“In the initial release of the REMbox hardware, there had been a host of concerns and hesitations about all that could go wrong with the device. There had been an outcry about the possibilities of mind control, brainwashing, neurodegenerative disease and addiction. It didn’t matter how transparent the development of the hardware was or how much testing it underwent or how many laws were passed, people were convinced that the devices were going to bring about the fall of civilization.

In retrospect, the panic had given fledgling REMsoft developers all the free advertising they could have ever asked for.”

-Book excerpt, The Rise of the Dreamscape: The History of REMsoft by Amanda Baker published February 22nd, 2031

_______________________________

It’s a little difficult to explain the transition from being awake to being plugged into the REMbox interface. You just suddenly realize with a shock that you’re there… standing in this giant green field and with a computer window is hovering in front of you without any memory of how you got there. There was the ghostly REMbox logo with that stylized eye and the welcome screen hovering in the air at eye level. 

[Welcome to REMos, Version 3.28.44. The time is 8:22 PM].

Though most people didn’t bother, I really had taken the time to personalize my system’s desktop area. The default empty field background was so boring. I had the home field customized with massive sprawling castles and dragons circling above. My avatar, a cartoony little figure of a knight in a suit of armor matched the overall theme. I reached out my arm, bringing up the metallic gauntlet to bring up my game library by tapping the folder icon.

And there it was. Realms of Eternal Magic. Fully downloaded and registered. Not ghosted out. Not locked. Now live, installed and ready to go. 

I took a deep breath. It really didn’t do much in the dream space, but it was helpful. I tapped on the game’s icon and loaded up.

Everything went black.

I had been expecting a big, sweeping intro cinematic, like most games I had played up to that point. There would be this big orchestral score and the images of a climactic battle and flyovers of vast landscapes and there would be the burning logo of RoEM.

But there wasn’t. I simply found myself in the middle of a forest.

I blinked in surprise, caught off guard by the sudden transition. The large trees towered above me, their wide branches letting in only fragments of the sun above. The smell of the woods, that earthy rich smell, floated into my nostrils. There was a tinge of wetness to the air and in the ground beneath, as if a recent rain had come through. There were the distant noises of birds chirping echoing deeper into the forest.

I looked down at myself.

I was wearing a dress.

I stopped, frozen as the realization crashed into me. 

I was actually wearing a dress. It was a plain white dress with thin, silky fabric, pulled against my body to show that...

I had breasts.

I felt like my head was going to explode at that realization. They weren’t massive or anything. The bra that I had borrowed from Paige was only a B-cup after all, but they were there. I actually had cleavage.

I poked at them, just to confirm that they were attached to me. They were. These lumps of fat on my chest were actually (in the game) my own. I could feel the sensation of my fingertip on my flesh.  They belonged to me. 

I looked around, trying to make sure that nobody would pop out of the woods and yell “A-HA! LOOK AT THE PERVERT!”

There wasn’t. I cupped them, surprised by the weight and the softness. I knew, of course, that RoEM wouldn’t let me get away with anything too “naughty”. The sensations weren’t supposed to be erotic or anything.  It wasn’t one of those kinds of games, even if there were supposed to be zillions of them floating around the REMnet. 

I peeked under the neckline of my dress (feeling my face burn with a deep blush as I did so) I found that I was wearing a bra. I tried to peel at it, and the underwear remained absolutely glued to my skin. 

It was skinlocked, of course, hard coded not to be able to be removed and show anything objectionable. Essentially superglued to my “naughty bits”. I brazenly pulled up the hem of my dress and found I had skinlocked panties as well. My breath caught in my chest.

It was flat. Underneath the underwear, there was no sign of any male parts. No bulging. I was a girl. In a dress. And I looked like one, completely.

I hugged myself, sinking to the floor of the forest. I felt my knees dig into the soft dirt of the woodlands. So many feelings washed over me in a massive, confusing torrent that threatened to drown me beneath their weight. 

Shame, of course, because I had lied and cheated for this. This wasn’t my real body. I didn’t really look like this. This was all fake. And here I was looking at and touching this fake body like the perverted freak that I was.

Excitement, as I had finally become closer to my dreams than I had ever thought possible. I could, in this moment, feel like a girl. Look like one and have other people see me as one.

Confusion, as I had no idea what to do next or what this meant for me. Why was I having these feelings at all? Was this normal? Guys shouldn’t act like this or think like this. What was wrong with me?

But there was another feeling overwhelming everything else, surging out of my chest so strongly that it almost hurt. It took me a moment to realize what it was.

Joy. I was happy. So incredibly happy. I just cried and laughed and hugged my chest and felt the weight of my real, feminine breasts and patted the flatness of my real feminine lady bits to remind myself they were there. I ended up lying there on the soft dirt, carried away in an emotional hurricane for who knew how long.

Finally, wiping the tears away and finding my feet, I took stock of the situation. I made a vague, circular wave of my hand to display the inventory screen as you generally did for these kinds of games. My vision grew a little darker and the words in front of my eyes appeared.

QUIT TO DESKTOP?

[YES] [NO]

That was it. I tried a few other common gestures but that was the only interface option I could bring up. There was a small [!] icon in the corner, but all it did was bring up the option to REPORT AN ISSUE. I had no desire to tell anyone about what I was experiencing right now. 

I made another circle with my hand to close the menu.

As far as I could tell, I was literally starting the game as a girl dropped in the middle of the woods with nothing but my clothes to my name. I scanned the horizon for quest markers or for any kind of minimap, but there was nothing.

I did notice that the rich dirt path led further into the forest, out of this small clearing. There were no other paths through the dense woods, and given that I wasn’t wearing shoes, I figured that this was the only path available to me.

I walked down it, still amazed by the realism and scale of the forests surrounding me. The faint breeze rustled through the branches and caressed my skin. It was beautiful out here. I really hadn’t ever gotten the chance to appreciate this kind of natural beauty before. 

I noticed there was a small patch of wild flowers sitting in a sunbeam created by a break in the forest canopy. They were pink, star-shaped flowers with red at the edges. 

I stooped down and picked one. I smelled it and the fragrance was incredible. I had never played a game that actually had smell integrated with the gameplay like this. Most games treated it as a waste of space to code it in, but clearly RoEM was dedicated to making things as realistic as possible. Literally allowing players to “stop and smell the flowers”.

I stuck the flower in my hair, smiling slightly, and continued down the path.

As I moved forward, there was a growing sound filling the woods. The sound of running water. The path drew me next to a break in the thick trees, where a small stream snaked its way over the smooth river rocks and cut through the surrounding woods. I stepped up to the shore, feeling the cold, wet, smooth rocks under my bare feet. I could feel the water. It’s coldness. The small force of the current straining against me. 

I looked down and as the light of a sunbeam hit the water just right, I saw my reflection.

It was me. It was Zoey. I could see my face… breaking into a wide smile.

I had to take a few more deep breaths to keep from falling apart again, but even so, the grin on my face just didn’t want to go away.

She was so beautiful… and her reflection was actually my own.

I stooped down again and picked up a handful of the smooth stones. I wasn’t expecting any real combat in this sort of tutorial, but I wasn’t taking any chances either. A few rocks might chase away any low-level monsters.

Besides, I wanted to figure out how the inventory system worked anyway. How were items stored?

But, as far as I could tell, it worked the way it did in real life. You carry things in your hands. I didn’t have a backpack or a bag of any sort to hold anything. I was a little disappointed to find that this dress I was wearing didn’t even have pockets.

So, now armed with rocks and a pretty flower, I continued forward along the path, following the river. With every step forward, I found that there were these subtle sounds which began to overpower the sound of the stream. A sort of whooshing sound, a clunking sound, the sound of... animals?

As I followed the bend in the stream’s path, I saw, in the distance, a break in the forest. The light breaking through the branches and trunks.

Excited, I picked up the pace and rushed down the path to see what lay at the end. My breath caught in my chest as I realized what I was looking at.

