All of a sudden, I realised the awful, biting wind was gone and my hoarse, yelling voice was echoing back to me. Cautiously opening one eye, I regarded a broad circular chamber carved from deep orange bedrock. The ceiling was covered with intricate carvings of figures and strange beasts, lit by flickering braziers which cast dancing shadows. The air smelt thickly of incense.

Opening both eyes, I found myself lying on a large metal disc, hot to the touch. Not lying — sprawled. Or rather, pinned. My wrists and ankles were bound with iron manacles. I tugged but couldn’t move a quarter-inch.

“Hello? Is this normal?”

No response. As my eyes adjusted, I saw that a dozen towering, hooded figures leered over me, nothing but darkness and shadows. Guttural chanting in some alien tongue started pouring from their cracked, grey lips. Their voices melded together and echoed off the walls as if the mountain itself participated in the ritual.

“SYS!” I tried shouting. Regardless of everything I knew about the New Worlds, I still groped around for an off switch. “System! This is a mistake! I think you put me in the wrong room!”

One of the figures leant its head down and I saw cruel points of light crackling from within dark, empty black eye sockets. Dust sprinkled from its cheeks and chin as a wide smile split across its face. Its voice was sharp and grating like teeth on a grindstone.

“Oh no, Talbot. For the first time in your life — you’re in the right place.”

It knows my name! I screamed again, and kept screaming.

One of them produced a long, thin, curved knife and stepped in one movement easily up high onto the disc, beside me. As it stepped up the four or so feet from the ground, its robes — the colour of dried blood — shifted and revealed a thin, grey leg that appeared to be nothing more than skin and bone. It stepped over me and raised the knife high.

“Wait, wait, I meant the Roost village!”

The chanting reached a crescendo and in a flash of unnatural speed, the figure plunged the knife down. I flinched my eyes closed and waited for the pain.

What a short-lived adventure! As I bled to death in that ritual chamber, I found myself longing for the life I’d left. I probably should have just caught the sky-bus to the job centre. My life-blood ran out. My chest grew cold.

Oblivion took me.

Only kidding — a sharp ring sang out and the chanting stopped. The room fell to a heady silence. I felt my hands and feet come free from the manacles and through bleary eyes saw the figure climb down off the disc. The knife was plunged into the metal beside my head.

“We have summoned him — chosen to be a Warrior, it seems,” it spoke in a tortured rasp like grinding salt, unsettlingly high-pitched. “He will be a fine meal for Kadesh.”

The rest touched their hands to their throat and whispered in unison, “By Kadesh’s Dour Trachea.”

Then, in a line, they slowly filed out of the chamber. As they moved, their dry, bony feet under their long robes made an odd, dull staccato thud against the bedrock. I lay blinking on the disc for a little while. Quite a long while, actually. Welcome to Barbican.

At long, long last, I dragged myself up off the disc. Jelly-legged but surprisingly unsoiled, I found my Bronze Spear, Wooden Shield and bandoleer at the side of the chamber. Breath and sanity slowly returning, I took a couple of minutes to get used to my body — I found I was actually about the same height, but choosing the Warrior class must have straightened my back, which had been hunched over from four years of long workdays (and nights, and weekends) sat at a desk.

I tried to test what Strength and Dexterity meant first, doing a little jog around the ritual chamber and jumping up and down on the disc, but honestly didn’t learn much. I found misplacing a step was almost impossible without serious lack of attention, but I decided I would learn much more when it came to properly exerting myself.

Then I had about a minute that I’m less proud of. For Constitution I (and I don’t recommend this) slapped myself hard in the face. . . . I almost fell over. Didn’t account for the higher Strength there. . . . And how to test Mind? I thought of a few maths questions in my head, and some programming problems. Couldn’t tell any difference. Felt dumb doing it.

Then I followed the figures towards the door. Before I pushed it open, I hyped myself up a bit — pounded my chest, did a few star-jumps.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Okay, here goes!

The heavy splintered wooden door creaked open. As I stood in the threshold, the small bronze orb appeared with a loud buzzing noise. I yelped and jumped back, but it followed me as I did.

// SYS : Ohhh, fear has become material within the city of Ur-Kadesh, the City of the Bloodied Throat! Be cautious as you venture through its sprawling expanse, for it is said its vast network of tunnels, halls and open caverns twist endlessly through the mountain and into the depths of the Abyss itself. See the massive columns of dark stone, carved to resemble the throats of colossal beasts, all dripping with a viscous, crimson liquid into large stone troughs, far below. See to your left and right the narrow, winding roads, illuminated only by the glowing veins of molten bronze flowing through the walls, which pulse like the lifeblood of the city itself! See how its forge fires burn in the ever-night along the path, where the rhythmic clang of metal is eternal, a horrible clamour that has only the low hum of subterranean wind for its companion. See above how the towering bronze gates that lead out of the city can be glimpsed through gaps in the cavern walls, but oh — how impossibly far away they seem! See how — //

“You’re listening to the Ur-Kadesh intro, right?”

