Finding the Dungeon Portal and checking the resurrection Circle was the easy part. They met Kevin at the hidden entrance to the staff room, still trying to bring it up to snuff. In return for a bit of help via Waverly’s strength and Victor’s acrobatics, he told them he hadn’t seen anyone come in or leave, and that no one had fixed the resurrection circle, either. That was good because it meant the Elf couldn’t have respawned out there and then wandered around the Portal Chamber, possibly stumbling into another dungeon. One disaster averted.
However, it took Victor and Waverly more than an hour to search through the entire Dungeon, introduce themselves to each Monster they met, have some small talk, and very carefully ask if their colleagues had seen any other new monsters today. They all said no, which was a relief, and when Victor and Waverly were finally certain they had checked everywhere, they slipped into that gentle exhaustion you feel after a long day at work.
“Huh,” Victor said, stretching with his arms wide. “Feels surprisingly good.”
“Right?” Waverly asked, tail wagging despite her having to hide a very canine yawn behind her hand. “Feels like you did something today.”
“Oh, we did lots,” Victor said, bringing his stretching to its limits, then letting his arms drop to his side.
“We did a ton,” Waverly agreed. “So let’s go home?” She asked, her enthusiasm showing by way of increased wagging speed.
“Gotta check the graveyard first,” Victor replied. “We’re in luck, though. I asked one of the orcs, Omid…? Yeah, Omid, I think, and the graveyard is only halfway to the adventurer city.”
Waverly’s look of half-horrified, half-resigned incredulity was definitely worth the effort it took to keep a straight face. Eventually, though, Victor couldn’t hold it anymore, and he burst out laughing.
It was definitely still worth it when Waverly started chasing him through the tunnels.
She didn’t stop until Victor stopped, in stitches, raising his hands.
“Ow, ow, ow,” Victor said between kinda painful giggles. “Peace! Peace!”
“Jerk,” Waverly said, gently shoving him so hard that he stumbled a few steps. She was smiling, though. He could hear it in her voice.
“If he revives at the graveyard that means he’s an Adventurer, so he’s fine, right?” Victor asked, enjoying the last dregs of his laughter, despite the cramps that currently set his sides on fire. “Besides, even if you somehow turned him into a monster, he’d be long gone by now.”
Waverly smirked, then grinned. “Actually, now that you mention it, that does seem kinda crazy. Turning a human into a Monster. Hah.”
That dry “hah” was delivered so perfectly, Victor started to crack up again, and this time, Waverly joined in.
—————————————
Oh no. This was not good. Not good at all.
First, Detlef had died to two lone orcs in a beginner Dungeon. Some people might consider that sort of thing humiliating, but Detlef tried really hard to consider it a noble sacrifice. It only half-worked, really. Perhaps he was just the kind of guy who died to level 5 orcs.
Then, however, his worst fears had come true.
You have perished!
Due to the effect of [#TEST THIS OUT LATER, MAYBE?], your level in [Priest of Light] has been reset to [5].
You have lost 65 levels in [Priest of Light].
Due to the effects of [HARDMODE-IDEA! DO NOT ENABLE YET], your resurrection timer has been increased by [65] hours.
Time until Resurrection: 64 hrs, 59 min, 55 sec
As the darkness of Death vanished and was replaced by the dirty gray hues of the [Limbo] debuff, Detlef-Erich let out a deep sigh and slumped to the ground. He couldn’t even feel the floor, but that was okay, he was cold all the time anyhow in this weird state. V.D.O. online certainly was something with all their immersion tech.
Detlef first hugged his knees closer, but when that didn’t really keep him warmer, he just laid on his back, hands by his side. Losing 65 levels was a problem. He had to work a lot, and couldn’t play as much as the other people in Terrence’s Terrors. It was only lucky that Terrence and the group would come in and resurrect him soon. He couldn’t wait the entire 65 hours. Today was Sunday, and he already had too many sick days at work. Well, he said sick days, but it had been hard to tell his clients that he wanted to have the weekends off and wouldn’t take calls to begin with. Sick days weren’t even worth mentioning. Such was the lot of working at an agency.
