Room 1145
Hab 34
Residential District I, Pavonis Mons, Mars.
0800
Marcus followed the instructions left by the technicians, and watched as the computers booted up. Lights blinked and turned on as the pod went through its diagnostic checks and motors whirred as Marcus opened the door, revealing a padded space within. As he settled in, the mattress formed around him with the distinct new car smell.
A moment of claustrophobia set in as Marcus closed the door, quickly mitigated by a cool breeze blowing through the Pod’s internal climate control. Marcus looked around, this being his first time being inside such an enclosed space and a feeling of anxiety ran through him. What if he was one of the few percent which were not able to log into the system? His answer was quickly answered when he felt a falling sensation followed by his vision closing to a point.
First Time Synchronization and Neural Calibration
Please focus on the dot for ten seconds...
Next was a series of instructions, testing what he could assume was his connection to the machine. He kept the dot centered in his vision as it moved from side to side, then diagonally. More tests went on, like hearing, reaction time, and many more. It felt like the human benchmark test Marcus had done many times back then.
Next were the motor tests. Marcus was tasked to walk, run, sprint to a spot, stop, turn on a dime, and dodge projectiles. It even required him to mimic poses that reminded him of the Kinect era. It had been tedious at the beginning but turned out to be quite fun, all for the novelty of it. He hadn’t even started the game yet.
Congratulations!
Pod synchronization at 100%
The pod calibration ended, the light then dimmed to a gentler tone, and the game selection screen popped up. The single thumbnail showed a devastated land with a man armed with an SVD Dragunov slung on his back, clad in patchwork gear and camouflage. He looked on to the devastated landscape before him. Title showing, [Aim Down Sights]
Unlike the games Marcus had been used to, there was no splash screen or cinematic, and no main menu. It directly led him to the character creation screen.
Marcus wasn’t that big on character creation. Usually, he simply picked random, or went through the presets repeatedly until he found a model which he liked well enough. As for gender, Marcus usually picked male when playing first-person games and female when playing third, all for the same reason most men used. This time, there was no selection option for gender.
‘No chance of catfishing there,’ Marcus thought to himself.
Attention!
Would you like to use your current physique as your avatar?
[Y/N]
[More Information]
Curious, Marcus picked the third option, and another notification popped up.
More Information:
The game will follow your current physique and use it as your in-game avatar your facial features will not be included for privacy. Your body will be re-scanned monthly and your avatar will change accordingly. This is in compliance with MRA: 1733.
[More information]
An option to copy his current physical stature? But why the included law number? He clicked on more information.
What followed is a twenty-page long law. Curious, Marcus skimmed through the subjects covered. It was mainly to reward the physical maintenance of its citizens by encouraging their players by giving incentive for players to be fit. It sounded like a dumb law, but there has to be a reason for it to pass through, right?
Marcus opted-in, considering that he planned to get out of his skinny form anyway and sculpt his body to a more fit physique.
The System showed an avatar with the current scan of his body wearing a face that was not his own, doing a T pose. Marcus couldn’t help but have a proud chuckle. He had woken up with a body of a holocaust survivor, his muscles atrophied from the damage brought by his neurological condition. Now, Marcus had put in a bit of weight, enough to be called slim, maybe thin, depending on who’s looking. A sliver of belly fat was the price of the month-long bulking process following his recovery. Of which Marcus was eager to pay, as he could easily trim the fat with some proper nutrition and more exercise.
As for his face, it was alright, a normal-looking white man with light blonde hair. He was not keen on putting as much care into his looks, but adding a scar running down from the corner of his eye to his cheek was too cool to pass up. Add a bit of stubble, and he was good to go.
Attention!
Allocate your stats.
