I enter the tavern and follow a dark, narrow hallway decorated with various monster head sculptures. A few belong to creatures I recognize, and some I don’t. There are no dragons, and that, plus the whole dragons are extinct at the end of game thing, makes me rethink my assumptions about the tracks in the concrete. Maybe they were supposed to be something else? It seems like a lot of attention has been paid to making this feel authentic, so a flat-out mistake doesn’t seem right.
I’m probably just missing something. Like I said, it’s not my fandom.
The tavern tap room is huge, clearly meant for large parties, and I assume the Experience will host two dozen people or more at a time— at least, once previews are over. I wonder how that’ll change the after-tavern portion. Erin told me it was like an Easter egg search through a notable Qeth location, and that there would be a raid that would allow people to fight at some stage. She mentioned something about cultists, which I remember seeing in some of the rough marketing footage.
Tavern music pipes in. Display cases of adventuring garb from the show’s teaser and the newly released character posters dot the room: adventurer’s armor, an elvish princess gown with embroidered floor-length cape sleeves, and a few outfits that look a lot like what Tasha was wearing. The walls all have a wood effect to them, and the light sources are sconces that flicker with electric firelight. Weapons are mounted to the walls, too: swords, battle axes, and an ornately carved bow surrounded by an array of arrows each with a different arrowhead and fletching.
I take a slow tour around the area, trying to take it all in, and end up at the bar where a woman straight out of central casting is playing a barmaid. She’s voluptuous, a trait accentuated by her renaissance faire corset top. Her curly blond hair frames a heart-shaped face and halfling styled ears. She is five-foot-nothing, being generous, and she stands on a stool to greet me over the bar top.
“Bright morning, stranger!” Her character voice is somewhere on the borderland between an American attempt at Irish and Scottish, and she grins almost as widely as Tasha did. “I see you’re an adventurer. Are you here to answer the call?”
“Uh, sure,” I say, feeling out of my element. I thought it would be like playing D&D, but it feels more like that improv class I took to trying to get better at public speaking. I was terrible at it. “What call is that?”
“Och, you name it,” she replies. “It seems like a new one goes out every day. Goblin raids. Orkish poachers. I even heard tale of a giant seen in the foothills outside the city.”
“Sounds intense.”
“Oh, it can be. But that’s why adventurers like yourself make your way here! Can I get you anything to start the morning before you investigate the encounters board in the square?”
Encounters board. Wow. Okay. So maybe I’ll fight a giant with… something.
But first, a drink. Hopefully, that’ll make this whole thing a little easier.
I study the barrels behind her. “Tasha said something about the lavender one?”
“Ah, yes. That’s a house specialty. One Spicy Bog Hag coming up.”
I almost choke at the name and cough to cover up a laugh. She smirks, then glances around before leaning in. “I’ve been giving it a new name every time,” she murmurs. “What do you think of that one?”
“It’s perfect,” I whisper back.
She nods, still smirking, and takes a small pewter-looking tankard about the size of my morning Hydroflask hot cup. She drops in two glowing novelty ice cubes before turning to one of the barrel taps and pouring. She glances at me, winks, and continues to let it flow. Maybe I should have taken a Lyft, though I doubt it’s especially strong.
I thank her and move to one of the round high-tops, easing onto the stool and setting the bag on the table. With that, I hear a chirp and open it to find the Incite tablet lit up.
Just as Tasha promised, it is a special edition, skinned to fit in with the aesthetic of Qeth—somehow both ornate and rustic, falling right in line with classic quasi-medieval European fantasy. The carved wood-looking case has dragons on each of the corners connected by vines, and the symbols to each of the four main adventurer class types: melee fighter, ranged attacker, spell caster, and healer.
> Bright morning, adventurer! Welcome to the Wide Sky Tavern and Inn. You are new to the city of Oosal, so please take a moment to introduce yourself.
>
> [Enter Name: Keira ]
>
> [Select Preferred Pronouns: She/Her ]
>
> [Cultural Identity [?] Detected: Hunter Elf ]
>
> [Select Background [?]: [Select] ]
[Background]. Hm. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that character creation can be a time suck.
Though, at least there’s not a [Customize Appearance] option. In customizable RPGs, I usually spend hours trying to tweak the avatar as close to myself as possible, but, in this case, I am me already. Frizzy, humidity-tortured hair and all.
Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.
I take one look at the nearly two dozen background options, each with its own description window and myriad of subtypes, and realize I could easily spend the rest of the day reading through and deciding who I want to be for the next forty minutes. Frankly, the free drink—even with a heavy pour—isn’t big enough for that and, awesome new bag or no, I’m not emotionally invested enough either.
I select [Random] and hit [Next]. This takes me to the following screen.
> [Assign Stats [?] 4 Points Remaining]
>
> [Nimble [?] 4]
>
> [Mind [?] 3]
>
> [Strength [?] 3]
>
> [Fitness [?] 2]
>
> [Sage [?] 3]
I tap the question mark next to [Assign Stats].
> [Assign Stats. Every culture has its own average base stats at which each adventurer will begin (e.g., the average adult human townsperson will have a 3 across stats). A level 1 adventurer has 4 points to assign, and will receive an additional point at levels 3, 7, and 13. You may subtract points from average stats to reassign, but no stat may go below 2 or exceed 10. Certain magical items may, however, impact stat totals.]
