I regaled my friends of what had happened as we moved away from the area the portal had spat us out. They took what I told them with surprising stoicism. Though after what we’d just been through, none of it was hard to believe.

“So why didn’t you just find the damn recipe book?” Daz complained. “I’m supposed to be taking the young’un to McDonalds at one.”

“I’ve no idea what recipe book they were after. That’s’ why Daz. I was bluffing with the restaurant. Plus, did you see him? I’m ninety-nine percent certain the fucker was going to eat me whether I found the book or not.”

“Yeah, probably. He looked the type,” Daz muttered.

“Well, fuck that guy. It was him who got half eaten in the end. Wasn’t it boy,” Mal said, patting the Boris on the head. I found it funny that he had an Identifier tag above his head too. He was level nine unlike the others who were all level eight. I just assumed I was on level eight too, but I didn’t actually know.

“Hey, guys, what’s my level at?”

Mal was the first to answer. “Clive: level 4: Oaf.”

“What?” I half squeaked. The blows I’d taken to the head, combined with the hangover, were making it difficult to concentrate. I would’ve normally been able to tell he was taking the piss.

“It says, Level 8 human.” Joel said. “Though you have two circles that the others don’t have. One has a squiggly line running horizontally through it. The other has two squiggly lines crossing each other. What does mine say?”

“You’re at level 8, Joel. Seems we all are,” I said, relieved that I wasn’t at a level disadvantage.

“I think this means Boris is in charge.” Mal laughed.

“Maybe not,” Daz said. “Perhaps not all levels are created equal, so for all he’s level nine, he’s still a dog.”

“Thanks for the clarification, Daz,” Mal replied dryly pulling his phone from his pocket.

On seeing this, Joel and Daz did the same. I’d lost mine before even coming through the portal, though judging from their expressions, it wouldn’t matter.

“No signal, no nothing,” Mal sulked.

“Same,” Joel said. Though it’s hardly a surprise, he said tucking the phone back into his pocket.

After another half hour of walking, I couldn’t go one step further. Calling a halt, I let myself fall to the floor like a scarecrow without a pole.

The others sat close to me, no doubt just as overwrought with despair and exhaustion as me. It was a long time before anyone spoke.

“So what exactly are we doing?” Mal said. “The way I see it, we at least need a plan.”

“How do we plan?” Daz asked. “We’re in the middle of nowhere, with no idea where nowhere is.”

I was just so beat up, that no reply would leave my mouth. I just needed to close my eyes for a minute.

The next thing I knew, I was being shaken. Opening my eyes, I found Daz above me.

“You’re not supposed to sleep if you have a concussion,” he said firmly before letting go of my shoulders.

I groaned. My mouth drier than a camel’s hump in a sand storm. “I’m going to need to sleep though Daz. How long before I can?”

“Dunno, till the concussion is gone I suppose.”

I wasn’t convinced with his medical expertise. Even less so when he leaned forward and stared in my eyes.

“Close them for a few seconds,” he told me. I complied and when I opened them, he was still staring directly into my eyes, making me feel uncomfortable.

“I think you’re alright now,” he said with confidence.

“How in the hell do you know that?” Joel asked. “You trained as a doctor in private or something?”

“Saw it on tv,” Daz replied, far too confidently. “I just checked to see if the pupils reacted to the light, and they did. So I think he’s fine.”

“How long was I out?” I asked. I did actually feel a lot better.

“Five minutes,” Mal grunted.

Daz let out a yelp, falling backwards. “What the hell?” He shouted, eyes wide with fear.

“What’s wrong?” I asked urgently.

“Can you not see that box floating in front of me?”

“No,” we all chorused.

“It says…

Congratulations on discovering a new skill. Healing Touch: Level One:

At level one, you have developed the ability to recognise ten of the most popular afflictions. Continue to Level this skill, to advance affliction knowledge.

At Level one, you have developed the Ability to administer basic first aid.

We all looked at Daz, in both awe and doubt. He was known to be flamboyant with the facts on occasion.

