CHAPTER 2
“They weren’t kidding about those graphics.”
“Well, the brain is nothing more than a computer. An incredibly powerful computer.”
“Just a little more squishy.”
“Ok, that’s just sad. He couldn’t be more creative than that? He looks like every prepubescent boy’s dream of what a man should be.”
“Do you need to go back into the fridge and see what he was working with for the first 35 years of his life? Dude is gonna be stuck with this for eternity, let him be. Tell me if you had the chance you wouldn’t want to be Brad Pi--”
“Whoa! His vitals just spiked. Hard. He’s under attack from something.”
“Bullshit, the campsite is a null zone. Nothing can get in there.”
“Well then, something bad happened. His pain receptors are off the charts. Heart rate is skyrocketing, adrenal glands are dumping everything they have.”
“What the hell did he do? He just created his avatar, clicked continue, then confir...oh holy nutsack.”
“What? What is it?”
“Um, I think they forgot something.”
“What are you talking about?”
“His body is morphing from the framework into his new avatar.”
“Yes, and?”
“He. Is. Feeling. It.”
“Oh my God.”
***AVATAR CREATION COMPLETE***
The first thing I hear is the birds and the breeze again. The last thing I remember is feeling like I was being run through a woodchipper on slow speed. I don’t move, afraid that doing so might trigger that rush of agony again, but there is no sense of pain now. None. Not even any soreness or lingering discomfort. The next thing I experience is the tickle of grass on my face. My nose is crushed to the side and my mouth is partly open, so I must have fallen over face-first after I--
I have a nose!
My entire body twitches as I pop up onto one hip in a sitting position. I have no idea how long I’ve been passed out, but the ground under my face is slightly wet from a thick stream of drool trailing from my lips. I look down only to see a set of hands and legs that I don’t recognize. My stomach lurches, and despite the fact that, logically, I realize what has happened, my brain struggles to comprehend the completely incomprehensible.
I am not me anymore. The hands I’m looking at are large and strong. Muscles cord underneath tan skin, forearms rippling as the fingers flex experimentally. The hands lift to my face, shaking slightly as they flutter across unfamiliar territory. The nose is firm, not soft and pudgy. The cheekbones are strong, not padded. The chin and jaw are broad. Hell, I didn’t even have much of a chin, so anything would have been an improvement, but this?
This is the new me, I marvel. I have been completely remade from the genes out. As phenomenal as that sounds, it is definitely not something I ever want to go through again. I carefully adjust my position, still fearing a return of the pain, and stand up.
And up.
Aaaand up.
I feel like I’m standing on a stool, but I look down and all I see is a simple loin cloth from which sprout thick, tanned thighs, muscular calves, and brown feet in sandals. They look like they’re a mile away. It’s amazing how much your perspective on the world changes with just a few inches in height. I, however, have grown close to a foot. An incredulous laugh bursts from my lips, and even that is lower, deeper.
I look up into the azure blue sky, framed by the fluttering leaves of the glade I stand in, and lift my arms out to the sides in a crucifix pose. I clench my fists as a primal scream rips from me, celebrating my rebirth. A dozen or so birds abandon their perches with a flutter, squawking in protest. I look around as I spin in a circle, and it’s at this time I make an odd discovery.
I may be a foot taller and look like a Greek god, but apparently I’m still a clumsy oaf. My sandal catches on the edge of the bedroll (damn thing tripped me again) and I go down hard. Thankfully I land on it, padding my fall enough to where it doesn’t really hurt. I lay there on my back, laughing as I look up once more. I can’t believe I fell, spinning around like Julie-friggin-Andrews on a hilltop. A thought strikes me as I lay there. I’m in a game. If that tripped me so easily, I wonder what my agility is?
No sooner does that cross my mind than yet another blue window pops up in front of me, blocking my view of the sky.
