Rush to Level 0: The Game (Chapter 5)

My grandfather always said I had to learn the rules of life as quickly as possible to get ahead. Back then, I thought it was amusing. Every day, I’d try to find a new rule and test it out just for the principle. Later I learned that there were no such things as rules of life. It was all a set of principles to be mindful of and abuse any chance I got. Some helped me get ahead, but most didn’t. The only firm rule was that money solved all problems.

In the game, by the looks of it, the rules of behavior were absolute. Everything I could or couldn’t do was defined, even if hidden away. So far, I had managed to stumble onto a single rule: the game didn’t like players disconnecting at random. If I didn’t want to be shackled each time I played, I had to find the proper exit sequence.

“I think it’s that way, Sarah!” Twinkle pointed forward as he floated down from the sky.

The area I had logged on to was very different from last time. There was no spring, no field, just a barren slope against a mountain. Unlike normal games, there were no maps or landmarks I could use as an identifiable marker.

“Map the area this time.” I didn’t want to get lost again.

“Sure thing, Sarah!” The cat smiled.

At present, there were two things I could see: vast plains stretching up to the horizon in front and a massive mountain behind. Since Twinkle wasn’t able to reach the mountain top—which was strange, given he was supposed to have full game observer status—I decided to go through the plains.

My mind kept going back to the real world. If Jeff arrived before I got back, it was very likely he would freak out and do something stupid like rush me into a hospital. An even scarier prospect was that someone else might find me before him. Kyle was keeping an eye on me, along with the group that kept sending the phantom messages, and then there was Legion. So far, he hadn’t tried to contact me since I had ignored his advice and joined the game, but I knew he was out there.

The walking continued for hours. The position of the game sun was the only indication I had of time passing. Twinkle’s clock had gone completely out of sync, changing every second I asked.

Crap! Did I start Claire’s app before passing through the gate? Part of me hoped so, but my memories between the conversation in Vesperia and my shackling remained a blur.

“Level fifty has been reached,” a loud voice boomed above me. “World shattering starting in twelve seconds.”

That couldn’t be good. I looked up. The sky had become crimson red, despite the sun being directly above. An eerie whistling sound filled the air as the wind picked up. I looked around for a place to hide. The plains continued for miles in every direction. The closest semblance of shelter was the mountain area I’d come from. Considering how long it had taken me to get here, running back wasn’t an option.

“Don’t worry,” a nearby voice said. “It won’t affect you.”

I turned around. “Twinkle, any mobs or players in the area?” I instinctively reached for my weapon, only to remember that I didn’t have one in this world.

“I can’t see anyone, Sarah.” The cat floated further up in the sky. “Do you want me to start a search?”

Clusters of black clouds appeared, blotting out the sky. The wind had increased to the point that I could barely stand. Crouching on the ground, I looked for something to grab ahold of.

“I told you not to worry,” the voice laughed, closer this time. “Stay calm, it will be over soon.”

The sea of clouds spun faster, forming a massive inverted cone, like a whirlpool in the sky. I watched it grow larger and larger. Then the wind suddenly stopped. A red bolt of lightning shot down from the center, crashing into the ground below. The silence was so dense I could hear my own heartbeat.

That was it? I looked around. Not as bad—

A massive boom of sound passed through me, making my ears ring. Before I could react, the clouds had completely vanished, as if they had never been.

“Poor soul,” the voice said beside me. “Hope life’s better for them on the outside.”

Cautiously, I stood up. There were a hundred questions I wanted to ask. This time, I decided to start with the basics. “Where are you?”

The air a few steps away flickered. The figure of a short man appeared. Unlike the players I’d seen so far, he was in his sixties, wrinkled and grey-haired, dressed in a simple brown robe. A large silver chain hung round his neck—a cross between shackles and gem encrusted amulets.

“Not what you expected?” The man smiled.

“No.” I’ve no idea what to expect. “What just happened?”

“That—” He looked up at the sky. “—was a world shattering event. It happens each time someone reaches level fifty. Somewhere, some unfortunate player has been ejected from the game, never to return.” The man shrugged. “It’s not always bad, though. As long as they are patient and don’t start blabbing about this place, there’s always the chance that they make it back.”

“So, it’s like a random game over?”

“You could call it that.” The man shrugged again. “There are a few who actually want to break free from the game. Weird people, but to each his own, I guess. I’d advise you to stay away from them.”

