Let me clarify.
When I say that my bartender was an octopus, I don’t mean that he wobbled around on eight oozy legs and shot ink at anyone who looked like a threat (though perhaps he does). I mean he was a two-legged man on the bottom, and a human-octopus-wombo-combo on top.
I couldn’t see any gills, which made sense, because he wasn’t dunking his head in a fish-tank every minute or so.
“What kenna getcha, mate?”
Woah. Further clarification needed — my bartender was an Australian octopus-man-wombo-combo.
“Just a water, please. I don’t know how to access my money.”
“Can’t give ya water if ya can’t pay, mate. Sorry bout that, you look like a dog inna desert.”
“Isn’t water free?”
“Pshh. Water’s bout the most expensive thing we got! I could get you a tankard of Milhouse’s latest creation — folks might pay to watch you drink it.”
Huh. Either Bill’s Yard was in a drought, or the octopus was pulling my leg. I’d be here all day if I did the same to him.
“Right, sorry. Can I pay any other way? I’ll polish the glasses and sweep the floors if you’d like.”
His front tentacles rose and curled under his chin. He was either contemplating the idea or preparing to spray me.
“We’re running out of our best beer. How do you feel about running and grabbing another keg?”
“Sure. Where’s that? Out the back?”
“You could say that.”
I followed him ‘out the back’ into a basement. The roof was held up by several shoddy mud pillars, and various implements lined the dirt walls. A tiled area in the back housed open-top wine barrels filled with soil. I went closer and was surprised to see a plant sprouting tiny limbs up into the air, clinging to cracks in the bricks. Its leaves were indigo and shaped like swords.
“This is the first basement. As ya can see, stock standard. What I’m boutta show you is not. Now, I’m goin out onna limb here by trusting you, but let me tell ya, if you break that trust by, I dunno, coming back and stealing this stuff, those blokes out there won’t hesitate to get me back my money’s worth. Sound good?”
“I suppose so.”
“Great.”
He held out a tentacle, and I shook it. Immediately, a notification spread out from the corner of my vision.
Quest Accepted!
‘Keg Search’
Reward(s)
+50 EXP
+10 Friendship (Otto)
Hell. Yeah.
Whether 50 EXP was a drop in the bucket or enough to propel me up a level, I didn’t care. I’d accepted my first quest, making me as real of a B&B player as anyone else.
This is it.
The octopus — I assumed he was Otto — poked two tentacles in random positions on the mud wall, and a hidden mechanism whirled. Gears clanked and something screeched as a miniscule hole formed. It stretched until it was barely more than a foot in width, then stopped.
“Ah. Looks like the door needs a bit of maintenance?” I said.
“Whaddya mean?” Otto replied. “That’s it. Second basement through there.”
“Oh. Am I supposed to fit through that?”
“Mhm. It’s built for me of course, and I can squeeze through just about anything, but you’ll manage.”
It looked dark in the second basement. If I wasn’t in a disposable character with only a couple hours of playtime, I would’ve turned on my heel and told Otto to cancel the quest.
But duty called, and no one else had offered me 50 EXP and their Friendship, so I got down on my knees and poked my head in the gap.
“Light switch on your left there. You’re looking for Indie’s Pale Ale.”
I fumbled around the dank wall with trepidation. Spiders weren’t my best friends, and I wasn’t excited to meet any other creepy crawlies of this world.
Eventually, I hit a button. There was a spark somewhere in the darkness that ignited into a healthy flame throwing dancing light out over the room.
“And don’t forget ta switch it off after. That flame heats up the room too much. Spoils the product.”
I turned to ask him how on earth I’d get a keg out of the hole, but he was gone. His patrons would be thirsty without him.
My slim shoulders got through the door with minimal sweat and tears, but my hips weren’t so fortunate. I couldn’t shimmy around in the same way as my arms could, so for a moment, I was stuck. I heaved this way, and squeezed that way, but progress was hard to come by.
Eventually, a gargantuan effort got me through, though a chunk of the door mechanism came with me. I loosely affixed it back in its place, feeling guilty.
“Don’t tell Otto, alright? Cheers.”
I stood up, craning my neck so I didn’t smack the roof. With my luck, I’d go straight through it and collapse the ceiling.
