I used to read a lot of stories to my niece. I’d sit there, on the end of the bed, reading about a panda who was upset with a squirrel who refused to share her acorns, or about a young boy who fell down a hole at the bottom of a tree into a fantastical world of giant mushrooms and talking swords. She was too young to have any idea what I was talking about, but every once in a while I’d look over to check if she’d fallen asleep, only to see those big chestnut eyes enraptured. She was still struggling with her ABCs, and here I was throwing her into imaginary realms, reading made-up words and showing her pictures of things that couldn’t exist.

Listening to Gnome Chompsky try to explain where we were was how I imagined that experience was for her.

“This place should not exist in its current form,” he was saying. “Normally there is an order to these sorts of things, a separation of domains. There can be crossover, but such a feat is rare and deliberate. What we have here is an unintentional bleeding of realms, a splinter of one in the body of another. We are on this splinter now, you and I.”

It was my turn to be enraptured by a tale I didn’t understand. The skulls and I listened intently.

“I am not, as you might imagine, a creation of science, the dominant laws that govern your world, but rather of a wholly other make. There is no formation of elemental particles that leads to talking wood. I don’t have what you have, a brain, say, so you can see why those of my kind resort to philosophy.”

“So then who made you?” I wondered.

“The makers of this game world, harnessing the deep well of power within this place.” Gnome shifted underneath the weight of the chains. “Might you free me of this?”

He had been a good treasure chest. I didn’t fully trust him or what he was saying, but I was curious to know more and didn’t want to give him reason to keep information from me, so I walked over and removed the lock, throwing the chains aside.

“Ahhhh… that’s better,” he said. “Now, where was I?”

“Deep well of power.”

“Right. Have you ever mixed two liquids together, one heavy and one light?”

“Sure.”

“Well I haven’t. I’m a box. But I’ve heard of such things,” said the chest, rather cheekily. “When you mix the two, the elements naturally separate without intervention, the heavier one sinking to the bottom. Think of yourself and your world as the lighter liquid, and this magic as the heavy. It’s there, but you will not see it unless something coaxes it up.”

“And the makers are aware of this and are trying to do just that,” I concluded.

“You’ve hit the snail over the head, sapien.”

There’s another incorrect phrase. I shook my head. “But what is it? And what the hell does endurance and willpower and achievements have to do with any of it?” I had a dozen questions when I first got here, and now I had a hundred more.

“Why are you asking me?” Gnome’s voice took on a defensive tone. “I’m the one who’s been here, chained in the dark for so long!”

“You know about extra dimensional splinters but you don’t know why the people who made you have me in a live action RPG for their own entertainment?”

“Well, I didn’t say I knew everything,” said Gnome. “All that I’ve learned has been from the perspectives of those who came before you. Players who started to piece it all together and then, uh, well…” he didn’t need to have appendages for me to know he was gesturing to the adorning skulls. “You sapiens put such unfair expectations on wisened old objects of the arcane.”

I had to admit I was humbled in the presence of my slain forerunners. “That’s fair,” I shrugged. “Do you know why everything tastes like chicken? I can’t get it out of my head.”

The chest seemed to consider that. “I wouldn’t know. Does chicken taste like flesh?”

“No, but flesh probably tastes like chicken.” I shook my head. “Doesn’t matter right now. You said there were things lying in wait further in the game. Is that… stage two?”

The chest had the kind of laugh that drew attention to itself, like a jolly man with a very large belly. “Stage two is a description of it, to be sure. Not exactly a helpful demarcation, mind you. The mountains separating this side of the island from the rest act as more of a veil.”

I was quickly learning that Gnome seemed to love dropping little teasers of information, with the expectation that I would probe further, setting up his grand reveal. And of course I did. “A veil?”

“To shield you from what lies beyond. I said before that you have one foot in your world and the other foot in another. Where we are, so close to the sea, is not quite like that. It’s more like both feet are in your world, but you’re leaning into the other world. Your head has passed through. Maybe even a shoulder. Up to the sternum, let’s say. But you’re also looking back over your shoulder into your world. This metaphor is getting complicated.”

“I get it,” I interjected. “The deeper I go into the island, the more I’m stepping into this other world. The mountains prevent me from seeing beyond so I don’t get a peek at what’s really going on with the horrors and weirdness that’s ahead. It’s like the Wizard of Oz, written by H.P Lovecraft.”

