LEVEL UP!
YOU HAVE REACHED LEVEL 1
YOU MAY NOW SELECT A CLASS
Lying face down in the dirt, the window dominated my vision. My vision? My eyes were closed and I was lying face down. It was just in my head.
"wrftuhfrk" I attempted to say the most relevant sentence of the day through a mouthful of dirt.
I pushed myself to my feet, coughing up dirt and still holding a bird on a stick.
A deep, hearty laugh roared from behind me.
"Well done, ye daft wee bairn!" Steve said through semi-unhinged cackling.
"What are ye noo, a level 10 clarty assassin?" He said, thoroughly losing it - again - at his own joke.
"What?" I coughed, in what I realized was my first direct address to Steve.
"I should be all kinds o' miffed that ye pinched ma kill, but that was sae daft I cannae even bring masel' tae skelp ye." Steve said, wiping away tears.
"What are you?" I hesitantly asked, bringing my stick of woodpecker slaying to bear.
"What next, ye gonnae stumble an' skewer me on yer kebab?" he roared through another bout of uncontrollable laughter.
"Ye nivver clapped eyes on a Level 6 Nutter Knocker afore?"
Not at all confident in my mental translation of what was just said, I stayed silent, waiting for something more to go on. Steve didn't seem nearly as antagonistic as in our first encounter when I was knocked out of a tree by my nuts. Wait.
"Nutter Knocker? So... you basically just win fights by going for the nuts?"
"Naw, ye numpty. I win every tussle, but no' wi' sneaky ploys like that. I use ma noggin. An' ma braw physique, mind ye." Steve proclaimed, drawing himself to his full 12-inch height and puffing out his tiny furry chest.
"But - " I started, only to be immediately cut off.
"Oh, ye mean rescuin' ye frae the Twisting Tree? That wisnae any kind o' fight, I was rescuin' yer sorry bahookie frae the beastie. Ye were lookin' awfy like a lumpy sack o' pudding stuck on a branch, ye'd be nae mair than easy pickin's. Had I kent ye were a leveler, I'd hae let ye fend for yersel'."
Taking several seconds to parse... that... I finally asked tentatively, "a leveler?"
"Aye, an' lucky for ye, else ye'd still be a pile o' mush in ma pit."
"He doesn't know what a leveler is, Archibald." said a new voice. A condescending, monotonous voice, dripping with 'I'm better than you' energy. No, wait, it was just a British accent.
I whirled around, catching the shimmering red coat emerging from the underbrush. Some kind of wolf? No, a fox - but nearly the size of a wolf. It slunk forward, its every movement calculated and deliberate.
"Congrats on the big pecker, kid," the fox said with a smirk. "Now quit waving it around. Show some respect."
I realized I was still brandishing a woodpecker on the tip of my accidental weapon. I took a few steps back so I could keep both creatures in view, then slowly lowered my stick without taking my eyes of the newcomer. In my mind, I pictured the bird cleanly sliding off my "blade" and onto the ground. No such luck. Maintaining eye contact, I gave the stick a quick shake, trying to knock the bird loose.
Ten seconds later, I was still flicking a dead bird and holding eye contact with a talking fox.
"What is this Black Mirror Zootopian shit" I muttered under my breath, aggressively shaking my stick and refusing to look away from what I was certain was an extremely dangerous beast.
"Not quite 'Zootopia,' but not far off. Better examples from your memories might be the 'Diablo' video game franchise and the 'Men in Black' movies." the fox said, meeting my gaze with bright yellow eyes and a stare that went straight through me.
"From my mem-"
"Archibald, be a dear and help the lad with his pecker." I was swiftly interrupted by the fox's pompous voice.
"I'm nae deer and I've nivver been a deer. Nor can I turn intae a deer. An' a man's pecker is his ain, he should yank it aff hissel' " bit back a suddenly very gruff Archibald (definitely not Steve, then).
"Archie, darling, this is getting embarrassing. The poor boy is evidently bewildered and in a state of mortal dread, and it is only through my esteemed guidance that his fears might be allayed. However, I shall not deign to expound further whilst his limp pecker is still intruding upon our discourse!"
"Quit bein' a pompous erse. Nae amount o' grand, fancy jabberin' could convice me tae tug anither man's pecker. He's gien the beast a guid throttlin' and now its 'is, fair an' square."
Just then, with my face growing redder by the word, my aggressive shaking finally sent the unfortunate bird flying - one last time. Directly into the mouth of Mr. Fox (yes, that's his name until he tells me otherwise). Well, maybe not directly into his mouth... he definitely snatched it out of the air and chomped down.
Archie spluttered momentarily before angrily spouting "Ye wee prick, ye've been wantin' tae gobble 'is pecker aw along! It's nae richt tae nibble on anither man's pecker. He master'd that auld woody wi' his ain two haunds, richt in front o' me. It's just nae richt, I tell ye!"