The ‘kegs’ were not what I’d expected. Instead of the traditional stubby-barrel things we had back home, these were twelve-foot-long perfectly cylindrical containers with a tap at the bottom. They were about a foot wide, just a bit thinner than the diameter of the door.
My search for Indie’s Pale Ale began. The basement was long, and I had to roll over some of the columns of beer to find their tags. After deciding it was too much effort, I paced the thin walkway between the two rows, trying to spot my quandary without having to do all the heavy lifting.
I reached the far wall where the flame burned. Still empty-handed.
And so, with no small amount of cursing, I lifted, rolled, and heaved every ‘keg’ in the place until at long last, sitting right in the middle of the pack, I found Indie’s Pale Ale.
Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.
I was pretty sure the body heat I’d exerted would have warmed the atmosphere by a couple degrees, but that wasn’t my issue to deal with. Otto could chuck a few bags of ice in here and call it a day.
My next challenge was extracting the thing. It was horizontal to the door, so I hoisted one end up on my shoulder and dragged it from its original seat. The other kegs rolled in to the new space, explaining why the tags weren’t all perfectly readable from the get-go.
I could feel the strain in my legs and back, which I hadn’t stopped to consider. My real body was currently lying motionless, devoid of any movement, but the feeling of exertion still came through.
Would I wake up feeling like I’d done an intense workout? I hoped not.
I dragged onwards, limited by the height of the roof. Placing the keg on the lip of the door was monumental, and I allowed myself a short rest. I thought about waiting for Otto to come down and check on me, and possibly help out, but I didn’t want to jeopardise my EXP gain by making my quest-giver contribute to their own quest.
Probably not how it works, but I ain’t game to find out.
The other end of the keg rested on some of its brethren. I used their support to roll the keg into the first basement, like a ship entering the ocean on rollers. I slowed down just before the tipping point, not eager to jolt the beer around and cause an explosion.
Pushing the keg the rest of the way wasn’t too bad. It was quite satisfying to slide my way through the door, turn off the torch, and prepare to collect my rewards.
I assumed my new-and-improved dragging stance and made my way to the main room like a heretic carrying their cross. A swift kick set the door wide open, and I entered the pub to the noise of overeager, drunk patrons. I wondered if my Friendship with these folks would tangentially go up, just by doing them a favour.
Probably not. B&B isn’t a sunshine-and-rainbows kind of place.
Otto stopped pouring to watch my alcoholic odyssey. He seemed amused, like he was proud of himself for pawning off the shitty job on the unsuspecting newbie.
“Just over here, thanks mate. And flip her up, if you could.”
“You’re joking.”
“Yeah nah mate, just get her under the bench here — yep, not bad.”
He attached a piece of hose to the tap then grabbed the nearest tankard. A hand-pump sat on the bar, and he pushed it up and down until a frothy amber liquid spurted from the end.
“Here ya go, you can have first dibs. Always a bit frothy at the start.”
I would’ve preferred water, but I didn’t want to be rude. I had a sip, forced it down, and a notification appeared.
Ingested: {Indie’s Pale Ale}
+2 Strength
+1 Endurance
-2 Restoration
A net +1 wasn’t bad at all, especially when the –2 in Restoration wouldn’t matter to me. In fact, my Restoration would be in the negative.
I finished my drink and placed it down. I received no further buffs, which was slightly disappointing.
Otto took the tankard. “Cheers for the help, mate. By the way, you can access your money by shouting ‘System! Balance!’. Might be useful.”
“Oh, thanks. System! Balance!”
Nothing happened, except for several people giving me curious glances.
“Ahhh, gotcha!”
“You little—”
I laughed, and Otto slapped me on the shoulder.
“Not bad, not bad. Consider your quest complete.”
Quest Complete!
‘Keg Search’
Reward(s)
+50 EXP
+10 Friendship (Otto)
I didn’t know how to track either of my rewards, but I was happy to receive them. I wondered if Joey, Annette and Duri had completed their first quests yet, or if they’d headed straight out to slice up monsters like the NPC-hating bloke I’d met earlier.
With perfect timing, a notification appeared in the corner of my vision. It was a message from Annette.
[Hullo! Worked out the messaging system. Make a triangle with your thumbs and pointers, then push out from your chest.]
