Chapter 003

  First Steps

  Closing the inventory screen allowed other notifications to start appearing.

  Achievement: Enter New Horizon City - You spoke 'Yes' at the prompt, and started your new life in New Horizon City. Congratulations.

  He found it interesting but not all that important. Most games had some basic achievements at the start that really didn't amount to much.

  Only a few seconds after it appeared, it started fading and another popped up.

  Achievement: First One Thousand - You are among the first 1,000 to play New Horizon City. Your name will be immortalized in the future retail version.

  This one was slightly more interesting, though just as useless.

  He already knew from having watched past events that if he died early on in the competition they would simply rename a building or a basic quest after him. Only a handful of the first one thousand would truly get their names immortalized in any meaningful way.

  In any case what it really meant was the opportunity at financial freedom back in the real world. The first one thousand players in any NexaTechNeuro event had the potential to earn millions.

  Two of the players from the last game had even managed to come very close to billionaires. That was before being taxed on the income, of course.

  Earning real world money based on audience metrics like popularity, wagered amounts, and total watch time meant there was always player drama. It had been built into every game the studio made.

  Incentivizing conflict and action, and rewarding those who pursued it made for good entertainment. The more people watched and wagered on contestants, the bigger the ultimate payouts could be.

  All Ethan really knew was that being one of the last few players meant big dollars. It was unrealistic for him to dream of that since he typically had a laid-back casual gaming style, but he couldn't help daydreaming of earning a substantial payout of some type.

  To do so meant being in the top ten percent. He only needed to outlast nine hundred other players to probably be set for the rest of his life, if inflation didn’t one day make his wealth mean nothing. Anything beyond that would be icing on the cake.

  For months he’d felt incredibly fortunate just to have the opportunity. Tens of billions of raffle tickets had been sold globally. The odds of him having won a slot from just one random string of seven numbers had felt like a dream.

  But now here he was, living and breathing an entirely new life inside a gangster simulation.

  In summary, he knew none of that mattered if he didn’t survive, and in order to do that he had to focus. He couldn’t play this like a casual sandbox game. He would pick a path and take it hardcore for as long as he possibly could.

  Every player he’d ever seen do well in a NexaTechNeuro live event had min-maxed their way to greatness. Regardless of the genre, there was an obvious design philosophy the studio practiced, and he would try to tap into that.

  As boring as it might be to pick a lane and do that one thing for the rest of his life, the choice often had good results for players. With that in mind, all he had to do was figure out what choice to make.

  Life always came down to a handful of important choices.

  Sighing, he looked about his room in greater detail, trying to shift his focus forward. The apartment felt smaller than it had seemed during the introduction.

  A table and a chair served as his furniture. A whisky glass sat next to an unlabeled bottle of brown liquor. A half-smoked cigar burned next to it.

  It was obvious his character was a smoker and a drinker, in part due to what he’d seen a week earlier. Being inebriated while playing might be fun but he figured it was a quick way to make bad choices.

  He pulled up his character profile and found no indications of impairment. As far as he could tell from a picture of himself, he was simply in a rough patch.

  Not seeing any warning icons or bold letters in his status window, he relaxed. Before closing out, he took a moment to ponder over how ridiculously empty the screen was.

  Reading his profile aloud, he said, "level zero, no affiliations, and no titles."

  There were several other blocks where information could be, but they were blank. Hopefully that would clear up before too long.

  Closing out the profile screen, he looked back at the cigar and the liquor.

  They were tempting in a curious game mechanic kind of way, like how they might make him feel compared to reality. But otherwise he had no interest.

  The tiny space only had one other area. He looked into the room through a small doorway next to the mattress on the floor, and saw a toilet, sink, bathtub, and a mirror.

  On the floor near his bed was a metal toolbox. Hoping to find a hammer or some large item he could use for a weapon, he opened it.

  Inside was a wrench, multiple screwdrivers, pliers, and a few other items he recognized immediately even though he’d never used them before. In the real world he was a grocery stocker at Mall-Mart, and he’d never been very handy with tools.

