“Nu-uh.” December shook her head, flinging her dreadlocks everywhere. “Mom’s a real biter. She’s not letting you go anytime soon. Not till you’ve burned the house down and threatened me at gunpoint.”
“That could be arranged.”
“I’m not playing the part.” She waved a finger at me.
“Oh bricks.” I finally said, becoming resigned to my fate. “What’s the system like here?”
“Okay, here we go.” She moved to the bed to sit beside me. “There’s three levels of education. The first five years are a joke, more or less, you learn how to take naps and that you should color in the lines. Next five you actually learn to color in the lines, and there’s math and boyfriends and stuff. That’s Mid-Ed. It sucks. Finally, there’s Up-Ed, the final five years. Starts when you’re fifteen. I’ll be joining next semester. I don’t have no pro tips from the inside there, but I do know all about the Echelon.”
“Echelon?” I echoed her last word.
“It’s a big virtual game thing. You literally get physically placed in a videogame. So rad.” She shook her head enviously. “We spend all five years of Mid-Ed just gearing up. Drills and the whole lot. We don’t get to step a foot inside the arena until we age out, though.” She paused. “You’re what, seventeen?”
“Yeah.” I said, worried about the implications.
“Still got like three years to go. Plenty of fun.” She leaned back with a sigh. “You didn’t even have all the suspense. You won’t fully appreciate the privilege.”
“I think I’ll skip.”
“WHAT?” She burst out. “First off, you can’t. Second off, why?”
“Can’t?”
“Mandatory. It’s a law. Big deal. Nobody gets out. Not the emos. Not the fat kids. Not the nerds. Not even the principal’s daughter.”
“Are there medical passes?”
“Rarely.” She looked me in the eyes. “Practically nobody applies. Twofold. One, nobody wants to leave the games. And two,” she paused dramatically, “passes are like eclipses. One every ten years or so.”
“I’m fairly certain eclipses don’t-”
She cut me off. “Whatever. Point is, you’re playing, and you’re gonna love it.”
“Whatever.” I shot straight back at her. “I’ve got my ways.”
She just shook her head, something like disappointment leaching up into her eyes. “Why though? Man, you have no idea how long I’ve waited. And I still can’t. And you’re just looking at this like it’s some sort of civic duty you’ve got to evade.” She blinked once. “I had pictured this. Telling you about the games. Getting you riled up. Watching you play. Cheering on my big bro.” She gave me a look. “You’re not gonna give it a shot even, are you?”
“Nu-uh.” December shook her head, flinging her dreadlocks everywhere. “Mom’s a real biter. She’s not letting you go anytime soon. Not till you’ve burned the house down and threatened me at gunpoint.”
“That could be arranged.”
“I’m not playing the part.” She waved a finger at me.
“Oh bricks.” I finally said, becoming resigned to my fate. “What’s the system like here?”
“Okay, here we go.” She moved to the bed to sit beside me. “There’s three levels of education. The first five years are a joke, more or less, you learn how to take naps and that you should color in the lines. Next five you actually learn to color in the lines, and there’s math and boyfriends and stuff. That’s Mid-Ed. It sucks. Finally, there’s Up-Ed, the final five years. Starts when you’re fifteen. I’ll be joining next semester. I don’t have no pro tips from the inside there, but I do know all about the Echelon.”
“Echelon?” I echoed her last word.
“It’s a big virtual game thing. You literally get physically placed in a videogame. So rad.” She shook her head enviously. “We spend all five years of Mid-Ed just gearing up. Drills and the whole lot. We don’t get to step a foot inside the arena until we age out, though.” She paused. “You’re what, seventeen?”
“Yeah.” I said, worried about the implications.
“Still got like three years to go. Plenty of fun.” She leaned back with a sigh. “You didn’t even have all the suspense. You won’t fully appreciate the privilege.”
“I think I’ll skip.”
“WHAT?” She burst out. “First off, you can’t. Second off, why?”
“Can’t?”
“Mandatory. It’s a law. Big deal. Nobody gets out. Not the emos. Not the fat kids. Not the nerds. Not even the principal’s daughter.”
