The pain in my body was gone, immediately after my senses were taken away to another place. I was hearing birds chirp, there were no longer the city noises of Saint Petersburg I was so used to. Instead, before my very eyes, shifting from hazy to firm and sharp, was a floating image of myself. Well, not exactly myself. My avatar, to be more precise. I was no longer wearing the apron and jeans covered in blood, but was instead wearing a basic linen tunic, with a matching pair of incredibly itchy pants. Somehow or other, I could feel everything. Was it due to the neural mapping, or some other amazing advent in technology? I would figure that out later. I knew VGO was an intense and all-encompassing VRMMO, but I didn’t expect it to feel like the real world. It was pretty clear that this was going to be a very real experience, if the wet seeping through the thin cloth shoes I was wearing was any indication. I didn’t have any experience playing video games back on Earth, but I imagined that this would be the absolute height of them. Being directly inserted into a game world, where literally anything is possible. I felt fear, and excitement in even waves.

I noticed a couple options floating about in my vision, but the one that caught my eye most was “Race.” I focused on it, and down popped a series of options. Almost like clockwork, the dropdown menu expanded and hovered, shifting as I turned my head, hanging about like a sticky-note. Each race sounded really entertaining and exceptionally well thought out, like the dark-skinned Dokkalafar, or Murk Elves that lived in the Storme Marshes. The Svartalfar, Dwarf-like hardy people with a penchant for development. I lingered on the Dwarves for a moment, considering the potential of it all, giving myself a leg up on the development of the world of Viridian Gate Online may not be a bad idea. After a moment, though, I decided I needed a change, and it needed to be big, so I continued to look.

The Accipiter, winged people of the deserts, with their dextrous ways and their feathery skin. The Risi, massive, muscle-bound brutes with green tinged skin and severe underbites, with protruding fangs. I lingered on Wode, the most human looking of the races, and detailed as the most versatile. They were described as the most numerous of the races in Eldgard, the world in which VGO took place. I considered to myself the option of being a Wode. It would allow me to become almost everything I was on Earth. I closed my eyes, the world going black if only for a moment, before deciding to do something different. I had already spent 43 years of my life as a human, and it wasn’t exactly everything I had ever wanted. My life was punctuated throughout with the human gods: communism, greed, and hatred. The Man took everything that I produced, and returned a mere tenth. It dug its claws into my life, and never let go. Then, when I needed it most, it turned its back on me and my wife, and let her die. No, hell no. I wouldn’t do that again. There was an Imperial alternative to the Wode, which boasted the same stats, but didn’t appeal to me in any way.

One of the races mentioned something about having a relatively free lifestyle. I scrolled through the races again, and my eyes lingered on Hvitalfar, the Dawn Elves. They were of the Shining Plains. The race was appealing, having a natural affinity for magic of all kinds, with a bonus to their starting Spirit of 5%. There was a certain kinship I felt with the ideals of the Dawn Elves, although nobody in Russia, or anywhere else, knew I loved plants and animals. I wanted to keep it that way. And if I was going to play a Fantasy game, why not be a powerful sorcerer? After all, if I had the opportunity to directly change my life, that sounded like a great way to go. I chose them as my race, and adjusted a couple of features. I made myself roughly the same height, weight, and age as on earth. I gave myself hair, which I wasn’t blessed with at the end of my Earth life. I made it a glorious sheet of fine silver, running to the middle of my back. It was incredible. Finally, I came to my name. This caused me great pause, considering my name in the real world had weight. But that was the past, that was the old Vlad. This would be a new start, a new beginning, where I would start with nothing. Absolutely nothing.

A few names kicked around in my head for a while, and I used the random name generator once or twice, getting shockingly difficult to pronounce names. That may have been my Russian Heritage slipping in, but I couldn’t think of how I would get around living as “Artlerinart.” I would be a better version of myself here, in this world, than I was on Earth. Ultimately, I decided to just be Vlad, unapologetic and unwavering. I wouldn’t stand for injustice, I would refuse to stand aside as people were taken advantage of. That was the old Vlad. Ina had told me once, years ago, that I needed to be “More of a warrior for Justice.” Well, here was my chance. I had laid down long enough, letting people be stepped on in the name of “progress,” or “the government.” I finalized my name, and all of the dropdown menus disappeared. I stood in the absolute darkness for a moment, turning my head, looking for any kinds of clues as to what would happen. I was just about to say something about a log-in bug when everything exploded around me. I was suddenly engulfed in the music of the renaissance, blazing through the air. The Lute and Lyre were intensely played, the music feverish. The score was overwhelming, it set the stage for something huge. I stood expectant as the words began, thunderous to my ears.

“The year is 1095 A.I.C. - Anno Imperium Conditae,” the voice began, crisp over the music. “Dark Power and the stirrings of war ride upon the winds of Eldgard, the provincial outpost of the Great Viridian Empire.” I was standing at the precipice of a huge mountain range, and below me was an enormous forest. There were fires burning everywhere, the sounds of war rang through the air. I watched what could only be described as ballistae bolts, enormous and burning, explode against what I assumed were magic shields, half-orbs of glowing light covering eternally-extending lines of soldiers. Truly this world was fantastical.

