“Identify is one of the most useful skills you can acquire, and is one that you should try and learn as soon as possible. At low levels it won’t give you much information, but what it can tell you is if you should run or not. Its sole purpose it to identify things the System defines as living entities, and analyse their level, habits, nature and abilities. If the level of the enemy is more than double yours, at least to begin with, then you’ll only see question marks. Two marks if it’s between level 10 and 99, three from 100 to 999 and so on. Now levels aren’t everything, and people beat opponents that are of a higher level all the time. But until you know what you’re doing, trust the question marks. You won’t be able to really understand what a high level enemy can do until you see it, but for now just stay clear of anything you can’t identify.”

~Taken from Samantha’s notes, written during System Lesson: Basic skills and you~

After two days, Marcus finally pulled himself out of his stupor. Retracting his roots and prying his feet out of the soil was like forcing himself out of a warm bed. Habits were a powerful thing, and were what he’d relied on in the past to get him going in the morning. But with no hot showers, no coffee or the ability to drink it and no morning cartoons, there wasn’t a lot to encourage him to start the day. It took more effort than he’d like to admit to get moving again, but he wasn’t going to find help if he just stood around.

A bit of time later, some stretching and some cold water thrown on his face for good measure, Marcus was ready to start the day.

“Right then, finding civilization, attempt number three. Let’s get to it.”

After so many days of walking, the small stream he’d been following had been joined by others, becoming larger until it was now a full river. Being a more major water source, the number of animal that came out to drink had increased as well. Now that he was less terrified they’d attack him on sight, he could actually appreciate the scenery around him. Rainbow coloured birds flew over head while all manner of small animal raced through the trees. Though, small was a relative term he’d begun to accept, stepping aside as a ferret the size of a greyhound moved past.

“Madness I swear. Wither I'm way smaller than I think, or this planets just huge.” He said, carefully stepping over a passing snake that looked like it belonged in a horror movie.

As he pondered, the first animal that didn’t seem to be oversized leapt from a nearby canopy and landed on his shoulder, making him shriek in surprise.

“No one saw that!” he shouted at the surround wildlife, who all politely said nothing about it. Turning his head, he saw a small brown squirrel pulling at the leaves on his shoulder, darting its head around as it looked for threats.

“Hey there little buddy,” he whispered, not wanting to startle it. “I got no food on me if that’s what you’re looking for. But feel free to stick around, it nice to see something normal looking.”

While the conversation wasn’t exactly stimulating being able to talk to something, instead of himself, was a great relief. Marcus wouldn’t call himself an extrovert, but it turned out he did like to be in a society. He also now had a greater appreciation for the effect pets had on people. As he walked the squirrel continued to clutch to his body, scampering around to keep out of sight as different animals passed nearby.

“So there we were, backpack full of hotdogs, David still tied to the front doors and the police were on their way... Sorry , enough about me, how about you? How’s squirrel life these days.” He asked happily, enjoying the conversation he was pretending to have.

-Requirements have been met. Basic skill ‘Identify” has been unlocked.-

He sighed. “And then there’s this guy, interrupting a perfectly friendly chat. Excuse me a moment, I should probably have a look at this.”

-Identify- Lvl 1- Gain information on target-

“Ah, it seems you’re my benefactor here, my squirrely little friend! Do you have a name? Shall we check?”

Through a combination of staring, squinting, covering one eye, pretending to have glasses, and general foolery, he managed to get it to work by just focusing and wanting to see the information.

-Datovian Brown Squirrel. Level: ???-

“Hmm, no name and the rest is a mystery, but still helpful I suppose. I get the brown part, So is Datovian your species or..?”

Looking around, he saw another one of the large stags he’s seen on his first day coming for water, sending everything else running for safety.

-Datovian Great Stag. Level: ????-

He gave a cheer, fist pumping in celebration. “HA! I knew it! Its Jalamian as well! So is that the area we’re in or the world? Do you know Mr. Squeaks? That’s your new name by the way squirrel; feel free to tell me to changes it. Now will identify me as Datovian as well, since I was technically born here? Or can I check the planet itself?

Staring at his had he tried to identify himself, but it just ended up opening his character sheet, the thoughts involved being the same. The planet worked fine though.

-Great World Datov. Level: ???????-

He nodded to himself, happy to be proven right, and began making notes, drawing in the dirt.

“Okay so the planet is called Datov, good to know that worked. That’ll give me a point to map from if I can get some kind of distress signal going. Apparently it’s a ‘Great world’ as well, so maybe will know it better and can come find me? Ah, hope springs eternal. Why didn’t I go to more of those survival things with dad? For once in my life that stuff would prove useful.”

