As the sun slowly began to disappear into the horizon two pairs of identical painted hands parted a tangle of greenery.
“Cassowary,” they both whispered together and pointed.
The monstrous bird was standing on a small stretch of sand next to a brilliant blue ocean. With a massive black feathered body, long scaled feet with talons the size of paring knives, and a bright red wattle dangling low against its chest. It was the very image of dangerous lunacy; Australia at its most lethally ridiculous.
The broad sail on its head that looked like it had been made out of used chewing gum didn’t help its case to be taken seriously. Although the 50 hovering over its head certainly did.
Big bird had to be the super-boss of the Australian AoD habitat. The ultimate kill for any monster-hunter.
It in no way resembled the cute fluff ball drooling obliviously on my tabard.
The cassowary suddenly dropped its head and emitted a resonant boom-rattle call that I felt in my very bones. A sub-sonic vibration designed to be heard over long distances. I devoutly hoped it wasn’t a sign it had seen us.
Then Gunga abruptly woke up.
Hommm-eep!
Shit.
The cassowary’s head lifted, and it focused unerringly on our hiding place.
I saw the twins’ eyes widen synchronously and knew no help would be forthcoming from that quarter. Luckily, it proved to be unneeded.
Rattttle-ah, ratttttle-ah.
Around a bend in the coastline walked our saviour—though it wasn’t an obvious one. Another cassowary, noticeably smaller than the dinosaur in front of us. It stepped slowly, diffidently; a suitor unsure of his welcome.
He instantly redirected Dino bird’s attention, and the NPC warriors used the moment to tug me backwards, into the forest.
We crept for the next five minutes, until the twins were satisfied we’d covered enough distance to be out of danger.
“Cassowary queen big, big mama bird. Big territory. Many mates.” Both pairs of lips twisted disturbingly into an earthy leer. “But take best tribe fishing spot. Too strong to fight. Many warriors die in battle.”
Quest Offered: Get Rid of the Cassowary!
Reward: 4000 exp pts!
Reward: Hero Status Reputation with the Australian Aboriginal People!
Reward: Answer to any Age of Deception lore query!
Reward: Legendary Artifact!
Warning: Advanced Challenge! Not Recommended for Players Under Level 45! Don’t Be a Fool, closedwhisper!
Well, there was the expected quest line, but…closedwhisper? That was my online handle, yet the prompts shouldn’t be addressing me directly. Was the AI trying to communicate?
“Hello? Can you hear me?”
The warrior twins both blinked together. It was getting kinda creepy. “Of course we hear you.”
“Are you connected to the AI running this game?” I asked impulsively.
And just like that, my tour guides to the outback vanished.
I should’ve known. AoD punished players if they stepped out of character by referring to the system as a virtual world.
Gunga and I would have to go it alone.
Luckily, the compass set on my vision’s dashboard would keep us from getting lost. However, as the world map was accessed through the unavailable system menu I would have to rely on my memory and a bit of luck to guide us.
Now I just needed a place to head to.
The portals had the potential to provide me access to other games, though that seemed to be a one-trick pony. I’d tried to go back to the toon world directly after I’d been spat out into the outback and had no response, travelling back and forth uneventfully.
A barrier-wall at a different location might send me to another game—or send me into virtual nothingness. But what other choice did I have? Despite the risk, it stacked up favourably against the certainty of death if I did nothing.
Now, which location should I head for?
I hadn’t actually done much exploring in the AoD world, preferring to use it as a means of atmospheric relaxation rather than conquest.
Though I had been adventurous enough to spend a brief stint in Fiji, before I realised that Headman really did mean Head-man over there. So much for my expectation of basking in the sun with a piña colada. As it is, I barely escaped the cooking pot.
Indonesia had likewise been a complete bust, though a very nice player did offer to sell me a lovely palace for the low-low price of…. I forget how much. I returned home after that. (The power bill for that month had been ridiculous.)
I needed to head some place temperate, with minimal risk of decapitation. Somewhere northerly obviously, as I had no desire to visit Antarctica, no matter how cute the penguins were.
The next closest large biosphere was South America, I guessed, struggling with my mental map recall. Probably almost as dangerous as Australia, but if I could activate the portal-within-a-portal again maybe I could contact the outside world. Perhaps even speak to an actual living adult.
But the journey would have to wait a little longer. After spending god knows how many hours awake my brain was beginning to flag, demanding sleep.
I would have to tie my hammock to some high trees and hope to survive the night.
——
The morning did not begin auspiciously.
I opened my eyes, blearily expecting to see the walls of my flat, and instead found myself eyeball to multiple eyeball with a spider of the genus Bigmotherfuckerus.
It covered much of my pelvis and seemed quite content to snuggle; luxuriating in my body heat I supposed. Probably planned to make itself at home and raise its two point five million kids.
As if thinking made it so, I spotted a multitude of miniature versions clustered on my arms and legs.
My stomach dropped.
Fuck. Me.
And the horrors continued. That looky-loo had highlighted a decoration I hadn’t noticed in the darkness when I made camp. Beside my hammock, close to my right shoulder, an enormous web sack hung, gleaming brightly in the early morning light, and studded with many, many, tiny arachnids.
