Hacking the Game Didn't Go as Intended

CHAPTER 7: Dire Straits

On record, the earliest a baby ever started walking is within three months. Daisuke shattered that record by a whole fifteen days. It was a shame the Guinness World Record had no place in this world, wherever it might be.

"Oh, my goddess!" Daisuke's mother exclaimed in a mix of shock and delight, dropping to her knees with arms outstretched. "Haxks! You're not even three months old yet; how can you already be walking?!"

With a smug smile, Daisuke waddled into her arms, and she hugged him affectionately.

"Good job! Mommy's little boy is so smart," she cooed in baby talk. "I'm so proud of you!"

Daisuke's eyes sparkled. At the back of his mind, he somewhat felt like a cheat, being essentially a young adult inside the body of a baby. Yet, the shower of compliments and attention stirred a warm quiver in his heart.

"I know the world must be tempting now that you can move around, but promise me... never venture outside, okay?" She pointed at the sorry excuse for a door, shaking her head in denial.

Daisuke had never been outside before, and whenever his mother ventured out, she draped herself thoroughly, reminiscent of someone from a Middle Eastern country.

Was that the case? Did this world adhere to some absurdly chauvinistic law, or was she merely a fugitive? Regardless, Daisuke harbored no intent to expose himself to risks when he couldn't currently defend himself. And by defending, he meant, of course, running away.

***

Being able to waddle around like a penguin was certainly an improvement over being confined to a straw-woven basket, but there was nothing worth seeing in a decrepit old hut. Keeping a baby entertained was simple, but a mature mind needed greater stimulus to be content, and the bats now living in the roof didn't provide nearly enough.

After a bit of exploring, Daisuke found what remained of a mirror beside the stained old bathtub, which he had secretly brought into the living room area. It was the first time he was seeing himself since he was whisked away to this godforsaken world.

Small hands tousled the silver hair that sat atop his head. A round pair of butterscotch eyes assessed the silky rose beige that was his skin tone. And, finally, he stretched the waist of his diaper and took a gander down south.

Phew, he wiped away the nonexistent sweat from his forehead with a sigh of relief. Thanks, dad!

While walking toward the bedroom with a cupped chin, Daisuke started deliberating. Except for my eyes and hair color, which I got from the NPC, I pretty much have the same physical traits as I did in the real world.

Daisuke regarded his mother as an NPC, but with the exception of her obnoxious naming sense, there were really no other indicators that supported his claim. Typically, in video games, NPCs—or Non-Playable Characters—were scripted automatons that rinsed and recycled several dialogues. They gave players information and «quests», and were always the owners of various stores at which players could trade money for goods and services.

Traditionally, NPCs were easily identified by a clear name floating above their heads, distinguished in a color separate from those of players. They were also programmed to walk or run on a scripted path or to perform a certain series of actions.

All in all, with enough observation, NPCs could easily be distinguished by their repetitive and robotic behavior. However, assuming this was indeed inside the game, his virtual mother hadn't displayed any of those signs. There was no nametag floating above her head, and she had a level of autonomy that suggested each NPC in this world may be blessed with a tremendous degree of artificial intelligence. This added a godlike level of realism to the world.