After a long loop, Enoch came back to the trail. Continued until the forest died on a rocky fall line. Freed from the trees’ cover, the landscaped hit Enoch in all its glory. A narrow plateau dotted by clumps of mature trees, noisy streams, trimmed pastures, a cozy village. Houses made of wooden boards cuddled around oversized stone chimneys.

The twilight sky crowned the land, glorious behind the next mountain range. In this game, a gaseous planet took a huge chunk of the sky, displaying puffy swirls of creamy whites, bright teals and rusty reds. From his current instance, he had a good view of the planet’s north pole, crowned by a fractal storm.

Moons of different sizes and colors hanged everywhere, seemingly infinite. The lore offered them as a sufficient explanation for the unending, procedurally generated games. In reality, the view didn’t come close to the number of simultaneous instances, let alone all the amount created since the beginning of the game, five years ago. Still, the effort was commendable, generally agreed as credible world building.

Enoch marched on to the village. New players often lowered their guard in these idyllic communities. Veterans knew better. Who, after all, could repel the surrounding monsters with such success?

A high-level NPC, or a few, usually retired. Their wealth fuelled the community, their might protected it. The players were in their domain, had to play by their rule.

It had never been much of a problem for Enoch, not a merchant, not a thief, not a conqueror. He paid for supply and shelter, turned in quests and went on his merry way. Fast.

***

As expected, the habitants gave him weird looks. Some took a double take. One took a triple. He looked, after all, completely feral, running at unnatural speed, protected by an ugly mess of hide and rough wood, crusted with caked mud. On top of that, his straw hat clearly reminded them of the local gremlins.

Enoch smiled back with the glory of his Charisma 0. Lucky they hadn’t jumped him on sight. The chat caught on and rubbed it in.

“Move along citizens, just a low-level murder hobo passing by.”

“Legends say they’re good for the local economy.”

“Don’t bother this one, you’ll end up with a booby-trapped wood and a couple of death guards.”

Enoch waved dismissively at the chat, or at the empty air behind him, seen from the locals’ perspective. Didn’t help his case. He smiled awkwardly, again, and rushed to the townhall’s door.

The air smelled of smoke, burnt grease and garlic. It fitted with the place. Stone floor, three colossal fireplaces, solid furniture adorned with deer fur, including a white one, bear hides one the wall, one gray, one red, one white. Red was the biggest one by far. Whole trunks for support beams, crisscrossing the room at mid-height, the roof further up, passing 20 feet. Four chandeliers, concentric circles of wood arranged in a conical shape, their candles flickering through gremlin’s skulls.

Enoch removed his straw hat. The ambient soundtrack stopped. Choo whizzed around the room. The NPC’s AI must have been altered for the new patch, they barely reacted to the golem core.

A burly bunch, these villagers, women and men alike. Coarse air, long and braided, thick brow ridges. Dressed in immaculate leather decorated with painted dots and stylized lines.

Two wooden boxes framed the front door, full of spears, polearms and swords. Enoch slipped in his spear. Moved toward the quest board by the clerk counter, his back to the wall like a shaggy crab, a contrived expression frozen on his face. He had to reach the opposite corner. It took an eternity. Mobility didn’t help.

His audience gave him some support.

“I’m dying,” Tip | 1$

“March of the cringe hero.”

“Do I even have to say it.” Tag | Little bro

“Come on dear, you can do it.” Tag | Mom

“Just act like you belong.” Tag | Dad

The clerk greeted him when Enoch, eventually, reached him, “Nice hat.” An old guy, long pointy beard embedded with creepy figurines. He stared at his weird guess, sunken eyes glazed by boredom, lit by wit. He wore scaled armor. The tiny plates enchanted with runes, their edges shiny from wear.

The clerk had spoken too soon considering Enoch’s slow speed. The moment stretched into awkwardness. The noisy room went still. Whispers rose as Enoch passed by. He switched direction to face the old guy and his two friends, a lanky man and a fat one.

His eyes stayed down, tracked his feet until they found the base of the wall, went up to the Quest Board. He faked read the sparse notes until his brain came back online. Here it was.

Gremlin Pest | Local Quest | Rarity 1

Gremlins activity has surged in Hult wood. Find their lair and exterminate them.

Reward | 200 XP | 60 SC

Sixty silver coins (SC) and enough XP to level up. Close to level four, he’d shot past it toward level 5. That cheered him up. He picked the note, gave it to the clerk along with a proper greeting.

“Hello, good sir. Pardon my appearance. I’ve just came out of the wood. Took down the gremlin lair.”

The clerk stayed silent. A yellow line burned the note leaving a tiny trail of pixel smoke. It traced a stylized “Solved” on the coarse paper [+25 faction points | Edele village].

“I knew the hat looked good,” said the clerk, “name’s Andrej, tell folks you squared things with me if they give you any trouble.”

He rummaged under the counter, produced two coin bags as lights, pixels and the expected catchy tune enveloped Enoch. Level up. No one noticed. The game threaded a thin line between individual effects and realism. NPCs saw and heard everything, treated it all as normal. Might as well have coughed for all they cared. Outsiders were strange. The best strategy was avoidance.

“Congrats,” said Andrej with a wink, “got any loot you need to dumb? The depot and the smithy are closed at this hour.”

“Er, yeah. I mean, sure,” said Enoch. He looked around, hesitated, opened one satchel. Caked mud fell on the floor.

“Don’t worry son,” said the clerk, “we have someone to clean that mess, just leave a good tip and we’re all good.”

Enoch’s stress knots melted a bit. He stacked his piles of loot on the counter, added two silver coins, “for the cleaner.”

“More than enough,” said Andrej.

He glanced at the piles of semi-precious stones, the golden bowl and the unidentified magical idol.

“Sheesh, I’ll need to open the safe for this haul. 38 GC so far, want me to identify the item?”

“Sure,”

“That’s one silver,”

“Fair enough,”

Ipabo | Idol | Rarity 6

Patron god of traps | Bless target with Craft Traps 4.

Cost 5 mana | Range 2 | Duration 2 hours

7 uses per days

Enoch’s hand slowly slid the idol toward him, put it back in the satchel. He said, “I’m gonna keep that one.”

“Hadn’t pinned you as a trickster,” said Andrej, “sit down if you want to eat. Lazlo will bring you some Goulash. You want a beer?”

Enoch nodded, hurried to an empty table, put his back to the wall. Behind the counter, the clerk kicked his lanky friend who disappeared in the depth of the kitchen.

Good food and decent shelter gave buffs. Nothing major but worth it when you had access. Ideally, he would’ve ran some more today. He opted to stay in the village, saved him some outdoor shelter shenanigans and the bonus from a real bed would give him a boost tomorrow. Plus, he could always go to bed early and wake up at dawn.

Lazlo brought the soup, a loaf a bread, butter and a wooden mug filled with clear beer. He dropped everything unceremoniously, gave Enoch a wary look and a downturned mouth.

Enoch waited until the old guy turned, delivered his own smile, sarcastic with squinty eyes. What kind of server strolled around in a dirty gambeson? Bah. Frontier towns. They blurred the lines between conflicts and manners.

At least the soup was good. What an odd townhall.