Old man made me look at my life:

“Fartknocker!” Well, that didn’t work. “’Gaping kumquats!” Hell, that didn’t work either? I have no idea if this trip was freaky or just weird. Now every time I tried to say a fucking swear word, some other bullshit would end up coming out of my mouth. Oh, and the other weird thing was the old guy sitting in the middle of the room. Not to mention someone defaced the cave with “art” or something. There’s a carving of an egyptian eye looking thing next to where this guy was sitting. I can’t swear and I’m in some cave with Methuselah, is this supposed to be a metaphor for something?

I’ll grant my unexpected company one thing: he was a zen ass mofo. My incoherent ranting apparently didn’t phase the old fart. Is this a part of his “normal” day? Chillin’ in some cave, just to have a guy walk up on you and start screaming random words for 15 minutes? Ok, maybe he’s from Portland, those guys do like to keep it weird as fuck. Maybe this guy actually was the anchor, also known as the “designated driver” for the trip? Ya, that would make more sense than anything. Maybe I did a bunch of San Pedro cactus, and this guy thinks I haven’t come down yet? I need to just stick to the Ganja for a while I think. In fact, whenever I get home, I should flush that eighth of Cubensis Shrooms I left in my sock drawer.

Shaking myself out of my introspection, I looked down at the anchor. Fucker hadn’t said a thing since I woke up, just kept humming some little ditty that I couldn’t quite place. I changed my expression to my best “what now mofo?!” glare, thinking maybe if I looked pissed off, the old fart would say something to calm me down. I’m way more confused and frustrated than mad. But, I wanted to get some kind of reaction, and if my luck turns around, get him to stop humming that incessant tune too. I glared at the old guy, which made me squint slightly. I was really trying to get his attention with my best “I want to speak to your manager” expression. As I squinted, something came into view. I could barely make it out, but there’s more of that weird floating text crap. It looked like the others, but this one was way smaller and made no sense. What the hell is “;Patron=Null !exception” supposed to mean?

I guess the old guy sensed that this was a good time for him to say something to the crazy person in the room. “Hello traveler. You have an arduous journey ahead of you. At least, if you wish to reach civilization. You should take these supplies for your trip.” He pulled something off his shoulder and was now holding a satchel with a single shoulder strap. He was seemingly offering it to me, but I wasn’t sure. The bag looked homemade, or as hippies call it “hand-spun”, possibly made from hemp. Wait a minute!... Hemp bags and itchy pants. Yep, I’m tripping on a commune somewhere in New Mexico. That has to be it! Ok, if I’m on a mescaline trip, what’s been real and what hasn’t? I guess all that other shit had to be a figment. The more I think about it, things make more sense. I was definitely tripping balls with some hippies in New Mexico… somehow.

Instead of taking the proffered bag, I just asked, “where am I? and why am I waking up in a frogging cave?” The old guy didn’t answer. It’s kind of creepy, the way his expression doesn’t change. I am not sure when he last blinked either. First, I tried waving my hand in front of his face to see if he reacted. That didn’t work, so I considered punching him in the nose. I am really not into violence, but I wasn’t above it in this case. My idea was short-lived, and I gave up on the idea of smacking him. Rude and annoying or not, there’s probably a karmic toll for beating on the geriatric. Besides, I think this guy might have had a little too much fun at some point and got permafried. Although, if so, why the hell was he the anchor? Or was the geezer a hallucination, too? Dammit, I need some weed if I am going to have to get all philosophical and shit. Questions like “what is reality?” Are best discussed with a good sativa, or an introspective hybrid while chilling in a garage or basement. Really pretty much any place besides a humid cave in New Mexico.

I didn’t take the sack, and I suppose the calisthenics exercise was starting to be a bit much. The old fogey said; “I see you seek information. Once you’ve gathered preparations for your journey, I will teach you what you must know.” Okay, so apparently this guy wasn’t totally oblivious. He was just being a freaking dick. “I’m guessing your name is Richard? So, Richard, why don’t you tell me where the fart I am?” Once again the old guy replied with the same line about preparations. Damn, this guy sure was single-minded.

I needed him to either shut up or say something useful. So, I finally took the satchel. It was rough and just as scratchy as it had initially looked. The damn thing was heavier than I would have suspected, even though Richard the ancient wasn’t having any trouble at all holding the bag out in front of him for the last several minutes. I guess that made sense. This has to be some sort of commune, and usually folks that live on them stay in pretty damn good shape.

