“Could you maybe do a little less screaming,” he said while covering his pointed ears.

Heather took in the creature before her as her limbs began to tremble. With great effort, she tried to scramble away, but the recent fall down the stairs left everything hurting. Her legs barely moved, and she had no strength in her arms. She settled for slowly flopping across the floor before finally breaking down with a scream.

“I want out!” she yelled, her voice echoing off the walls as if taunting her.

“Are you alright?” the ghoul asked but made no move to harm her. She came to a halt, eager to stop straining injured muscles, and looked to the monster. He stood a dozen paces away, watching with a curious gaze that hinted he wasn't about to eat her.

“What are you?” she said in a staggered breath, trying to gain some measure of composure but turning her head to avoid looking directly at him.

“I’m a ghoul,” he replied with a voice that sounded almost cheery.

“You're a ghoul?” Heather repeated the words, not making much sense. What on earth was a ghoul, and why was it talking?

The creature nodded his head. “It's pretty cool, isn't it?”

The display was like a teenage boy as his gruesome visage bobbed. He looked like a kid proud of his Halloween costume and eager to show it to everyone. She went to sit up to discover to some amazement that her pains were rapidly diminishing. Already the soreness in her arms and legs was nearly gone, and even her foot felt better. She dared to come to a sitting position and struggled to look the ghoul in the face.

“Where am I?”

“You're in my mausoleum. It's a work in progress, but it's going to be so awesome when it's done.”

Heather nodded at the strange response and the enthusiasm in which it was delivered. “So you’re not going to eat me?”

“Why would I eat you?” the ghoul asked. “You’re not worth any experience.”

Heather was lost as to what that meant, but at least he said he wasn't going to eat her. With a glance around to ensure nothing else was about to pounce, she struggled to get up. Her legs were less painful but still weak, reminding her of the long run from the worm. It took her a moment to stagger up, and she had to use the wall to keep balance.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” the ghoul asked, taking a step forward.

“You stay right there!” Heather ordered, and the creature came to a stop. “I am not alright! Noting about this situation is right; I wasn't supposed to be here!”

“You weren't?”

“No, I didn’t sign up for the program! I was chosen!” Heather cried, struggling to keep in her tears.

The ghoul's eyes went wide, and he smiled with a broad grin full of horrid teeth. “Oh! I wish you were worth some experience. You would level me three or four times!”

She glared at him as the words experience and level continued to puzzle her mind. Whatever these terms meant, they were important to this creature as his shoulders slumped in defeat to admit she wasn't worth any.

“What does any of that mean?” she asked.

“What does what mean?” the ghoul responded.

“That I’m not worth any experience,” she hissed as her fear began to turn to anger.

“You haven't chosen a class yet, so you're not worth anything,” the ghoul said. “I'm not even allowed to attack you. You can't PvP zero-level players.”

Heather was pretty sure he was speaking in a foreign language but nodded her head as if she understood. She knew her brother used some of these terms, but she never took the time to understand them. All that came to mind was a class was like a profession, a set of skills to do a job. Her brother played a paladin in that one game, but that did little to help her situation. Her frustration mounted as she realized just how foreign this land was, and like a foreign land came with a whole new language.

“Why haven’t you picked a class yet?” he asked.

“I have no idea what you are talking about!” she snapped. “I don’t know what you mean by experience or levels, and all I know about a class is it’s some kind of job.”

“But, how could you not know?” he asked with a confused expression.

“I wasn’t planning on being here. All I know of this place is what I saw on some tweets!” she yelled as if he was to blame.

“So you don’t know anything about New Eden or the game mechanics?” he asked.

“No!” she yelled. “Why would I want to know about this stupid place if I wasn’t planning on coming here?”

“It isn't stupid; it's amazing!” he said. “Look at me. I'm a ghoul!”

“You’re disgusting,” Heather pointed out and turned her face, unable to keep looking at him.

“I know, isn’t it amazing!” he replied with the same enthusiasm as if proud of his appearance.

“Ehh, boys!” she growled and dared to look at him again.

“You really have no idea what to do?” he asked, glaring down at her with lifeless yellow eyes.

She had to look away in disgust as she tried to take a few steps. “No, and I don’t want to know. All I want to do is get out.”

“You can’t,” he said.

“What do you mean I can't?” she barked, looking at him in anger and remembering why she wasn't looking at him in the first place.

He threw his hands in the air and shrugged. “You’re part of the world now. You have to fulfill your purpose here. There is no way out, well not that anybody knows of.”

“I didn’t volunteer!” she yelled.

“I know, that means you’re a chosen,” he said with a grotesque smile.

“Stop smiling!” she yelled when she dared to look at him. “What is a chosen anyway?”

He sighed. “You really should have read a wiki or something.”

“Just tell me what it is!” she ordered, growing frustrated with everything he said.

He squatted down, sitting on his heels to assume a less threatening stance before answering. “Most people are just players. We volunteered to come in and play a role we created beforehand. You can pick almost anything you can imagine and customize it how you see fit.”

“And you chose to be this disgusting thing?” she asked. He nodded, causing drool to fly from his horrid teeth. “Why?” she asked with a shake of her head.

“Because it's cool,” he said. “I get to play as an undead and have cool undead powers. I can create a graveyard and build it up as my base of power. Someday when I level up, I am going to build a grand pyramid full of rooms, traps, and treasures.”

