DUNN

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“Admittedly I expected somewhat more of a reaction from you,”

I said to Rust Cragbearer the Orcish bartender that owned the 'Bee in the Barrel’. The truth was I didn’t expect him to understand any of what I had just revealed to him but I needed to get it off my chest in one way or another. He stood looking at me with little deviation in the way he cleaned his glass and eventually I gave up.

“Okay then, one more; I’m not driving.” I laughed obnoxiously to a room of confused creatures and waited while he poured me more honey mead. For a moment I considered what the code converted my honey mead to, I mean after all they don’t really have a set limit for alcohol here. Either way I was glad I didn’t program in the ability to ID. I scooped up the drink and walked over to one of the booths in the tavern.

The Bee in the Barrel wasn’t exactly my crown jewel but it was one of my favourite taverns that I had constructed. It had a long bar to the left when you walked in; a hearth on the far wall opposite the front door, a row of booths to the left and tables scattered throughout the floor between the two. It also had rooms upstairs for travelers and a root cellar with some odds and sods. When I reached the booth I proceeded to lay down so my leather boots stuck out. Laying on the wood of the booth, hidden from the rest of the bar populated by the beings of a world created by my own hand I had no other option but to laugh.

When I landed (and I use the word landed pretty loosely but only because appeared sound weird) I stumbled around a little while before coming across Largen, one of the smaller outpost towns in Dunn. It was easy for me to find because, well, I wrote this whole damn thing. I didn’t really know what to do so I thought a drink and a story would sooth my mind and despite surprisingly kind nature of the Orc bartender, I knew he’d been scripted to listen to whatever dialogue the PC’s had for him. So I’d spent the last few hours spilling my guts to him as if he were a priest and I a sinner looking for absolution for my hand in ruining the universe.

On the upside, I wasn’t my lanky, pimple-faced 18 year old self anymore, no; the code must have somehow used my save file to reskin me as my character. So hey, at least I get to be Raydor; the 6 foot 4 human fighter carrying a sword, shield and willful ignorance – oh wait that’s Lester’s addition. Good ole Lester. So here I am, stuck in Dunn, alone and unsure of what to do next. Maybe die? Hmmm I wonder if I can even die… that’s no comfort. So for now I’ll find comfort on this here seat, in this here bar, comfort thy name is 100 years of ass-worn wood. Though, I guess it’s not really 100 years is it? It’s only like that because…

“I PROGRAMMED IT TO BE THAT WAY.” I yelled out across the bar startling a few dwarfs at a nearby table and causing the bard to momentarily stop playing the lute. The crackling of fire could be heard for only a moment before I belted, “CARRY ON,” and everyone continued playing. I smiled to myself and without sitting up reached for my honey mead which sat precariously perched on the corner of the table just above my face. I had been holding it, desperate to keep all mead in the glass, bringing it to my face so I could drink lying down in what I will call “The laziest moment of my life,” when I was startled by a voice at my feet.

“Y-you programmed this?” the voice said as I dismissively lifted the free armor-laden hand I had draped over my face to see a small goblin standing at the booths opening. The goblin’s skin was dark green, his pointed ears framing the leather cap that sat on his large head. His eyes were larger than any other creatures; full and sympathetic. Overall I designed the goblins to be capable, talented and cute. It never sat right with me that Orcs, Goblins, Trolls and the like were deemed the “bad guys” while Elves, Humans and Dwarves were righteous. The real world doesn’t work like that and neither would my game. I had fond memories of Jessica’s take on Tolkien floating through my head when I had designed them and because of her, all classes were neutral in alignment.

With a sigh, I continued to take a sip from my mead, awkwardly drawing mostly foam into my mouth and coughing slightly. Then I placed the mug back on the table and waved him away with my free hand before hiding my eyes from the dim firelight of the bar.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Lester?” The voice said again and this time I sat straight up.   