“I thought advice wasn’t free.” It was a well-known fact that ninety percent of the time, people were only nice when they were expecting to gain something. Another well-known fact was that ninety percent of all people claimed to fall in the other ten percent. So far, this guy had been unnaturally nice.

“You got that wrong,” the man laughed. “Advice is always free, it’s just rarely true.”

That was a new way to look at things. In the real world, everyone lied. Terms and contracts were designed in such fashion so that people had to swim through the lies to have an idea of what was going on. In the net, things were almost as bad, although there were certain principles allowing online societies to function. As one of my former friends used to say, “Lying is like salt—add too much and the whole thing gets butter.” He was never good at metaphors, but many of his sayings stuck.

“Take you, for example. I bet you’re already thinking how to take advantage of me without giving as much in return.”

I fought the urge to look away.

“Relax. All newbies act that way.” He glanced at the horizon. “How about we walk while talking? I don’t want to be in the plains after dark.”

“What happens after dark?” I asked on instinct.

“The light disappears,” he replied and started walking. Shortly later, I followed.

As we walked, I examined my shackles. The execution was top of the line, even if they followed game logic—a solid block of gold wrapped around my wrists as if it had been forged that way. There was no conceivable way to remove them outside of melting them off.

“How long have you been here?” The man asked without looking back.

“A few days,” I lied. “You?”

“A little more than that. Don’t worry about the chains, they’ll be off before you know it. As with everything in the game, punishments aren’t always bad.”

“Is that why I was protected?” That definitely would be an interesting system.

“No. All level hundreds are protected. It’s a newbie thing. Part of the overall logic, I guess. The people who built this definitely had a twisted way of looking at things.”

Sounded like most experimental games I’d been to. When I was younger, I used to frequent them a lot. Like all teenagers, it was more about being part of an edgy game, even if the quality was usually worse. “Indie online,” I used to call them. Nearly none of them had managed to survive for more than three months. Those that did usually were bought up by an actual game company and gradually changed until they joined the mainstream practices.

“So, what is this place?” I asked.

“You sure go for the big questions,” he laughed. “Are you always like this?”

“Probably.” I hated when people asked that question. Mostly because there was no way for me to answer.

“Remember that old trick game? You lose the game by asking about the game?”

Interestingly enough, I did. My grandfather used to joke about it when I was very young. Every now and again, as we were talking, he’d suddenly say “I lost the game,” then laugh. Several times, I asked him what the game was, and his answer always was the same: the game is not to ask about the game.

“This is a bit different. The point of the game is to find out what the game is about. That’s what the deleveling is for.”

“Deleveling?”

“That’s what makes this place special,” he went on. His voice had become slightly pensive. “Here, you level down as you gain experience. The further progress, the more levels you lose. The more levels you lose, the weaker you become and all the closer to the truth.” The man paused and turned towards me. “Only the ones with actual skill get to learn what’s going on. Makes perfect sense, right?”

For the first time in the last few days, I found something lighthearted enough to laugh. There was no telling what the man’s motivations were, but being with him felt relaxing. As we walked, I gradually learned a few things about the place I had fought so hard to be a part of.

From what I could make out, the man—or Spaff, as he referred to himself—had been in the game for at least a year. He never acknowledged it directly, but his lack of reaction to current memes and corporate policies suggested he’d been in-game for a while.

The game itself was a sort of reverse progress mystery. Players lost levels as they progressed, which was also the goal. The lower the level, the more respected and feared a person became. I, like any newbie, was at level one hundred, which granted me full godlike status. As long as I remained at my current level, I could use all game spells and items, wear any equipment, and be completely invulnerable to any game effects or damage. That was why neither the elf’s attack nor the red lightning bolt had harmed me. Apparently, whoever managed to reach level 0 would receive some prize. What prize exactly, Spaff didn’t want to get into, though he hinted it had to be something big. In all of this, there was just one catch: the game was like an addiction, and the more someone played, the more they wanted to remain inside.

“Do you know someone called John Smith?” I asked as we paused to take a rest. Despite this being virtual, exhaustion remained a thing. “He said he was a newbie guide.”

“Newbie snatcher,” Spaff snorted. “You’ll get a lot of those while your eyes are green. Snatchers, recruiters, outright liars. All they do is fill your head with crap in exchange for pacts. My personal advice, don’t listen to them.”

Too late about that. “He said that info here isn’t free.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Spaff waved dismissively. “Nothing is free, all information is valuable and all that. What did you tell him?”

