Chapter 6: The Stream

Over the next few hours, we scoured the nearby brush for small creatures we could kill for easy Experience Points. Miguel and I agreed that the Hell Panther was probably Level 10, which meant we were incalculably lucky to have survived. We needed to level up quickly before the next real foe, whatever it might be.

Fortunately, the game did provide classic fodder for early leveling. Chihuahua-sized beetles emerged from the mud, requiring a single strike with my sword or Miguel’s stone dagger. We managed to take out a dozen of them without a single injury, not that it would have mattered. The losses to our Health bars would have been miniscule, and this particular game used automatic healing when outside of combat. Obviously, we would need potions to heal during battle, but we were hoping to get much stronger before that happened – especially since we hadn’t looted a single potion or seen any sign of crafting abilities.

Once we had grinded to Level 5, we got bolder and inspected a few boulders farther off the path. The shadows usually meant darker creatures, in this case small spiders – or small by video game standards. They were barely bigger than the beetles, meaning their web-spitting and massive parents were probably only found in caves.

The mini-spiders were equally easy to defeat, but they did attack in packs – usually five or six. But with both of us stabbing and slicing away, we could take out a group of them with just a few minor injuries. And while they only provided the same small XP amounts as the beetles, the fact that they were in groups allowed both of us to reach Level 7 by mid-day.

While resting in the shade of a boulder that had provided almost twenty spiders to battle, we discussed what we should expect next.

“There has to be a camp,” Miguel said.

“Definitely,” I responded. “It’s just weird that it’s taking this long. I would have expected it almost right away. It would be a natural way to show save mechanics, basic crafting, and maybe even explain some lore. I know survival games have a real ‘figure it out’ mentality, but the RPG elements should have introduced some world building by now. Where are we? Who are we? Why are we here?”

“I know,” Miguel agreed. “At some point, purpose beyond survival has to be provided. Where’s the wise old man, the tattered book of lore, the fleeing villagers who scream out who the bad guys are? Something.”

It was comforting that we both felt it. Obviously, games did their best to be unique, but they had to work on the same basic foundations. It was like movies using the three-act structure. I had seen thousands of films in my life, and none had ever wavered from that absolute rule. Games were the same, and while we may not even recognize all the tropes and givens, we did notice when they weren’t there. And something – several somethings in fact – were missing.

“I’m starving,” Miguel whined, quickly pivoting from the existential to the essential.

“Me too,” I assured him. “But I’m not eating raw meat until we know how to counter the effects. And like you said, we have to find a camp soon. We will cook up the Hell Panther and beetle meat, and presumably the capsules will feed the real us’s.”

There were nine things wrong with that sentence, not least of which was pluralizing us, but it had all been normalized by how abnormal the situation was.

“Fine,” Miguel gave in. “But I at least need to refill my canteen. I’m sweating out everything I drink – which I guess explains why you never have to piss in video games.”

That revelation seemed weirder to me than beetle meat or double-pluralized pronouns. I had felt fear, pain, anger, and thirst – but the lack of other basic needs hadn’t crossed my mind. And once it did, and I imagined myself sitting in the matrix capsule, I instantly dismissed it from my mind. I’d rather think about giant spiders.

“Sure,” I responded. “I’ll watch your back while you go to the stream, and then we’ll switch.”

There had been water running somewhat nearby periodically throughout the day, but we hadn’t wandered that far from the path. A general rule is that the farther you go from the road, the more dangerous it gets, and we weren’t ready for that. But the water was clear and moving, which meant we didn’t need to worry about lake hags or bog monsters.

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

Miguel approached the water with the proper amount of caution, while I surveyed his surroundings before turning my back to his to watch the road.

“Wow, that’s incredible,” Miguel called over his shoulder. “I can feel not just the coolness of the water, but the flow. It’s such a complex combination. I can’t imagine the tech involved in generating it.”

While Miguel’s specialty was financial technology, he had enough of a general understanding of programming and even neurotech to recognize the marvel we were experiencing. The total immersion in this reality could easily make us forget, the way I’m sure fish stop noticing the water, but these little moments shocked us back into the appropriate level of awe.