Points available: 10
Physical Stats Strength Endurance Constitution Dexterity 1 1 1 1 Affects carry weight, sprinting speed, striking damage, and throwing range. Affects rate of stamina consumption and the rate of recovery. Affects breath holding time and breath recovery. Affects total hit points. Determines the chance of surviving a wound by decreasing the rate of bleeding through wounds, both internal and external. Determines the ease of handling weapons and tools. Decreases the chance of fumbling. [Slot Empty] [Slot Empty] [Slot Empty] [Slot Empty]
From his experience of playing MMOs back during his childhood, Marcus knew this was one of the few crossroads where someone could make or break their builds. A casual looking to play the game for fun would just pick the stats and builds they fancy and allocate from there. But with Marcus, he needed a solid build for his character.
The stats were straightforward. All were a tradeoff between speed, stamina, health, and manipulation. Unlike the MMOs back then, there were no wikis readily available on the web. What he found showed partial or barely any information, with all asking him to go through a paywall. Even if he did pay, the information might not be even worth it, so he decided to pass. He would have to discover it by himself.
The game claimed its devotion to being as realistic as possible. From his experience participating in two gun competitions, he knew cardio was just as a critical part of getting to the top ranks as aiming. Breathing could mess up your aim as easily as a shaky pair of arms. So, holding and controlling your breath is important for a steady aim. But if someone was running from, say, cover to cover, they could be winded by the time they reach their destination and would have a very shaky aim by then. Of course, one could also time their shots between their breaths, but that needed practice. A lot of practice.
As for Constitution, that is where Marcus’ real-life knowledge stops. He was never shot before, nor had a bullet land close to him, but it would be safe to say that the higher the stat, the higher chance of someone surviving being shot. The description was not specific to the extent of its effects or what caliber would take someone out at what endurance level.
He had to risk it, but the stat took the least priority for him. He didn’t plan on being shot in the first place.
For dexterity, he was torn. The description said that the stat affects the ease of handling weapons. But how about his own personal knowledge of handling the weapons themselves? The description didn’t elaborate.
Attention!
Allocate your stats.
Points available: 0
Physical Stats Strength Endurance Constitution Dexterity 4 5 2 3 Affects carry weight, sprinting speed, striking damage, and throwing range. Affects rate of stamina consumption and the rate of recovery. Affects breath holding time and breath recovery. Affects total hit points. Determines the chance of surviving a wound by decreasing the rate of bleeding through wounds, both internal and external. Determines the ease of handling weapons and tools. Decreases the chance of fumbling. [Slot Empty] [Slot Empty] [Slot Empty] [Slot Empty]
Usually, when games show something simple, it always ends up being much more complicated later on. As of now, Marcus had to focus on what he could see as something he would need in his immediate future. His reasoning were:
Strength: 4
He needed to carry his gear, guns, and ammunition with him along with the loot he will surely bring back with him.
Endurance: 5
Cardio is the key to success. There is a reason soldiers run every morning and forced to march long distances. They needed to get to their positions without being out of breath, or worse, exhausted.
Constitution: 2
One point into the stat. This might make him into a glass cannon, but who isn’t at level one.
Dexterity: 3
This is where he put the rest of his points. He didn’t know to what extent the stat could benefit him in the game, but the description gave enough information for him to not miss out on it.
Attention!
Establish your character's history.
Points available: 15
Traits Childhood Flaws Previous Profession Hobbies [Expand] [Expand] [Expand] [Expand]
Marcus read through the myriad of choices on each slot, racking his brain on the best combination for his build. He needed a solid fighter, since going through raids was likely the fastest way of getting loot. Unfortunately, the combat-specific traits cost so many points to acquire that it forces the player to take up debilitating negative traits in exchange, like clumsy and hard of hearing to addictions like smoker, or combat stim addict. Marcus didn’t want to be a stim addict in the game despite the trait point tradeoff. The trait had the risk of losing player control when experiencing withdrawals.
So he had to take cheaper positive traits with manageable negative traits. Ones that could support his character and give him the slight edge in a fight, not something that has to be relied on entirely.
Besides, it's not like he planned on fighting all the time. PVE and PVP could get old quick. It wouldn't hurt being able to enjoy as much of the game as he could without it becoming a chore.
