I used to wake up in my home.

My bed was an island of familiar comfort, keeping me from drowning in a world of chores and responsibilities. More than that, it was where I could dream. There's that old question of whether androids dream of electric sheep, and in a manner of speaking: Yes.

I've dreamt of leaving Eunistead ever since my dad took me on a trading trip down south to Badgerhill, the Gnomish settlement. The honeycakes left behind quite the impression on thirteen-years-old me. It was impossible to eat one without long sticky stretches of sweet golden strands just getting everywhere. "A part of the experience!" my dad would say, his mouth stuffed with as many cakes as he could fit at once. The record is two and one third if you're curious. Have to hand it to him though, he was right. I miss him. And the cakes. 

Of course, I knew that we all had a role to play in the village. I cherished being with my friends, supporting my family, hell, I was even excited for my part to play in the questline. But in my dreams, there was no questline. I was free to give in to the pull. I would fly over an uncharted map and visit town after town, kingdom after kingdom. Sometimes I'd have wings, other times, I was already light enough that they'd be redundant. But like clockwork, something would begin pulling me back in the other direction. Something worth waking up for.

I used to wake up to the sweet smells of fresh cornbread baking in the oven.

Slowly, I would come alive from underneath the blankets. I'd start as a wriggling mass of wool and cotton. Then, a pale arm would slither out, surrendering a soft shake as I'd stretch them out, grasping for my breakfast. I'd sit up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I would be able to blink the world slowly into focus; Shapes would become more complex, edges would soften, and my mom would come into view.

"Mornin' sleepy-head." she would say. 

Used to say.

She doesn't come into view this time. She's not there to call me sleepy-head and there's no aroma of cornbread lingering in the air. No matter how many times I blink, she's still gone. No that's not quite right either, is it? My mother—my whole family—nobody, nobody that I knew even exists anymore. 

I didn't have a dream last night.  I didn't even get to wake up. 

Today, I initialized.

There was no time to waste, what used to be Eunistead was now just more of the Bountiful Grove. I used to know the grove, spending days setting up traps with my mom. This? This is just new terrain to me, but as I said, I know the grove. All I had to find was a large enough clearing that I could set up a shelter. 

It really shouldn't be hard. Without my village here, there's plenty of resources for me to just, take. Right?
On second thought. How do I gather resources? I don't have the skills for that. 

Okay. So that's cool. I'm alone. In the woods. Cursed without the ability to gather any of the plentiful resources here in the BOUNTIFUL GROVE. 

That's a honeycake I can't wait to eat. Slash "S" for sarcasm, amirite?

Ah, yes. There's the almond shavings on top. This must be the wrong side of the bed I've been warned about.

Oh for fu— as if it couldn't get worse. 

Players.