As the elevator rushes downward with the speed of an amusement park ride, a wave of red light passes over me.

"Initializing world E one three three seven…" says a female voice with a bit more sass than I was expecting. I thought all disembodied voices spoke in a monotone. "Commencing reincarnation sequence. Please do not panic. Your death is almost over."

Umm, is there anything more panic-inducing than the statement 'Please do not panic'?

"Burying all memories and associations for Angela Mary Connolly into the sublayer of the soul. Please stand by."

The light pulses over me for several seconds, creating a mild tingling in my temples. I hold up my hand to block it with no noticeable effect.

"One out of one memories have been buried," says the voice. I'm not really sure what she's talking about. "Applying new blank consciousness template."

And that sounds safe.

"Adding gamification layer. Setting stat counts."

Now the light's color changes from red to green, which has me moderately concerned. It passes over me several times, each in increasing intensity. I've never gotten a tattoo, but I imagine what it might feel like to get one directly on your brain.

Once the light switches off, the pain vanishes, and I feel perfectly normal. Better than normal, really.

I feel a fantastic sense of confidence and accomplishment at having my brain intact, but I'm not sure exactly why. Because of this paradox, I decide I test a few thoughts and memories as the voice continues setting up the world.

"Commencing countdown for insertion," she says. "Pouring the oceans…"

Let's see. What's my favorite color? You know, honestly, I'm not sure I have a favorite. Whatever looks good, I guess.

"Raising the hills…"

And yep, I still know the lyrics to Don't Stop Believing by Journey.

"Burying the treasure…"

What about an emotional memory. Hmm. I can still feel that crushing disappointment in the Game of Thrones finale, although I don't entirely remember what I was upset about.

I'm beginning to wonder if human brains are even that good at remembering stuff.

"Floating the ships…"

Oh, ships. That sounds nice.

"Prepare to be ejected, and have a nice life."

The floor whistles open, and I'm pulled out into the open air. All I can see in any direction is blue. Then, as if involuntary skydiving didn't have me moving fast enough, a vacuum tube forms around me, like a giant invisible straw that sucks me downward at hypersonic speed.

And yep, here comes that Goatie McPumpkin-Spice scream again, involuntarily howling from my body like a dragon's breath weapon. But, at least this time, I'm miles above the ocean, and there's nobody to hear it.

Did those sick bastards reincarnate me just to kill me again?

Then I see a tiny spec below, a spec that gets bigger and bigger with each heartbeat. I'm going to land on something, and I find this soothing enough to stop screaming.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

More than that, something in my body fires a jolt of electricity through me, forcing my limbs into motion. I shift my position preparing for a three-point landing: one knee down, one knee bent, one palm to the floor, and the final arm up and behind in the air like I'm riding a rodeo.

Smashing down like that, and yet wholly uninjured, is how I arrive on my starting sloop, except there was nobody around to see how badass I was. Nobody except this poofy-faced monkey who happens to be wearing a loose linen shirt, leather trousers, and a miniature sword attached to its belt.

Okay, I know I just fell like 15 miles through the sky, but whoever gave that monkey a blade, I'm not comfortable with that. These are animals who throw their own poop when they get angry. We should not be dressing them up and definitely not equipping them with martial weapons.

The monkey stares at me with an odd look, somewhere between disdain and ambivalence, when suddenly an upbeat voice forms in my mind and starts talking to me.

Welcome, traveler!

Oh my god, please tell me this monkey is not a telepath. It doesn't exactly sound like what brain-to-brain communication with a monkey seems like it should sound like, but who knows.

Are you ready to sail the Seven Seas, recruit unique crew members, stockpile treasure, and become the Queen of the Pirates?

Am I supposed to answer that out loud, or is that a rhetorical question? Also, Queen of the Pirates? But it does sound awfully enticing.

Except, wait.

Okay, I don't have a mirror, but looking down at myself, everything seems normal. I'm wearing some tight leather pants, but my body resembles my male body from before espresso-maggedon. Reaching a little lower, yep, still going to be peeing standing up and everything.

As a pirate, you skill up and learn new abilities through practice. You also advance and receive rewards based on the choices you make.

This is your ship. She's a sloop—small, maneuverable, and you can man her by yourself. Complete sailing tasks and recruit a crew to level up your ship and earn upgrades, including larger, more formidable vessels.

This part goes on for a while, consisting mainly of the monkey wandering around and pointing at things while the voice in my head tells me what they do. It's pretty straightforward. The sloop has a sail, an anchor, and a wheel to steer at the helm.

Under the helm is a small captain's room which is where things got interesting. Now, at this point, I'm still not sure if the monkey is talking in my mind or if he's like an assistant to the voice who is in charge of the pointing, like the people on airplanes who demonstrate the safety video. Either he's the source of the voice, or he can hear it.

In the captain's room is a map stand with some navigation tools, but the map was a live map. It has a little drawing of my ship, along with a dotted line where it had been.

Your map shows you only what you know.

Based on the map, we are generally headed in the direction of a small island shaped like a banana.

The captain's room also has a table with a miniature model of the ship on a stand. It's a perfect replica. When I pick up the model, an interface overlays itself on my vision, showing me various stats about my ship, the ranks of various components, even the design of the sails, hull, and bow.

Access your ship menu to configure upgrades and set the ship design.

There's also a floor-to-ceiling armory cabinet. When I open it, I find a pistol and a cutlass. I quickly grab both, fastening them to my belt, but there's much more room in the cabinet for other weapons.

Store and upgrade your weapons here.

Below deck, a dim lantern swings with the rhythm of the ocean, casting dancing shadows off of what little is there. It is a small living quarters consisting mainly of barrels, a hammock, and a small table with a stool.

I return to the deck.

"Okay, monkey. Do you have a name?"

The monkey nods in the affirmative.

"Can you tell me what it is?"

The monkey shakes his head.

"Can you talk at all?"

He shakes his head again, then starts hooting, and waving his hands, and pointing back and forth between himself and me. I have no clue what he is trying to tell me.

After squinting and staring at him for about five seconds, the voice returns.

Concentrate with your mind's eye to access crew member menus.

My forehead tingles, so I give it a shot, picturing an eye in that part of my head and imaging that I can see more information about the monkey.

It works, thank Christ.

It turns out his name is Rufus.

Crewmate acquired!

Name: Rufus

Race: Monkey

Class: Useless

Level: 1

Talents:

- Hyperintelligence

- Locate and consume food

- Understand all languages

As soon as I stop concentrating on him, his stat block disappears from view.

So this is it, huh? That guy wasn't lying when he said gamification. It seems I've been reincarnated into some kind of pirate simulator. What could go wrong?

The beta aspect worries me a tad, like all the stuff about becoming Queen of the Pirates. I've played plenty of beta games, but this is life, man. Hopefully, they'll quickly work out the kinks, and I won't bug out or anything.

I have monkey companion, and my ship is coming up on—

Well, yes, an island. But the correct answer, more specifically, is the sneaky, jagged, hull-cracking rocks that precede said island.