Recovering Human Dignity
Dungeon & Stone was an unusual game. Although companion NPCs were essential for progression, you could never truly trust them—especially some bastard you just met.
Staggering through the cave, one shoe missing and my gait unbalanced, I was... happy. The discomfort I felt now was nothing compared to the agony of crawling on three limbs. I had recovered my human dignity, even if I didn't know how long it would last.
Phew.
I secured my shield and kept moving. I didn't have to keep my eyes glued to the ground anymore; the crystals embedded in the walls and ceiling bathed the corridors in soft light. The memory of bleeding in the darkness felt like a fever dream. Being able to see was a blessing—it meant I could finally start massacring those goblin bastards.
"RAAGH!"
"Grk?!"
A goblin leaped from behind a rock, startled by my shout. I didn't hesitate.
"Smash! You idiot!"
Smash was a skill with decent knockback that didn't consume mana. For the record, I just made that up.
BAM!
The goblin hit my shield and crumpled to the ground. I nimbly stepped in and kicked it squarely in the chest.
"G-Grk!" It looked up at me with pleading eyes. It was useless. I knew how cunning these things were.
"What, you think you're different?" I growled. "Go ask your friend why he did that to my leg."
CRUNCH!
I slammed the edge of my shield into its face. This wasn't a Smash; this was a Final Shield Attack. Also made that up.
The goblin dissolved into shimmering dust. I collected the mana stone and tucked it into my pocket—my tenth one since entering the light.
"Amateurs," I muttered.
Goblins weren't a threat in the light. They weren't even that clever. I passed a trap further down the road that was so poorly hidden it was insulting. At least cover it with some dirt, you idiots. Who is going to step on that?
I realized they only stalked you like obsessed freaks if you actually stepped on the trap. In a fair fight, their daggers were jokes and their strength was that of a high schooler. Against a six-foot-three barbarian? I could subdue one in three seconds.
Maybe I should just become a Goblin Slayer...
I immediately slapped myself across the face.
BAM!
The pain snapped me out of it. What am I thinking? I'm going crazy. I couldn't get cocky just because I'd killed a few trash mobs. I hadn't even solved my basic survival problems yet.
The Thirst System
"Ugh, I'm hungry..."
Problem number one: food. I'd lost five days' worth of rations through a hole in my bag while crawling in the dark. I took out my last piece of hard bread and chewed. It was dry and tasteless, but as my saliva softened it, the sweetness of the carbs hit my tongue.
Why is this so delicious? My barbarian body clearly had different standards.
Problem number two: water.
[ATTENTION! Dehydration imminent. Find drinking water quickly.]
In the game, your thirst meter refilled automatically when you ate a meal. Here, it was a manual process. Fortunately, I found a small pond after following the sound of dripping water. There was another explorer there, squatting and drinking. We didn't exchange a word. He saw me, I saw him, and he left.
That seemed to be the unwritten rule: avoid everyone. Or maybe they just didn't want to talk to a giant, blood-stained barbarian with one shoe.
By the time I'd finished hunting for the day, I had 44 mana stones. That was enough for 44 loaves of bread. A triumphant feat, considering I was nearly dead hours ago. But I was exhausted.
Problem number three: sleep.
How do you sleep in a labyrinth full of monsters? You either entrust your life to the universe and take a nap, or you find a partner.
The universe had already proven it hated me. I needed a partner.
The "Night Mate"
I wandered the maze until I saw groups of explorers resting in shifts. I approached a few, but they all rejected me.
"Sorry, we're full," they'd say, wrinkling their noses.
Idiots. You think you smell like roses right now?
"Hello there."
A human man, roughly thirty years old and six feet tall, approached me. He had a friendly face, but the hammer in his hand was caked in goblin gore.
"Are you looking for a night partner?" he asked.
I instinctively stepped back. A what?
The man tilted his head. "Is that not what you're after? I thought I could rest easy with a barbarian watching my back. My mistake."
Ah. I realized it was slang for a temporary alliance. In the game, it was translated as "Night Comrade" or "Night Companion." Hearing it in person made it sound... suggestive.
"No, I am looking for a night partner," I corrected quickly.
"Oh! Good. I'm Hans."
"Bjorn, son of Yandel."
Hans was experienced. He led the way to a defensible nook and started the negotiations. "Two is okay, but three is better for stamina. Since it's just us, we'll have to split the watch."
"Good," I agreed.
"Then let's decide the order. Rock, paper, scissors?"
Apparently, some things are universal. And apparently, my luck is universal too. I lost.
"Looks like I won," Hans chuckled. "I'll trust you, Bjorn. If a goblin or a scout shows up, wake me. Here, take this."
He handed me a pocket watch with a 24-hour face. "When the hand reaches here, wake me up. Don't break it; it's expensive."
He was talking to me like I was a toddler. I suppose that's how most people viewed barbarians—strong, but dim-witted.
Hans pulled out a thick blanket and a backpack pillow and was asleep in seconds. He looked infuriatingly comfortable. The watch was boring. No goblins came, no scouts passed. I leaned against the cold stone wall, fighting the urge to close my eyes.
When the time finally came, I nudged him. "Hans. Get up."
"Anything happen?" he asked, instantly alert.
"No."
"Good work. Hand over the watch and get some rest. I'll wake you in two hours."
I handed him the watch and sat back against the wall. I closed my eyes and pretended to drift off, but my muscles remained tense.
He seemed kind. He seemed intelligent. He seemed like a good man. But how could I trust a bastard I'd just met? I didn't "sleep"—I waited.