Sunday was a free day where I was able to do more practical testing of the new features. I accepted all of the quests for the day and started from the easiest ones. Once I had finished each quest, I refreshed it to see what popped up. I then accepted the new quest and followed the same process.
What I found with testing was important for understanding how to exploit it in the future. I was reasonably sure that if a particular requirement—such as running—was included in one quest, it wouldn’t appear in another. That meant I would be able to block quests I didn’t want to do so that better ones would roll or at least choose not to complete some quests until after I had done as much as I could with the other available quests.
I also noticed that while I wouldn’t always get the same quest as one I had finished, it was possible to get the same—or a similar—one. A quick quest that repeated a few times in a row could be a boon for me. Finally, I saw how sometimes daily or weekly quests would switch to weekly or daily respectively. I didn’t much mind since many of the weekly ones were doable in a day or two—provided they were doable in the first place.
I concluded my testing Sunday night and figured that I would gain about 35 experience per day on average compared to how it was before I’d purchased the features—a little over fifteen percent more! That wasn’t the massive gain I’d hoped for. However, the ones for Quests II and Quests III were likely to provide more value overall as I had to wait a long time between refreshed otherwise in comparison to daily and weekly time frames.
I decided to talk with Mom Sunday evening. I explained what I’d been up to with the new features and the results of testing.
“Mom,” I said, “It feels like I’m spinning my wheels. I know I’m not, but it’s frustratingly slow!”
“You’re not going to save the world overnight,” Mom said in a calming voice. “I know it’s hard on you to feel like it’s all on you. And so what if it is? You’ve been doing this for less than a year already and look at how much you’ve accomplished!”
“But—“
“No ‘but’s! You’re doing a great job. Maybe you just need another break?”
“I would if I could, but—“
“I said no ‘but’s!” Mom laughed. “What you just said is exactly how you know you need a break.”
Mom paused to think before she continued.
“Maybe not a full break with school going on, but maybe pare back some of the more demanding quests for a while? Maybe focus on just one hobby at a time—like sewing instead of writing. At least for a month or two to get some of the stress to dissipate, you know?”
“I know,” I agreed.
Mom was right. I’d been pushing pretty hard since I got back from the beach six months earlier.
“How about we go skiing this weekend?”
“Sure,” I shrugged.
I turned to go but that was when I remembered what I needed to talk to Mom about.
“Oh, I almost forgot. Did Grandpa Joe talk to you about what the Dean said?”
“Yes.”
“So… what should I do? I think it’s the best way for me to finish school without having to go into debt I’ll never be able to pay off.”
“I agree,” she said, “but you’ve got to be careful. The university’s a place you’ll need to live full time and I’m not sure how they can arrange to keep you safe. I’ll be going with you to the meeting instead of Grandpa Joe.”
“Are you sure? What about work?”
“Work can wait. Your safety matters much more. Plus, I already requested off for that day.”
“Alright,” I said.
I hoped it would work out. I really wanted to get the most out of the long term quest.
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Saturday morning, Mom woke me early. I yawned as I got dressed. I didn’t put on all of my layers, but I was dressed warmly and packed the top layers into the car to put on when we got there.
The closest ski area wasn’t too far but at the same time, it wasn’t that close, either. Mom and I listened to tunes in the car for a little over an hour before we got to our destination. With the recent snow, the sides of the roads still had large snow banks that were streakily painted brown and black by mud and soot.
Mom parked in the ski area’s lot. The place wasn’t full but it also wasn’t empty either. I figured there would be enough room for us to ski without much waiting around in lines. I got out of the car while putting on the rest of my cold weather gear. Then I followed Mom towards the main area.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
The main building was made to look like a Swiss chalet. Beyond that were several ski lifts and cleared trails of varying difficulty. I saw several snow machines higher up on the mountain spewing icy snow to increase the depth of the snow pack and to allow for contoured grading of the slope.
The inside of the main building was rather barren. There was a counter to purchase lift tickets and another to rent skis and boots. A bank of lockers ran the length of one of the walls. Other than that, the floor had a couple of benches and vending machines. Mom started by getting the lift tickets. She helped me attach mine to my jacket’s zipper with a special metal hook that went through the eye of the zipper. A sticker covered the metal and displayed the date and duration of the ticket.
Then we walked over to get kitted out for the day. The man behind the counter helped size us both for skis and for boots. I took my boots, skis, and poles to one of the benches. The process of putting the boots on was just as much of a pain as I remembered. While I hadn’t been skiing in forever, I did remember the boots. Once ratcheted down, I had no ankle movement, which made walking forward difficult.
Mom and I put our normal shoes into a locker and stuffed the key into Mom’s pants. From there, we took the skis and poles outside. There were a couple rubber mats where people were expected to put on—and later take off—their skis. I grabbed a wooden rail for balance when I went to put the skis on. When both were secure, I followed Mom unsteadily.
