old Mordecai anything! There used to be a newsletter. It was delivered every few cycles, reliable as can be. But then it just stopped. Budget cuts, I’m guessing. They’re always cutting corners. I thought we weren’t opening for another two years!”
“Hey, let me in!” I interrupted. I turned to face the two goblins who jogged to a stop. One moved to my left, the other moved to cut off my retreat.
“Open the damn door!” I cried.
One of the goblins said something to the rat man behind the door, whose name appeared to be Mordecai. I couldn’t understand the goblin language. It was grunts and squeaks. Mordecai responded in the goblin language. They both laughed.
“Sorry, crawler. You took too long,” Mordecai said through the chained door. “I can’t open up if there are mobs directly outside. Rules are rules.”
“I took too long?” I said. I moved to a fighting stance. One of the gob
lins feinted, swinging at me with his club. The pineapple at the end of the club fell off when he swung it, and it hit the ground with a splat. The goblin cursed and kicked it away. I took a step back. Donut stood between my legs, hissing and spitting.
“At least tell me how to open these damn loot boxes!”
Mordecai was silent for a moment, as if he was contemplating on whether or not to tell me.
“It’s in the Awards and Boxes tab of your inventory menu,” the rat man said. “But you can’t access it yet, kid.”
“How do I get access to the inventory menu, then?”
The second goblin—the one who still had a pineapple on the end of his stick—swung at me, missing by a wide margin. Up close, the goblins looked much like they did in movies and videogames. Short, green, mostly bald with pointed ears, angular faces, and sharp teeth. I briefly wondered on that. It seemed the aliens, or whatever, knew a whole lot about earth mythology and lore.
Far behind him, the murder dozer had finally backed up properly and had straightened out. It rumbled down the hallway toward us.
“Yeah, you gotta complete the tutorial.”
The pineapple goblin swung at me again. I waited until the club passed the apex of its arc and stepped in. I hit the goblin square in the nose with a jab and then a left hook to its right temple. It crumpled to the ground in a heap. A bar appeared over the creature’s head the moment I hit it. A health bar, I realized. It hadn’t appeared until it took damage. The bar went down more than halfway, turning from green to red. The goblin had more than half of its life drained.
I’d clocked it pretty good, but not that good. It was like I’d just punched a ten-year-old.
The second goblin looked at his friend, open-mouthed, then turned and ran back toward the dozer.
My fists ached. I hadn’t been in an actual, physical fight in years. Most of my time as a coast guardsman was aboard a cutter as an MK—a technician. I was never involved face-to-face with any sort of real law enforcement. That said, most people I encountered who’d never been in the service didn’t realize that we trained as much as we did. People thought of us as glorified lifeguards. They had no idea how much we trained in hand-to-hand combat.
Dungeon Crawler Carl Page 2