The blinding whiteness faded, slowing going from overwhelmingly overpowering to less and less, finally allowing the world around her to come into focus. Trees surrounded her, branches weaving to and fro with the breeze that existed up at their level, far above her head. She was standing on a forest floor, and she felt the presence of some sort of footwear first, as feeling started at her toes and raced up her body, tickling the most senstive parts first. She felt her clothes in succession, from her sandals, to her leggings (felt like leather), to the belt around her waist and the itchiness of her shirt on her breasts and arms. It ended at her face, with the sensitive skin acknowledging the slight breeze and her nose the smell of plants.

It was an unfamiliar smell, as she had never been interested in gardening, and she had certainly never been on a farm. The sounds were unfamiliar too: bird calls of unfamiliar types, droning of insects, and the rustling of foliage as small animals fled from her sudden appearance. For a few minutes, she just looked around and marveled, and realized that for a brief minute she had totally forgotten that she was inside a computer simulation, a virtual world.

“Wow,” was the only thing she could vocalize as her brain struggled to rationalize everything that was in front of her. She noticed a small bundle laying on the ground, and pulled it to her. Sitting on a nearby log, she opened the bag and immediately a screen popped up out of nowhere to center itself in her vision:

Welcome to Olympus Online. As part of your starting equipment, a set of primitive weapons and equipment has been provided to you. Enjoy!

“Annoyingly vague,” she muttered. As the notice disappeared, another screen showed itself, this time in a familiar grid pattern that showed 8 squares. Several had items in them, and she realized that the bag was in fact a bag of holding or whatever you called it. She reached out to touch the items, and the first highlighted. Immediately she was holding a small dagger.

Simple Bronze Dagger

Durability 20/20

Damage 2-4

Description - A small, simple dagger made of bronze.

Slightly better than a sharp stick.

After a few seconds, she realized that thinking the word “dismiss” caused the window to close. Another and the bag window closed. “Okay,” she said, still thinking out loud, “Thought based control over the notifications.” She opened the bag again and discovered a second dagger, identical to the first, in the bag, along with a canteen on a sling and some travel rations. A small slip of paper occupied the last filled slot and read “Starting gear version 2.” She tried the canteen - empty. She guessed she was supposed to find a source of water. The travel ration tasted like cardboard, and she spit out the bite she had taken. Wrapping it back up, she stashed it back in the bag. Slither snorted. If this was version 2, version 1 must have really sucked.

After dismissing the bag again, she figured out how to tuck the daggers into her belt where they would be reasonably secure and still not stab herself. She wasn’t sure if she could damage herself, but the thought of any kind of pain still made her shudder a bit. Slinging the bag, she started walking. It was hard going, as she had never had any experience walking through wild forest before. Each step seemed to sink into an inches-thick layer of dead leaves, sticks, and dirt. She tripped twice over tree roots that she just didn’t see prior to walking into them, and by trial and error she began to walk by picking up each foot and placing it straight down, rather than the shuffling foot-dragging gait she had always used. It took patience, and was much harder than simply walking as she normally did.

The lack of direction was frustrating, too. She had been simply plopped here in the middle of the woods with no instructions, no quest log, nothing. No guide or anyone to help her decide which direction to go in. As she walked, she kept saying different commands. “Quest log.” “Help.” “Exit game.” Nothing. No response, no display windows. Finally after a while one of her commands showed a response. “Character” and a sheet popped up, showing her fledgling stats and skills, of which she had none. No help there. She ignored the numbers and descriptions: too many games paid way too much attention to that crap. If it became important later, she’d look at it then.

By pure chance, she came across what seemed to be a trail going through the forest. It winded off through the trees, and as it was the first sign of any kind of structure, she decided to follow it. “Anything is better than slogging through the wild brush,” she thought. She walked for a while until she heard the sound of something coming down the trail towards her. Slither froze: she wasn’t mentally prepared for a confrontation, and whatever it was, it sounded good-sized. In front of her, the bushes on either side of the trail shook for a second, and then a small rabbit entered the trail and spotted Slither.

Both froze, staring at each other for any sign of threat. Slither knew that it was slightly ridiculous to be afraid of a bunny, but for some reason a scene from an old movie popped into her mind. She was dating a guy once who was a big fan of twentieth century comedy movies, and in this movie the characters had come across this killer bunny with red eyes and claws that killed them all. She had laughed at the time along with her boyfriend. This bunny seemed normal, no red eyes or claws, and as she shifted her weight it immediately bolted down the trail away from her. Slither was laughing with relief, “scared of a little bunny” was in her head when suddenly from the side of the trail ahead shot a blur of gray fur. The animal caught the rabbit and Slither heard a ‘crunch’ from the rabbit.

