This is so sick, I just had to say something. Even though I’m out of breath from running. Can you pick up on that? Streaming from inside is weird…
The Immersion hardware for Meta Mercs is definitely not a one-way street. I mean, we all knew it could make us feel sensations and pain and all that, but I had no idea it could put memories into my head!
I didn’t realize it until Tony hooked me up with this assault rifle. You’d think I’d need some lessons on how to use it right? It’s not like old school games where you just pick a weapon up and then…boom…point and click your way to shooting people then hit ‘R’ to reload.
Nope! It’s real! It has a trigger, a charging handle, a bolt catch release…and here’s the crazy part. I know what they’re all called and how to use ‘em! When we got to Jim, I freaked out about it. “How the hell do I know what an ‘immediate action drill’ is?” I asked, because I suddenly knew how to clear a jam on a rifle that I’d never seen in my life — along with every other basic part of using it.
It’s because of my character’s base level in Firearms Handling. The devs were smart enough to know that people wouldn’t want to stumble into a realistic shooting match with zero knowledge of guns. Some people go their whole lives without seeing a real one, much less using one, right? So, they like…implant the operating manual right into our brains. So sick.
Anyway…Jim’s looking pissed and the timer’s ticking. Let’s party!
***
“Done dickin’ around with your ten viewers, man?” Jim asked me with a pointed look.
“It’s not ten!” I grinned. “It’s eight.”
Both Jim and Tony laughed at that one. I had no misconceptions — streaming was competitive. I just did it for kicks. My handful of regular viewers liked that I never studied a game before playing it for the first time.
My approach to Meta Mercs was no different. I’d seen a few videos and listened to the boys talk about the game a few times, but other than that, I liked to go in blind.
And now I was about to take that philosophy to its highest level by jumping completely green into the circular portal generator directly ahead. It was a ring of metal, like most sci-fi portal machines, but I could see right through it like a window. No shimmers, no particle effects. Just a clear view into an open grassland under a light purple sky.
My two clanmates stepped between me and the portal, cutting two impressive silhouettes. They’d both touched the lockers in the staging part of the portal chamber to finish gearing up with helmets, refilled ammo, and special items.
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“Let’s kick some ass!” Jim shouted, bolting into a run.
Tony slapped my shoulder and took off after him. After watching them both stride through the portal like it was no big deal, I followed.
Crossing the threshold didn’t tingle or make me dizzy like I thought it would. The only disorientation came from the change in scenery. One second, I was in a cold, sterile room. The next, I was in the middle of a vast savannah on some alien planet.
The air smelled sweat and natural, untouched by any kind of pollution. The sounds around me were just as pure — the low howl of a breeze and a very distant animal call that reminded me of a crow.
I turned around just in time to see the round window back to the Hub blink away. Behind me, Jim and Tony racked the actions on their rifles.
“Should I open up my Operation Profile?” I asked, pulling by my own rifle’s charging handle and flicking the safety on. Both came like reflex actions.
“Don’t bother,” Tony said.
“No time for it now,” Jim added. “We’ve got twenty minutes on-world, then we have to be back here to catch the portal out.”
Tony looked at me and shrugged, but since his helmet had a full face mask, I wasn’t sure how to take it. Jim began jogging toward the horizon before I could ask.
Tony and I followed suit and were hot on his heels. A hundred yards of running through knee-high yellow grass had me thinking that the raid’s level scaling also did something to boost my endurance. I wasn’t as winded as when I ran through the Hub.
Still, I was grateful when Jim lowered himself into a running crouch, then ducked low in the grass along a low rise in the terrain. Tony and I fell in on either side of him. I was making extra effort to stay low and unseen by whatever might be ahead.
Peering through the yellow blades, I spotted why he’d stopped us. A wide, low tree sat in the distance alongside a pond about the size of a backyard swimming pool. They seemed strange there — the only landmarks around in a sea of bright, sweeping grass.
Even stranger were the three animals prowling around the base of the tree. They looked so much like lions that I wondered if we hadn’t taken a portal to Africa instead of another planet.
“Species E18225,” Jim whispered. “Exo dire lions, basically. About two feet taller than Earth ones.”
Tony chuckled. “And ten times more pissed off. Like, all the time.”
My brow furrowed under my helmet. “We’re here to kill animals? That doesn’t seem legit.”
“Nope,” Jim said, sparing me a quick glance. “We’re here for research. We want to avoid the animals.”
Research. Of course. I almost forgot for a second that we were all wearing glowing ‘O’ insignias. I was damn near about to comment on how boring that was.
Then a dire lion roared and turned his maned head in our direction.