Once I had adjusted the pack and it was relatively secure, I leaned up against the eyeball inscription and asked “okay Richard, what is goi-” Before I could repeat my request I was interrupted by a much larger set of floating words, this time they had a light semi-translucent blue background. Holy shit! How am I dreaming up any of this, and what’s it supposed to mean? The apparition was so huge that I could barely see around it. I tried to dislodge it from my view by moving my head around but, it just continued to block my vision moving along with me. It read:

Skill “General Identification” Granted

This skill allows the user to acquire general information on common level inanimate objects and MoBs. At higher skill levels, information can be acquired on higher rarity living creatures and objects.

“Look at that. You’ve just gotten the most basic, fundamental skill of your species that everyone gets. W00T!”

Ok, so now I am hallucinating old people and snarky messages from the universe. Yup, mescaline alright. I really need to just stick to the herb from now on.

Either enough time had passed or because I had read the last line, the text gently faded into full transparency. Great, I’m having some sort of trip where I’m living some shitty game scenario. There goes the commune idea. That would have made way more sense than this trip getting any weirder. Whenever I wake up, I need to ask Richard what the hell he put on that weed. Anyone who knows me well would agree, I love my reefer. But, I might try almost anything if I’m in the mood. New entheogenic experiences are kind of my frontier of exploration. Although, some highs are best experienced once and left alone, like ketamine. Whatever the hell this was, it was going at the top of that list in my book.

Apparently, old man Richard has something else to say. “Congratulations! As a human, you start off with the skill ‘General Identification’. Humans are the physical embodiment of extreme curiosity, displaying an undeniable urge to know and classify everything they can perceive. The desire for knowledge has been a driving force since humankind's beginning, and as a human this skill is now yours as well.” Okay, so now my trips taking a philosophical turn? Boy, my subconscious must be fun if this is the crap I come up with. Resigned, I accepted I wasn’t going to find any Durban Poison or Blue Dream to make this easier.

This whole scenario was about as weird as some of the dreams I had in high school. Thankfully, not nearly as weird as the dreams I’ve had after drinking tequila, though. Actually, if this is New Mexico, did I have mescaline and tequila yesterday? Meh, either way maybe if I just do whatever the hell I’m told, eventually I will wake up. Isn’t that how some dreams work? I sure hope so, otherwise ol’ Richard here might not be the only one who’s permafried.

I sat down before I could continue to question myself. Richard the ancient just nodded and held up one finger as he said, “first open your status menu. Much like using any skill, you need only call for it. Vocalizing the skill can help at early levels, but the key is to focus on your intent. Now close your eyes and say ‘character sheet’ while you will yourself to manifest your current status.” I shook my head in disbelief, considering to myself if this was a personal interpretation of some kind of hippie commune ritual.

Grimacing and trying not to think of how much of an idiot I must look like, I followed my instructions. Closing my eyes, I started thinking of what a status sheet from S&S looked like. Despite not having played in years, I could apparently remember the format quite easily.

Holy shit! Old man Richard wasn’t talking out of his ass! White text with a semi-translucent blue background appeared before me. It was another one of those text block things, like when I learned “General Identification”. It looked like what I could recall of an S&S character sheet except for being extremely abbreviated. Unlike a full character sheet, I just got a list of a few traits and their values.

Billy E.

STR 5

Carry weight and some weapon damage.

VIT 5

Effects HP and stamina recovery

INT 5

Mana recovery and experience gain.

CHR 5

Speech skill, effects sale prices and appeal.

DEX 5

Affects your ability to make subtle physical changes.

HIDDEN TRAITS

OBFUSCATED

HP 120/120

MP 5/5

Human

Level 0

Class Unavailable

Class Unavailable

Once I opened my eyes to my status sheet, I couldn’t see old Richard anymore. I could barely make out just his silhouette through this giant window prompt! Although, apparently I could hear him well enough when he said “well done! Opening your status sheet is one of the easiest skills to master. But remember, all skills can atrophy if left without practice long enough.” “Yeah old man? I beg to differ. What about riding a bicycle?” He didn’t even seem to register my jab and just continued, “as a human, you’re initially granted Five Points in most major traits. Humans have moderate starting abilities and a lower trait cap than some species. But, they have no innate weaknesses, such as elemental susceptibilities and demonstrate increased skill training proficiency.

Each of your traits has a basic explanation outlined to the right. For further information, consult your player’s manual.” “My what now?” Dude gave me a sack, not a guidebook. He was still pretty hard to see, but I think Richard the grey-bearded nodded. “Correct. You can find more information in your player’s manual.” I thought to myself: “Okay, so this guy does know how to have a conversation. Just only when he wants to. Damn, bastard is really earning the title of Richard. Resigned, I started to ask about what hidden traits are and what obfuscated meant. Then I saw one detail I hadn’t noticed. My name at the top of the page, not that fucking moniker “Mother-may-I!” I shouted, “My name isn’t bloated farting, Billy! I’m Robert, I’ll even take Robbie! Rob! Just not Billy, darn it!” My shouts of annoyance apparently didn’t phase Richard the geriatric asshat. Guy’s really friggin’ helpful. I sighed and continued to look at my newly manifested sheet. Towards the bottom, there were four little notches. They kind of look like caps or tabs for folders or maybe index cards.