Back when Marcus still lived with his parents, his dad had gone through a phase where, as the media kept hyping up the threat of looming war, had almost gone full doomsday prepper. They’d stockpiled canned and dried goods, invested in solar panels for when oil ran out (a good investment) and several inflatable boats in case the water level suddenly rose (a terrible one). His dad had also gone to numerous first aid courses, survival training and even some self defence classes. Marcus had only attended one or two, but now wished he’d studied them religiously, and hoped the information was helping his family now.

The fear of oncoming war had been the original reason for the den at home, a ‘need’ for a bomb shelter. It was only when their neighbour, Mr. Lincoln, explained to him that the next time war broke out for real, any bomb shelter not half a mile underground with an farm inside, would be as useful as hiding under your desk. That particular statement had him cancel several pallets of rebar and concrete, and replace them with kegs and a wine rack.

He remembered how to start a fire, but hadn’t felt cold and didn’t need to cook anything so it that wasn’t useful. Ways to filter or boil water fell into the same category. The lesson about what to do if lost at sea... he’d walked into the middle of the river and the water level only came up to his shoulder so not a lot of fear there. He did notice he was pretty buoyant, like all good lumps of wood should be, but he kept spinning about whenever he bumped a rock.

At least Marcus hoped they were rocks. He’d seen more than a few animals come to take a drink, only to be pulled into the water by things that would give Jaws a run for its money.

He was broken from his reverie by the squirrel beginning to tear and twist some of his small braches, apparently having decided he would make a suitable place to live.

“What’s that Mr. Squeaks? Why yes, I do have more to my plan. People build by water, it’s pretty much a necessity. And eventually this river is going to hit either a lake, or the ocean, which is my best bet for finding someone else. Even if it’s just a little village or something. Hell I’d settle for someone’s surf shack, just some kind of development I can use to get my bearings.

From there, it’ll be either build a big old help sign, or build a radio to call for help... you’re right, help sign it is.”

The squirrel continued to sit on his shoulder, chittering quietly as he crossed things out in the dirt, his hand slowing to a stop.

Marcus began speaking slower emotion leaking out of his voice. “I think I'm losing it Mr. Squeaks. I’ve been trying to hold it together, the old ‘fake it til you make it’ trick, but I'm not that strong a person. I'm a follower more than a leader, and there’s no here to help me figure this out. And I'm becoming more and more confident that there’s no one else on this world at all.

“Maybe I'm wrong, maybe I’ll find the capital city of this whole world right around the next bend. But there’s been nothing. No planes in the sky, no cut trees, no traces of anything. All I'm asking for is a single sign, a bit of garbage in the water, maybe an old carved stone. I don't think I'm going to find anyone no matter how far I walk, and I'm getting tired.”

Marcus sat there for over an hour as he just starred at the word ‘help’ written in the dirt in front of him, his mind turning over and over. At one point the Stag he’d identified had come over and taken a bite of his leaves, but he didn’t even react, not even when the squirrel ran across his face to escape the terrible predator. Eventually he slowly began to move, raising one hand up.

*Smack*

Slapping himself across the face, he knocked himself out of train of thoughts he’d become locked in, forcing the thoughts and emotions away. Shaking himself awake he forced himself to walk, using the act of moving to try and trick his brain into thinking he had somewhere to go.

“Ok, come on Marcus, you can do this. Find the people that are definitely at the little lakeside town just a few hours from here. Ask them for a lift to where humanity has settled down, go there and ask where Smalls and the folks are. Simple enough, just a few more hours and everything will be fine. Isn’t that right Mr. Squeaks?” he said, turning to the squirrel that had begun trying to make a nest on his shoulder.

He’d turned just in time to watch as a previously unnoticed hawk-like bird swooped down and snatched the squirrel before it could move, only having time for very short cry of panic.

“MR. SQUEAKS NOOOOOO!” Marcus cried as he watched the bird fly away to eat.

Having a momentary spark of anger, he thought about setting out and trying to seek vengeance for his furry comrade. His new quest was interrupted though when another squirrel, a grey one the time, began climbing his leg and continued working on the nest.

Marcus’s thoughts ground to a halt for a moment, before giving up on the idea entirely.

“Well,” he said in hoarse bemusement. “Maybe we should keep an eye on the sky a bit more, aye Mr. Squeaks the second?”

And so he set off again, trekking along the river’s edge towards what he hoped would be the answers he needed. And by the time he and Mr. Squeaks the seventh had decided to walk further under the tree line instead of the open, Marcus’s spirits had began to rise back up.