The first thing to come back into focus is a brown wall. Smells of dung and grass follows, with the sounds of people talking coming in last. I have a look around, finding myself in a muddy street, in front of a large building. People are passing by me in various states of hurry, so I step off the path to avoid being run down. A cute bench gives me the perfect place to rest while I analyse my situation.

I’ve gained some skills and abilities. Strength and Endurance, pretty standard fare. Crafting, perception and bludgeoning weapons, also common stuff. Clearly my experience in the tutorial zone counted towards advancements. No sign of my actual HP, MP or endurance, just bars showing current state. I wish there was more information available online, but all the wikis are trawled by auditors to prevent excessive information sharing between players. You’re supposed to get the details on your own in this game.

A shadow falls over me, blocking the sun. Looking up, I see a stubbled face against the blue sky. A leathery face, greasy hair under a tricorne hat, a duster covering him against the elements. He grins when he gets my attention.

“Hey there, you’re a toplubber, aren’t ya?”

He seems very certain of himself. He's a player. I don't know how I know, but the certainty is overwhelming. With a heave, I stand up, brushing the dirt from my hands as I reach out to shake his.

“I am. Pleasure to meet you.”

He shakes my hand vigorously, clasping it with both hands.

“May I be the first person to welcome you to the wonderful city of Hogsmudd. Population thirty people, fifty pigs, four cows, one donkey and an uncountable number of chickens.”

He pulls me close putting his arm around me as he points out the sights.

“This right here is the main road. It’s main distinguishing feature, as it were, is that it’s the only actual road in town. Some of the nobbier farmers will insist they have a road too, but don’t listen. Dirt paths all the way to the door. Over there is my home away from home, the Salty Swine. No prize for guessing what they server for most dinners. The food is terrible and the women are unpleasant, but the coffee is hot and the seats are dry, so I love it. Next to that is the combined town hall, local jailhouse and food store. We have a place of worship, dedicated to Thenida, the lady of productive soil, a general store over there and several farms scattered in the general area.”

I take the information in as he finally stops to take a breath. That has to be some sort of special ability, speaking for so long without stopping. My respite is short lived, as he continues.

“The town is pretty friendly to transients, especially in harvest season, but don’t take advantage of any of the local farmers. There may be pretty daughters out there, and shotguns may not be a danger these days, but you face a real possibility of a crossbow wedding if you’re careless.”

He winks at me after this, and I feel compelled to smile at him.

“So what's your name, fella? I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone like you. You’re all green!”

It takes me a moment to get used to the silence, to realise he’s expecting me to say something.

“Oh, yeah, call me TeeCee, or Tee for short. I’m a half dryad.”

He looks me up and down with some alarm.

“Dryad? Are you sure? Dryads are terrible monsters with claws and teeth. If you so much as step into their forest without permission they’ll eat you alive.”

Holding up a hand so he can inspect it, I shrug.

“I don’t think that’s me. I mean, I’m not even sure I eat meat. What’s your name?”

Relieved, the smile returns to his face.

“I’m Captain Tubbins, at your service. Come, let me buy you a drink and introduce you to the fairer portion of this town's inhabitants.”

I’m sceptical, but he does seem to know what he’s talking about, so I follow him to the tavern.

“So is there a way to communicate with other players in this game? I’d like to tell my friends where I am so we can meet up.”

Before he answers, he calls over the landlady of the house. An old, foul tempered woman with little patience. At one point I saw her smack a farmer upside the head with a ladle for not speaking up when he wanted more drink. Somehow, Tubbins has a knack for making her smile, giving him a solid discount on anything he wants. So far, he’s wanted a keg of the most expensive ale in the house, a large chunk of roast hog and two waitresses as company. By the looks the other patrons were throwing our way, I suspected we were in the finest company you could buy in the town. I was feeling increasingly uncomfortable with the situation, but the captain had a way about him.

“Friends you say? How could any red .. Uhm, green blooded man need any other friends but these beauties?”

Their giggles were more sincere than you’d expect.

“But yes, there are many ways to communicate here below.”

As soon as we start talking about out of game concepts, the NPCs around us find something else to occupy them.

“The simplest, obviously, is to open your trap and make mouth words.”

He bursts out laughing at his own joke.

“Another way is to send a letter. Now, there are many tiers of service there as well. The more you’re willing to pay, the faster your message arrives, down to next day service across the continent. I’ve also heard legends about people who have learnt how to communicate across vast distances with nothing but their minds. That, of course, is nonsense. Can you imagine how long it’d take to learn a skill like that?”