I had nested in a nest. Of giant spiders.
Now this, this is why I didn’t like these types of games. In what universe could this be considered okay? I didn’t even have one of those handy-dandy Galadriel crystals to flash. Or a big-ass can of Raid. Absolutely nothing to defend—
Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.
Active Skill: Lullaby Lyrics Awarded!
Wake up, you idiot!
Whaa…? Never mind. Think about that later.
“Hush little babies, don’t say a wooord,”
The babies started to move and I had to repress the urge to trail off into a scream.
“Daddy’s gonna buy you a mockingbiird,”
This time mama Bigmotherfuckerus (lvl 18) adjusted herself, and I’m quite sure the recycling unit in my stasis suit was immediately supplied with a fresh supply of liquid.
“And if that mockingbird won’t sinnng.”
Collectively, the spiders raised their front legs and—
“Papa’s gonna buy you a diamond ring.”
—began to sway.
Are they dancing?
I continued the song, with a growing feeling of hope. Eventually, they scuttled off me entirely, vanishing into their webbing, and I lost no time in removing myself from my hammock, no problem at all (amazing what a little adrenaline will do for your co-ordination). I abandoned my bed with nary a backward glance, only concerned with getting the fuck away from my webby tomb.
I was just grateful Gunga hadn’t woken up. He’d probably have gleefully tried to eat them all, and, much as I admired his appetite, I don’t think he’d have survived to digest his meal.
He was getting noticeably bigger, though. His head now rested on my shoulder rather than inside the carrier and the jersey was stretched to breaking point.
And he was substantially heavier.
I dumped the free-loader onto the ground, much to his disgruntlement.
“Time to make your own way in the world, Gunga-Din.”
He warble-boomed at me but got distracted by a pile of fruit and ran off to consume them. All of them.
Trusting him to catch up when the bond line reached the end of its tether, I ditched the stretched and stained jersey, restowed the feeder cup, and kept walking.
Thankfully, the barrier-wall to the South American habitat proved to be close by. I couldn’t wait to get out of this place.
But when I arrived at the barrier, I wasn’t so keen to leave. Instead of clear sparkling water, the liquid appeared red, a red so dark it looked like…fresh blood.
Now that’s not foreboding at all. Nosiree.
Maybe I was just being paranoid. It could just as well be raspberry juice or some other sweet, innocuous liquid. If the waterfall was brown I would probably pessimistically assume a quite different scenario to the Wonkaland I might end up in.
I could portal into…into… What was a friendly game that might have sweet red stuff? I couldn’t think of any. The human psyche didn’t run toward making fluffy games for adults—it tended more toward blood, death and gore.
The odds are not in my favour.
The best I could hope for was a world similar to this one, except, well…inhabited and working. Regardless, I would at least be heading toward people that could potentially help, and time—as my little stasis health bar would tell me if it could speak—was limited.
This time I didn’t even try the poke test, I really didn’t want to know. And I was about to find out the hard way anyway.
Again divesting myself of metal and synthetics, I stepped forward.
——
I transitioned into complete darkness. I don’t mean darkness with faint silhouettes of things around you. I mean, pitch—‘my-eyeballs-must-have-been-stolen’—blackness. I had no orientation other than the mechanics of gravity, and even outer space would have had twinkly stars to make me feel less sense deprived.
A rustle to my left set off all my most primitive fears in one handy-dandy package. At least the spiders had been visible. The snake hadn’t, but I’d known what it was by its unmistakable hiss.
This was a situation in which I had no knowledge of what was surrounding me—
An evil titter nearby.
—or who.
Well, at least that gave me a baseline species: Human. Unfortunately, they were so confident that they’d obviously decided it wasn’t worth the extra effort to be quiet. Which meant that they could probably see in the dark.
Only one humanoid species that I know—mythical or otherwise—of lives in complete darkness.
A vampire.
“Hello? I don’t mean to interrupt your evil role-playing, but seriously, I’m in dire trouble—“
“You zertainly are,” a voice spoke dramatically. And was that a…a Transylvannian accent perchance?
I couldn’t help it, I began to giggle. It was so hammy it struck my sense of the ridiculous.
“So you vant to drink my bluud?”
“I will if you’d just stop bloody laughing,” the voice swore petulantly, accent changing into something more suited to an English drawing room. A small foot stomped against stone.
This just turned my nervous giggle into full-blown laughter. It was all so ridiculous. All that fear, for what? A spoiled deb prancing about in a cape with fake fangs?
Or not so fake.
The virtual world is a place of wonders. Paraplegics can walk, the blind can see, and…vampire lovers can grow real fangs.
But even when the blood trickled down my throat I couldn’t for the life of me stop laughing. My life was quite literally on the line and I was being an hysterical ninny.
“Before,” gasp “before you do that, vould you like to see my donor’s card?” A peal of obnoxious, snorty laughter escaped me. “A bit of O Positive for a good night out?”
The fangs retreated. “I refuse to continue this farce.”
“Wait!” I screamed, seeing my chance flying away. Maybe as a bat. Snigger. “Arline Johnson. Age of Deception. Help get me out!”