Reaching down a hill, stretching out into a wide clearing… It was a town. No… a city. It was so big. A real, honest fantasy city.

It was split into two centers of activity.

I could see that some people had embedded themselves in a large overhanging rock face which jutted out of the earth beneath. 

It appeared to have been carved to show little windows which people were visible within the shaped stone. The stone overhang had a massive waterfall which poured a thick curtain of water over an equally massive waterwheel, driving it in circles. I could see the wheel’s axle supported by the huge wooden frame which straddled the river and the falls and had all kinds of wooden shacks sort of grafted onto it. I could see a dense network of spinning gears and axles splintering off from the massive one, apparently offering waterpower to the rest of the area.

This massive river had fed into the small stream I had followed into the city. Its watery web spread over the whole clearing with other streams stretching across the clearing.

The very bottom of the waterwheel had what looked to be short, stout people working in teams to haul massive stretches of timber to a sizable wooden building. They streamed out of the buildings with smaller planks. They were cutting up the timber for carpentry.

I saw that the waterfall also had the mouth of a massive cave behind it, which provided access to the carved stone rooms within.

This amazing sight was only half of the story of this town, though.

Away from the cliff face and the falls, there was the tree. It absolutely towered over the surrounding woods and created a clearing under its enormous canopy. And built into the tree’s massive trunk and branches were homes and/or businesses. It was massive... like a giant wooden skyscraper. Spiraling stairs and platforms passed in front of storefronts and homes as they snaked their way up the tree. I saw what looked to be makeshift elevators, small basket-like platforms, which hung on ropes draped over the tallest branches which allowed people to quickly ascend or descend the tree. The tree and the cliff face were clearly the twin bustling centers of commerce.

Beyond those two sights, there were small patches of sunlight streaming through breaks in the canopy. They were wide squares which made me think that they were specifically carved out to allow them to get the sunlight they needed. Farmlands with tilled fields and small cottages filled those sunny patches with the beginnings of crops peeking out of their soil. The web of streams ran by them, providing moisture to the crops. Farm animals like oxen and horses were visible plowing the fields and pulling carts.

I was so lost in the spectacle of this massive fantasy town that I didn’t even notice that I wasn’t alone.

“Um...”

I jumped in shock. I fumbled with my rocks, dropping them onto the ground. I looked around frantically and saw no-one. Only with a second pass of looking around and lowering my head  slightly did I see what a young girl looking owlishly up at me. She couldn’t have been much older than six.

She had wide, green, slitted eyes like a cat and her sunny blonde hair tied into some intricate braids which hung off her head in loops. I noticed with a start, that she had pointed ears which visibly stuck out from her head.

She was wearing a dress made of some kind of strange material, like velvet but with veins set into the material. Like it was a specially grown leaf. She had a small belt cinched around her waist with a collection of pouches.

“Excuse me, miss,” said the girl, her voice soft and unsure, “are you a human?”

Pushing past that familiar burst of glee at being called “Miss”, I considered the question. I was one, as far as I knew.

“Yes?” I said, my stomach fluttering a little bit at the sound of my voice.

“Oh...” said the girl, shuffling her feet awkwardly, “um... I’m supposed to find a grown-up when I see a human. Can... can you wait here so I can get my daddy please, miss human?”

I blinked. “Uh... sure.”

“Thank you!” she said, curtsying and scampering off.

I had to admit I was still a little nervous, though. I had no idea what this elf(?) girl was going to bring back to me. Maybe her dad… but maybe he would come at me with an angry mob. I didn’t think they would throw a boss battle or anything at me this early in the game, but everything I thought I knew about MMORPGs was being tested right now.

There were no MP or HP bars or minimaps or anything I had expected up until now. There was just a brand-new world with a brand-new me without any real direction.

I was relieved to find that it was just a single man that the girl brought back. He was tall, lean and dressed in a leather vest and pants with a hoe leaning on his shoulder. He had the same ears and eyes that the girl did, his blonde hair cut short and tied in a small ponytail at the base of his head.

His eyes narrowed slightly as he caught sight of me. 

“Look daddy!” said the girl, pointing at me,”I found one! Found a human!”

“Well done, Melody...” said the girl’s father, his voice calm, but with an undercurrent of caution. His eyes slowly combed over me. “Run along home, sweetheart,” he said, not looking down at the girl as he spoke.

“But Daddy!” said Melody indignantly, “I wanna talk to the human!”

“Melody...” said her father, his voice tense, “now.”

“Okay...” sighed Melody, crestfallen. She sadly waved at me. “Bye, miss human lady.”

Still uncertain, I waved back as she slowly wandered away.

As soon as she was out of earshot, the elf man sighed, planting his tool onto the ground and leaning on his hoe as if it were a walking stick.

“So...” said the man, looking visibly weary, “You woke up in the forest without any idea how you got there and no idea how to get home, right?”

I nodded, still unsure of where this was going.

“And of course you don’t know a thing about this world, do you?”

I nodded again.

“Great… more of you… and you probably won’t be the last. We’ve had a whole mess of them popping up in town,” sighed the man, “they say humans appear in times of great change and strife or the like. Lots of people think you folk are bad omens.” He cleared his throat and shuffled his stance slightly. “I reserve such judgment personally. Such things are for the gods to decide. But don’t be too surprised if the people here aren’t exactly happy to see you. We have long memories and the past is not so easily forgotten,” He eyed me critically. “You got a name?”

“Zoey,” I said earnestly.

“My name’s Liam. Liam Brown. Welcome to Whiteoak Falls,” said the man, “If you’ll follow me, we’ll see if we can get you settled with the others.”

“Settled?” I asked, bewildered.

“Well, we’ll do our level best to help you find your feet. The gods ask us to offer hospitality to those in need, and we will abide by that calling,” said Liam, leading me down the dirt path towards the center of town, “but the town only survives if everyone does their part. We can’t have a bunch of humans lying around and eating all the food without contributing, after all.”

I nodded. “So you’re going to find me a job?” While Dad had been pestering me to start looking for a summer job, somehow the idea of working in this world was a little more appealing.

“That’s the plan,” said Liam evenly, “I’ve heard stories of humans at work and you’re supposed to be quick studies. We get you an apprenticeship and you’ll probably be experts within a month. I don’t suppose you’re any good at farming?” He eyed me with some interest.

I had never been to a farm in my life. I shook my head.

“Course not,” sighed Liam, “you humans are all about adventure and glory-seeking. Fighting monsters and such. Never think about settling down and earning an honest day’s living. You’d much rather find it in a treasure chest or under a sleeping dragon.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. I mean, he wasn’t wrong, exactly. That was precisely what was expected in virtually every other game I had played. But it hadn’t really occurred to me what NPCs would think about the way players like me would usually act. 

We really did spend all our time running around killing things and looting bodies and ancient ruins and just collecting gold to get better equipment to do it all again. We must seem crazy to the normal folks who just try to get by in a safe, dependable job.

But who would want to play an RPG that was nothing but farming all day? Where would be the fun in that?

We wanted to be heroes. And everything we’d been taught said that farming wasn’t heroic.

As we made our way into Whiteoak Falls, more and more eyes were turned to stare at me. Elves and what I assumed to be dwarves, as they were shorter and stockier with the men having thick beards, were stopping in their work and traveling to stare at me. They fell quiet in my presence and mumbled and whispered amongst themselves.

It was deeply uncomfortable. Even if I knew that my gender was hard-coded into the game at this point, I still worried that the NPCs were seeing through my pretending. As if any minute they would all start screaming at me that I was a fake.

“Sorry, miss,” said Liam, looking over his shoulder apologetically, “we’re still getting used to all these humans around us. Don’t take it personally.”

I nodded, even if I still felt that tightness in the pit of my stomach. Girl or not… I still wasn’t normal here.