She froze again, and the animal turned around to stare at Slither. It was a wolf. She squinted at it, trying to see details, and above the wolf she saw the words “Forest Wolf - Level 3” appear. At the same time, another window popped up in her field of vision:

Skill unlocked - Analyze!

By squinting at an item or creature, you can see

details about it. Use often to see higher level items and creatures!

“Son of a bitch!” she yelled as the window blocked her view of the wolf. Frantically thinking “dismiss” the window disappeared to see the wolf in full charge at her. Its mouth was open, and its tongue was hanging out, drool dripping from the wolf’s muzzle. Before she could move, the wolf was on her and she felt the jaws closing around her throat as it rode her to the ground. In her astonishment, she barely felt any pain before her vision went black.

She came to in the forest, and she realized that she was in the same place that she had first spawned into the world. She was wearing the same clothes, but her bag and weapons where gone. Another damned window popped up:

Congratulations on your first Death! As an Avater, you will respawn

At your last spawn point!

All gained XP and skill points for your current level have been lost!

XP lost - 0. Current XP 0/100

Skills lost - Analyze.

Equipment lost - bag, bronze dagger (2)

Lost items can be retrieved from the location of your death.

Angrily, she dismissed the window. Some things were becoming clear: she could die, and would re-spawn. That was good. The rumors of one life in Olympus Online seemed to be false, which made sense. Lots of people would be unprepared for this world (as she was) and would die early (as she did). And she kept her clothes, so she wouldn’t wake up naked. Also good. The fact that she had to run back to her body to get her stuff back, not so good. “An old fashioned corpse run - fantastic” she thought.

“Well, nothing for it.” Strangely, she wasn’t that upset. The mental shock of getting mauled to death by a wolf was not as bad as she was expecting, and she could review the memory of it without getting hysterical. She also didn’t remember any pain from the experience - could the implant be blocking these feelings of shock and pain? If so, Slither was all for it. “Screw that much realism,” she thought.

She followed her own trail through the woods and quickly found the game trail that she had died on. Slowly creeping down the trail, she got yet another damn window that told her she had gotten the skill “Stealth.” Smiling, she said softly “Now that will be useful” and continued until she found her body. It was still lying there, throat ripped out, and she swallowed as she looked at the damage the wolf had done to her dead body. Thankfully, the wolf hadn’t stuck around for a snack afterwards and had apparently departed. She approached and retrieved her items: bag was slung on her back and rather than tuck her daggers into her belt again she held them in her hands. Better to be prepared next time. Squinting at one of them, she got the “Analyze” skill back as well. As she took her equipment from her corpse, it disappeared. Good. That had been pretty creepy, looking at her own dead body.

With no other option that she could see, she began walking down the game trail again, holding her daggers at the ready and walking slowly, trying to maintain stealth. The trail eventually after several wanderings back and forth opened up and turned sharply left next to a small stream. She had heard the sound of the water for several minutes prior to encountering it. Eying the water, she realized that it had been several hours total in the game and she was feeling thirsty. Kneeling beside the water, she kept an eye on the surrounding area while she dipped and filled the canteen. She wasn’t familiar with this type of container - it was basically just a leather bag with a small, carved bone nozzle on one end with a small cork attached to a leather thong. It was tightly stitched, and as it didn’t leak when she held it up, apparently watertight. One thing she noticed was the coldness of the water; as she filled the bag by dipping the open end under the water, the icy tingle entered her hands and stayed there for a few seconds. All of it felt absolutely real, as if she was really there and performing this task. In the real world she had never been in this situation, so she had no personal experience, but the realism felt amazing.

Tipping the bag back and taking a drink, the water flooded into her mouth, icy liquid numbing her teeth she began swallowing, drinking half the bag before she felt her thirst quenched. “Ahh” she exclaimed. It was easily the best tasting water she’d ever drank; cool and refreshing. She filled the bag again, corked it tightly, and then stashed it back into her bag. Quenching her thirst made her think about food, and she felt a bit of tightness in her belly. “So I have to eat and drink here. I wonder what would happen if I didn’t.” She realized that she was indeed feeling hungry and took out some of the travel rations that she had been given. Eating it was still terrible, but washing each bite down with the water helped a bit.

