Orville Grossman woke up suddenly. He was slumped in his gaming chair with his headphones sitting askew on his head. He sat up confused, absently wiping a string of drool from his fleshy face. His room was dark, and he could hear the staccato sound of rain on his roof. “What the fuck?” He looked around and it took a minute for his eyes to adjust to the dark. There was a small sliver of light coming in through the crack under his bedroom door. He turned to his desk and tapped on his keyboard, but his monitor stayed dark. He checked his computer, but it too was unable to power up. With a huff and a slight groan, he stood up and with a pause, he settled his large bulk and made his way to his door. His pudgy hand flicked the light switch on and off, but the room stayed shrouded in darkness.
“Ma!” He yelled. There was no response. He stood at his door and yelled again, this time much louder, “MA! Power’s out!” And again, he was greeted with only the sound of rain. Frustrated, he opened his door to yell once more, but his voice died on his lips.
Where once there was a short hallway that led to the bathroom and kitchen and then on to the rest of the house, there was now a massive scar of wreckage and debris. It was as if someone had taken a gigantic rake and dragged it through the house, destroying everything in its path. Looking left and right, all Orville could see was destruction. His neighbors’ homes were destroyed in a straight line down the block. It looked like there had been small fires here and there, but the rain had already put them out. Scanning the area, he saw what looked like part of a jet engine embedded in the Henderson’s house across the street.
Orville stood shocked. How had he slept through such a catastrophe? Why was his room not destroyed or at least things knocked over? Where was his mom!? The last thing he knew; she had been in the kitchen making him a snack. But now, the entire rest of the house was simply gone. In a small voice he asked, “Ma?” He couldn’t bring himself to step out the door even as he heard the voices of his neighbors. People began calling out. There were cries and shouts and within a few minutes the area was full of the sounds of people discovering the horrible damage done to their community.
As he stood unable to move, rain pattering off his front and slowly drenching his shirt and pants, a screen of energy with writing on it appeared directly in front of him.
Orville blinked. The screen hung there, defying physics. He closed his eyes tightly then opened them only to see the screen still there. He read the notice once more. Huh. He thought. He took a step back away from his door and the screen followed him. He turned around and the screen continued in his direct field of view. No motion blur. No lag. He made his way over to his bedroom window and with a grunt of effort, he pulled down his blackout curtain then peeked through his blinds. His backyard was still intact and so were the houses butting up against the property. The screen continued in his view, but it was translucent enough for him to partially see through it.
He moved away from the window and sat down on the edge of his bed. His mind had trouble processing the fact that his mother was not here. He somehow knew, deep down, that she was most likely dead. If a plane had really crashed and wiped out half the block and most of his house, then it stood to reason that his mom was gone. He felt numb, but he pushed it away in favor of confronting the enigma in front of him. Later. I can figure out Mom, later.
He read the message one more time and then made the decision to believe it. Like a switch had been flipped, he immediately began trying to manipulate the apparition. It was far easier than he expected. His years of gaming and understanding the fundamental mechanics in most games came in handy. Orville was not a popular kid. He was grossly overweight, his doctor called him obese. He had diabetes and high blood pressure, and he was only seventeen. He was a constant source of entertainment for the school bullies, so he became somewhat of a recluse. He began to play video games and dove into their programming and functions. He eventually became very well-known online as someone that could pull game data from “unhackable” games.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
In real life he may have been the “Fat Kid” named Orville, but online, he was hailed as a computer genius called HakkerGod_69. If he could break the code of the “unbreakable” game, Call of War, he could certainly figure out this real-life system. He briefly wished that his best friend Malcolm were here. He knew that together they could probably figure out the best classes to take. But Malcolm was in Sacramento with his sister and her boyfriend and the Debray’s at a comic con. Man, that Brynn is hot. He shook himself out of his daydream of the young blonde and went back to the task at hand.
Since there was no physical interface, he began by willing the current screen to close, which it promptly did. So far, so good. He then began thinking of different options to try and open more screens. He quickly familiarized himself with his status page then focused on the classes available to him. He bypassed the basic classes. In his mind if you were offered a premium class, you could pretty much guarantee anything on offer was going to be way better than any basic class.
Orville took some time to read each class description while mentally trying to keep track of how long he had before his thirty minutes was up. The Eldritch Spellblade looked cool, but he had the feeling that if Malcolm was offered the same or similar, that he’d take it right away and Orville did not want to duplicate someone else’s class. The two shadow classes were interesting, but they both relied on stealth and agility as a main component and looking at himself, he just could not see a three hundred plus pound kid sneaking through the darkness. No, those were right out. Blood Ritualist? Gross. Nope. That left Elemental Knight and Arcane Guardian. Both had merit, but the Elemental Knight seemed like there would be a lot of the same abilities, just flavored with different elements. Lightning Bolt, Ice Bolt, Earth Bolt, etc… Honestly, while it seemed powerful, it was kind of boring. So, he looked closer at Arcane Guardian.
Orville checked the skill descriptions as well.
Wonder why it gives a one-handed weapon skill, but no weapon. Seems kinda dumb. Oh well, beggars and all that. Besides, Orville had plenty of swords to choose from. He looked over at the wall above his bed and the swords he had on display. He had several katanas as well as a few swords from the Lord of the Rings movies. Unfortunately, all of those were replicas and were probably fragile in a real fight. If this whole system thing was to be believed, then he was certain he’d be facing monsters and other people with weapons. No, his best choice would have to be the sword he got at the renaissance fair a few years back. It was made by a real blacksmith and had a very sharp edge. Orville thought the sword looked badass with its batwing shaped cross guard, and the thing was solid. Definitely that one. Probably gonna have to give it a name.
Fearing that his time was running out, he decided to take the Arcane Guardian class. He got a prompt asking if he wanted to choose it and he went ahead and said yes. He felt a weird tingle all over and then he decided to check his status again.
As he was going over his stats, he lamented that it seemed like the System deemed his physical abilities lacking. At least he had gotten a good Intellect score. He also had three points to place in any stat or stats that he wanted. Gotta be smart about this. He knew that he would gain an extra point in Endurance and Willpower every level, so he could afford to place his free points into other stats to keep him balanced. Giving it some thought, he decided to bump his three Body stats up one each. This would place an extra point in Endurance, but he figured that was going to be a key stat for him if he had to run at any point.
