Reboot: An Epic LitRPG (Afterlife Online Book 1) Read online

  I toyed with my appearance just for funsies. Made myself stronger. Colored my hair blond, then blue. Even gave myself a nice tan. It was riveting seeing the different people I could be, but in the end I knew I wasn't any of them. I clicked the default button and looked myself over.

  Straight black hair. Short. Thin frame. Healthy if on the pale side. I'd spent twenty-five years cultivating professional geek chic. It was who I was comfortable being.

  I marveled at the detail of the doppelganger, though. The small dog-bite scar on my left hand. The eyes, not quite blue or silver, dotted with flecks of black. Even my skinny toes were matched perfectly to every nail. I looked down at my own feet and wiggled them.

  "Did you scan my entire body?" I asked, amazed.

  Saint Peter scoffed. "No. A scan would be imperfect, without the resolution to survive true DR. You're seeing your brain's representation of your body. Not just who you were, but who you believe you are. It's even more perfect than your physical form, which varied from day to day. This is one hundred percent you, Tod."

  I rolled my eyes and turned back to the character creation dialog. I had to admit, I was starting to get into this.

  I scrolled to the next set of screens. A series of menu images representing categories. My starting clothing. I scrolled through to find something snazzy but quickly realized it wasn't gonna happen. Icon after icon of drab peasant adornments were the only things on offer. As I cycled through the options, the doppelganger standing before me flicked into new outfits. I settled on a black tunic without sleeves that stopped at the knee and suddenly wished I had buff calves too.

  Still wearing just the loincloth myself, I turned to Saint Peter. "You think I can put this on now?"

  "Check your inventory."

  I arched an eyebrow, and then I willed my inventory into existence. A grid consisting of a single item: a black tunic. I selected it and removed it from my inventory. The folded rough cloth appeared in my hands. I awkwardly slipped it over my head. It hung loose on me but didn't hamper my movement in the slightest.

  Saint Peter cleared his throat. "The simulation allows you to climb in and out of clothes, if you wish. We do, after all, aspire to realism. However, inventory management, like many aspects of the game, is optimized for digital. Go on, pick a belt and see."

  I scrolled through the available belts. They were a bunch of ropes and ribbons; nothing as sturdy as leather. I picked a tan length that was about my height, unsure what to do with it.

  "Wear it directly from your inventory," Peter instructed.

  I did that and the belt appeared around my waist. There was a knot at my side and the two loose ends hung down my calf. Easy peasy.

  Next was footwear. I'm not a sandals guy but that was all they had. I picked something simple that wrapped around my ankle and frowned at my perfectly skinny toes. A good pair of boots would be my first order of business.

  I couldn't help grumbling. "I don't really see the point in picking clothes if we're gonna look like peasants."

  "We all have to start somewhere," replied the old man. "Your first real decision comes next."

  Intrigued, I swiped ahead. A graphic of a crossbar dominated the selection area. It looked like a giant D-pad. Each cardinal direction was labeled.

  "The class cruciform," announced Saint Peter. "This concept is at the core of Haven's game balance. These are the four base game disciplines everyone ascribes to."

  SOLDIER

  (Strength - Weaponry)

  EXPLORERARTISAN

  MYSTIC

  I examined the graphic closely. I could apparently pick from four starting classes: soldier, artisan, mystic, or explorer. Each position on the class cruciform seemed to imply opposition.

  The currently selected topmost option was soldier. A separate window displayed its description.

  SOLDIER

  A natural combatant, soldiers are trained in a multitude of weapons and fighting styles. They're the hunters and knights, often relying on physical force to achieve their ends. An offensive class, soldiers shun the esoteric mystics.

  Primary Attribute: Strength

  A fighter class. It was probably one of the more common choices. I swiped at the screen and the entire cruciform rotated, moving artisan to the top selection.

  ARTISAN

  (Craft - Equipment)

  SOLDIER MYSTIC

  EXPLORER

  This sounded like something most regular games didn't offer, so I paid attention.

  ARTISAN

  A heavily equipped defender and craftsman, artisans provide invaluable reinforcement to groups. They're the smiths and engineers, often relying on building strong communities for support. A defensive class, artisans strive against the subterfuge of explorers.

  Primary Attribute: Craft

  Interesting. Builders of some sort, although the class description was open-ended. I wondered how many possibilities there were. How many types of things could be built. Artisans were merchants, perhaps, but they had a stronger defensive role.

  That made me ponder just how expansive Haven was. Maybe soldiers had a lot more going on than I assumed. I flipped to the next class.

  MYSTIC

  (Essence - Magic)

  ARTISAN EXPLORER

  SOLDIER

  MYSTIC

  A powerful specialist, mystics cast a range of spells in any number of disciplines. They're the magicians and healers, often relying on superiority through supernatural means. An offensive class, mystics abhor the banality of soldiers.

  Primary Attribute: Essence

  "Hmm," I said. "I would've expected a mage class to prioritize intelligence."