“Are there medical passes?”
“Rarely.” She looked me in the eyes. “Practically nobody applies. Twofold. One, nobody wants to leave the games. And two,” she paused dramatically, “passes are like eclipses. One every ten years or so.”
“I’m fairly certain eclipses don’t-”
She cut me off. “Whatever. Point is, you’re playing, and you’re gonna love it.”
“Whatever.” I shot straight back at her. “I’ve got my ways.”
She just shook her head, something like disappointment leaching up into her eyes. “Why though? Man, you have no idea how long I’ve waited. And I still can’t. And you’re just looking at this like it’s some sort of civic duty you’ve got to evade.” She blinked once. “I had pictured this. Telling you about the games. Getting you riled up. Watching you play. Cheering on my big bro.” She gave me a look. “You’re not gonna give it a shot even, are you?”
I hate expectations.
I like the backstory. I like the setting. I like the characters. I like the game.
“Nu-uh.” December shook her head, flinging her dreadlocks everywhere. “Mom’s a real biter. She’s not letting you go anytime soon. Not till you’ve burned the house down and threatened me at gunpoint.”
“That could be arranged.”
“I’m not playing the part.” She waved a finger at me.
“Oh bricks.” I finally said, becoming resigned to my fate. “What’s the system like here?”
“Okay, here we go.” She moved to the bed to sit beside me. “There’s three levels of education. The first five years are a joke, more or less, you learn how to take naps and that you should color in the lines. Next five you actually learn to color in the lines, and there’s math and boyfriends and stuff. That’s Mid-Ed. It sucks. Finally, there’s Up-Ed, the final five years. Starts when you’re fifteen. I’ll be joining next semester. I don’t have no pro tips from the inside there, but I do know all about the Echelon.”
“Echelon?” I echoed her last word.
“It’s a big virtual game thing. You literally get physically placed in a videogame. So rad.” She shook her head enviously. “We spend all five years of Mid-Ed just gearing up. Drills and the whole lot. We don’t get to step a foot inside the arena until we age out, though.” She paused. “You’re what, seventeen?”
“Yeah.” I said, worried about the implications.
“Still got like three years to go. Plenty of fun.” She leaned back with a sigh. “You didn’t even have all the suspense. You won’t fully appreciate the privilege.”
“I think I’ll skip.”
“WHAT?” She burst out. “First off, you can’t. Second off, why?”
“Can’t?”
“Mandatory. It’s a law. Big deal. Nobody gets out. Not the emos. Not the fat kids. Not the nerds. Not even the principal’s daughter.”
“Are there medical passes?”
“Rarely.” She looked me in the eyes. “Practically nobody applies. Twofold. One, nobody wants to leave the games. And two,” she paused dramatically, “passes are like eclipses. One every ten years or so.”
“I’m fairly certain eclipses don’t-”
She cut me off. “Whatever. Point is, you’re playing, and you’re gonna love it.”
“Whatever.” I shot straight back at her. “I’ve got my ways.”
She just shook her head, something like disappointment leaching up into her eyes. “Why though? Man, you have no idea how long I’ve waited. And I still can’t. And you’re just looking at this like it’s some sort of civic duty you’ve got to evade.” She blinked once. “I had pictured this. Telling you about the games. Getting you riled up. Watching you play. Cheering on my big bro.” She gave me a look. “You’re not gonna give it a shot even, are you?”
I hate expectations.
1. He's so desperate that he's willing to try anything at this point. 2. We do not speak of this foul thing called "math" I like that it's a whole category on its own. xD 3. Great Expectations
“Nu-uh.” December shook her head, flinging her dreadlocks everywhere. “Mom’s a real biter. She’s not letting you go anytime soon. Not till you’ve burned the house down and threatened me at gunpoint.”
“That could be arranged.”
*
“Okay, here we go.” She moved to the bed to sit beside me. “There’s three levels of education. The first five years are a joke, more or less, you learn how to take naps and that you should color in the lines. Next five you actually learn to color in the lines, and there’s math and boyfriends and stuff. That’s Mid-Ed. It sucks. Finally, there’s Up-Ed, the final five years. Starts when you’re fifteen. I’ll be joining next semester. I don’t have no pro tips from the inside there, but I do know all about the Echelon.”
