Joe pulled up to the prison and parked at the edge of the parking lot. "It sure does take a lot of people to care for a few inmates," He thought as he walked toward the prison, which was still a good distance away across a huge parking lot. The structures ahead were a grouping of low grey buildings surrounded by several layers of fencing. As he approached, he thought about his friend Wayne, who had become a paraplegic at the same time he had murdered another man, but then Jesus had made Wayne alive for real. Wayne had totally submitted to justice and admitted to his crime. The modern parity of a justice system had chewed him up and spit him out, giving him a life sentence despite Wayne's having testified against his former gang brothers. The gang had, for the last twenty years, sought to kill him in retribution. Wayne had lived more than half his life in solitary confinement to keep him "safe".
Pastor Joe shook his head; what a beautiful tragedy.
This inmate, above any that Joe ministered to, was joyful. The system, both the prison and his old gang, had done their best to beat it out of him, but it was a joy that could not be beaten out.
Earlier that day, Wayne had messaged him and asked for a visit. Some new opportunity had come up for Wayne, and he wanted to speak to his Pastor about it. Joe thought he knew what this was about. Over his years of visits, he had gotten to know a lot of the prison staff, and he had heard rumblings about changes and was excited for Wayne.
Being a regular volunteer, Joe cleared security quickly and walked through several more layers of gates and guards to arrive at Wayne’s building. It was long, low, and white. As he entered the building, there were small "yards" to the right and left, twenty-foot square areas with fake grass where the inmates in this block would recreate alone daily. Joe hoped that Wayne would be able to stretch his legs more than that soon.
When Joe arrived at Wayne's cell, the guard brought a chair and opened the small hole in the door that they had to communicate through. Once they had said their hellos, Wayne jumped right in, "Pastor Joe, many would consider my life miserable. I don't. I find deep satisfaction in knowing and serving God, but my service feels so limited. I do my best to give a testimony to the guards, but I feel like I was meant for something more. As strange as it may sound, they are offering us the chance to live inside a game. I was never into that stuff, but this sounds like more than just a game; it sounds like a new life. Have you heard about this?"
"Fantasy Mainline?" Joe asked.
"Yeah, the name makes me a little worried; I have never been able to walk the mainline prison yards because people want to kill me. But apparently, in this place, if you do die, you come back in a minute or so for another try. And I won't look the same or have the same name. Maybe I can have a somewhat normal life again, pastor. But will God be angry with me if I do? I would gladly live in this little cell for the rest of my life if that is what God wants. Would I be exchanging the world God made for a world man has made?"
Joe realized that mainline had more than one meaning and nodded, "Wayne, you live in a building that men made right now. But we would still say that God made it just that He did so through men. Correct?"
Wayne nodded.
Realizing he was using an argument Lance might have used, Joe continued, "The game is really no different; it is something that God made through men. A member of our church, a seminary student, is in there right now. I don't think that it would be wrong if you chose to have a new life in a new world."
Wayne’s smile was always infectious, but this one stretched nearly ear to ear.
Joe continued, "You have my contact information, right?"
Wayne did have Joe’s number; it was the only one he had on his account. No other family or friends had stayed with him. "Yup, I have it."
"Then we should still be able to meet weekly for our talks. Send me a vid request once you are in. How fast do you think it will be?"
"They say if I can make a decision in..." Wayne looked at his simple digital wristwatch, "six minutes. I can be in tonight. That new structure they have been building to the North is where we will be housed. Apparently, those of us who are disabled are getting the first shot at getting in."
"Well then, I don't want to delay you from your new life." Joe gave Wayne a big smile.
"Thank you, pastor, thank you so much!" Joe reached into the cell and gave Wayne's hand a squeeze and then turned and walked away with a tear running down his cheek. This game was consuming his closest friends.
**********
Wayne woke up in a soft bed, he had forgotten what a soft bed felt like, so he kept his eyes closed and just enjoyed it for a moment. Then he felt the strangest things, his toes. He could feel his toes! He must be in the game, but this was so real that it blew him away. Lord, I trust it's been your will for my life to enter this game. There is no going back now. Thank you for a chance to live for you in this new place. Thank you for this happiness and maybe even joy I am feeling. Please help me to serve you here with every breath. Give me wisdom. I have a lot of knowledge but not much wisdom so I need Your Holy Spirit here with me now. He felt that rush of sensation that he associated with being filled with the Spirit, but he could never know for sure. He just laid there and enjoyed the feeling for a moment and then sat up. It was difficult at first: his brain was apparently trying to learn how to control his legs for the first time in two decades.