NAME:
POINTS TO DISTRIBUTE
X
TITLE: MASTER
RACE: HUMAN
CLASS:
CHARACTER STATS:
Might 5
Agility 5
Constitution 5
Perception 5
Intelligence 5
Charisma 5
Luck 5
Stamina (M+A+C+50) 65/65
Mana (P+I+C+50) 65/65
Hitpoints (M+A+C+L+P+50) 75/75
STATS (4 PER LEVEL):
SKILLS (2 PER LEVEL):
ABILITY (1 PER LEVEL):
PERKS:
EXPERIENCE:
PROG. TO NEXT LEVEL
0
0
0
0
0
0
SKILLS
NONE
SPELLS
NONE
ABILITIES
NONE
PERKS
MASTER N/A
N/A
This time I am ready for the screen, but I’m a bit shocked at how low my stats are. More than a bit, actually. In most games your character starts with at least 10 attribute points as the “base”, but these...these are pretty pathetic. “Let’s see…no name, no class, shit for stats, no skills, no spells, no abilities, no points to distribute. I guess I need to find a nest of BUTTERFLIES to wipe out!” I shout out to no one in particular. But hey, at least I know I’m human, I think, considering I didn’t get a chance to choose it. I do, however, see something I definitely like. While looking at my Stamina, Mana, and Hitpoints, I see a random “+50” in the parenthesis. As soon as I wonder about it, a smaller, floating window appears. It overlaps the Stamina line and reads:
+50 to Stamina from MASTER
I glance at the other two stats and find the same prompt.
“I’m the Master, huh?” I nod, a self-satisfied look on my face. “About time somebody acknowledges what a badass I am!” I flick the back of my fingers across my left shoulder, pretending to brush some dust aside. “It’s good to be the King.”
I flick the “x” in the upper right corner, and the blue window vanishes.
The clearing comes back into full focus, and the bright sunlight reflects off something in the corner of my eye. I look around and my brow furrows a bit. Stashed throughout the camp in various places are several items that I either hadn’t noticed before, or perhaps they weren’t there before I created my avatar. Propped against a supply box is a simple wooden shield with a iron hub in the middle, and leaning against the tree by my tent is a wooden staff. Worn leather straps cover the middle third, woven into a basic pattern over the twists of the natural wooden shaft. Just outside the entrance to the tent is a small table, holding a simple dagger and a thick, well-worn book. Damn thing is probably a thousand pages, I think to myself.
Nearly everywhere I look there is an item or weapon leaning against something, displayed perfectly enough, as if designed to catch my eye. After doing a quick inventory of all the weapons in the encampment, I think I know what is going on. I walk over to the shield and reach down to grab it. The leather grips are slightly warm to the touch, and the entire thing is much heavier than I expected. I hold it up at arm’s length and examine it.
YOU HAVE CHOSEN THE SHIELD!
With a shield in your hand, you and your allies are safe and sound! The SHIELD has given you the choice of the following classes:
PALADIN CLERIC
Would you like to forge your destiny as either one of these classes?
CANCEL
My nose wrinkles in disgust at the two choices. Let’s see, a Healbot or a Goody Two-Shoes. Thanks, but no thanks. I have no desire to be anyone’s knight in shining armor, and clerics are just the dweebs in the background. No, this my game, I’m The Man, and The Man doesn’t wave his club around and throw Cure Light Wounds on the people having all the fun. Paladins usually have some solid abilities, thanks to their holy powers, but I’ve never been a fan of the support classes. Paladins aren’t a real combat class like the fighters; they can’t tank as well as a fighter, and they can’t heal as well as clerics. They can’t do either thing as well as the core class, plus I don’t fancy praying to some spirit or god to grant me power. My power comes from my own badassery.
The same restriction applies even more so to clerics, holy warriors for some deity or another. Clerics are much better healers than pallys, but they can’t fight nearly as well. I’ve seen some people fare pretty well with them in various games, but that’s usually because they’re hiding in the back playing healbot. I’ve seen some builds able to be a secondary tank in emergencies, but since I don’t plan on interacting with anyone in here if I can avoid it, there’s no need for either of these. I came here to get away from all the assholes out in the world, people that think they’re better than me, not fix them up when they get stabbed. Again, this is my game, and from my title of “Master”, I am pretty much the baddest man in town. Maybe I can hire an NPC, or computer-controlled Non-Player Character, to come along and be my healbot.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
I drop the shield and look around once more. I wouldn’t mind trying my hand at slinging around a spell or two, so I approach the staff. I reach down and grab it, surprised by its heft and solid feel.
YOU HAVE CHOSEN THE STAFF!
