I sat on the smooth earthen path till the moons set and the horizon lightened. Sitting there I was processing what had happened to me as was safe for the first time since I had landed in this game. What I wouldn't do for an instruction manual or a starting guide. A help feature would be really appreciated.
I was staring mindlessly at the remnants of the 'rabbit', I jumped when a wolf came out of the shadows to lick the grass clean. How many XP would one of those be worth? I bet it would be worth a lot. But the idea of trying to take it on seemed ludicrous.
The wolf ignored me. Now that I wasn't afraid or running, I was boring.
I liked being boring.
It was a different forest in the morning with the sun dancing on the dew-soaked leaves, all the dark shadows and gloom dissolving like a bad dream upon waking. The hue of the leaves ranged from deep emerald to vibrant, almost neon green, where the light shone from behind. There was little undergrowth under the canopy of trees, I could see pretty far into the forest's tranquil-looking depths. Deceptively peaceful, I scowled at the trees, those wolves were still out there.
I swatted at small flying insects as I walked along the path. I felt it was rude that the protection mechanism didn't protect me from bugs. The game developers also rudely included sweat, I was hot and sweaty by midday. The bugs were tiny, but their bites felt like hot irons jabbing into my skin, and the holes they left oozed little trickles of blood, which, in turn attracted more bugs.
I started running again just to try to stay ahead of them. It kind of worked. It seems they could keep up but had a hard time landing if I was moving quickly.
I was hungry, but in an abstract sort of way. Did I need to eat in here, and if so how was I going to food?
Mid-afternoon, the path opened up into a large clearing. In that large clearing was the most wonderful thing—a house.
It was like out of an old storybook. High-peaked thatched roof, white-washed walls. An overgrown garden around the front door and a vegetable garden out behind. To my utter delight, there was a steady wisp of smoke rising from the chimney.
Would there be an old crone, aka an evil witch, inside?
I knocked on the door. I could hear humming coming from inside—decidedly masculine humming. A witch could be male, I supposed. But that was a bit genre-bending for such an obvious setting.
The heavy wooden door swung open to a smiling, friendly face of a peasant. I can't think of any other way to describe him. Everything about him screamed medieval peasant, from his round, pleasant face to the tunic and rustic leather sock-like shoes.
Not likely a witch.
"Hello, fair maiden," He said. "You look hot and tired. Would you like to come in? I can offer you sustenance and respite."
Who spoke like this? Sustenance and respite? "Why not," I said and entered the cottage.
YOU HAVE ENTERED A SAFE HOUSE!
Oh, shit that was hard to see around. I blinked my eyes multiple times to try to clear my vision. I mean, I was glad I was safe and all, but that was really disconcerting. At least it confirmed he wasn't an evil witch.
Once I could see again, I looked around. The interior of the cottage was just like it's inhabitant exactly what one would expect if you imagined a generic but aesthetic medieval cottage.
There big rough-hewn trestle table along one wall with two sturdy chair, herbs hanging from the beams, and a stone fireplace with a kettle over the fire. The smell of wood smoke and bread was a nice touch. If there were an IKEA catalogue for a cozy medieval room, this would be the model.
I sat down at the table, and the man handed me a mug of tea. I took a sip. I immediately felt.. .better. The bites didn't sting and itch as much. I took a bigger sip. I waited. Nothing more happened.
"My name is Wendel," the man introduced himself.
I blinked up at him as he blinked back at me.
"Hi, Wendel. My name is Elizabeth."
He smiled as if I had said something very important. "Pleased to meet you, Elizabeth. I am so glad you managed to find my cottage. It is dangerous out there. Would you like to rest now?"
I took another sip. I think I was feeling a little better. My feet didn't ache so much. Would a rest heal me up? I did get the notification that this was a safe house so I should have nothing to worry about.
"Yes. That would be lovely." I said and finished the tea—just in case it was the tea and not this quaint cottage that was doing the healing heavy lifting.