As she ate, she began to relax. The scenery was eye-catching: through the break in the trees around the stream she could see the blue sky and some mountains in the distance. The sound of the water burbling was relaxing and helped her to take stock of everything that had happened to her so far in Olympus Online. Despite all of the hardship, she was still excited about being there, which was a bit odd to her. Normally this type of experience held everything that she despised: pain, lack of modern conveniences, her phone and internet connections to her friends missing. She realized that she hadn’t even thought about her friends in hours: very odd. Maybe the game was manipulating her into feeling that way? It would make sense. If the game could mute her panic and stress over dying horribly to a wolf attack, could it also make her happy to play? If so, that was pretty insidious. She should be outraged at being manipulated, but the feelings just weren’t there. “More proof,” she said aloud. It was becoming a habit, stating her thoughts out loud, probably because she had yet to meet anyone else to talk to. The sound of a voice, even her own, was comforting.

After a time spent relaxing by the brook, another window popped up.

You have achieved Rested status.

Actions that use Stamina will now use 10% less for the next hour.

Dismissing it was almost automatic now, until the words impacted her relaxed brain. Stamina? How could she see that? She began experimenting with different commands, until the “Show Stamina” worked and she suddenly saw two bars in her field of vision in the upper left. The top one was red, the bottom yellow. Concentrating she could see values superimposed on them: “HP” on the red bar and “Stam” on the yellow. More things becoming clear: her health and stamina were represented by those bars, and she assumed that performing actions would use stamina. HP was pretty self explanatory.

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Feeling a bit more confident that she was starting to figure this world out, she considered her next moves. The game trail led off alongside the water, and it was pretty obvious that she should continue to follow this path. “Eventually I have to run into someone” she said. Normally hours without talking to someone would leave her painfully bored, but other than the minor irritation she felt at being dropped into empty woods, she was fine.

Deciding to follow the trail, she resumed walking slowly down the trail, continuing to stay in Stealth as she went. Notifications popped up every so often to confirm that her use of Stealth was increasing her skill, but it was pretty paltry: each level in stealth only added 1% to her ability to remain undetected. Still, eventually it would level up to where it made a big difference. As she walked, she listened to the sound of the water flowing and the wildlife, mostly birds, chirping. Her nervousness at running into another wolf gradually faded along with the immediate memory of that first disastrous encounter. After an hour, she saw in the distance what looked like a bridge over the water. Excitement flooded her brain again, her breathing speeding up and she felt a bit of adrenaline along with it. “About time,” she said as she almost unconsciously sped up her pace. A bride meant a road; a road meant people.

As she approached, the details of the bridge came into focus. It was made of wood, with crudely sawn planks laid out cross-pattern alongside two massive tree trunks that had been felled across the water and shaved flat on the tops. Getting closer, she could see that wooden pegs had been forced through drilled holes in the ends of the planks into the logs, holding them in place. The bridge was about 10ft wide, and there were no handrails. A dirt road led to each end of the bridge on either side of the water, and obvious ruts were cut into the road as wide as a wagon body. From the appearance, the bridge had been there for years: there was significant weathering, and brush grew up to and around the ends of the logs, proving that it had been there long enough for plants to grow around it.

Once she was standing next to the left bank end of the bridge, she stopped and wondered which way to go. On her side of the creek, the road extended into the forest and from what she could see slightly downhill. Indeed, the water seemed to curve in that direction downstream and it would make sense to go that way. She remembered a dim history lesson from some class she had taken as a girl that indicated human settlements throughout history had grown up around water, and usually where the water met the sea or lakes. The other direction, across the creek, the road headed straight into the wilds towards some hills and eventually mountains. Likely the road was a trade route, used primarily by merchant wagons, so eventually she would end up at some sort of settlement along the road. But which way would be faster?

Deciding that for better or worse she would rather walk downhill, she turned away from the bridge and began to walk along the road downhill. She walked quickly, not bothering to stay in Stealth as she had noticed that the light seemed to be dimming, and the temperature was dropping with it. The need to find shelter for the night began to take over as her first priority over finding other people. She definatly did not want to be stuck outside at night and be attacked as she slept. She didn’t even know if she had to sleep, but due to her thirst and hunger earlier she figured it was a good bet that she would need to. The road winded gently to and fro, mostly winding its way through the woods around giant trees that she figured was easier to go around rather than cut down.