In the right hands, the STAFF can be both an object of focus as well as a stout weapon! The STAFF has given you the choice of the following classes:
PSIONICIST MONK
Would you like to forge your destiny as either one of these classes?
CANCEL
Not at all what I was expecting, but it’s still better than the boy scout or the healbot. The monk, however, has no real interest for me either. I’ve played one in several popular games, and while it’s cool to run around punching the bejeezus out of people with my fists, I have no patience for sitting around meditating. I don’t even know if I’ll have to meditate, but the monk concept just doesn’t vibe with me. Plus, while their fists evolve over the life of the character, they don’t get to carry the cool weapons of a fighter, and they don’t wear any armor. Running around in a robe talking peace and doing kung fu? Hard pass.
The psionicist, now, is rather intriguing. I’ve never played one in a game, electronic or pen and paper. There was an old expansion pack for a popular game a while back that introduced the class to the game, and it seemed interesting. Not quite a mage, not quite a monk, they focus on powers of the mind to affect the world around them. Mostly things like mental blasts, telekinetics, even adding to their own stats by mental “focus” or something. I am sorely tempted to select yes, but then my eye catches the spellbook by the tent. I toss the staff down on the ground and walk over to the small table just outside the tent.
YOU HAVE CHOSEN THE SPELLBOOK!
Raw, elemental energies at your command! Fire, lightning, and many other domains of magic are yours to bend to your will! The SPELLBOOK has given you the choice of the following classes:
MAGE
Would you like to forge your destiny as this class?
YES NO
CANCEL
The smile that splits my face could swallow a horse. Images of me hurling fireballs around a battlefield with one hand, lightning from the other, viciously hip-thrusting at the air as power and death and destruction arc all around me is enough to make this selection easy. I reach out to the screen in front of me and tap the YES icon. I close my eyes and await the surge of arcane knowledge, anticipating the secrets of the elemental universe as they envelope me in a swirling maelstrom. Instead I’m greeted with another screen.
YOU HAVE CHOSEN TO BE A MAGE!
As a practitioner of the arcane, you must choose a domain to specialize in! You may learn spells from other domains, but no choice is without a sacrifice! Each domain has an opposing one, and any spells chosen from one prohibit learning spells from its opposition!
Water Fire
Air Earth
Life Death
Nature Eldritch
Which domain do you wish to specialize in?
CANCEL
“Now we’re talking!” I crow, looking at the two columns in the blue box. It doesn’t explicitly say, but each domain is across from another, and they appear to be polar opposites. Fire, after all, sounds like it’s in opposition to Water, as does Life and Death, respectively. Not only that, but their colors are even polar opposites from each other on the color wheel, I think to myself. Thanks, Mrs. King, I offer to my deceased art teacher from middle school. Well, except for Air and Earth, I amend. Although, when you combine a bunch of crayons you usually get some shade of brown, and combining all colors of light are white, I consider. There has to be some kind of weird symmetry with that, I guess?
Decisions, decisions. Apparently I won’t be limited to just my domain; eventually I should be able to gain spells from almost any of the others. That being said, I decide to look at the domains I don’t care about missing out on. All of the basic elemental spells would be useful, the aforementioned fire and lightning from Fire and Air respectively, and Water and Earth usually have some kick-ass summons spells, so that removes those from the cutting floor.
That leaves Nature, Eldritch, Life, and Death.
Considering my surroundings, Nature would be a good one to have. I’m sure there are probably some benefits to having a knowledge of that domain if I’m ever eventually interested in crafting my own potions. Nature, like Water and Earth, usually have some good summons as well. So if I were to desire Nature, that would mean I can’t select Eldritch. If I’m being honest with myself, I really have no idea what Eldritch is anyway, other than the fact that it is the opposite of Nature. It might mean generic magic, raw mana spells and the like. Since I’m not absolutely certain of its potential, and really, who wants to be a Nature mage anyway, I remove those two from consideration.
Now for Life and Death. If I have access to nature, I don’t see how I am going to need life, and I really don’t want to hassle with healing spells and the like, so that leaves Death as the winner.
And I’m kinda ok with that, truth be told.
The mental image of me flinging destructive magic all over the field shifts to vile, violet vapors pouring from my fingers, debilitating curses spewing from my lips as an army of skeletons claw their way up from the ground to rend my opponents to shreds. While I viciously hip-thrust at the air.
