TWELVE: FINN

Finnbar Murphy was having a week. And not an awful week, either. A pleasant week. A really enjoyable week, in fact. It began normally enough, if that was an appropriate description. He played Dungeon in his uncle’s basement for the first four days, a move that earned him a nonstop ticket to Beratement City, courtesy of his wicked Aunt Betty.

Deep down, he knew she had the best of intentions.

She wanted him to get outside, enjoy the fresh air, and do something fulfilling with the “time he had left.” She wanted him to hang out with Kendra from down the road. Finn and Kendra had so much in common, she said. They could talk about their conditions, how they were dealing with them, so on and what forth.

But Finn knew her real motivations. She was trying to play matchmaker for a couple of disabled kids. It made her feel like she was doing her civic duty or something. Making up for having it so good, which was noble it its own weird entitled way. It was just that Finn had no interest in Kendra. It wasn’t like he had never dreamed about having someone to grow partway to middle-aged with. They just… had nothing in common.

Plus, he never felt more alive when he was in the world of Dungeon.

So when his uncle had called him up to talk about an ogreish new job opportunity, he had nearly leapt out of his chair and dragged himself up the stairs instead of taking the lift. But he had to play it cool. Finn couldn’t let on that he was on board, especially before he and Uncle Billy made it to the dreaded negotiating stage.

In the end, it had only cost his uncle a thousand bucks and a new pair of roller blades. Why roller blades? Because Finn Murphy loved to watch people squirm when his condition made them uncomfortable. And roller blades are really hard to find now, obviously. But it was mostly the uncomfortable thing. He had enjoyed it with Uncle Billy then, and he had enjoyed it with Lars a few hours later.

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It surprised Finn to find he liked that big fella, Lars. Sure, he was ugly as all get out, but he was kind of funny and nice in a weird, spends-too-much-time-eating-by-himself way. And he was interested in Dungeon. And anybody that was interested in Finn’s passion was number one A-OK in his book.

Truth be told, it was nice to be around a noob who didn’t know the ins and outs of the game. It was nice to share what he knew, for once. His knowledge. His experience. Though he couldn’t let Lars know. That would ruin his cocky, disabled kid persona.

Speaking of things getting ruined, he was glad his headset was okay. Although there had been a weird squeezing sensation right when he loaded into the game, sensory overload could explain that. Other than one hiccup, everything appeared normal as soon as he spawned into Dungeon. Except for maybe that random kill screen. And the lack of input recognition.

That was weird.

Though this campaign, Pro Dungeon Impact, was in Beta, so glitches were to be expected. But other than those two things, Dungeon was operating at its full glorious potential. The tall grass in the field surrounding the quaint town before him was as green and vivid as ever. The medieval-esque stable off in the distance looked more real than anything he had ever seen in a movie, and the cart tracks cutting through the field he stood in—

There was a flash of movement in front of his feet. His hand instinctively dropped to the hilt of the dagger on his hip as he prepared to draw if the situation required it.

But it didn’t.

He smiled at the sight of the animal. All Dungeoneers tried to include a version of her as an homage to the founder of Digital Interactive Kinetic Synergy. She was his companion, and his mount in the game, and she was in the logo, after all. And this rendition was about as classic as it could get.

And once Finnbar Murphy spotted her racing in front of his feet again, he reached down, grabbed her by the collar, and picked her up.