“Nothing, I ejected.”

“I see.” He demonstratively glanced at my shackles. “Tell you what, sit down for a bit and I’ll give you some more free advice. Rationalize it as payment for your company.” A green sparkle of light appeared on his central amulet, covering it entirely. The glow then twisted, forming a whirlpool, only for Spaff to reach inside and take out a small goblet of emerald blue liquid.

The sight made my throat itch. It had been a while since I last drank and being in the perfect world simulation had made my mouth dry. The more I looked at the man’s drink, the more I yearned for a gulp.

“Want some?” Spaff asked between sips. I nodded, reaching out for the flask. Instead of giving it to me, he threw it on the ground. “First advice, no gifts while level a hundred.” What was left of the liquid seeped into the ground. “It’s an old trick to give poison. You won’t feel the effects while you’re protected, but the moment you hit level ninety-nine... bye bye game.”

“You said that might not be a bad thing.” I sat on the ground.

“I did, and now that you know it’s your choice. You can accept gifts or not. You can even finish what’s there,” he pointed at the nearly empty flask. “There’s a sip or two if you want them.”

A sip or two. I considered doing it just to spite him, but my disgust was too strong. About a decade ago there used to be thousands of people eating off the streets. It was a common sight marked by the growing number of impoverished. Slowly, the gradual and constant increase in living costs had made them vanish away. Less and less people were able to throw away unfinished food, including supermarkets who had shifted to organic block packaging. Natural foods were a luxury for the very rich in their gated communities. People like me were on a diet of protein bars and nutrient jello. What was left of the homeless either fled the cities, joined a techno sect, or survived by begging. When I moved to my current neighborhood, I had made a vow to try and avoid two things: living off trash and joining a cult. Thanks to my parents, my crappy job, and my paid gaming, I had managed to keep my promise so far.

“A lot of people have been saying the game is a choice,” I muttered. “Sounds like lawyer talk.”

“A bit.” He laughed. “Rumor is, that’s from the time help files were available. They say that when the game was first built, you could find hints everywhere. Supposedly, back then the creators felt like they should provide some instructions without spoiling the experience. So, they added phrases like “if you choose” to every available description. You can equip a knife and fight a dragon, if you choose. You could eat wild fruit without identifying it... if you choose.”

“So, what happened?” I leaned forward.

“Beats me,” The man shrugged. “The only help file I’ve seen is the level window. Going back to what I told you, there’s no guarantee that help files were ever a thing. Once you get your game invitation, that’s it. You’re on your own.”

Thinking back, I had never gotten an actual invitation, just an event pop-up message that appeared when I maxed my Vesperia character. I couldn’t be certain whether Spaff had misspoken, but it seemed there was more to this. Once outside, I was going to have Claire look into it.

“Any more advice?” I tried to stretch; the chains tugged on my collar.

“Maybe we should start with the basics. Like punishment.” The man smiled. “For every rule, there’s an exception, and every exception has a rule.” There was a slight pause as Spaff activated another of his amulets, summoning what looked like an apple. “There’s nothing that could harm you, though you still get punished for breaking rules, same as everyone else. With your lack of knowledge, that makes you extremely vulnerable, especially to others.”

“Such as John Smith,” I added, though in my mind I was thinking of Legion and Kyle... and the elf. The way she had forced me into our pact was worse than predatory money practices. I still had no idea what the pact involved or what the penalties for walking away were.

“John Smith is some low-level scammer. At most, he’d have asked for some minor benefit then left you with nothing. We have lots of those when we get newbies. Annoying, but mostly harmless. The recruiters are the ones you have to look out for. Keep an eye out in the village. If anyone approaches you, tell them you’re a free agent.”

“Good to know.” I felt a sense of deja vu. “What’s the village?”

“The place we’re heading to.” Spaff stood up. “Come along, it’ll be going dark in a few hours.”

We ended up not talking any more about rules and punishment. Spaff went into a long tirade about human nature and betrayal, going through all possible clichés. In the process, he happened to tell me a few things about the village we were going to. As the name suggested, it was a game hub, possibly one of many, though its actual purpose remained unclear. Spaff hinted it had been created as a gathering spot for players, though he didn’t provide a reason why players should actually go there. The one thing he did tell me was to keep my guard up at all times.

