Congratulations, you've managed to not starve or become an involuntary organ donor! Now it's time for the slightly more cerebral part of survival: Information Gathering. Knowing is half the battle; the other half is usually frantic flailing and hoping your cheat skill kicks in.
In a new world, information is more valuable than gold (unless you need gold to buy information, which is often the case). Your goal is to move from "Utterly Clueless Newbie" (a title some Systems literally assign) to "Vaguely Informed Newbie." Baby steps.
Primary Information Sources:
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The Tavern/Inn: A classic for a reason. Alcohol loosens lips. Sit in a dark corner, nurse a cheap drink (if you can afford one), and listen. Pay attention to:
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Local Gossip: Who's feuding with whom? Any recent monster attacks? Strange occurrences? Juicy scandals? All potential quest hooks or warnings.
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Mercenary/Adventurer Banter: Boasts of loot, complaints about dungeons, warnings about dangerous areas. Filter out the obvious exaggeration (no one really solos a dragon at Level 5).
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Merchant Grumbling: Trade routes, shortages, taxes, guild politics. Useful for identifying economic opportunities or potential trouble spots.
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Guard Complaints: Patrol routes, wanted criminals, incompetent superiors. Knowing where the law is (and isn't) can be vital.
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The Marketplace: The heart of commerce is also a hub of information. Listen to haggling, public announcements, arguments, and casual chatter. Observe:
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Goods: What's common? What's rare/expensive? This tells you about local resources and needs.
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People: How do different groups interact? Who seems wealthy/powerful? Are there non-human races and how are they treated? Spotting faction symbols or uniforms is key.
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Bounty Boards/Public Notices: Often posted here. Literal quest prompts and warnings. Requires literacy (check your System or find someone trustworthy to read for you).
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Whispers in the Shadows (Advanced): Thieves' guilds, informants, shady contacts. High-quality information often comes at a high price or risk. Not recommended until you have some standing or protection. Attempting this too early usually results in you being the information (e.g., "What happened to that weird new guy asking too many questions?").
Information Gathering Etiquette (How Not to Get Stabbed for Being Nosy):
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Be Subtle: Don't stare intently while scribbling notes. Blend in. Look bored or preoccupied.
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Ask Carefully: If you must ask questions, start simple. "Which way to the North Gate?" is safer than "So, tell me about the secret demon cult rumored to meet under the old temple!"
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Target Appropriately: Innkeepers, stable hands, and non-chain store merchants are often good sources for general info. Approaching the Duke's elite guard or the hooded figure sharpening knives in the corner is ill-advised.
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Verify: Rumors are just that. Cross-reference information if possible. Don't bet your life on something heard from a drunkard named 'Stabby Pete'.
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Don't Reveal Your Ignorance (Too Much): Feign basic knowledge. If someone mentions the 'Gloomfang Mountains,' nod thoughtfully, don't ask "What's a mountain?"
Knowledge is power. Specifically, the power to avoid blundering into a nest of Cockatrices or accidentally insulting the Archmage's apprentice. Gather wisely.
(Next Module Teaser: Skills, Combat, and Why Your First Fight Will Probably Hurt. A Lot.)
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
[Kevin's Story: Part 4 - The Salty Siren and Awkward Questions]
Despair, even the minor, system-inflicted kind, was exhausting. Kevin hauled himself out of the slop-adjacent alley, feeling grimy, hungry, and acutely aware of his LUK 3 status. The puddle-roll incident was a harsh reminder: direct action seemed cursed. But maybe indirect action? Information gathering?
The name from Finn's memory echoed: The Salty Siren. It was a lead, however tenuous. Maybe finding the place where Finn was last seen (or killed?) would provide... something. Context? Closure? A chance to get clocked himself? Who knew!
He activated [Urban Navigation (Slums)] again. "Okay, System, less 'opportunistic scavenging spots,' more 'disreputable taverns matching the description Salty Siren'?"
The mental overlay flickered, highlighting a path leading towards what looked like the docks district – fitting for the name. It involved more alleys, but also navigating slightly wider, crowded streets. He pulled his ragged hood lower, trying to look inconspicuous, like just another piece of the city's downtrodden scenery.
He focused on listening, trying to put the (unseen) Guide's advice into practice. Snippets of conversation floated by:
"...price of fish is outrageous..."
"...guards cleared out the Nest again, won't last..."
"...heard the Sea Serpent Guild is recruiting muscle..."
"...another ship vanished near the Serpent's Tooth isles..."
It was a confusing jumble, but themes emerged: poverty, crime, guilds, dangerous waters. Standard fantasy port city stuff, really. He kept Finn's tavern sign image in mind.
