"Benjamin Quayle."

They pronounced my name the way an acquaintance might after having just attended a gossip circle where my sexual exploits were discussed in numerical detail. It was more than a little infuriating. And was that… clapping?

"Well done. Well done. Are you having fun?"

The voice brought me to a sitting position faster than I could have on my own. Beside me, Large Bird’s tantalizingly roasted flesh was spoiled by the accusatory stare of its bulging eye. I could feel my stomach churning, ready to say something.

Grrnn—

“No,” I told it, then craned my neck to the sky. I felt like Russell Crowe in the colosseum, throwing his arms in the air and asking that famous question to the wealthy patrons paying for bloodsport.

"Regardless, I must say you’ve been putting on quite a show for us. That trick with the fire was a neat moment, and with the rain pouring down on you, and your passion… do keep it up."

I choked on a reply. Part of me still wasn’t convinced any of this was even real. “What do you want?” I managed to say.

"I want you to live. I have quite a lot riding on this."

The voice said those words as if nothing could be more obvious. “Yeah?” I asked, tired of their vague dance around anything remotely helpful. “Gimme something, then. Gimme some bitchin’ spells or the ability to fly or invincibility. You want me to live? Then let me live.”

"I did have a surprise for you, but if that’s how you feel I’m afraid it’s going to be a disappointment. You’ve been on Killjoy Island for just over twenty one hours now, and it’s bending the rules ever so slightly, but your performance against Large Bird has earned you some time shaved off."

Title Removed

- Newcomer -

Your first day is up. The hardest part is just beginning, but you can count yourself among one of the many official players of the island. Woo.

Title Received

- Hunter -

Your time on the Island has shown us your skills in slaying your quarry. Don’t let the edge get to your head. Your new title grants benefits based on your skillset. Touch an Anchor to activate your new title.

The prompts came in quick succession, one uncomfortable ping after another. It was as if my skull had been set to vibrate.

"Your new title was selected out of three we award full-fledged players based on the choices they make in their first twenty four hours. Your performance was of the hunter. Do you have any objections to this choice?"

I shrugged. “Are you going to tell me more about where I am? What I’m meant to be doing?” I said, knowing full well what the answer was before it was given.

"That would spoil the experience, I’m afraid. For a greater understanding of what you can do, you should touch the Anchor. After that you should find a high point and get a better view of our island. It’s breathtaking.

And as always, Happy Dying."

Breathtaking. The word was pronounced the way someone might say it on a low budget vacation commercial. Breathtaking, my ass.

The voice didn’t return after that but it didn’t matter. I wasn’t going to get any useful information other than riddles and vague misdirection out of them. Him. Her. Whoever.

The standing stone—Anchor, as they called it—stood out of the earth like a Christmas tree, if the lights and ornaments were glyphs and the gifts were instead the promise of stats and numbers. I licked my lips at it.

I flattened my palm against the glassy stone, fully prepared to be thrown through the air. Instead, my vision darkened. The gentle crashing of waves faded only to be replaced by a soft hum, barely audible. A cacophony of voices resounded from deep within the Anchor, barely above whispers and too many at once to make out what they were saying.

Slowly my mind focused on the words and numbers that were appearing. They weren’t there in a literal sense. It was in my mind, like a thought given to me.

Benjamin Quayle Vitality (16%) Favour (5) Sanity (64%) Bleeding, Exhaustion I Hunter Minor Break Endurance (1/4) Willpower (2/4) Constitution (20%) Fortitude (100%) Noxious Gas None Level 1 Level 1

Whoa. I pulled my hand away. Instantly the stats faded and my vision returned. I looked around, but not spotting any danger I warily placed my hand back.

There was so much I didn’t understand.

Aside from the obvious questions (who made this? How was this real? What even was this?), I had some mechanics I wanted explained.

Thinking about “Titles”, more information appeared.

Your titles will be catalogued here as you acquire them. Titles offer passive benefits and can be viewed by other players as a measure of your skillset. Currently, you can only have (1) active title at a time. You can only switch titles at an Anchor. You may increase your active titles capacity as you progress through the game.

Active (1/1) Inactive (1) Hunter Newcomer

Next, I focused on ‘Hunter’ and let it open up in my mind.

Hunter

Your endurance increases by (1).

Monsters with a Challenge of 1-5 do not impact your Sanity, even when fighting solo.

You can mentally ‘Mark’ a monster you have seen. While Marked, you always know the direction and general location of that monster. You can only have one Marked monster at a time.

Well that’s cool. But my total endurance was still a four, the same as my willpower. If titles worked like everything else in the game I would need to wait for the treasure chest to arrive to get the benefits.

Next was abilities.

Abilities are listed here in their respective tiers and domains. Your Constitution (level 1) allows you to have (1) active ability at a time, which must be tier (0).

Your Fortitude (level 1) allows you to have (1) active ability at a time, which must be tier (0).

Constitution Fortitude Ability Tier Ability Tier Noxious Gas 0

Huh. Fortitude was the counterpart to Constitution. A whole casting stat I haven't met yet.

Focusing on noxious gas told me everything I already knew. Having everything laid out plainly was a help, though.

Favour was the mechanic I was least sure about. It was a reward for almost everything I did, so it had to have some importance, but whatever it was I wasn’t able to figure it out on my own.

Your daring exploits may catch our eye. In exchange for the entertainment you provide and the odds you overcome, you will be granted favour, a representation of your achievements as a form of currency. You may exchange favour for anything listed below.

