We, The Dreamers

The Time I Got Transported Into My Own Game (Part One)

I should really stop doing acid after my shows.

I pried my eyes open, expecting to at least see the cool blue tone of my apartment's ceiling staring back at me, but it wasn't there this time. Instead, a cloudless blue sky smiled warmly down on me, as if I was one of her hippie nature worshippers.

Great. So nobody had the decency to at least toss me somewhere near my house when I passed out, eh? Some friends I had.

Steel creaked as I forced myself back on my feet, feeling warm metal wrap around my body cosily. The sun was still glaringly bright, but I felt oddly comfortable, as though my city-honed body had somehow gotten used to the harsh outside overnight.

The familiar hue of grey armour greeted me as I inspected my clothes. Whoever put me in this cosplay and stranded me in the middle of the forest had apparently done a marvellous job at replicating my in-game armour. Must have been one of my die-hard fans.

My head was still spinning like an uncontrolled top, so I decided to do one of those first-aid self-awareness tests on myself. What was the first question again? Oh, right.

What's your name?

Easy. Warren Alexandre, Chief Executive Officer at Riptide Incorporated. Alright, what's next?

What were you doing?

I have to admit; I racked my brains for this one. The last thing I remembered was playing an online game in my apartment. Not just any game, though. I actually developed this one myself. Or at least, my employees did.

Personally, I had no IT knowledge whatsoever; I only took over this company for a friend who had decided to ditch it and pursue other ventures. Entertaining people online with fun engineering experiments was my forté, not coding for hours on end for a game. What do you think I am, some kind of chronically online loser?

Do you remember how you got here?

Now that I think about it, I definitely wasn't doing acid when I got here. In fact, I was actually being a good boy for once this time. It was thundering and pouring out after the public showcase of my game, so I just went home and hopped online to make sure my character didn't get jumped by goblins while I was gone. But speaking of which...

I took a good look at my surroundings again. Hold on, I recognised this place. I was in one of the starting areas in the game. A stray breeze hit me as something unfurled from my back. I gasped.

Wings. Real, honest-to-God, dove wings.

The revelation hit me like a truck. It must have been loaded with gas because my mind shook from the explosion that followed. It couldn't be, right? No way, this was the wet dream of some nerd gamer, not mine. But the evidence was as clear as day, and I wasn't high enough to ignore it.

Somehow, I had been transported into the game world of 'NULL'. And I was in the body of the character I created in the game; a Winged Human Warrior.

"Help! Somebody, help!"

I swear these things only happen when you're stuck in the middle of the forest, wondering how the hell to get back home. I turned away from the screaming woman—

"Help, Mister Warrior! Skill Issue Eighty-Seven! Help me!"

A chortle escaped my lips as I shook my head. Skill Issue Eighty-Seven? What kind of idiot would name themselves that?

"Hoho, so you want a piece of that, too?" The growling voice was obviously directed towards me this time, so I turned around.

And wished I had not.