As I glanced back to see the swirls and eddies of the water, details no game had ever captured effectively, partly because of graphic limitations and partly because fluid dynamics were more than a little complicated, I caught a flash of something out of the corner of my eye.

“Holy fuuuuu,” Miguel managed before falling back toward me with a thud.

I spun around to see a golden viper perched menacingly a foot off the ground, having emerged from a tuft of tall grass near the water’s edge. It weaved its head slightly and flicked a forked tongue a few times, but then it quickly began a second lightning-quick strike toward Miguel, this time well above his injured leg.

Fortunately, my hand was already on my sword, and a lucky swing through the air in front of Miguel’s face caught the snake just before reaching him. It fell in wriggling halves at his feet, still a threat despite the blow. So I brought my sword down again, this time at its head, ending its movement and the danger.

“Daaaaaamn that hurt!” Miguel yelled, rolling onto his side and clutching at his left leg. I could see two pin pricks in his leg, but that obviously wasn’t indicative of his level of pain, which seemed to hover somewhere between excruciating and please-put-me-out-of-my-misery.

“So you’re saying the pain is realistic,” I commented, leaning over him.

Miguel grabbed me by burlap collar and pulled me close to his grimacing face.

“I will drown you in this stream if you don’t shut the hell up and fix this immediately.”

Miguel was notoriously grumpy when bitten by vipers.

“On it,” I assured him, even though his Health bar was well above half.

My gaming brain kicked in, and in lieu of a health potion, a brightly colored flower should be nearby that was placed there specifically for this encounter. Problem and solution were inevitably in close proximity.

Unfortunately, there were a number of flowers and herbs, and none of them had that distinctive “I’m for picking and eating” look about it. As I glanced back toward the grass that had produced the snake, thinking they might literally have been right next to each other, I saw something that told me I should pick up my pace: Miguel’s Health bar was dropping, now below half.

That meant he had been both injured and poisoned, which is not unusual with snakes, but it seemed early in the game for poisoning. We didn’t even have potions yet. But once again, the game had broken unwritten rules, which sent me darting around the small meadow looking for a flower that stood out, in any way at all.

“Thirty percent,” Miguel called.

Damn, that was fast. Poisoning is one thing, but it should take hours to be deadly, not minutes. This game was kind of pissing me off.

Moments later, “Twenty-five percent,” Miguel yelled, his voice louder but steady.

Finally, I saw it. An unusual flower, taller than the rest, and in the exact same gold as the snake’s skin. Unfortunately, it was on the other side of the stream and near turbulent rapids.

But there was no choice. I trudged into the water, holding my balance against the current, doing my best to rush toward the antidote.

Just as I made it to the other side, Miguel called, “Fifteen percent,” this time his voice sluggish and muted.

As I ran back with the flower in my hand, I watched Miguel’s Health bar drop steadily lower, his eyes drooping in an almost matching fashion.

Finally reaching him, and unsure of the correct way to administer the antidote, I tore the flower in half and simultaneously pressed part of it against the wound and the rest into his mouth, which he had just opened to say, “Fiiiive Perccce…”

I held my breath and stared at his Health bar, which was barely there at all. But it remained. It stayed at precisely just above death.

With several remaining flowers to choose from, I couldn’t risk poisoning him in an effort to heal him, so we had to wait for the automatic renewal. And it was in no rush.

After ten minutes, his Health bar had crept back up to a third. He was alert again and no longer in pain. Apparently, the antidote cured him and eliminated his suffering.

“Thanks, bro,” he managed.

“Of course,” I responded, not mentioning that I had also finally hit Level 9.

“How does your leg feel?” I asked.

“It’s fine. Like it never happened,” he said, noticeably surprised, rubbing at where the bite had been.

“Then why the hell are we still sitting in the snake pit, dumbass?”

“Fair point,” he agreed, standing up and dusting off his rags, more out of habit than vanity.

We walked back to the road, where I said, “Maybe next time you just stay thirsty.”

“Damn it, my canteen,” he moaned, instantly heading back to the spot of his near-death experience.

I stayed where I was. Until I remembered I hadn’t filled mine either.

Maybe we weren’t good at video games.