“Echelon?” I echoed her last word.
“It’s a big virtual game thing. You literally get physically placed in a videogame. So rad.” She shook her head enviously. “We spend all five years of Mid-Ed just gearing up. Drills and the whole lot. We don’t get to step a foot inside the arena until we age out, though.” She paused. “You’re what, seventeen?”
*
“Rarely.” She looked me in the eyes. “Practically nobody applies. Twofold. One, nobody wants to leave the games. And two,” she paused dramatically, “passes are like eclipses. One every ten years or so.”
“I’m fairly certain eclipses don’t-”
*
She just shook her head, something like disappointment leaching up into her eyes. “Why though? Man, you have no idea how long I’ve waited. And I still can’t. And you’re just looking at this like it’s some sort of civic duty you’ve got to evade.” She blinked once. “I had pictured this. Telling you about the games. Getting you riled up. Watching you play. Cheering on my big bro.” She gave me a look. “You’re not gonna give it a shot even, are you?”
I hate expectations.
Nate sounds a lot like me right now.
Echelon? *accidentally pronounces this with German accent* xD I N T R I G U I N G
xD
I. FEEL. YOU. SO. MUCH. XD This may be the most I've ever felt I share in common with an LMBE fictional character.
“Nu-uh.” December shook her head, flinging her dreadlocks everywhere. “Mom’s a real biter. She’s not letting you go anytime soon. Not till you’ve burned the house down and threatened me at gunpoint.”
“That could be arranged.”
“I’m not playing the part.” She waved a finger at me.
“Oh bricks.” I finally said, becoming resigned to my fate. “What’s the system like here?”
“Okay, here we go.” She moved to the bed to sit beside me. “There’s three levels of education. The first five years are a joke, more or less, you learn how to take naps and that you should color in the lines. Next five you actually learn to color in the lines, and there’s math and boyfriends and stuff. That’s Mid-Ed. It sucks. Finally, there’s Up-Ed, the final five years. Starts when you’re fifteen. I’ll be joining next semester. I don’t have no pro tips from the inside there, but I do know all about the Echelon.”
“Echelon?” I echoed her last word.
“It’s a big virtual game thing. You literally get physically placed in a videogame. So rad.” She shook her head enviously. “We spend all five years of Mid-Ed just gearing up. Drills and the whole lot. We don’t get to step a foot inside the arena until we age out, though.” She paused. “You’re what, seventeen?”
“Yeah.” I said, worried about the implications.
“Still got like three years to go. Plenty of fun.” She leaned back with a sigh. “You didn’t even have all the suspense. You won’t fully appreciate the privilege.”
“I think I’ll skip.”
“WHAT?” She burst out. “First off, you can’t. Second off, why?”
“Can’t?”
“Mandatory. It’s a law. Big deal. Nobody gets out. Not the emos. Not the fat kids. Not the nerds. Not even the principal’s daughter.”
“Are there medical passes?”
“Rarely.” She looked me in the eyes. “Practically nobody applies. Twofold. One, nobody wants to leave the games. And two,” she paused dramatically, “passes are like eclipses. One every ten years or so.”
“I’m fairly certain eclipses don’t-”
She cut me off. “Whatever. Point is, you’re playing, and you’re gonna love it.”
“Whatever.” I shot straight back at her. “I’ve got my ways.”
She just shook her head, something like disappointment leaching up into her eyes. “Why though? Man, you have no idea how long I’ve waited. And I still can’t. And you’re just looking at this like it’s some sort of civic duty you’ve got to evade.” She blinked once. “I had pictured this. Telling you about the games. Getting you riled up. Watching you play. Cheering on my big bro.” She gave me a look. “You’re not gonna give it a shot even, are you?”
I hate expectations.
I like the backstory. I like the setting. I like the characters. I like the game.
“Nu-uh.” December shook her head, flinging her dreadlocks everywhere. “Mom’s a real biter. She’s not letting you go anytime soon. Not till you’ve burned the house down and threatened me at gunpoint.”