After fifteen minutes of navigating smells ranging from brine and fish guts to cheap perfume and stale beer, he found it. Tucked between a warehouse and a shop selling dubious nautical charts, hung a weather-beaten sign depicting a crudely painted, less-than-alluring mermaid. The Salty Siren. It looked exactly like the flash of memory.
The place oozed rough atmosphere. Loud shouts and laughter spilled out the door, along with the smell of spilled ale and fried grease. This was definitely not the place to ask loudly, "Did anyone here recently murder a guy named Finn?"
Kevin hesitated. Going inside felt like walking into a shark tank wearing chum-flavored boots. But standing outside indefinitely would attract attention too. He needed a plan. Information. Subtle questions.
He noticed a couple of rough-looking sailors stumbling out, arguing loudly about a card game. Nearby, an old man sat on a crate, mending a fishing net with surprising dexterity, seemingly oblivious to the tavern's chaos. Safer target?
Kevin approached cautiously. "Excuse me," he began, his voice cracking slightly. The System's [Foreign Language Comprehension] worked, but speaking still felt awkward, like ventriloquism. "I'm... new around here. Looking for someone."
The old man glanced up, his eyes sharp and assessing despite his weathered face. "Lot o' people lookin' for someone in Port Azure," he rasped, not pausing his work. "Usually means they owe 'em coin or trouble."
Port Azure. Okay, city name acquired. Ding!
[Hidden Objective Discovered: Gain Basic World Knowledge!]
[Sub-Objective Complete: Learn City Name (Port Azure)]
[Reward: +2 EXP]
Two whole experience points! Kevin felt vaguely insulted. "No, not like that," he said quickly. "He... uh... worked around the docks, I think. Young man, name of Finn?" He held his breath.
The old man's hands stilled for a fraction of a second before resuming their rhythmic work. "Finn? Skinny lad? Bit of a mouth on him?"
Kevin's heart leaped. "Yes! That sounds like him!"
The old man squinted at Kevin. "Why you lookin' for Finn? He owes you coin?"
"No! I... heard he might have work? Odd jobs?" Kevin improvised lamely.
The old man snorted, a dry, humorless sound. "Finn ain't workin'. Not anymore. Got himself cracked over the skull in the alley behind the Siren 'bout three nights back. Found him bleedin' out. Shame. Wasn't smart, but he weren't all bad."
Three nights ago. Blunt force trauma. Just like the System and the memory suggested. Kevin felt a chill despite the humid air. "Oh," he said softly. "That's... terrible. Did they catch who did it?"
The old man shrugged, tying off a knot. "Guards asked questions. Usual suspects got leaned on. Nothin' came of it. Fights happen. Drunks get stupid. Finn probably mouthed off to the wrong sort. Happens all the time down here." He finally looked directly at Kevin. "You sure he didn't owe you coin? Or you didn't owe him?"
"No, nothing like that," Kevin insisted, feeling the old man's sharp gaze. "Just... looking for opportunities. Thanks for the information."
He backed away slowly, the old man already focused back on his net. Kevin had confirmation. Finn O'Malley, his unwilling body donor, was small-time trouble, murdered three days ago behind the very tavern he was now standing in front of. It wasn't a grand conspiracy, just... sordid, mundane violence. Which was somehow more terrifying.
Ding!
[Quest Updated: Survive & Diagnose!]
[Objective 1 Complete!]
[Objective 2 Complete!]
[Objective 3 Complete!]
[NEW Objective 4: Understand Your Predecessor (Learn Finn's Fate - 1/1)]
[Reward Updated: +5 EXP, Title: [Slightly Less Clueless]]
[New Quest Issued!]
[Quest: Basic Needs - The Grind Begins]
[Objective 1: Obtain 10 Copper Pieces (Local Currency)]
[Objective 2: Secure Shelter for One Night (Non-Alley)]
[Objective 3: Consume a Proper Meal (Non-Puddle Flavored)]
[Reward: 25 EXP, [Basic Toolkit (Poor Quality)], +1 STR]
[Failure Penalty: Increased chance of encountering nighttime predators (both human and otherwise), Status Effect: [Malnourished]]
Kevin stared at the new quest notification. Ten copper pieces? A proper meal? Shelter? It sounded simple, but after the puddle-roll incident, it felt like climbing a mountain. He had no money, no job, terrible luck, and was inhabiting the body of a recently murdered small-time mouthy guy in a rough port city.
He glanced back at the Salty Siren, then down at his empty hands and ragged clothes. Yeah. This second life wasn't going to be easy. But at least now, he had a goal beyond 'don't die immediately.' He had to start the grind. And maybe, just maybe, avoid getting cracked over the skull like poor Finn.