《Vindication Online》 Chapter 1: Roll on Two The electric chair is a hell of a way to log into an all-immersive video game. At least, I hope it logs me in. Something like one in three inmates die when making the execution jump. It''s a fancy way for society to say, "Let''s fry your brains out¨C if you die, justice is served. If you survive, we''ll shackle your conscious for eternity for our own sick entertainment." Vindication Online: keeping the death in Death Row. But that''s okay. As long as there''s a part of me left, I''ve still got a chance. That¡¯s the last thing that crossed my mind before the computerized voice called out the warden¡¯s last command. ¡°Initializing on-boarding sequence and inmate termination process. Roll. On. Two.¡± Incredible pain blasts through my head like ten thousand needles stabbing me all at once. I open my mouth to scream. I can¡¯t open my mouth. My teeth squeeze together so hard they feel like they might shatter and my entire body flexes against the electrical Every single muscle in my body wants to tear away from my bones. And then¡­ nothing. No pain, no chair, no lights. Nothing. *** Everything is dark. It¡¯s suddenly hot and I don¡¯t know why it¡¯s hot. At least they¡¯d had an air vent in the execution chamber ¡ª probably to keep the smell of me cooking from stinking up the place. Something presses against my face. It feels coarse and gritty like I¡¯ve passed out on a beach somewhere in the sand. But that¡¯s impossible. I¡¯m in the chair. Panic floods my mind. When are they going to shock me again? I never want to feel pain like that again as long as I live ¡ª which is ironic, because it was supposed to kill me. Why am I not dead? The backs of my eyelids go from black to orange-red, like I¡¯ve closed my eyes while staring straight into the sun. My mind tries to sort this out as sounds flood my ears, too. It¡¯s a dull clinking sound, rhythmic, like someone smacking the sidewalk with a hammer. Every once in a while, I heard a grunt and a different, lighter clinking sound.Are those chainshear? I gasp, drawing in a deep, ragged breath and opening my eyes at the same time. I¡¯m lying in the sand and the sun is baking me like a pan of Thanksgiving yams. A glance down reveals I¡¯m wearing loose, shredded pants made out of canvas or another unpleasant fabric. I¡¯m shirtless immediately realize all of my tattoos are gone. Only then do I realize that I¡¯m dead. At least my body is, anyway. I force the lingering mists of confusion from my mind. I¡¯ve made it, I¡¯ve crossed over into Vindication Online. ¡°Hey!¡± A female voice shouts from behind me somewhere. I roll over just as a silhouette comes between me and the sun. Squinting and holding up my hand, I make out a woman with a deep tan and auburn dreadlocks. She¡¯s wearing rags that don¡¯t leave much to the imagination and holding a pickax. Her expression doesn''t leave much to the imagination as to her first impression of me. ¡°Get your ass up! The quarry guard will be by again soon and if he catches you lying down we¡¯re all going to get the whip. And I¡¯ll be damned if I get flayed open by some stupid inmate who just rode the lightning.¡± I push myself to my feet and hold up a hand to take in my surroundings while adjusting to the bright sun. I¡¯m in a pit of some kind, about a hundred yards across, maybe twice that in length and surrounded on all sides by cliffs. To the north, I can just make out the corner of a domed building reflecting in the sunlight somewhere behind the rise of the cliff face. There are two more slaves or prisoners or whatever swinging at the ore a few yards away but if there¡¯s anything else to see, it¡¯s blocked by the outcrop of rocks to the northwest of us. I can¡¯t figure out what anyone would be mining for out here ¡ª it just looks like rock to me. ¡°Grab your pick,¡± the woman frowns at my deeper with her bright green eyes and jerk her head to the ground. I¡¯ve played enough games to wonder if this is some kind of unfriendly tutorial, so I do what she says and grab the tool. ¡°Now,¡± the woman says, lowering her voice. ¡°Just keep swinging away at that ore and mind your own damned business. You chose a pretty good time to get zapped into Vindication Online, noob. We¡¯re about to get the hell out of this shit hole.¡± It¡¯s my turn to be pissed. ¡°I don¡¯t know who you are but don¡¯t call me a noob, lady. I ¡ª¡± She¡¯s not listening and in the middle of my rant, I figure out why. Two men ride up on powerful horses, jerking them to a halt a few feet away from the other two prisoners, the biggest African American man I¡¯ve ever seen in my life and a Latino woman who swings her pickax at a clump of rock like it¡¯s the face of some ex-lover who cheated on her birthday.