  It was a bit funny someone had decided to make him a handyman in the game. He smirked at the thought, but tried to move along. For some reason he was having difficulty keeping his mind on track.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  Shaking the strange feeling away, he focused on the tools.

  The system allowed him to put the tools in his inventory, and even to equip them in his hand slots, but there was a big blank spot where the description of the stats should have been. He wasn't even sure what type of stats existed.

  When he held any of the items, like a big pair of weird pliers he picked up, the stat block read:

  Basic Leather Punch Pliers

  These basic hole-punch pliers are well worn, with only a few sizing options. It fits in the hand nicely, and gets the job done, but why do you have them if you're not a leather worker? Can be held but will not inflict damage upon NPCs or Other Players.

  There was no other information.

  He shrugged and put all the tools back in the box except one flathead screwdriver. There was no sense in taking up all the slots in his inventory. He had nothing to fix or fight at that moment, but he kept one just to be safe.

  If he had to guess, he wasn't able to wield weapons at level zero. It was likely more important to get those handyman tasks done, and to learn more about why Mr. Gallagher had killed The Owl.

  Achievement: First Weapon - You held an item for the first time that is capable of additional damage.

  He smirked again, wondering if the near-pointless notifications would continue. It was also oddly humorous to him that he'd received an achievement for holding something capable of damage, but that he couldn't do any damage.

  Having nothing else to do inside, it was time to venture out from the apartment. It was the next logical step, he figured, and so he slowly opened the door.

  The hinges creaked loudly in protest, echoing down a dim hallway. Wondering if WD-40 had been invented yet, he closed it behind him. In this world he couldn't pull out his smartphone and instantly get the answer to anything imaginable.

  Achievement: First Steps - You have exited your apartment and begun exploring Grimsborough Heights.

  Looking down the hall, he saw floral wallpaper and dirty carpet. The place felt safe, but he wasn't taking any chances.

  At the end of the hall, he went down a narrow staircase and cautiously descended three flights until he reached the ground floor.

  A wide hallway ushered him into a small lobby. Maroon carpet with gold borders stretched the entire length, and a large glass door looked out upon a dark city street.

  Beside the door there was a tired man who sat on a stool. Next to him on the wall were dozens of postage slots dedicated to residents.

  The old man had a light grey name over his head, indicating Raymond was a NPC.

  Before he spoke to the NPC, a blue-named character passed outside in front of the windows, moving erratically and looking in every which direction. Clearly, it was another real player who must have started somewhere nearby.

  Ethan stepped out of view just to be safe. In some games blue meant friendly, and in others it meant the players could fight one another.

  He took a guess at the player being unable to hurt him, but until he knew that for certain, he didn't want to risk it. And anyway, Ethan had always been a bit of a loner who didn't immediately strike up new friendships.

  From around the corner of the hallway, he heard the door jiggle but not open.

  Raymond told the player, “you do not reside here, Jason McArthur. You may gain access by renting an apartment unit or being invited.”

  "Awww, man!" he heard man speak with an east-coast American accent. "Bro! I saw you in there. I live just two buildings over! We should try and team up to do missions together!"

  The door jiggled a few more times, but Jason McArthur was unable to get in.

  Ethan wasn't really interested in teaming up just yet. He felt like it was too early, and if he was being honest with himself, he knew the drama involved with teams in a game like this.

  While he waited for the player to give up, the situation had him wondering about mini-maps. He didn't have one on his interface, and it was actually a bit weird in his opinion.

  Most games had a map of some kind.

  The way his user interface worked was through simple thought recognition. Thankfully, NexaTechNeuro had provided all the contestants with several training sessions before they started the real game.

  All he had to do was think about what part of his menu he wanted to open, and there it was. But no matter how he thought about a map, no map appeared, and he started thinking there might not be one.

  He tried multiple times to bring up a map simply by thinking of a map or commanding for one. After several failed tries, the system finally provided some text in front of his eyes with a verbal message.

