Chapter 2 #2
I can’t sleep. I lay in bed thinking about how her eyes are bright in the wrong way—glossy with illness and vacancy.
“Lauren,” she’d said when I visited her today, but nothing more, and I imagine that maybe there was more to say.
So much more. That she’s screaming it all in her head, but her brain won’t let her say anything other than one word anymore.
I can’t tell if I love or hate that it’s my name.
If I was a hero in one of my games, I could save her.
Wait…games…What day is it?
I grab my phone to look. 1:23 am, Saturday, August 5. Legends of Sacrifice just released an hour ago.
Working in a tech support call center means my hours accommodate our customers. So, my weekends are Thursday and Friday. I don’t have time to play my new game now, but…
Fuck it. I’ll call in sick. I just need a day to forget the way my life has gone to shit in the last couple of months.
I go through all the steps to download the game. Every second that passes, that progress bar seems to take longer and longer to fill up. At last, the menu comes into view, and I press play.
The prologue cutscene is glorious. Dramatic music plays as Peripeteia, the fictional land inspired by Greek mythological locations, spreads across my screen. A fire-breathing dragon chases after a Pegasus over an orchard of golden apple trees.
Wait, do dragons fly in Greek myths? Lauren, just enjoy this. It’s inspired by mythology, not married to it. Let the game makers have a little creative freedom.
The viewpoint changes, and there’s now an incredibly handsome man staring at the chase scene in the distant sky. His dark features are melancholy. Ash, mud, and blood cover his armor. He tosses his sword to the ground and falls to his knees weeping.
A beautiful woman in regal attire picks it up.
He lifts his face to look at her. “Never again,” she says, her voice seething with the same fury I can see in her eyes.
She steps away from him and into a hall of marble floors and columns.
There are others that dress in robes like her, all of them sitting on thrones.
“There will be more,” a man says in a consoling manner.
“I hope so,” she says, sitting on the throne next to him. Her eyes are now filled with deep sadness, and she gazes upon the bloody sword she’d just taken from the man. “If not…Oh, Zeus…”
He squeezes her hand and looks at the others. “There will be other heroes eager to fight in your name,” he says in a voice that commands their attention and respect. “You must aid them. Without their offerings, Olympus will fall.”
The scene fades away as the music swells in an even more epic and thunderous beat. The title, Legends of Sacrifice, appears with the play button underneath it.
My hands shake with excitement as I move my mouse to click on the button. My breath becomes quick and shallow with impatience while I wait for the loading screen to hurry up already.
Finally, the character creator comes up. “Welcome, adventurer!” a voice greets. “Who are you?”
Immediately, I’m overwhelmed by all the options on my plate. Character creation is one of my favorite parts of the RPG experience, but I get analysis paralysis every time. Everything has to be perfect, everything.
I go through every class, deliberating what would be the most fun.
Usually, I play a caster. Who doesn’t love flinging fire spells at baddies?
But I’m not feeling it right now. It’s not enough.
I want to hurt some digital monster as much as the world is hurting me.
For that reason, I choose pugilist monk because goddamn, I want to throat punch someone, even if it is just pretend.
Now, I need to decide on a race. They all have different strengths and weaknesses, which seems racist as fuck, but whatever.
It’s a game. The more I look at my options, the more I scoff.
Halflings? Really? I thought this was supposed to be Greek mythology stuff.
I remind myself it’s the most hyped game for a reason, though.
Orcs seem to align best with monks, but I just can’t do it.
They’re so ugly. Call me a vain little girl, but if I’m going to stare at my character running all over the place, I want her ass to be spectacular.
Elves are beautiful of course, but they’re built for spell casting, not fist fighting.
In the end, I choose the vanilla option and go with playing as a human. Yawn.
I make her as pretty as possible. I choose the supermodel body preset and give her the very-not-human traits of purple hair and eyes. Sticking with the color theme, I name her Violet.
When I hit the “Time for Adventure” button, the loading screen comes up again. This time it seems to take even longer. What the fuck is the issue? I just want to play already. The moment I see a peek of a grassy field, the game crashes on me.
I throw off my headset. “God fucking damn it!” I yell at my computer, like it can hear me. “Can’t I just have this? Please?”
I take a deep breath.
Lauren, it’s just a game. Sit back down and reload it.
I take my inner voice’s advice, and it works. The world pops up again. There are green hills as far as I can see. There’s a farmer reaping his wheat. He waves at me, but a quest notification to head to the tavern steals my attention.
So far, this seems more like any other fantasy RPG than one that incorporates Greek mythology, but it’s gorgeous. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such realism in a game before.
Maybe that’s why my PC crashed. It can’t handle this game.
I head to the tavern. It’s packed with locals drinking, eating, and socializing. I’m grateful this is just a game because in the real world, I’d be noping right out of there, quest or no quest.
Leaning against the wall on the far left side is the same handsome man from the prologue cutscene. He’s moping over his drink. There’s a glowing blue orb above his head that I assume means he’s the person I need to talk to.
I click on him, and he says, “Hello, there! I haven’t seen you here before. Are you an adventurer?” I read the caption below his face. His name is Alexander, and the answer options are:
1. Yes.
2. No.
3. I’m a chimera, actually.
I choose the first option.
“I was once an adventurer,” he says, “but the gods have cursed me to never lift a blade again.”
I remember the cutscene. So that’s what that was about.
“Because of Phoebe,” Alexander continues.
“She was the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, but my thirst for glory made me careless.
When I set fire to the nest of harpies, I didn’t realize they had kidnapped her and hidden her there.
Now, she’s dead and by my hand. For my sin, I can never touch my sword again. ”
Yikes. That hits hard.
My mind flits to earlier in the day, watching Mom stare vacantly at the TV in her room. I’d put on that competitive dancing show she and I liked to watch together. It might as well have been off. I didn’t realize she’d been having strokes. If I had known…If I had known…
I shake myself out of it. This game is supposed to be a distraction.
“My love had a locket,” Alexander says. “It’s still in the ruins of the harpy’s nest. Can you retrieve it for me? Without my sword, I cannot fight any beasts that may arrive, so I have no way to get it myself.”
Yes, Alexander. I absolutely fucking can get that locket. I can’t do shit in real life, but in your world, I’m capable of anything.
Time to throat punch a harpy!