Still, the plan was to take advantage of the normalized and regulated RMT. To make money off playing the game and selling items to people who need them. In the games he played before, the wealthiest players were not the ones who shoot the most expensive bullets or wore the best gear, it was the player who supported the PVP addicts and simply went home with the cash while the others shoot money towards each other.
Attention!
Establish your character's history.
Points available: 0
Traits Childhood Flaws Previous Profession Hobbies Highschool Athlete (-6)
Childhood modifier. 1.1x Endurance, 1.1x Strength. Smoker (+4)
Addiction modifier. Cravings modifier affect .8x Dexterity stat.
Addiction modifiers need constant satiation or suffer withdrawal symptoms. Musician (-6)
Profession modifier. 1.1x Dexterity. The charisma stat bonus depends on the quality of performance and the number of audiences. Jogger (-7)
Conditional modifier. 1.2x Endurance. Requires regular jogging.
Attention!
Are you sure you are finished with Character Creation? Changes will be permanent after this point.
[Y/N]
Finally done with his pick, Marcus picked yes.
Choose your spawn location:
[Expand]
Marcus spent a bit of time sifting through the locations. There are a multitude of spawn locations; military bases, corporate facilities, colonial holdings, and even unaffiliated holdouts. All corresponded to the available factions; United Sol Navy, Walt Industries, People’s republic of Terminus, and Renegades.
There were other minor factions, but were unavailable to choose from at the start. Factions like the Oasis, a scientific faction whose focus is researching anomalous phenomena on the planet. Interchange Alliance, a group of merchant companies banding together to make as much money on the planet as possible. There were even bandits, hostile to all, especially to other bandit groups.
Marcus wasn’t interested in joining the major factions, so he chose the UNCS Light of the Stars as a starting location. It intrigued him, a massive colony ship that crashed in the middle of a city. It also didn’t hurt that the area is under the Renegades, a true neutral faction unaligned to anybody. That along with it being the stomping grounds of one of his friends, Arthur, the one who recommended him the game and told him that money could be made playing it.
There was no falling sensation as he was taken out of the customization and into the game. To Marcus, it felt like simply waking up from a dream. A notification floated in front of him.
The beginning of your journey. You saw the opportunity, and you took it. You embarked on a years-long journey, frozen in stasis, and woke up to the war already at a ceasefire pending negotiation where opportunities reared their heads. You decided whether you will help with the reconstruction or help the other factions, ensuring that the next conflict will be the last and yours as the last one standing.
Your father's guitar. Leaving your previous job as a bar musician in a small town, you took everything you had and sold the rest except for your father's beaten guitar he had passed down to you. Too bulky for luggage, you had it sent separately in a fast hauler to arrive before your arrival.
Quest type: Personal Quest
Requirements: Track your package and retrieve it.
Marcus finished reading the texts when he was suddenly rocked from the side. He was in a strange room, and there were other players with him, strapped to their seats, either sleeping, waking up, or busy looking around. Unsecured objects fell from the ceiling, hitting the deck plating and adding to the cacophony. Flame licked the edge of the window on the other side, and Marcus turned his head over to his own window just to see the curvature of a planet.
“Cool,” Marcus muttered. They were being dropped to the planet from space. Through the porthole, the dark side of the planet loomed in the distance. Pinpricks of light dotted the inky blackness. Settlements, Marcus reasoned, but it was unlikely that they would be dropped there.
Marcus struggled through his restraints. The straps dug into his shoulders as he tried to see more out the small window and realized how playing could easily be mistaken for the real world.
Everything felt natural. There was not a trace of the uncanny valley present in every computer-generated movement. Everything was smooth, sudden, and jerky, but never unnatural. Those sci-fi authors might be right about something; reality could be a simulation.
“Attention passengers. We have hit the atmosphere and are at an assisted glide towards the location.”
The PA announcement cut through the noise just as the turbulence subsided. What’s left was a steady whine as the craft leveled and flew. Looking out once more, Marcus could see only a devastated landscape with little greenery. Buildings from long destroyed settlements and shattered skyscrapers, their metal frame exposed to the elements.