I guess the system interprets my demented glee as assent, because the icon for Death lights up. I cackle loudly, raising my arms to the side and awaiting the influx of--
YOU HAVE CHOSEN TO BE A NECROMANCER!
The secrets of the afterlife are yours to discover! You have received the following bonuses:
+10 to Intelligence
New Skills: Spellcraft, Death Magic
1 Starting Spell
As a first-level Necromancer, you have a choice of beginning spells. Which spell do you wish to learn?
Raise Skeleton Rotting Touch
CANCEL
“Oh, come on!” I growl in frustration as I am forced to read yet another prompt. I hurriedly glance at my choice, and it seems obvious to me. The experienced metagamer inside my head thinks, My hitpoints don’t exactly suck, but I still don’t want to get anywhere close to the enemy; my skeleton will absorb the damage while I pelt them from a distance with spells. The twisted, darker side of me actually wants to watch as my pets mindlessly do my bidding, tearing my enemies apart. What’s the fun in having the power over life and death if you can’t revel in it? If am going to be a death mage, I think, I’m gonna bring death with me. Literally. I flick the Raise Skeleton icon.
My growl of frustration turns into an incredulous shout as yet another damn box appears in front of me. I dismiss the screen after seeing it is just a description of the spell. “It’s called ‘Raise Skeleton’, what else do I need to know about a spell that raises a skeleton to come fight for me?” I mutter angrily.
In my current state of mind, angry and fed up, I am completely unprepared for what happens next.
My skin turns cold, chills running up and down my body. My eyes roll back in my sockets and I fall to my knees as something...opens in my mind. I feel a horrid presence reaching through that portal; the smell of rot and decay assails my nostrils, and I nearly vomit. A sensation like maggots crawling under my skin courses through my body. A cacophony of sinister growls, shrieks, and child-like whisperings, somehow all at once, begins murmuring vile words and gestures into my memory, and suddenly I am fully aware of how to bring back that which was gone. Not only that, but how to bind it to me so that it recognizes me as its master. The portal closes, but not before it whispers again. There are no understandable words, but seductive, vague impressions of power, immortality, and unlimited potential ooze into the cracks in my mind. The images linger momentarily, then the presence retreats through the open door in my mind and it’s hold on me releases.
I suck in a great lungful of clean air, and when I exhale, I’m almost certain I see a glimpse of purple vapor puff out and evaporate.
I kneel there for a moment on my hands and knees, reeling from not only the influx of knowledge I have gained, but from something even deeper, more profound. I consider what has just happened, and I begin to wonder if I just made contact with another plane of existence. Or did something just make contact with me? The idea of being invaded so effortlessly by another being willing to share arcane knowledge with me not only boggles my mind, but fills me with a nameless dread. As soon as that dread appears, it is gone, almost like the purple mist I swear I saw on the wind a moment ago. It’s just a game, dude, I tell myself with an uncertain grin. There is no ‘other plane’. On a whim, I concentrate a moment on something, and another blue box appears in front of my vision.
NAME:
POINTS TO DISTRIBUTE
X
TITLE: MASTER
RACE: HUMAN
CLASS: NECROMANCER
CHARACTER STATS:
Might 5
Agility 5
Constitution 5
Perception 5
Intelligence 15
Charisma 5
Luck 5
Stamina (M+A+C+50) 55/55
Mana (P+I+C+50) 75/75
Hitpoints (M+A+C+L+P+50) 75/75
STATS (4 PER LEVEL):
ABILITY (1 PER LEVEL):
EXPERIENCE:
PROG. TO NEXT LEVEL
0
0
0
0
SKILLS
Spellcraft
Death Magic
1 0%
1 0%
SPELLS
Raise Skeleton
1
ABILITIES
NONE
PERKS
Master N/A
N/A
Ok, so I can pull up my character screen with a thought, I realize. The first thing I see, confirming the class notification screen, is that my intelligence has gone up 10 points, just by selecting the mage class! Because of the increase in Intelligence, there is a corresponding increase in my mana pool. All right, I can deal with that. A chuckle escapes my lips as I consider my previous thoughts of mental invasion from another plane of existence. I wonder if my previous mind would have been able to handle that, much less be able to logically think about its origin. Do stats really mean that much in the game?