We moved forward near the base of the roaring falls, alongside the pooling waters. I realized that at the mouth of the cavern, behind the falls there was a sizable stone and wood building at the crossroads. It was tall, with stone brick masonry framed by large timbers at the corners. In front of the building, I was surprised to see what looked to be other humans. All of the men were wearing these large, white, tunics that reached their knees, like old school nightshirts. The other women were, like me, wearing the same white dresses.

The other humans were a wide variety of ages and skin tones and shapes and sizes. But all of them generally had the same look of expectation and confusion on their features.

At the stone steps of the building, there were groups of elves and dwarves overseeing our arrival. They were all dressed a little differently from one another. A group of elves and dwarves in what looked to be fancy clothes with jewelry. A group of elves in thick leathers and bows strung over their backs. A group of dwarves with blackened faces and wearing heavy leather aprons. A group of elves in robes and heavy leather gloves and belts with pouches. A group of dwarves in helmets with pickaxes. 

I realized these groups and others were the various jobs people did in the city. I saw Liam take his place beside some other farmers, dressed in sturdy, dirt-stained clothes and carrying various farm implements.

An elf and a dwarf stepped forward from the rest, their attention focused on us.

“Hello,” called out the elf, a tall, beautiful woman in an ornate silk dress with golden leaves and flower designs overlaid on a jade background. She wore a number of bracelets, rings and necklaces, crowned off by, well, a thin, gold crown, woven into her stark white hair. When she spoke, it was with authority, like a grandmother, but she didn’t show any sign of real age. “Welcome, our new arrivals, to the city of Whiteoak Falls. Allow me to introduce myself.” She drew herself up, “I am the mayor of the city, Fionna Macready.”

The gruff looking dwarf with white hair peeking out from under a heavy iron helm on his brow beside her cleared his throat. He was wearing thick metal armor and chainmail and had a pair of heavy axes strapped to his back. “I’m Chief Constable Gregory Petrov,” he grunted, his basso voice like a small avalanche. In spite of his size, he was intimidating.

“I know that all of you are undoubtedly confused,” said Mayor Fionna, holding out her arms to us as if she expected to scoop up all of us in her arms. “This is a strange world for you. You are not the first humans to arrive like this to our world, but you are the first we have had in hundreds of years.”

“Fuck... this tutorial is going to take forever,” groaned a large boy next to me with a thick beard growing out of his neck, “just give me a fucking sword and let me start grinding mobs, holy shit.”

“Shh...” hissed a taller man next to him.

“Of course, we want to be able to welcome all of you,” continued the mayor, ”you are guests in our world and we want to be sure that we act as gracious hosts in your stay here.” She nodded to her surrounding people. “Of course, in exchange, we would like to ask you to take up responsibilities while you stay here. It takes gold to feed so many mouths and clothe so many bodies. I and the rest of the resident Guildmasters and Guildmistresses want to make sure that you can find a trade which suits you. Work that will allow you to find your feet and provide for yourselves.”

“So is this where we get to pick a class?” whispered the neckbearded boy beside me.

“Shh...” hissed the older man again, “just shut up and listen.”

“We have representatives from the hunters, the blacksmiths, the miners, the farmers, the alchemists, the carpenters, the stonewrights, the tailors and of course, the city guard.”

The Chief Constable grunted in acknowledgement.

“We want all of you to find work that is rewarding, fulfilling and contributes to the City of Whiteoak Falls,” continued the Mayor. “Of course we are all willing to answer any questions you might have regarding these professions.”

There was a silence which immediately turned into a mass of everyone trying to talk over one another. There were maybe fifty of us or so. It was a mass of noise and chaos where I could only make out snippets.

“Where is the inventory screen?”

“What are my stats?”

“How do I become a wizard?”

“This game sucks!”

The older man who had shushed the neckbeard, clapped his hands loudly and shouted over them. “Hey hey hey hey!” He called over everyone. “Settle down!”

He was tall, muscular, with short salt and pepper hair and a tight beard around his jaw. He was older, maybe my dad’s age, with tanned skin and visible muscled arms and legs. He had brown eyes that seemed to blaze as he spoke aloud. As soon as everyone fell silent, he turned and addressed the mayor.

“Lady Mayor,” he said, his voice rough, yet confident, “I apologize for my kin. This is a strange world for them and they are not yet accustomed to how things work here. Please allow me to help make things a little more clear to them.”

The mayor blinked in surprise, but seemed to settle into relief. “Ah, of course, thank you, sir...?”

“Leon,” he said, bowing at the waist.

“Very well. I thank you, Sir Leon,” said the Mayor.

He smiled at her and turned back to the rest of us. “Okay everyone, get circled up. Try to give everyone a spot so we can all see each other and talk.”

We all shifted around, save for the neckbearded boy who stood still and crossed his arms in the center of the ring. His eyes were glued on Leon.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he barked, “who the fuck died and made you in charge, grandpa?!” He stabbed an accusing finger at Leon.

Leon sighed in return, rolling his eyes at the boy. “Okay... what’s your name, kid?”

The boy crossed his arms, “Nightedge...”

Leon chuckled. I couldn’t help but snort. A few other people expressed their amusement but nobody seemed impressed.

While the name “Nightedge” may have sounded impressive as a username floating over your head, it was difficult to see this visibly out-of-shape twenty-something being able to carry a name like “Nightedge” as it slid out of his mouth.

“Nightedge” blushed visibly at the laughter but didn’t step down. If anything, he doubled-down as he took another step forward towards Leon. “Man, fuck you, beaner! I don’t gotta take shit from you! I’ll kick your wrinkly ass back to Mexico!!”

Leon sighed, stepping closer. “Kid, come on. Use your head.” he said, looming over him, “do you really want to keep embarrassing yourself like this? Take the ‘L’ and move on, dude…”

“Nightedge” scoffed. “We’re all level one, old man. Same stats.  Way I see it, I have a pretty good shot at taking you out.” He took a step forward, placing them essentially toe-to-toe.

Leon took a deep breath and let it out. “Okay, kid... how about this: You clearly want to prove something. Fine. I’ll give you three shots at me. I won’t even hit back. Three strikes and you’re out. You get a real hit on me, you get to be the ‘leader’, whatever the fuck that means to you. How about that?”

“Nightedge” answered by aiming a kick in-between Leon’s legs.

Leon didn’t seem surprised. He took a step back, caught the boy’s leg by the heel as it reached its apex and pulled it even farther upward. “Nightedge” lost his balance and toppled over onto his back with a loud thump.

Everyone laughed, myself included. Despite the fear and confusion, even the NPCs seemed taken aback by how badly “Nightedge” had fared. It didn’t feel anything like a real fight, but rather like a child making a fool of himself. Even if he looked older than me, the angry boy certainly didn’t act like it.

“Nightedge” made an angry sound of pain, but managed to get himself upright, his face even redder with fury. He lunged forward as if to tackle Leon, arms outstretched and shoulders lowered. Leon, in response, stepped back again and slapped a hand down on the boy’s head and pushed him downward, back towards the ground.

Again, he lost balance and fell on the floor. He faceplanted with an audible grunt of pain into the cobblestone at our feet. There was a collective groan of sympathy as he landed harder this time. He came back to his feet more unsteadily and with blood streaming from his nose. 

At this point, he went completely feral. Blood oozing all over his face, he gave a roar of fury and jumped on Leon like a pouncing, wild animal, his fingers curled like claws.

“Sorry kid, that’s three. And you’re out.”

Leon drew back and caught him with a heavy kick to his stomach midair, driving him to the ground. “Nightedge” retched, holding his stomach and moaning in pain. He looked around, helplessly. He screwed up his face. “Man, fuck this game...”

He waved a hand in front of him and...

Disappeared. Leaving nothing behind. Apparently he had quit the game.

I found it strange that none of the NPCs had commented on that. While they watched with a mixture of horror and fascination during the course of the fight, the moment a human literally disappeared in front of their eyes like magic, it didn’t seem to phase them. They simply turned away from him and stared at Leon instead.

Leon sighed, shaking his head as he adjusted his stance away from fighting. The others around him looked visibly terrified and I was included with that terror. There was no denying he was strong and knew how to handle himself. 