“Hey what’s your name? Want to go into a competent team?” Someone yelled through the din. Marcus looked over to find a man leaning forwards as much as his straps could let him, trying to talk to a woman.
“Not interested.” She replied. “I already got a team waiting for me.”
“Are they any good? I’m sure if you roll with my squad, we could get to where you want faster. Just tell me what you want.”
“Sorry. Really not interested.” She said with a wave.
“How about you? You looking for a team? My guys are pretty high level. We could hook you up. You know, us renegades have to help each other.” the man said, changing his attention to Marcus. Marcus looked behind him to make sure that he was talking to him. Other players leaned back, eyes closed and heads swaying from the intermittent bumps. He looked back to the man only then to notice that the girl was shaking her head.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
“Sorry man. I’m not really looking for a group right now. I’m thinking of walking around for just a bit. Get a feel before logging out.” Marcus replied, shrugging.
The man smiled but didn’t reply. Marcus could see in his eyes that he was only doing it to save face by making it seem like he was just recruiting randoms.
“Attention passengers. We are coming up for landing.”
With a rising whine from the engines, Marcus felt his spine compress as the lander arrested its downward glide with a quick burst of its thrusters. He looked back out the window to see a massive ship crashed in the middle of a city. It left a track of devastation that cared little before it, buildings, roads, everything was destroyed, along with the ship itself. The Ship’s stern snapped off, left behind by the aft which kept going for about a mile before stopping.
Another piercing whine, much louder and higher pitched than before. Marcus felt it on his back as the lander decelerated further as the craft touched down with a metallic thud.
“We have arrived at the UNCS Light of the Stars. Welcome to Terminus 3. Good luck.”
With a hiss, the door to his right opened downward, doubling as a ramp where the harsh light of the noonday sun shone brightly. Marcus had to squint even though he was still inside. The bright sun peeked through the hangar’s roofs and reflected against the deck plating. Passengers unclasped their harnesses and stood up and Marcus followed. He trailed down the gangway and out of the shade, for him to feel the sting as the sun’s rays as it hit his skin. He wondered if he could get a sunburn on this game and if it would be just as annoying as the real one.
They landed on an overhang built to the side of the ship. It gave a panoramic view of the devastated city below. The city looked to be uninhabited despite it looking like it had once been a bustling metropolis. He wondered why, and was sure that the ship parked in the middle had a hand but couldn't be all of it.
Around him, other landers landed and unloaded their passengers. Trying to get away from the noise, Marcus went inside and into the shade, illuminated by the sun peeking over the opening and lights hanging from the ceiling. A high-pitched whining noise pierced through the present din. Marcus looked over and saw another lander hover in place and shoot off into the sky.
Players converged on one of the corridors, so he followed along. This place was likely to be a noob area, so there should be an abundance of tips and tutorials designed for people like Marcus; clueless people.
Marcus spotted the woman going the same direction and he quickened his pace, homing towards her to catch up. She gave him a glance, but walked on.
Curious, Marcus sidled next to the woman and asked. “So, why didn't you want me to take him up on the offer?”
“I know those kinds of people; they’re trouble just looking to take advantage of you. But if you’re really keen on joining his group, then I wouldn’t stop you. Just don’t come to me saying that I didn’t warn you.”
“Thanks for the concern. But that man is laying it on too thick.” Marcus replied.
“Good for you to know basic common sense. Just don’t be the type of guy who learns very little from doing something very stupid. Well, here are my guys.” She said, pointing over to a group of men standing by the side, eyeing him. “It would be best if you pass through the shooting range to make sure the first gun you buy would turn out to be the one you want. Good luck.”
“Thanks for the advice.” Marcus watched as the unnamed woman walked away. The other men kept their eye on him, moving out of the way. They gave him a slight nod and followed after.
“Thanks for nothing, really.” He muttered.
