He surveyed his living room, now subtly overlaid with the game's interface. A faint shimmer outlined various objects, presumably indicating interactability. The armchair had a label: Comfy Chair of Mild Discomfort (Equipped). His collection of slightly dusty garden gnomes was labeled: Decorative Gnome (Non-Interactive). Even the half-eaten bowl of lukewarm pudding bore the tag: Pudding of Questionable Temperature (Replenishes 2 HP if Consumed).
"Replenishes two HP?" Barty muttered, eyeing the congealing mass with suspicion. "That seems… optimistic."
He began his quest, his eyes scanning the room for the errant trousers. He checked under the Comfy Chair of Mild Discomfort, behind the Decorative Gnome (who seemed to be judging him), and even peered inside the empty pudding bowl, just in case they’d somehow teleported during the reality reshaping.
“Right, pants,” he mumbled to himself, feeling a slight draft. “Where would a pair of perfectly good, if slightly tight, trousers go in a reality that’s apparently run by video game logic?”
Suddenly, a small, insistent clucking sound drew his attention. Perched precariously on the lampshade was a chicken. Not a normal chicken, oh no. This chicken had glowing red eyes and a tiny health bar above its head that read: Existential Chicken (Level 3) - HP: 15/15.
Barty froze. “A… a chicken? With a health bar? Is this part of the game?”
The Existential Chicken tilted its head, its beady red eyes fixated on Barty. It let out another mournful cluck, followed by what sounded suspiciously like a sigh.
Existential Chicken: “Another cog in the meaningless machine… destined to peck and be pecked…”
Barty blinked. “Did that chicken just… philosophize?”
The quest log updated.
NEW SUB-QUEST: Investigate the Existential Chicken (Difficulty: Moderate)
Barty groaned. He just wanted his pants.
Ignoring the philosophical poultry for the moment, he continued his search. Finally, behind the curtains, he spotted them – his trusty beige chinos, slightly crumpled but otherwise intact. A triumphant grin spread across his face.
He reached for them, but as his fingers brushed the fabric, a notification popped up.
WARNING! ATTEMPTING TO EQUIP PANTS WITHOUT ACHIEVING ‘PANTS PROFICIENCY (LEVEL 1)’ MAY RESULT IN STAT DEBUFFS.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Barty stared at the notification, then at the pants. “Pants proficiency? Is that even a thing? What kind of stat debuffs are we talking about? Social awkwardness? Increased risk of wedgies?”
He decided to risk it. He was cold, and frankly, dealing with an existential chicken while bare-legged felt like a recipe for disaster.
As he pulled on the chinos, another notification appeared.
PANTS EQUIPPED. -2 Charisma due to Mismatched Socks.
Barty looked down. He was indeed wearing one blue sock with cartoon ducks and one striped red and white sock. He sighed. Even the game was judging his fashion sense.
With his legs now adequately covered, he turned back to the Existential Chicken, who was now pecking despondently at the lampshade.
“Alright, chicken,” Barty said, trying to sound authoritative despite his mismatched socks and the lingering scent of lukewarm pudding clinging to him. “What’s your deal? Why are you having an existential crisis on my lampshade?”
Existential Chicken: “The void… it stares back, human. We are but fleeting moments in the grand, uncaring cosmos. What is the meaning of pecking? What is the purpose of laying eggs, only for them to be… scrambled?”
Barty scratched his head. “Look, I appreciate the philosophical musings, but do you happen to know where I can find, say, a decent cup of coffee around here? This reality reshaping has made me rather peckish.”
The chicken stopped pecking and looked at him, its red eyes narrowing slightly.
Existential Chicken: “Coffee? A temporary stimulant to mask the crushing weight of existence? Is that all you seek?”
Suddenly, the chicken ruffled its feathers and a new notification appeared.
Existential Chicken has initiated dialogue!
Barty blinked. Dialogue? With a chicken? This was getting weirder by the minute.
DIALOGUE OPTIONS:
- Agree with the chicken’s philosophical outlook.
- Offer the chicken some lukewarm pudding.
- Ask the chicken if it’s seen a map of this place.
- Attempt to shoo the chicken off the lampshade.
Barty considered his options. Agreeing with the chicken seemed like it might lead to a lengthy and depressing conversation. Offering it pudding felt wrong on several levels. Shooing it might aggro it, and he wasn’t sure how much damage an Existential Chicken could do.
He chose option three. “So, about that map…”
Existential Chicken: “A map? A futile attempt to chart the uncharted territory of our own insignificance! But… yes. Agnes has one. She hoards knowledge like a squirrel hoards… well, nuts. Though, what is the true meaning of a nut?”
Barty resisted the urge to bang his head against the wall. “Agnes? Who’s Agnes?”
Existential Chicken: “Agnes. The quest-giver. She smells faintly of lavender and disappointment. You’ll find her by the Slightly Crooked Signpost in the village square. But be warned, her quests are often… existentially draining.”
The Existential Chicken then hopped off the lampshade and landed gracefully on the floor.
Existential Chicken has joined your party! (Temporary)
Barty stared in disbelief as the chicken followed him towards the door, muttering about the futility of doors and the illusion of separation.
“This is my life now, isn’t it?” he sighed, adjusting his mismatched socks. “Me, a village idiot, on a quest for coffee, accompanied by a philosophical chicken. And it all started with a pop-up ad.”
He opened the door, stepping out into the bewildering world of Glorious Questoria, the existential clucking of his new companion echoing behind him. The quest for slightly less lukewarm pudding would have to wait. He had pants to wear, a map to find, and a chicken to… well, he wasn't entirely sure what he was supposed to do with the chicken.