Split Revised -Chapter 1

Dear Son,
Things at home aren’t doing too well, your father has recently been retrenched and we might need to tighten our belts for a while until he can find a new job. That being said, we’re dipping into our savings, and you’ll need to find a part time job to earn yourself some allowance in the meantime. Think of it as a chance to build some character of sorts.
We’re going to be trying to find a new job for your father, but until then, you’re on your own. Take care and study hard dear, hang in there!
Love,
Mom

“...and just sign here Mister Tan, and we’ll be done.”
I looked over the paper one last time. Though I was fairly certain that I was missing something in the fine print, my greed got the better of me as my hand betrayed my state of contemplation, signing the form for me.

“Fantastic,” the man said, straightening the papers, “Just head down to the first floor, your set will be waiting for you at the reception.”

“Thank you.” I replied, smiling. Standing up from the rather uncomfortable plastic chair, I briskly made my way out to the elevator lobby, where I quickly caught a passing lift down to the first floor.

The lobby looked like any other typical office building lobby that one might imagine, the cool, white and grey colour scheme of the interior giving off a rather relaxed feel as the sounds of water running from a miniature fountain emphasised the effect. Feeling rather out of place in a polo tee and jeans, I quickly slipped past all the businesswear-clad people around me and high-tailed it to the receptionist’s desk out in the front. The lady manning it was dressed in a dark red jacket and a matching skirt, speaking softly into a phone as I tapped on the bell at the counter.

“Ah, you must be Mister Tan, yes?” she said with a smile, “I was told you’d be taking one of these off our hands?”

The lady hoisted a rather inconspicuous-looking cardboard box onto the counter, sliding it over to me with a couple more forms to sign, acknowledging that I was now in possession of what would come to be a genre-breaker in the gaming industry. “Ah, and do remember to check in with us every week or so, yes?” she said, pushing up her glasses as she read through the papers, “An email on any issues and feedback about the device is generally enough.”

I nodded stupidly and let her dismiss me with a wave of her hand, to which I grabbed the box and carefully brought it with me out onto the street, where I flagged a cab down to bring me back to my apartment complex.

As I was driven home by a rather bored looking cabby, I mulled over the brown box in my hands. I couldn’t believe my own luck right now, given the circumstances. For starters, I was testing a new device in the field of gaming while testing the first game designed for it, and secondly, I was being paid a solid grand to do so monthly, right up to the point where they would release the game. A perfect win-win for me, given my current financial situation. With this job, not only was I able to enjoy a video game and earn money from it, but I was also able to do it from the confines of my apartment. That meant no running about and trying to make time to travel somewhere to work, I could just use it in my free time and give feedback as and when I pleased, provided I met a minimum weekly quota of feedback emails.

Simple enough, I figured, and with the sheer amount of money being made from it, who wouldn’t want it? Probably a lot of people, actually. Virtual reality was, at the time, in its infancy stages, and with  all sorts of uncertainties, nobody could say for sure if using it would have any long term effects on the user, assuming that it didn’t turn them into a vegetable first.

The moment I hit home, I locked the door behind me and gently placed the box on the floor. I ran over to the kitchen to grab myself a knife for all practical intents and purposes, before returning to the box.
Sweat drops and tension. Those were all that I could feel as I stood there, knife in hand, staring at the brown box in front of me. Gripping the knife firmly, I plunged it downwards and sliced through the cardboard with swift sawing motions. The came tape off, allowing me to unfold it, and with careful hands, I lifted the device out from the sea of packaging peanuts that housed it.

Staring back at me was the first in a new generation of console gaming, something that would revolutionise the way we played games on a whole. The Verann Mark I. A smooth, grey, helmet-like device comprising of  impossible amounts of circuitry and innovations over the last five years, the cold metal object that I held in my hands was a dream soon to be realised by many of this age. Its purpose was simply to function as a custom interface device attached to one’s computer, made for the sole purpose of playing the new fantasy mass multiplayer online role playing game title to hit the stores in the near future; Vernia.

In a sense, Vernia was a pioneer in its own field as well. While not exactly being the first of such games, it was definitely the first to fully integrate a fully virtual reality interface, literally putting players in the game itself.

Fumbling around awkwardly with the device and nearly dropping it from my sweat-drenched hands, I spent a couple of minutes wrestling with the back of my desktop as the shifting and unplugging of a couple of wires and a generous amount of swearing oversaw the installation of the device on my desktop computer.

A quick download and a couple of minutes later, the game’s client and the supporting program for the game itself were being installed onto my computer as well while I watched on impatiently, cold drink in hand as I sweated out the heat of the warm season.