  "You're thinking along the lines of old games," said Saint Peter. "Haven doesn't have attributes like intelligence and wisdom. What are these things if not an applied collection of your experiences and knowledge? If you're dumb enough to grasp a poisoned rose with an ungloved hand, what good would a numbered representation do you?"

  I thought I followed. "So the attributes represent..."

  "The non-mental portions of your digital reality. The things that don't really exist. Strength is your physical prowess, which unfortunately has not made the transition with your brain. On the opposite side of the spectrum is your essence, your closeness with the magic of Haven. The supernatural world. The craft of artisans represents general handiness and ability, while agility determines your speed and quickness."

  I was beginning to see what Peter meant about the class cruciform being at the heart of Haven's game balance. Four base classes, four base attributes. A set of opposites in the combat and support spectrums. As a game developer I appreciated the clean design.

  I swiped to the last class.

  EXPLORER

  (Agility - Artifice)

  MYSTIC SOLDIER

  ARTISAN

  EXPLORER

  A furtive wildcard, explorers use speed and smarts to achieve their goals behind the scenes. They're the spies and adventurers, often nomadic and flexible. A support class, explorers work outside the order built by artisans.

  Primary Attribute: Agility

  So if artisans built strong communities and unions, explorers struck out into the unknown on their own. I liked the sound of that.

  There was something else. In games like this, I always pick the thief. Call it a fatal flaw, but rogues are my jam, even when they're underpowered. Granted, the word "thief" was never mentioned, but this was the agility-based class.

  "Can explorers use weapons?" I asked.

  "They sure can. Weaponry is the domain of the soldier, but as consort classes artisans and explorers have ample weapon selection. They even have physical combat skills. Just don't imagine you can trade blows toe to toe with a soldier."

  That was all I needed to hear. I selected explorer. On cue, I was offered a list of starting weapons. Swords, slings, clubs. This part wasn't a foregone conclusion to me. I'd used all types of weapons in MMOs before. It just depended on the game and the current timing. R
ight now I knew I didn't wanna be just another sword jockey, but that was about it.

  I considered what little I knew of the class. Explorers were loners with great mobility. As I cycled past a staff, I noted the imposing height of the thing in my double's hands. It wasn't a small dagger—a thief's weapon—but it had an opposite appeal. Definitely not sneaky, but a big stick sure as hell would keep enemies at a distance.

  I thought about agility. Rogue classes often focus on subterfuge and slinking around shadows—hiding blades in sleeves—but there was nothing that explicitly said explorers needed to steal for a living in Haven. Maybe I could use my quickness for other pursuits. Sprinting, dodging, outmaneuvering.

  A big stick wasn't a bad tool for creating space among enemies and using it.

  I cycled through some other choices. A bow and arrow. A mace. I'd used those weapons at times but, with my new train of thought, they didn't appeal now. I wasn't planning on hiding in trees or ambushing enemies from behind.

  When I scrolled to the spear, it immediately resonated with me. Here I had the reach of a staff but the added offense of a metal point. Sure, it probably limited some of the more acrobatic options, but it was a good balance between weapon and tool. I selected it.

  [Woodman's Spear]

  "Interesting choice," remarked Saint Peter. "I see you're going to have fun with this."

  "I'm either dead or dreaming," I agreed. "I've got nothing to lose."

  "Now that's the spirit."

  0040 Rogue Spear

  I swung the spear in the large empty room. I was standing on a leather mat now. The character creation menus had disappeared along with my double. It was just me and my weapon now.

  It felt unfamiliar in my hands, but not ungainly. I could spin it in my hand without dropping it about half the time, which was probably a fat lot better than I could pull off in real life.

  "Do I have some skill in spear handling now?"

  "You noticed that," said Saint Peter. "You do, but it's just a base amount."

  I thrust the tip forward. I did it again and added a hop for effect. "Will I get better with practice?"

  "Only incrementally. This is an MMORPG after all. There are basic expertises that you become versed in through practice, things like building a campfire and pitching a tent. These are called proficiencies. They're about competency rather than resources."

  I nodded. "And skills?"

  "True skills are varied and class dependent. Your weapon use is a skill, which means it mostly improves through the expenditure of skill points. It's straightforward that way. You gain experience, you level, you receive new skills points and spend them. When you begin the tutorial, you'll have the option of selecting two other starting skills. We don't force you to pick them off the bat, in case you want to play around and learn about the environment first."

  "Makes sense, but... tutorial?"

  Saint Peter smiled patiently. "Of course."

  "You're not gonna start me off in some lame RPG school that gets attacked by airships, are you?"

  Saint Peter didn't answer.

  I sighed. "Will it involve combat?"

  "Of course."

  I stopped swinging the spear like a jackass. "Um... will it... hurt?"

  "What kind of Heaven would have pain?" Saint Peter leaned against the table and crossed his arms. "Listen, as far as sims go, pain is a real brain response. But when you're talking about conducive online environments, focus testing indicates pain isn't an asset. You can take damage, lose abilities and such, but you won't feel intense pain. Instead you'll get real-time notifications of your status as it changes. What is pain, after all, if not the body's status system?"