“It’s like we’ve been transported into a game!” he added. He looked at me excitedly. “After sleeping those symbols on your tag had gone. I know what they meant now. The single horizontal line was a mild brain damage debuff. The two lines in a cross were the mild poison debuff. I’m thinking hangover and concussion.”

“That’s fucking awesome Daz. It should help with staying alive until we can get out of here,” I replied.

“Well, I hope we get fucking respawns, too,” Mal grumped.

“MAP!” Joel shouted, surprising us all. “Damn, it didn’t work,” he said glumly.

“Were you just trying to bring up a map?” I laughed.

“Sure, it was worth a try,” he said defensively.

“Yeah, it was. Just tickled me, that’s all.”

“Joel,” Mal, drawled. “If you were going to try to call something up out of thin air. Why did you choose a map and not a fucking portal home?”

Joel shook his head with mock despair. “Come on Mal. What game have you ever played where you can summon a portal straight away. That’s a high level skill!” he laughed.

“Then we need to level up quickly and learn how to do it,” Daz said. “I need to get back.”

I couldn’t help but smile at the easy camaraderie, even if it was in the form of bickering. I cleared my throat.

“Guys. I am sorry I brought you all into this, but I want you to know, you saved my life today, and I love you all for it. I don’t think this is a game, but we can clearly level and there’s some weird things going on, like Daz’s healing skill. We all know our way around an RPG, so what would we do in this environment if we were starting a new game?”

“On Valheim you’re dropped stark bollock naked into the wilderness,” Mal said. “Weapons, food and shelter. If you just head off like a daft arse, you don’t last long.”

“You’re right mate.” I said. “We’re stuck here for now, so number one priority has to be surviving,” I declared.

“Only problem is–there’s fuck all to survive in.” Mal replied. “Dust and rock. That’s it.”

“Then it has to be a start.” Joel said. “Let’s gather rocks together, and if we come up against any hostiles, we can stone them to death.”

“It’s hard enough just walking here. I’m not carrying a ton of fucking rocks with me too,” Daz complained.

“One in each pocket,” Joel said. “I’ve got…” he started patting himself down. “Seven pockets. It might give us half a chance.”

“I think it’s a great idea, mate,” I said. “Let’s collect them while we walk and look for somewhere more hospitable to hunker down for the night. A forest would be nice, and we desperately need water at the very least.”

We set off once more, scanning the horizon for changing landscapes and the ground for our arsenal of man powered projectiles.

I went to put a rock in my pocket, but it was already full. I pulled out the contents and rejoiced to find my pair of socks.

“Wait a minute, guys, I forgot I had no socks on. Now I know, I can’t think of anything else. I’m just going to put them on.”

“Stop!” Mal shouted. I looked at him confused. He had an excited gleam to his eyes. “Remember the film Scum? Ray Winstone?”

I knew instantly what he meant and grinned. It was a film about a young offenders’ institute. A brutal prison, really. The main character puts a pool ball in a sock as a weapon, and it is sublimely effective. I quickly put the rock into one of the socks. Looking back up to Mal, I quoted the film in question. “Who’s your daddy now!” and swung my new sock cosh around. A box appeared in my vision.

Congratulations on discovering a new skill. Weaponsmith: Level One:

At level one, you have developed the ability to construct basic makeshift weapons from the materials in your environment. Continue to Level this skill, to advance weapon complexity and material quality.

“Guys!” I said excitedly. “I’ve just gotten the Weaponsmith skill.”

Mal’s eyes widened. “It was my idea. Give me the other sock!”

“Fuck you! I’m putting it on. Use one of your own.”

“That’s the thanks I get answering a weird ass PS4 message to come and save your life?”

“You all saved my life, and I can’t split the sock in three, can I? It wouldn’t be fair.” I smirked as they all began removing one sock each. Mal shook his head in disappointment as he removed his own sock. “How long have we known each other?” he lamented.

We’d gone to infant school together. So since we were four-years old.

“Not long enough to give you my last sock,” I chuckled, and scanned the horizon once more.