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it One of the riders unfurls a long, barbed whip with a flick. I blink as a name appears in neon text above his head: The text fades away as he starts to speak. ¡°Back to work, scum! Lord Sakariss himself commanded me to flay you within an inch of death if the next shipment isn¡¯t a full load!¡± My mind races. I¡¯m still disoriented from ¡ª well, from dying. I have no idea how Vindication Online works. The only people that play it are dead just like me and have no way to create offline forums or wikis. I don¡¯t even understand how the UI works. Aside from the floating name above the Slave Master, I would have never known I was in a video game. ¡°How about a little break, soldier?¡± The woman with the dreadlocks does a hell of a job sauntering up to the man. Even in rags, she possesses a fluid grace that can only be described as alluring. Maybe not on the Slave Master, though. If there¡¯s such a thing as Charisma in this world, dreadlocks doesn¡¯t have enough to distract him. He scowls down at her. ¡°I ought to have your tongue for your impudence, woman,¡± he growls. ¡°Keep your dirty slave hands away ¡ª¡± A chunk of rock the size of a bowling ball collides with the Slave Master¡¯s head. He falls sideways off of his horse and dreadlocks grabs the reins before the horse can panic and bolt. A glance to the right tells me the big dude that looks like he could play defensive end for an NFL team was the thrower of the rock. Now my heart is racing along with my mind. Was that an NPC? Is he dead? Are there more? Certainly one can¡¯t have been the only thing guarding this entire quarry. The three others racing away from the body are all I need to know at the moment, though. Still having no clue what the plan is, I run to catch up. As I pass the I can see he¡¯s already deteriorating into the ground. One moment he was a dead but intact body and the next he¡¯s a pile of rags, bones and bodily sludge melting into the earth. Dead then. What the hell is this place? The horse just stands there and looks at me, as if it¡¯s my fault his rider got his head caved in and now he¡¯s stuck alone in this god-forsaken hole in the ground. ¡°Hurry up!¡± Dreadlocks shouts of her shoulder. ¡°Good luck,¡± I mutter to the horse. Instinct tells me I¡¯d be better off to stick with the other three slaves rather than trying to ride out of Dodge on the horse. Plus, I have no idea if I even have a Riding skill in the first place. Dreadlocks shouts again, from a decent distance away. ¡°If you don¡¯t keep up, we¡¯ll leave your ass here to quarry bitcoin for the next thousand years!¡± It sounds like my last warning. I might not know anything else, but that sounds good enough to help me choose a side. I redouble my efforts, realizing in the back of my mind that I¡¯m getting tired. Again, there¡¯s no way to look at any sort of UI, but beyond that, this feels more like reality than a game. Enough that I don¡¯t what to find out what dying might feel like. We wind our way through the shallow canyons and slots cut into the rock. As I run, I glance around, expecting to see more foes descending on us at any moment. But no one is there. Continuing for ¡ª oh, I don¡¯t know, maybe a couple hundred yards ¡ª we suddenly burst out into the open. A good fifty yards away, a pair of swivel their horses around and cry out. Then they charge straight for us. ¡°You two, take the one on the left,¡± the big man shouts in a deep, husky voice. ¡°We¡¯ll take the right! Careful ¡ª three good strikes and you¡¯re dead.¡± I don¡¯t know how Mr. Defensive Lineman knows this, but I¡¯ve got no time to question. And then I realize I left my pickax back where I¡¯d spawn. Maybe Dreadlocks is right ¡ª that was certainly a noob move. I¡¯m rustier than I think. The bears dow at a full gallop, riding straight for us, his barbed whip held high. I start to yell at Dreadlocks to get out of the way, but she¡¯s already in action, snatching fist-sized rocks off the ground and chucking them at the foe riding down on us. As the Slave Master closes in, an idea flashes across my mind, my old battle instincts kicking in. Screaming, I run to meet the rider. He leans over in the saddle and his whip flashes out ¡ª I throw up my hand and the leather curls around me, the barbs of metal braided into the strands cutting into my arms. Instead of trying to pull away, however, I grasp the whip with both hands. I yank with all my might, as the momentum of the horse jerks me toward the rider and the horse¡¯s thundering hooves. I have no hope of stopping the charging horse, but