A voice to his right said, "About time!"
Wayne whipped his head around to face the source. A small green-looking beast of a man stood in the air about five feet off the ground. "Who are you?"
"Otis is my name," the creature replied, "and being your guide is my game."
Wayne thought for a moment, this was certainly the game. He knew that there was magic and stuff like that here, but this was nuts. He figured he was good at rolling with the punches so he said, "Okay, then tell me what I need to know. How do I get kitted out, how do I start playing."
"Whoa there cowboy, slow down. First things first. You came with special instructions. You need to learn how to walk again first."
Wayne spent the next hour adjusting his brain to having legs again. He had kept himself in shape as well as he could given his circumstances, but he felt like he had endless energy here. As he learned to walk, squat, jump, jog, and many other things he looked at himself. He had seen the classic film series The Lord of the Rings so he knew what an orc was. As he looked at himself he was sure he looked exactly like himself still. He knew that inmates played orcs in the game so he wasn’t sure why he still looked like a human. He sure did not want to look like himself in the game: too many people from his old gang knew his face.
After he felt confident with his new legs, Otis led him over to a wall of his room, which was paneled in a rich brown wood almost the same color as his skin. The little creature (maybe he was a little orc?) pushed a panel and a mirror popped out of the wall. Wayne walked in front of it and was shocked. In the mirror was a much larger version of the little orc that floated next to him, and it moved with him.
Stolen novel; please report.
"Whenever you come back here you will look like you do in the real world, but in the game, you will be playing an orc. What we are doing now can only be done one time. Once your in-game appearance is set, you will not be able to change it."
Otis prompted Wayne to use a set of sliders to change his appearance. Wayne worked to make the orc in front of him look as human as possible, but not at all like him. No big tusks sticking out of the mouth, narrower head, a little taller. Eyes brown instead of purple, hair black and not deep green. Finally, the orc in the mirror looked as human as Wayne knew how to make him, kind of like a small version of The Hulk.
"Next you are going to need to learn to use a HUD. You have been out of society for a bit and this is a skill you don't have." Otis explained.
The little orc walked him through bringing up the display, using the settings and inventory, and popping items into his hand. Otis then brought him over to another wall which morphed to show four squares. The first had a sword embossed on it, the second a wand, the third a cloak, and the last had a staff. "These are the four entry-level classes: fighter, mage, thief, and cleric. A fighter is someone who focuses on physical damage, and if you work in a group, you can choose take damage for the weaker players. A mage is a magic user who fights with spells, but can’t take much damage. A thief is sneaky and can also do a lot of damage but can’t take much damage either. Clerics fight okay, but they also use spells their god gives them to heal others."
What Wayne heard was, Fighters are noble and defend their friends. Mages are twinkies who do weird stuff. Thieves… I am no longer a thief! Priest equals false prophet. The choice was clear to him, he reached out and chose the sword.
Otis nodded approvingly, "Fighters start with Shield Bash, and Power Strike and the ability to use all one handed weapons and shields are the abilities. Power strike lets you use up some of your stamina to make your attacks more powerful. Shield Bash allows you to bash your opponent with your shield.
"Now you need to choose your specialization. Three options here: Being a tank will give you the taunt ability which will allow you to make yourself the focus of all of your enemies attacks, taking the focus off the other members of your party. If you choose berserker, you will loose the shield and shield bash ability and will gain access to all two handed weapons and the ability to go berserk spending stamina to greatly increase your damage, but also make you more likely to be hit by opponents. The last option is warrior, this one will allow you to keep the shield but will also allow you to wield two handed weapons. When you do you can choose to use your weapon like a shield by spinning it."
Grog nodded and gave the only response he could, "I am a tank."
As he said this the wall morphed and showed four more squares, "These are the four alignments and gods you must choose amongst."
"I ain’t choosing a god, I already have one."
"Not possible", Otis said, "you have to choose one."
Wayne felt a tightening in his chest, no way, this was not fair. "What do you mean I have to?"
A large book appeared in the small orc’s hand. "It says here that you must choose a god. If you don’t then one will be chosen for you."
"What are the choices?"
Since you are an orc your default choice is Dajixian the god of orcs, he is chaotic evil but if you want you can choose one of the other three."
"Which one is the good one?" Wayne asked.
