19 years ago, Aesir corporation unveiled the gateway project. They had finally discovered a method to fully upload the human conciousness into a machine. The first few to enter were hailed as the first immortals, and the VR world they lived in was perfect, and catered to their every need. Adventure, romance, thrills, games, this world had it all. But soon the trial participants grew bored.

Their lives were too perfect. They had nothing to strive for, nothing to fear, nothing to lose. The machine simulated a full thousand years in this world in the time it took the rest of us to live through one. And noone was more frustrated than the project lead. He proposed that the afterlife wasn't truly worth living unless there was challenge, diversity, fear and achievement. And the board of directors agreed. The bored, weary husks who wished for death weren't exactly a good advertisement for their product. And so the game was born.

Project gateway was renamed Valheim, and it became the greatest undertaking of mankind; a new world, larger and more fantastical than any we could have imagined. The greatest game designers, geologists, physicists, architects, biologists, every revered specialist in a field that had anything to do with the planet, life, or virtual world creation was interviewed. Those deemed to be among the best in their field were offered something never heard of before, the chance to be a god in a new world. Volcanologists who had spent their entire lives studying volcanoes, always observing, were suddenly offered the chance to bring them to life. They had been consulted of course for many VR games in the past, but the chance to build it with their own hands was entirely unheard of. Biologists were tasked with creating new life, limits on genetic experimentation, cloning, and environmental protection were erased. A truly limitless opportunity for science. Dungeon designers were sent to wander the world, seeding the wilderness with all manner of caves, ruins and lairs. Architects were given mountains of concept art, and commissioned to build wonders of nature and craftsmanship. And the participants thrived. Continents were formed, cities raised, and the world populated with the best AI technology could create. But still it wasn't enough.

A few hundred volunteers were admitted to the program, but as time flew past, they each departed. Always by choice. After a few hundred years, they grew weary and chose to pass on. They didn't feel truly alive. And so began the second revolution of Valheim. Aesir developed a gateway which didn't require the destruction of the original brain. Hundreds of people were scanned in an attempt to build up a library of human consciousness. These minds were duplicated many times, and thrust into the world. The NPC's were NPC's no longer, now no different than the human participants. But because they were "artificially" created, the creator was able to give them natural lives, and the ability to die. The natural human lifespan was doubled, but they still aged and died. At first there was anger, and rebellion from the residents. They didn't believe that they were copies. Not at first. But a few generations passed, and new minds were born, a mixture of genetics of the parents and infant minds from the library were used to allow birth. And the people thrived. Their lives were hard at times, but many were able to find true happiness. And Aesir discovered the secret of a life with purpose. There could be no happiness without sadness, no life without death. And so all participants in the study were given mortal lives. All of this took less than two years. But again, the creator grew bored. He took the name of Odin, and the real game began.

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In an instant color returned to the world, but not the whole world. Just a blue box in the middle of his sight.

Welcome to Valheim, your party is waiting. Do you wish to join them, or proceed alone?Join partyProceed alone.

"Join party!"

Transferring

He felt something shift, it wasn't something that could be quantified, but he felt in his gut that he had moved, but nothing had changed. That is until he turned and saw someone next to him.

"Alex!" He cried out

The woman jumped, and turned towards him, "Mark! Mark what happened! Why did it say welcome to Valheim? We can't be dead!"

"Alex... that man..."

"Who? What? You mean that guy from the bar? We were just talking to him, where did he go?"

"I don't know... we stopped to ask if he needed help, then some other men showed up, and just started shooting. We ended up in the hospital... and I made a deal with the reaper... I'm so sorry... This is our life now..."

"No... Mark..." She began to cry, and Marcus finally cried as well. They had died, horrible deaths, and suddenly were thrust back to life, in a way. They were left to their grief for a few minutes, and as their sobs began to subside, a room materialized around them. It was a sizable corner office on the top floor of a high rise building with a view of New York City from the beginning of the 21st century. Bookshelves and metal file cabinets lined the walls, and a dark leather couch appeared behind them. Ahead was a refined man in a fine blue suit with neatly parted brown hair, purple eyes, and just enough stubble to be noticeable. He was seated at an old but well cared for birch desk. He quietly gestured for the recovering couple to take a seat on the couch. They slowly settled into the couch, finding it far more comfortable than they expected. The man in the suit spoke out, in a calm friendly voice. "Welcome to Valheim. My name is Charon, and I will be handling your admission and rebirth today. Do you have any questions?"

