Most days start like ordinary ones, and today was no different. Vern rubbed at weary eyes and dressed as best as his lethargic, disinterested self could bear on a Monday morning. His simple kitchenette marked by eighties design was far from pretty, and rather gross as cluttered as it was, but none of that registered as he poured a cup of revitalizing coffee.
He probably shouldn’t have stayed up as late as he had, and definitely shouldn’t have taken those extra drinks with Bec and Darren, but there wasn’t anything to be done about it now - besides soldiering on.
Stains marked his 'Super Mart Electrical' uniform, but they were unlikely to be noticed by the dinosaurs that visited the overpriced and poorly managed electrical store. And it wasn’t as if Vern had a clean alternative.
Noting that his beard needed a trim, actually no, wait, his hair too - they both needed a trim, Vern groaned. However, as he eyed the mirror, he kind of thought his dark scruffy mop of hair and patchy beard somehow suited his disheveled and oversized uniform – an issue Vern was well accustomed to, his thin fame and tall stature often causing issues when it came to well-fitting clothing. The thought of waxing his hand and running it through his hair briefly fluttered through Vern's thoughts before shrugging and continuing towards the door.
It was at that moment reality seemed to bend. The dirty, grey carpet Vern was about to place his foot down upon changed – and instead lush, green grass met his worn-out work boot. Vern blinked, strained, and squinted. The dirty grey carpet he had grown familiar with had returned.
“What the heck.”
Vern steadied himself, as if weary of stepping on a landmine and took another step forward. In a blink, It changed again, but this time crimson red tiles lined the floor, then dirty, metallic gunmetal steel, followed by timber planks, water, dirt, sand, and gravel.
What the fuck is happening, Vern screamed internally.
Looking up, Vern realized that the walls and ceiling were also going through more changes than a confused and rebellious adolescent. Eyes widening, Vern took a step backward as his entire reality entered a state of metamorphous, and soon colors and textures were flickering through his vision like a manic photographer’s lens capturing his confusion with a thousand flashes. Falling, Vern tripped on his own backward step, crashing down upon his posterior; not even registering the pain as his eyes fixated on the otherworldly phenomena taking place throughout his apartment.
Until it stopped. Vern blinked, again, and then again. He wasn’t in his apartment any longer, or was he? Gone was the dilapidated grey interior, replaced by cold, hard steel. It was slick, lined by barely visible rivets. Halos ran along in a line, faintly glowing cool fluorescent light from the middle of the ceiling, disappearing down the seemingly endless halls in both directions.
Pain gripped him at that moment, a throbbing emanating from his rear. “Damn it.” Vern cursed as he gave himself a quick rub and gingerly returned to his feet.
“Okay, I’m insane,” Vern muttered as he took a cautious step forward. If he was still in his apartment, it sure as hell looked a lot different now. Reaching out to touch the cold metal proved the same. “Metal,” Vern remarked as if the obvious needed to be said.
Sheepishly, Vern turned, blinked, and turned back around. Yeah, it was still the same, Vern conceded.
A terrible feeling began to fester in the pit of his stomach, “I’m going to be sick.” Vern groaned, bending over and dry heaving. His stomach turned, but nothing was expelled, and a short moment later the feeling receded well enough for him to regain his posture.
Looking both ways again, Vern confirmed, to his dread that he remained in the empty corridor. Guess I’m going this way, Vern mused as he picked a direction.
The little halos provided just enough light for Vern to safely make his way, but not much else beyond that – the hazy glow fading after only a few feet. However, that was soon joined by another light, a warmer, stronger one that emanated in the distance – like the light at the end of a tunnel.
Brightening as he walked towards it, Vern found the source of the warm light as he entered a room. A myriad of lights blinked or glowed across an impossibly complex control panel, with a bucket seat suspended at its center. Even more amazingly, he was staring out into space. Huge windows encapsulated almost everything not covered in controls, lights, or buttons. To his left, a huge star boiled lava red, and Vern realized whatever he was looking through, it wasn’t simple glass, otherwise, he would likely be blind by now. To his right, a ringed, violet planet that looked almost as intimating as the fiery sun itself hung at a distance incomprehensible to Vern - but obviously far closer than the gigantic fireball to his left.
“It’s a spaceship. I’m inside a freaking spaceship.” Vern muttered as he looked on in disbelief.
“P-P-pardon for the d-d-delay,” a stuttering robotic voice sounded through Vern’s thoughts. “B-Back-up engaged. C-C-Catastrophic f-failure detected. S-s-system r-reconfiguration c-commenced.”
“What the hell, get out of my head!” Vern manically screamed against the invasive voice, fearing he was actually going crazy now.
“A-aacknowledged, s-system n-notifications disengaged. S-s-silent install I-I-initiated.”
“Silent install? What the hell are you talking about?” Vern shouted back but got no response this time.