A barrel-chested man in his forties stepped heavily towards me, his blackened armour clinking with every movement. A long line of trinkets, or trophies, hung from a rope around his neck — long fangs, sharp, thin claws, broken arrows, and more than a couple human-looking ears; though one orange, one blue. He held out a massive hand, a roadmap of scars. I shouldered my shield and shook it, instinctively. Four years of office life at the MegaCorp was hard to shake.

“I’m Yorrick. Is this your first time here?”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “I only decided to go to a New World last night.”

He did a double-take, and his face split in a slow, mocking grin.

“Must be a bit of a masochist to choose Barbican for your first World.”

I had literally just chosen the one that sounded the coolest.

“Trust me, I gave it a serious amount of thought,” my mouth produced the bare-faced lie easily — another skill I’d picked up from office life.

“And did you give Ur-Kadesh much thought? I didn’t even know this was a starting location. I guess the System is getting pretty sadistic these days. There’s not an Earth Gate for a hundred miles, and that one’s guarded by a demon.”

Uh. . . .

Now that one had been a mistake.

“Yes, thank you, I can handle anything Ur-Kadesh has to offer. Just want to get myself a greatsword and I’ll head out. What’s the best place for— What?”

Yorrick’s face screwed up, turning red, eyebrows pushed in, his lips pursed. He barked out a burst of laughter. He put on an awful North English accent.

“You know nothing, John Snow.”

Ah, a fan of the classics. . . .

I rolled my eyes.

“You’re not gonna be able to wield even a Bronze Greatsword until you hit Level 10. Did you really not read up on Barbican at all? . . . Maybe I should stick around, new players always drop cool loot when they die! Listen here. You’re fresh meat. Guess you’ve been dreaming of glory, gold, and maybe a tavern wench or two, haven’t you?”

He’d gotten two of those correct, though I won’t admit which two (it was the two tavern wenches). I turned my head away and had a better look around. There were wide, cavern-floor streets — the place was indeed set out like a grand city, with walkways and large raw stone bridges connecting large built-up areas, but the amount of people made it feel more like a ghost town.

Peering around, I saw only one real group of people that stood out — other people from Earth, I imagined. One with dark skin stood tallest in bronze scale armour, wearing a tall feathered headdress, another was short and broad — stout, you might say — with a big beard, bearing an axe on their back, another had — I had to double-take — a bright green velvet tunic, a bow over one shoulder, and poking out from his flowing golden hair were a pair of long, pointed ears!

“Newsflash, kiddo,” Yorrick continued. Irritated, I stole my eyes away from the cool group. “You’ll be lucky if you don’t piss yourself the first time a warg takes a bite out of your leg.”

“I’m not your kiddo — the name’s Talbot. Just tell me where the exit is,” I said, dead-eyed.

Yorrick performatively wiped a final tear from his eye and pointed towards a line of columns. I walked off without a word.

“Don’t worry, you’ll learn fast — or you’ll learn dead!” He called after me. Doesn’t even make sense. I glanced around to find the group, but they’d disappeared. “Name’s Yorrick, remember. You need someone to save your arse, you know where to find me. Just don’t expect me to coddle you like your mum.”

Something made me stop. Maybe it was the oath I made to myself the night before about turning over a new leaf. Maybe it was the near-death experience I’d just suffered. Or maybe it was the Special I’d got as a Warrior, [Berserk]? Who knew how fundamentally the Gate changed whoever stepped through it? I certainly didn’t. I spat over my shoulder.

“If I see you outside these walls,” I turned and pointed my spear at him, “It won’t be me who needs saving.”

He was taken aback, slack-jawed. I didn’t wait for him to react, or possibly beat me to death, and instead took up a jog towards the exit.

Either side of me, the columns stretched impossibly high, vanishing into the shadowy ceiling above. At a steady pace, with my spear as a walking stick, I made upwards. The air grew colder and thinner as I passed up the steep, snaking path, and the sounds of the city — distant forges, hushed voices — began to fade, until I heard only the soft echo of my own footsteps.

I realised keeping up a quick pace was easy, and before I knew it, I was at the final row of columns, a mile or more up the paths, far from the foul-feeling people of Ur-Kadesh. Beyond, a faint, eerie light spilled in from between the enormous bronze gates.