NormanOnline Level1 (New Game)

Be Norman, one year after school ended.

>The greatest achievement of mankind they said, the cerebral deviation, a revolution for surgeons around the world.

>With something akin to the most high tech dagger ever dreamed, it is now possible to disconnect one’s consciousness and transfer it to a computer with enough memory space.

>Obviously, this invention was put to the best of use possible. Video games. Thanks to Dream Haven Corp, the first “Full Immersion” consoles became available to anyone [spoiler]with enough money[/spoiler].

>Their games, while simple, were such a revolution thanks to their hardware that they quickly become the only producer of these types of software in the world.

>But the dream didn’t last. The incident of the “Great LockDown” caused every player connected to DH Corp’s last game, Shattered Horizon, to fall into a coma, one year later; no one has found a solution to save the victims of the “Abysmal Immersion”.

>Today is the sad anniversary of the Great LockDown. The day Shattered Horizon stole the Aryan Beauty from this world.

>But I am not crying today. For I now have hope.

>This morning, I received a call from half of my friends from Canterlot High (we still see each others on a monthly basis), they all had the same thing to say:

>“Quickly Norman! Check your DH mailbox!”

>So I did. And everything changed.

>“To :Norman”

>“From: Rarity”

>“Subject: Help me!”

>I have no more reasons to wait, I read the message as fast as humanly possible and my course is set.

>After an entire year fleeing this wretched place, fate decides that I have run long enough, destiny calls with the voice of my angel and if I did not answer ; I would not be a man.

>I put the cursed device on my head and, after a too long hesitation, switch it on. I wait for this world of wonders an dangers to come to me, to behold one last time, the resting place of the soul of my beloved, her grave or her prison, no matter, I’ll bring any walls down if it means seeing her smiling face even for a second! The screen comes to life and I know the time for talk is over.

>Come heartless codes! Let us fight, for Aryan Beauty!

>“Updating: Please wait.”

>“Estimated time: 2:30:49.”

“MOTHER FUCKER!!”

 

Be [spoiler]unknown[/spoiler], same day.

>Your forehead rests on the back of your hands, your skull feels so heavy right now.

>Probably the sheer amount of thoughts in your brain.

>How suddenly these questions stormed in your mind…

>Why did you receive that mail? There is no reason why she would send it to you. Did she lose her sanity? Maybe she’s isn’t the real one? An imposter pretending to be her would make more sense than the current situation… But in that case, what’s the objective? Reveal the truth about what happened that day?

>This possibility sends a shiver down your spine, that person wants to harm you! To log in and go to the meeting point would be the same as throwing yourself off a bridge!

>But maybe you deserve it? After all… You killed her… You watched her die…

>You do not have the choice. Fate is calling with the voice of the dead… Time to accept your fate and atone for your sins.

>You switch the FI Gear on and hover above the icon for “Shattered Horizon”, this bunch of pixel kept on taunting you each time you put the device on your head. How could a picture instill so much dread on you yet keep pulling your very soul to it? You even kept the damned program up to date!

“What’s wrong with me?”

>You don’t wait for an answer and log in.

 

Back to being Norman.

>2 hours and a half later, you’re waiting for the last data to fall into place, replaying the contents of the mail in your mind, trying to imagine how it would have sounded with the voice of Aryan Beauty.

>“I do not have much time, so copies of this mail will be sent at all of you, my friends. I need your help. Meet me at the last room of the Tower of the 2nd stratum in 5 days. I know this sounds like a tall order, but with all of you together, you’ll manage, if any of you cannot join… Then I am afraid all is lost. Please hurry, I am counting on you. I beg of you, help me. Rarity.

>“PS: Norman, this part is for you only. There is an in-game item with this mail. DO NOT EQUIP IT, but keep it in your inventory at all time! You’ll understand, I promise. Love.”

>Finally, you tap the log in option.

>Instantly you feel a sharp pain in your nape, the surgical needle just dove between two vertebrae and you feel your senses leaving your physical vessel. A whirlwind of colors sweeps you away. It only lasts for a few seconds, but it gives you a good idea to what a t-shirt must feel in the washing machine, then again, maybe Pink would correct this assumption, after all, she did try.

“Weird moment to think about Pink’s craziest dares, brain.”

>After a timeless moment, you find yourself in what you suppose is a white spherical room. In the middle of it stands a single framed painting of you, or rather, your avatar, made to your likeliness, it might sound a bit pretentious, but you do like how you look, thus, you mad a character that looks like you thanks to the biometric features in the FI Gear.

>As you touch the painting, you hear a familiar voice.

>“Welcome back to the world of Fatum, Norman.”

>Eiah, the timeless goddess watching over the adventurers of Shattered Horizon, A.K.A. the tutorial A.I. whose voice punctuates most menus and systems.

>As your consciousness blends with the body beyond the painting, you open your stats panel, one full year away from the game means a lot of missed updates and your crash course of big changes you read on the forums only gave you pointers about what might have been drastically modified on your other self.

>To your surprise, no-one seems to have butchered anything of importance.

>S.H. has always been a bit of a strange game on many aspects: there is no xp gain, however there is a form of leveling, skill aren’t gained with your character, but with the items you drop, these items also determines your stats, this also means that what you drop defines your class.