“I apologize for that, good people of Whiteoak Falls!” called out Leon, turning back over his shoulder. “While we, as humanity, truly do strive to rise above our poor reputation, there will always be some who cannot accept the new ways and would have us return to war and struggle.” He bowed his head, and the mayor and police chief nervously returned the bow. Leon turned back to us, shaking his head.

“Okay folks...” he said, breathing heavily, “first and foremost, I really didn’t enjoy that. I really don’t want to make your first impression of me to be a bully or thug. We’re on thin ice as it is. I think you all saw that he wasn’t about to take no for an answer, but for fuck’s sake, he was just a dumb kid. Scared. And I think we’re all a little scared. But I think that kid did make a point on how there’s some misunderstanding about how this game works. And I want to help fix that.”

He scanned the audience. “Are any of you familiar with old-school role playing? Like…twenty-sided dice and plastic figurines? Or even dedicated roleplaying servers from old MMOs?” 

A dozen or so people nodded, but most looked at him blankly. Personally, I had only ever heard stories of things like that. Ancient, dark-age gaming. Where computers were so terrible that it was just easier for everyone to play with dice and game boards and use their imagination. Every game I had ever played was either with the REMbox or on my phone.

“Well, let’s try this. Do you know what RPG stands for?” continued Leon, still in the tone of a practiced lecturer, “Role-Playing Game. Y’all are playing a role here. The setup is that you are all strangers that have been dropped into a strange world. This isn’t like the usual, ‘pick a class and start grinding mobs while the game literally holds your hand’ kind of experience. This is old school role-play. You are picking a job and learning about the world around you and becoming part of a community through experience.”

I looked around me at the NPCs as they watched him speak. None of them seemed upset that Leon was overtly saying that they were in a game, by the looks of it. Or maybe they didn’t understand?

A young college-aged man with a sparse and scruffy beard raised his hand. “So... wait, this game is just ‘Medieval Job Simulator 2035?’ Dude, I work in a warehouse all day, I play these games to get away from this shit.”

“Seriously? You kids have never played The Sims, or Harvest Moon or Stardew Valley? Or even Minecraft?” said Leon, a little exasperated. The older members chuckled, nodding in approval. The younger ones frowned a little and shook their heads. Personally, while I had heard of these games (at least by name), I certainly hadn’t played any of them. You might as well have asked me to fire up a game of Pong or Super Mario or Halo or something.

“Okay, okay,” sighed Leon, “Well… back in the day, we had games that weren’t just about grinding up monsters for gold and gear. It was about gradually building something. In the real world, we have dead-end jobs that aren’t ever going to give us a single break. I’ve been around for a while and I can assure you, the idea of getting a fresh start is a damn appealing one…”

He stretched out his arms. “Here in this world, you don’t need to work a job because it’s the only one that you could find. You get to do something you actually enjoy. You get to learn a new skill or explore a new hobby. I mean, I spend my job dealing with the worst kinds of people humanity has to offer, but here, I have the chance to try something new.” He gestured to the surrounding NPCs, “Every single one of these people will be happy to take you in and teach you something new. You wanna learn how to shoot arrows? Those elves over there…”

I followed Leon’s gesture and saw a collection of elves in leather armor and with bows strung onto their backs, nodded, albeit a little uncertainly. 

“Can teach you. You wanna be a goddamn wizard? There’s the alchemists… they do magic,” he pointed to a collection of elves and dwarves in elaborate robes who blinked in alarm as they were pointed out. “The point is, that none of them care about what’s on your resume, how old you are and whether you have past experience. They’re giving you a chance to do something different.”

The humans around us seemed unconvinced, exchanging glances and murmuring amongst themselves. Next to me, I heard a kid a little younger than me groan as he waved his hand and disappeared with a “Fuck that.” A few others followed suit.

Again, none of the NPCs seemed to mind the humans visibly popping out of existence in front of them. That had to be something that was programmed in. They were terrified of us but they were okay with us suddenly disappearing before their eyes? That wasn’t normal or realistic in the slightest.

“I get it,” said Leon, nodding his head, “I understand that this isn’t what you were expecting. But y’all bought the game, maybe it’s worth getting a feel for it? This is the opportunity to do something new. Learn something new.”

“What about stats?” insisted another man, maybe around Leon’s age, “where is my stat screen!?”

“Do you seriously need to have a bunch of numbers to tell you that you’re having fun?!” sighed Leon, exasperated.

From the uncomfortable silence (and another log-out) the answer clearly was “yes”.

I raised my hand. Leon looked to me, as everyone else did. “Yes, little lady?”

I smiled faintly. “I...” I swallowed nervously, “I have a friend who was a beta tester for RoEM. She said that while you don’t get to see a stat screen… but there are numbers and you do get stronger and better with your skills over time. Through doing work like lifting things or crafting things. Your body gets better at doing things the more you do them.”

Leon nodded, snapping his fingers in excitement as he pointed me out. “Exactly. That was what we figured out in the beta. Your skills and stats or whatever, even if they’re invisible, still grow with regular use. You don’t just get better because you’ve practiced the skill… your body gets better as well. You get stronger if you work at it.”

An older woman pointed a finger at Leon. “Wait... you were a beta tester?”

“Yeah…” He nodded, albeit a little hesitantly. “Look, folks... I’m not trying to tell you how to play the game. And from what I’ve seen thus far… things have changed a little since I played. But right now if you traipse off into the wilderness looking for quests and mobs, you’re going to get killed. It’s like... Okay, uh, Miss... what was your name?” Leon turned back to me.

“Z-Zoey,” I squeaked.

“Okay, Miss Zoey, what was the last MMO you played?”

“Um... Runes of Rath?” I said, a little unsure of where Leon was going with this.

“Okay, and what class did you play?” 

“Paladin,” I said, desperately wishing people would stop staring at me. “T-tank.”

“Okay, in RoR, Zoey’s paladin, as far as she had experienced in the game, just sort of popped into being when she created her character. No background, no backstory, just popped out of nowhere strong enough to tangle with hordes of goblins,” continued Leon, “but that’s not how things work in our world. Nor in this one. You’re not born with superpowers. If you want to be a sword-wielding badass, you have to work at it. You’ve got to learn how to handle a sword and practice. You have to learn tactics. You need training. You have to save up and get proper equipment and that means getting a job. 

If you want to be a wizard in our world, you have to learn about computers and technology and science or whatever. The magic in this world is a science unto itself. The beginning of this game is for you to really get immersed in this world and get comfortable with the skills you need to become a badass. You get to discover the person you want to become in this world. And people around you will support you in that journey if you accept their help.”

He chewed his lip for a moment, nodding. “I know you’re all missing your action bars and cooldowns and your quest markers and mini maps. But, let me tell you from experience, that you can get used to this. You learn to appreciate what you have here. If you’re smart, if you keep your minds open, you can become a hero, you just need to give it time. It’s worth the work.”

Everyone stared as Leon fell silent. There was some glancing around, as clearly the other players were still unsure of themselves. But, to their credit, nobody else logged out.

“Okay, so, let’s start with this,” said Leon, clapping his hands together. “Zoey. How were you wanting to play in this game? What kind of character did you want to be?”

I winced again as Leon singled me out. Besides being a girl? “I... uh... I wouldn’t mind being a paladin again,” I said sheepishly

“Okay, so... paladins require armor and weapons and service to the gods,” said Leon, encouragingly, “armor and weapons come from the forge. You work with the blacksmith, and they’ll get you what you need. You’ll get the strength to carry the weapons and armor as well from swinging those hammers to the anvil. As for faith, there are monasteries out there which are dedicated to the gods. The woods have a temple to the god of the hunt. The roads have small shrines to the god of travel. There’s plenty of gods in RoEM so pick out one that suits you. So if you really want to be a holy warrior… a paladin… there’s a path forward for you.”

Leon pointed to the older woman who had been surprised by Leon being a beta tester. “How about you?”

