More Than A Game (Epic LitRPG adventure)

Chapter 2: A Brave New World Part 1

"Ha! It's Beloomut!"

That was my first reaction to the Fayroll world. The light spat me out onto a fairly narrow street lined with stumpy wooden houses that reminded me of Beloomut, a small provincial town where I spent many happy summer vacations as a child. Even the newest buildings there looked exactly like what was on either side of me. For a split second, I could smell the fields of my childhood, the bonfires we lit in the evenings, baked potatoes, and the dust under my bike tires.

Turning around, I looked at where I had come from. It was a carved arch surrounding a pearly film. The childhood aromas wafting around in my head were quickly blown away when some guy dressed in something markedly exotic tumbled out of the arch, glared at me ferociously, and announced, "Geez, dude, why are you standing in the way like that?"

And off he ran. I turned to look down at myself and realized I wasn't dressed any better. Thinking about it now, the word "dressed" doesn't begin to describe the picturesque rags I wore. Maybe you've seen those old kalikas in movies set in Vladimirian Rus? It's the same thing, only I don't have a harp. A tattered shirt made out of canvas...or hemp, I have no idea, pants made out of the same thing, and a bag fit for a beggar, with a wooden cup and a few clumps of bread inside. Oh, and the smell—again, fit for a beggar.

And that brought up an interesting point: the Fayroll press release said players could play as anyone. What about a bum on the street? What skills would they have to develop? "Begging," "tin-can scavenging," and "stink," a passive ability that weakens opponents for five minutes? I'm kidding, of course. Although to be fair, one popular internet portal I read mentioned that beggars made the best RPG players because they were used to poking around all the nooks and crannies they could find in a relentless search for anything people left lying around.

And that's exactly what the game was about—picking up the loot you got from monsters, crates, pitchers, and anywhere else some sick developer dreamed up. Ultimately, bums on the street spend their time looking for anything interesting lying around, trying it on, and eventually just keeping the best trash they can find. So what's the difference between a gamer and a bum? Okay, forget it. None of that matters. We don't need a beggar; I am a warrior, a powerfully built tank of a man; a pillar of the band; and the hope of orphans, the wretched, and the destitute. A barbarian or a paladin, although it doesn't look like there are any paladins here.

So, I started walking down the street.

"Hey, man, want to join our group? We're going to take a look around Noobland, do some quests, jump up a few levels."

I turned to see a stocky dwarf with a ragged beard and leather clothes that were actually kind of decent. Next to him, was a pair dressed the same as I was.

"Come on," said the little guy, whose name, judging by the label above him, was Frori. "We'll find one more and get going. I know where to find some good quests, so it'll be great. Then we'll head over to Aegan."

Aegan, Aegan. I mentally paged through the guides I'd read briefly. A-a-ah, Aegan—the city players go to after Noobland. The gate to the big world.

"Sounds good," I told the little guy. "Send me the group. Though I should tell you ahead of time that I'm going to be a warrior."

"No problem," he answered. "Be whoever you want. Here's the group."

A window popped up that read:

Frori is inviting you to join his group.

Accept?

Needless to say, I clicked "Accept."

You joined a group! Leader: Frori.

"So, Frori, can we go now, or what?" I asked my new leader.

"No, we're going to find one more first," the dwarf answered as he attentively scanned the players walking and running by. And the stream of players entering the game was still going strong, lending credence to the traffic numbers I hadn't really believed.

"All right, cool. Then I'll be over in that corner looking through the settings."

I walked over to a fence in front of a building, crouched down to lean against it, and pulled up the attribute menu.

Basic attributes:

Strength: 1

Intellect: 1

Agility: 1

Stamina: 1

Wisdom: 1

Well, I thought. Not great. Whatever. I'll go do some fighting with that dwarf, unlock a few levels, and that will help. He obviously isn't just trying to help people—there's something in it for him, too. Every operator has his weak spot, though. You just have to find it.

While I was there mulling things over and waxing eloquent on the meaning of life, life wasn't just standing there waiting for me. The same misfits kept marching by like a rag parade, though the rags differed in color, the number of holes they had, and how they were patched. Admin certainly spared no expense when it came to design. Oh, and one of the tramps had been snagged by our fearless leader Frori. Noticing me watching him, he beckoned me over with his shovel-like hand:

"Hey, warrior, get over here. The group's ready, so let's head off to see Auntie Doris and start our first quest. Some lake goblins are bothering her during the day and keeping her up all night with their noise. And you know Auntie Doris—she's the kind of woman you respect and appreciate. So let's go find those goblins their own little corner of hell."

"That sounds fine," I started. "But what are we going to use to kill them? Our bare hands?"

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