They made it halfway across the meadow, aiming for a little stream they could see in the distance. Forest was just visible to the left, the trees dark and mysterious. Fred's innards tightened, as he looked at them. The forest had a distinctly wolfish look to them. As if on cue a long mournful howl cut through the air.

"Let's not go that way," said Fred.

"Agreed," said Joan. "Although I want to talk to those trees later."

"Talk to the trees?"

"I'm a Druid," she said, hurriedly. "Maybe I can learn something from them. What's your class?"

"Monk," said Fred. "Whatever that means."

"Makes sense," said Joan. "All that discipline and what-not. I mean – I imagine ballet takes a lot of discipline."

"That it does," said Fred. It was weird to think about plies and barre work as he strode through a meadow in what he was still partially convinced was a fever dream, with a bucket on his head. The part of him that thought it was real wondered if he should find a make-shift barre and knock out some repetitions to make himself feel better. But first, he needed that cup of tea and something to eat. And something to stop his leg hurting. The skin was red and inflamed with little black veins of black radiating out from the fang marks. As they walked the pain suddenly grew worse and a melodramatic bong echoed across the field.

[The Fredinator -1HP]

"Oh no," said Fred, staring at his leg with concern. "What's happening."

"We need to fix that," said Joan, staring at the wound, critically. "I didn't realise you'd been bitten. If you don't it will leech all your health points. Come on."

She wheeled him over to the gurgling stream and sat him down on the banks before disappeared back into the meadow.

"Be careful!" Fred yelled, belatedly, but two minutes later she reemerged safe and sound, carrying several leaves and a couple of mushrooms.

"Hold out your leg," she said. Fred did so, wincing at the pain. The leg was heavy and throbbing. He had a sudden panic, imagining losing his leg. Never being able to dance again, because of a ridiculous spider creature. Joan rinsed the bite out with cold water and then laid out the leaves on top of the puncture wounds, tying them on with long strips of thick plaited grass. The effect was instantly soothing, and Fred sat up, impressed.

"Yarrow and moneywort," she said, holding them up. "This should stop the bleeding and make it feel better."

[Joan of Snark: Herbalism +1; XP +1]

"Thank you!" he said, wiggling his toes. "That's amazing."

"It wouldn't work quite that well in the real world," said Joan, sitting back on her heels and examining her handiwork critically.

"I'm not complaining," said Fred. He admired his leg. The red was fading already. "The closest I've ever come to medieval herby witchery is putting dock leaves on a nettle sting. And gin. What are the mushrooms for?"

"To eat," Joan popped one in her mouth, chewing with relish. She handed him the other.

"Oh," said Fred, examining it with great suspicion. "Ta." He ate it because he was hungry and it tasted much as he had expected – earthy and rather disgusting. Still, food was food. They rested awhile and drank from the stream which was refreshing if not satisfying.

"Is your HP okay?" asked Joan. "You still have some left?"

"I think so," said Fred. "Um, how do I make it show me? The box thing? Oi? What do you call it? Stats! Show me my stats!"

There was a hum and the blue box appeared in front of Fred. He gazed up at it, squinting a little in the neon light.

The Fredinator Level 1

Class: Monk ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

XP: 7

HP: 10/11 [2 Bucket + 1 pair Flimsy Sandals + 1 Boring Boxers + 1 Ratty Trousers +1 Threadbare Shirt + 1 Teaspoon + 4 Spoon of Destiny]

Bonus: Condensed Milk

Quests: 1

"That looks okay," said Joan. "You have 10HP so you're not in any imminent danger."

"What's the Quest!" said Fred, excitedly clicking on the box. It zoomed open to show the words "Be Reincarnated". "Great," he said. "Very helpful."

"Mine says the same," said Joan.

"I know," said Fred, "In the office – the Prop Master or whoever he was – he said I could ask for help. So if it's a game – maybe there's a help menu?"

"Probably."

"Let's see," Fred closed his stats with a swipe. "Help!" he said. "I need some Help over here."

There was an orchestral flourish, ("Where is that music coming from?" asked Fred) and a large, leather-bound tome appeared, bathed in golden light and floating waist-high. Golden motes drifted through the air as the pages flickered open, shuffled themselves and came to a rest on an open page. The parchment glowed and Fred could see the book was filled with a flowing, dark brown script. A man's head appeared, disembodied, floating above the pages. He had drooping eyelids, rather a lot of freckles and seemed to be stifling a yawn.

"Did you need something?" he asked, in a flat, unfriendly voice.

"Yes," said Fred, relentlessly cheerful in the face of this rather bizarre apparition. He could practically smell the answers already. "We could do with some Help."

The book floated, bobbing up and down gently bathing the meadow in gold. The disembodied head stared at them blankly.

"Yes? Well, what is it?" the head said after a few moments.

"Err... well," said Fred. "What are we supposed to do." The head stared at them some more. Finally, he let out a mighty sigh and rolled its eyes.

"What are you supposed to do," repeated the head, sotto voce. "My God. In my day players were made of sterner stuff. More intelligent. Hardy. Ingenious. Took the initiative. In my day they weren't asking for Help every two seconds."

"This is the first time we've asked," said Joan.

"Fine," said the tome. "So what can I Help you with?"

"Well," said Fred, questions buzzing through his head. "I know the point is to get Reincarnated–"

"–obviously–"

"But, how do we do that?"