Name: Hartdegen Race: Human Player ID: 4374711912965355 Level: 1
Experience: 0/100 [Equipment and Inventory]
Health: 120/120 Stamina: 100/100 [Quests]
Shield: 0/0 Fame: 0 (Nobody) Nutrition: Fine [Traits and Skills]
Affiliation: Renegades Hydration: Fine Stats Str End Cons Dex 4 (1.1) 5 (1.3) 2 3 (1.1) Cha [Empty] [Empty] [Empty] 0
Attention:
This notice is to remind that you have currently spent 2 hours in VR.
The scent of rust mixed with machine exhaust and unburnt fuel filtered through his nostrils. The smell reminded him of his Uncle’s machine shop he worked at during his high school days.
A fresh breeze then came through the overhang where the top of the ship opened up. Even so high up, the wind brought with it dust. Marcus looked out, the overhang gave an astounding view of the devastated city, of which the ship was smack in the middle. The area around was arid, almost no greenery within view, and with the ship being the only obvious human habitation within sight.
With nothing else to see, Marcus went deeper into the ship. He walked past a lander and followed along without a word. Nobody minded him as all were busy with their conversations among the others within their group. They all streamed into the hall, where at the end a double door where It opened up to a bustling marketplace. Players walked amongst the NPCs, distinct with their mishmash of gear and weapons slung compared to the NPCs who simply wore normal clothes, unbothered by the heavily armed pedestrians.
The interior space was massive. If not for Marcus seeing that he was landing in a ship during the approach, he would have easily mistaken the interior to belong to a large building or an underground structure. The central avenue could easily accommodate two trucks moving alongside each other. Buildings inside the ship reached up three floors, stalls, and stores occupied the ground floors facing the center where the pedestrians funneled through. The upper floors looked to be private dwellings, and from where he stood, Marcus could see hotels, bars, even signs for bathhouses, which looked to cater more for the NPCs rather than players.
[Equipment] Earpiece headgear Face Cover Chest Rig Radio [Empty] [Empty] [Empty] [Empty] [Empty] Eyes [Empty] Backpack Special [Empty] [Empty] Primary [Empty] Clothing Field Gray Overalls, Basic Boots Secondary [Empty] Holster Scabbard [Empty] [Empty] Weight Armor rating Shield [Empty] [Empty] [Empty]
'Pretty much a whole lot of nothing', Marcus thought to himself.
[Inventory] Pockets Backpack (Not Equipped) Vests (Not Equipped) Post office claim slip - -
Credit Chit
Value: 10000 Credits
- - Weight: 0.00 Kg Bulk: 0.00 Units
The smell of searing meat drifting through the air was enough for Marcus to look towards the source. Meats skewered on sticks were cooked under burning hot coals whose smoke trailed up to an exhaust hood, connected to pipes that led outside the ship. Even with the hood, enough of the smoke managed to escape and call in customers like bees to honey.
The matronly shopkeeper running the grill noticed Marcus looking and asked. “Would you like to buy some, young man? I marinated it in a special sauce overnight.”
“It smells good,” Marcus admitted, licking the corner of his mouth and wiped away the drool that trailed out off the corner of his mouth. “Looks good too.”
It had been too long since he tasted grilled meat. He had done his best to track down some restaurants that served them, but with Mars’ recycled air, Marcus doubted if it was even legal to cook with an open fire within the planet. “But does it taste as good as it looks, though?”
“Oh, you’re breaking my heart, young man. I wouldn’t dare sell any of my food and set up a stall if it weren’t good.”
“I found that stalls serve delicious food compared to how they look. So you have some high expectations to beat.” He said, remembering the time when he travelled out into parts of Asia.
She smiled. “These will be the best ones you’ll ever taste.”
“Okay. Should I know what these meats are then? Or is it better if I don’t find out?”
She grinned. “I think it’s better if I tell you later. I’ll even give you a bit to taste for free.”
“Whenever I hear first taste is free, it comes from dealers pushing drugs. You sure this is not addictive?"