“Uh... I played WoW back in the day as a mage...DPS.”

“Okay, the alchemist guild goes over the basics of magic and potion making. Magic is… kind of complex, but there’s a lot you can do with it. If you get good enough at it, you can set out for the arcane universities and do the really big stuff,” he said, indicating her. “There are options for everyone here. It’s just about starting small. It’s a big game, don’t expect to be able to do everything at once. Go talk to the NPCs around you and see what fits.”

The crowd of humans seemed to murmur to themselves, more encouraged. Some spread out to talk to the guildmasters and mistresses. Others seemed to want to know more from Leon from his beta test experiences.

And some went to me, as apparently even knowing a beta tester made me the next best thing to an expert.

I tried to answer the questions as best as I could, but I could tell that I really couldn’t answer their questions satisfactorily. But people were still nice. They called me Zoey, which still felt incredible.

Finally, people began to spread out, leaving me alone and forcing me to make a choice.

Working as a blacksmith was probably the right idea. Even if I changed my mind on being a paladin, it wouldn’t be a terrible idea to be able to make weapons and armor. Obviously I could make money that way, no matter where I went. But I was a little worried about how hard it was going to be. I wasn’t particularly strong in the real world.

Lacking any other ideas, I and a few others approached the blacksmiths.

They were all dwarves, wearing heavy leather aprons and with tongs and hammers and other tools slotted into their belts and apron pockets. Their eyes were a little wary at our approach, and I noticed a few of them who outright had expressions of disgust on their faces.

One of the dwarves cleared his throat and spoke up as he stepped forward. “Okay then,” he grumbled, “listen up because I’m only going to say this once.”

He was big, for a dwarf, easily half a head taller than the others. His head was bald and his beard bore a sizable mustache under his nose to complement it, all of it iron-gray. His brow had a pair of soot-caked goggles perched upon them and his apron had some kind of badges or pins attached to it that glimmered despite the soot which covered the rest of the apron.

“My name is Alexander. I’m the forgemaster here in Whiteoak Falls,” he grunted. “I know you humans love your swords and spears and armor, but let me make some things clear. This is a simple town. We smith plowshares, horseshoes and other tools. We don’t have much need for swords here. Most of the time, you aren’t making anything more dangerous than a knife.”

He cleared his throat over the sound of disappointment of the players. “And another thing, I see a lot of twig-arms among you. Until you can show me that you can manage a whole day of forging, you’re going to be doing the grunt work. You’re stoking fires, you're running the bellows and you’re hauling the coal and the metal. If you wanna do more, then I’m gonna need to see what you humans are really made of! Are you ready?”

He hacked out a booming laugh alongside the other dwarves. A few people looked extremely disappointed by this and actually left. I was considering it myself, but, honestly, I didn’t want to let Leon down. I didn’t want to disappoint Anika or Beth or Gavin. I wanted to take this seriously.

I took a deep breath and stepped up. Leon had believed in me and with the promise of a brand new world, I was positively electrified with excitement. “I’m ready!” I said, as confidently as I could.

The dwarves stopped laughing for a moment as they turned to look at me. And then started laughing harder.

Except for Alexander. He held up a hand and they fell silent again. “Do you find something funny, boys?” the forgemaster asked seriously as he turned back to face them.

“Um... that human, boss...” scoffed a dwarf behind him, “she’s... look at her, she’s a girl!”

It was true. As I looked around, I was very much the only girl, human or dwarf present. I felt extremely small and foolish. Was this how girls felt all the time? Men looming over them, making them feel small?

“And?” asked Alexander clearly unamused, “Ivan, let me ask you a question, do you know who the last forgemaster was?”

The dwarf, Ivan, shook his head.

“It was Alanna Mason. The toughest damn woman I ever knew. She could have broken you in half as soon as look at you. She was the one who taught me everything I knew about forging. She was the one who made the forge what it is today. If you have a problem with a woman being a smith you can work elsewhere and besides…” he paused for a significant moment, leaning forward, “I think we know what a certain someone else would do to you if she heard you talking like that. ”

Ivan turned pale and shook his head rapidly.

Alexander turned back to face the rest of us as if the conversation hadn't happened. All through it, he didn’t raise his voice. He just said his piece, and the words burned his will into the silence.

“S-sorry,” mumbled the dwarf, clearly embarrassed.

“It wasn’t me that you spoke poorly of, Ivan,” said Alexander, not turning around. “Not me that you owe an apology to.”

“S-sorry, miss...” he said, now bowing towards me as he folded at the waist to stare at the ground.

I waved it off, blushing. “It’s fine, really.”

“Okay then,” said Alexander , turning towards the depths of the cave. “Follow me you lot. We’ll give you the layout.”

The humans, myself included, gawked in awe as we stepped past the roaring falls, filling the air with a cold mist. Overhead, the waterwheel creaking in its massive frame filling the depths of the cave with its sound

“The falls run the bellows,” roared Alexander over the noise of the water. “Keeps the fires hot enough to move the metal and the auto-hammers moving. But don’t think that it lets you off easy, because we have more forges than bellows and only two auto-hammers. You stick-arms are going to bulk up real quickly here, believe you, me.”

He motioned for us to follow and we traveled deeper into the cave.

It was incredible. The cave was vast and full of what looked to be houses and storefronts carved into the rock. It was a full four levels high, with walkways and stairs carved in. All over the cave there were lampposts illuminating the cave city with flickering pale light. 

“This is the cave district,” said Alexander his voice carrying into the chorus of sounds echoing off the walls around us, “in the old days, this was dwarf country and many of its residents are still dwarves.”

He turned specifically to his fellow smiths. “But the old ways are done. Smiths come from all kinds of people and all walks of life. This district and this city is open to all people. Dwarf, Elf, Human, Gnome, Orc, Goblin, Scalefolk, Fairy... I don’t care. If they can swing a hammer and do their work, they’re welcome in my forge.” He made it clear that this was a statement of fact and not a discussion.

He pushed further into the cave. As he did so, the dwarves deeper in were all wearing helmets and toting pickaxes. They were pushing massive fleets of carts on tracks, clearly filled with the ores they had mined.

Not all of the dwarves were bearded, I noticed. Some of them were clean-faced. Women maybe? Truthfully, underneath all the grime and dirt of their work and heavy clothes, it was difficult to tell precisely.

“The miners bring us the bounty of the earth to make our craft. We, in turn, provide them the best possible tools to dig deeper and faster,” continued Alexander, snapping me back to attention. “We are to treat them with respect. They are our fellow craftsmen and we are siblings in service.” He bowed to them and gestured to the rest of us to follow suit.

The miners passing by inclined their heads to us as well before continuing on their way, pickaxes cast over their shoulders and covered lanterns on poles, pushing carts down tracks deeper into the caves..

Alexander drew us to the left, down a tunnel and I could already feel the heat filling the air as we moved deeper. As we traveled down the wide tunnel, I could hear the chorus of hammers hitting metal. And it only got hotter and louder as we got closer. Finally, when it felt like we were all stepping into an oven, we saw it. All around us, a chorus of clangs, like a million sledgehammers striking a million bells, filled the air with a deafening noise. I gaped in awe of the forgeworks.

Steel piping spread along the floor like a spiderweb, all of it feeding into the forges as they blasted their heat. All of the pipes were being fed by a massive bellows the size of a city bus, which moved up and down like a seesaw as the air was drawn in and pushed through the pipes. It appeared to be powered by a spinning wheel outside the window, turned by the gears and axels of the waterfall. The forges themselves glowed like a sea of suns blazing in all directions in the otherwise dark expanse. By the wall, grinding wheels blurred at speed and sprayed showers of sparks as the tools were sheared into shape. The dwarves all were busy at work, pounding the anvils, heating their metal, grinding and quenching their steel in the water barrels. All moving in their perfect, practiced harmonies.

As impressive as it was, it was still stifling, loud and, above all, hot. I could feel the sweat seeping out of me just after standing there for a few minutes.

