Another BANG, and for the third time that day, I opened my eyes to find myself seated in an alien environment. The first thing I noticed was all the wood—wooden planks on the floor, wooden slats for the roof, and logs for the walls. I sat in a wooden chair at a long, wooden table. The pleasant aroma of pine wafted through the air.
The second thing I noticed was that, to my great relief, I could move again. My hands, feet, arms, and legs obeyed me without restraint. I wore a beige jerkin, dark leather pants held up by a belt, and cloth boots that felt like moccasins. A leather purse was tied to my belt, and inside, I counted thirty copper coins.
I concentrated on the letter C, and as Konrad had promised, a document appeared in the center of my field of vision, as though I’d opened a word processor. My character sheet bore nine lines of glowing calligraphy:
Dylan, Level 1 Godless
XP: 0 out of 1,250, Health: 6 out of 6, Mana: 5 out of 5, Stamina: 10 out of 10
Coin: 30 copper
Weapons: None
Armor: None
Skills: None
Abilities: None
Affiliations: None
Quests: FIND THE MEDALLION OF DARNOK
I blinked, and the sheet disappeared. Not a bad start. I would have liked a weapon or some armor, but at least the game had gotten my name right.
Once my eyes adjusted to the torchlight, I studied the room. I was seated in a tavern, and while there were several tables like mine, only half were occupied. Most of the figures appeared to be human, but the short, broad-shouldered patron in chain mail had to be a dwarf. Passed out at another table, the thin, leather-clad figure with pointed ears could only be an elf. I gaped in amazement at how flawlessly the game had created the different races—the scene could have been lifted straight out of a fantasy movie.
The biggest shock came from the rear of the room. Standing behind the oaken bar, the bartender was so tall that her head nearly touched the roof. She had mottled gray skin, a maroon tunic, and a physique that outclassed every professional wrestler I’d ever seen. I thought she was a minotaur at first, but she had a pig’s snout instead of a nose, and foreteeth protruded from her lower jaw. The bartender was an orc.
As I looked at the empty chairs around me, I felt a cold emptiness in my stomach. If this had been a regular fantasy game, I’d be sitting with members of my party, each with their own abilities, background, and personality. There’d be banter and bickering and lively discussion. But I was trapped in a roguelike, which meant it was me against the world. Just one character, just one life.
I stood on my new pair of legs, straightened my jerkin with my new set of fingers, and headed toward the rear of the tavern, where the bartender languidly wiped a mug. She didn’t look up as I approached.
“You’ve been eyeing me for a while, buddy. See something you like?” she asked.
Fantasy novels had taught me that orcs were tough and stupid, yet there was nothing stupid in the bartender’s voice. Her demeanor was perfectly calm, and her question was posed as a threat.
I put on my friendliest smile. “I drank too much last night, and I can’t remember a blessed thing. I don’t even know how I got here. Mind if I ask you some questions?”
The bartender didn’t return my smile, and her snort was halfway between a human’s and a pig’s.
“I’m Zell and you’re in the Groaning Gorgon. That’s what you get for free. Anything else costs five copper a question.”
“Five copper seems a little high. I’m just looking for—”
Zell set down her mug and craned her neck downward until her gray eyes came level with mine. The fingers of her right hand curled into a fist the size of my skull.
“I don’t like you scrawny humans, so it’s five copper a question. That won’t be a problem… will it?”
Without hesitation, I took five coins out of my purse and set them on the bar.
“This place is awfully quiet," I said. "No music, barely any conversation. What’s wrong?”
Zell scooped up my copper with a meaty hand.
“Prince Galliel’s army conquered Elinia three days ago, and his soldiers will reach Raven’s Rest in a fortnight. The prince doesn’t take prisoners, so everyone with coin has fled to Encelas.”
I took a moment to process this. The names didn’t mean anything to me, but this tavern was in Raven’s Rest, which was going to be overrun in two weeks. That gave me a deadline. I couldn’t chat with every character or take every quest. I needed to move fast.
I set down five more coins. Then I asked the question that everyone asks at the start of a fantasy game.
“Where can an adventurer find work around here?”
Zell looked me over, studying my clothes, then my hands. Another snort.
“I have a task that needs doing… but you’re not up to it. I’d talk to the wizards at the Enclave or the officers at the Guardhouse.”
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
I had a thousand other questions, such as where I could find the Medallion of Darnok. But I only had twenty copper left, so I closed my purse.
“Thanks.”
⚔
I walked out of the tavern into the semi-sunshine of a crisp autumn day. I took three paces and stopped slack-jawed, stunned by how flawlessly Konrad had programmed the game. The thin, wispy clouds looked real and the breeze felt like the breath of wind on a fall day. The chirps from the trees sounded like the singing of real birds.
Citizens of Raven’s Rest passed by, winding their way along a paved stone path. Most were quiet and pensive, as though walking in a funeral procession, and none seemed to notice me or my astonishment. Peasants wore jerkins and pants like mine, while merchants wore coats over heavy cotton shirts.
At least three-quarters of the pedestrians were human. There were more dwarves than elves, and more elves than halflings. A handful of citizens with green scales and donut-shaped eyes walked upright, standing a head taller than the average human. Lizardfolk.
I concentrated on the letter L and studied the Local Map. Most of the village was occupied by tiny houses, but five buildings had labels: the Cathedral of Gods in the north, Orla’s Smithy and Supplies in the east, the Enclave and the Guardhouse in the village center, and the Groaning Gorgon in the south. Just outside the tavern, a golden circle surrounded an arrow pointing south. When I turned to face west, the arrow in the circle rotated to the west. When I faced east, the arrow rotated east.
