E'er'all PRPG by Shaudawn | World Anvil Manuscripts | World Anvil
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Venerable Grandmaster Shaudawn
Shaudawn (a.k.a. Donovan)

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2. Noobs, Right?

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I don't know how long I was there.  The developers must have taken a page from Las Vegas because there were no clocks in the character creation stage.  So, my best guess is that I was playing with all of the options for hours.  

Yes, I'm a sucker for character creation.  I remember that stage in The Sims or Second LIfe and various online RPG games.  Sometimes, that was the best part of the game.  I'd make a dozen characters, both men and women just to make them, and then start all over again.  Sometimes I'd just find myself staring at the numbers representing attributes, not so much because I liked the numbers as it was what they represented—stories, potential, stuff like that.

I don't know exactly how I was making changes, being disembodied and all.  I guess I just thought of manipulating the various parts of my avatar, and it was just natural.  The final version looked alright, in my opinion.  Yes, he was about twenty years younger than me, but looked like he'd lived in the world a little.  He wasn't a bulging muscle man, but had some tone and definition.  I made his skin a coppery shade darker than my typical completion, and decided against any facial hair.  I put a little gray in his hair, just like when I was that age before it started receding.  He looked kind of like I did back then.  Or at least, he looked something semi-realistic, semi-idealistic. 

I stood back and admired him.  At that moment, a little box faded into view.

"What do you want to name your character?" it said. 

I hummed thoughtfully.  This was often the difficult part.  I always wanted something that sounded kind of epic for my heroes, but not something that would make me cringe after the novelty of the name wore off and the realization that it wasn't quite as epic as I thought would kick in.  And that happened a lot.  I tended to stay with one or two of my favorites, recycling the names over and over in different games.  But this time, I wanted something unique.  I sighed, knowing that this might take even longer than the character creation itself. 

But then another box floated up out of nowhere.  On it read: "Do you want to randomize a name?  You can use the result, randomize again, or chose your own."

"Huh."  I must have imagined myself agreeing because the box animated letters spinning.  The first one that came up was "Nardud Pistil".  I laughed so hard, it echoed.  Imagining myself wiping a tear from my eye, I focused on the randomizer again.  And again.  And again.  I sighed once more.  This wasn't helping.

"Let's try something...I don't know, more simple," I told the box.  It must have agreed because it shifted.

"Birstio," it said.

"That's better, but maybe a bit too Italian."  I hummed again, wishing that I could stroke my chin or something to help me think that I was thinking.  Then, I had an idea.  "What if we go with a name that has Algonquian influences...you know, like some of my ancestors on my dad's side." 

The box shifted.  This time it read "Akaun".  I could see the inspiration.  Not exactly First Nations Cree, but it had a ring to it.  Maybe the box picked up on the Irish, too and mished them together.  I decided I'd take it.

The name shifted and lifted off of the box.  It looked more solid as it floated for a while in air in a nice, solid font, and then affixed itself to the base where my finished model lay.  If I had the ability to nod and smile, I would have been doing it right then and there.

And that's when my brain got sucked into my avatar.

 

Do you remember that old show, Star Trek: The Next Generation, back when CGI was first used in television?  Well, maybe you don't if you're a Boomer or Millennial.  The last scene of the opening credits has the starship Enterprise warp off into space, and we see the ship stretch itself off to some distant perspective point which explodes with light.

(If you're a Boomer, and you don't know what I'm talking about, perhaps the last scenes of Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey while tripped out on your favorite psychedelic might convey what I mean.  If you're a Millennial, just imagine staring at all of the handheld cam lens flares of J.J. Abram's Star Trek reboot condensed into one second.  If you're Gen Z, I can't help you unless you've ever put your phone in the inside of a dryer for TikTok...or had a mean older brother that threw you into a garbage can and rolled you down a hill.)

Anyway. That's how it felt when I was suddenly lurched from my non-corporeal perspective right at the character of Akaun.  The only thing keeping me from full-on vomiting was my amazement at how real it felt to drop to my knees to dry heave.  Fortunately the nausea wore off quickly.

I stumbled to my knees to find myself in something like a stall.  It resembled a bathroom stall, except there was no toilet, and the sides were made out of wood.  There was no door either.  There was, however, a floating orb.  Its colors glowed and swirled inches from my face.

"Welcome, human!" it chirped in a very happy manner.