About an hour later, I felt Twinkle land on my head again. It then dawned on me, that since I’d met Spaff, Twinkle had been unusually quiet. Normally, he’d incessantly be flying about offering advice—mostly prompting me to buy a mod or service—and buying the annoying self he had been programmed to be. Now he remained quiet.

“Spaff, can we bring things in the game?” I asked. “Apps I mean.”

“Yep,” he nodded, walking on. “You can bring anything you like. Won’t do you any good. Game code and external code don’t mix.”

“What about my avatar?”

“My dear, this isn’t your avatar.” He looked at me as if I were a wannabe at a game convention. “This is you in the game. Learn to make the difference.”

“It’s still code,” I countered. “Even if it’s a different, it must be—“

Before I could finish, Spaff fell to the ground. My gaming instincts took over, making me follow. Even with this many differences, a game was a game—people reacted the same way when facing danger. By the way Spaff was reacting, the danger was at least a mid-tier boss. Two of his talismans glowed green, forcing him to cover them with both hands.

Don’t make a sound. I heard his voice in my head. If they hear you, we’re both ejected.

So much for me being protected. I remained still, looking straight forward as if the slightest motion could give my position away. For seconds, I held my breath, trying to spot the approaching danger... and then I saw it. It started as a grayish dot above the horizon, slightly standing out on the orange line of sky. As it drew near, details began to appear. A tail emerged from the dot, twisting and spinning like a gyroscope. When it approached closer, I saw that the whole creature was a tail, a tail with fangs—as if someone had gone through a list of exotic mythological creatures and had decided to give them a more modern, simplified look.

Don’t look at its eyes, Spaff said, making me wonder if the creature even had eyes. When I focused to try and check, a ray of blue light emerged from the ground hitting it head on.

“Idiot,” Spaff hissed.

The flying snake recoiled, twisting violently. Another ray of light hit it, then a third. By any indication, whatever was launching the light had the upper hand. Seeing a health bar would have helped, but based on animation reaction, at least a quarter of its life total must have gone. I rose slightly, to get a better view.

“Are you alright, Sarah?” Twinkle meowed softly in one of his alarmed states.

“No worries, I won’t engage him.” As if I even could. With my current lack of items, the most I could do was throw extremely small stones at him. Maybe when we reached the village, I could somehow get a knife.

“Wise choice,” Spaff said, ignoring Twinkle’s comment altogether.

Two more rays of light emerged in the distance, blasting into the sky creature. This time, though, they didn’t push it back. The snake uncoiled, stretching out like an enormous needle at a forty-five-degree angle to the ground. A single spot of light flickered on the creature’s head, then it darted forward. I didn’t catch the moment it hit the ground; by the time my mind registered the movement, there already was a pillar of dust rising up in the distance.

“Game over.” The old man stood up, more annoyed than concerned.

“What happened?” I did the same, picking up Twinkle and placing him on my shoulder.

“Someone tried to take a shortcut and got ejected. Next piece of advice.” He raised a finger. “Don’t let power get to your head.”

“No chance of that.” If there was anything I lacked right now besides information, it was power. “What was that thing?”

“That was the most chaotic and unstable entity known to the game.” Spaff rubbed the dirt off his hands in his robe. “I, personally, refer to it as a newbie.”

The joke was terrible, but made me chuckle nonetheless. My father used to attempt similar jokes when I was a child. I could always tell he tried, but the generation gap was too large. It didn’t help that his job had made him all but quit gaming, losing touch with what little cultural references there were.

“The other was a culling worm,” he went on. “Normally they guard the southern chain, but the influx of new players has stirred them up.”

“So much for being protected.” I rubbed Twinkle under the chin. The cat didn’t purr.

“Culling worms are the exception. Their entire purpose is to seek out and kill hundred level players. An incentive to keep players advancing, if you will. There’s speculation that for every day a person stays at level hundred, he doubles the distance at which he could be spotted. Just a theory. Not many want to experiment to find out. Take up to a week to get the feel of things, then move on to level ninety-nine.”

I looked at my golden shackles. The fun keeps piling up.

One day in and I’d already learned that there’s a boss monster type dedicated to hunting me down. Spaff had suggested I spend less than a week at my current level. What would he say if I had been at it for a full three months? I could only hope that the rules only applied from the moment I physically set foot in the game. If not, it was going to be a short experience, and if Kyle wasn’t lying and I needed weekly game sessions in order to remain sane, I could end up in the madhouse by year’s end.