that¡¯s not my plan. The Slave Master shouts and topples out of the saddle, landing hard on the ground as I go sprawling, face first. Dazed, I roll over. Everything aches and burns. No ¡ª everything hurts like hell. Through my rattled vision, I see the the Slave Master rise. A shadow appears above the man. A moment later, Dreadlocks lets out a vicious shriek and impales the Slave Master¡¯s head on her pickax. His head jerks back at an unnatural angle and the metal spike wrecks the same as if it had been a ripe watermelon. His body twitches for a few seconds then goes still. Groaning, I pull myself to my feet. The whip is still wrapped around and jabbed into my arm. I grit my teeth and unwind it, wincing every time one of the barbs comes free. I still have no idea what my health points might be, but I feel like I¡¯ve just been thrown into a wood chipper then run over by a semi. Blood drips down my arm and I struggle to open and close my hand. My shoulder burns but luckily, I don''t think it''s dislocated. I haven¡¯t taken a virtual beating like this for years. It¡¯s been even longer since I faced one in the real world. That¡¯s more what this feels like. Points for realism, Vindication Online. If this is what I¡¯m in for, it¡¯s going to be a long eternity. This might be a game, but it¡¯s a little too realistic for my taste. Then again, I¡¯m pretty sure the developers weren¡¯t worried about turning down pain settings for a bunch of criminals. Dreadlocks spits at the disintegrating body of the Slave Master. Looking around, I see the other two, the other woman and big dude, alive and mostly well. Their opponent is dead as well. Now what? We¡¯re still trapped in the quarry. My face must look puzzled. Dreadlocks waves at me impatiently. ¡°Come on! We can¡¯t stay here ¡ª they¡¯ll respawn in a few minutes.¡± Willing my aching body to move, I follow as the other three set off to the north. We round a bend in the cliffs and the giant domed building comes back into view. The massive structure fills the entire mouth of the canyon before us, at least a hundred yards across and so tall it rises almost twice as high as the surrounding cliffs. The entire roof glitters with beaten copper. Colored tiles and polished marble make up the main portion of the structure ¡ª deep blue, turquoise and yellow. The entire palace ¡ª I don¡¯t know what else you¡¯d call something this big and fancy ¡ª is one of the most spectacular structures I¡¯ve ever seen. Why anyone would build it in in the middle of this wasteland is a mystery to me. ¡°Where are we going?¡± I ask between breaths as we continue at a steady run toward the palace. Dreadlocks ignores me but the big dude pauses long enough to point at a pair of doors nestled between two of the palace¡¯s columns. ¡°There ¡ª time to unlock your class.¡± Chapter 2: Secondhand Swordsman Time to unlock your class. This sounds great to me. So far, in my first few minutes of Vindication Online, I¡¯ve been enslaved, almost ran over by a guy on a horse and nearly had my arm jerked out of its socket with a whip that opened up said limb like a cheese grater. It¡¯s about damn time I stop running around like a serf. If there are any more Slave Master units/players ¡ª whatever they are ¡ª in the area, they don¡¯t show themselves. We make it without issue across the last stretch of open ground and into the shadow of the gigantic domed palace looming above us. The other three don¡¯t hesitate to head for the doors. As soon as they reach them, the big bro wraps his hands around both ornate handles. Corded muscle stands out on his arms and the doors slowly open. Inside is¡­darkness. I can literally see nothing past the door frame. It looks like I¡¯m stepping into a black hole. To my surprise, the Latino lady dives in right away. Dreadlocks follows her without even a glance back at me. Luckily, Mr. Defensive Lineman sees the lost expression on my face and pauses before hurtling himself into the void. ¡°This is your first time in Vindication Online.¡± It¡¯s a statement, not a question. It¡¯s also the longest sentence he¡¯s said to me since I spawned. I can¡¯t help but notice how educated and refined the dude sounds. People that are that smart and polished usually find ways out of Death Row, no matter how heinous their crimes might have been. I nod and he continues. ¡°You¡¯ve probably already ascertained this, but V.O. doesn¡¯t work like other reality games,¡± he says. ¡°Every time you die, you respawn here, as a slave. Until you fight your way out, your character stays here, generating bitcoin in the mine. The Slave Masters are too strong for any player to escape on their own, so you have to wait for a party to make it out. Plus, there¡¯s the added entertainment of a bunch of unarmed characters trying to scramble their way free of the quarry.