“I do not like easy games. Satisfaction comes from struggle and success, triumph over great odds and adversity. If that makes my game less accessible, so be it. I make games for those who appreciate them.”

from a launch day interview with Kotaro Mizaguchi.

Darkness.

A cool detachment as my consciousness left my body.

Somewhere in that darkness, disembodied voices, soft, mostly unintelligible. I caught a word here and there.

“If he chooses…will…chu….nu…but…this one…s..s.ssss….the lady too…” An old hag’s cackle like ice shards dripping from my spine.

A pearl of light emerged from the shadows before me. No, not quite light—but existence.

More voices. Like a whispering choir of devils.

“…interfere…w..w….the research!”

The sound of something dying slowly.

“Or completion!...No…noooooo….” Fevered anger. A cry from somewhere as existence grew before me like the Big Bang captured in ultra high resolution slow-mo.

Pressure on my back.

My bed back at home?

No. Something hard. Unforgiving.

Wood!

A misshapen floor. I felt splinters and hard edges pressing uncomfortably into my body as the oily darkness parted like a sea above me to reveal a sunken ceiling of warped rafters and rotten beams. A flicker of weak, pale amber light came from somewhere. I pressed my palms against the scarred wood and pushed myself into a seating position and looked around the room.

I was in some kind of workshop, the purpose of which was completely lost on me. Glass tankards lined one wall from floor to ceiling, filled with a thick blue fluid, in which, sat countless fleshy pink globs, suspended as though untouched by gravity.

Organs! I realized as I looked harder. My stomach turned at the sight, so I turned my attention to the rest of the room.

Rows and rows of wooden slab tables lined the opposite wall, covered in a thick red-brown substance, pooling at various places, sometimes still dripping to the floor.

Blood…

Tall glass windows lined the wall behind me, allowing streams of chilling moonlight to spill into the awful room, but the glass itself was fogged, caked with some unidentifiable mucilaginous grime, so that it was impossible to see outside. I got to my feet and glanced down at my body.

My legs were wrapped in simple black trousers that stooped high on my ankle before a pair of tattered brown-leather shoes. I was wearing some kind of brown leather vest over a grey shirt with an open neck and frayed ties. I held no weapons of any kind.

“Huh…” I muttered, my low voice deafeningly loud against the complete silence of the workshop.

Now, how do I open my inventory?

There was no obvious interface, and no guide had appeared to explain how things worked to me, so I started with a few hand waves in front of my face. Some games used a gesture system to bring up its menus, but nothing I did had any effect. Of course, even if Blood Seekers used such a system, not knowing the specific gestures would be a problem.

Finally, I glanced to the bottom right hand corner of my vision, and a tiny blue dot appeared. I focused on it, and it quickly expanded and revealed my character sheet. But when I examined it, I only became more confused.

Unknown Player—Unknown Level.

There were armor slots. There was bag space. There was a spot for a rune and a necklace, a spot for a main-hand and off-hand weapon, but they were all empty. I didn’t have a single item on me.

“What the Hell?” I muttered. A golden gesture indicator hung in front of me, indicating a downward swipe with the index and middle finger. I completed the gesture and my character sheet collapsed into itself and vanished into the corner of my vision. “Okay, that’s something…”

No hand-holding!

The phrase resonated within me with actual impact as I glanced around, completely lost. The sound of rusted hinges came from behind me, and I turned around to see a set of double doors, one of them swinging at an odd angle.

I guess that’s where I should go, I thought. After all, there was no other way out of the room—at least not that I could see.

I moved forward slowly, glancing at the rows of glass jars lining the wall beside me, and grimaced as my eyes landed on what looked like a brain, a human brain, complete with the top third of a spinal column.

As I pushed it aside, the door let out a maddening scream like you get when you pull open an ironing board. I paused before stepping into the other room. I felt vulnerable in a way I’d never felt when entering a game. Mizaguchi’s other creations had been challenging, sure, but at least you had a vague idea of what was going on. At that moment, I had no idea. And what was with my character sheet? Unknown Player? Unknown Level? Had I fallen victim to a launch-day glitch?