The installation finished itself with a chime from my laptop and I sat up in my chair, putting the helmet on with as much enthusiasm as a kid running around an amusement park for the first time. Tightening straps and securing it to my head as directed by the setup instructions, the helmet calibrated itself to me. I felt lightheaded and my vision swam as the helmet began a neural link to me, the sensors detecting and ‘latching’ themselves to the electromagnetic pulses in my  brain. There was a whirring sound as the helmet came to life and did what it whatever else it needed to, before a notification on my desktop told me that it was ready.

Pretty cool, I thought to myself. Steeling myself for what would be the first step in towards a new generation of gaming, I opened up the game client and launched my game, the helmet’s internal workings humming to life as my vision blurred, then blacked out completely.

-o.=.o-

The transition to virtual reality certainly wasn't quite as fabulous as they had made it out in the magazine articles and showcase videos on Youtube, as my first experience upon regaining consciousness was the feeling that my head was about to explode. I tumbled around in nothingness for a bit before kissing the ground with a rather solid thump; I was on solid ground now, face first in what smelled like grass and dirt. I pushed myself off and felt the texture of the grass beneath my hands as I did so. A little too smooth to be authentic to the grass found in my locale, but still realistic. I blinked, looking around, coming face to face with a large, stone archway in front of me. Adorning the arc was the phrase “Create Your Character”, accompanied by a shimmering portal that revealed an mountainous region behind it.

          I made a move towards it, and as soon as I tried,  I was lifted up by an unknown force, suspended in mid-air. “Hey, what the!” was all I could manage before a small menu floated in front of me, labelled, “Select race”.

I stared at the menu awkwardly, stretching a hand out to touch it, but the menu remained firmly out of my reach, yet tauntingly close as the shimmering mass of words in front of me as it lounged around idly, floating a smidge too far from me for me to reach. The menu, in all its glorious, inanimate state, seemed to be mocking me, as if telling me that I was forgetting something.
                   
           Show me something, I thought exasperatedly, hoping that there would’ve been a hint or the like popping up. Instead, a small list of races popped in front of me, each with a little picture beside it to showcase the race.

           Curiosity piqued, I scrolled through the list with a stray thought, watching as previews of myself appeared on the other side of the portal in various flavours of man and elf alike, floating equidistant from the portal as I. “Show me something interesting,” I said to the menu, feeling a little more adventurous, “these races are too generic.”

To my surprise, smatterings of other races began to appear on the list as well, from goblins to ogres to treants to even some of the more generic forms of wildlife. “Let’s go with something powerful and tanky.” I muttered, waving a hand at the list of available races.

To that the game seemed to narrow down the choices for me immediately and a quadrupedal, green dragon stared back at me from the other side if the shimmering portal, another preview of myself. It looked like a fairly stereotypical western dragon, being green, white and bearing rather a simple appearance of a pair of straight horns and a ridge of spikes travelling down its back. Finned ears and a pair of wings accompanied these features, receiving similar highlights of white that match its underbelly and horns.

           In an instant, I found myself taking a liking to it. The game of Vernia needed no further request for confirmation as with a blink of my eyes, I found myself staring at... myself, or at least, a reflection of myself, the image of the dragon having disappeared. I watched though, as the reflection slowly begin to fade away into nothingness, upon which I was roughly deposited onto the ground again, leaving me yelping in surprise I fell a few meters down to the earth, landing on my tail.

           “Ow... my tail...” I moaned, “Wait- my tail?!”

           I stood up, ear fins perking up as I did so. I froze. I had... ear fins? Slowly looking down, I looked at my hands, realising that they were no longer hands, but a pair of scaly, clawed paws. I flexed the digits on my paws whilst staring at them like an idiot. It felt strange, yet at the same time, completely natural to have them, like I’d had them all my life.

           I took in a deep breath and took note of the scents of the world around me. From the crisp, fresh smell of the evergreens nearby to the musty, earthy smell of the soil beneath my paws, everything seemed to come in together like a puzzle clicking into place. I could feel my new tail behind me, tapping against the loose soil; my wings, rested upon my back. Too awesome.

                   Blinking, my thoughts drifted to how I was going to log out eventually. As if responding to my thoughts, a collapsed menu floated into view, before nestling itself at the corner of my eye where I’d be able to call on it at will.

                   “Enjoying the sights I see.” Someone said from behind.

                   I yelped and nearly jumped out of my scales, stumbling forward awkwardly. Pulling my muzzle out of the grass, I turned around to face the source of the voice, and was met with a human, roughly up to the height of my muzzle, clad in plated metal armour and armed with a broadsword. He carried a knapsack over his shoulder and bore an expression of mild amusement, evident by his smirk, watching as I aligned myself to face him.

                   “I welcome you to Vernia, dragon,” The man said with a grin, showing off his flawless pearly whites, “I am Salenthor the Greater, and I bear the task of introducing new players to their appropriate starter area. If you would like, I could show you to yours.”