¡± That¡¯s messed up. I remind myself the game isn¡¯t really about my entertainment. It¡¯s all about keeping things fresh and interesting for people watching the stream. ¡°Are the Slave Masters other players?¡± I ask. With no holds barred, I wouldn¡¯t put it past the design team to make V.O. some sick social experiment, like the one I¡¯d learned about in my psychology class back in high school. What was it called? The Stanford Prison Experiment or something. People hadn¡¯t changed much in the last century and a half. Big Guy shakes his head. ¡°No, but their AI programming is pretty nasty. Better get out of here before those two respawn. They have a long memory, that lasts even after they¡¯re killed. Just step through the door and we¡¯ll be out of here. My name is Keith, by the way.¡± He offers a hand and I take it. His palm dwarfs my entire hand and his fingers wrap around mine with room to touch on the other side. Part of me warns that I need to be careful. No matter how well spoken this guy is, who knows what he was sentenced to death for. Then again, what do I really have to lose, aside from being stabbed in the back and used as a bitcoin generator? I push the thought from my mind. If there¡¯s one thing I¡¯ve learned from Vindication Online, it¡¯s that I¡¯m not going to get far alone. And if it takes trusting the vilest people on the earth until I can figure out a way to exact my revenge, well, then that¡¯s what it takes. ¡°Lynch,¡± I say, skipping my first name. Keith¡¯s eyes widen and I wonder if he wonders if I¡¯m that Lynch. He doesn¡¯t ask. ¡°See you on the other side.¡± As soon as he lets go of my hand, he steps into the portal and vanishes just like the two women. For the first time in Vindication Online, I¡¯m all alone. No matter the outcome, I¡¯m glad I spawned when I did. This quarry is hell and I hope I never see it again. After a deep breath, I raise one foot and step forward, wondering as I do how long it took the first players in V.O. to figure out how to escape this way. Everything goes dark and I lose the sensation of my virtual body. I¡¯m nothing right now, just a bit of ones and zeroes with conscious thought. It¡¯s a sobering feeling and I start to doubt, not for the first time, if I¡¯ll ever be anything but entertainment for the masses in this game. Then I think of Charity, lying on the floor, unmoving, like a broken porcelain doll. Anger floods through me. If I can remember her, then I¡¯m not done yet. An instant later a screen appears before me. Well, a golden frame, to be exact. There¡¯s nothing inside of it. Or is there? From the center of the frame, a small, blue-with glow takes shape and begins to grow. ¡°Hello,¡± a pleasant, calm, feminine voice says. ¡°I am Vivienne, your guide through the character creation process and basic gameplay mechanics and instruction. Congratulations on escaping the quarry.¡± She doesn¡¯t mention the execution and jump from reality. The irony doesn¡¯t escape me. As Vivienne ¡ª still just a floating blue-white orb ¡ª speaks, she moves out of the golden frame and I see me appear, rotating slowly still only clothed in my ragged canvas pants. Which is super weird, because when I wiggle my fingers or crack my neck, the character in front of me does the same. Man, I hope I don¡¯t have to spend the rest of my awareness in third person. ¡°This is your avatar in Vindication Online,¡± the orb-lady says. ¡°The design is based on scans from your body in the real world.¡±Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. A little vanity creeps into my mind as I examine my rotating self in the third person. I may have been behind bars for the last three years, but I still look like I could wreck a dude in the ring or the immersion rig. Burpees, pull ups, push ups and lunges ¡ª a convict¡¯s best friend. I¡¯d hate to spend eternity looking like a fat piece of shit. Everything looks just like it reflecting back at me from the execution chamber¡¯s one-way mirrors. My brown hair is shaved close to my head and the same length of stubble covers my face. I scowl and the avatar Jake Lynch scowls back in my direction as he continues to spin slowly. I¡¯m still about six feet tall and piled with lean muscle. Hell, my chest is even shaved like I¡¯m prepping for a fight. But there¡¯s something missing. ¡°If this is me, where the hell are my tattoos?