As she rounded a bend, she smelled woodsmoke. Again, her experience with this was low but the burning wood was acrid and pleasant. In the distance, she saw the road split, with a short deviance ending at the front of a small hut. The walls were made of wood logs, with a roof of cut plants laid out in overlapping rows to keep the weather out. A crude opening was visible in the side of the roof, through which the smoke she smelled issued forth in a slow, lazy ribbon. Smoke leaked out from the thatch around the opening as well in small curls. The outside of the house was disheveled: a jumble of wood that was cut and split, but not stacked lay in the dirt in front of the hut. A small lean-to was built on the side of the hut, with a simple hide tacked on as a roof. A small dirty donkey was tethered inside the lean-to, munching on some cut grass and eying her distrustfully. It had spotted her as she came around the bend, but had not yet issued a challenge. From the smoke, Slither assumed that whoever owned the hut was home.

As she came closer, the donkey stopped chewing and raised its head, looking at her directly, but remained silent. Slither was not excited about the situation: the appearance of the hovel gave the impression that the owner cared little for appearances and was likely dirty himself (or herself). But there was little choice: the hut represented relative safety for the night, so she steeled herself and walked up to the door and gave it a sharp rap with her dagger hilt. “Who’s there,” came a low, growling voice from inside the hut.

“A simple traveler looking for a place to spend the night!” she called back. “This isn’t an inn - begone!” the voice called back, not opening the door. Shit, she thought. This was the only place she had seen for miles, and as little as she wanted anything to do with the owner of that voice, there was little choice. “I can pay for my stay!” she lied. She had nothing to offer, and hoped that it would be a reasonable price. Perhaps she could perform some task or quest for the owner.

The door opened and the voice’s owner stepped out. He was as dirty as his dwelling: short, wearing a stained long shirt that fell to his knees, belted with a length of rope. His heavily bearded face was creased with the sun, wrinkled and obviously mal-nourished. He was thin, and wore ragged sandals on his feet. Slither could barely keep her face straight: her first instinct was to sneer in disgust at the appearance of the hermit. The man held a length of firewood as a cudgel, and gripped it tightly as he started at her in surprise. Slither doubted that he got many visitors, and certainly few women.

Still, she figured, might as well try to be nice. “My name is…Slither” she said with a slight hesitation: she had nearly said Kaylie! “I need shelter for the evening. Perhaps we could work out a trade? I have my own food and water and will be no burden to you.” The man listened to her, but she could tell he was more interested in her form than her words. His eyes traveled up and down her body, lingering at the swell of her hips and finishing with a long stare at her chest. Slither’s disgust grew even further: if she was going to explore sex in Olympus, it certainly wouldn’t be with this…creature. His scent, that of an unwashed body mixed with smoke and something which undoubtedly included some form of dung (judging by the smell of the smoke) made her gag in her throat.

Lips pulling back over brown teeth, the man made an attempt to smile. “Well,” he growled, “Aktor doesn’t usually invite anyone into his home, but for you Aktor could make an exception.” His eyes roved unceasingly over her body, and after every few words he licked his lips, causing her revulsion to increase. His eyes narrowed, finally looking her in the eye. “She said she could pay?”

Figuring out that for some reason the man was referring to himself with the name Aktor, she replied, “Yes. I have no money, but if there is a task you need completed I would be willing to trade labor for a night’s shelter.” At her words, his face fell a bit. “No money?” he growled. He began backing up into his hut, hand on the door. “Then begone.” As he shut the door, she shot her foot out to stop it. Angrily Aktor looked up at her again (would he never stop looking at her tits?) and said again, “Begone! No money, no stay!”

She forced herself to remain calm. “Are you sure there is nothing I can do in exchange for a nights stay?” She hated the way it sounded, and by his face he of course assumed that which she was hoping he wouldn’t. An oily smile appeared on his face again, and with another lick of his lips he said “Trade? Maybe…” He opened the door wide and stepped back, inviting her inside with a wave. She stepped forward into the hut and looked around. On the wall under the chimney opening, she saw a low fire with a bronze pot hanging low over the fire. From the smell, Aktor was indeed using dung, presumably from his donkey outside, as fuel despite the fact that wood was plentiful in the pile outside. This display of laziness made her disgust grow broader, if that was possible.

