This oversized shotgun, Jak realized, would need more than his two feeble hands to wield. Clutching it by the twin brass barrels, he stood alone at the mouth of a tall grotto as whoever had dropped this gun on him had fled.

It wasn’t difficult to figure out why. Hanging ferns and moss shook above, in time to a shadow pulsing, looming larger on the cave wall. It roared around the corner. Inhuman, and deep.

Jak splashed backwards into a puddle, sneezing. All this damp and pollen, this smoke in the air. Smoke? He pulled down on its hinge to crack open the shotgun. The barrel was empty; it had already been fired. Zak was tempted to chuck it and run like the previous marauder had…but this shotgun was badass! How could he let it go? It didn’t matter what game this was, Jak wasn’t about to let a rare item slip through his hands.

Soaked up to the shins in seawater, he waited for this creature to come and kill him. It was a relief, really. Served his company right for pressuring him inside the VR pods at the last minute. Do it for the fans, my ass! Sure, it’ll be embarrassing to look back at this footage on stream, but he could blame it on RNG. Being this spectacularly unlucky was content in itself, probably better than if he tried -could you imagine actually spending three real life days in a Battle Royale? Jak shivered. Partly because now, there was nothing but shadow ahead. It was time.

A small boy poked his head out. The massive shadow withstanding. After one glance at Jak and his giant antique, he laughed. “There’s no way you can use that thing, is there?”

Jak looked around, wondering when the horror bullshit was going to happen. When it didn’t, he replied, “It’s not mine, actually,”.

“Really?” The boy skipped out from the grotto, feet making practically no noise. Where he stopped, two tiny ripples shimmered across the water. “Because you’re holding it pretty tight.”

“Well it’s mine now.”

“And if I said I wanted it?” asked the boy, growing to monstrous size.

Jak adjusted his grip on the shotgun, keeping a tight hold with his chest. The creature zipped back down to child-size, looking confused. “You’re weird,” it said.

Jak shrugged. Since this was taking so long, he decided to wade up onto dry stone. “I’m not from around here, you could say.”

The creature smiled, and was suddenly surrounded by a cloud of mist and multi-coloured flecks of pollen, making Jak cough. Once the cloud dissipated, the boy showed his true form and said, “That’s nice to hear. People are awfully judgy in Bilgewater.”

Jak cocked his head at the sight. Furry, but not like a cat girl or any of that weeb shit. Short too. Still, he’d seen weirder. “Bingewater. Oh, yeah…that’s what this place is called.” He scrunched his nose. “Good name.”

“Bilgewater,” the furry creature corrected. “And if you’re not down here to tag a Yordle bounty, which you clearly aren’t, what are you doing?”

Jak sighed. The creature -Yordle was it? - saw no reason to kill him. He could ask, but his fans would riot if he did that. But was that his responsibility? As much as he wanted to be back home, running raids and grinding, he had to remind himself that going to this con was a privilege. Using this VR pod was a privilege. One he was really taking for granted.

“I don’t really know,” Jak told the Yordle, who was busy combing out their whiskers with a claw.

Jak looked back to a myriad of different dirt paths. Some crumbled into the sea, some led deeper into the undergrowth. The Yordle prodded him, making him yelp back.

“Have a tuft of my hair. You might get something for it,” they said. They scampered up over a thin pillar of sediment and pointed. “Bilgewater’s that way. But word of advice; If you’re lost for what to do, just pick up the first thing that interests you, and really go for it.”

*

There was no direct way up. This island Jak had found himself on was a huge spire, connected to the main port by a thin arch, a natural rock bridge with its underside reinforced by a webbing of ropes and scaffolds. The only road wound round the island rather than cutting up through it. Jak walked up tier after tier, and gradually the path filled with civilization. Little inns and shops, small districts propped up, hanging off the steep cliff edges like bird houses nailed to a tree trunk. Though a good view, it didn’t make the ascent any easier.

Jak collapsed on the corner storefront, gasping for water. But as someone approached from inside, he slid his shotgun off the counter. He didn’t want to give the shopkeeper the wrong idea.