“Imperial Legions, allied with the forces of light, march from the East, bringing the natives of Eldgard to their knees through flame, magic and steel.” I was whipped into the air against my will, suddenly watching a small village change shape as the announcer continued. “Bringing progress. Building roads. Cities. A kingdom.” The village went through numerous iterations before finally becoming a massive fortress, surrounded by a sprawling city, uncountable droves of people scurried about their lives within the walls. I was carried further yet into the air, now I had a bird’s eye view of the continent of Eldgard. “Civilizing the dark-natured Wodes, the swap-dwelling Dokkalfar, and the Accipiter of the far-western deserts, enlightening them in the ways of the ever-victorious empire.” There were hundreds of tactical lines drawn as they spread forth from the initial army, the locations outlined on the map changing color from a neutral grey to the deep azure of the Viridian Empire. The sounds of battle, clanging metal, marching feet, rippling banners, carried to my ears as the lines moved.

“But the natives of Eldgard are not so quick to give up the old ways - to heel for foreign masters. Though the rebellion is yet small, they fight on. Hour by hour, day by day …” I watched as semi-translucent images of the various races at work, making equipment, forging armor, healing wounded, doing battle, expanded and shrank in my peripherals against the encroaching blue. Some lines halted, dead-ending in an “X,” where the war front had stalled. Others were beaten back, a few of the blue areas changing back to grey.

“However, in the far flung North, another threat looms.” The announcer’s voice was tinged with darkness. I had never been so engrossed, or intrigued, by a video-game intro in my life. This was extremely intense, and must have taken an enormous amount of resources to make it work out. With an instantaneous sensation of moving, the world around me shifted, and I was standing in the snow of an unknowably high mountain. The cold was so intense, I almost thought I was back home in January.

“The reclusive, mountain-dwelling Svartalfar have unwittingly burrowed into the prison of a dusty and long forgotten god. A truly heinous being of absolute darkness, eager to return to the land of mortals once more. The breach is a small thing, but large enough for Serth-Rog, Daemon Prince of Morsheim, to call acolytes to his cause...Imperial. Rebel. Light. Dark. Living. Dead. Which side will you choose?” I was thrown from the ledge of the mountain as a dark power exploded from the top, a gathering inky-black mist coalescing into the shape of a great winged beast with soul-seeking green eyes. I continued to flip through the air, my body careening to the South. As I flailed through the air, feeling incredibly sick, I caught the eyes staring at me. I could have sworn they were smiling, watching as I flew like a leaf in the wind. My head struck something rough, solid, likely stone of some kind. My body flopped about as I rolled to a stop. Everything was pain, suddenly and swiftly like a torrent of agony. My mind refused to cooperate for a solid moment, but when I came to, the strong scent of grass and mountain air filled my lungs.

“This game,” I said, as I coughed chunks of dirt and grass from my mouth. “This game is going to be death of Vlad, I think.” I stood slowly, gathering my wits. The sun was beginning to reach the sky’s peak. “Is almost noon.” I had to stop myself from talking to myself, eventually. Everything sounded broken. Was the game forcing me to speak English? “Derr’mo.” I tested. Nope, I could still swear in Russian. Maybe it was a language-filter feature? Being forced to speak English without thinking was an inconvenience at best, but it didn’t matter. I was standing on a mountain hill, the forest stretching out before me, the same one I had seen in the opening video. It was different, there had been considerable changes. Age, maybe, or perhaps trees were removed and destroyed? It didn’t matter, it was the same forest. I thought.

I took in my surroundings, but not for too long, because there was a punguent smell in the air. Acrid, almost…

“Something is burning.” I looked around, trying to pinpoint the location of the fire. I noticed a small clearing with a couple simple fires. There were dozens of figures running around like crazy, all in a, mostly, single direction. It was a village, it was on fire, and I was not going to stand idly by this time. But how would I get down there? As though my question was answered for me, I noticed a very steep trail heading down the edge of the cliff. It was a treacherous climb, and it would take a considerable effort, but I was hoping my new body would be able to handle it. I turned about for a moment and saw a single figure, clear as day, with long wavy auburn hair, raising a sword and waving to a group of villagers. Her features were so radically familiar, I felt a stab of pain in my heart.

“Ina!” I shouted, half mad in my sudden craze to reach her, to see her one last time, to feel her in my arms. I started the long, treacherous climb down the slope, but lost my footing at the half-way mark. I rolled down the rest of the way, watching the world spin completely out of control. One moment, I was watching the sun rapidly soar towards the horizon, and the next I was eating a solid chunk of stone. It took everything in me not to scream the entire way down, as I bounced and struck rocks and small trees. At one point, I slammed into a large pine tree. I felt the bones in my chest crunch and collapse as I careened to the side. A number of red notifications flew up in my face, but I was moving too fast to pay attention to them. I finally reached the bottom of the mountain, skidding to a stop in the grass, my chest burning, by arms and legs throbbing in agony. I was covered in injuries, there were a few small notifiers in the top of my vision that were blinking frantically, the ones I hadn’t been able to read on my way down the mountain.. My right arm was completely limp, and my God did everything hurt!

>>>

Debuffs Added

Fractured Arm: You cannot use your right arm and cannot cast mage spells that require hand gestures; duration: 2 minutes.

Cracked Ribs: Your breathing is impaired and your cracked ribs are causing you pain; Stamina Regeneration reduced by 20%; duration: 2 minutes.

Concussed: You have sustained a severe head injury! Confusion and disorientation; duration: 1 minute.

>>>

There was a red flashing bar in the corner of my vision, evidently my Health Points. They were at less than 10%, that was an incredibly long fall. “Remind me to yell at the Development team when I find one of them, b’lyad.” I stood, slowly, agonizing pain in all of my joints. I leaned backwards and popped my back. “Vlad needs break already, only been here ten minute and already fell from sky. Idiot developers make realism hurt like being hit by truck on highway. Not even small truck.”