Once inside, Aktor closed the door, blocking the dim glow of twilight and plunging the room into a smoky glow from the fire. There were no other sources of light. Near the fire was a pallet of dirty furs and blankets where Aktor presumably slept. There was no other furniture. Slither moved across the room and placed her pack on the ground against the far wall. She turned and looked at Aktor, who had moved to the center of the room and stood there looking at her, still clutching his length of wood in one hand. She forced a smile, and said “Thank you, I shall bed over here and in the morning I can perform a task for you as payment.”

Aktor smiled and said, “Aktor thinks pretty lady should perform task now.”

“What task?” she asked, mentally preparing. It was pretty obvious what he wanted, and she was hoping to avoid this. In her hand behind her back, she gripped her dagger, preparing for the worst.

Aktor simply pointed at her, then at the bed. “No,” she said. “No, I will not do that. I will perform some other service as payment.”

Aktor looked angry, pointing the wood cudgel at her face. “If no bed, no stay!” His words were short, clipped, as if he was unused to conversation with other people. He stepped towards her before shouting again, “No bed, no stay!” He went to grab her arm with his free hand, and as his hand closed upon her elbow her other arm came around her body in an arc, ending with the dagger buried in his chest.

Aktors eyes widened in shock: he had not expected her to fight, let alone be armed, and she saw the life dwindling from his eyes as he sank slowly down to first his knees, then his back. She kept a tight grip on the dagger’s hilt as she sank with him, blood pumping out around her hand. It was hot, and sticky. A stench invaded the room, even fouler than before if it could be believed. Aktor’s body tensed one last time, then went still. The cudgel, still grasped tightly in his right hand until his death, dropped to the floor and rolled softly against the wall.

Slither sat back, still staring at the body. She had killed someone! Only an NPC, but the realism struck her to her core. The body had even voided itself during death. This was far more realistic than any other game she had played. In those games, killing someone, player or NPC, simply caused them to die with no real evidence but the lack of motion afterwards. This…this was more. She felt justified at the act: Aktor was plainly going to try to force himself on her. And after all, he was only an NPC. Why should she feel any more guilt over it than she had at killing an orc or a goblin in a game? It was literally the same thing, it just felt more real.

Eventually she noticed a small notification blinking in her field of vision. Earlier she had managed to figure out how to disable the constant windows from popping up in her field of vision, as she didn’t really find the information that her stealth had gone from 1 to 2 that relevant. Focusing on the notification, a window opened:

XP +100

Congratulations! You have achieved level 2!

+2 Points in Agility. +2 Points in Stamina.

+1 points in all other stats!

Another:

+2 to Daggers Skill.

Slither dismissed the windows. So killing Aktor had given her XP and a level. She had also increased her dagger skill. She noticed her stamina bar had dipped as well during the fight, and was slowly refilling. She knew that she could open her status sheet and see the exact changes, but again the details behind her skills and character didn’t really interest her.

She rose and grabbed the hands of Aktor’s body. As she did, another damn window popped up, this time a question:

Loot? Y/N

She selected yes and a small window popped up, listing the equipment that Aktor was wearing:

Cloth Tunic - 1

Rope belt - 1

Leather sandals - 1

She closed the window - as she suspected, the hermit had nothing of value, and she wouldn’t wear any of his filthy clothes if she could help it. She grabbed his hands again and began to drag him outside, when the body disappeared in a small flash of light, leaving only the impression of his body in the dirt. “So after you loot, the body of an NPC will disappear” she said aloud. Good information to know. She examined the pallet of dirty furs, and decided that sleeping there would likely give her some kind of infection or bug infestation. Instead she settled on the floor where she had dropped her pack, after making sure that the door was barred against anything coming in unexpectedly. It was dark, and she decided to search the place in the morning once the sun was up.

Lying down to sleep, she found herself looking up at the ceiling. The thatch roof blocked the stars, but allowed the night sounds of the forest to penetrate, and the unfamiliar sounds kept her awake. As she stared, she examined her feelings again. Despite the realism, she felt no guilt about what she had done. Despite the obvious nature of Aktos, he was still what passed for a human being here, and she was a bit surprised at her neutrality about killing him. Was her feelings because he was simply a computer simulation? She decided that was probably it: the alternative, that she could kill without remorse, she tabled for a later day. As the glow from the coals faded, so did her consciousness, and she finally slept.