  "So if I get stabbed?"

  "You'll feel a watered-down representation of pain and take some damage. If there's blood there won't be a wound unless it's a more critical blow. Most of it is in place to support the idea of damage, to represent it to others. It's a game, of course, so you can always be fully healed."

  "Cool," I said. "That doesn't sound too bad. I guess I'm ready to kick ass then."

  "Not just yet. You have one last detail to take care of." He gestured to the new screen that appeared before me.

  Name: _

  The blinking cursor waited for my input. I smiled. This was the easy part. I always picked the same name. Not Tad, not Lonnerman, but a combination of the first few letters of each name. I voiced my input.

  "Talon."

  The prompt flashed in confirmation and disappeared.

  Saint Peter nodded. "You're lucky. We just had a universal wipe and reboot. Everyone's level 1. You'll come out of the gate on the same footing as everybody else."

  I paused. I kinda forgot there'd be other people to deal with. Even if they'd had their levels reset, they were familiar with the game. I'd still be the noob.

  "Don't worry," he said, sensing my unease. "You'll do fine. It's a big world out there, but my job is to accustom you to it. Remember what I said. Take it in slowly. Over time. Haven's not the type of game that comes with a rulebook. Focus testing indicates it's better to keep the initial choices simple and let residents ease into the rest. You'll learn about skills and enemies and all that good stuff organically. And, if you ever find yourself in absolute need of guidance, just press that giant green help button up there."

  I followed his signal and two large buttons appeared in the sky. One was green with a question mark and the other was red with a spider icon.

  "Help will summon me," said Peter. "Use it wisely because you won't have access to me forever. The red button is how you file bugs."

  "Bugs?"

  "Don't be daft. This is a beta test and you're a developer. You're expected to report any bugs you encounter in detail. Such is the price of admission."

  "Easy enough."

  The thought of being immersed in a buggy simulation could've been disquieting, but the knowledge had the opposite effect on me. Like he said, I was a programmer. This world wasn't magic. It was a set of logical instructions to simulate an environment. The fact that bugs existed confirmed that the system wasn't all-powerful. It made it easier to view the whole thing as a game. As something familiar.

  "It should be easy, yes," said Saint Peter. He picked up his tablet and typed in some commands. "Our A/B tests indicate easing residents into the simulation results in a smoother transition rather than throwing them into the fire. Turns out that could be traumatic."

  A/B testing is developer jargon that means testing multiple alternatives at once and comparing the results. Does scenario A play out better than B or vice versa? It's a great way to find superior processes quickly.

  "Why would you ever think it's a good idea to throw someone into the fire after telling them they died?"

  Saint Peter shrugged. "There was a theory that the postmortem mind should be kept busy."

  I hefted my spear over my shoulder. "Yeah, well, sign me up for the smooth transition."

  "Oh." Saint Peter's face darkened as he referred to his tablet. "Unfortunately, our A/B testing is still technically ongoing and open for trial, and despite the overwhelming evidence that says you'd be better off easing into your new home, we can't slant our conclusions based on early evidence."

  I crinkled my brow. "What are you saying, Pete?"

  "You're in the B group."

  I blinked. "What? The traumatic inferno?"

  "Well said. Thanks for being a good sport about this."

  "Whoa, now. If it's one thing I'm not, it's a good sport."

  I tried protesting more, but all the whiteness in the world began to fade to black.

  "Oh, one more thing," said Peter. "During the opening tutorial, and for the purposes of gathering play-test data, that giant green help button will be disabled."

  "What?"

  "We need to gauge your ability to learn and adapt organically. We don't want a clunky game, after all."

  "But what do I do to avoid the serious trauma?" I asked desperately.

  The world compl
etely blackened as his disembodied voice answered.

  "Don't worry about a thing. We've analyzed every detail of your background and employment history. You have a logical thought process. In a way, you could say this tutorial is perfectly tailored just to you, Tod."

  "It's—"

  And then the world was gone.

  0050 Test Drive

  My skin warmed. Mist tickled my face. A deafening roar crashed around me. I shut my eyes at the blinding light and gripped tight against the dizzying sway.

  I was... outside.

  I braced against a rope, hugging my spear to my body. What I'd initially perceived as a buffeting swell was only a breeze. The ground continued to rock back and forth beneath me, but it slowed to a gentle rhythm. The light and the noise, however, remained.

  Cautiously, I opened my eyes and adjusted to the sunlight.

  The sky was clear azure. Below, a canopy of trees rustled in the distance. As my eyes moved down to the yellow grass rippling in the wind, I fully comprehended my predicament.

  I was in the middle of a grand chasm, rushing water below, suspended on a rickety bridge made entirely of rope.

  I hugged the handrail. The walkway was made of three burly intertwined lengths of hemp. The handrails were thinner, one on each side rising from the center rope in the shape of a V. My arm was hooked over one and the soles of my sandals scraped against the rough hemp. I risked a look down.

  A hundred feet to a raging current that would surely sweep me to my death.