Item Favour Constitution (Level 2) 2 Fortitude (Level 2) 2 Healing Potion 1 Major Healing Potion 3 Healing Elixir 4 (20% OFF!) Calming Potion 1 Major Calming Potion 3 Calming Elixir 5 Hunter's Kit 3 Gatherer's Kit 3 Explorer's Kit 3

So it was a useful number after all. Levelling my constitution seemed like a no-brainer. If certain powers weren’t accessible, then levelling it a couple times was top priority. At two favour, I could level it twice, and then buy a healing potion. That would keep me alive and I’d be able to eat more things and get better powers, which would get me more favour to eat more powers and get better stuffs. The circle of life. If survival was my main concern—which it was—that seemed like the best thing to do.

I mentally selected ‘Constitution (Level 2)’, and immediately afterwards it was replaced by ‘Constitution (level 3)’, and the favour had gone up to a cost of three. Shit. If I levelled it again, I wouldn’t be able to afford a healing potion. And I needed that.

Just to check all the boxes, I looked at the kits to see if it might tell me what was in them.

Hunter's Kit Shortbow, Cordon of Arrows (x20), Hand ax, Rope, Healing Potion, Hunter's Clothes

What a steal! With the healing potion included in the kit with the other items for three favour, I knew that’s the one I had to go with. After I selected it, the other two kits disappeared from the list. I had been hoping to exploit the system a little by buying all three when I had the favour, but I guess whoever was in charge saw through that.

I spent a few minutes getting a handle on all the pages of stats and numbers. After a while it all became somewhat intuitive. It was kind of simple. Simple enough to know what to do and what to avoid, at least.

When I pulled my hand away from the stone and let the world flood back into focus, the treasure chest was on the beach.

A wave lapped around the base of it, but unlike the first one that appeared, this one was pristine. Again, no boat. No drone overhead. No plane, either. If this chest came from somewhere else, it dropped through a portal or was hacked up by the ocean. I didn’t see any other way it could materialize so quickly.

The open lock was polished gold, the image of a hawk carved into it. Gold and silver lining adorned the sides and corners of the chest, and the wood was pleasantly smooth in that recently sanded sort of way. I cracked the lid.

Everything that the kit said would be included was laid out inside. The healing potion was off to the side this time to make room for the bow and arrows, neatly crossing the middle and covering everything else. The brown wool clothes were folded neatly at the bottom, wrapped in a dark blue cloak and resting just beneath a pair of hobnailed boots.

I popped the healing potion first. Like the elixir, it didn’t taste like anything, but unlike it it took some time for me to feel the effects. My bleeding gradually stopped, and slowly the pain receded.

I spent some time changing into the new clothes, desperately needed after I was already shirtless, my pants had been shredded to ribbons, and my shoes had decided to become sandals. It came with a belt and some small pouches dangling off it. It all fit suspiciously well. There was a sheathe of some kind for the hand ax and a holster for the bow, which slung comfortably over my back.

I couldn’t help but feel just a little giddy. RPGs were my way to let off steam after a stressful day, usually with Brie leaning on my shoulder, barraging me with questions about how everything worked and why can’t you just kill that shopkeeper and take his stuff?—and actually being one of the characters I used to make made all my childhood dreams come true in a twisted sort of way.

Also in the box were two vials, small enough to fit in the palm of my hand and containing a viscous fluid all too reminiscent of blood.

One was labelled “Hunter”, and the other “Constitution (Level 2)”. At least they’re direct about it. I downed both, thankfully neither tasting like how they looked, and waited around to see if I would feel anything.

To pass the time I looked over the partially cooked and smoking body of Large Bird. Aside from the horrifying visage the rest of him was starting to look rather tasty. It occurred to me, however, that I hadn’t the slightest inclination how to prepare him for a meal. The easy privileges of the modern urban lifestyle had stripped my cranium of the ancestral knowledge my forerunners were masters of: eating shit with lots of organs.

Suddenly aware of the people likely watching me, I fumbled around the creature’s body in an earnest attempt to understand his physiology. I confirmed it was definitely a bird. Great start.

Brie was always in my face about my cooking skills. I should have listened. My idea of artisanal cuisine was upgrading from Kraft dinner to actual homemade mac n’ cheese with an honest to god baked cheesy layer. My mouth began to water and, after picturing the voice of Gordon Ramsay did me no favours, I stepped my useless ass away from the beast.

My hand ax hit true, striking down on Large Bird’s leg with the crunch that came with splintering bone. The third hit severed it. I threw the leg over my shoulder and walked away from the body, searching for a place to make a fire.

Drumsticks, it is.

Two quick pop-ups notified me I was no longer leaking life fluid and that my sanity was in some semblance of order. The potion was working. That was nice.

What better place to cook the winged harbinger of death himself than on his very throne? The bluffs were quite a climb—the approach was steep, but thankfully decorated with trees that looked to be as pleased with the uncertain footing as I was. I was counting on setting up camp and getting a better view of the island from up top, as per the voice's suggestion.

I would have climbed all the way if I hadn’t stopped for a moment to catch my breath on slightly more even ground. Next to me the elevation was so steep that the gnarled roots of a tree above curled out of the ground, dangling in front of a recess in the slope. I squinted beyond them, to the darkened tunnel they concealed.

It wasn’t very wide. A rabbit (or a furbo) would have no difficulty moving through. I crouched low and peered in. I could squeeze through, too.

“Hello?” I called. There wasn’t much of an echo. Bird leg in one hand and dagger in the other, I shuffled in. There was an immediate drop in temperature, like I had slid through an imperceptibly porous layer separating it from the outside world.

The ground gave way beneath my hand, and the plummet swallowed my yelp.