“I don’t do fish,” said the shopkeeper with a sniff, “You’ll have to go up –” He stopped when he saw the gun. Then bent back to grab a jar of water, dropping it in front of Jak. “What have ya got for me?” he asked, leaning on elbows, his shirt rolled up neatly over them.

Jak chugged it down and stepped back to take in the sweet relief. All around the shopfront was a wooden frame, every inch of it plastered over with a face, a number and a description.

Still smiling, the shopkeep tapped one. “Bounties. I assume you’ve come to deliver,” he said, “What proof have you?”

Jak reached in his trousers. Yes, he still had it. He had almost forgotten about the tuft of hair from that creature. But was this the time to use it?

The shopkeeper sensed his hesitation. Reaching over to touch Jak’s shotgun he asked, “Do you know this was out on loan? Now, I know it wasn’t you who bought it, but nevertheless if you have nothing to show for your adventures down at the shoals, I’ll have to take it back.” As Jak held on to the ‘trophy’, the shopkeeper looked down the barrel. “Oh, it’s empty. You’ll need to pay for that too. You don’t find shells for this beastly thing just anywhere.”

Jak snatched his shotgun back and slammed down the tuft of Yordle hair without a word. Taking it in his hands, the bounty master slipped out a magnifying glass from his waistcoat and inspected it, pacing deeper into his shop. Jak wondered if he should run off now, but the arch bridge still loomed so far ahead. He had to gamble that this was worth something, or he’d really need to sell his gun. While he waited, Jak looked through some of the different bounties available. Most were gangers or pirates, humans, though the poster had drawn them comically exaggerated, but there were some beasts and other strange beings mixed in too. If Jak was going to be in this world for a few days, he might as well pick up something to do. Wasn’t that what the pipsqueak Yordle said, anyway? He peeled them off their nails by the dozen, until he had a sheaf he could barely hold in one hand.

“I would’ve preferred the head, but this is genuine,” said the bounty master in the background, “How about I give you, say, a quarter of the bounty? It probably won’t be showing its face for a while after a shot from that thing.”

Jak peered in, looking for the shopkeeper amongst the shadowed hoard. But he quickly found himself distracted by some of the pieces. Slender, sinewy blades, expertly made chain mail. All sorts of equipment that wouldn’t go amiss in a Battle Royale. But who cared about that? He wanted to collect it all.

The bounty master emerged with a stack of gold coins. He cut off Zak’s line of sight to the items. “They’re a little out of your price range, my dear,” he said, then noticed the stack of bounties in his hand. “You took them all? This isn’t a gallery, mate, choose who you’re after and be off with ye!”

“I’ll get through them all, eventually.” Jak looked down at the bounties, confused. It wasn’t that weird, was it? But then again, he’d been conditioned to accept all the quests he can by years of MMOs. He counted the coins, sneaking forlorn glances at the sparkling loot out of his reach.

The bounty master hopped away for a moment, coming back with a drawer glistening with tubes. “You intrigue me, I must admit,” he said, “So I’ll give you a special deal.” Plucking out two tubes, he placed them upright by the coins.

Once he counted 25 coins, Jak picked up a tube, wondering what kind of sorcery it was. A consumable, perhaps? Damage buff? Potion? He looked back at the shopkeeper for an explanation.

“They’re special shells. For the shotgun,” he said with a grunt, “On second thought…” He put the other back. “These are expensive. And hard to come by. But if you actually start going through that pile of bounties, I’ll be happy to keep you well supplied.”

“How expensive are they?” Jak asked, loading the single shell into the breeched hinge.

“Ten gold a piece on a good day. Fifteen on a bad.”

Sweeping his coins into a purse, Jak locked the shotgun into place, then looked out beyond the passage of water towards the port of Bilgewater. Hoisting the shotgun against his shoulder, he decided it wasn’t as heavy as before. Still, the arch was several steep tiers up.

“Do you have anything to drink besides water?”

*

Jak headed upwards, refreshed but alone. Was it even worth it to go all that way? For all he knew, the instant he stepped foot in the main port he might get shot by a random contestant. That’d be a short clip. And a quick mercy, he thought. But now that he had a weapon that likely would do some damage, and an opportunity to gain power through other means, he felt guilty trying to forcefully exit the game.