Mr. Fox shamelessly and easily bit the dead bird in half, quickly swallowing one piece before cleaning up the fallen half. Archie continued to angrily mutter in the background about shameless pecker gobbling. Convinced Archie wasn't a threat at the moment, I turned to face Mr. Fox.
Before I could say a word, he started. "The name's Nigel, not Mr. Fox, thank you very much. And no, I wasn't planning to "gobble your pecker" as Archibald so rudely suggested. I just - some instincts are harder to suppress than others. I'm a fox. I'm not not going to eat a bird thrown directly at me." He simultaneously looked guilty and challenging as he said this.
"Can you read my mind?" I asked tentatively. "I haven't said that out loud once, and you said something about my memories earlier. What are you?"
"As I said before, my dear Gregarious," He said my name slowly and with emphasis, "I am a fox. I'm also a Level 2 Mind Mage. Because you're a Level 0 Human, yes, I can essentially read your mind."
"I - " Nigel immediately cut me off and continued.
"I know, I know, ' a level 0 human? What does that mean? What are you talking about? Everything is soo scary!' " Nigel said, rising in pitch to a mocking tone.
"Archibald here doesn't understand much more than you, he's just not bright enough to question any of it."
Casting a glance back at the tiny brawler, I could see he was thankfully not paying attention, still fuming and grumbling curses to himself. I caught something like "puddock-heided, gallus-faced, skelf-shanked..." before turning my attention back to Nigel.
I tried again. "But - " And was immediately cut off again.
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"I can sense that your paranoia about the whole mind-reading thing is inhibiting your ability to take in anything else. Let's address that before we continue, shall we?" Nigel said condescendingly.
"Any creature 5 or more levels below me is entirely an open book. Open to reading... and writing. No, I'm not controlling your mind, calm down. Yes, I know you're technically level 1, but you haven't made a class selection and so are effectively level 0. That's what we need to take care of. Once you reach level 1, you're beyond my ability to influence or read. Mostly."
Before I could question that, Nigel charged on - seemingly adamant that as long as he could sense my thoughts I shouldn't be allowed to speak.
"Every time you level up you'll receive a prompt in your mind. For most levels, it'll be just that. Essentially a notification to be dismissed. At your first level and occasionally at significant milestones such as levels 5, 10, and 25, you'll be prompted to upgrade your class or gain new skills. Obviously, there will be slight nuances based on your class and race, but I won't bore you with that. Now, go ahead and pick your class so we can have a real conversation. Your thoughts are incredibly dull and repetitive." He rolled his eyes as he finished.
I stared at the alien fox as he explained that I was essentially a character in a video game. My mind drifted back to the extreme concussion theory. Either that or I was dead.
"You're not dead yet, and your brain is not more damaged than when you woke up this morning. In fact, every bit of you is in a significantly better condition than ever before. The how and why of it all are a bit unclear, even to me. But I've got some of the pieces. We'll talk about that later. For now, I need you to go ahead and choose a class."
"I - "
"Oh right, you don't know how." God, this mind reading thing was really getting old.
"Just close your eyes and look for the prompt." Nigel sighed.
Right. That makes sense.
I closed my eyes... nothing. I cracked an eye to see if Nigel was fucking with me. I immediately realized that a talking fox telling me to level up was barely on the "weird shit" list from today.
I closed my eyes again. Still nothing. I whispered "Level Up?", hoping that would do... something. Nope.
I could hear Nigel sniggering.
"He'll figure it out."
I cracked an eye again to see Archy had cooled off and made his way next to the much larger Nigel. They were both just sitting, watching me intently.
Again, I closed my eyes and focused on... focusing. I had no idea what I was doing. I let my mind wander a bit, reliving the events of the day. As I remembered the unfortunate events that led to the whole "pecker" debacle, I remembered the window. And suddenly, there it was again.
LEVEL UP!
YOU HAVE REACHED LEVEL 1
YOU MAY NOW SELECT A CLASS
I "acknowledged" the window with a thought, and a new window appeared.
YOU HAVE (4) STARTER CLASS OPTIONS AVAILABLE:
(1) Beast Hunter: Expert in using spears for hunting large or mythical beasts, often incorporating traps and tracking skills.
(2) Forge Miner: A class that combines mining with blacksmithing, able to mine ores and immediately craft them into weapons or armor.
(3) Pathfinder: Skilled in charting courses and discovering shortcuts, with an innate sense of direction and the ability to navigate complex routes.
(4) Rapid Responder: A first-aid or support class that uses speed to reach and assist allies in need quickly.
I read each option multiple times, thinking about the implications of each. Beast Hunter sounded badass. If I wanted to really be living that video game life, that was the move. But also, I might die. To be fair, I may already be dead - still not convinced on that front. Forge Miner? I'm actually a huge fan of digging holes, just not sure how useful that will be when I get back home. Home... Had the whole world become like a video game? Is it just me? Are there suddenly "large mythical beasts" roaming the planet? Is civilization dissolving into chaos at this very moment?
