Did keeping my surcoat white take a manifestation? I mean, it would be one thing if it just didn't get dirty, but the arterial blood gushing from my arm-stump was a totally different matter.

"YOU'RE IN SHOCK; WAKE UP YOU DUMB ASS!"

The incongruous sound of a wise old man's voice shrilling out my buddy's favored insults definitely knocked some of the cobwebs out. Right, time to take out a healing thingy (A blessing of Martin) and stick it to my arm. Glowing light stitched together my arm, and with the pain radiating out, my mind fully cleared. Steve (Old man Zanafast) was spinning in circles, his vaguely Japanese looking swords trailing blood, as small dinosaur creatures (Raptors) collapsed around him. Given my one armed state, I decided to rely on my spells (Esoteric Blessings) to help my friend out. I grasped a common enough looking stone (blessing of Arak, the Stone Warden) from my knapsack (Traveler's pack) and thrust it towards the T-Rex. Said dinosaur had just finished gulping down my arm, and was starting to look rather grumpily at the dinosaur murdering Steven (Old Man Zanafest). A fist of rock, the size of large car, screamed out of the sky.

A few moments later, having recovered from my second sizable shock of the last hour, I observed that the T-Rex was now quite well and truly, well, gone. A nice large splash circle of red made it clear that escape was not the cause of it's absence.

Steve (Old man Zanafest) wandered over. "Hey Steve! Nice sword spinning! Do you know any way to turn this thrice to be damned interface off?"

"What, does it insist on whispering the proper name of everything to you as you think it?"

"Yep. It is very insistent that you are now Old Man Zanafast. I swear my brain burns a little every time I say Steve."

"Well, just stop thinking of me as Steve; I think that's the point."

"Fine. Feels like I'm losing to a machine somehow though."

It occurs to me now, that some explanation might be required. I, now the illustrious Templar Torkrin, was once named Thomas Cromarty. Not once in my twenty-five years had I done something requiring more than a day's notice or attention, and rarely even something requiring that much reaction. Mostly, I gamed. Yep. That's a good enough abbreviation of my life up to my incarnation as Torkrin. When I say incarnation, to be clear, I do not mean that I died and was reincarnated. The truth is much more exciting and much less death filled. I, somehow, succeeded in landing the most prestigious gaming session and/or job ever - I was chosen as a beta tester and contestant for Struggle. A brief name, and the rules were just as brief. If a contestant was accepting into the beta session of Struggle, they would enter into a month long struggle. That was all they said. It was enough to get me excited!

Of course, a few other details leaked out of the pipeline as the contest become more publicly known; Struggle refused to classify itself as a sci-fi simulator, a fantasy simulator, or even as a warfare simulator - the creators would only say that it was a competition at its core. At the heart of each session would be an AI - not a true AI of course, that would be terrifying to all involved - instead an AI in the sense of an incredibly powerful and consistently learning and changing algorithm. This controller would accept spoken requests from users, and respond with manifestations. It was highly touted that manifestations can be anything that the controller wishes, from giant purple lobster allies to a ten-pronged fork. Users would have the ability to attempt to guide their requests, but how the manifestations responded was up to the controller. Prior to the widespread release of Struggle, the beta contest would run for a month. Players had to sign an affidavit that allowed them to remain in virtual space for an unbroken month, except in case of dire emergency. Then the last two bits of news broke: first, that the winners of the contest would receive significant rewards. Those whom the controller deemed at the top percentage of contestants would be given an obscene amount of money, the top ten percentile would receive considerable amounts of money, and the top fifty percent would be allowed to retain their avatars, and play additional sessions prior to the official release. The final news scared plenty of people away - Struggle had variable option settings, but in addition to full time entrance, the contest would happen at fifty percent pain receptors. To be clear, standard pain receptors in all virtual sessions outside of military training is five percent. The crazies play Brutality at the highest known pain percentage known, at thirty percent of reality.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

I signed up, of course, with huge dreams. Then I got in.

Beginning

"You have been incarnated in the land of Zzath as a Paladin. A force for goodness, justice, brightness, and the color white. You serve the many gods, and will be blessed by them accordingly."

Plate armor gleamed as I moved my arms - the stuff was really damn heavy! But, somehow the weight seemed less significant. I was adjusting to the realization that I was now buff, as well as highly religious, when a large rock hit me from behind.

"As you can tell, pain is highly felt in this session. You have acknowledged this setting, and have signed a waiver absolving all other parties from any responsibilities for your health both mental and physical in reality during the duration of this session. If you are uneasy with this situation, please remove yourself from the session now. Doing so at any point will not have any negative consequences aside from your forfeiture of any and all rewards due users after the contest is complete."

Ok. I could accept the pain - even though I could feel swelling in the back of head already due to that damn rock. Some tutorial this was.

"We are now connecting you to the controller for this session. While we are doing so, we will also teleport any persons that have indicated they are allied with you during the session preparation stage."

Steve appeared beside me. Well, I assumed it was Steve, but it didn't look like him. All I saw was an old man, with very deeply sun tanned-skin, wearing loose robes and absolutely festooned with blades. He spoke to me. I totally lost the words he said in the surprise of hearing a very distinctly un-Steve like voice coming from the old man. It sounded like, well, an old man.

"Uh, sorry, what did you say Steve?"

"I said, dude, we're freaking here! Can you believe it? Did you get the whole pain talk again?"

"Yah," I responded, "and I got a rock to the head to. Hurt like a bitch in this plate. I swear my head is still rattling."

Steve looked at my armor. "Which class did you get?"

"They called me a Paladin." I still hadn't really thought about what that meant.

"Awesome! Well, why don't you heal yourself with a spell then? Isn't that something Paladin's do?"

I scratched my head (That is, I tried to scratch my head. the screeching was rather horrible). Besides my armor, I had a bright white surcoat over my chest, and a heavy double-headed axe on my back. I did also have a bag, which clearly had several objects in it. One stood out to me - a small statue of a man, about the right size to hold in one hand. It was notable due to the traditional healer staff he held, complete with a snake. Removing it, I tentatively held it in one hand, while wondering what to do.

"What are you doing?" Steve asked.

"Well, I'm pretty sure this is supposed to heal me. Given my little briefing, I think it's the token of some kind of god. I just don't know how to use it." Just as I finished up my words, a small glow pushed out of the token and washed over my head. The headache disappeared.

"Wow! My Paladin status does not disappoint! Anyways, what happened to you? Do you need healing?"

Looking surprised, Steve recounted his experience. "Well, not really. All that happened with me was a stick fell on me from the tree. Barely felt it, actually. I'm guessing the fact that I felt it at all was the point. I wonder if you got something bigger since you are stuck in that tin can."

This made me slightly less excited about my armor.

"Welcome Torkrin and Zanafest. You have now been connecting with the controller. He will aid you in your Struggle."

"What HO CHAPS! I'm the controller! Just to be clear, if you ask for anything, I will provide it within your class specific bounds. If you ask for something particularly unfitting for your class, well, then I'll have to be exxxxxxtrrrraaaa creative!"

If I hadn't healed already, the strident voice would have made my headache far worse; as it was, there just was some localized pain in my eardrums.

Then a T-Rex ate my arm.