Without knowing what background I’ll randomly be assigned, it’s hard to guess what stats I should focus on, but it ultimately doesn’t really matter. I’m not dedicating eighty hours to this—just one fraction of one morning. This shouldn’t be difficult.
Alright. So, I’m an elf, and it seems to follow traditional elf archetypes: assuming three is the average, then “I” would have above average [Nimble] and below average [Fitness]. I decide to pump an extra point into both so I’m at least average in the latter, and then two into [Sage], which I assume is this system’s version of “wisdom.” Elves are wise, right? I don’t know what that’s going to do for me in this scenario, so maybe it’s a waste, but perhaps I can intuit something to death. Or maybe I’ll be a spell caster of some sort, which could be very cool depending on the VR.
I tap [Confirm], which takes me to a third page, this one of [Skills]. There are eleven skills, each with eight squares next to it, and a point counter at the top. It looks like it was taken directly from the game, which I suppose makes sense. The studio bought the full rights, so why not make use of existing structures? It is probably a bit of overkill for this particular situation, though, and I wonder how many people are really going to take the time to think about this. Then I remember all the dragonscale hoodies I saw at the last PAX and realize this is probably going to be the most popular part of the whole Experience.
> [Abilities [?] 5 points remaining]
>
> [Athletics]
>
> [Charisma]
>
> [Insight x]
>
> [Lore]
>
> [Mount]
>
> [Perception x]
>
> [Skullduggery x]
>
> [Stealth x]
>
> [Survival x]
>
> [Weapons: Melee]
>
> [Weapons: Ranged x]
Some abilities already have boxes filled in. Logically, they seem to tie into stats that I have above average numbers in, namely [Sage], which I assume ties into [Survival], [Perception], and [Insight]. I have no idea what to make of [Skullduggery], but I imagine that must be things like lock-picking and checking for traps.
A slight thrill goes through me at that prospect. Maybe I’ll be a rogue. A little stabby-stabby of some virtual bad guys may be exactly what I need, and that sounds so cool that I look for a back button so I can change my [Background] off of “random.”
Unfortunately, there is no back button. I wish it had warned me. Then again, I imagine they don’t want people sitting here for hours going back and forth.
I play around with entering in squares to account for my five points and realize that, like many games, it’s not one-to-one. The first box costs one point, the second two, the third three, etc. I have enough to bring all of my abilities to one level, but I’ve played enough RPGs to know that being a generalist is never as helpful as it seems like it should be. Better to specialize. That said, it’s easier to specialize when you know what’s coming, or at least have a vague idea. Maybe I should broaden, cover my bases.
No. Erin promised some monster madness. I should prepare for that.
I’m trying to remember how it worked in the game itself, but it’s been so long since I tried to play. I spend one point in [Weapons: Melee] and then bring my [Weapons: Ranged] up to two. I debate using my remaining two points for another rank in [Survival], but then I throw one in [Charisma] and one in [Athletics] instead. That gives me at least one rank in everything but [Mount] and [Lore], which I doubt I’ll need for a forty-minute VR Experience.
But, so much for specializing. Maybe I’ll come back when it opens to the public and try a different approach. Assuming this is any good. And, assuming I can even get a ticket.
I look my abilities over one last time and sigh. Good enough.
Finishing the last swallow of my drink, I stand, about to give the tankard back when I remember it’s mine to keep.
“VIA,” I can’t help but mutter and make sure I drain every drop possible before tucking it and the two glowing ice cubes into the bag next to the hoodie.
Moira is no longer behind the bar. I was going to ask her some questions about what to expect, test the world building of the Experience, but ah well. I take the two small clips that will allow me to turn my glasses into an interface and attach them to the temples so they sit right up against my skin. I tap each to ensure the Bluetooth is working, and a sheen coasts briefly over my lenses before a [Paired] confirmation pops up in the upper right corner. This gives a new dimension to the tavern area. It’s more atmospheric now, feeling more lived-in as the set sensibility all but disappears. Pulling my adventurer’s bag over my shoulder, I make for the door that should lead out into the rest of the Experience.
What is labeled a [Magic Mirror] covers the wall just before the door. In it, I see a holographic overlay that visually transforms me into a Qethian adventurer. The long prosthetic ears look real, reaching out from behind my dark hair, which smoothly curls over my shoulders (something it never actually does—proof positive it’s a filter of some sort). My tall, slender frame is now decked out in a fitted, cream-colored tunic with long sleeves. I no longer appear to be wearing glasses and, in editing them out, it slightly exaggerates the faint dusting of freckles over my nose. My black yoga pants are now sturdy dark gray suede leggings, and my ballet flats have been visually transformed into brown leather boots that buckle up and reach over my knees (rare for someone five-foot-ten, further evidence that it is indeed a hologram). If I move quickly, the façade takes a fraction to catch up, but overall, the effect is pretty cool.
A flash on the bottom right of my vision catches my attention.
> [Take selfie?]
“Sure,” I say aloud, and I smile, giving an anime girl peace pose. There’s a blink.
> [Selfie saved to Incite]
“Right on. Let’s do this.”
I roll my shoulders back, adjust my bag and, the very instant I push open the tavern door, an earthquake hits.