"Uh... thanks?"  I just stared at it.  It was kind of mezmerizing to behold. 

"Thank you for joining EveryAll Online: A Game of Gods and Mortals.  Please exit to the waiting lobby so that the players behind you can materialize.  Your representative will be with you shortly.  Have a great game!"

"Yeah, Dude."  I shook my head to clear it and immediately regretted it.  I put my hand on the top of the stall's side and looked squarely into the orb.  "I'd like to speak to Mr. Alger.  You tell him that I'm going to be leaving a really critical review.  I mean, the experience is just like you guys said, but maybe a little too overwhelming."

I folded my arms.  The orb just floated there cycling through a few colors.

"Welcome, human!  Thank you for joining EveryAll Online: A Game—"

I rolled my eyes.  "Damn it, Alger.  You said you'd be back for me." 

I looked down at myself and pinched my skin.  And I felt the pinch!  It was my skin, but it wasn't.  It was his skin.  Akaun's.  But mine, too.  I felt my biceps and turned around a few times.  Like my avatar a few moments ago, he—I—was without a stitch.  Yeah, I checked my own butt out.  I admit it.  I smiled.

That's when I noticed a flash in the corner of my eye.  I looked up to see that there was a large mirror on the back wall of the stall.  It wasn't like a normal glass mirror—just a really very polished piece of silver.  But it was enough to see that I had Akaun's face.  Akuan's hair.  Akaun's body. 

I peered closely at the image.  My fingers gingerly touched my face and I felt my fingers perfectly.  This was incredible.  How did they make it feel so real?  I took a few steps back to admire my image and poke at my abdomen in order to make sure that there was no longer fifty years of hard-earned gut hanging there. 

The orb orbited around my head.  "Please exit to the waiting lobby so that the players behind you can materialize.  Your representative will be with you shortly.  Next player incoming in three, two—" 

"Yeah, yeah," I waved at it like I would a fly. 

The sucking sound and flash of light threw me off balance.  I stumbled backwards, throwing my hands in front of my face to ward off what I thought was an explosion.  When I looked up, I saw the form pitch forward onto hands and knees and make the same retching sound that I had made just moments before.  Dumbfounded, I just stared at the mass of reddish hair on all fours. 

And that's when she looked up at me and screamed.  I may have screamed back.  A little.  Okay, a lot.

"You're naked!" she bellowed.

"Yeah, funny thing about that.  I would have thought they'd outfit us with some simple cloth—"

"I'm naked!"

"It must be a game thing, because—"

"Get out."  She stood, her posture like that of a cat ready to pounce.

I may have let my eyes linger too long.

"GET OUT!"  She covered herself enough with one hand and let her other one raise into an impressive fist.

I stumbled backwards blindly.  I could see in my peripheral vision that I was scrambling into a narrow corridor.  I felt my back slam up against the wooden wall.  "Sorry.  Sorry!"

She bellowed again and took a step towards me.

"Welcome, human!  Thank you for joining EveryAll Online: A Ga—"  In another moment, the orb stopped hovering and was rushing at my face.  I managed to duck just in time.  It shattered like glass against the wall, sending shards and mist and colors everywhere. 

I turned and sprinted down the corridor.  Several stalls zoomed past—some with bodies in them, some empty, some of the figures were also on their hands and knees.  Some were admiring themselves in the mirror.  And some were just looking around in a familiar confusion.  A few heads were poking out, looking at the remains of the orb, but I didn't hear the woman screaming at me any longer.  I turned to look to see if she was in pursuit.

And then I slammed into another body.

Yeah, I thought. This was going to be the weirdest review I'd ever write.

 

I picked myself up and offered a hand to the guy I had just bowled over.  "I'm awfully sorry," I said.  "I kinda panicked there when the next person spawned right in my face.  Shoulda been watching where I was going."

The man on the floor looked at my hand, then at me.  He nodded and gave a little sigh, then took my hand.  I braced myself and gave a bit of a yank.  He was surprisingly light and came up quickly.  I gaped at him a little when I saw his face.  Mostly when I saw his ears.  He looked simultaneously old and young, and the ears tapered to small points at the tip.

"Thank you," he muttered, but his smile didn't seem to portray any offense. 

I couldn't help but smile back at the wizened face, and I nodded my head at his ears.  "You chose to be an elf, eh?"