¡± I feel myself growing angry. They don¡¯t own me just because I agreed to come into this vindictive game. The irony of my description of Vindication Online doesn¡¯t pass me, either. The three tattoos I had in real life were as much a part of me as anything else. Who made the decision to change how I look? Who had the right? ¡°Character customization in Vindication Online is part of the leveling up process,¡± Vivienne says. ¡°Any changes or additions you would like to make beyond how your vanilla avatar appears now must be earned.¡± This doesn¡¯t sit well with me. Sounds too much like a bunch of prison ¡°behave yourself and we¡¯ll reward you like an animal¡± propaganda. ¡°Fine whatever.¡± I can see my avatar scowling even deeper and clenching his fists but there¡¯s no point in going on a rampage right now. As far as I know, I¡¯m still a level one dude with nothing to his name beyond a pair of shitty pants. Vivienne doesn¡¯t seem to really give a damn that I¡¯m upset, anyway. ¡°Your class is based on a complete assessment of your emotional, psychological, intellectual and physical state at the time of your death,¡± she continues. I don¡¯t interrupt to ask what the difference between my emotional and psychological state is ¡ª right now they¡¯re still pretty pissed, anyway. ¡°Based on these advanced readings, you have been assigned as a beginner melee class, specifically what is known in Vindication Online as Clubman.¡± I see my avatar¡¯s face go slack in disbelief. ¡°A¡­Clubman?¡± How glamorous. ¡°Yes,¡± Vivienne the orb says, bobbing up for what is apparently her version of a nod. She either ignores or completely misses my lack of enthusiasm. I¡¯m starting not to like this particular Christmas ornament. ¡°You will also be given a , a , , , a and, of course, a . Honestly, I¡¯m surprised the club isn¡¯t leather too, in keeping with the trend. I watch each item appear on my avatar and am¡­less than impressed with the end result. Next to the spinning version of Jake Lynch, I see another rectangular box pop up with my stats: Race: Vikingr (Bonus: +10% Hit Points at each advancement) Class: Beginner Melee Hit Points: 44 Melee Attack: 4 Ranged Attack: None Attack Bonus: None Armor: 1 Speed: 2 Special Ability: None Kills: 0 In keeping with another trend, I¡¯m as disappointed in my stats as I am my equipment. And confused. This is like no other game I¡¯ve ever played. In pretty much all the worst ways. Even if this is a starting character, the build is¡­garbage. ¡°Where¡¯s my experience points?¡± I ask Vivienne. ¡°What about my starting skills? Attributes?¡± ¡°In Vindication Online, characters level up through kills,¡± the floating orb explains. ¡°All enemies aside from demi-bosses and bosses award the same amount of experience, that is, one kill. Kills are unique to each player and not shared between party members.¡± This keeps getting better and better. ¡°Is there a guide or something I can look at with all of this information?¡± I ask. I have a feeling I already know the answer. Vivienne pulses for a brief moment. ¡°I am happy to provide you with any permissible information you require,¡± she says in a cheerful tone. ¡°What the hell does permissible information mean?¡± ¡°Any information that is allowed to you based on your current advancement,¡± Vivienne says. Judging by her voice, she must think she¡¯s been a lot more helpful than she is. ¡°Currently, I can walk you through basic gameplay information. I sigh and, in front of me, my newly-equipped avatar rubs his temples with one hand. I¡¯m not positive, but I think I might be getting a virtual headache. ¡°Okay, let¡¯s go through the basics¡­¡± *** When Vivienne finishes giving me the run through, I don¡¯t feel like I¡¯m much better off than when we started. I¡¯ve professionally played dozens of games throughout my career, and I can say without a doubt that Vindication Online is the most frustrating and, based on what I¡¯ve learned so far, probably one of the hardest. There are only four players to each server, meaning like it or not, I¡¯m stuck with Keith, Dreadlocks and the other lady. I should probably ask their names when I get out of character creation mode. Everyone else is an NPC, but the AI is such that they¡¯ll learn and grow with each interaction we have with them, in spite of NPC units not respawning after they¡¯ve been killed. Some sort of lovely hive mind feature. The overall goal isn¡¯t exactly clear ¡ª I mean, I get that I¡¯m trapped in a game for eternity but for it to be entertaining to the real-world viewers, something has to happen, right? The only hint I have is a single objective on another menu that Vivienne shows me, It¡¯s one that I¡¯ve technically already completed: Escape Lord Sakariss¡¯ slave pit. My avatar¡¯s teeth grind is frustration when I read this. I guess when your only players are dead