Silence encapsulated the cockpit as Vern went quiet, waiting to see if the strange, artificial voice would return. A minute or two passed but only space stared back at Vern.
With little else to do, Vern began surveying the countless controls, buttons, and levers scattered about the room – not that he had any plan for them. Shortly after, he came across a screen, displaying a three-dimensional image of a ship, an unbelievably huge spaceship to be precise.
“Am I supposed to be inside this? And is it just me, or is this thing freaking huge?” Vern mumbled, taking note of the tiny spec of a cockpit stationed at the front of the vessel. The cockpit itself actually looked pretty normal, with a plane-like front end connected to several huge cylinder-like structures that made up the rest of the behemoth vehicle. Almost like an extra-large passenger plane steering several grain silos the size of high-rises strapped to its sides.
System reconfiguration completed, flashed across Vern’s vision in bright green.
“It’s back?”
User data corrupted. Please reconfigure within two hours or face deletion. Select yes to consent and continue. The text continued, with a large yes and no hovering in front of his eyes.
“That hell,” Vern muttered, and a second later a timer appeared – 1:59:57 remaining. Deleted? This thing can’t be serious, can it? Vern felt insane for going along with everything that was unfolding before his eyes, but did he have a choice? If he did nothing, would he just stop existing?
“Y-,” Vern began to speak, but the moment he thought about selecting yes, it was selected, as if reading his thoughts. “Oh, okay then,” Vern muttered, starting to come to terms with this ‘system’ thing's apparent omniscience.
Race selection;
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Aaronbiv – Aaronbiv are similar in appearance to Gralgamovs, except that they exhibit extreme vulnerability to heat, and are very resistant to cold.
Abakeeva – Abakeeva shares few similarities to other races. However, they are known to be able to take on the faces of those they have consumed.
Abadoci – Abadoci are similar to Ognari, except far smaller than their towering lookalikes. They also exhibit keen senses rivaled by few.
Ackibi – Ackibi are similar in appearance to The Cacil. However, their physical attributes are relatively weak, and they exhibit traits of extreme collectivism.
“What the hell is this? It’s like a videogame, but with a billion freaking options,” Vern mumbled as he began scrolling faster and faster through the near-endless list, continuing until he came across human. It wasn’t a hard choice, since he didn’t want to be anything besides human anyway. Worst still, he didn’t know what any of these races were – their descriptions not offering a lot of help and he was more than a little terrified of being turned into some kind of insect or other undesirable creature. However, once he reached human, he noticed a few interesting options.
Demi-human - Demi-humans are similar in appearance to regular humans, except that they usually share resemblances with other races, often gaining extra abilities from said races.
Super-human – Super-humans are similar in appearance to regular humans, except that they usually have additional powers that make them super, in one way or another.
Mutated-human – Mutated-humans are similar in appearance to regular humans, except that they may have mutated features and additional powers.
Infested-human – Infested-humans are similar in appearance to regular humans, except that they have been infested by an external force, often altering features and powers.
This list continued, naming dozens of additional human types, but it was really only the super-human that stood out to Vern. If he could be a super-human, then why not? Starting this new life with superpowers sounded pretty awesome after all.
“Su-,” Vern went to speak, but before the words could escape his mouth, the list twisted into an unintelligible mess of strange, wingding-like shapes. “Should have figured,” Vern groaned as the image before his eyes began to warp and then flicker.
“S-ss-system error, ss-selected rr-rrace not ff-f-found" The mechanical voice echoed through Vern’s mind. “R-rr-revertting ss-sselection, ee-error, e-iiii-rrrrr-err-erroooorr eeee-iiiiiiii ra ra ra ra- er-ar-eror. Rrr-r-race ss-selection r-a-re-ra-reverted, iii-initiating bb-bb-backup pr-ppp-p-protoca-call. R-rr-race aa-assassigned, ii-in-f-f-infested-h-hu-h-human.”
“What the hell? Infested human? Are you serious? Since when did I ask for that?”
The system, or whatever it was didn’t seem to care much for Vern’s objections, and a second later, Class selection appeared. “Ignoring me then? Stupid machine. So, you’re just going to make me play this game, huh?” Vern said with a resigned sigh, realizing there likely wasn’t a lot of point arguing with an omnipresent machine, one that seemed to be going through an identity crisis no less.
As with the race list, the class selection also scrolled nearly endlessly, worsened by the timer painfully reminding Vern of his limited time left. He couldn’t spend too long reading through the endless options. Although, he had only used just over ten minutes so far, so wasn’t exactly in a rush just yet. He thought about what made sense and had already decided against picking something that had anything to do with his day job, he only worked at the electronics store for a paycheque, after all. The problem was, there wasn’t a lot else he was particularly good at. He had been serviceable at most sports, but nothing special. He wasn’t an idiot, or at least Vern didn’t think he was, but he also didn’t see himself as a genius and had always been far from the top of class, or anything like that. However, gaming was one area he actually felt somewhat confident, and everything about this reminded him of just that. So, if he was in his gamer’s mindset, what would he choose? Min-maxing, yeah, that’s what he would try and do if this was a video game. Usually, this meant playing around with what worked and reading online guides. Unfortunately, neither of those options seemed viable in this scenario.