I did as I was told, feeling as foolish as when Otto pranked me. At least this one wasn’t so verbal.
Sure enough, as I pushed out from my chest, another screen bloomed. It started small — almost see-through — but as my arms outstretched, it grew until it blocked a decent part of my vision. I’d have to change that later.
The interface was exactly what you’d expect from a messaging system. Annette’s name and character sat in a space on the left, and selecting her name pulled up our meagre chat history on the right. I tapped out a message using the keyboard in my vision. Would’ve looked ridiculous, but telepathy wasn’t on the menu.
[Weird! Knew you’d save the day. How you goin?]
It took a while for her to reply. No doubt she was carving up a troll or looting ancient treasure.
[Not bad. Too many people to get much done. Saw Duri for a moment before he got swept off by the crowd. Joey already kitted-out. You?]
[Got Bill’s Yard lol. No monsters in sight, but did a quest in a pub.]
[Amazing! Gotta go, people going crazy bout smthn]
I could only imagine what would cause Elthen Fields players to go crazy. Probably not a keg of ale.
Wondering where to go next, I sent a quick message to Joey to congratulate him on his early success. He must’ve been too busy to reply.
A few stragglers came into the pub and saw the room full of NPCs, assumed I was one too, then left.
I poked my head out the door to gaze up the street. Most of the crowd had dissipated, which made it a decent time for me to check out Bill’s actual Yard — like, his front yard. They really should’ve called the spawn zone ‘Bill’s Township’, because the double-up just made it confusing.
The town NPCs avoided me like children avoid brussels sprouts. I experimented with them by going just inside their ‘spook zone’ then stepping out once they started to leave. I managed to suspend one in their doorway by hopping in and out of their zone, which was a hoot.
I took my time returning to the city-centre. The rabid crowd had exited the premises, which allowed me to appreciate my new home a bit more.
It was rustic, certainly, but it had a tinge of that country-town homely vibe, which I appreciated. The streets were clean except for the dust, and from afar the NPCs were friendly to one another. I wouldn’t have to worry about a civil war breaking out, because the biggest problem for these guys — aside from the drought — was working out whose straw hat had blown onto whoever’s porch.
After the positive encounter with Otto, I intended on talking to as many NPCs as I could. Whether that Friendship would come in handy remained to be seen.
I made it to where the crowd had gathered earlier, assuming it was Bill’s. I’d definitely skipped lunch in the real world, but I’d make this quick and get back for dinner.
“Howdy!” I called, cringing at my cowboy accent instantly. “Is Bill around? Hello?”
In front of me was a decrepit blue and red barn, standing proudly on rickety walls despite the holes. The barn door was splitting at about chest height, like a stampede of animals had charged into it.
After a bit of snooping around and battering on doors that didn’t deserve the stress, a man came around the corner. He wore a patchwork flannel shirt that should’ve been put to rest a long time ago, and his hat was as holey as the barn. He slapped his cheeks as he approached, as though he’d just woken from an afternoon nap.
“Howdy. Name’s Bill. You didn’t come through with the rest of ‘em?”
Bill’s AI was understandably advanced. It seemed strange to have NPCs understand that we were ‘players’, as to them if would be like aliens visiting their world and asking for directions to their most lethal territories.
“Hi Bill. No, I didn’t like the crowd, so I went to Otto’s pub and helped out for a bit.”
“Oh! You’re Otto’s friend! He told me about you, said you were The First.”
He said ‘The First’ as though it was a big deal. I didn’t mind being first for once, so I didn’t question the title. I also didn’t question how Otto could’ve possibly contacted Bill since I’d done his quest.
“In fact,” he continued, “as a thank you, I’d like to offer you a special quest.”
A special quest! I wondered how much EXP I’d receive. Judging by my first quest, this would be ‘Feed the cows’, or ‘Repaint the Barn.’
“Sure! I’ll take it.”
“You don’t want to know what it is first?”
“Nope. I’ll take anything.”
“Very well.”
Bill hesitated, then held out his hand. I shook it, and the quest notification appeared.
Quest Accepted!
‘Liberate the Yard’
Reward(s)
+4000 EXP
+50 Friendship (Bill’s Yard citizens)
Title: Bard of the Yard
Item: Bill’s Sunhat
Oh snap.