He really wished he could go back to managing bands instead of solo artists. Sure, you had to travel a lot, but the pay was pretty much the same, and most of the time, the people were actually very nice. Sure, there was a lot of alcohol involved, and drugs too, sometimes, but that was still happening with the new clients, and somehow… somehow they weren’t as driven. Detlef couldn’t really put his finger on it, but when he had to calm the trembling arm of a crack-addicted guitarist in a bucket of ice, the guy seemed genuinely remorseful. Because he wanted to go out there and play, and he realized that the heroin was ruining his chances of doing that, instead of helping. With the new clients, it was all baggy jeans, face tattoos, and not a single ounce of regret, even if it meant disappointing the fans. At least that meant he often worked with new artists…
Ah, here he was, worrying about his work when he was supposed to relax. There was nothing to be concerned about really. Look, there was a message from Terrence, now! He was probably on his way. With a mental command, Detlef opened the blinking icon.
See ya, loser. Go wipe another raid!
And that was it.
If Detlef-Erich’s face could have fallen any more, it would have scraped in the floor. Despite knowing better, he checked the sender of the message again. And yes, it was still Terrence.
Oh no.
You have been removed from the party.
You have been removed from [Terrence’s Terrors].
Tip: Now that you have reached level 5, it might be a good time to join a guild! They are great places to make friends to go on adventures together.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Oh no.
For what felt like an eternity, Detlef-Erich just stood there, with a ghostly world wafting around him, and a few lines of text draped over his mind like an avalanche of purest ice.
First, he felt cold, then he felt warm, then he felt nothing.
With a long sigh, he sat next to his corpse and stared at the timer ticking down slowly. What else was there to do? Sure, he could have logged out, but then what? Go back to his apartment, cook himself some dinner, organize his ties, and watch some TV? That was how he spent his normal evenings, if they weren’t filled with frantic phone calls to organize one amenity or another for his latest client.
No. He’d started playing V.D.O. to do something different. He’d chosen the game because he could be anyone here. In the trailers, there had always been groups of people supporting each other, and overcoming great challenges together. That was what he wanted, to forget that always being on the move for work, and working pretty much 24/7 made him lose touch with what few friends he’d made in college.
He’d come to V.D.O. to make friends.
And yet, it seemed he somehow couldn’t do that.
The last thing he wanted was to sit in his empty, barely furnished flat, where nothing could distract him from the fact that he was pretty much alone.
Okay, sure. He was alone in the game right now, too. But he was Ymmafarin’Malesar, High Elf Priest of the God of Light, and not Detlef-Erich, manager to ungratef— complicated mumble rap stars. Well, Starlets. Hopefuls, really.
His thoughts wandered back to his friends from college. He hadn’t seen them for years, even if you counted the occasional chat via messenger or phone. Perhaps it was no surprise. Work had been so busy, he barely ever reached out on his own. Of course they’d lose interest. He probably should have put in more of an effort.
College… College seemed so long ago. Because it was. Detlef-Erich didn’t even want to count the years. It was probably just rose-tinted glasses, but he imagined things ahd at least been slightly better back then.
If only he could live through that time again. Sure, he’d still be a bit overweight, and he’d still have pockmarks and have allergic reactions to most soaps, but he’d know what to do against most of that. Most importantly, though, he could hang out with people again, just be around them, even if they didn’t talk much, each focused on their own studies or games. He would have a place that didn’t feel like it was actively trying to reject him, which would be good enough.
Ah, he was being too dramatic. He should probably just log out, go home, and get some sleep. Sure, he would spend his days off doing nothing in particular, but sitting around here staring at a respawn timer was just pathe—
[Waverly Bloodhowl] uses [Scroll of Dark Resurrection] on you!
You are now affected by [Scroll of Dark Resurrection].
[High Elf] is not a valid Race for [Scroll of Dark Resurrection].
[High Priest] is not a valid Class for [Scroll of Dark Resurrection].
[Alignment: Light] is not a valid Alignment for [Scroll of Dark Resurrection].
[Scroll of Dark Resurrection] has no effect.
ERROR.
[Fix respawning bug try #27-BETA]: Respawn Bug detected!
[Fix respawning bug try #27-BETA]: Invalid values found.
[Fix respawning bug try #27-BETA]: Resolving…
[Fix respawning bug try #27-BETA]: Race invalid.