“That could be arranged.”
“I’m not playing the part.” She waved a finger at me.
“Oh bricks.” I finally said, becoming resigned to my fate. “What’s the system like here?”
“Okay, here we go.” She moved to the bed to sit beside me. “There’s three levels of education. The first five years are a joke, more or less, you learn how to take naps and that you should color in the lines. Next five you actually learn to color in the lines, and there’s math and boyfriends and stuff. That’s Mid-Ed. It sucks. Finally, there’s Up-Ed, the final five years. Starts when you’re fifteen. I’ll be joining next semester. I don’t have no pro tips from the inside there, but I do know all about the Echelon.”
“Echelon?” I echoed her last word.
“It’s a big virtual game thing. You literally get physically placed in a videogame. So rad.” She shook her head enviously. “We spend all five years of Mid-Ed just gearing up. Drills and the whole lot. We don’t get to step a foot inside the arena until we age out, though.” She paused. “You’re what, seventeen?”
“Yeah.” I said, worried about the implications.
“Still got like three years to go. Plenty of fun.” She leaned back with a sigh. “You didn’t even have all the suspense. You won’t fully appreciate the privilege.”
“I think I’ll skip.”
“WHAT?” She burst out. “First off, you can’t. Second off, why?”
“Can’t?”
“Mandatory. It’s a law. Big deal. Nobody gets out. Not the emos. Not the fat kids. Not the nerds. Not even the principal’s daughter.”
“Are there medical passes?”
“Rarely.” She looked me in the eyes. “Practically nobody applies. Twofold. One, nobody wants to leave the games. And two,” she paused dramatically, “passes are like eclipses. One every ten years or so.”
“I’m fairly certain eclipses don’t-”
She cut me off. “Whatever. Point is, you’re playing, and you’re gonna love it.”
“Whatever.” I shot straight back at her. “I’ve got my ways.”
She just shook her head, something like disappointment leaching up into her eyes. “Why though? Man, you have no idea how long I’ve waited. And I still can’t. And you’re just looking at this like it’s some sort of civic duty you’ve got to evade.” She blinked once. “I had pictured this. Telling you about the games. Getting you riled up. Watching you play. Cheering on my big bro.” She gave me a look. “You’re not gonna give it a shot even, are you?”
I hate expectations.
1. He's so desperate that he's willing to try anything at this point. 2. We do not speak of this foul thing called "math" I like that it's a whole category on its own. xD 3. Great Expectations
1. He is greatly averse to the idea of school.
2. Lol, me trying to describe school from a teenage girl's perspective was interesting.
“Nu-uh.” December shook her head, flinging her dreadlocks everywhere. “Mom’s a real biter. She’s not letting you go anytime soon. Not till you’ve burned the house down and threatened me at gunpoint.”
“That could be arranged.”
*
“Okay, here we go.” She moved to the bed to sit beside me. “There’s three levels of education. The first five years are a joke, more or less, you learn how to take naps and that you should color in the lines. Next five you actually learn to color in the lines, and there’s math and boyfriends and stuff. That’s Mid-Ed. It sucks. Finally, there’s Up-Ed, the final five years. Starts when you’re fifteen. I’ll be joining next semester. I don’t have no pro tips from the inside there, but I do know all about the Echelon.”
“Echelon?” I echoed her last word.
“It’s a big virtual game thing. You literally get physically placed in a videogame. So rad.” She shook her head enviously. “We spend all five years of Mid-Ed just gearing up. Drills and the whole lot. We don’t get to step a foot inside the arena until we age out, though.” She paused. “You’re what, seventeen?”
*
“Rarely.” She looked me in the eyes. “Practically nobody applies. Twofold. One, nobody wants to leave the games. And two,” she paused dramatically, “passes are like eclipses. One every ten years or so.”
“I’m fairly certain eclipses don’t-”
*
She just shook her head, something like disappointment leaching up into her eyes. “Why though? Man, you have no idea how long I’ve waited. And I still can’t. And you’re just looking at this like it’s some sort of civic duty you’ve got to evade.” She blinked once. “I had pictured this. Telling you about the games. Getting you riled up. Watching you play. Cheering on my big bro.” She gave me a look. “You’re not gonna give it a shot even, are you?”