I mean, if I raise my might stat, wouldn’t I be able to pick up heavier stuff? If I raise my agility, I should be able to dodge things easier or perhaps even shoot a bow better. Why wouldn’t I be able to think clearer or deeper on a subject if my intelligence increases? Am I going to be able to suddenly comprehend physics or the theory of relativity as I get smarter, or am I just going to be able to understand the things I already now on a deeper level?
Heady stuff. Yeah, I’m smarter.
I stand up and feel the soft rustle of cloth against my bare legs. I realize that I’m not in a loincloth any more. I am wearing robes of a midnight black, rough and coarse as they may be. They go all the way down to my feet, on which I feel a set of rough boots. I am wearing a simple rope belt with a small leather pouch on it, and a satchel that is made of the same material slung over my shoulder and resting on my left hip. I reach down to look in my pouch, and as soon as my hand goes inside, I get another of the damn screens. This one, at least is slightly different, and easily recognizable. It’s a small, double row of 4 boxes. Hmmm, I think to myself, so I have 8 inventory spots. It’s not much, but I can work with it. In most games, an inventory system like this allows for the player to place items in those 8 boxes. Some items can be stacked, like arrows or multiples of the same herb and such. I look forward to seeing just how much I can push the system; can I fit a full suit of heavy plate mail in this tiny little pouch? It seems like experimentation is the name of the game, today.
With my newfound intelligence, my ability to raise the dead, and a desire to go kill something, I’m ready to leave.
I look around and realize that I have no idea where to go.
I look around the clearing for a hint of some kind; a path exiting, a small part in the trees, even a signpost saying, Smalltown, Pentamria to the East. Once again something catches my eye at the edge of my vision. I turn to look at it, but it stays there, just in the corner of my eye. In fact, I’m seeing a few things now, at the top, bottom, and sides of my field of vision. As I go to look at something to the upper right, it moves as well, keeping pace with the motion of my head. I growl in frustration and freeze. Keeping my head very still, I use my eyes to look in the upper right edge of my vision, and I see a small round map of my surrounding area. There is a tiny red arrow in the center, and the edges of the map don’t go much past the boundary of the clearing I’m currently in, no more than a dozen yards or so away. I close my eyes to block out my surroundings and focus a little more on the map. Along the edge of the circle, I see a small plus and minus sign. I look specifically at the plus sign, and the small image zooms in on the red arrow, and it fills more than a quarter of the map. I see the fire pit, the bedroll, and part of the tent, all of which are within a yard or two of me in reality.
I shake my head in disbelief. Reality? Hell, I don’t know what reality even is anymore. Am I in a game in my mind, or have I really been transported into an alternate dimension, where I look like an action movie star in his bathrobe? Or am I nothing more than a brain floating in a nutrient-rich solution, experiencing hallucinations brought on by electrical impulses, surgical steel electrodes pulsing in time with a certain set of algorithms intended to--
“SHUT UP!” I scream at myself. I can hear my voice reflected back at me within the small clearing, and I take a moment to gather myself. My old self reclaims control (control over whom?), and I realize there’s one thing that will help me get my mind off this internal conflict.
I begin walking towards the edge of the clearing and think, let’s go kill some shit.
I get to the edge of the clearing, and another notification screen pops up in front of me. I groan yet again and gesture to dismiss the screen. The screen bobs as my hand swipes through it, but after the brief distortion it pops right back up. I swing wilder at it, and yet it just keeps blinking back into the center of my vision.
You are ready to forge your destiny in the Realm of Pentamria! Ages from now when bards sing your praises, what name will echo through the Hall of Champions?
NAME: ______________________
CONFIRM CANCEL
I blink for a moment as I stare at the screen. I think for a moment, wondering what I should do. I am no longer Jacob Todd. I don’t want to be him any more. Why would I want to? I’ve got this new body, in a world where no one knows me as the “Duct Tape Dork”, I look like a damned Michelangelo sculpture on steroids, and I am a mother fucking wizard! I remember wisps of violet smoke, a seductive promise of everlasting life, and an image of a clawed, bony hand pushing up through the earth at my command. A smile crosses my face, a smile that any sane person would quail from in fear.
I open my mouth and shout to the sky, “I am Bonefist, Master of Death!”