She laughed, picking a sharpened stick from a cup and skewered a piece that just finished cooking. “The free ones are only for sweet young men. People do buy a couple more after they get a taste. So it’s a risk you’ll have to take.”
Marcus took the skewer and looked at it. The meat glistened under the artificial lights, with a faint trail of steam rising from the slightly charred exterior. ‘Goddamn.’ Marcus thought to himself. ‘Even food got this level of detail.’ He sniffed and ate the entire piece, closing his eyes as sweet-flavored meat seasoned with crushed peppers and spices of which Marcus couldn’t place. He sighed. It had been too long since he tasted something so good, even if it was artificial. “Gotta say, it’s pretty good. So can I know what it is?”
“It’s pork, young man. My sons raise them outside the city.” The lady replied, smiling.
“I should report you for this." Marcus replied, "Okay, I’ll buy one more. Maybe I'll come back for another later.” he continued, pulling out the Credit Chit from his inventory and scanning it on the till. With a beep, the payment came through. Marcus watched and waited as woman wrapped up an already cooked skewer. “You know, I just got here, so I’m just curious. What happened in this city?”
“War happened young man. You can have a seat over there.” She sighed, pointing to the stools near a small counter on the side. One was occupied by a bearded NPC who looked at him and simply nodded.
Marcus took the seat, feeling the cozy atmosphere with the small radio playing some music. He took another bite, enjoying the juiciness of the piece, and could see himself being a regular at this place.
“Here, have something to drink too.” The lady said, coming over and handing him a cup of water and a cold pitcher.
Attention! Food and drink play an important role in Burned asylum. A player’s ability to naturally regenerate health and stamina depends on his level of nutrition and hydration. Natural regeneration will stop if the levels get too low, forcing the player to depend solely on medicine and stimulants for recovery. Some food and drink give bonuses.
Attention:
Food Buff:
Well Fed Modifier
+10% Health and Stamina Regeneration
Just like every other MMO, it needed money sinks. Hunger and thirst is a simple feature to spend money to. Marcus wouldn’t be surprised if there would also be taxes put on players owning properties in the game. ‘Ammo would be a good place too,’ Marcus thought to himself as he finished the skewer along with the cup of water.
“Thanks for the food. But I gotta go.” He said, nodding and returning the cup and throwing the rest into the trash.
“Be careful out there young man.” The stall keeper replied.
Marcus continued down the avenue. Looking at the map, the Armory and the shooting range is at the level below, along with the post office which should lead to the completion of his personal quest.
Finding a cargo lift leading down, Marcus joined in on the rest of his fellow low leveled players, distinct from the others by their gray overalls. With a heavy clank, the security doors closed. The gaps between the metal gave a full view outside the elevator. It slowly lowered itself into the floor, showing thick cables running underneath, then opening up to reveal another massive compartment inside the ship.
Tarp-covered trucks lined alongside armored cars and tracked vehicles. All were parked along each other in a closed-off area. Weapons were mounted on the trucks, ranging from 12.7mm M2 Brownings and Dushkas for the smaller vehicles up to Bushmaster chain guns, though no artillery pieces. A collective ‘whoa’ sounded out of everyone’s. Marcus could only agree. He had the same reaction when he saw his first tank in a show, back when he was still a kid.
The elevator reached the bottom and everyone filled out. Some headed straight towards the Armory, while the rest lingered to check up on the vehicles. Marcus was part of the latter group and came closer to the line of vehicles to have a better view, only for a shrill whistle to stop him in his tracks.
A man wearing an armored vest, camouflaged in a digital gray white pattern, sat behind an M2 Browning machinegun. He pointed to the line painted on the floor ahead of Marcus. He nodded. There were Humvees, JLTVs, and even some of their Russian counterparts like the BMP and TIGR vehicles. All were painted in the same gray, white digital camouflage. There were also other vehicles, whose design Marcus couldn’t point out which could be something other countries used in their armies or have not yet been made back then when he was still awake.