A breath of wind, and the voice began to retreat. “Go fuck youself!”
And back I went.
——
On the other side of the barrier, I slapped my head into my hands and screamed in frustration.
I’d had the ideal chance of recruiting an ally, and I’d blown it. From being a juvenile ass. Who cared if I thought vampire role-playing ridiculous? I was sitting in a tabard with a goddamned lyre strapped to my back; I was in no position to mock. I’d just needed to contain myself for two minutes! Two minutes! and I could have persuaded the no doubt lovely, friendly vampire lady to my cause. I could have been safe!
I spent far too long castigating myself before I realised something was missing. And it didn’t take me long to figure out what. Or rather, who.
“Gunga?”
I consulted my bondmate compass, hoping he’d made it through the barrier.
The blip pointed resolutely in the direction of Australia.
‘GUNGAAA!” I called at the barrier, hoping he’d hear and come through. No such luck.
I pulled out a parcel of snake meat. “Guuungaa-Dinnn.”But not even food bribery could persuade my friend to appear. I had lost my sidekick.
I wasn’t expecting it to hit me so hard. He was only a piece of code after all. But he’d been my only companion throughout this entire experience and I’d given him all the care and love at my disposal. He was an idiot, but he was mine.
And there was no one else I could trust in this world. With no other players to create a Party, and no one else for the game to focus on, any monsters or NPCs would naturally focus their attentions on the only player remaining—with all the weapons, natural and constructed, at their disposal. I needed a friend. Or at the very least a virtual teddy-bear.
“Gunga,” I whispered, my heart breaking.
I took out my lyre, and without any intention of using my musical Skills, strummed a D minor, the saddest note of all.
Bondmate retrieval key: Set!
A big white bird suddenly came running lickety-split through the barrier, bypassing me by centimetres and running straight into a bush. Its large, untidy wings fluffed out and shivered as it struggled to untangle itself. Without success.
A long, white neck rose from the crash site and its light blue eyes found mine.
“Gunga?”
He struggled again to get free, but despite what appeared to be a radical transformation, I already knew.
Gunga had found me.
I hurried to help free him, and couldn’t help examining the changes with curiosity. Baby bird had gotten bigger—a lot bigger—and judging by his less than stellar but still impressive entrance, faster, if not more agile. Mind you, if I’d suddenly sprouted big fuck-off wings and legs that wouldn’t have been out of place on a Sesame Street character I doubted I would perform much better.
I finally managed to get him upright. His head was even with my shoulder, and he had a similar build to an ostrich, but smaller and prettier, like a swan-ostrich hybrid. Nothing like a moa or a cassowary.
“I was getting worried.”
Gunga fluffed up his wings guiltily.
“You were stuffing your face again, weren’t you?”
He leaned down and gently nibble-pecked my chin.
“I’m sorry, too,” I apologised, and gave his neck a hug. “We should have gone through the barrier together. I promise I won’t forget next time. But you stay close, okay?”
He laid his soft head against my temple and I felt his big eyelashes brush against my skin.
Apology accepted.
——
We made good time through the South American habitat and for the first few hours went remarkably undisturbed. The few animals I did see seemed to be avoiding us—a fact that relieved me immensely. The anteaters, llama, and foxes I figured I had a chance at scaring off. But the puma and jaguar…I didn’t want to try my luck with. Especially not if they’d been packed full of extra programming goodness as I suspected they had.
All was well, until we came over a rise and spotted a man.
He didn’t appear hostile, although he did have a weapon—or an oar; it was difficult to tell. The mystery object was a big flat paddle with black bits sticking out around the edges. Odd, but as the guy was sitting and wasn’t actively waving it in my direction I could roll with it.
Judging by his lack of clothes (tiny strip of cloth that barely protected his modesty, and round necklace that did absolutely nothing to protect his very bare, impressive chest), and of course, his very existence, I was guessing he was the one of the native NPCs of this region.
He was staring at his feet and seemed…sad?
“Ganidhru theivk enali enola deif,” he said solemnly.
Oh fuck me sideways. What fresh hell was this?
“Kejj kispss eijgk fek.” He raised his hand into the sky, appeared to grab the sun by clenching it into a fist, then dashed the fist hard into his other hand.
No clue what that meant, but he clearly had an agenda.
He stood suddenly, his paddle up and waving, and dramatically bellowed into the sky: “Fjie haieo jios tjieo ksnk iwit sowi?”
I backed away from the abrupt movement and held up my hands placatingly. “Okay, dude. Whatever you say. We’ll totally find your boat, or llama, or whatever.”
Challenge of Umrut Accepted!
Are You trying to get yourself killed?
You will have 5 hours to complete Amrut’s Dungeon!
2 Bonus pts to Courage stat!
Reward for Completion: Gameplay Streaming Rights!
Reward for Survival: 2000 XP!
Okay, this was a pickle. But a pickle that could be my salvation. Bugger the experience points; streaming could be my answer to contacting the outside world!
I’d never actually been in a Dungeon before, and it didn’t exactly sound safe. But surely it couldn’t be as bad as the outback…could it?