Chapter 3

“What the fuck?” I shouted.

When Larry’s gun had blown apart my skull, I expected pain. What I got instead was a picture of my headless body lying on the floor of Eve’s bathroom. My head was a gory mess.

When the photograph faded, I spent another brief moment as a disembodied group of thoughts before everything went dark.

The darkness was almost instantly replaced by the feeling of grass under me. The world shifted and I was laying on my back. I could feel the sun beaming down on my face.

I opened my eyes and sat up to take in my surroundings. The town wasn’t far and I could make out its outline. I was in the woods and near a trail. Further away from the trail was a group of bushes that seemed thick enough to hide behind.

I needed more information before I marched back into Easter.

The HUD was open and I kept an eye on the map as I crouched and began searching through my pockets and satchel. The holster only seemed to have my Farmer’s Pistol and nothing else. The pockets on my britches were empty except for a pocket watch. I looked at it, but I had no idea what time it had been previously, so it didn’t do anything to confirm what Eve had told me about the hour cooldown time after getting killed.

The satchel was another story. It was a small leather pouch with a flap over it and a thin piece of leather that I had been wearing over one shoulder and across my chest. Opening it turned on a display that overrode my HUD, replacing it with an inventory set of checkboxes. It was opaque, letting me still see the world around me. From what I could tell, there was no limit to how many things I could put into the satchel, but that could just be because I hadn’t hit that limit yet.

The bag had 5 of what it called Jerky Strips, a Lantern, a Campfire Kit, and a bottle labeled Opened Brandy.

Digital or not, I could feel the pangs of hunger and mentally selected the Jerky Strips. As I did, my HUD vanished and I watched as my hand reached into the bag and pulled out the meat.

Again, I found myself surprised by how real everything felt and looked. I needed to get over that. This was my new reality and gawking every time something looked neat was going to get me killed.

The taste was exactly how I expected the meat to taste, based on how it looked. I couldn’t figure out which memory of mine it was pulling from, or if it even was. When I swallowed, my HUD popped back up and I saw that my health hadn’t been at max, sitting somewhere around 90%.

About when the meat hit my stomach, I saw my health gauge blink and grow until it was back at the 100% level. It was a slow process, with the entire health regeneration taking about 10 seconds.

Food offered healing, although gradual. That was good to know. A lot of this stuff was likely outlined in that journal Eve had mentioned to me, but I preferred to learn by doing.

Chewing on the jerky gave my mind enough background noise for my brain to kick into gear and start planning. This was how I handled daily chores when I had been alive. Either an audio book, the television, or music needed to be playing. Once that was taken care of, I could plan the work and then work my plan.

First up was learning as much as I could about this new world. This might be the wild west, but there was a gaming element influenced by modern culture that made this place unpredictable. When I was alive, I would have pulled up my phone and searched for the information I needed, but that wasn’t available to me anymore.

The HUD came back up as I willed it and I expanded the map to look at the surrounding area. Eve had been right and I was about a mile outside of Easter. I could make out a few of the players and non-playable characters from the city. The non-playable characters, or NPC’s, came up as gray tear drops while the other players, like myself, came up as blue.

Except RadicalLarry19 had been red. I didn’t know if that was because he was the attacking party from the “raid,” as Eve had called it, or if it was because he was specifically hostile toward me.

Not for the first time, I wished I had selected a different game.

I wasn’t going to get answers popping a squat in the woods. Closing my map, I stood from my hiding place and marched back toward Easter.

The surrounding environment was so incredibly realistic that it was easy to forget my new circumstances. This was a digital world, but it didn't feel that way at all. It made me question the reality that I had come from. Maybe there was something to all those simulation theory conspiracies.

My march toward Easter was only distracted by the world around me. A flower growing out of the grass with large purple petals caught my attention. Bending down, I tore it from the ground and was surprised by how real even that felt.

+5 XP

The alert flashed in the upper left side of my vision, even though the HUD was down. Seeing that, I brought up my HUD and examined the flower.

It said, "Violet Snowdrop," with not much else.

My experience bar had moved too. Instead of the 0/150 is had read before, it now said 5/150.

That made me think, did everything give you experience? Could I gain some levels just by picking flowers?

At 5 experience per flower, that was going to be a lot of flowers. Looking around, I couldn't see any more of the purple petals.

I did see a rabbit, though.

