“Normally we’d just gear up in the staging area leading to the portal room,” Tony explained as we walked, “but inventory management is easier in the barracks.”
I stayed right on his heels as he weaved through clusters of players — some of them standing around chatting; others fast-stepping it to their next adventure, dripping in combat gear. The vast majority wore the familiar charcoal gray with glowing accents that denoted Ouroboros, but the occasional orange helmet or tiger-striped rifle told me which players had scored a rare Drop or purchased a custom skin.
Group sizes varied as much as the outfits. Plenty of players moved around in groups of two or three, but the hardcore clans were impossible to miss. They were hanging out in crowds of twenty or more, mostly decked out in fancy rare Drops and limited edition skins. They had what Tony, Jim, and I called the “chiropractor look” — always turning heads.
When we finally reached the barracks — one of the chunky buildings in the center of the Hub’s domed circle — we entered through a wide, automatic door into a fairly plain hallway.
A few paces down, Tony sidled up to a smaller door and waved his hand over the security terminal inset in the wall beside it. After a few flashing lights and beeps, it whooshed open, and Tony led me inside.
“This is our private quarters,” Tony said, holding up his arms like a tour guide.
It was like stepping into a small cabin in some kind of weird sci-fi summer camp. The room had two military-style bunks on either side, with four tall lockers taking up the entire wall between them. Aside from a tiny desk with a powered-down terminal of some kind, there wasn’t room for other furniture.
There was wall space above the desk, but Tony and Jim had already gone to work filling that up with framed medals, posters, and screengrab photographs of various off-world locations.
“Damn,” I said, reading the plaque beneath the closest hanging medal, “you guys have been busy.” The plaque read: ‘100 KILLS IN A SINGLE RAID - AWARDED TO CAPN_JIM’
Tony chuckled. “Don’t be too impressed. These are all low-level achievements. I prefer the posters, actually. We get them as Special Assignment bonus rewards sometimes.”
My eyes moved to a colorful poster stylized after an old travel ad. It said: ‘VISIT SUNNY BK-236!’ with a blocky rendition of a mushroom cloud over a tropical beach.
“Weird,” I mumbled.
“That one’s from last week’s event portal. BK-236 was a beach planet. Like ninety-percent oceans or something. And at the end of the event, Ouroboros sent nukes to the other side and detonated ‘em.”
I looked at my clanmate, raising my eyebrows. “That’s dark.”
“Story was that they didn’t want the other corporations finding that one and getting its resources. Guess we found something worthwhile there.” He shrugged. “That’s all lore and backstory though. Some game dev’s fiction. I was just there to shoot giant lobster aliens.”
I laughed. Being stuck for so long with only reviews and streams, I was all too familiar with the many mind-blowing qualities of the game, and enemy variety was one of them. The constant addition of new portal destinations meant nearly limitless environments to raid, and with every new location, there were new Exos — the Meta Merc term for any lifeform that didn’t come from Earth.
“Alright,” Tony said, pointing at my face. “More deets later. Gotta get you set up.”
Words appeared in my line of sight, and I realized Tony was issuing in-game commands with his fingertip, not just being weird.
You’ve received an invitation to join the clan The Rat Kings. Accept?
This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
The words, appearing as glowing white letters in some sort of AR overlay, came with a pair of buttons to interact with. I stuck out my hand and pressed ‘YES’.
Anthony nodded. “Cool. Now this room is your home quarters, too. We rented the one with four slots for a reason.”
He flicked his finger one last time in my direction.
Group invite from SkywalkerTony. Accept?
I tapped my confirmation and the words disappeared just in time to see Tony press his hand against the locker marked with his name, then to the third locker which now had ‘SilkyKD’ emblazoned on the door.
More words scrolled in front of my eyes:
Item Transfer:
Ouroboros PK-11 Carbine
MercTec PK-11 Magazine, 42 round (x7)
HSLD ‘Bulwark’ Plate Carrier, Medium
Ouroboros Standard Issue Ballistic Helmet
Camber Custom 1911 Automatic Pistol
Camber Custom 1911 Magazine, 8 round (x3)
Wardrobe Transfer:
Ouroboros Tactical Pants, Basic
HSLD ‘TactiCool’ Combat Shirt
Foakley ‘Awful Stomper’ Boots
“This is enough to get you started,” Tony said. “And a hell of a lot better than the noob gear you get after the tutorial missions.”
I grinned. “Sweet, now how do I use it?”
“Put your hand on your locker for inventory control. Just swap everything I gave you into your active inventory, then equip all of it in the right slots.”
Touching my locker replaced my entire field of vision with a gridded inventory screen. I could peruse the items Tony had sent me, even check details spec sheets, but there was no time. I just slid everything into my worn item slots and pulled my hand back.
When the inventory screen popped away, I was completely dressed for battle, right down to the assault rifle hanging in front of my chest on a three-point sling. My avatar’s civilian shirt and pants were replaced with dark gray cargo pants and a rugged, long-sleeve black shirt with the Ouroboros ‘O’ symbol watermarked like a camouflage pattern in shades of gray and dark blue.
“All these items are modded out,” Tony said. “Stuff Jim and I bought and used during our first couple of weeks. That handgun is from the Historic Weapons event, even.”
I touched the 1911 in the holster built into the chest of my plate carrier. Below the hefty handgun, a row of pouches held six rifle magazines and two for the pistol. Of course, right in the center of my chest was a brick-like electronic device, complete with a blue glowing circle.
I groaned.
“Is my helmet glowing, too?” I asked Tony, smacking the Aramid bucket riding low over my eyes and ears. “Where’s the mirror?”
Tony slapped my arm. “No time, bro. We’ve got like four minutes to get to the portal.”
Vanity would have to wait. I was geared up, amped up, and ready to blast some Exos.
We booked out of the barracks building and I followed Tony through the crowds toward the outer rim of the Hub’s dome. If nothing else, the goofy glowing blue circle on the back of his body armor made it easy to keep track of him as we ran. The bouncing light was almost hypnotic.
Not that I needed anything making me feel tired at that point. A minute in, and I was already struggling for breath. It was like the game knew I was an out of shape graphic artist — then I remembered the medical scans.
They wouldn’t base a character’s starting stats on their real physiology, would they? Nah. I would have read that somewhere. Or the boys would have told me.
Still, running sucked just as much in Immersion as it did in real life. To distract myself from the burning lungs and cramping legs, I tried to catch glimpses of the other Big O players as we ran past them. I figured seeing some cool gear would inspire me, but the only thing catching my eye was sideways glances, smirks, and at least three people stopping to point in our direction.
I thought they were making fun of us, but Tony looked back at me, smiling as wide as the Cheshire cat. Not the look of someone being openly mocked, so I took his cue and ignored the feeling.
When we finally reached the entrance to a portal chamber, Jim was waiting, pointing at his watch.
“I hope you gave him the full tutorial, Tony,” he growled, his face set and serious. “We have to jump now.”