Wendel led me to a room off to the side. It was clearly a guest room. It had nothing in that was personalised and yet looked utterly inviting. A small but well-made bed, a basin with a jug of water, a nightstand with a candle and a big window with drapes to pull across for darkness.
I thanked him, and he left, closing the door behind him. I used the basin and the cloth to wash myself as best I could and climbed into the bed. It was surprisingly comfortable. I had been expecting a mattress with straw, cushioning yet pokey. But this, this was feathers, down! It was like sleeping on a cloud.
I was out before I could marvel at the luxury in such a humble cottage.
The next morning, I awoke, and it took a good few moments to realize where I was. My pillow smelled wrong and the bird song out my window was foreign.
Then I remembered, I was in a game. Maybe I could just stay here? This bed was very comfy.
There was a knock on the door. "I have made porridge for you to break your fast with, traveller."
"Go away; I am sleeping," I called out grumpily.
There was silence. But that wasn't a good sign, that meant he hadn't walked away and was still standing by the door.
Not a minute later, there was a knock. "I have made porridge for you to break your fast with, traveller."
I groaned and stuffed the pillow over my head.
Another minute passed, and the knock and offer of breakfast was repeated.
"Ok, Ok, I am coming out. I just need to get dressed first."
His slow heavy footsteps moved away from the door. I sighed. I wondered how long he would leave me alone to 'get dressed.' Could I go back to sleep?
I groaned, my bladder was signalling me urgently. That wasn't fair. This was just a game. I didn't have a real bladder. But just as the pain from the bites had felt real, so did this.
I got up and found that there were new clothes for me. I felt pleased to have some adventuring-appropriate garments, but the idea that Wendel came in whilst I was sleeping was a bit creepy.
I kept my modern undergarments but left the useless little tshirt and skort on the bed. My clothes were an outfit of rough spun material, a cotton or linen, surprisingly comfortable and airy despite covering me from head to toe. The brown trousers fit loosely around my hips and the light tan coloured tunic-like top came down well past my waist. There was a leather belt. I was confused as the trousers had no belt loops. Then I thought back to how Wendel was dressed. Right! The belt went over the tunic.
I looked down at myself. I was ready to attend a renfair. Some fantasy nerd or larper would pay really good money for an outfit like this. I wish it came with a complimentary turkey leg.
First order of business was to visit the outhouse. It had very little smell and was as adorable as the cottage. If Wendel were more of a person, staying here would be nice. I figured his NPCness would get very annoying over time. Maybe that was the point?
Wendel led me to the shed out back with an almost religious solemnity that had me a bit concerned.
Oh, then it dawned on me, this was the choosing of your first weapon moment. That was practically a rite of passage.
My eyes slowly adjusted to the gloom in the shed. There stood a little weapon rack lit by a ray of light coming from a crack in the wood panelling, displaying three options: a slender staff, a bow with a handful of arrows, and a club that looked very much like a primitive baseball bat.
"Please, traveller, take but one of these to help you on your journey." His arm swept out like these were weapons crafted by elves, or out of some dwarven metal.
I eyed the rack. That's it? These were my choices? I had to admit some art person had done their job. Little bits of dust motes floated, glowing like little stars in the beam of light doing their best to make the mediocre offering look magical.
My eye was drawn to the staff. It looked elegant but also about as sturdy as a broom handle.
Then there was the simple bow. This was what I usually chose when playing games. At least ranged weapons meant I wouldn't have to get within tooth and claw range. But then I had no idea how to shoot one.
My last experience with archery was at summer camp, and even drawing the string had been more complicated than movies had led me to believe. Plus, arrows would probably be a limited resource, and I'd be left holding a stick that wouldn't be useful to even poke a monster in one of its too many eyes.
Which left the club. Brutal. Simple. Idiot-proof. Basically, humanity's oldest problem-solver since our knuckles.
I glanced at Wendel. He stood immobile, a smile frozen on his face. Waiting for input to animate again.