She nodded as he gleefully described the wondrous building he hoped to construct. As he went into detail about the lower tunnels and the hidden tombs below, she cut him off.

“So why don’t I know what I am? I didn’t get any choice of what to be.”

He somehow managed to blink his lidless eyes in a display so disturbing it made her skin crawl.

“You need to log into your panel and pick,” he said as if the answer was obvious.

“My what?”

“Your panel,” he repeated.

“Hello, I am new here. What is a panel?” she snapped.

He leaned back and tilted his head as if the question was ridiculous.

“The tablet computer looking thing you arrived with,” he said.

“Tablet computer?” she repeated and looked about as if it should be lying nearby. “

“You do have your panel, don’t you?”

She shook her head and looked up. “I have nothing but a dime, a quarter, and an old receipt. I don’t even have my cellphone.”

He scratched at his head with a long claw and seemed to be thinking. “You must have it. chosen always start with a panel.”

“I told you I don’t have one!” she yelled.

“Where did you translate in at?” he asked.

She paused to think about what translate even meant and then remembered it was the word used for how people entered New Eden. It was one of the very few things she actually understood and traced her steps back to where she first awoke.

“Just an open clearing in the forest,” she replied. “But when I woke up, I kind of panicked and ran away before looking around.”

“Then you probably had one and left it behind. I bet it's laying right there,” he said.

“Where? In the clearing?” she asked.

He nodded his head. “Chosen are amazing; they can pick their own paths while inside the game. They can even multi-class as two primary classes.”

“I have no idea what you're talking about!” she yelled. “And I walked for hours before I found this place. Are you telling me I have to walk hours back to get the panel thingy?”

He shrugged. “I guess so.”

“What if that worm thing out there eats me?”

“Oh!” he said with excitement. “That's perfect! You can let it eat you, and you will respawn in the clearing. Then you won't have to walk back!”

“I’m not letting that thing eat me!” she yelled.

“But you won’t have to walk back,” he said.

She folded her arms and huffed. “I will just sit here and wait for this to end.”

“But that could take forever, and you won't have any fun,” he insisted.

“I didn’t come in here for fun!” she argued. “I was chosen against my will!”

“Which is why they give chosen more choices,” he said. “You were chosen because something about you is special and they want to study it. Since you didn't volunteer, they took you, but they give you special rewards and privileges. You would know all this if you logged into your panel.”

“My panel is a thousand miles away being eaten by monsters in the forest!” she shouted.

“I don’t think you can break the panels,” he interjected.

“Why are you so happy to be here?” she quipped as his enthusiasm made her angry.

He stood up and spun around. “All this is mine. I don't have to worry about paying bills, or taxes, or working for a jerk. I get to play an undead and level up my crypt-building skills. Someday I will have a vast necropolis with skeletons and zombies that adventuring parties will raid. It will be so much fun!”

Heather found taking steps to be easier and paced the back wall of the chamber as he replied. He seemed so excited to be a part of this place, despite how horrible he looked.

“Well, I don't think it's fun,” she said. “And I want out.”

“But you could be anything you want,” he insisted.

“I want to be an escape artist and get out!” she mocked, folding her arms in defiance.

His shoulders slumped with a defeated sigh that made her uncomfortable.

“What, you're going to pout because I want to get out?” she asked.

“I would give anything to be a chosen,” he said. “Then I could be a vampire lord, or a lich, or a devil even.” Even as he spoke, his gruesome face sank as his long nails clawed aimlessly at the floor. She felt bad about speaking to him so angrily; this wasn't his fault after all. As she pondered his words about wishing to be a chosen, she had a fantastic idea.

“I tell you what, you help me find a way out, and I will give you my panel. Then you can use it to be a chosen and play a Vampire lich thingy.”

He looked up at her with bright eyes. “You will?”

“I won’t be needing it,” she said with a weak smile.

He scratched at his head a moment, pondering her offer. “I am pretty sure there is no way out. When you take the classes before coming in, they tell you nobody has ever come out. I also seem to recall the news saying that a chosen's panel was locked to them.” He went quiet a moment more before coming to a conclusion. “I guess it wouldn't hurt to check, though. Why don't I go with you to the clearing, and we can see if I can even use it? If I can, then I promise to help you find a way out.”

Heather felt a sliver of hope and readily agreed. “Fine, you help me get the panel, and we will if you can use it. If you can, then you help me find a way out, and you keep the panel to be whatever.”

“What about you?” he asked.

“What about me?”

“You need to pick something,” he said. “The players can't kill you because you’re level zero, but any old rat or giant bat could squish you in a heartbeat. The random monsters aren't bound by the same rules as the players.”

“I don't want to pick something. I want out,” she protested. “Besides, all I saw was a bird and that horrible worm thing.”

He sighed. “Let's go get your panel. Then we can figure out what you're going to do.”

She nodded her agreement and tested a few more steps to discover she felt fine. “Why do I feel so much better?”

“You’re level zero; the world regenerates your health quickly. Once you pick a class, you will heal more slowly unless you pick something that heals fast.”

She shook her head, unable to comprehend what he just said. “Look, none of that makes sense to me. Let's just go,” she suggested.

“Yes, master,” he mocked and led the way up the stairs.