Lightforge’s eyes shot open and he tried to gasp. “Tried” being the key word, because he found himself floating in a blue-green liquid. He was in a glass tube, but he couldn’t see anything on the outside. He flailed in place, slamming his knees and elbows into the walls of the narrow tube. Somewhere there was a loud beeping sound. The fluid began to drain away around him.
As soon as the fluid was gone, the front of the tube opened and he fell out face first. He crashed to the ground in a heap, muscles frail and body aching. He groaned quietly but didn’t even attempt to get up; for the moment the ground felt like a perfectly fine place to rest.
After a few minutes, the strength came back to his body and he was able to slowly crawl to his feet. Wet and naked, he took a look around at his new surroundings. It looked like a shabby little apartment. In one corner there was an old, beat up couch the color of olives that looked like it had been picked up off the side of the road. Beside it was a refrigerator in equally poor condition. The opposite wall housed a computer desk, an old TV, and a set of three lockers. While the computer was actually in decent condition, each of the locker doors was bent and wouldn't quite close, but each in their own unique way.
He turned to inspect the tube where he’d come out of and found exactly what he’d expected. It was a standing glass tube set into an apparatus of spotless white plastic which was hooked up to an independent computer and a set of containers that sat on the ground next to it. The display was glowing with a soft blue light, and the inside held a space just large enough for a single person.
It was a revival pod. Which meant that this was his secret base. Every player, regardless of alignment, was given a base where they could rest and take refuge when they needed to. And, most importantly, it held your revival pod where your character would respawn whenever they died.
Just like he had.
The room spun and he stumbled. He had died, and the only reason that he hadn’t stayed that way was the tube full of magic goo behind him. It hadn’t been an accident and he hadn’t died like a hero. He’d simply been squashed like a bug for the amusement of a bunch of lunatics.
He took a few unsteady steps back to the revival pod and looked at the attached computer terminal. It was covered in complicated looking equations and formulas, which he’d always suspected were simply gibberish. There was some sort of in-game explanation for how it was supposed to work, but he’d never paid much attention to it. Now he suddenly felt a very pressing need to understand as much as possible about the machine
Tapping the keys did make the screen change, but not to anything useful. Just more formulas and charts. He tried again and found what he was looking for; a simple screen with a readout as clear as day.
Current Charge: 80%
Time to Full Charge: 29 days, 23 hours, 46 minutes, 12 seconds
Apparently he could die four more times before the machine was out of juice. And it took a full month to regain a single usage. He had some ideas about what might happen if he died with the machine on empty, and he really didn’t want to ever find out for sure.
With his morbid curiosity satisfied for the moment, he took a deep breath and turned away from the machine. While it had saved his life, dwelling on its functions wouldn’t do him much good right now. He needed to think.
He’d been an idiot; that much was clear. He’d seen the mob of heroes running around but hadn’t stopped to wonder why. Instead, he’d decided to find out the hard way. Apparently he was on a server with Player vs Player combat enabled, and that was always a great way to get players to act like the worst versions of themselves.
He walked over to the lockers and opened the first one. Just as he’d hoped, there was a perfect replica of the uniform that he’d woken up in. Or maybe it was the same uniform? He didn’t think there was any way to be sure, and he didn’t really care. He was naked, and he would rather not be anymore. He pulled on the skintight outfit, but left off the armored apron for the time being. He wouldn’t need that part until he decided to leave this room, and that didn’t seem like a certainty.
After all, this was his base, his refuge. So long as he was within these four walls, he couldn’t be harmed. He wouldn’t have to risk dying again. He wouldn’t have to risk finding out about the limits of the revival pod. He could just stay here, safe and sound until…
Until what?
He sat down on the couch and the truth of his situation finally hit him; he was trapped. Somehow he’d wound up in a world that he knew, but which was a lot more terrifying in person. A world where he hadn’t even lasted an hour before dying. What could he possibly accomplish by going out there again?
But what other option did he have? Sure, he could technically stay here in the room, but what about food and water? And even if he could solve that problem, he would go crazy from the isolation. Even if he didn’t, what kind of life would that be? Huddled in his hidden base, just hoping that he would eventually wake up back in his old world? It was just too sad.
He curled up on the couch and closed his eyes. He tried to stay calm and think clearly. More than anything else, he focused on who he really was. Not Lightforge, the enormous mountain of muscle , but the man he’d been before.
First the name. His name was Nick Calloway. He had his mother and younger sister still left in the world. A few close friends, many of whom he’d met through this very game.
In short, he had a life. People he loved, a home to return to. Not this run down little shack in the middle of a familiar world that was completely alien at the same time. A real home with his real family.
Instead of despair or sadness, he felt resolve form in the pit of his stomach. Somehow or another, he’d wound up in this world. He knew some of the rules, but not necessarily all of them. And since there was a way to get to this world, there had to be a way to leave it. And he was going to find it.
If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
But in order to do that, he would need power. Power that he couldn’t get by sitting inside, hiding away from the world and its challenges. He would have to face it.
His resolve hardened into a steel core in the depths of his soul. No matter what else turned out to be crazy in this new world, that one fact would never falter for him. Never allow him to falter or to give up. He was going to find a way home.
----------------------------------------
About an hour later, Lightforge stood at the front door of his hidden base. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He adjusted his armor and fidgeted in place. All he had to do was reach out and push a button.
But he was scared. Deep down, his resolve was unchanged, but that didn't help him move his fingers in the short term. He could feel the revival pod behind him, quietly waiting for the next time he died. And that moment would start its approach the instant that he stepped outside.
