I don’t know if I was more excited or anxious to leave work the next day. Here I was, finally following in David’s virtual footsteps. Whatever had lured him to spend so many hours in this game I would hopefully soon learn.

I hadn't used my truVR gear since David’s accident. The headset and electrodes lay on their charging cradle, a thin layer of dust staticked to their glossy black surfaces. I wiped away the dust and attached the soft electrode pads to their places over my heart and carotid artery, confirming they gave vital signatures before lying on my bed and donning the helmet.

The familiar sensation of a truVR dive came upon me, starting with a tingling at my extremities that quickly spread across my whole body.

Then, nothing. I couldn't feel myself, and was surrounded by dark. I always hated this moment, brief as it was. It felt like being buried alive in a coffin so tight there was no room to move.

But the moment passed, and my virtual desktop quickly assembled itself around me. I stood on a loamy hill covered with soft green grass. The sun shone overhead but the broad leaves of the ancient beech tree at my back shielded me from the beating heat. Clouds drifted in a sky bluer than any you’d see in nature. At the base of the hill wildflowers grew in white and yellow and red, stretching as far as the eye could see in every direction.

I'd visited a place like this when I was younger, and it had moved me enough that I forged my virtual desktop in its memory’s image so I could visit it whenever I wanted.

The floating icons like possessed CRT TVs hadn’t been there in my original visit. These represented the games and software I could use while immersed in a truVR dive. Most of them bore thick gray borders, but one of them was bounded by a band of red signifying newly installed software.

I approached Sigurd Morrison’s Bug Hunt and the icon expanded into a gaping doorway leading into a lightless void. With not a little trepidation I left behind the peaceful diorama of my virtual desktop and stepped into the dark unknown.

***

No public servers found!

Searching again...

No public servers found!

Join private server or Exit?

I blinked, and then called up my clipboard and dragged what I hoped was an encrypted server address into the window.

Server found.

You have joined '9120350078154024e00f'

Message of the day: 'Добро пожаловать в новый мир'

Before I had time to tell the computer to translate the MotD everything disappeared. The moment of unfeeling, unseeing dark came and passed once more, but my new surroundings were not so quick to load this time.

A minute passed, and then a small platform appeared beneath my feet. I had the sudden perception I had been falling down a bottomless pit before the ground appeared, but pushed the feeling aside.

After the platform loaded, a text window maybe two feet long and one tall appeared before my face.

Welcome to game! You are new, so here is “up to speed”: In birth, you become gift three determined “perks.” These last in life. These reassigned in dead. Stay alive for nights get more perks in choice of three and get more features like sending private messaging to players! For now: get food, get housing, hunt bug, (if you are an ASS-HOLE) hunt player. Survive the night!

After I finished reading it the window disappeared an a new one popped up in its place, a table describing three of the perks described by the introduction message. I wondered if they were random or if they were the same for every new player, and if I could reselect them.

WAYFINDER Nearest town and any close treasure boxes appear on the map. SANDMAN Sleep gives double healing. FRIENDLY PHEROMONE Bugs will not attack unless you run near.

The perk descriptions seemed more coherent than the initial message had been. I was at least pretty sure I could understand what they meant, though I wasn’t sure of their significance. Was sleep the only way to heal? Did double speed healing actually mean anything? Were maps plentiful in the game already? I doubted a survival game like Bug Hunt appeared wouldn’t leave its players without any way to navigate the world. Now, Friendly Pheromone sounded useful, and Sandman sounded promising, but I wasn’t so sure about Wayfinder. I tried tapping its box to see if I could reselect the perk, but instead it closed out the window and a new message shoved itself into my face.

We. Are. OFF!!! Enjoy your stay in the heartthrobbing fast paced world of BUG HUNT.

Before I could react the platform of ground beneath my feet seemed to fuzz and then expand, stretching out in every direction and sprouting plants and stones and trees and hills. A white sun manifested up above, casting my shadow harsh and long before being obscured by a sickly gray cloud cover that dulled the colors of the world sprouting up around me. Trees grew sharp branches, and tiny shoots of grass wriggled from the soil to nestle the weeds and flowers and bushes that had already rendered.

Within moments I stood alone in a field of yellow-gray grass, surrounded by thin fog and skeletal trees and bushes. Hills and mountains rose in the close and far distances, and there was not a living creature in sight.

Something was very off, but it took me a moment to realize it.

I could barely feel anything. There were sounds, to be sure, and while the world was poor quality (textures looked very much like textures, if that makes any sense. Not photorealistic at all) the visuals definitely existed.

But the sensations I should have been experiencing were just… missing. I felt a basic pressure on my skin (looking down, by the way, I saw myself dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, with a backpack’s straps over my shoulders) where it was exposed that matched the dull animation shared by all the tree branches and grass as a half-assed wind script moved them to and fro. Dull heat warmed me when I stepped into the odd patch of bright sunlight, but it was more a feeling of general warmth like you’d feel from wearing a too-thick jacket than the caress of sunlight on a chilly day. I couldn’t smell anything at all, nor taste the blade of grass I plucked and raised to my lips.

This game wasn’t properly synced with the sensory servers that literally every major game used. I’d only been there a moment, and Bug Hunt sucked already.

Crashing and peripheral movement caught my attention, and instinctively I turned, crouched, and drew my weapon. Luckily the game responded to that nervous command the same way most standard shooters did. I would have hated to have to spend a half hour trying to figure out where all my gear and commands were located in the ease-of-access queue. Sure, manually pulling off my backpack and sorting out its contents could work in a pinch, but it’s so much more convenient to feel the presence of your ammo in your mind, reach back, grab it, and reload without wasting precious active thought processing on it.

In any event, I drew a worn-looking Makarov pistol from my hip holster and aimed it at the source of the noise to my left.

Or at least, I tried to. My aim was off, artificially sped up and wobbly. As I saw the slavering jaws of a timber wolf closing in, I doubted I could correct my aim in time to save my new-found life.