“I do not know of this craft, but you are essentially correct.”

“And to try to harness this magic you’ve been talking about—“ I began.

“We must go deeper,” Gnome finished.

I nodded along. It would be a lie if I said I wasn’t a little excited at the prospect of uncovering the magic he spoke of. But it would also be a lie if I said I wasn’t massively terrified. “The powers I’ve already experimented with, and the titles I’ve already been given… that stuff isn’t magic?”

“’It is magic, no doubt, but only a fraction of the real arcane wonders to be unearthed here. An appetizer before the main horse,” he said. “As I said the makers have far more control where we are now. They watch and they wait. But over there, beyond the mountains, their hold is tenuous. There the natives of this realm hold more sway.”

I gulped. “Natives?” I hoped he meant people, or at least people-like.

“The Hobblescars. Creatures of trickery, they are.”

The name took a moment to register before I remembered the poem. “The things that eat children’s feet?”

“It would not surprise me, the foul things. They are beings of fey, powerful creatures, though I’ve not yet met one. But we must.”

“We must?” I felt my mind slinking back into its childhood body, sitting in bed with the covers drawn up to my nose, wide eyes fixed on the jacket and hat hung up in the closet. My mom had just finished reading me Rumplestiltskin and flicked out the lights. There was definitely someone in the closet, an apparition who had slithered into the jacket and was watching me, waiting for me to fall asleep.

“Of course!” Said Gnome. “They are not to be trusted, but anyone can be bargained with. If you take me with you and get us safely beyond those mountains, we could find one of these beings. Their power is great, and they will require payment in some form or another, but they have the capability to slip between worlds. They’ve likely visited yours already. Are you hearing me, sapien? Now is not the time for cowardice. Now is the time for adventure! Will you show me what you’ve got?”

I took myself by surprise by smiling. I nodded to the nearest human skull. “How many times have you had to make that speech?” I asked.

Gnome sighed. “You don’t want to know.” He shifted giddily on the clay table. “Do we have an accord? I am in your service now, sapien. I can be a guide. A friend. Someone to talk to, perhaps. And you will traverse this dangerous land like the brave delver of planes that I know you can be. And together we will free ourselves of this prison of madness. Oh, and you mustn’t die along the way.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” I said, stifling a yawn. I had been awake for an entire day, and the dust in the air was starting to tickle my nose. “So, I guess you’re itching to get out of this hole?”

Gnome rocked side to side. “You have no idea!”

Unique Item Received

- Gnome Chompsky -

You’ve met our ponderous friend, I see. He’s very chatty and has a tendency to put your foot in his mouth—I mean his foot in his mouth. He is one in a set of several other sentience imbued guides.

Reward

- Favor +2 (3) -

Title Acquired

- Delver -

Nathan Drake would be proud. Indiana Jones would be humbled. You have found a secret location containing a unique item within the first 72 hours on Killjoy Island. Truly the finest among us.

* Your Endurance increases by (2) and your Willpower increases by (1). *

* Passive abilities which match your current tier decrease your Constitution/Fortitude at a rate as if you were one tier higher. *

* You appear physically attractive to others even in the grimiest of conditions. *

Achievement Unlocked

- Acquire a rare title -

You’re on a roll. Through time sensitive or unique parameters, you have acquired a title less than 5% of players have. Others will be jealous.

Reward

- Favor +1 (4) -

As I scooped up Gnome I had to put my free hand to my head to combat the wave of prompts ringing in my mind.

A unique title. That was cool. I thought about it, opening that part of the menu in my mind. When I tried to select it, it refused, telling me I needed to find a standing stone to change titles. The same was true of spending my newly earned favour.

“Are there more of those rocks with the glyphs on them?” I asked Gnome as I attempted to find safe footing on the ladder of bones.

“Quite a few,” he said. “Players tend to congregate in tribes around them.”

“Makes sense.” With Gnome in one hand and my other grabbing the ladder, I slowly lifted us out, careful not to break any of the femurs. “Do you like drumsticks?”

“I don’t believe I’ve ever tried one,” Gnome piped up, his tone piquing with curiosity.

“Maybe I’ll throw you a bite back at camp.”

“Haha! Delightful!” He exclaimed. I could feel him squirming in my grasp. “I do think this is the start of a bountiful friendship.”

I sighed. “No, it’s… actually, you know… that kind of works,” I said, as we stepped back out from under the tree.