“If any of you are going to pass out,” boomed Alexander, “the windows there overlook the falls. Stick your heads out there if you need to cool off.”

I looked and saw that the rushing waters of the falls were indeed visible outside the carved windows. The hammers were too loud to follow the roar of the falls.

“So,” shouted Alexander, clapping his hands, “as much as I’d like to get you all to work, none of you are particularly dressed for it. So, we’re going to dig through the supplies and get you some work clothes. This way.” He gestured deeper into the forge. “Watch those pipes until you get some boots! I don’t want any of you searing your feet off!”

The other humans followed his directions, looking nervous and tiptoeing around the pipes on the floor. I moved to follow, only for Alexander to hold up a hand to block me. “Uh... miss...?”

“Zoey,” I provided, pushing some sweat off my forehead.

“Miss Zoey... I know for a fact that we don’t have anything in back that’s going to fit you. I’m going to send one of my smiths to take you out and get you fitted for proper attire.”

“Oh...” I said, unsure of how to respond.

“MARIANNE!” barked Alexander, cupping his hands to his mouth.

A thickly built, tall figure suddenly shot up from their anvil. They pushed through the forge, and as the glowing light of a nearby forge properly struck them, I could make out their appearance

She was a woman. A few inches taller than me with muscular and densely freckled skin. She had brown hair which was tied back behind her head. She was wearing a sort of blouse with the leather apron set over it. As she drew close, I realized that she was an elf, as her prominent ears were visible. Her gray, catlike eyes briefly glanced at me with a moment of mistrust before they locked on Alexander.

“Yes, forgemaster?” she said, her voice low and barely audible over the noise.

“Take Zoey here to the tailor and the tanner. Get her some proper attire like yours,” Alexander continued, as he reached into his pocket and counted out a handful of shining gold coins.

Again, Marianne gave me a judging look and turned back to Alexander. “Yes, forgemaster.” she repeated in the same tone. She took the bag of gold in one hand, took my wrist in the other and led me back out of the forge.

As we left the area and I wasn’t being boiled alive and being subjected to a chorus of anvils, I tried to get a better read on Marianne.

“Uh...” I said, trying to fill the silence as she dragged me forward. “Hi.”

She didn’t answer but continued to pull me forward.

“I’m... Zoey...” I said, trying to be polite. as I tried to keep up with her pace.

“So I heard,” said Marianne, her features cold. 

“I’m... sorry?” I hazarded. She seemed upset and I needed to know how to fix it. I could never stand the idea of disappointing people, even if she was a perfect stranger. Or even just a computer program.

She slowed her pace and let my hand go. She continued forward and I tried to keep in step with her. “I have no problem with you, in particular, human,” she said, her posture relaxing slightly, “I just have work to do and I’m not particularly pleased with having to babysit you just because we both happen to be female. I’m a blacksmith, not your mother.”

“I... didn’t mean to be a bother,” I said, shrinking in shame.

“This place isn’t fun and games,” Marianne continued, “it’s hard and grueling work. And the men here aren’t going to give you any breaks. They certainly don’t give me any.”

I nodded, watching her carefully. She’d clearly been here for a long time given how strong she looked and how worn her clothes were.

We stepped into the sunlight beyond the cave. It cast its bright rays upon us, illuminating Marianne’s face.

“But it’s still worth it, to you, right? Or you wouldn’t be here.”

I blinked, surprised that those words slipped from my mouth so readily. 

Marianne looked just as shocked at what I just said. She smiled, if only a fraction. “Yeah,” she breathed, “because what they think doesn’t matter. I make things. I bend unmoving metal with my own godsdamn hands. I can make things. Things to help. Things to protect. Things to change the world.”

I nodded. That sounded incredible. “I... didn’t see many elves in there...” I wasn’t certain how to bring it up, but I hoped she wouldn’t be offended by the statement.

She waved it aside. “I mean... I’m half-elf for what it’s worth,” she said, indicating her ears. I peered closer. They didn’t quite seem as pointy as the other ones I’d seen. “Even if I take after my father, I’m still half dwarf. Most of the people our age really don’t make much of a distinction anyway. Only fools let their ancestry define them. The old ways have passed. We are what we do, not what’s in our blood.”

“Right,” I breathed, feeling some kind of resonance with the statement I couldn’t quite place.

“So... Zoey, right?” she continued, a little more warmly, “you have any skill in forging?”

I shook my head. “Not really. I think I’d like to learn though.”

She chuckled. “Sure, sure... you’re going to forge a sword and slay a dragon or something?”

I considered that. “Actually... the first thing I want to make is a shield.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Really?!”

I nodded. “To protect people. I used to be a tank and I think you need a shield to do that…”

“A… tank of what?” asked Marianne, frowning slightly. “I don’t follow.”

I winced as I realized the term wouldn’t mean anything to her. “I mean… a protector, I guess. Someone who takes the hits so others don’t have to.

“Hm...” She pressed a finger to her lips thoughtfully. “I wasn’t expecting that from a human. And you seem a bit young to have seen combat.”

Technically I’d been in plenty of fights set in fantasy worlds filled with elves and dwarves and such… but they’d always been more abstract and distant. Numbers and skill trees had no place or power here.

“I… I haven’t ever fought for real… exactly,” I said, after a moment of thought. I wasn't sure how to explain it to her in a way that would make sense.

“I would hope you never have to,” replied Marianne solemnly. “War is an ugly thing. I prefer making tools of peace above all else.”

“How does forging really work?” I asked, trying to get some context for the craft. My only experience with smithing was collecting items off dead monsters, standing in front of an anvil and waiting for a progress bar to fill up. Clearly it was going to be more complicated than that.

Marianne went on at length on the process of forging. It was interesting and the steps made sense as she explained them. Her passion was almost infectious as she would sometimes get sidetracked in the beauty and art of each step. 

I tried my hardest to pay attention and I was beginning to pick up pieces of it, but it was difficult to follow as we approached the tree district of Whiteoak Falls. I was too taken aback at what I was seeing in front of me.

We approached the bustling tree, with all its stores and houses carved and wrapped around the trunk. She led me to a basket roughly the size of the standard elevator with some window holes cut into the thatch. Marianne gave the elf inside a request for “tailor’s row.” The elf, a man dressed in an official-looking uniform with a tree insignia pinned to it, nodded as he pulled the wicker door of the basket closed and tugged on the rope three times.

The basket lurched up in a rush and zipped us up the length of the tree. I glanced out the basket window and immediately regretted it as I saw the blurring rush of foliage and the ground pulling away outside. It seemed to last an eternity before coming to a stop again just as suddenly. The basket swayed in the breeze for another eternal moment of panic, before another elf, a woman in the same uniform, marshaled the basket into place. Even so, it took a few minutes for my heart to stop racing and my stomach to stop twisting to the point that I felt it was safe for me to shift slightly forward and settle on something solid.

With shaking legs, I managed to stumble out of the basket and onto the wooden platform outside, bent over on all fours. Marianne stepped over me, clearly trying not to laugh at me, and stooped over to help me up.

“Ah yeah... it takes a little getting used to,” she said, around her suppressed giggles. 

I gratefully took her hand and stumbled unsteadily to my feet. Behind us, I saw the basket and the elf manning it drop out of sight to the bottom of the tree, trailed by a collection of ropes.

I felt sick to my stomach again. “We still have to get down that way, don’t we?” I said, feeling nauseous at the idea. 

“Unless you want to spend the rest of the day taking the stairs, then yes,” she said, not unkindly, “it’s okay Zoey. It’s your first day here and I know those baskets can scare the living daylights out of the tourists. It gets easier. Come on.”

Still leaning on her for support, I walked along the platform of the tree branch towards the main trunk. There I saw that the shops were all vibrant, painted colorfully and trimmed with leaves and flowers. Marianne led me along the wooden roads which circled the trunk until we stepped into a store.