It stood there in the middle of the field to my right. So close to the town of Easter, but not near anyone. I didn't know the different types of rabbits in the world, so no names floated to the top of my head. It was small, brown, with a white tail and ears that seemed longer than I was expecting.

The little bunny wasn't real, I kept telling myself. Just a digital creation.

I had no problem with hunting or killing animals in the sense that we needed food to eat. The problem came when it was up to me. The thought of taking the cute bunny's life made my emotions bubble to the surface. This might be a digital world with no human deaths, but it was hard to see this world as almost too real and as a game at the same time.

I forced a mental shrug and continued aiming down the barrel. It was no different than those fifty or so mice that Tyler and I had hunted in our second home.

One winter, the entire place had been overrun. Tyler had suggested I use peanut butter on the traps, but I had a better idea. I put Nutella on half of the traps after I wrote my name on them. Tyler rose to the competition and our little pest problem became a contest.

That I won.

I aimed the pistol much as I had against RadicalLarry19, except that this time I wasn't about to get killed. The rabbit was pawing at the ground and not moving much.

I squeezed the trigger and the gun jerked. The noise had been as loud as I remembered, but the kickback wasn't. The gun barely moved, choosing to lift a little. It affected the aim, but not much else.

+10 XP

"Only 10?" I stood up and walked to where the dead rabbit was. The happiness that I felt from hitting the rabbit was replaced quickly by my frustration over the only 10 experience I received.

I was still looking at my HUD and my experience bar when I made it to the dead animal. That was why I noticed when an option came up.

Skin animal?

There was no yes or no option, just the question. I knelt down to pick it up and felt my satchel get heavier. I looked down and saw that my knife was sticking out of the open flap.

I have never skinned anything in my entire life, but for some reason the knowledge on how to do it was there at the surface of my mind. The 'yes' option highlighted and selected. Beffore I could stop myself the knife was in my hand and the rabbit was skinned. I didn't know how realistic the process was, but I was mostly surprised by the amount of blood. It felt like there should be more as I tore the skin off of the animal with my brute force and shoved the skin into my satchel where it disappeared. I cut off two chunks of meat and automatically wrapped them in stained leather that my hands also pulled from the satchel. When they were wrapped, I shoved them into the satchel too.

So, that was how you got meat in Wicked West.

+10 Skinning XP

Skinning XP? Did that mean that I could level up certain skills, too? Did bigger animals increase the amount of experience I received from skinning?

My HUD had gone up by 10, as well. Specialized experience points counted toward my overall level, it would seem.

Picking flowers, skinning animals, killing assholes, and who knew what else all added to my experience total. Maybe I shouldn't have been so worried about the small amounts of experience.

I put the knife away, realizing in the back of my mind that my hands were entirely back under my control, and started walking again.

The part of town that I came in next to was the large barn that must be the town stables. There was an icon on my map for it in the shape of a horseshoe, but there was a lock on that icon, too. For whatever reason, I hadn't unlocked a horse or the ability to care for one.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

The road I came up to cut in front of the stables with a branch to the left. If I continued straight, it looked like the road would take me around the town and to the envelope on my map. That must be the post office.

The road to the left looked like the main street in any town, except covered in dirt and horse shit. Each side of the road was lined with different wood and stone buildings, the fanciest of which looked to be a hotel.

My first thought was to head there, but I remembered a lot of noise coming from somewhere when Eve had been talking to me. I looked around until I saw the sign that fit the memory.

Then I went into the saloon. It was appropriately placed almost directly across the street from the hotel. Past that, I saw a sign for a doctor and a badge on a sign that I took to understand as the sheriff's office.

And yes, walking through the double doors of the saloon was the coolest thing that had happened so far.

I pushed them open and walked in slowly. I half expected every head to slowly turn my direction, but nobody seemed to care. They probably saw me on their minimaps.

People sat at tables and the piano was still playing. It looked as crowded as I expected it should be in the middle of the night, but a quick glance at my pocket watch showed that it was closer to 6 am.

As I walked toward the bar and sat down, I pulled up my own minimap and assessed the bar. I should have done this before even coming into Easter. You don't survive if you aren't more paranoid than I was being. The patrons at the tables were a mix of NPC's and players, while only two players were upstairs. The closest players, a group of two playing cards at a nearby table, had their hands on their pistols. They looked like hobos, covered in dirt and grime and torn clothes. With my HUD up, I could see their names and used that to look up their levels.

