The Princess and the Mortician

“Horticus’ jovial nature was cute at first, but I must admit, his songs have begun to grate on me a bit. So disgusting! However, he is the best mortician I have ever seen and unquestionably good at his job.”

* from mutterings of the Blood Princess.

“Pieces, pieces, pieces,” an old voice sang from somewhere above me. “Lovely, lovely, pieces of meat. Neat, so neat, but not to eat, not to eat…”

My eyes were closed. I slowly opened them and was greeted by the most heinous set of yellow teeth I’d ever seen, surrounded by cracked grey lips that were in turn framed by a dusty grey beard the color of ash.

“Defeat, defeat,” the mouth continued to sing like a mother might sing a nursery rhyme to her child. “Slabs of meat, slabs of meat. Put back together and get on your feet!”

I was aware of his hands working on me, maybe thread stitching me back together, but a cloud of confusion hung over me like a semi-see-through sheet of worn cotton. As he continued to croon on, I felt the sheet begin to lift and slowly started to come to.

“Wh—where am I?” I managed to say.

The man stopped, his oily black eyes went wide, and with blinding, unexpected speed, threw himself back from the table where I lay and performed a gallant bow more befitting a knight than whatever he was.

“Ahhh, welcome, welcome to the world, my glorious meat puppet!” his voice seemed to dance upon an invisible piping of tiny organ pipes. “I am Horticus Humpheries—Sir Horticus Humpheries, the most horrifically humble, terrifically talented, devastatingly dexterous and astoundingly accomplished mortician to ever live! It has been my pleasure to revive you from your rest, cease your cessation and return you to the land of the living!”

Wow, what a speech, I thought as I sat up and swung my feet off the table where I had been lying. It was cold metal, and I looked down, expecting to find mirrored steel like you’d find in a morgue, but what I saw instead was a single slab of rusted iron that appeared to have been chewed out of something much larger.

I had to admit to being in complete awe. No game had ever just thrown me in the deep end in the way this one had. Spawning with no items, no name, no class, then getting my ass kicked by a level 1 mob that morphed into something completely unbeatable. Everything was top notch, from the sound design to the details crammed into every inch of every space I’d seen—it really felt like I’d been transported into another world. And then there was the man before me.

He wore a tattered black stovepipe hat on his head with a dark red sash wrapped around it. His coat was formal, almost like a tuxedo, with a frilled scarf stained with blood, and a dark apron draped across his coal pants and stopped just before his perfectly polished boots.

I remembered when Mizaguchi had announced that the NPCs in Blood Seekers would be fully sentient A.I., and couldn’t help but marvel at the mortician as he raised himself up from his bow, placed a skeletal hand across his chest and stared at me. This wasn’t just some pre-programmed character that every player would interact with in the same way. This was, for all intents and purposes, a real person. So what if they didn’t exist in the real world? Did that change anything as far as our interaction was concerned?

I opened my mouth to speak, but closed it again.

What would most players say at a time like this? I thought. Probably things like, “Where am I?” or “How do I create my character?” or “What was that Ravenous Beast that killed me?” But I didn’t want to ask him anything Mizaguchi and his development team could have already anticipated and programmed into him. If this man standing before me was truly sentient, I wanted a real reply. So, I thought a moment before I spoke.

“Horticus. Where did you learn that fancy bow of yours?”

A proud smile appeared on the the mortician’s lips as though I’d just made his day with my question.

“The court of Lady Sofia!” he announced proudly, flourishing a hand in the air. “I served as her physician for many years before The Crimson Banquet which ended her reign. I was forced to leave the castle and make my own way in the world, which led me here, but it is a habit I simply cannot outgrow!”

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Wow, I thought. That’s incredible.

There was a chance some other players had asked him a similar question, but I doubted it would be the first thing on most people’s minds. And to get such a detailed response, with such an incredible backstory…did every NPC in this world have an entire history like Horticus?

That reminded me. I opened my character sheet again and looked it over.

Unknown Player—Unknown Level

Still, no items in my inventory. I’d hoped what I’d gone through with the Ravenous Beast had simply been some form of initiation, a little wink and a nudge from Mizaguchi, letting us know what was in store for us, but apparently not. I was still as lost as I’d been when I arrived.

“Horticus,” I said. “Where the Hell am I? And where do I get a weapon?”