A soldier wearing a similar pattern stood to the side, cradling a PKM machinegun, his eyes shifting through the armored glass of his Altyn helmet as he watched the gawkers getting their eyeful and went on with their way.
“You guys look pretty set up,” Marcus said as he approached. “You mind telling me which group you guys belong to?”
“Interchange.” The soldier answered, “We're part of a trade convoy running supplies. We’re not looking for recruits, and if you got anything else to ask, you would have to talk to our superiors but would have to get past that guy over there.” He said, nodding over to the man behind the machinegun.
He looked up and noticed the machine gunner tightening his hands over the M2's spade grips. “Thanks then. Have a good day.” Marcus replied, walking away. No point in getting shot for being stubborn.
Your father's guitar. Leaving your previous job as a bar musician in a small town, you took everything you had and sold the rest except for your father's beaten guitar he had passed down to you. Too bulky for luggage, you had it sent separately in a fast hauler to arrive before your arrival.
Quest type: Personal Quest
Requirements: Track your package and retrieve it.
The post office was easy to find, next to the Vehicle Bay. Marcus was about to enter when Its doors slammed open as a group left. The look on their faces painted the same emotion, pissed. Curious, Marcus entered and was met by a haggard-looking man who forced a tired smile the moment he peeked in. He stood on the other side of the counter, with bars separating his side from the customers. Behind the man, Marcus could see bare shelves.
Marcus looked around as he approached the counter. The benches provided for waiting customers were thrashed. The plastic seats bolted into the steel frame had been shattered and thrown around the room. A trashcan had been upended, and the contents scattered. “Let me guess, my package isn’t here.” He said, giving the slip for his claim.
“We’re terribly sorry, sir. No package has arrived for a week. We are currently tracking them down, but they seem to have been misplaced by the dispatch facility. We are currently awaiting if there are any developments but it is uncertain whether our post will receive the whole or even part of the packages.”
Marcus should’ve known. The quest’s description was too straightforward to be simple. “I guess that explains the ‘renovations’ done here.”
“We are terribly sorry, sir.” The man said, defeated.
“No worries,” Marcus replied, turning back. "You know what, I think you should just put a sign up front rather than talking directly to people and getting shit for it," he said as he left. The man might be an NPC, built by code to mimic a person, but the look of defeat in the man’s face looked so genuine that Marcus even felt sorry for the guy. Still, his quest hasn’t been failed yet, which meant that he would just have to find his guitar himself.
On the way to the Armory, Marcus could hear the Shooting Range a good way's away. The gunfire echoing through the halls was staggering. The sound melded that anyone would be forgiven for mistaking a firefight breaking out on the other side. He followed the sounds and stopped at the door leading to it having player made a sign saying:
'Anyone caught stealing will be put into the kill on sight list. Don’t say you weren’t warned and didn’t see the signs. It doesn’t matter.'
Intrigued, Marcus opened the door and was surprised to see bright daylight and an open view off the broken part of the ship. Shooting stalls reaching three stories faced the open aft end of the ship and was occupied by players shooting rifles of different calibers. In the distance, the scar left by the ship as it dragged itself and broke apart allowed unimpeded sightlines reaching to about at least a mile. Pieces of ship made good targets along with the downward angle of everyone shooting made the ground into an effective backstop.
Marcus walked down the stalls, noting the lack of Newbie grays and the diverse selection of guns the players were using. He recognized a couple of Desert Tech rifles along with some Accuracy Internationals mixed in with a variety of precision rifles. But even with the superb rifles, Marcus doubted any of the players could manage to consistently hit targets past five hundred yards. Their fundamentals were abysmal; jerky triggers, improper eye relief, among others. One even had his scope bite him as he fired a shot at the amusement of everyone around watching. Marcus continued walking when he noticed the suspicious look people were sending him. With his newbie gray, it was easy to assume that they think he was there to steal.
“You lost there newbie?” A player wearing patchwork camo asked, blocking his way further. He was tall and was well built. Marcus had to look up just to see his overly scarred face. “Or are you here for something else?”
