Welcome to the Tutorial!

Sam’s eyes shot open. He jumped to his feet and grabbed the dagger from the table. He ran through the doorway on the far side and briskly walked down the hall. Near the middle he specifically stepped around one tile. Near the end he also avoided a second tile.

After his first few rounds, Sam learned to identify the trapped tiles. They had slightly higher elevations in order to hide the mechanisms in them. With careful steps he would never trigger them again.

Once he reached the door Sam stopped moving. He breathed slowly, as if to prepare himself. He had fought the strange monster on the other side 14 times now, each ending in his own death… But every time he had improved. The first time he was too dehydrated to put up a fight. The second time the goblin ran him through the gambit, and so on.

Every time Sam fought the goblin he watched the creature carefully. He took note of everything, from the way the goblin held his blade to the way it moved its feet. Sam emulated the beast, and after much practice even managed to successfully parry a few of its blows.

Sam’s body moved faster than he remembered, and his dynamic vision seemed far improved. The ability to ‘respawn’ had given him the freedom to test his limits, and he found them boundless. Every fight he grew stronger, every fight he grew faster.

This time he was confident. There was no other way out. He needed to get past this odd goblin in order to escape this ‘tutorial’.

Sam’s initial timidness had faded. The terror of dying from dehydration or hunger weighed more on his mind than anything else. He’d rather die by the goblin’s blade than face such things again.

And so, with great vigour, Sam pushed open the Goblin’s door.

-

The goblin rushed forward, keeping its shoulders back. It lunged its knife, aiming for Sam’s center of mass.

Sam moved to the side and used his free hand to sway the goblin’s stab before unleashing a flurry of his own. The two traded blow after blow, and cuts began to mar their arms.

This was the furthest Sam had ever gotten. He had studied the goblin’s movements and he had prepared for this fight to the fullest of his ability.

And Sam began to understand one key thing: there was a limit to imitation. He knew that if he only copied his foe he’d never surpass him.

With that thought in mind, Sam decided it was time to show his own prowess. He didn’t lack for inspiration, having played many games in his life.

When the goblin struck forward again, Sam focused. He knew the goblin followed six key patterns in its attacks.

Sam parried blow after blow, waiting for the right opportunity. Blood trickled down his arms as numerous cuts formed. His jaw clenched. Sam’s eyes glowed with determination.

Finally, the goblin stepped forward into a lunge.

Rather than retreat from the incoming stab per normal, Sam moved forward. Grabbing the goblin’s guiding hand, Sam spun. He aimed to lodge his knife into the back of the goblin’s neck.

Sam’s strike landed true, and the goblin collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut. The spin didn’t stop, however.

The accrued blood on the floor created a slippery surface, and Sam found himself falling. When he hit the ground a sharp pain surged through his abdomen.

Sam rolled over and found his own knife sticking out of his stomach. His face turned first green and then red. Embarrassment and anger welled up inside him. He had finally defeated the goblin, but in doing so he had stabbed himself. A wave of resignation surged through him, and Sam stared up at the stone ceiling above, waiting for the welcome message again… A message that never came.

It took five minutes of agony before Sam realized he hadn’t died. He tried to roll forward, but the muscles in his midsection wouldn’t work. Moving caused the knife to penetrate deeper.

Reluctantly, Sam gripped the handle of the knife and groaned. With a tremendous effort, he ignored the surging tides of torment and finally dislodged the shiv, letting it clatter to the stone floor beside him.

His blood began to overflow from the wound like water from a clogged sink. Sam ripped his shirt and immediately began compressing the cut, thankful for the minimum first aid he had been taught.

Every movement caused misery, but Sam was determined. He finally rose to his feet and noticed the goblin’s corpse on the ground. He hobbled over to it and sat down.

Sam could feel the pangs of hunger and thirst encroaching. He eyed the goblin and considered, for a moment, if he would have to try and devour the flesh of the beast. It was humanoid in shape, and the thought of eating it repulsed him.

Sam searched through the monster’s leather pockets until he finally found what he had been looking for: a key. Sam also took the goblin’s leathers and hung them over his shoulder, wondering if he could make use of them.

Sam fumbled with the weight of the leathers as he moved towards the locked door opposite his own entrance. They were gaudy and heavy. Sam wished he had some kind of storage power, but reality forsook him.

His stomach burned and he dry heaved twice, but his desire to discover what laid beyond the dungeon compelled him forward. Having faced the terror and suffering of dehydration before, a mere stab wound couldn’t stop him now.

“Why do you even try?”

His father’s words echoed in his head. Sam grit his teeth. His makeshift bandage tore, and blood poured down his body like rain. But he continued on. Step after step, until he reached the door. He fumbled with the lock, but a sense of accomplishment overwhelmed him when he heard the click of the tumblers.

‘Why do I even try?’ Sam asked himself, almost mockingly. The question had tormented him when he was younger. Back then Sam couldn’t truthfully answer his father. The words tasted like iron in his mouth, or perhaps he was confusing them with the taste of blood.

-

The door opened up into a small room. In the center was a desk with a book on it. Sam dropped the bloody leathers, letting them hit the floor in a pile, and he limped his way to the desk. He grabbed hold of the book, examining it. The tome held no markings on its gray surface.

Carefully, with the delicacy of a scholar, Sam opened the book to the first page.

‘An Introduction to Magic’

He read the title page quietly to himself, and a smile bloomed. The room seemed to spin for a moment, and Sam fell over backwards, the back of his head smashing onto the floor. He died with a smile on his face.

Then, as always, the same floating blue screen appeared in front of him:

Welcome to the Tutorial!