Nigel pulled me back to the present by clearing his throat. It sounded more like he was gagging, but I got what he was going for. The window disappeared as I opened my eyes, raising an eyebrow.
"Well," Nigel said, almost looking sheepish, "If it helps you make a decision, you level by doing class-specific tasks. If you're a fighting class, you'll need to fight and kill to level up. If you're a trading class, you'll level by negotiating, bartering, forming trade agreements, you get the idea."
I nodded, closing my eyes again. Back to analysis.
Pathfinder sounded like an old-school map maker. Pretty sure the whole world is already mapped. And every phone has a GPS, so I'm not sure why anyone would need 'an innate sense of direction and the ability to navigate complex routes.' Rapid Responder could actually be really useful back home. Maybe get work as an EMT or a Doctor? Maybe even an athletic trainer for a professional sports team, how cool would that be!
"You know," Nigel interrupted - again. "I can't actually see any of your class options. Your thoughts in relation to classes are totally shielded from me. I'd be more than happy to provide some class-specific advice if it would help..." he trailed off.
I thought for a moment. This was a big decision. Like choosing a major in college but you can't ever change your mind. Right?
"Can classes be changed?" I asked. "Not upgraded, but what if I change my mind and would rather do something else?"
Nigel hesitated for a moment. "Nothing about a class prevents you from doing other things. You'll always be free to do as you like. The class only dictates how you level and what "Skills" you develop. You can still learn things and gain new skills as you would've before today. That being said, there are ways to remove a class... but let's just say they are... unpleasant." He finished with a grimace.
I asked another question that was scratching at the back of my mind. "Why would anyone choose the Pathfinder class?"
Nigel's eyes lit up as I named the class option. Just for a moment, but I caught it. He smoothed his features as I recited the description and voiced my doubts about its usefulness.
"The world is... less mapped than one might assume. Especially now. It's not an easy thing to explain, but that is a very useful class. Finding one's way is a challenge most will be unprepared for in this new world."
That response raised a whole list of new questions, but before I could ask I was interrupted. Something that was becoming infuriatingly common.
"Did you get another class option?" The fox asked, seemingly already knowing the answer.
"My first option is actually Beast Hunter, and - "
"Ah, as expected. An excellent class given the situation. That settles it. Go ahead then, become a mighty Beast Hunter!" Nigel nodded as he spoke, as if the matter was settled.
"But I - "
"You'd rather be a Pathfinder? Well, who am I to argue with that. An excellent choice. But only if you're sure." A smug smile played across Nigel's face with this.
"No, I - "
This time I wasn't interrupted by Nigel, but rather by an ear-splitting roar and an earthquake.
We all turned to face the sound, and were met with a sight even more ridiculous than it sounds.
A fucking bull moose, the size of a small house, charging up the mountain and shattering trees like sugar glass. Its antlers were at least 15 feet from end to end, and it stood even taller than that. Not that it was standing, it was fucking barreling towards us like pissed-off moose-shaped freight train.
"Beast Hunter, NOW!!" Nigel yelled, leaping to his feet and taking a few steps back. He glanced nervously between me and the rapidly approaching mountain of rage, and hurriedly gestured at his eyes with a paw.
Got it.
I closed my eyes, immediately summoning the class selection window.
YOU HAVE (4) STARTER CLASS OPTIONS AVAILABLE:
(1) Beast Hunter: Expert in using spears for hunting large or mythical beasts, often incorporating traps and tracking skills.
(2) Forge Miner: A class that combines mining with blacksmithing, able to mine ores and immediately craft them into weapons or armor.
(3) Pathfinder: Skilled in charting courses and discovering shortcuts, with an innate sense of direction and the ability to navigate complex routes.
(4) Rapid Responder: A first-aid or support class that uses speed to reach and assist allies in need quickly.
I mentally selected option (1) Beast Hunter and pushed.
YOU HAVE SELECTED A NEW CLASS:
BATTLE MINER
Congratulations on selecting your starter class!
You will now receive a set of essential starter items tailored to your chosen class.
These items are designed to complement your class's abilities
and provide you with the foundational tools needed to embark on your journey.
Good Luck.
I opened my eyes in a panic. Battle Miner?! That wasn't even an option! What the fuck just happened?!
I looked to Nigel, whose smug smile over sharp teeth told me all I needed to know.
The smugness melted right off his face and transformed to a look of abject horror as an enormous pickaxe materialized in my hand.
Both Nigel and I finally unfroze as Artie tore between us at a dead sprint back up the mountain.
"Leg it, ye daft slaters!" He yelled over his shoulder.
And leg it we fucking did.