prisoners, you don¡¯t worry too much about UI. What am I going to do if I don¡¯t play the game? I¡¯m pretty sure I can still get bored out of my mind even without having a brain anymore. Not to mention that the game mods are bound to have some way of forcing players to participate. I didn¡¯t look too closely at the contract I signed before they strapped me in the chair, but I knew there were several terms and conditions I was expected to live up to. And since I can still feel pain on some level, making a rebellious statement doesn¡¯t seem like such a good idea. At the moment. And sitting around going mad as a virtual, self-aware consciousness gets me no closer to finding out who killed Charity. No matter how long those odds are. I have plenty more questions but I¡¯m running out of patience with Vivienne. And the utter darkness broken only by my still spinning avatar and limited menu access is getting old. ¡°Okay, okay,¡± I say, cutting the less-than-helpful orb off as she¡¯s describing something about the consequences and intentions of my actions. ¡°I¡¯m good for now. Can you just put me back in the game?¡± Vivienne sniffs. I think I¡¯ve somehow offended my Christmas Ornament. ¡°It is really recommended that players go through the entire tutorial dialog before ¡ª¡± My avatar waves a hand as if he¡¯s warding off an overzealous salesman. ¡°I¡¯ll catch up with you later if I need something. Thanks!¡± ¡°Very well,¡± Vivienne says in the same pouty tone. ¡°Initiating reintroduction. Good luck, Lynch.¡± My last thought as everything goes dark once more is that I don¡¯t remember ever telling Vivienne my name. Chapter 3: Thrice Damned The world materializes in front of me, fading from black as if I¡¯ve just woken from a deep slumber. I realize I¡¯m standing and equipped in all my new ¡°gear.¡± That term describes my collection of basic, subpar items pretty well and I don¡¯t feel much better off than when I was running around in the quarry with only a pair of tattered canvas pants. ¡°Are you always this slow?¡± The voice calls down the hallway and I realize I¡¯m standing just inside the double doors of the palace. A few yards away, the other three are waiting for me. That¡¯s when I notice the bodies littering the hall. ¡°Holy shit,¡± I say, hopping between corpses to catch up. Some of these folks are really jacked. As in, it looks like they¡¯ve all been taking piranha baths. All of the bodies have ¡­chunks missing from them. ¡°Did you guys do this?¡± Dreadlocks rolls her eyes. I¡¯m pretty sure she¡¯d roll her eyes at me if I said the sky was blue. For some reason, she¡¯s decided I¡¯m an idiot and need constant reminding. Fair enough, I guess. I mean, I did sort of sell my soul to a video game. ¡°Wasn¡¯t us and we don¡¯t want to stick around long enough to find out who did it,¡± Keith says. Glad someone in the party isn¡¯t a condescending ass-hat. ¡°Come one, we need to keep moving and find a way out ¡ª it¡¯s hard to say if all the guards are dead or not.¡± Or if whatever did this is still around, I think as we hustle down the hallway. I also can¡¯t help but notice that these bodies aren¡¯t disintegrating at the rate the Slave Masters had. Maybe for dramatic effect? Regardless, this place is creeping me out and I suddenly feel a whole lot more mortal than any dead person has a right to. The hall is wide enough that three of us could have walked down it side by side, but there are so many corpses that we¡¯re forced to pick our way through at a jog in single file order. Keith takes point, then the so-far-not-a-total-wench woman of the group, followed by me, then Dreadlocks bringing up the rear. I see my three compatriots have all bee outfitted in starter gear as well and try to guess their builds to take my mind off the mutilated dead people all around us. I would have pegged Keith for a tank for sure but he¡¯s equipped with even lighter armor than me ¡ª what looks like a cloth tunic, tall boots, leggings, a leather cap like mine and a run-of-the-mill sword. Huh. The lady in front of me wears a padded vest but otherwise is in the medieval equivalent of everyday forester clothes. A quiver is slung over her back and she carries a bow with an arrow nocked to it in her hand. A glance over my shoulder earns me an impatient wave of the arm and a scowl from Dreadlocks but not before I check out her gear. She¡¯s got a¡­well, it¡¯s not really a staff, just looks like a long stick, to be honest. Some kind of magic-user? Other than that, she wears what honestly looks like a poncho straight off of a street vendor in Cabo and some basic clothing underneath. Then there¡¯s me, running around like a caveman with my stupid-ass