You have chosen the race: Dark Elf!
The mysterious and sadistic Dark Elves are most commonly found underground, where they torture their slaves for their own, perverted amusement. Even death offers no respite from their depravity, for once they have flayed the souls from the flesh of what they consider lesser races, they exert their peerless command of the abominable dark arts to entrap the spirits of their victims in soulvessels, extending their gruesome torment to the ends of eternity. The Dark Elve’s greatest enemies are the haughty and foppish High Elves, whose slavery to their feeble God of Light is a mockery of all that it means to be an elf; to be evidently superior.
[Fix respawning bug try #27-BETA]: Fixed.
Error: [DARK ELF] has no value for HUMAN_CLS. Defaulting to 0.
Error: [Game Menu] requires variable HUMAN_CLS to be greater than 0. Disabling.
[Fix respawning bug try #27-BETA]: Class invalid.
You have chosen the class: Stygian Priest
Dark Priests come in many variations. Some offer pain, some offer dark blessings that even knit flesh torn asunder by the most sacred of weaponry. The Stygian Priest in particular revels in doing both, by perverting the very souls of those who once opposed them to their unholy cause. While weak at the start of any encounter, the Stygian Priest begins to excel the moment their enemies begin to perish around them. Through imprisoning the very souls of their foes, breaking them to their will, and drinking of their suffering, the Stygian Priest falls into a perditory ecstasy that unlocks their strongest spells. When such a spell is cast, it uses up all of the Stygian Priest’s stored souls, and the cycle begins anew, another chance for a debauchery of agony and terror.
[Fix respawning bug try #27-BETA]: Fixed.
[Fix respawning bug try #27-BETA]: Alignment invalid.
Your alignment is now: Dark.
Really, really, dark.
[Fix respawning bug try #27-BETA]: Fixed.
[Fix respawning bug try #27-BETA]: Done.
[Fix respawning bug try #27-BETA]: NOTE: If this fails, use another res.
[Fix respawning bug try #27-BETA]: Note to self: Find correct HellPI call to make sure fix runs before first res.
The effects of [Scroll of Dark Resurrection] fade.
Time until Resurrection: 64 hrs, 29 min, 32 sec
Oh no…
—————
“You guys leaving?” Kevin asked them when they arrived at the hidden door. When Waverly nod-nod-nodded, Keven said, “Then watch this!”
He put his palm where Victor suspected the hidden door to be, exactly in the middle of two Torches that hung in especially elaborate holders. At his touch, a blue circle came to life underneath his hand, spreading its glow across the door in a flash. The edges of the door seemed to absorb the light, until it vanished, and the door cracked open with nary a whisper.
“Ohhhhhhh,” Waverly said, putting her palms together in front of her chin in excitement.
“Yo…” Victor agreed.
Kevin gave them a small, playful bow, his Kobold ears flopping forward. “Thank you, thank you!” he said. “Hopefully, that will get me on the good side of the bosses, if they ever come.”
“What’s up with that, by the way?” Victor asked. “People keep mentioning that as if it’s normal for DMs and Bosses to not show up for work.”
“It is,” Kevin said with a shrug. “Well, perhaps not normal, but at least not uncommon. It’s not a real Dungeon anymore, so we don’t technically need a Boss in here, and the last DM just took one look at the place, told us it sucks and to get better, and never came back. Last I heard, he quit and got himself a cushy job as a secret boss in some unsolved puzzle dungeon somewhere.”
“But how did you know about intruders and stuff?” Waverly asked, concern and curiosity warring in her voice. “And who designed the Dungeon improvements, and did loot distribution?”
“Girl, there hasn’t been a single adventurer in this Dungeon for months now. Well, except for that crazy guy today. Wonder what was up with that.”
“Isn’t that boring? Not having any action?” Victor asked before they could start going down that particular rabbit hole.
“Maybe?” Kevin replied, tilting his head and making his ears flop again. “I mean, I got plenty to do, I’m the only mechanic we have, and since the Dungeon lost its auto repair features, I get to earn my pay. The others… they’re good people, but I don’t know. Maybe they got a bit used to the fact they get paid for doing nothing? Don’t think many of them would even want to fight adventurers now, and who’s to blame them? The Bosses clearly don’t care, so why should they?”