“Marcus?!” I said with cautious optimism as the small goblin at my feet nodded. I jumped out from the booth and picked him up in both hands; his small body no heavier than a loaf of bread in my hands. Beaming I spun him around the room, his face equal parts confused and relieved. When I had finished my pirouette I set Marcus back down on the table and studied him. Marcus was of course the character he had built in Dunn. In my self-loathing and slightly inebriated state I had completely forgotten how Marcus’s character, the young goblin Rogue, had looked.

“I can’t believe it,” I said eyeing him over, grinning like a lunatic. Not only was I no longer alone; Marcus helped me build this world. These NPC’s were mostly his and so much of the character design was inspired by the way he thought. I hugged him deeply as he stayed anxiously waiting for it to pass.

“Sorry, I know you don’t like that.” I said apologetically but thankful to have someone in this world with me. He, in typical Marcus fashion, didn’t make eye contact but smiled to show that he accepted my apology. I sat down in the booth again, this time with an excitement that I hadn’t had since before all this, and explained to Marcus what had happened. Well, most of what had happened. I told him about the Code and how it could change things, as well as how I accidentally brought Kappa to life, but I didn’t tell him where I found it and he didn’t ask. Beyond that, he didn’t need to know any of the mistakes I had made.

“So that’s where we are, here in Dunn stuck so far as I can tell and I don’t know how to fix it.” I said as the thought truly dawned on me. So far as I could tell, Marcus was here because he had a character in the game, which meant it was going to be a lonely world with just the two of us. Unless…

“Where is Kappa?” he asked as if it was the obvious next question. For a second I hesitated remembering the look on her face as she left the house.

“I’m not sure Marcus, I don’t know if she would even be in here.” I said with honest regret. I had begun to realize things about myself, things that bothered me and one of them was realizing how I treated Kappa differently the minute she changed into a she. Had Kappa wanted to explore our world as how I designed him, or even an 18 year old version of himself, I would’ve been happy - excited even - at the prospect of him seeing what the world has to offer. Yet, hearing those same words from an 18 year old girl felt somehow like rejection. It was the same reason I sympathized with Zach during the D&D game and the same reason I failed Jessica - it was a problem I saw in myself and one I was embarrassed to acknowledge.

“We should find her.” Marcus said and without skipping a beat he stood up and began heading towards the door. Reactively I stood up as well and began to follow as Rust Cragbearer shouted loud enough to startle the entire bar.

“Pay your bill, human.” He said in a tone much more menacing than I had scripted for him. In fact, like Kappa, there were elements of coding, pathing and mannerisms that I didn’t program present in many of the tavern’s folk. Nervously I patted my satchel and felt for my non-existent pockets. As I searched, frantically looking for a solution to this problem, Marcus walked over to the bar, reached into his pocket, and retrieved 5 gold pieces. He stretched his small arm up, high above his head and placed the coins on the wood slab of the bar with a tinny clink. With a grunt the Orc was satisfied and swept them into his open palm.  

“Where did you get money Marcus?” I said half in surprise, half impressed.

“Silas,” he said flatly. With a confused look I scanned the bar as if knowing the name would reveal the patron. I shook my head in confusion.

“I don’t remember an NPC named Silas,” I said as I saw Marcus check the tensile strength of his bow. He looked surprisingly competent; a short Goblin tinkerer prepared for mischief. Without looking at me he said,

“My name here isn’t Marcus, it’s Silas. I have gold because I’ve completed quests.”

I nodded slowly, pursing my lips as I did; Marcus wasn’t just playing a game, he was living it. At first I breathed a heavy sigh but as I watched him check his armaments and ruffle through his rucksack a thought dawned on me. If the code had converted my game into the real world, then the win conditions would also be there. Meaning, unlike life, this game had an end. The thought made me nervous but also hopeful. Maybe the way to set this right again was to beat the game. I studied Marcus, well, Silas as he finished checking and re-checking his adventuring gear and noticed his gold for the second time.

“Well,” I said hopefully, mimicking the actions Silas took without truly understanding what I was checking upon myself, “I suppose we should play the game.”

Silas, and the person I knew to be my brother within, for the first time in a long time smiled a wide, earnest smile.