"No good ones here, you are playing an orc, and orcs are evil by nature.", something resolved then for Wayne. People felt that inmates were all evil people. Some of them had been evil when they came to prison. But many had just been moving along with the flow of their culture when “the man” had snatched them up and destroyed their lives. But culture does not make an action good or bad. A bad culture produces bad people. A few, like Wayne himself, had been transformed in prison and were objectively good by the merits of Jesus. Just like he had not been given an opportunity to choose his race, it was clear to Wayne in this moment that the prison system viewed all inmates as evil and thus had made this choice on his behalf. This really ground at Wayne's sense of justice, but he calmed himself, said a quick prayer, and looked up. "Okay, then which is the least evil?"
"The choices are chaotic evil, chaotic neutral, neutral evil, and true neutral."
"So tell me about the true neutral god."
Otis flipped open his book again and read in a flat voice, "Dryania, the goddess of forests, is a fairy god and grants her followers bonuses when they are in a forest. She offers the basic healing spells plus the ability to make healing bandages out of the leaves of certain trees. She requires her followers to avoid involvement in political and moral issues."
As he thought about Dryania the top left square which was filled with a tree symbol began to glow. He reluctantly reached out and touched it.
"One last thing then, what will people call you."
Wayne thought for a moment and then said, "Call me Grog."
"Okay, you are ready to go then."
"Can I make a call first?" Wayne asked.
**********
As the white dome faded Grog found himself standing in the middle of a village full of Orcs. If he had been dropped into a dragon's den, he could not have been more terrified.
He was sure there were inmates here from his old gang. The gang had painted a target on his back and he was sure there were many others who would be glad to oblige them. But he also knew showing fear to these predators was not wise. So, he said a quick prayer asking for boldness and headed out of town. Some lady tried to get him to save her pet lizard, who she said had been stolen by halflings, but he rushed past paying her no attention.
Once out of town, he sighed in relief and looked around him. This place was just so huge. He was amazed to realize he had walked in one direction for maybe half of a mile. He had been locked in a cell with daily access to a tiny exercise yard, the difference between that and this was stunning. And everything was so real. He picked up some leaves and crumpled them in his hand, he bent down to smell the crumbles and an earthy sent filled his nostrils. "Praise God." He said.
Dropping to his knees he prayed, Dear Lord Jesus. I know that this place is not really real, but in every way that I can see it feels completely real. I know that my real body, the one you redeemed with my soul, is still in bondage, but you have given me so much freedom, freedom I do not deserve. Thanks and praise to you. I know that you want me to be bold and one who influences others too. I ran away from my first chance to do that. Lord, will you hear Pastor Joe's prayers and make me bolder around other people.
As he stood he looked up to see a creature lumber toward him. It looked like a lizard but it was easily four feet long. Over its head, a tag was suspended
"Otis, do I have any weapons?" He asked the small orc on his shoulder.
"Yes, you have a sword and shield and your body knows instinctively how to use them. You can summon them by just thinking about it."
As the lizard rumbled toward him, a shield and mace appeared in his hands equipped and ready to use. His instincts told him to bring his shield up and step to the side as the creature barreled in. He did and the charge was deflected, but the lizard was quick to spin around and lash out with a clawed foot.
That blow had stung. Not really hurt as it would in the real world, but he had certainly felt it. He swung his mace down on the lizard's neck and a little <3> floated up over its head. While the lizard was looking for a way around Grog's shield he thought he would try something.
He thought Shield Bash and his body stepped forward and his shield shot out smashing the lizard in the snout. A <4> floated up followed by
<7>
He lifted his weapon and thought Power Strike again, but nothing happened this time. It appeared he did not need the extra power.
<3>
All of the animating energy left the creature as it fell to its belly.
"The second Power Strike did not work because there is a 5-second cooldown on that ability, same with Shield Bash. You need to wait 5 full seconds between uses of those." Otis said. "Also notice that green bar." The creature pointed to the top left of Grog's HUD.
"Yes, it was bigger before, right." Grog said.
"Correct", Otis said. "Using skills and abilities reduces your stamina and when it is out they don't work. But it does come back over time and you will get more as you gain levels."
Grog nodded, this all made some sort of sense.
"You are a bit down on health, not a good place to be. If you remember you have a heal spell that will drain a little mana but should heal you up real good."
"Heal," he thought and after a brief green glow surrounded his body his red bar filled up all the way.