“You are at the Majestic Meat Mart of Sir Horticus Humpheries!” he replied with glee. “I only repair and restore. If you wish to set out on your path, you must see with The Blood Princess.”

“The Blood Princess?” I asked. That name didn’t sound too comforting.

“Princess Sophie,” he said with affection. “Daughter of Lady Sofia and so aptly named. I rescued her from the castle on that fateful day and we became my companion ever since. To choose your path, speak with her.”

I hopped down off the table. The thick, hardwood planks squeaked beneath my weight. More tables were strewn about the room with no apparent care or design.

Room for other players? I thought. Horticus took a step back and gestured towards an oval shaped door stuffed into a cramped corner of the room, flanked on both sides by fallen stacks of dusty old tomes.

“The Princess lies beyond that door,” he told me, almost as though instructing me. “May the wind favor your sails and the beast’s bite be far from your flesh.”

I knew he was being kind, trying to comfort me, but his words unnerved me.

My sails? The Beast’s bite? What is this place!? And where the Hell is Rey?

I felt like someone who’d never learn to swim, fighting to stay afloat amidst a raging storm. None of my gaming experience could have prepared me for this world. I knew it was pointless, but I opened my character sheet again just to make sure I hadn’t missed something. Of course I hadn’t.

I glanced at the door in the corner. It seemed as though walls and ceiling of the room sloped towards it, like it had some kind of gravity that was tugging at the rest of the world. The mortician’s lab had no other entrances or exits, and despite how off balance I felt, I wanted to get into the game, create my character and find Rey. So I put one foot in front of the other until I was standing in front of it.

“Horticus,” I said, glancing over my shoulder at him. “You haven’t seen a girl come through here in the last few minutes have you?”

“No, sir!” he replied stoically. “Only lads. Lads as far as the eye can see!”

I nodded. He was strange, but I couldn’t help but like the guy. “Thanks, Horticus.”

“My pleasure, good sir!” I grinned as he performed another of his magnificent bows, turned back to the door, took hold of the brown metal knob, and twisted. An unseen force took over as I pushed, pulling the door open the rest of the way as I stood there.

The room was dark, shrouded in shadows that seemed to cling to the walls like spider webs. At their edges were thick carpets of vegetation. Three-petaled flowers of dark red poking out from twisted vines covered in curved, serrated thorns. A pale blue light came from nowhere, illuminating the center of the room.

“Enter,” a voice whispered as a cool wind danced across my face.

The Blood Princes…I thought as I stepped forward. The blossoms and creepers seemed to twist around me, following me like they could feel my presence as I crossed the room.

“Come, Seeker,” the voice spoke again. In front of me, a tiny flicker of light seemed to beckon. I moved towards it and saw that the entire floor had been torn away, as though a mighty force had torn away the planks to reveal the chamber below. Someone had managed to cobble together a set of stairs, and as I grew closer to descend, I saw they were made from stacks and stacks of tattered coffins.

At the base of the steps, the floor of the chamber was dirt and stone. Flowers and vines hung from the walls and a pool of clear water sat at its center, wrapped in thick stacked stone. On its edge, sat a girl, barely a woman, wearing a white and red dress shaped like a bell that hung from her waist, and a crimson corset. Her sleeves were white lace, ornamented at the shoulders, and atop her head, she wore a tiara made from what looked like…teeth.

Her devastating beauty was matched only by her haunting presence, and as I took my first steps down the coffins toward her, she looked up at me with eyes that seemed to already know every one of my secrets.

“Ahhh, Seeker,” she spoke, her voice like soothing liquid from a snake’s tongue. “I The Mortician has done his job once again. Come, sit with me by the water.”

The dirt was soft beneath my feet as I stepped off the coffins and walked towards her. Her head did not move, but her eyes followed me with laser-like focus. When I reached her, she did not speak, a feeling of extreme discomfort ran through me.

“So, what—?”

“Seeker,” she interrupted. “This is the Realm of the Dying. I can offer you transcendence into the realm of the living, but I require something from you in return.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Fealty,” she replied. Reaching behind her, she produced an enormous tome bound with an iron latch. She inserted a key, opened it and presented to me, a blank page. “Sign your name here, swear yourself to me, and I will help you on your journey.”

She then reached into her hair and withdrew a pin, its sharp tip shining dangerously.

“Draw your name in blood, and the contract will be fulfilled.”

She offered the pin to me, as though there was no other option but to take it, and finally, I understood.

This is how I create my character!