club. My, what an imposing picture we must make. I hope Keith knows where he¡¯s going because all of a sudden the bodies are gone. For some reason, this makes me feel even more nervous. The palace is ¡ª or was ¡ª a pretty fancy place. The sconces on the wall look to be made of silver and expensive tapestries and paintings adorn the stone between doors. There¡¯s even expensive rugs laid across the floor at random intervals. But who killed all the inhabitants? It¡¯s not just soldiers and guards that are dead ¡ª although there are plenty of those. I¡¯ve seen several scantily clad men and women that looked to be entertainers of some sort, along with others who could only be the castle staff. All of them were piled in the same few stretches of the hallway. Now that we¡¯re past them you wouldn¡¯t even know any sort of struggle had occurred. It¡¯s damn creepy. At this point, I just want out. A terrible thought crosses my mind: what if we¡¯re doomed to wander this palace forever and that¡¯s all? It takes longer than it should for me to realize the entertainment value of that would be pretty bad unless things spice up a bit. Just as I¡¯m thinking that Kieth halts. The archer woman stops in time but I ran right into the back of her, shoving her into Keith. ¡°Ouch! Will you watch where the hell¡­¡± I open my mouth to apologize. And then I see what¡¯s caused her to cut off the tirade. There¡¯s a mostly-decomposed person at the end of the hall. And it¡¯s standing. And it¡¯s definitely animated and knows we¡¯re here. ¡°The undead,¡± I whisper as sweat beads on my forehead. ¡°I hate the undead. Why did it have to be the Undead?¡± Out of all the tropes out there, why did the creators of Vindication Online have to go with zombies? Zombies are the freaking worst. As if it hears my insulting thoughts, the dead person at the end of the hall rushes toward us. Luckily, it¡¯s not one of those freaky-fast Zombies but it still moves faster than a scullery maid has any right to. I grasp my pathetic club tighter, willing myself to step up to the plate and knock this dead lady out of the park. But my legs don¡¯t move. Before I can summon the courage to overcome my disgust ¡ª have I mentioned how much I hate the Undead? ¡ª Keith rushes forward and hacks off the dead scullery maid¡¯s head in a single swing of his sword. For the briefest instant, I feel my tension melt away as the body collapses and the head rolls back down the hall from whence it came. The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.But then the decapitated head starts screaming. The shrieks reverberate down the hall, so piercing that I almost drop to my knees. I definitely drop my club to cover my ears. I assume the rest of the group is in a similar state. The awful sounds carry on for several more seconds and then a square notification icon pops up in the corner of my vision. I look down at it just as Keith crunches the head with the heel of his boot and the hellish sound ceases. Cry of the Undead ¡ª Speed and attack are reduced by 25% for 60 seconds. This awful sound may also alert additional Undead in the area. I¡¯ve just finished reading the debuff when the distant sounds of shrieks echo down the hall. Something clangs in the distance and I¡¯m pretty sure we¡¯re about to have company. A cold shiver runs down my back. Have I mentioned how much I hate the Undead? ¡°This way!¡± Keith waves an arm and we follow him into a side chamber. As soon as we¡¯re all in, he slams the door behind us and drops a wooden beam in the holders, effectively locking us in and hopefully locking everything else out. At the same time several more shrieks sound ¡ª much closer this time. I turn around to find we¡¯re in some sort of garrison quarters. Sun shines through windows located high on the walls and basic candle chandeliers hang from the vaulted ceiling. Beds line both sides of the walls with trunks and stands of armor at the foot of each (all the armor stands are empty, of course). A glance around shows me there¡¯s only one other door, all the way at the other end of the room. I¡¯m already running for even before the first shuddering bang hits the door we just barred. ¡°Where are you going?¡± Keith shouts. He and the others have taken a stand a few yards from the door, like they¡¯re just going to wait for a bunch of rotting corpses to break in and attack them. Idiots. ¡°I don¡¯t know about you three, but I¡¯m not waiting for whatever wants through that door,¡± I shout as I reach the doors at the other end of the room. I wrench them open and find a much smaller room that looks like a smithy. Rows of horseshoes line one wall with racks of more basic weapons on the other. Better still, there¡¯s another door ahead. ¡°There¡¯s another door in here!