“How comfortable are you skiing?” Mom asked.
I bent my head side to side.
“Ok I guess?” I answered. “It’s been a long time.”
“Then let’s start with the bunny hill and move up to something harder later?”
“Sure.”
The bunny hill was located on the far right of the mountain. I skied behind Mom past two lifts before we ending up at the bunny hill. The bunny hill had a conveyor belt to step on and a rope to hold that brought the skier to the top. The slope was very shallow so there wasn’t much danger in actually crashing as long as I kept my balance.
“I’ll follow you,” Mom said when we reached the top of the hill.
I wedged my skis into a pizza shape to get a feel for controlling them again. The first run down the hill was slow, but subsequent runs were faster as I gained confidence. After a handful of runs down the bunny hill, I felt like I was able to control myself well enough to go up the mountain, which I indicated to Mom.
The lift directly adjacent to the bunny hill went straight to the top of the mountain. There was a small line of skiers and snowboarders in front of us waiting for their turn to ride the chair. The chairs were wide enough for two people and had an automatic crossbar that dropped into place as soon as the chair began moving up the mountain. The chairs were made of wood and hung from moving wires.
Soon enough, it was our turn. I found it difficult to get onto the chair because I had to be quick to get on the chair before it moved up the hill and because the height of the chair was hard to reach given my height. Thankfully, one of the attendants assisted by lifting me onto the chair before the crossbar came down.
The ride up the mountain was bouncy. The skis on my feet were heavy without any real support that I could reach—Mom was able to rest hers against the support bar. The chair moved at a brisk walking pace and climbed high above the trees and the trails. I looked down some fifty feet to watch the little people whizzing down the mountain. I saw two people take a jump—one landed a nice trick while the other crashed spectacularly, losing a ski that skidded away.
Five minutes later, we reached the top. As the chair came to the top, the safety bar rose away. Mom reminded me to lift my skis so they wouldn’t dig into the snow. Then, when the ground came up to meet me, I slipped off the chair and rode down the small ramp to the top area.
I read a trail map at the top. It was a large wooden sign painted to show the difficulty of the trails. Next to that trail map sign was another sign that indicated the direction and distance of the trailheads for the trails. I found a lower difficulty trail that seemed to weave back and forth down the mountain.
“Let’s do that one,” I said, showing it to Mom.
“I’ll follow you,” she said.
The entrance to the trail was to our right at the far edge. I passed by a very steep hill that scared me just to peer down. I kept a bit farther away just in case. Slipping down one of those was the last thing I wanted. The trail I wanted was the one after the scary slope. I turned down it and began to weave back and forth across the steeper parts.
The trail flattened out some—and even rose higher in places—as it crossed the mountain. There were signs of caution every so often where our trail crossed with others. It went across the mountain and back several times. Sometimes I needed to gather enough speed to make it up and over a rise—very thrilling—and other times I’d need to ensure I didn’t go too fast.
About halfway down the slope, another of the lifts terminated there to service many of the lower trails. In the same location was a lodge. Since it had been almost 2 hours by this point, I pointed it out to Mom.
“Can we stop for a bit?” I asked.
“Sure. Want some hot chocolate and something to eat?”
“Yeah! I’ll take chicken strips or whatever else they’ve got that looks good. Should I grab us a table?”
Mom nodded.
Outside of the lodge was one of those rubber mats like had been at the main building at the bottom. As soon as I slid onto the rubber, I unclipped my boots from the skis. I stuck them in the snow outside the door along with my polls and walked inside. The lodge was small inside. It had a handful of tables and a place to buy food. I sat down at one of the tables to wait for Mom.
The food took a little while to prepare. While we waited, I sipped on the hot chocolate. The first sip burnt my tongue—as did the next sip… and the one after that. I drank some water to cool my tongue and to rehydrate. Eventually, the food arrived. It was bland and required lots of honey mustard to be edible. The now cooler hot chocolate tasted much better than it had any right to—especially as it tasted like it’d come from powder.
I ate while talking with Mom. She’d been right. I had needed a break. My only hope was that this break didn’t introduce more things that could be options for quests since I was unlikely to ever be able to do them.
After eating—and an all important bathroom break—we suited back up and finished going down the mountain. We went up and back down another two times before Mom was too tired to continue. I was beginning to feel exhaustion as well, but I figured I had another run in me. Sadly, she forbade me from going without her just in case.
I turned in my skis and poles and boots. I felt a strong sense of relief when I finally got the boots off. I’d gotten used to the restrictions placed on me and yet, when it was removed, it felt so freeing. With my normal shoes on—and my feel still a bit damp—I hopped in the car for the ride home.