He laughs again, and our companions join in as soon as we’re no longer talking about banned topics. We spend hours like this, talking about nonsense. We play games with the girls, starting with darts and knives, continuing with an improvised version of beer pong involving a turnip. The alcohol affects me more by each passing drink, and soon I’m teaching the girls some simple finger techniques for counting binary. My last memory is of standing on a table, shouting across the room.

“Bring me a quill, ink and paper, for I must write. And also a bucket, for I must..”

A burst of cold horror washes over me as the world intrudes on my sharp, angry cocoon. I blink a few times, regretting it as the pain finally registers. I’m hungover. Not a little tired after a long night out, but genuinely, what the fuck is covering my tongue, when did I eat seafood, somebody kill me now grade hung to the over. I felt so bad that the cold water I just had poured over me could only improve the situation. As my vision clears, a sour face appears above me, upside down. I recognize the landlady from the night before, except she seemed much more friendly then. I open my mouth to speak.

“Whuzza. Wheptrik? Whaaauh!”

I manage to turn to one side before I empty my insides. In my distress, I wonder briefly at what kind of evil programmer would sit down and decide to include this in a game I’ve paid real money to play. When I’m finally empty, I look back at the woman standing over me.

“I’m sorry, you seem to be standing upside down. Could you please fix that? It’s very disconcerting.”

The only response I get is a swift kick from a surprisingly strong leg. The chair supporting my position flies away, and I’m finally brought fully into reality as I crash onto the floor. I sit up carefully, feeling more fragile than I’ve ever been.

“Stand up, broccoli man.”

It takes me a moment to get to my feet. Everything spins just a little, and I see a debuff affecting me.

[You are hungover. The world is pain. You feel older than you actually are. Somehow, light feels heavy. There is no relief.]

When I’m finally up, she hands me a broom. Taking it from her, the confusion must have been apparent on my face, and my situation is explained to me.

“Your friend left you with the rest of the bill last night. He said he had to visit a sick aunt in Slowtrickle, over the next mountain. He left me with some guarantees, but what can I do with a useless stick and some rubbish tools?”

Realisation dawns on me, and my heart skips a beat. He conned me.

“So you’re going to work for me until you’ve paid off the bill in total. If you want to eat and sleep dry, that means a week of scrubbing and brushing. Get to it.”

In my daze I look at the broom, at her, at the mess in the room. I’ve been away from my friends for less than a day, and already I’ve fallen for a trick so old there isn’t even a book for it. With a longing look I gaze at the door, considering running for it. Before I can even move, there’s a crack, and a sharp pain in my skull, dropping my HP significantly.

“Don’t you dare run away from your responsibilities. If you even leave this room without permission, I’ll have your name with the kings huntsmen before the sun sets.”

I blink slowly, rubbing my head. Running seems like a poor option. I don’t know what king or what the huntsmen can do, but there’s no good reason to chance it right now. Besides, working in a tavern should let me get closer to people, give me a chance to gather the information I need to start my grand plan. Turning around, I’m about to start sweeping before I realise this broom isn’t going to do anything. There are mugs everywhere, plates strewn around the floor both with and without food. A lot of people have been sick in here, and to top it off, I have no water to help clean the place. Shrugging, I get to work gathering all the plates and utensils left behind.

An hour later I have a sizable tower of cutlery and plates stacked near the bar. I take a moment to admire the sheer volume, considering the size of the town I’m in. Did the pigs come in here for supper as well as the farmers? I have a brief flashback of the captain challenging me to what he called an eat-off, stacking dozens of dishes on top of each other to see who could finish them faster. He won by emptying most of the food on the floor, and as a prize I had to give him a piggyback ride. I shake my hand and continue the job, cleaning off the tables as best I can. Another hour passes before I’m joined by one of the girls from last night. She’s a bit startled at seeing me, turning a deep shade of crimson before we speak.

“Hi.”

I raise a hand in greeting, and she nearly bolts out the door.

“H.. Hi..”

Her voice is rougher than I remember it.

“So that was a pretty crazy party, wasn’t it?”

Her cheeks go even redder, indicating that yes, yes it was. I take the bucket of water she’s carrying, letting her calm down before I try to talk to her any more. She begins to carry the mugs and plates into the back room for further cleaning as I gather all the refuse into a neat pile. When she returns, I try to casually start a conversation.

“So yesterday was pretty crazy, yeah?”

She freezes in mid movement, her eyes like saucers as she stares at me.

“I mean, I had fun.”

I corrected myself quickly, but that only made her tear up and leave the room fast. I sigh, looking back at the mess around me.

“Who the hell let the donkey in?”