I hate expectations.
Nate sounds a lot like me right now.
Echelon? *accidentally pronounces this with German accent* xD I N T R I G U I N G
xD
I. FEEL. YOU. SO. MUCH. XD This may be the most I've ever felt I share in common with an LMBE fictional character.
Well, that's unexpected.
It's gonna play a large part.
I have like zip in common with this guy, I'm super surprised he's coming off as relatable.
-last edited on Feb 12, 2019 23:41:03 GMT by TheGreatCon
Post by TheGreatCon on Feb 12, 2019 23:40:41 GMT
Chapter 4: Dinner and the Dead
Chink. Chink. Chink.
I had a tiny pick gripped tightly in my hands, the rough texture of the leather wrapped around the handle conveyed through my glove. I had a set of goggles attached to my forehead, the zoom set to almost 100% as I put in intricate work that was an essential part of my work.
I had finished shaping the item last night, putting me even farther ahead of schedule. I was now settled down at my desk. An adjustable oil-burning lamp burned above my head, illuminating the piece and the scattered design drawings that coated my desk. I had about three hundred different patterns, and a set ten or so that were basically my trademark. On a weapon of this size and expected tier, I would need approximately seventy-six etchings at around 68% zoom. I was working on my thirty-second at 82% zoom. Never let it be said that my shop didn’t produce above-standard equipment.
My hands started cramping up later, and I set down the pick with a sigh. I grabbed the weapon and turned it over and over in my hand, admiring the balance and decals. It was getting there. A very elaborate piece indeed.
He wanted a tier five. That was a good solid weapon. A ten was bordering on special item. Seventeen was the highest-discovered tier. Benboy and Skul’s faction of course had it in their pockets. The highest I’d ever produced was a seven, though I knew I was capable of much more.
I didn’t like making high tier weapons though. I mean, I enjoyed the work. But handing it over always made me kind of sick. What were they planning to do with this? I didn’t want to spot one of my weapons in the hands of a bloc forerunner.
I decided it was time for a stroll. Sometimes I spent so long inside my shop that I forgot some people played this game for fun.
I made sure the forge wasn’t about to spill out and burn the whole place down, and then unbolted the door and stepped out. I locked it behind me, and turned to face the cobbled street. Giant lamps illuminated the street corners, lighting up huge pools of swimming light beneath their poles. I shared the street with a stable and a tavern. It was things like this that made me glad I didn’t have a full immersion suit. I’d have to smell them then.
I stepped up to the tavern, more for lack of something else to do than anything else. Our town was a bit of a dead hub, we had a lot of inhabitants, all of them just about as boring as I was. It was the strangers that kept us all from moving out. Or maybe it was the lack of strangers.
Anyways, stepping inside, I recognized barely anybody in the tavern. Then again, there was barely anybody in the tavern. I’m also not the most popular guy in town, so I know like six users tops. I sell most my stuff to people passing through.
One of my few acquaintances was there, though. I at first headed away, but then we made eye contact, and I had no choice. I stumped over and straddled a stool.
“Hey Nexo.” He said. “Ain’t seen you in a couple months. Aren’t going drop-decline on us, are you now?”
“I keep to my shop.” I said, my voice coming out slightly deeper and raspier thanks to the game’s voice editing software. You could change anything. You could be anything.
I was of above-average build, twenty-something and dressed in a flowing cloak that served to obscure my features. My skin glistened a bit in the torchlight, a chocolaty brown, that matched up pretty well with me in real life. My features were kind of haggard and drawn, my beard a bit scraggly and long, my hair pulled back off my head and disappearing into my hood. It actually went all the way down to my waist, but I was probably the only person in the game who realized that. It was an achievement of sorts. Hair grew at the regular rate here; I hadn’t had a trim in four years. The fact that you had to pay for a haircut in-game might have been a piece of that.
![[derp]](http://storage.proboards.com/6672327/images/YqNTPqyQUocVMYXZgUAI.png)
I am well prepared for the rest of the story now. : )