“Chat with username @Virus,” Charles barked at the computer as he trudged through the sandy landscape.

There’s no one nearby to chat with.

“He just sent me a message,” Charles replied through gritted teeth. He’d been having this conversation for the past ten minutes and the computer kept playing dumb. “Let’s try again. Chat with username @raptorscales.”

The likeliest explanation was that his friend was pranking him, but that would mean Scales was in Wastelands, which would be nice. It would certainly break the monotony of the tutorial.

There’s no one nearby to chat with.

He sighed. So much for that idea. Walking was...walking. Not the most interesting part of the game, for sure. The desert vistas were surprisingly compelling given the hand-drawn art style. The cacti looked appropriately prickly and the sand gleamed under the scorching sun. The VR interface was amazing. He could almost feel his avatar's boots sinking into the sand as he walked.

But he was still just walking.

The monotonous feel was somewhat lightened by the soundtrack, which keep looping through various cowboy movie themes. It wasn't that bad, now that he was used to the tinny, retro sound.

It was appropriate to the setting, if a little stark. His only companions were a bunch of tumbleweeds and some hares off in the distance. The rabbits looked like they had horns on the top of their heads—jackalopes? This game seemed to have cryptids and mythological creatures, which was something the scifi-themed Legends of the Universe did not have. The heroes in that game fought aliens.

The fantasy theme was nifty, at least as far as the cute bunnies were concerned. The creepy calaveras were another story.

He stopped and examined the herd. They seemed to be dragging something. Should he go and investigate or—

A figure appeared in front of him, startling him.

Like everything else in the game, it looked oddly hand-drawn. It was an old man wearing a tattered cowboy hat, a leather vest, jeans and cowboy boots. He looked like a stereotypical rangy cowboy except for one thing: He was a robot.

The old man tilted up his hat and smiled, his robot eyes glowing red. "Welcome to the Wastelands. You look like you are new around here. I am Win Chester and I can show you around, or answer questions."

Ah, this must be the tutorial. Tutorials were short sequences at the beginning of games that allowed the player to get familiar with the system. The old man was an NPC, or non-playing character, he likely had a limited amount of information he had to impart.

And his name was a pun. Win Chester or Winchester the name of an Old West gun manufacturer. Ha ha. Very funny.

This game was a riot. Not.

The old man turned and pointed at a couple of faint shapes on the horizon. "The town is over there."

Charles peered at the horizon. The shapes could very well be houses or shops, But they looked far away. Was he going to have to spend half an hour trudging through the desert? That would get old real fast.

"You can get there faster by using your boost,” Win said.

Instructions for using the boost appeared in the air, telling Charles he had to press the controller's directional buttons twice. The tutorial was useful, at least.

"The town has an apothecary where you can find healing potions, a saloon where you will find food and water, and a blacksmith who can provide weapons and cybernetic parts." He glanced at the left side of Pak-Man's poncho. "I can't help but notice that you are missing a little something there, ha."

The old man's laugh was more like a bark, but it got the point across. He was supposed to go to town, get used to his avatar's movements and gather some supplies.

"Follow me," the old man said.

Then he started walking towards the buildings in the distance, his shadow lengthening in the harsh sun.

Charles didn’t follow him. He didn't have to go, of course. He could just quit.

This wasn't the game he'd agreed to try. Heck, he couldn't even figure out what it was. It wasn't a glitch. It was an entirely different game, one that looked old and outdated. On that involved a ton of boring walking and weird glitches.

How had this happened? He was curious. He couldn't deny that.

Sure, he could quit, like that Virus person wanted him to do. But..he never quit. He always played through, no matter how terrible the game was. He always stuck it out.

And Scales was somewhere in here. He couldn’t quit before his friend. He’d never hear the end of it, particularly if Scales turned out to be Virus, which seemed likely. Scales would never let him forget he’d been scared off by a little crow skull.

He followed the old man, boots sinking in the sand.

But the walk went pretty quick, thanks to the boost. They had to jump a ravine, which taught him the jumping sequence. They had to avoid some tumbleweeds, which taught him how to move sideways. He had to shoot a rock, which taught him that he needed a weapons upgrade pronto because his avatar’s revolver had great aim, but wimpy firepower.

Hopefully, the blacksmith's shop would be able to fix that.

By the time they reached the town fo Scorch Gulch, he was dangerously low on hit points—those tumbleweeds could do real damage when they hit you—but he knew all the basic moves.

"I bet you want to head for the saloon," the old man said. "You should have enough money for a healing potion and some water. It should get you back to your maximum health."

Yeah, probably just enough money for that. That was the magic of the tutorial. It kind of walked out through the game and gave you the basics for survival and little else.

The town was your stereotypical Western ghost town—a couple of wood buildings, a sandy street, and a pair of bored-looking horses. One of the buildings had a sign that read "Saloon."

"Let's go get some water," the old man said.

They headed for the saloon. It had, of course, swinging half doors and he got a little thrill stepping through them. The bartender stood behind the bar, polishing a glass. He was dressed in a white shirt and black pants. A group of cowboys were playing cards in a corner. One was dressed in a long, embroidered overcoat with a cloth hat and a tie, and was likely a gambler character.

Charles examined the characters. “I don’t suppose one of you is called Virus by any chance?”

He got no response. They were all NPCs who had limited dialogue.

“No one by that name here,” the bartender said. “Just Gambler, Deadmark, and Sneakerette, our regulars.”

"Those gentlemen look like bad news," the old man said. "But you could earn some gold playing against them."

Ah, so that was how he would earn money for the potions and weapons. He had to play poker. That sounded boring. Why would anyone put a card game into a first person shooter game?

"Or," the old man continued with a smirk. "You could try to steal it."

Charles smiled. Now that was more like it. Let's learn some stealth moves.

They stepped up to the bar. Different bottles appeared in the air--water, lager...cactus juice?

"Nothing restores HP like cactus juice," the old man said.

He wasn't wrong. The cactus juice would give him 50 HP. It would also cost 10 gold nuggets, which was all he had in his inventory.

He pulled up his inventory and clicked on the gold nuggets. The gold symbol disappears and was replaced by the cactus juice bottle. He clicked on it and watched his HP shoot up.

Well, that was all the gold he had.

He glanced at the card table. It was time to get some more.

He examined the players from under the rim of his hat. The Gambler was a new character, but the others weren’t. The woman, dressed in a red Victorian gown with a matching cowboy hat, resembled one of the the Legion of the Universe characters, Sneakerette. Maybe it was an older version of the character. If so, she’d be super agile and cunning.

Not the best theft victim one could pick.

The Gambler was also not a good choice. He looked sneaky and hyper-aware. Charles wasn’t sure what the consequences would be if he was caught stealing, but he didn’t really want to find out this early in the game. The Gambler was also a purple character. Charles’ gold cowboy would be at a disadvantage.

That left the third player.

The large, blond man looked very intimidating. Like the woman, he bore a more-than-passing resemblance to one of the Legion of the Universe characters, Deadmark. If he was an older Deadmark model, he’s be strong and quick, but not too bright.

And, thus, the least likely to notice the loss of the gold bag next to his feet. He was also gold, just like Charles’ Ranger. That meant Charles had no advantage over him. Not good, but nowhere near as dangerous as the Gambler’s purple energy or Sneakerette’s bloody backstab.

If he sneaked past the table and snagged a bag—

He jumped as something hit the bar next to him with a resounding thwack. He turned to see a long, thin knife with a carved jade handle sticking out of the wood, still vibrating from the strength of the throw.

“Not so fast, cowboy,” a drawling voice said.