Game On

Chapter Eight: "State Of Mind"

Sean eased back from the bucket and positioned himself back into his chair with a light groan. He couldn't believe such a small bite had knocked him on his ass. Mark pushed the plate of his veggies toward him, telling him more sympathetically. "I really am sorry. Why would someone add that into the game?" Sean sucked on a piece of orange in the hopes that the citrus flavor would remove the awful lingering taste from his bile in his mouth. Shrugging to Mark, he removed the piece of orange to answer flatly. "No idea. For realism, I'd guess? Clearly a lot of time and programing was put into the game for things to... taste and feel the way they do. But... nothing in the game guides talked about racial traits dictating our character's actions. You'd think they'd mention something like that." Mark picked strips of meat off his food with his fingers, his eyes darting around the room to observe other players. Sean ate the piece of orange, before asking Mark curiously. "Do you not feel any different?"

Mark's gaze returned to him, and he shrugged out honestly. "Not really. I feel... the same. I can eat and drink whatever I want. I don't feel restricted." Sean rolled his eyes, informing him coolly. "I'm not restricted from doing it. You saw that I could eat it. My body just... didn't let me keep it down and it didn't heal my health bar at all. So, it's not that I can't do something. It's more like..." Mark finished for him when he trailed off. "More like the game set up safety bars. You don't get anything from acting outside your racial traits." Sean nodded, stating out lightly in return. "Exactly. Are you sure that you don't feel that?" Mark shook his head, taking a sip from his horn tankard. Sean grimaced, taking in the other players now. Since he'd hurled, a lot of players were nervously eating and tasting what they couldn't eat or drink. Mark drew his attention back by suddenly setting down his tankard and asking him curiously. "Sean? Do you think this is the headgears doing?"

Sean blinked with a perplexed look, prompting Mark to lean on the table as he regaled in a hushed tone of voice. "Hear me out. They say the mind is a powerful engine by itself. So, what if the headgear is simply stimulating our own brains to simulate the taste, smell, and the feeling of things in this world through what we recall about those objects?" Sean dropped his gaze to the wooden table and subconsciously ran his fingers over it, feeling the grain beneath his fingers. Meeting Mark's eyes again, he blurted out seriously. "But I've never had my hand impaled but a spike. So how would my body know what that feels like?" Mark chuckled, telling him a little smugly. "You know it would hurt like hell though. You've gotten hurt before. Your body knows what pain feels like and what your pain tolerance is." Sean let that sink in a moment, before asking nervously. "What are you getting at, Mark?" Mark reached out to touch his hand, causing Sean to curl his fingers to hide them beneath Mark's warm hand.

With his hand draped over Sean's, Mark whispered to him seriously. "What if it isn't the headgear killing us... but our own minds. The game is forcing our own brains to believe this is all real. So, when we die in the game... it tricks our bodies into believing that we have really died." Sean huffed softly, mumbling out under his breath. "I could see that. But what does this have to do with the racial traits?" Mark licked his dry lips, before openly regaling. "The headgear saves the data of our characters, right? It is programed to show us the game and its world elements. So, if our bodies in this world are what the headgear and game have programed... Then do you think our mind is adapting our avatars to follow that programing? Almost subliminally?" Sean tensed, grabbing Mark's hand that rested on his, when he stated out in a stunned whisper. "Oh, fuck... You think this is going to brainwash us into acting like our race?" Mark squeezed his hand, trying to keep his voice low and calm, when he answered. "It could. Depends on how long we are in here for. But if we get nothing from acting outside our racial traits, then it could condition people to act a certain way."

Swallowing, Sean glanced at the other races scattered throughout the tavern before asking Mark uneasily. "If that's true then... What about the Draugrs' racial traits?" Mark looked around the tavern discreetly. Out of all the races that were present, the Draugr players weren't among them. When Mark's dark eyes met with his, there was a seriousness to his voice when he told him. "That's what I'm worried about. Draugr are described in the guide as creatures that can't feel pain, have human intelligence, and harbor a deep anger and hate for the living. If they follow their character traits in order to level up in this game..." Sean felt like his blood turned to ice when he answered for him. "Then they'll have to kill players. Oh fuck... this game just got a whole lot scarier." Mark slid his hand off Sean's, leaning back in his chair when he told him reluctantly. "That guild we saw earlier. The Specters of Death. We have to be careful. We can't underestimate them. While they can't kill us in town... they could kill us during a boss fight. It would earn them more points and give them greater rewards from the fallen players as well as the boss."