Status

Skills

Social

Notifications

As if the old guy knew what I was seeing, he said that I “should explore the other pages of my character sheet. Especially the notifications tab.” Notifications? Fuck that! I immediately tried to open the social menu. I wish I could say it surprised me to find everything was blank.

Despite my low expectations, my frustration was reaching a new level. Reminding myself that I am trying a new approach, to “go with the flow” I tamped down my building annoyance and instead looked at my other options. I decided to put off opening the notifications and instead went to my skills tab. The only thing listed was the “General Identification” ability or spell or whatever it was supposed to be.

Barely able to contain myself, I let out an audible groan of frustration and considered asking about the social tab. Considering how Richard has been “just so helpful” so far, I figured I’d just do what he said and look at my notifications menu. Oh yay, yet another sheet of data. At least this one is brief too:

No new notifications.

Would you like to:

1. Check your previous notifications.

2. Change your notification and alert settings.

3. Set up a new type of notification.

My task was now completed, and I addressed the cave’s only other occupant. “All right, you fried turkey nugget. I did it, what now?!“ The old guy paused for a minute before speaking. “You have completed stage 1 of the tutorial.” He then raised a second finger on the hand he already had outstretched and said. “For the second and final stage of the tutorial, you should acquaint yourself with the feeling of your new avatar. Once you have satisfied any one of your avatar’s 3 primary needs, hunger, hydration, and urination/defecation, the path will open for you to continue your journey.”

Now this sounded like a good idea! I really had to take a piss… “Hey buddy, how am I supposed to close this menu?” I asked. “Close your eyes and will it away, just as you summoned it.” Okay great more of this hippy-dippy nonsense. But, the last Hippie exercise old man Richard had me do did produce something, even if it didn’t make sense. I attempted to do as I was advised and closed my eyes. I started thinking of the status sheet rolling up like a piece of paper and going in my pocket. When I opened my eyes again, I shouldn’t have been surprised to see that the visualization worked. The stupid blue screen was gone!

I nodded curtly at the fossil formerly known as Richard, before I stood up and brushed the sand off my ass. I considered going back to the room I was just in, but now more than ever, I really had to pee. The sound of trickling water from that spring wasn’t going to do me any favors in that regard. Well, if this is my next objective too, then I guess there’s no time like the present to. I had barely turned around and was preparing to write my name on the wall behind me when I heard Richard's coughing. I ebbed the flow that was I was preparing to unleash and looked over my shoulder to find Richard gesturing toward another alcove I hadn’t noticed.

With a shrug, I returned my pants to my normal position and went in the direction he was indicating. To my extreme surprise, jutting out of a stone wall was an obvious makeshift toilet. It was rather ingenious. It seemed to use another natural spring coming out of the wall to flush the lavatory. This made as much sense as anything else so far, and more importantly, I was now afforded a chance to properly relieve myself.

I didn’t realize that I had to pee that badly. The feeling was nothing short of pure ecstasy. I swear I don’t know how, but emptying my bladder was amazing. It felt better than most of the sexual encounters I’ve ever experienced. I suppose that was a reason I didn’t notice when my ankles started getting wet. For a moment I thought the weird, wet sensation I felt back a Doctor’s Z’s was coming back. Or that I somehow had lost focus and let go all over my ankles. I interrupted my brief introspections as I quickly realized that it was a cold wet sensation, damn cold too.

Looking down as I repositioned my pants, I could barely make out the rising water. It was so clear you could hardly tell it was there, but as I looked back, I could see the reflection of the light ahead of me glimmering across it. Now that I saw the cave’s light source, I guessed it must be the exit.

Water was steadily rising up the slightly sloped path I had come from. I debated going back for old Richard but quickly dismissed the idea. If the guy was so fried that he didn’t know how or that he should get out of a flooding cave, then he was beyond my help. I had started to leave, and could barely see the cave opening before I stopped. I felt a small twinge of guilt and precaution. If that old fart was real, would I get in legal trouble for abandoning him in a flooded cave if anyone found out? Dammit, the last thing I need right now are involuntary manslaughter charges. I went back down to go around the alcove, ignoring the cold as the water continued to rise. I had barely poked my head around the corner to yell something along the lines of “Hey, if you’re not into swimming, I’d bail pronto.” But, as I scanned for where the old man was sitting just a moment ago, I couldn’t see him. All I could see was the water rising even quicker. Unless I wanted hypothermia, I needed to leave, and hopefully find people. Or even better, find a damn joint and some pants that didn’t itch.