Briefly, I debated logging out and holoing Rey, but if she was in game, she wouldn’t be able to answer my call, so I pressed on.

The door opened into a barren room lit by low rows of candles lining the walls on my left and right. There were so many of them. Hideous pools of wax clung to the floor like dried snot. Struggling flames fought over the remaining wicks that hung like wilted flowers just before Winter. I took a single step forward, and that was when I saw it.

A creature stood at the center of the room with its back to me. It was humanoid, almost a man, but twisted version of a man, like one drawn with an ink-pen by an artist losing his mind on hallucinogenics. I focused on it, and a single line of ashen font appeared in the corner of my vision.

Failed Experiment—Level 1

The man swayed like a drunkard, staggered forward and flailed a rusty short sword through the air as though attempting to massacre an invisible foe.

“Unfit…unfit…unfit…” he muttered. His voice was raspy, and strained, as though his larynx had been scraped by steel wool. “Unfit…unfit!”

Okay, I thought, feeling a renewed sense of confidence. This is the tutorial, and this is my first monster where I’ll learn combat. He’ll drop his sword and then I’ll have my weapon! Besides, he’s only level 1.

I stepped forward, and as I did, the floor groaned like a banshee. The deformed man spun around, staggered, let out a sickly cry, and advanced on me.

His movements were awkward and unpredictable. I swayed from one foot to the other, trying to get a feel of my new body and be ready for his first attack.

You’ve got this, I told myself as he raised his sword to strike.

I leapt aside with ease, impressed by the immediate responsiveness of the game. Some systems took some time to strengthen the interface between you and the movement mechanics, but not this one. I moved exactly how I wanted, with precision, as I dived into a roll and came up behind him.

With no weapon, I simply struck out with my fists, driving two hard blows into his back. The impact felt perfect against my knuckles and a satisfying sound like steel on steel rang out. A blood-red set of italic letters burst into existence above the creature.

MASSIVE!

The gamer in me understood it as a critical hit, probably because I was attacking from behind. The two attacks removed a quarter or more of his health.

The Failed Experiment roared and spun around with a broad, carving slash from his rusty sword. But I was anticipating a retaliation, and leapt back as he attacked. The blade cut through the air harmlessly, and I drove my fist into his nose.

The block seemed to stagger him, which let me know the game actually took into account where you were landing your attacks, and I followed up with a blow to the gut. I hit him again, twice in the chest, before he was able to recover, bringing his health to below half.

Ha! This isn’t so hard, Mizaguchi!

I rolled out of the way of his next downward attack, and feeling creative, slammed a knife-hand into his side, causing him to double over. I followed up with a perfectly aimed uppercut to the jaw, and heard his teeth shatter against each other upon impact. His health was falling fast. By my estimation, three more normal blows would finish him off, and I hadn’t even taken a single hit.

He thrust forward and I dodged, pivoting on my right foot and using the momentum from my spin to drive an elbow into his lips. Blood sprayed and I brought a haymaker down against his chest and watched as a satisfying chunk of his health bar was torn away. Only a sliver remained.

I’ve got you, I thought triumphantly as I raised up my blade like an executioner’s axe for a finishing blow. But just as my attack was about to land, something horrible happened—

The man exploded like a cyst being squeezed between a pair of pliers, spraying tendrils of thick, purple-black slime into the air like a fetid fountain. All I could do was stare in awe as they congealed, forming muscular tentacles that clung to massive tumor-like growths that formed the body of something completely new—a horrifying beast with four legs and a monstrous skull with countless eyes all fixed on me.

Ravenous Beast—Level ???

My eyes went wide with terror as it let out a ground shattering roar like nothing I’d ever heard. It was like thousands of screams morphing into one and I staggered back in horror.

But before I could react—before I could even think, the beast pounced.

One raking strike from its claw was all it took. Pain howled from my chest, blood sprayed like water from a high-pressure faucet, and my health vanished. As the world began to fade to darkness, I was aware of the creature tearing at my corpse, ripping it from limb to limb, scattering pieces of my fallen body across the candlelit room.

Gothic red letters appeared in my vision as though taunting me.

DEATH TAKES YOU!