Two solemn faces and the slightest head shaking was his only reply

"Splendid. Alexandra and Marcus, right? It seems we have two Class 20 tickets, and a small sum of 3 Aurels. Is that correct?"

Mark nodded slowly, while Alex grimaced as she realized their situation.

"Wonderful. Now you have a few decisions to make before I send you on your way. You may choose between the following races; Human, Lesser Undead, Moleman, and Marshil. Do you already have one in mind or would you like me to describe your options."

"Human, definitely human." Alex replied meekly.

"A bit disappointing, but predictable. That is the popular choice at tier 20. Next up is your appearance. The default is for you to appear the same as you did in your previous life. For 1 Aurel per alteration, you may change your appearance. Would you like to make any changes?"

Marcus answered after a brief moment of regret, "No... We can't afford to."

"One final choice, the only places currently accepting tier 20 applicants are mining and lumber towns, fishing, farming and pioneer villages, militaries, and guard outposts. Of course, you may also start in the wilderness, but you don't have enough Aurels to buy citizenship in a major city."

"Where should we go Alex? I don't know how to fight... and I don't want to be a miner."

"the coast, or a farming village I think... Do you know how to fish?"

"You know I never learned to swim. I've never been out on the water."

"A farming village then. I'm sure we can learn."

"Not a bad choice. A farming village offers the chance of a peaceful life and honest work. We do have a few to choose from; Andersville in the north. It is in the middle of a fertile plain, but the surrounding area is infested with Gnolls. Mirfield from the South-East, the land is hard but they have fended off the local Ogres quite well. The final village is Chilton in the Eastern highlands, at the edge of Human civilization. They have not yet encountered any large groups of sentient monsters, but it was recently founded, and only has 37 residents."

"Gnolls... ogres... how could anyone survive like that? What do we do Mark?"

"We go to Chilton. We work hard, save up, and move to a city, where it's safe."

"There aren't many people there... do you think we can do it?"

"We have to... I can't imagine being attacked by monsters every day. At least there we have a chance to live in peace."

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

"Ok. Chilton it is."

"Very well. Two basic Humans, 3 Aurels, and starting in Chilton, a frontier village on the outskirts of the Toren Kingdom. Our business is complete. Best of luck in your new lives."

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March 23, 5319 A.A.

As soon as the last syllable had reached their ears, the high-rise office melted around them. In its place, twelve small buildings sprung up around them. They were simple cabins, recently built from the nearby pine trees. They stood in what seemed to be the center of the small village. Feet, now covered in simple leather shoes, stood upon a thin dirt road running through the center of the settlement. The settlement was built on a small mesa, just above the mouth of a river which opened up into a pristine lake. A sturdy palisade wall hedged in the cluster of buildings. The great green forest loomed, massive ancient pines filled the horizon above the wall, but majestic, snow capped mountains towered over the green giants. Most were distant, but their titanic scale left him awestruck. Sheer cliffs and dangerously steep mountainsides rose thousands of feet to surround the valley. The clean mountain air rushed into Mark's lungs with each breath, a sensation foreign to a man who had lived his whole life in a congested city. There was a repetitive hammering noise coming from one of the closest buildings, a sound of metal pounding metal over and over again. Birds chirped, the distinctive roar of rushing water reached his ears. As he tried to take in the sudden change in scenery, Mark noticed a man in front of one of the houses. He was not simply large, he was huge, and his well muscled body was wet with sweat. The man, wearing only loose brown pants and boots, leaned on a long axe as he stared at the new arrivals. The sizable stockpile of firewood nearby showed he had been busily chopping wood until the disruption of their arrival. The sturdy villager sighed as he realized he had been spotted. Resting the formidable axe on his pile of wood, he strode down the short walk from his home. "All the rest are working, so i guess it's up to me to greet you. Welcome to the ass end of nowhere. You must be some of the new bodies the old man requested."

"Yeah... I guess we are. This valley is beautiful, I've never seen anything like it." Mark replied.

"Sure looks nice, but you'll be missing the city when you see what's out in those woods."

"It can't be that bad. Charon said this village didn't have monsters." Mark confidently argued.

"There isn't a single inch of this damn world that doesn't have a monster lurking just out of sight. You've been lied to boy."

