Who I am in real life doesn't matter; who I am in the game is what counts.  Before it happened, I bumbled my way through the virtual reality massively multiplayer online role-playing game "The Greenwood," made crap builds and wasted my time. Then I got murdered.  A shadowy figure took my hard-accumulated possessions and left me to die.   I admit, I did a rage quit and deleted my character. Then I wondered what kind of person that rage quit made me?  Maybe I was a quitter? And maybe I really was someone who would let a bully get away with disrespecting me? But then again, no:  I respected myself too much for that. I rolled a new character, I vowed to get good and re-entered The Greenwood. I took on the name Barcud and the profession of ranger. I vowed to rise through the levels, hone my skills, hunt down the shadowy figure, and grind his face in the dirt. This is my story. ***After lots of helpful comments on RR, I am going to publish my story on Amazon Kindle, so that means I have to take it down from here apart from, I think 10%. ***Sorry to deprive you of the story. I am going to write my next one on here too though. ***If you'd like to join my LitRPG mailing list - it's here Galen Wolf LitRPG Mailing List