TommyGunZZZ

Level 16

21225/22110 XP

Profession: Gold Digger

Freya_Trippin

Level 19

33705/38070 XP

Profession: Mountain Man

Freya, the only woman player in the bar besides me, seemed to relax when she saw that I wasn't reaching for my gun. Tommy didn't, but his hand never inched closer to the pistol either.

The bar stool hadn't touched my ass yet, and the bartender was in front of me.

He was a bald man with a thick mustache and a stained apron.

"What can I get ya?" his voice was deep and rough.

"A shot of whiskey, please," I said.

He poured me a glass and I saw as fifty cents removed itself from my money at the top of my HUD.

The drink was smooth, and reminded me of another time that Tyler and I had been out on the town. Except this time, it reminded me of the time that we went to Vegas.

Was every drink going to be a blast to the past? If so, I didn't know if it would turn me into a complete alcoholic or if I might quit the stuff entirely.

I leaned away from the bar and that was when I saw Eve. She was wiping down an empty table and picking up the dirty glasses from it. My feet were on the floor and over to her before I knew what I was even doing.

"Eve," I spoke quickly. "What the hell happened last night?"

Eve straightened and looked at me with her eyebrown raised. That was when I saw that her eyes seemed different somehow. Like someone else was behind them.

"You're a noob, then?" she asked with a thick southern accent.

"Um," I stuttered as my confidence drained out of my feet. "Yes," I managed. "We met last night." I let out a heavy sigh. "A little over an hour ago."

"You poor thing," she said. "You were killed during the raid?"

I nodded. "So were you," my voice was low and quiet.

"Yes and no," she said. "I am not Eve. I'm a retired player. I help Stu manage the bar." She thrust out her hand to me and I shook it. "I'm Marcy."

"Sam," I gave, still confused.

Marcy seemed to understand this and attempted to explain. "Eve possesses my body sometimes to assist with getting new players spun up. The raid made things complicated, so she probably hopped in there," she pointed to her head, "to give you the quickest rundown she could before you got, well, rundown."

"Do you know where I could find Eve?"

Marcy frowned. "That's not how it works. She isn't in the game."

"Then where is she?" Marcy thought she was helping, but this was only making my head spin.

"She's the first of us," Marcy said. "A digital person, downloaded to the system. She helps us figure out this new world and then she's mostly hands off. She would have mailed you some extra stuff that you can get at the post office. That might help you with a lot of your questions."

"How do I get in touch with her?" I asked. "I've got a lot of a questions that I don't think I'll find the answers to at the post office."

Marcy shook her head. "How'd you find answers in the 'real world'?"

This had been a question that had been pissing me off about choosing the wild west setting that I had. Modern conveniences were no longer available to me.

"I would Google it."

Marcy snickered. "Before Google? Do you remember before Google?"

My eyes rolled so hard, I thought I might hurt myself. I was almost 90 years old. I remembered jokes about Prince Albert in a can, penny candies, and the Reagan years.

"Yes," I said instead.

Marcy was loving this conversation and the grin on her face was beginning to wear on me.

"Well, silly, how did you learn things before Google?"

"Libraries, watching the news, asking questions."

"Bingo! Except the nearest library is in Saint Emile, and that's a few days' ride. And we don't even have radios out here, although the phonograph in the hotel is almost the same."

"So, I need to ask around if I want answers?" Marcy was a little much and I was ready to move on to the next victim of my questioning.

"Go to the hotel, get a room for the night and start there." Marcy said before adding, "Good luck."

"You're a retired player," I said. "Can't you help me?"

"Honey," she smiled at me, but didn't stop wiping the table. "I just did."

The hotel was across the street, but crossing it was both a joke and a nightmare. My map was filled with the blue teardrops of other players and as I stepped out of the saloon, I could see every eye either turning to evaluate me, or already mid-evaluation on someone else nearby. Death not being permanent meant that anybody could fuck you up without much of a moral obligation, but I would still lose an hour and have to walk back to town. To them, I was an experience farm.

On the other hand, so were they and I think that’s the only thing that kept them in check.

If this environment of fear was ever going to stop ruling my new life it wouldn’t be until after I had gained enough levels to handle myself.

I had to force my grip to relax on my pistol and kept mumbling to myself, “Please don’t kill me, please don’t kill me.” Judging by some of the looks I was getting, I had a feeling this was going to be my mantra for at least the next few levels.