"Mark... He only said they hadn't found any large groups of intelligent monsters... that leaves small groups and lesser monsters..." Alex meekly corrected

"Well, he was right about that I suppose. Though I wouldn't call those wolves stupid. You had best learn to take care of yourselves. This valley is no place for the weak."

"We will manage. Not much choice now.." Mark mumbled.

"You don't get it, do you? You are weak. You know nothing of this world. You are both going to die here."

Mark could only respond with silence, and a look of terrible realization. He had made a mistake. They were in a tiny outpost, far from any semblance of civilization, and with only a few dozen people around them. Life here would be hard, if they could survive at all.

"Damnit Liam. Don't be such an ass. You should know better than anyone how terrible dying can be. Back off." An old man had come upon them while they had been busy speaking with the first man.

"What does it matter? They wont last long. He doesn't know a damn thing about surviving in the wild, and neither of them has never worked a single day in their entire lives. Even your old rotting eyes could see that much. Why did you waste our obols on these outlanders?"

"You know damn well why Liam. We barely survived this winter, and ate through all of the supplies we brought with us. We need the help. There aren't enough of us. Now go back to your wood, and leave them to me."

Liam glared at the old man, but did as he was told. He turned and trudged back to his lumber pile. Mark could only stare. It was all overwhelming. He had died less than 30 minutes ago, but it seemed the old man wasn't about to give him a reprieve just yet. "I am sorry about Liam, but this winter was hard on us all. We nearly starved, and Liam's best friend was devoured by wolves during one of their hunts. We had plenty of obols, so we brought his friend back, but agony like that leaves scars on the mind."

"Brought him back? How..." Mark stammered, more confused than ever.

"They really don't tell you outsiders much about this world do they? Obols are our most valuable currency. One coin is worth one life. You can restore yourself to youth, revive a fallen friend, or summon new villagers, such as yourselves. Also, just having one in your possession guaranties you will be revived if you should perish. Regardless, they are nearly priceless."

"How... How do we get these coins?"

"There are a few ways. The first method depends on your class. A warrior must kill, a hunter must hunt, and and blacksmith must craft. It's daunting, but if you dedicate yourself to your task, you should be able to make one. The higher the risk involved in the profession, the easier they are to get. You will also receive one for mastering your class. The final methods I know of are being the leader of a town, or gifts from a god. A leader receives obols as part of his tax budget, depending on the prosperity of the village. As for the last one, normally receiving obols from a god is very difficult, but we founded this village under the guidance of a lesser god, and his avatar resides here. He is expending all of his power to ensure the success of our village in exchange for our loyalty and protection. That is how we were able to summon you, and there will be several more outlanders arriving."

"I don't have a class... but why does a god need your protection? And who are you?" Mark demanded.

"I am responsible for every man, woman and child here. I am the founder qnd leader of this village, Dorian Riler. As for Vidar, our god, that is a bit complicated. Gods are no different than you or I. They might have far more power, but they are either wealthy outlanders or ascended residents. Their power depends on the number of followers they have, and they have a mortal avatar who resides here amongst us. Some gods crave power, and kill weaker gods to gain strength. By making a pact with the village, we are able to gain unimaginable divine aid in return for making him the patron saint of our village. Out in the wilderness he can grow in power along with us. Right now, his avatar is weak, barely stronger than a group of our best hunters. So we protect him for the sake of our future, and his."

"This world is insane."

"I'm inclined to agree, yet we live here. So theres not much else to do but get used to it. Enough of that, we must decide on your class. What did you do in your past life, on Earth? What skills do you have?"

"I was a telephone customer service representative. As for my skills, I did some construction work building houses when I was younger. It's been a long time, but I still know my way around a hammer."

"Customer service... on a phone? We have phones, but I've never heard of someone commissioning an enchanter to make one just to talk to customers. Regardless, such skills are useless here. Now a craftsman, that we can use."

"It's been a long time... but I guess I'll do the best I can."

"Alright then, give me a moment. Open citizen menu, Marcus" As Dorian spoke, he began to quickly navigate the window, although invisible to Mark he had some idea what was going on. Suddenly, another window appeared.

New ClassThe Craftsman class has been offered to you by Dorian Riler, lord of Chilton village. The cratsman class requires patience and fiesse to turn raw materials into useful items. Would you like to accept the Craftsman class?YesNo