He shuffled the bounties, judging their difficulty on how menacing the profile was. Not like there was a level or star rating system to their difficulty. Which was refreshing in a way. The progression of MMOs were fun, they were Jak’s bread and butter, but the non-linear nature of his situation was starting to appeal to him. He could pick any one of these, plan and execute a strategy to take them out with the adrenaline rush of real feelings but the withholding of death. Which was a little unfair, to be honest.

He wondered a moment about that bounty hunter that ran away from the grotto, leaving his shotgun. Players had an inherent advantage as bounty hunters here, it was broken. What a rich world this was, the eventual MMO would be awesome, but it felt like such a shame to waste it on a Battle Royale. That shopkeeper talked to him normally. He hadn’t even realised it, hadn’t made fun of him or tried testing the limits of the AI, distancing himself, or trying to get him to do something unauthorized. Damn. That could’ve been funny. But instead, he had found himself suckered into listening, into treating him like a real character. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.

“Are those all your bounties?”

Jak swung down his shotgun and aimed it. The sailor raised his hands, but he seemed more impressed by the gun than he was scared of it.

“Tell me you’ve got an opening in your adventurer squad,” he said, “I’ve got my uses, I swear it. But mostly I want to watch you fire that thing.”

Jak lifted the gun back against his shoulder, trying to hide the quivering of his arms. “I was going to do them on my own.”

“Oh, wow. Please, let me tag along. For the experience?”

Adjusting his bandana to tuck away some strands of black hair, he hopped beside Jak and they kept walking. Shoving the bounties into the sailor’s prying hands, Jak considered it. He somehow hadn’t thought about making a group for his quests. With the nature of the game being PVP he had highly doubted any contestant would waste their time to help him in his completionist endeavours -especially knowing who he was, that they wouldn’t get to see any of the loot they won. But going into a city full of dangerous criminals on his own was foolish. Yet, a party full of NPCs?

Jak watched as the sailor pored through the bounties in awe. For someone with only one life, he had sure had a death wish. More foolish than himself. The sailor caught Jak’s stare with a suggestive grin, which receded slowly until he, suddenly, zipped past.

“You’re a bounty hunter, ain’t ya?” he asked loudly to someone clearly hungover and in need of personal space. “You should join us!” Helping the poor woman up, the sailor shoved a bounty in her face and somehow, a minute later she too was walking alongside Jak. Broody, sullen. A perfect complement to the naïve sailor. Another moment later a fourth blinked in between them, tossing a tusk-like dagger as they read the topmost bounty on the pile.

“Bounties, eh?” he asked. “Every group needs a light foot or two. How about letting me in?”

Jak instinctively conferred a look with his sailor. Naturally he was a little shocked, but he shrugged, and now the party took up most of the narrow path.

As evening set, the party crested the top of the island revealed the first actual hub of activity. Smiths and inns, offices and stables. As they passed one of the more eccentric buildings, a young scholar bumped into the four-strong wall. The other three moved on, but Jak stopped, sticking his shotgun into the ground to free his arms and help the kid.

“Thanks, miss -oh great serpent you’re a mercenary!” He sprouted up without Jak’s help. “A group?”

Jak scowled. He knew where this was going, and by judging by how easily he was knocked down, this kid wouldn’t survive the first two encounters. “You can’t join with us, Sorry. I don’t want that on my conscience ”

The scholar brushed down his white robe jogged after Jak. “Oh, come on, I just look small.”

The others looked back for a moment as Jake re-joined them, but nodded and moved on.

“I have powers! I’m useful!”

Arriving in the tavern, Jak sat down and let the chatter all around settle him in. The scholar got them all anything they wanted in an attempt to buy his way in. They all laughed; the sailor; ex-mercenary; thief; scholar. And then there was Jak, with his giant shotgun. One more member and they would have a full party. Just like an MMO. As the group grew louder, a huge ginger grunt strode towards them and Zak could only wonder how he was going to get incorporated into his adventure.

Still, boots up against the bench he pulled his shotgun up from under the table. Wielding it was almost second nature. Which was good, because regardless of how realistic these NPCs acted, this was his story.