If the man was trying to intimidate, he failed. Casually looking to the side, Marcus replied, “Just looking around. I was wondering about the gunfire, but it seemed like most were just too busy missing targets.”
“Look. Take this as free advice.” He scowled, ignoring the verbal jab. “Get lost. This is a range. You shouldn’t be here if you don’t even have a gun to shoot. We're already busy enough and watching out for rats is not something we want to do.”
"I'll be back." He said as he turned towards the Armory next door. It opened to a large room, most of the area was partitioned off by a large armored door and steel bars separating the back. a Burly man leaned on the other side of the counter, almost bending over it. His gaze pierced Marcus with a discerning eye, like a predator sizing up his prey.
“You lost newbie?” The man asked, his voice contained enough gravel to pave a long stretch of road.
“I’m actually looking for a weapon. But I’m thinking of trying them out first.”
The man looked him up and down and grunted. He pushed himself away from the counter and stood back. It gave Marcus a clear view of the towering figure and noted that he was missing part of his legs, replaced by some prosthetic. “What do you have in mind?” The man asked.
“An AR, collapsing buttstock, around 14-inch barrel, M-Lok Handguard or at least Picatinny with the flat upper, holo-sights will be preferable but I could do with irons. Full auto and semi, no three round bursts.”
The man laughed, leaning over the counter. “You're a funny guy. Unfortunately for both of us, you can't afford it. Nor do I even know you enough to sell you one. Here, this one, I'm sure you can afford it.” He reached under the counter and laid it on top. Marcus immediately recognized it as one of the most iconic pistols in, arguably, human history.
Attention!
M1911
One of the most venerable designs from the twentieth century. This weapon had been in every major conflict since its inception and will continue for more years to come. Despite its age, the weapon could only be improved by parts made of stronger and lighter materials. A proof of its timeless design.
Caliber: 45 ACP
Mods: None
Familiarity: 0 (Novice)
Requirements: Strength (2)
Marcus picked up the gun, finger off the trigger, unloaded the magazine then finally locked the slide back. He then peeked at the open action and the rifling on the barrel. He followed by slotting the magazine home and released the slide. Pointing the muzzle in a safe direction, he slowly pulled the trigger. Marcus grimaced as the hammer fell with an empty click. "That's a gritty trigger."
"Is it? Give it to me." The man snatched the pistol off Marcus' hand and racked the slide. He grimaced as he tested the trigger. "It is." He said, laying the gun back over the counter. "The boys over there are getting sloppy." He muttered then looked over to Marcus.
“You seem to know what you're doing." The man said, "Sad to say, you're the first one to clear it as the first thing you do, unlike the other dumbasses whose first instinct is to hold it with the finger on the trigger then point it at something."
"I'm not like everybody else," Marcus replied.
"Then how about this?” He reached under the counter once more and laid three more magazines and two boxes of ammunition. “I'm looking for some shooters. I’ll throw in a hundred rounds and four magazines, free. Make yourself look good in the course and we’ll see whether you're the one I'm looking for.” He said, jerking his head to the door to the left, on top of it was a lit sign saying ‘CQB’.
“Once you’re inside, press the button on the side to start. You won’t miss it, and if you do, don’t even bother asking, you can just leave the gun and go out the door. Everything is being recorded so you won’t be able to lie on your score. Come back if you’re done.”
Quest Alert!
First Impressions Matter
The armorer is a hard man to impress. A lot of men and women had passed through his sight and only a select few earned his respect.
Quest Type: Relationship quest
Requirement: Complete the course.
Rewards: Unknown
“Right, thanks,” Marcus said, taking the gun. “You know, I didn’t get your name. I’m Hartdegen, but you can call me Hart.”
“Introduction is after,” He replied, jerking his head to the direction of the course telling him to get on with it.
“Okay, later then,” Marcus muttered, taking the rest of the magazines and ammo, heading towards the CQB area.