¡± I shout over my shoulder. Before I can bother to check if the others are following or if they¡¯ve decided they want to sit around and end up as Zombie bait before they respawn as slaves, something in the forge catches my eye. A pair of gauntlets rests on one of the tables. I take a step nearer and pick them up, turning them over in my hands. They¡¯re nothing special, at least to look at, just plain metal. Or at least, as far as I can tell. I begin to think that I should really learn some basic commands like ¡°Inspect¡± when, as soon as I think it, a window pops up in front of me, displaying some basic info about the gauntlets. Steel Gauntlets A pair of well-made Steel Gauntlets. Armor Class: Heavy Armor: +2 Durability: 12/12 Apparently, some guard must have left these in his haste to answer the threat of the undead, because there isn¡¯t any other steel armor in the room that I can see. Still, at this point, I¡¯ll take whatever I can get. I slip the gauntlets onto my hands then flex and unflex my fingers. A thought crosses my mind and I toss aside my shitty club. It¡¯s been a while since I¡¯ve been in a good, old fashioned brawl. Just then, the others burst through the forge doors. At the end of the barracks, a trio of undead shuffle and stumble toward us like three old ladies racing for the last seat at bingo night. ¡°Way to ditch us!¡± Dreadlocks snarls. ¡°Um, actually, I was looking for a way out,¡± I say, jerking my head toward the door. ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure that goes out toward the stables.¡± As we¡¯re snapping at each other, Keith grabs the door with both hands. It hardly budges. ¡°This is going to take a minute,¡± he says. I wonder how he can be so calm at a time like this. Maybe he was a drug runner. Fake zombies ain¡¯t got nothing on drive-by shootings and border patrols ¡°Incoming! Our archer companion looses a pair of arrows, one hits the lead zombie lady in the head, knocking her over backward. The second somehow sails through a rotting hole in the following undead¡¯s side and does no damage. And now they¡¯re on top of us. ¡°Move!¡± I shout and shove her aside. I spin around, dancing lightly on the balls of my feet and lash out with my spiffy new steel gauntlets. The punch catches one of the two remaining zombies in the face. I feel rotting flesh and bone splinter beneath the blow as filthy hands grapple for me. An instant later, the undead goes down. The last of the trio trips over him¡­right into my left uppercut. Once again, rotted flesh and black blood spray all over and the last zombie falls. The undead woman with the arrow in her head lets out a growl and tries to rise until my steel backhand separates her head from the decaying sinews of her spine. ¡°Yuck.¡± I hold my hand out and shake them, trying to flick the last bits of rotted brains, flesh, and putrid blood. My shiny new gauntlets are filthy but they performed better than expected. A series of prompts is fading in the corner of my vision: You attack Undead Washerwoman for 25 points of blunt damage¡­ You attacked Undead Castellan for 21 points of blunt damage¡­ The list goes on and on, and my kill count rises to three. Interestingly, I see no XP bar and can¡¯t see that I¡¯ve gained any experience from the battle, only kills. But there¡¯s no time to think about that now because a dozen or more undead are clawing their way through the battered doors at the end of the barrack. I spin around and see Keith straining against the door. It doesn¡¯t make a damn lick of sense that it would be stuck shut, but after a heave worth of Dwayne Johnson, the door opens enough for us to squeeze through. After all of us make it through, I grab the inside handle with Keith and we pull for all we¡¯re worth. The door closes six inches, then a foot. And then the undead are upon us. Half-skeletal hands with shredded flesh and blackened nails pry at the doors. With a cry, Keith lets go of the door and I get yanked forward. I strain as hard as I can to not lose the door, all the while screaming at Keith for letting go like a dumbass. A moment later his sword flashes in the gap, hacking and chopping at undead hands and arms. Enough appendages fall away that I¡¯m able to slam the door shut. Keith drops the bar, securing us for the meantime. Without waiting to see how long the door will hold, we race down the hall after Dreadlocks and our archer. Sure enough, the passage leads to the stables. And a way out of the undead-infested palace. "Have I mentioned how much I hate undead?" I ask Keith as the sounds of the snarls and growls fade behind us.