  The familiar woman's voice said, “No access."

  “Great."

  But that got him to thinking even harder. Obviously there was a map, he just couldn't access it.

  Shrugging the issue away for later concern, he peered around the corner and saw that Jason McArthur had conveniently left the area.

  Walking up to the night shift porter at the front door, Ethan Jones stood there. He expected Raymond to prompt him with a list of available options they could talk about.

  When his boss Mr. Gallagher had yelled at him, it was a scripted event, and he assumed interactions with NPCs wouldn't be like real conversations. Dialogue options had been part of previous games.

  So he stood awkwardly in front of the man looking for ways to initiate dialogue. He knew he looked like an idiot, for sure, but it was all part of how games worked.

  The NPC studied him when he said nothing.

  “Mr. Jones?” the man asked raising an eyebrow at Ethan. "You're acting quite peculiar, young man. Are you okay?"

  "Yes, sir," he said quickly, trying to regather his thoughts after acting stupid. “Um… Who is that player out there? The one who tried to get in?"

  Raymond looked but said, "I'm not familiar with that player, sir. He does not reside here."

  He nodded, understanding the man's meaning. Raymond knew the player’s name. He'd heard the man say it. Apparently NPCs didn't discuss that with players if they didn't also know the other player.

  Ethan wondered how the player had already made it outside of their starting location, but to be fair, he had spent several minutes going through his inventory and profile screens, and with investigating his apartment.

  "Yeah. I've never seen him either."

  The doorman leaned back to half-sit atop his stool, but the man continued eyeballing him. Ethan was clearly acting strange from his viewpoint, so he tried to imagine what that might be.

  His personal recollections of interacting with Raymond in the game weren't exactly clear. He knew the man, but he didn't know anything about the man, as if all he ever did was offer small greetings as he passed.

  The man asked, “What brings you down so late, Mr. Jones?”

  He shifted his weight, trying to appear casual. It was strange being stuck in a situation where he was supposed to act a certain way without knowing what that way was.

  Raymond knew him, but he knew nothing about the man.

  With little else to go on, he answered a simple, "I can’t sleep."

  Raymond's eyebrows lifted. “Well, what would you like to talk about? I have plenty of time, young man. It get's quiet and lonely down here sometimes, and especially at the end of my shift. Claude will be in at seven, you know."

  I nodded, the name of the day shift NPC coming to mind. “How about this apartment building to start with, Raymond, and maybe the neighborhood?”

  "What about it? You're the one Mr. Gallagher hired to fix up his units. You've already seen inside the walls more than I have, and I've been manning this door for twenty-three years."

  "Right."

  "How about the history?" Ethan asked, pretending to know some handyman terminology, "the, um… stud walls and the brick work are crooked. It looks like a blind man stacked the… um… foundation or something."

  He cringed even as he spewed out the nonsense, and he kind of wondered why the system hadn't automatically helped him. He'd known a great deal as soon as he was loaded into the world, but he felt stupid when it came to the very thing he did for work.

  Raymond chuckled. Ethan wondered if the programming knew he had no idea what the heck he was talking about.

  “This old apartment?" Raymond said. "Hollow Court's been here longer than I have, that's for sure. But I don't know the builders. Must be pushing two hundred years now. Old, yeah, but solid as a rock. You won't find many buildings in The Grims with bones this good."

  "The Grims?" He asked, realizing once again he sounded off.

  Raymond's eyes narrowed. "Grimsborough Heights, Mr. Jones. I'm starting to suspect you're not acting right."

  Trying to salvage himself, Ethan quickly blurted out, "Of course. I'm just tired. So the whole neighborhood's gone downhill except for this building, huh?"

  "It's rough," Raymond said, his tone cautious. "But you know that as well as any. Hollow Court and some of the other rentals he owns are decent places. Mr. Gallagher's a good landlord and boss as long as you stay out of his mobster business like I do. All I'm good for is manning the door, making basic conversation, and making sure the tenants get their mail."