                   “Well, uh, that would be great, I guess.” I replied back, giving the draconic equivalent of a shrug.

                   “Wonderful, follow me,” He replied, walking off towards the forest treeline, “And do keep up.”

                   Before I could reply an further, Salenthor was already way ahead of me, leading the way in a sort of brisk but relaxed gait as his sword dangled out of its hilt from his back, clanking softly against his grey-plated armour that shined in what I assumed to be the late afternoon sun. As we walked through the forest, the sun beat down on us, and while Salenthor was beginning to sweat, I was feeling oddly... pleasant from the warmth.

                   We went deeper into the forest, headed to what I assumed to be a colony of dragons living around here somewhere, and that thought eventually spawned into a reality as I began to be able to make out silhouettes of dragons laying around under the shade of the trees in the area ahead of me.

                   “Here we are,” he said quietly, wiping the sweat off his brow, “They’ve been expecting you to join them...”

                   I was about to take another step forward when my forepaw stepped in something wet. Upon looking down, I l realised that I’d just stepped into a small puddle of dark red liquid, and it was then and there that I’d realised that something was really, really wrong.

                   “...in hell, of course.” Salenthor finished.

                   Without a moment’s notice, the sound of a blade being unsheathed sung out and I instinctively threw myself away from him, just in time as the blade of the great sword  buried itself in the soft earth below, splashing mud and blood all over it.

                   “Fast.” Salenthor remarked as I spun myself around to face him, “But I assure you, you’re not the only one who’s managed to dodge that.”

                    Salenthor swung again in a wide arc this time, and I made a quiet ‘meep’ as I backed up. In return, he took a step forward at me, raising his sword again. My heads up display brought up a health and stamina meter, putting it to the side of my field of view as in indication of my own health.

                   “Die!” Salenthor shouted,  his name, level and a health bar appearing over his head as he charged me, revealing that he was in fact, a player and not an NPC. Fumbling awkwardly in my quadrupedal stance, I tried to dodge left, but was too slow this time and ended up with him managing to knock me onto my back with a force that must’ve been equivalent to a bus slamming into me.

                   I snarled and let instinct take over. With a fair bit of effort, I threw him off me, getting back on my paws and growling.

                   “Not yet as dull as the others I’ve slain,” My opponent remarked, “But you’ll need a lot more to make it out of here alive!”

                   Salenthor charged me again, this time, making a sidestep that ended with me headbutting air while he took the chance to slash me in the flank. I hissed as the sword skipped over my scales and took a few off, leaving the leathery flesh beneath exposed. I rotated to face him, not wanting to let him get me in the side again. I looked at my heads-up display and checked his level; realising that it was going to be an uphill fight for me. While Salenthor was a mere level five, I was a relatively helpless level one beginner, trying to survive  the open world setup that I’d been thrown into.

                   Salenthor took another broad, horizontal swing at me, this time, nicking me at the tip of my muzzle. I hissed as blood trickled; that had actually hurt! Salenthor and I stopped, circling each other slowly. As we made rounds around each other, I eyed my surroundings, realising that those were not dragons laying in the shade, but rather, corpses of dragons, presumably slain by Salenthor as well.

                   As I contemplated the implications of such a revelation, Salenthor punched my with the pommel of his sword, sending me staggering back against a tree. I hissed again and opened my mouth, unexpectedly letting out a torrent of acid at Salenthor before a feeling of wooziness overtook me, sending me to the floor.

                   “Discovered the breath weapons I see,” Salenthor remarked, disposing of his melting chest plate, “As you can see, you may have it, but you can’t keep it up for very long...”

                   I gasped for breath and rolled to my left as the sword went straight into the ground next to me with a dull thud. Salenthor yanked the sword out and immediately swung it in a wide arc again, and I responded by knocking the sword out of the swing by hitting it on its flat end. The action shaved a few of my hitpoints off the meter on my heads-up display, but I was otherwise mostly alright, save the partially dizzy state that I was in now.

                   “Just let me get the damn kill,” Salenthor said, now sounding slightly annoyed, “You’re already screwed, and you can always make a new character.”

                   “So can you.” I replied, swiping at his unprotected chest. Salenthor howled in pain and staggered backwards as my claws left ragged gashes where they had struck, a nice set of four, almost-parallel lines. I took the opportunity to get back up as he was momentarily distracted, and jumped at him, headbutting him into a tree.

                   I took my chance. Rearing back, I rammed him head-on in the chest, producing cracking sounds and a spray of blood as the wind was knocked out of him. The warm, metallic-smelling liquid sprayed me in the face as the pain registered in my head, and I too fell over dazed but alive, unlike the body of the man slumped against the wall.