"You do it," said the head, slowly, enunciating each word with great exaggeration, "by getting to The End."

"The End?"

"The End."

"Right. And which way is the End?"

"I can't tell you that," said the head, affronted. "That would be cheating."

"Is there a map?" asked Joan.

"Oh yes, I can show you the map." The head disappeared and the pages flickered vigorously coming to a stop at a page full of darkness. Fred and Joan leaned forward, trying to make out the map.

"There's nothing there," said Fred.

"Yes, there is," said Joan, "look in that tiny corner..." Fred peered. The was a tiny section, an island in the sea of black ink marked with green ink and that horrible font "The Meadow of Beginnings."* There was a tiny illustration of a spider, a couple of trees and two "X"s with a dotted line following behind them next to a ribbon of blue.

"Is that us?" asked Fred. "Damn. Why can't we see the rest?"

"You have to explore," said the Head in haughty, and rather muffled tones. He popped out of the pages again with a squelching sound and leered down at them. "Can I go now?"

"So we just...find The End? That's it?"

"Well it's not that easy," said the tome. "There's levels and shit."

"Levels?" said Fred, levelly. "So how do we pass the levels?"

"XP," said the floating head, in unhelpful tones, which Fred thought was a little ironic.

"Okay..." said Fred, thinking quickly. "Can we die?"

"You are already dead."

"Yes I know, but here, now... we don't die?" The disembodied head yawned.

"Of course you can die," he said. "Otherwise everyone would be reincarnated. That would hardly be reasonable."

"So how?"

"When your HP hits zero." Fred and Joan exchanged glances.

"Okkkay," said Fred, feeling a little bit less sure of himself. He might have died once but he suddenly found that he didn't want to do it again.

"That's when you respawn."

"Oh, thank goodness," said Joan.

"That makes no sense," said Fred. "We can "respawn" but also die...I don't understand."

"Dungeon save me from the thick ones," muttered the head, shaking itself and turning its head, as if speaking to someone just out of view. "Yes, yes, I know. I know, yes, I know." He turned back with a bright, fake smile plastered across his face. "So things can "kill" you," he said through gritted teeth, his eyes wide, "and you will just respawn. At the last checkpoint, usually. If your HP drops to ZERO and you are killed, you respawn. Got it? You get ten respawns per level. See those little black hearts? You lose one to each respawn. Lose ten before you get to the next level – that's it. Done. You are, to put not too fine a point on it, DEAD. Forever. Never again to walk the green field's of earth."

"Wow," said Fred. "Like dead dead."

"Yes," drawled the head, imitating Fred's voice, "Like "dead dead." Your body is absorbed into the dungeon. To rest here forever providing entertainment and nourishment for those who will come after you."

Fred blanched. He poked the ground, which, like the spider and everything else did not look, or feel quite right. The consistency was just a bit off.

"That sounds dreadful."

"Gross," said Joan.

"The natural life cycle of the dungeon," said the head, smoothly, "is not gross. Nothing about it. Quite natural. For a dungeon." It considered for a moment. "Although the skeletons are revolting I'll give you that."

"Is that the only way we can die? Permanently?"

"Probably." No more information was forthcoming, despite a long pause.

"Okay, so how do we earn XP?" said Fred.

"You kill things. Not other players, usually."

"Usually?" said Joan, sharply.

"And you do things. You acquire skills which help you level up faster – through doing and skill books. And Quests."

"Okay."

"How do we get Quests?"

"You can ask me, or find them on notice boards. Ask around at taverns. Keep your ears open."

"Can you give us a quest now?" asked Joan. The head sighed, a long drawn out, long-suffering sigh. Then it affixed what was obviously supposed to be a cheery grin on his face and beamed at them. Instead of being welcoming it rather gave the impression that the head wanted to bite them, and Fred and Joan drew back a little.

"What do you want?" said the head.

"A cup of tea," said Fred, instantly.

"A bag," said Joan. "I really need a bag. I'm sick of carrying around this teaspoon."

"Fine," said the head. "Tis done. Can I go now?"

Fred checked his stats again. The quest box now read:

Quests: 2

Quest 1: Be Reincarnated

Quest 2: The Quest for Tea. Find a cup of tea and drink it.

Joan's read:

Quest 2: The Quest for Baggage. Acquire a shoulder bag.

"Great," she said, "thank you."

"So what would be the next best thing to do?" asked Fred. "Does it matter which order we do things? Where is the nearest checkpoint?"

"I don't know," said the head, highly offended. "Have you not read my cover?" Fred and Joan both shook their heads and the book groaned, before flipping closed. There on the giant brown leather, embossed in gold were the words "The Incomplete Guide to Some Things."

"Can I go now?"

"One last thing," said Fred, who could not dislodge the pallid vision of the naked man from his mind. "A little while ago we saw a man, running through the meadow with nothing on."

"Yes?"

"Well if our gear is tied to our stats? To our life on earth? Why was he naked? He was older than me?"

"Ah," said the head. "Well, the dungeon has strong opinions about life on earth, how people behave and what not. So people who are murderers, rapists, internet trolls, Chairmen of the HOA et cetera, they usually start naked."

"Oh, right," said Fred. "Good to know."

"Thank you," said Joan and the head disappeared in a sulky poof of smoke leaving them alone in the meadow once more.

*Please use your imaginations