"Half-Elf, actually."  His smile broadened.  "I couldn't help myself."

"I almost went that route too."

He looked me over.  Both of us were still naked, just like the others emerging from their stalls, men and women each.  He blushed a little, seeing some of the women who also took the advantage to go with enhanced physical features, and he locked his gaze on my face.  "What name did you choose?"

"Akaun."  I watched him closely to see his expression, but his face remained soft.  Still focused, but soft. 

He held out his hand.  "Pleased to meet you, Akaun.  I'm Meiroin."

I took it and we enjoyed a firm handshake.  I was about to ask him about his own process thus far, but a shadow covered us.

"If you two fairies are done kissing, you can either keep walking out, or get the frog out of my way."  Its voice vibrated my entire ribcage.  "Or I can just trample your face.  Your choice."

Meiorin and I looked at the shadow.  And then up.  And up.  And up.  The green-skinned half-orc glared at us.  Its massive, tree trunk sized arms were crossed.

If it wasn't for Meiorin pulling me by the shoulder back into one of the empty stalls, I'd probably be a professional pancake. "S-sorry, sir.  You go on," I stammered.

The big half-orc snorted and strode towards the exit.  I could feel the vibrations rattling my bones.

"That was a female," Meiorin said in a quiet tremble. 

"What?  Really?  How do you know?"

"You did check out the orc avatars during character creation, right?"

"Yeah."

"You'd know if it was a male."  He chuckled and winked at me as he resumed his own way towards the exit.  I hurried behind him, making sure that no orcs, half-orcs, ogres, or bellowing red-haired women were coming after me. 

"Did he—she, I mean—really tell us to 'get the frog out of the way'?"

The half-elf glanced over his shoulder at me.  "I'm guessing this must be a 'no profanity zone' or something.  I think we'll have more opportunities for colorful language once we get in the game.  But I certainly hope I don't see her again to find out."

"So, let me get this straight...  I can walk around with my door hanging out, but I can't say frog?  This is bull sheep!  Mouthing finger.  Some of a batch!"

Meiorin chuckled.  "Are you quite done?"

"Naw.  You know George Carlin's bit about the seven words you can't use on television?"

He didn't answer, but just chuckled harder.

"Sheep, pass, can't, frog, mouthing finger, twigs, lamp-pole!  Hell, damn, fart!"

"You must have heard a different list than I.  But you have to admit, the A.I. is incredible for it to catch and alter everyone's words before they can even say them.  Maybe even before we can even think them.  I'd love to meet the programmers."

"Which makes me bring up this question that's been brewing in my noggin: What the hell is going on with this game?  Do you know how to pause it or exit it or something?  It's got to be hours since I entered, and I know I've got to probably take a big, old pass about now because I, like, downed a twenty-ouncer before I put on the gear."

"I'm not certain, but my theory is that the developers have figured out how to induce a condition like a deep state of REM sleep, where the brain experiences a compressed time-frame."

"You mean, like Inception?"

"What?"

"The movie."

He slowed down a half-step and turned his face again towards me.  "Yeah.  I guess so.  That's a good comparison."

"I dunno, Dude.  This feels really real, you know?"  I gesticulated my agitation.  "I've never had a dream in such detail.  But, more importantly, how do we wake up or take off the headset?  That's what's starting to freak me out."

But Meiorin didn't answer.  Maybe it was because we had reached the end of the long corridor or maybe it was because he just didn't want to go there.

The door was opened and we both walked out into a large, open-air courtyard.  Several dozen players were also there, milling about.  Many looked confused, and a few groups were forming.  I noticed some rudimentary clothes on a number of the player avatars—nothing fancy, just simple sackcloth tunics a few people had managed to slip on.  Meiorin and I walked over to a basket in the center of the courtyard where a handful of players were wiggling into their makeshift tunics. 

"Weren't we supposed to meet our representative in a lobby?" asked Meiorin as he cinched up a rope belt while I pulled a tunic over my head. 

"It's game terminology," came a reply from someone that sounded recently familiar.  "It doesn't have to look literally like a lobby.  It's just a kind of entrance place."

I struggled to get my head through the tunic so that I could confirm my suspicions.  Sure enough, there he was.  I narrowed my eyes at him and pointed.  "Mr. Alger.  I've got a few questions for you."

His eyebrows raised ever so slightly.  "Indeed."


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