The exterior didn’t seem to have glass, exactly, but some kind of transparent membrane of sorts to both show the clothes on dummies inside but keep the elements and presumably thieves out. She pushed in the wooden door and a bell rang above us to announce our entrance.

Inside, there were more dummies with a wide array of clothes, ranging from gaudy gowns to hardy work clothes. Bolts of fabric, both fantastic and mundane, sat on the wooden shelves inlaid in the walls. Behind the wooden counter, an older elf, visible by her deep wrinkles and snowy white hair, rose up above the counter. She peered myopically at Marianne.

“Mari! Darling!” the woman cooed, “my it’s been ages. What brings you in? Need another burn patched from the forge?”

“No, Mrs. MacDougal,” replied Marianne, “I need a new outfit for my new coworker here.” She showed me beside her.

The old woman peered over her desk at me squinting.

“Oh! So they have another elf girl working in the forge! How lovely!” she said, stepping around the counter. “Are you new here, dearie? What family are you-“

She stopped short, her voice dying into a strangled choke. She stumbled back away from me in fear. “A HUMAN!” she screamed, her voice shrill and sharp as a dagger as it bounced off the walls around us.

I flinched, unprepared for this reaction. Marianne sighed and looked at me apologetically. “Sorry,” she said, sighing, “she’s a little old-fashioned. Don’t take it personally.” 

She turned back to her, “Mrs. MacDougal!” she said slowly and deliberately, “this is Zoey! She’s new here and she needs some clothes to work at the forge! She’s not-”

“NO!” Mrs. MacDougal shouted over her, cowering behind the desk “PLEASE DON’T KILL ME! JUST TAKE THE GOLD AND GO!”

“I-“ I sputtered, stepping away from her, my hands up in the air. “I’m not going to hurt you! Or anyone!”

“HA!” said the woman hysterically, pointing at me in an accusation “A LIKELY STORY! JUST LIKE A HUMAN TO TRY TO TRICK YOU AND THEN STAB YOU IN THE BACK! JUST LIKE THE LAST TIME!”

Marianne sighed and shook her head. “There’s another store a block clockwise, let’s head there,” she mumbled, taking my arm and dragging me away.

I nodded, still feeling a sense of unease at this woman’s wild-eyed terror. Her whimperings followed us as we shut the door behind us.

We pushed our way out onto the street. The passersby eyed us curiously as they sought the source of the scream. Marianne stuck her thumb out at me, “Not a fan of humans.”

The elves and dwarves nodded at this and seemed to take it in stride as they resumed their travels. I did notice a few of their stares lingering, peering at me curiously.

“Why... why was she so scared?!” I asked, crossing my arms in front of me protectively. I felt myself breathing hard, like I’d run a marathon. “Are... were humans that bad?”

Marianne shrugged. “Look... humans showed up in our world a long time ago,” she said, wincing, “They came with strange ways and customs, as most people do. They’re quick learners and they can accomplish great things. But… hundreds of years ago, a number of them plunged the lands into chaos. Destroyed everything around them. Burned and looted and pillaged.”

“What?!” I felt sick at hearing that. Why on earth had the developers programmed that into the game?! What kind of lore or history was that?! Why were humans supposed to be the bad guys? “I’m... sorry?” I said quietly, not sure what to say beyond that.

She shook her head as she led me around the tree. “Look, it wasn’t all of them. It was some of them. Nobody is born evil. Back in the much older days, we said the same thing about orcs or goblins, being savage and evil down to the bone. Only later did we really understand that their “evil”-ness was born from us taking their homelands and displacing their people.”

She nodded to herself. “As far as I can tell, you look harmless enough. We always try to offer hospitality in this world. We have learned too many harsh lessons of war and pain through mistrust and bigotry for those who were different. We all have the same souls. We are expected to give people a chance.” She stopped in front of another storefront. “But...” her voice tinged with cold, “just know... we won’t be pushed around either. If you’re planning evil... best to leave now.”

I shook my head enthusiastically. “No!” I said, “this place is incredible! The sights, the people, this is the best game I’ve ever played!” I blinked, realizing I let that slip. Was I not supposed to point that out? Break the fourth wall? Would I get punished for "breaking character" or something?

“‘Game’?” said Marianne raising an eyebrow, “oh yes, I forgot you humans treat everything like a game. Come on, I think Gresh will be a little more understanding than Mrs. MacDougal.” She shook her head and led me forward.

Apparently my slip-up hadn't triggered any real reaction. I breathed a sigh of relief. 

We stopped at another store a few storefronts down, this one looking slightly less upscale than the previous one.

The clothing dummies within were more bundles of sticks than real dummies. The clothes that hung off them looked slightly bulkier and sturdier, with heavy, almost excessive stitching. There were the same bolts of fabric stacked around the store, but there was definitely less focus on the more extravagant silks and more on the sturdy, burlap-like cloth.

Of particular and alarming notice was that the sound for the doorbell above us was more of a heavy, resonant chime. I looked for the source of the sound and found an honest-to-goodness steel helmet acting as a doorbell.

Behind the counter there were carved wood plaques ranging from dark oak to a sort of smooth, white wood hung up on the wall. It was engraved or carved in some kind of scrimshaw-like design of twisting knots and whorls.

“One moment! I am coming!” came a loud bellow from the other end of the store, and a massive man, shirtless and wearing sturdy trousers of burlap came stomping out. What immediately stood out was his skin. It was a grayish, green hue that didn’t really look healthy. He had long, black hair that was styled into a singular braid and woven around what looked to be teeth and claws of some kinds of creatures. He bore a number of tattoos on his arms and chest that matched the same scrimshaw-like designs found on the plaques behind the counter. His eyes were a pale green and looked down his noticeably upraised nose. His lips curled into a smile, showing some extremely sharp teeth.

“Marianne!” boomed the man, his eyes lighting up in glee as he charged around the counter and scooped her up in a massive embrace that looked like it could crack bones. “It has been too long!”

“Hey,” said Marianne, visibly wincing, “sorry... work has been kind of busy...”

He set her back down on the floor. “Of course, of course... so, what brings you here?”

Marianne nodded her head in my direction. “We have a new recruit. Gotta get her some suitable clothes.”

Mister Gresh looked at me, his eyes lit up. “Ah ha!” he said, his grin widening, “glorious! So the rumors are true and the humans have returned to our lands! How exciting!” He offered a hand that easily engulfed mine, “I am Gresh, Third born of Thokk, Clan of the Boarwolf.”

I took his hand and was surprised to find that he was very delicate in his handshake. “Zoey,” I said, not quite sure if I needed to add on any flourishes.

“Well then,” said Gresh, putting his massive hands on my shoulders, “let’s get you properly fitted, Lady Zoey.”

Gresh directed me to an alcove of mirrors. It never quite stopped being a delightful surprise to see Zoey looking back at me in the mirror instead of the old me. This was the first proper glimpse I’d been given of myself and... I looked incredible. I was reasonably certain that whatever they had taken for digitization, they had done some algorithmic magic to polish it up. There was no way I looked this pretty with just makeup on.

I gave a quick spin in the mirror, looking at myself from all angles and feeling the dress spin with me.

“What, you don’t have mirrors in the human world?” asked Marianne, eyebrow raised.

“Uh...” I felt my cheeks tingle slightly as I tried not to meet her eyes, “sorry.”

Marianne shook her head. “Not trying to squash that smile of yours,” she said with an apologetic smile. “It’s cute.”

I flushed even deeper and my reflection turned a vibrant pink that could have been seen from outer space.

“Alright,” said Gresh, pulling out a length of rope, “let’s see what we’re working with here.” He looped it around my waist and pulled it snug.

“Um...” I said, watching his work reflected in the mirror, “Mister Gresh... are you an orc?”

He nodded. “Heard of us, have you? Not surprised, given our race has a long history in battle with yours. Never much trusted us… even from the beginning.”

I winced again, remembering Mrs. MacDougal. “S-sorry...”

He chuckled, moving the rope to take a measure of my height. “Please... it’s history. And you look a mite too young to have fought in those wars anyway. We’re not slaves to our blood, we shape our own path...” 