He reminded himself that this was still a game. It wasn't designed to kill him; it was designed to help him get stronger. He reached down into the steely resolve at his core and pushed the button.
The doorway disappeared and was replaced by a glowing green portal that would lead him out to wherever the other end was attached. With a final look around his secret base, he stepped outside.
He was surprised to find himself standing next to the dumpster that he'd landed in earlier. Apparently he'd been dropped off right on his own front door. It sure would have been nice to know that before he'd run off and gotten himself killed, but it was still good to know.
His secret base wasn't really in the building behind him; it was basically its own little pocket dimension. This was just where the door was set up. If he needed to, he could even move the gateway whenever he wanted.
Without a second thought he took a few running steps and leaped towards the fire escape a little ways down the alley. Since he was now a hulking mass of muscle, the jump easily carried him most of the way to the first landing. From there it wasn't long before he reached the roof. He'd been surprised from above once; he wasn't too keen on letting it happen again.
Thanks to his newfound strength, it was simple to leap from roof to roof as he explored his surroundings. He wasn’t the only one running around the rooftops, but the majority sported a blue glow, so he wasn’t concerned about them. He was much more concerned about figuring out where he was. Paramount City, the setting for EHO, was massive. While he was undoubtedly in one of the low-level areas on the periphery, that didn’t exactly narrow things down by much.
Finally he found a familiar sight: First Chance Grocers. Lightforge couldn’t help but grin at the sight of it; he was in luck. He’d landed in Chancery Hills, where he’d started most of his characters during the game. This was perfect; First Chance held the beginning of a popular starter mission line.
He was all but whistling to himself as he strode into the store. He immediately spotted the owner, Mr. Flaherty, a short man with red hair that was mostly gray at this point. Lightforge flashed the man a smile and stepped forward confidently.
"Good morning, sir," Lightforge said, "I'm a new hero in town and I'd like to help you with your problem."
"Not again!" Mr. Flaherty fumed and stomped angrily over to him, jabbing his chest with a bony finger. "You listen here," the shopkeeper said, "I appreciate the check-ins, but this is ridiculous! How many times do I have to tell you idiots! That punk drug dealer is long gone, and he ain't coming back!"
Lightforge stared at the man in open confusion. He opened his mouth to ask again, and the old man grabbed a broom to swing at the mountainous young hero.
"I said," Mr. Flaherty screamed, "He's gone! Now get out of my store before I call a real hero to get rid of you!"
Lightforge would have responded, but he was cut off by a notification window. It was blinking orange and said:
Warning: Vacate the premises or you will be reported for trespassing.
His eyes went wide and he darted out of the store.
None of this made sense. There were a few starter missions built into the game's informal tutorial process, but Mr. Flaherty's was one of the most popular since it was easy and won you a discount in that particular shop. On most servers that he'd played on, there had been a line of new players waiting for their turn to take the mission. It was a rite of passage for all new characters.
But now the shopkeeper had broken the rules. It's not that he'd refused to give out the mission; that happened from time to time due to bugs or system overload. But the old man had been actively annoyed at the prospect of someone else trying to take the mission. It was as if…
As if the mission had never reset after being completed the first time. While it had never made sense, the ability for every player to complete every quest or mission was a necessary part of any online rpg. If you took it away then it would be too hard for players to get the experience and equipment to get through the early stage of the game.
His thoughts flashed back to the mob of heroes that he'd seen roaming the streets, and something clicked into place. Their ferocity hadn't come from cruelty. They were desperate. Trying to gain enough power to survive in a world where they couldn't count on things like missions to move them along.
He forced the thoughts away. Too many assumptions based on what might be a simple glitch. He had to know for sure.
A few blocks over from First Chance, he found the start of another mission. A nondescript brick building with no sign out front and heavily tinted windows. Or, at least, that’s what he should have found. It was a mission to introduce the idea of criminal dens, which were just dungeons with a less fantasy sounding name.
This particular building was home to a gang of wannabe drug kingpins. A detective stood on the corner waiting for heroes to gather for the mission. Get the rundown from the detective, run in guns blazing, clear out everything inside, and get a nice reward. Nice and simple.
And now the building was in ruins. It was more pile of debris than anything else, full of cracked stone and burned cinders. It was cordoned off from the rest of the street, but the caution tape was broken in several places and was flapping freely in the breeze. There wasn’t any smell of smoke either. Whatever had happened to this place, it hadn’t been recent.
The detective was nowhere to be found. Why would he be? Obviously the job had already been completed. The gang had been wiped out, their operation obliterated, and their base left in shambles as a testament to the power wielded by heroes.
He swallowed hard at the implications and set off for another mission he could remember. But he already knew what he would find.
The missions had already been cleared, and they weren’t just going to magically reopen. No more repeats, no more guaranteed starter equipment. No more relatively safe ways to gain your early levels. Random encounters and fighting in the streets were now the only way to progress.
By the time the sun was getting low in the sky, he had all but confirmed it. Half a dozen missions spread throughout Chancery Hills, and all of them had been completed already. He’d even ducked down a shady back alley to check on a villain mission, and it was the same.
On the roof of a random building, Lightforge sat in the late afternoon sunshine, enjoying the warmth as he contemplated what he’d found. This wasn’t the game; at least not exactly. It would probably be smart not to treat it like a game, either. But why? Why was there a world so similar to EHO, but with all these little differences?
He’d found a few puzzle pieces, but not enough to even begin figuring out the picture. If he wanted to know more, then there was only one thing to do. Get stronger. Raise his level, meet more people, go places where he could find the answers. He needed to get moving and start gaining experience.