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Inside. December, 1983.
In the beginning, there was nothing.
Wait, this has been done before. Skipping ahead:
Inside. December, 2002.
Pandaemonium stares intently as darkness says, not just a bad guy. the bad guy.
“I see,” Pandaemonium says gravely.
[image forthcoming]
Nope, that’s too far. Backing up a bit:
Inside. June, 2001.
The featureless void begins to shimmer as the world takes shape. Ground appears, sprouts grass, and races off to form a horizon, as a daylit sky spreads up above. Clouds pop in, trees pop up, and hills ripple into place in the distance. Birdsong is carried on the gentle summer breeze. A technomancer and a ninja stand alone on the grassy plain, not a soul to be seen for miles around.
Dale asks derisively, “You started us in the middle of a grassy field?”
Deirdre stares for a moment. “I mean, sure? Where would you have started, a tavern?”
“Yes!” Dale grabs his hair in fistfuls. “Then we could get information! Lodging! DRINKS!”
“They won’t let us drink, dude. We’re seventeen.”
“Wait, what?!” Dale nearly doubles over in hair-pulling incredulity. “You mean to tell me... that you created an entire world... where literally anything you can imagine is possible... and you set the drinking age at twenty-one?!”
“I - yes.” Deirdre purses her lips, furrows her brow, and contemplates her life choices. “That is exactly what I did,” she says, deflated. Then she mumbles, “I got the important things right, though.”
“Like what?”
“Well, we’ve got great stats for first-level characters. The monetary unit is dollars, not ‘gold pieces’ or whatever. Everyone speaks English - they probably don’t call it English, though, since there’s no England.”
Dale takes a deep breath and says, “OK. This is fine. Y’know what, I’ma just pop back home, grab a beer from the fridge, and sit here enjoying it while you figure out our first move.” He turns around, only to see more landscape. “Uh, how do we leave?”
“I... had not thought of that. Wait, your mom lets you drink?”
“Focus, Dee! How do we get back home? You know, to our families? Can’t you make, I don’t know, a Conjure Exit Portal spell or something?”
Deirdre looks at her character sheet before replying.
“I’ve got good news and bad news,” she says after a beat. Dale gives an exaggerated groan and gestures for her to make with the explaining. “OK, it’s like this: I do have the ability to make new spells, but it costs a ton of mana to do it. And I’m completely out - looks like I burned it all to cast Summon World.”
“What? How much fuckin’ mana did you give yourself?”
“I set it to 986,000 MP.”
“And all you get for that is a lousy planet? Christ, you have got to work on your skill balance. What did it cost to summon me?”
Deirdre says, “Nothing. Summon Best Friend is free - and this planet is perfectly fine for our purposes!”
“I bet it is,” Dale sighs. “But aren’t you all-powerful? Can’t you just re-write this reality?”
“I mean - kind of? Look, I think the problem here is that I summoned the world after our stats were set, but I also made the editing abilities expensive so I wouldn’t use them frivolously. So I was omnipotent, then merely very potent, and now I’m… umm, out of mana.”
"You mean, 'impotent'?"
“Shut up.”
Dale says with a giggle, “So we’re fucked.”
“Basically,” Deirdre admits with a nod.
“OK. This is fine. But for posterity, I want it known that this is all your fault, and not even my quick thinking could get us out of it.”
“Duly noted,” Deirdre concedes. “Can we move on now?”
“Yes. But on that note - move on to where?”
They roll Observation, and both spot a plume of smoke in the far distance. Deirdre says, “I guess that way,” and they head off. “And, uh, not to be a bummer or anything, but-”
“What now,” Dale asks.
“Well, we don’t have any food or water, and we don’t know what we’ll run into along the way, so we should probably try to conserve our energy.”
Over the next couple of hours, they enter a wooded area, cross over a stream (“Should we take a drink,” Dale asks. “Different question, same answer: do you like dysentery,” Deirdre answers), and stumble upon a road. No longer able to see the plume of smoke through the tree cover, Deirdre takes ten on a Wilderness check to orient herself and be reasonably sure they’re headed in the right direction. Two or three miles on, they come to a crossroads where an old man in traveling clothes is seated on a large rock near a signpost. A leather pack is on the ground next to him, and he hails the young adventurers as they approach.
“Hail, young men! Spare a moment to help an old man?”
Deirdre does not bother to correct him, and asks, “What do you need, sir?” Dale rolls his eyes.
“Well,” the old man says, “I was making my way into town with this delivery, but I’m not as hardy as I used to be. At this rate, it would be well into the night by the time I arrive, and I don’t want to be on the road after dark. But if I head back now, I might be able to get back home before sunset.”
If you think they should ASK THE OLD MAN FOR FOOD AND DRINK, then click here.
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