I nodded. “I understand. I just don’t want everyone to be scared of me... like Mrs. MacDougal.”

Gresh laughed. “Ah! Was that what the old woman was screaming about?!” he said, between guffaws, “I could hear that wailing all the way over here! Thought one of the squirrelrat mating seasons had started early! Imagine, scared of a tiny thing like you!” He shook his head. “Pay it no mind, child. That woman called me a baby-eater the moment I set up shop and hasn’t let up since.” He looked up and eyed Marianne steadily. “Honestly I don’t know why you went to her shop at all.”

Marianne sighed. “I didn’t want to get dragged into the past, Gresh,” she said, not quite meeting his eyes.

Gresh’s smile grew a little brittle. “The Marianne I know is brave beyond peer. She surges into danger without a second thought. I’ve seen that Marianne crack her anvil in half under her hammer blows. I don’t know why she would fear facing a former lover.”

Marianne grew vibrantly red and looked at the floor. “I...” she sputtered. 

My jaw dropped at this reveal. Gresh and Marianne had been together?!

Gresh chuckled again, leaning down to check the length of my legs. “Goodness, Marianne,” he said, chuckling, “you know I hold no ill will.” His expression tightened. “Do you?”

She shook her head, meeting his eyes again. “No. I told you I didn’t. I meant it. We’re just not right for one another. We want different things.”

He nodded. “Yes. But that does not mean we must remain strangers.” He looped the rope around my breasts and I squeaked in surprise at the image of them bunched up and accentuating my cleavage. “I would still have you as a customer and a friend.”

Marianne sighed, shaking her head. “I know, I know... I’m still... healing, I guess.”

“Of course,” he said, releasing my chest, “and I will give you all the time you need for it.” He looked at me. “Apologies, Miss Zoey. I did not mean to subject you to our past so brazenly.”

I shook my head, uncertain of how to reply or respond. “No no… it’s fine.”

Gresh circled around the counter. “I think I should have something suitable for your work in a few hours, if you care to wait.”

Marianne shook her head. “We still need to get her an apron, boots and gloves from the tanners. We can circle back after that to pick up the clothes.”

He nodded, but still seemed to be considering something. “She’s about your size, Marianne...” he said, eying me.

Marianne nodded in agreement, unsure. “Yes?”

“I still have some pieces in the back I fitted for you,” said Gresh, smiling faintly. “You can’t expect this poor girl to keep wearing this human sheet like this! It’s undignified!” He indicated my dress.

I looked down at it. It was a little conspicuous and not particularly warm.

Marianne sighed. “Fair...”

“I’ll get started on the work clothes,” said Gresh, pulling out some fabric off a bolt. “Take Zoey in the back and let her pick something.”

She nodded. “Okay, how much do I owe you?”

He shook his head. “Please, Marianne. Your money’s no good to me.”

Marianne frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s Alexander’s money, if it comes down to it.”

Gresh grinned, taking a pair of scissors and beginning to shear off fabric. “After you get that girl something to wear, take her to lunch with the money. Somewhere nice. There’s the Acorn Pub near the tannery district.”

Marianne seemed to weigh the idea. She snorted. “Alexander would be furious.”

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” said Gresh, his eyes twinkling.

Marianne looked at me. “What do you think?” 

I nodded, as game or not, I was actually feeling hungry. I had no idea how, but I wasn’t about to deny my stomach growling even if it was only a dream.

Marianne nodded. “Okay, okay... “Come on, Zoey.” 

“T-thank you!” I said, looking back over my shoulder to Gresh. He grinned, giving me another nod as he got back to his work.

Marianne led us through a sort of bead curtain into the work room. It was cluttered with more stick-dummies, all bare. Bolts and scraps of fabric were strewn all over the room, with a sizable pile on the table. 

The one place that looked pristine was a back wall of beautiful dresses hanging from a shelf inlaid into the wooden wall.

Marianne sighed at them. “He still hasn’t changed...” she murmured, feeling the fabric between her fingers. She looked at me, “Does anything look good?”

I was in shock. I was actually shopping. Me and another girl were actually shopping for dresses. I was going to get a dress.

I scanned the rack, looking at the colors and the styles. The fabrics were the same sort of smooth, leafy, velvet, just woven tightly together into a sort of scale-like design. They ranged from all sorts of colors to a dark black to a vibrant pink. I found my eyes were drawn to the dark green, and I pulled it off the rack to get a better look at it.

It was beautiful. It looked like it was made of living emeralds, shining and glossy with all kinds of sewn-in knot-like designs of different-colored threads. The hem was reasonably long, coming down to mid-knee and the sleeves sort of poked out of the shoulder-pad like protrusions. The chest had a crisscross design over the chest. It looked perfect and I was a little nervous about whether I would look good in it.

Marianne nodded in approval. “Try it on,” she said, smiling at it.

I looked at her, and back to the dress, uncertain how to tell her. “Uh… could you…?” I asked, gesturing with a finger

She sighed and turned her back. Computer program or not... game avatar or not, I wasn't particularly keen on being seen changing.

I shook off the old white dress and took a brief glance at my body in a nearby mirror.

I... I was at a loss for words. I was tallish, maybe a little muscular, but I saw a girl in her underwear. And that girl was me. There was a thrill which surged through me. It was... pride? I felt proud of my body. I felt... powerful. I felt... attractive.

I pulled the green dress over me and it fit perfectly. It contoured to my shape and it actually made me look even more attractive than when I was in my skivvies. The dress accentuated my feminine shape even more and I couldn’t help but spin around again, trying to drink the sight in from all angles.

“You aren’t going to be wearing that in the forge,” said Marianne, looking back over her shoulder. “That thing will go up like kindling.”

I nodded, half listening. “It’s beautiful”

She smiled, putting a hand on her hip. “You do wear it well.”

I would have continued to gawk at myself in the mirror for the rest of the day if it hadn’t been for my stomach gurgling like a sick whale. Marianne laughed. “Come on, let’s get something to eat.”

I nodded, blushing sheepishly. We went back out into the shopping floor. Gresh was still hard at work, pulling together some heavy-duty pants. He broke into a wide smile, putting his hands to his mouth. “Oh... Zoey, you look radiant!”

I blushed deeper and, completely on autopilot, I actually took the dress and curtseyed to him. Holy crap this girl stuff was intoxicating!

Gresh bowed at the waist. “I’ll be ready for you ladies in a few hours. Go out there and treat yourselves, yeah?”

Marianne nodded, smiling faintly. She pushed her way out of the store, but stopped at the door. “T-thanks Gresh,” she said, not turning around. “I’m… sorry about everything.” Her voice was more quiet and fragile than I had heard it before.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Mari,” Gresh said, shaking his head. “Regardless of how things ended, I would still wish to be your friend.”

Marianne swallowed as she stepped outside without answering. I waved at him as I followed her, and saw Gresh do the same, his eyes following us as we left. As we stepped out into the fresher air and sunlight slipping through the leaves above us,, Marianne moved mechanically, staring into the distance blankly. Save for a certain set of her jaw, her face was completely empty of emotion. Or perhaps so overwhelmed with it that she couldn’t make room for any of them in particular.

I felt… intensely uncomfortable at that moment. Like I was watching something that I really had no place in. In so many other games, I was expected to be the center of the universe. I was supposed to be its savior and hero. But no spell or ability could fix what was broken between them. I didn’t understand what had happened and what I had to do.

All I could do was reach out for her hand. She took it, wordlessly, the pressure of her shaking grip being the only thing she could express to me.

This world… the people in it… they were supposed to be Non-Player Characters… NPCs.

But honestly, Marianne and Gresh had been so full of character and life that I felt flat and empty by comparison. What kind of story did I have to tell here? How did I fit in the Realms of Eternal Magic?

For the moment, my place was to hold Marianne’s hand as she led me forward, offering what little comfort I could. And hoping that it was enough.