"No sword," I muttered. "Well, that was likely just as well; might slice my toes off or something equally unhelpful."
With a sigh, I reached out and grabbed the club.
YOU HAVE CHOSEN THE CLASS FIGHTER! YOU ARE NOW A LEVEL ONE FIGHTER.
8XP to level up!
The words blazed across my vision, nearly blinding me. I staggered back, waving the club around like a drunk faced with a piñata.
"Fighter?" I groaned.
No, no, no. That wasn't fair, I didn't know this would force a class on me! I don't do tanking. I'm a rogue girl. A sorcerer girl. I do cool outfits and sparkly spells, not sweaty biceps and concussions.
Wendel sprang back to life, looking very pleased with my choice. Let's be real; he was programmed to look pleased regardless of which one I picked. "That will serve you well, traveller."
I scowled down at the club in my hand. That last bit of information from the system was interesting. I hadn't been paying that much attention, but I was sure I had 12XP so far from dropping rocks on lanperanas, so 20XP to the first level up. Not sure that I was keen on being a fighter class, but I guess could bash my way to a level up and see what happened.
There better be a way to respec.
Then I could pick a class I was more familiar with. Back out in the real world, I would take into account what kind of armour a class had and pick whatever one of my ranged options got the most fabulous outfits. I was playing with my boyfriend. A girl needs to look good even virtually.
Rodney would play the tank. My heart sank thinking of him; now I would be the one in big armour and getting pummelled. I wondered if he was still alive in the real world. How much time had passed? Had I lived a full life and died an old lady surrounded by our loving grandchildren?
I shook my head, shaking those thoughts away, Wendel was speaking.
"… there are great beasts that infest our land. I would go, but I cannot run due to an injury. That is why I stay out here, tending my garden and watching for travellers. Before I ask of you a great favour, do you have any questions for me?"
I looked at him. He didn't look injured. But who was I to doubt him? I wondered if he had taken an arrow to the knee. Did I have any questions? Only a million but doubted he had answers such as why was I in here and was I still alive on the outside.
"What is it you want me to do?" I asked him as he stood there patiently waiting for me to respond.
"My old mother lives in the town. She used to come down and visit me, and I would send her home with all sorts of vegetables and herbs to keep her healthy and strong. But she has gotten too weak to make the journey. And the road has become too dangerous."
"I was wondering, oh traveller, if you were heading that way if you could take this basket to my mother?" He gestured to a rustic yet pretty basket, complete with red and white checkerboard fabric, holding absolutely perfect-looking vegetables.
They looked fake. The carrots were all identical in length and hue, without a single speck of dirt. The apple was a flawless, waxy red. It was giving less 'farm fresh' and more 'emoji' vibes.
I walked over and looked down at the basket. A village sounded good—more people, maybe a better chance at finding information. Maybe there were other real people in here.
"Sure," I said and grabbed the basket.
YOU HAVE ACCEPTED A QUEST! -Take the basket to Wendel's Ol Mum and you will be rewarded. The entire basket and its contents must reach his mum, or you will fail the quest.
Of course, this was a quest. If I were going anyway, I might get a quest for it. Seems I couldn't snack on any of the goodies in the basket. "Wendel. Do you have any food that I could take with me on my journey to the village?"
He nodded and reached behind him as if he was expecting me to ask. He handed me a bundle tied up in the same red and white chequered cloth. I peeked in. There was a perfect-looking red apple, a hunk of cheese and three bread rolls. I thanked him and headed out.
Leaving his clearing were a pair of wheel tracks that were overgrown but still clear. He told me again that the way was dangerous, that this road was not protected like the path that lead me to his cottage. That figured, this was a game after all.
Though why did I have to fight my way from the plains to get to the safe zone?
Wendel had given me a rough canvas pack. In it there was a tin cup, some flint and steel, string, a stubby candle, a water skin and a small knife. I added the food and put it on my back. Hefting the club over my shoulder and picking up the quest basket, I headed out.