Stepping out into the mud of the street, I allowed a little distraction. Players were riding horses, driving wagons, sitting in covered carriages, and, in one case, being dragged behind and laughing as he was pulled through the mud behind a horse. This game let us do or ride anything and that meant opportunities. If I could wrap my head around the mechanics of this place and what we could do, maybe I could stay alive longer than not.

The hotel was nicer than the rest of the buildings with what looked like a fresh coat of paint. I stepped in to see a man sweeping the floor directly in front of the stairs to the second floor. The main lobby was small with a reception desk and two chairs in the corners. When facing the hotel desk, the stairs were to the right and to the left was a hall covered by a curtain. The hotel proprietor looked up and smiled when I came in.

His clothes were a mix of browns, with a jacket over a tight vest. He wore small, round glasses and what I could only think of as a red ascot, like Fred from Scooby Doo. It probably wasn’t an ascot, or called that, but I didn’t know the name.

“Good morning,” he set the broom against the wall and slid behind the desk. “Victim of the raid, I’m guessing?”

I nodded. “Killed within the first ten minutes of arriving.”

He frowned. “Then you likely only have the usual starter sum of money, unless you went to the store or the saloon first?”

“Close enough,” I agreed. In an old habit, I stuck out my hand. He flinched and quickly tried to hide it behind a smile.”Uh, I’m Sammy.”

“Yes,” he grabbed my hand and shook. “I’m Hubert. Hubert Clark. Would you be looking for a room then?”

“Until I can figure out what I am doing here.” I hooked my thumb over my shoulder, toward the saloon. “Marcy told me to come by here and see about getting a room, but she also seemed to think that I could find some answers here.”

Hubert scoffed, turning to grab a key and set it on the desk. “Marcy could have told you the same thing that I will.” He nodded to where my grip still rested against my gun in its holster. “That’s a good habit to get into. That’s your first bit of advice: a lot of players would rather kill you for the experience than play nice.” His hand was still resting on the key. “The room will be a dollar for tonight.”

The moment that I thought that wasn’t a bad price, I had a dollar in my hand and my HUD showed my total sum dropping. I handed the cash to Hubert and he slid the key over to me.

“Fifty cents and I’ll give you the best piece of advice you’ll get today.”

I sighed and mentally agreed, letting fifty cents appear in my hand.

As he took it, he said, “You know what, I’m generous. Here’s two pieces of advice. The first is to get yourself to the post office. A lot of information will be there, but so will a lot of rewards for leveling. That’s stuff you can use.”

I had heard as much many times already and decided to start heading that way soon.

“And the second piece of advice?” I asked.

Hubert pointed out the window to the barn I had passed on my way into town.

“Go to the stables sometime today and they’ll give you a horse-stealing job. It is kind of a beginner’s quest to help you get used to horses and jobs, so they’ll give you the horse when you complete it and a good chunk of experience, too.”

I frowned, shaking my head almost immediately. “Breaking the law is how you get shot.”

Hubert laughed. “No, breaking the law is how you make money. Existing in this world is how you get shot.” He winked and added, “The trick is to keep something between you and the bullets.” he sighed. “The law in Wicked West, or at least in Easter, is a joke. It exists to hound players, but mostly acts as a negative reputation experience farm. Break the law, the cops come, you mow them down, I have to raise my prices for just you and everyone frowns and says nasty things when you walk by. Reputation is important, but there’s nothing in this game you can’t buy.”

That was a lot to unpack. I figured he was talking about that neutral face in my HUD. So, reputation had a direct effect on not just how people treated me, but also the cost of goods. That, combined with how useless the law sounded, meant that I needed to keep my head down, but I also had no one to look out for me but me. Did the police care if I shot someone in self-defense? If they didn’t, reputation wouldn’t be easy to manage, at the very least.

I put another fifty cents on the desk. “You gave me more than two pieces of information. Thank you.”

A smiling cowboy face appeared in my notifications along with the words:

Reputation Increased.

Being a decent person was rewarded. That was also good to know.

“Thank you,” Hubert pocketed the coins. “Your room is this way.”

He led me upstairs and into the first room to the right of them. It was better than I expected for a dollar with a twin sized bed, a fireplace, a chair, and a nightstand. The bed was directly under the window, and I didn’t like that at all, but I would figure something out.

Before Hubert shut the door and left me with my new room, he repeated, quietly, “The only law worth a damn in Easter is your gun. Do the quest.”