“Well done,” I whispered.
I studied the map until I had a solid grasp of the environs. Then I dismissed it with a blink and headed north, doing my best not to gawk at everyone I passed.
⚔
As Zell had suggested, I decided to seek work at the Enclave. I wasn’t sure what exactly an Enclave was, but the building was tall and cylindrical, made of polished stone that glowed like marble. There was no sign, but judging from the glowing glyphs on the door, I assumed this was some sort of mage’s guild.
I knocked twice. When no one answered, I tried the door and was gratified to find it unlocked.
Inside, robed figures were packing books and other items into chests. In the center of the entryway, a young woman in an orange robe sat at a ponderous desk, making checkmarks in a ledger. As I approached, I saw that she was about my age and had lovely hazel eyes and copper hair that fell to her shoulders. I tried to think of a way to introduce myself, but before I could say anything, she set down her quill and fixed me with an annoyed expression.
“Took you long enough. Where's the alchemy book?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know what you're talking about.”
“You’re not the operative I sent to Lessel’s house?”
“No, I just arrived in the village. I’m looking for work and I heard you might have tasks that need doing.”
She looked me over, just as Zell had, and her mouth puckered as though she’d bit into a lemon.
“My name is Prezon, and among other things, I hire adventurers to hunt monsters for spell components. But you’re not ready for that. What about rats? Think you can handle a few rats?”
I was disappointed that I'd made such a poor impression on this woman, but I smiled when she said the word rats. Many fantasy games used rat quests to teach players the basics of combat. Rat quests weren’t common in roguelikes, but I wasn’t going to complain.
“Sure, I can handle rats.”
“Good. We’re preparing to move to Encelas, and I’m cataloguing our potion recipes. We’re missing a book that was last borrowed by an alchemist named Lessel. I’d get it myself, but he liked to experiment on his pet rats, and those demon-eyed vermin turn me to jelly. I sent an adventurer to fetch the recipe book days ago, but he hasn’t come back. Get me the book and I’ll pay you instead. Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
“Good. You’ll find Lessel’s house in the northeast corner of the village. Find the recipe book and bring it to me.”
Prezon returned to her ledger. A message in white capital letters scrolled across the bottom of my field of view: QUEST ADDED – RETRIEVE THE RECIPE BOOK FROM LESSEL’S HOUSE.
After leaving the Enclave, I checked the Local Map and saw a new marker in the northeast: Lessel’s House. But I couldn’t go there just yet. I needed equipment, specifically armor. I could fend off two or three rats, but with only six health points, anything more than that would kill me.
⚔
Orla’s Smithy and Supplies had long shelves of weapons, armor, and other types of equipment. I would have liked to spend time browsing through them, but a thick wooden counter blocked the way, and the woman standing behind it radiated quiet ferocity. She was my height and about twice my age, with hair the color of gunmetal. As I approached, she studied me with a squint that reminded me of Clint Eastwood.
“Welcome to Orla’s. Can I help you?”
“I’m looking for armor.”
“I have everything from leather to full plate. What kind of protection do you need?”
“The cheap kind. All I have is 20 copper.”
The corners of Orla’s lips turned downward. “You have two options. First, I have used leather armor that’s slightly better than the clothes you’re wearing.”
“What does it cost?”
“That depends. Do you worship Theris?”
“Who’s Theris?”
Orla clenched her teeth, and I got the impression that she wanted to say something unpleasant. Whatever it was, she thought better of it.
“Theris is the goddess of justice and purity. The Lady of Nature rewards acts of justice and despises necromancy. You wouldn’t be a necromancer, would you?”
Orla uttered necromancer as though it was a terrible curse. I suspected that if I responded in the affirmative, she’d leap over the counter and attack me.
“No ma’am." I raised my hands and shook my head. "I don’t know anything about death magic.”
“Good. Without the discount, the used leather armor costs 12 copper.”
“What’s the second option?”
“Two days ago, a widow from Elinia sold me a full suit of padded armor. Most of it is in good condition, so once I clean and mend it, I’ll be able to sell it for 50 copper. I’ll sell it to you now for 20.”
“Can we compromise?”
“Followers of Theris never compromise.”
I reflected on this. Padded armor would be perfect against rodents, but if I bought it, I wouldn’t be able to afford a weapon or a room for the night. I decided that safety was my top priority—money wouldn’t help if Lessel’s rats tore me to shreds.
“I’ll take the padded armor.”
I took the remaining copper from my purse and formed four stacks of five coins each. Orla nodded and walked briskly to one of the shelves near the east wall.
She returned carrying a breastplate in one hand and hard leather pants in the other. I was impressed at first… but then I saw why she’d sold it at such a discount. There were long gouges in the chest and lower back, and both pieces of armor were covered with caked blood.
She set the armor on the counter and took my stacks of copper coins. My disappointment must have been evident, because her tone grew defensive.
“I told you it requires mending and cleaning. But that’s good armor. Even in its present condition, it will serve its purpose.”
I looked up from my new suit of blood-spattered armor and did my best to smile.
“I’m sure it will.”
A thought struck me as I left the shop. If there were necromancers in this game, then there had to be undead monsters. Mummies? Vampires? Zombies? Whatever was out there, I’d need a lot more than second-hand padded armor.