Taking a quick glance at the timer, Vern was once again reminded that time would run out long before he got a chance to read even a fraction of the options presented to him. However, it didn’t sit well with him to just pick anything, either at random or after readying a tiny fraction of the short descriptions provided. There needed to be some means of gaming the system, or at least, he hoped there was.
Pressure mounted as his eyes desperately scanned the names, whilst his brain just about short-circuited trying to come up with some kind of plan whilst simultaneously reading.
“Damn it,” Vern sneered, realizing his ‘plan’ was hopelessly failing. Frustrated, Vern imagined the list scrolling through to something that suited him, and with that thought, the list suddenly began flicking through classes at a lightning-fast pace, before suddenly stopping.
Ironwork militia. The ironwork militia is a warrior of modest means who relies on defensive tactics to avoid perishing in combat. Whilst mediocre combatants on their own, the Ironwork militia can prove quite formidable in a group. Class graded at Superior F-tier.
Vern groaned as he read the description. What the hell? Had this stupid machine already delegated him to the life of some NPC? No way, Vern thought, dismissing the shitty-sounding class almost immediately. He had already read several descriptions, and not only had multiple sounded better than the Ironwork militia, but he had seen multiple E-tier classes, and even a few D-tier, including a superior D-tier. No way would he settle for an F-tier class; and did it even go any lower than that?
No, Vern needed to think. Who cares if that was the class suited for him? Vern had already experienced life at the bottom, he wasn’t about to accept just being thrown back there.
An idea sprung into his thoughts. Take me to the most powerful class, Vern willed. He didn’t actually expect it to work. Gaming the system couldn’t possibly be that easy, could it? But with that thought, the classes began to whirl past his eyes in a blur once more, before finally stopping again, several seconds later.
Blood Devil. The Blood Devil is one of the thirteen supreme devils, a unique class only provided to special individuals that fulfill unknown prerequisites. Little is known of the Blood Devil’s actual abilities, or any of the Thirteen Devils for that matter. Class graded at Superior B-tier.
Vern’s eyes widened as he read the description. He still had no idea what the class actually did, but it was the first B-tier class he had seen in over forty minutes of scrolling. In fact, he hadn’t even seen any C-tier classes – that alone told him he should probably just take the class. But before he did, Vern decided to revisit the thought he had before, this time imagining the best class possible, fantasizing about being even more powerful whilst he did. Again, the list spun, the class names becoming a blur as they whizzed past, finally stopping again thirty-odd seconds later.
Blood Devil appeared once more. At this point Vern was fairly satisfied it was the best option available to him, and he sure as hell wasn’t about to accept mediocrity just because this stupid machine seemed to think that’s what would suit him. If gaming had taught him one thing; was that if you were overpowered, it didn’t really matter if you were the best or not.
And so, with a confident grin, Vern confirmed his class selection.
Selections confirmed, user backup completed, corrupted files deleted.
“Okay, so I guess that’s over then…” Vern said as if waiting for a reply. “So, I’m an infected human with devil powers stuck on a mysterious spaceship I don’t know how to fly, by myself.” As the words rolled out of his mouth, Vern realized something, he didn’t actually know if he was aboard this spacecraft alone. He obviously knew the cockpit was empty, but if that screen was correct, there was far more to this vessel he had no clue about, or what might be lurking. A shiver ran down his spine at that thought, and Vern turned to look down the empty, faintly lit corridor behind him.
A minute went by as he eyed the empty corridor, unwilling to look away. Not that Vern had any plans on what he might actually do if something did come marching down the corridor. Would they be in a similar situation to him? Having found themselves randomly transported here and having just gone through what could only be described as character creation? What about Earth, his friends, and his family? Had they all gone through the same thing? Or was he special? Now wasn’t really the time to be worrying about others, Vern knew, but it made him wonder.
“Warning, warning, vessel caught in gravitational pull exceeds force expected. Threat detected - unknown source. Warning, warning.” Echoed a grating voice that sounded like it belonged to the more annoying cousin of the fire alarm.
“What now,” Vern sighed, turning back towards the cockpit window. His exasperated expression soon faded as he saw the warm glow of heat accumulate around the viewport, and the ringed, violet planet getting closer, too close. “That doesn’t look good.” There wasn’t much else that could be done about it, and Vern simply took a seat down in the cockpit chair and watched. Perhaps his body was well and truly exhausted of epinephrine because he didn’t seem to care too deeply any longer, whatever was about to happen, it was out of his control.