>In your case, the community refers to your current build as “Commissar”: 65% Strength and 35% Wisdom, a one handed sword and a handgun for weapons. A “noob class” would say Scott, however, you proved him wrong: such build doesn’t give you any huge advantage against some opponents, but the opposite is equally true, no opponent has any advantage on you and you fit in any team.

>There is also another reason why this build is special to you. A beautiful, sapphire eyed, reason.

>You let a memory come to you, and grin, it’s still quite silly in all honesty…

“Y-You give it to me? I-I mean really? But Ary- *cough* Rarity, that thing is Quality 9/10! You could smelt it to upgrade your equipment! Trade it for almost anything! Or-…”

>“Norman, dear, you talk too much. Just a «Thank you Rarity» would’ve been more than enough.” She adds a wink, and any other thoughts in your mind turn into mush.

>“Trade complete: Received 1 Wyvern Bite.”

“With this, I’ll make sure not a single thing could even dream about touching you, ô my princess!” you say, a stupid grin on your face, as you bow so low you could chew the grass at your feet.

>“Very well my faithful knight, come, for we have much to hunt to find our royal self a weapon worthy of our ô so delicate hands, we’ll settle only for a Quality 10.” She jokes as the two of you exit the dungeon.

>The memory fades and your grip tighten on the handle of the Sword, before you stands the entrance of the First Tower, a dark chuckle escapes your lips thinking about how well you were prepared for this dungeon the very day before the Great lockdown.

>You inhale deeply and step forward.

“Round one, Normal Norman VS First tower. Fight to the death!” you whisper.

>“A new challenger approaches!” yells the truck that tackles you to the ground.

>“The_Bradicalest invites you to join his party: «Bradicalmost Quest!».”

“Hello Brad.” You choke, dirt in your mouth.

>With a lot more ease than physically possible, Brad hugs you back on your feet and crushes a few more ribs with the same move.

>You need a whole minute to regroup the parts of your brain scattered on the ground, and notice 3 more invitations for different groups.

>“Let’s save Normy’s GF party!!”, “Awesome Squad” and “A55 K1ck3r5”…

“Let me guess… No one managed to regroup everyone under the same flag?” you deadpan as you look at your former classmates.

>“As ya can see Sugarcube, some ol’ mules can’t stay serious for three goddamn’ minutes.”

>“I’m so sorry Norman I couldn’t do anything to stop them…”

>“Rainbow started it!”

>“Wuh-? Whoah!! Liar! You’re the first who refused Scott’s invite and created a second team!”

>“But his naming skills suck!”

>“Go suck a d-“

>“Scott, language.”

>“Twi’ this has nothing to do with you. So either you shut it, either you f-”

>*BANG*

>You holster you firearm with a little spin and take a moment to appreciate the silence with your eyes closed. This trick still work so well. Once you open your eyes, everyone is looking at you, the 4 team leaders looking quite ashamed at their bickering.

>You sigh with content, a small smile at how nostalgic you feel about this scene, before making a small gesture towards Yellow, one of the many codes you made with your team to maximize your efficiency in battle, instantly, a small “Eep” sound escapes the girl hidden behind her long soft pink hair.

“First of all: Morning Ladies and Gentleman!” you yell, feeling like a true leader once you hear everyone greet you in return, before instantly dropping the act.

“It’s good to see you all once more,” you add «elsewhere than in a hospital room» to yourself “let’s not lose more time, we’ll do as always: disband your current groups, and join mine. Scott, you’ll be our tactician, if there is still anything anyone want to say before we go in, don’t hesitate to say it now.”

>“Well, there is something Norm’,” says Scott looking in your eyes, uh oh, not a good sign right there “It’s about… Well, it’s about this whole affair… We have to think about the fact that maybe… We’re chasing after phantoms…”

“I’m not sure to follow.”

>He sighs “Sorry, but someone must be the voice of reason in this team and I volunteer… What I mean is: we do not know if this thing is the real deal… Who knows if it is Rares’ who sent this mail? It could very well be someone pretending to be her… And-“

“One second there Scott… What you’re implying is…” you take a breath “You’re telling me to let go of the only possibility to see Rarity again?”

>“NO! No! Certainly not!... I mean… Uhh… gimme a sec, I know what I want to say but I messed it up… One moment…”

>You watch him stammer and lose his train of thoughts, a part of you feel bad for using your “Don’t f*ck with me” stare on him, but you won’t have this crap, you’ll go to the meeting point, alone if need be.

>“Wh-What Scott wants to say is… Or I think it is… You must be ready for… A certain possibility Norman…”

>Yellow… You can’t be mean to her, you fell that, if you do, Satan himself is gonna come for your ass in the minute you even raise your voice towards her. You sigh… A bit of your motivation escaping with the flow of air.

“I know Shy, I know Scott… There is a possibility that it’s all a false hope… But I don’t care. Not a single f*ck to give about that. I’m going and that’s final, if you come with me, it’ll be a lot easier, but I won’t force anyone, so… now is the time to say if you don’t have enough confidence in this...”

>“You know… Anyone can still leave the team once in the Tower, they’ll get kicked to the entrance if things get rough.”

>Dammit Purple! My cool speech !

>“This is the second thing I wanted to talk about. The «Game Over».”

“Whaddaya mean?”

>“You know, the rumor about in-game deaths…”

>“After the LockDown incident, a rumor spread like wildfire: they say that, if you die in-game, you also die IRL… While it might sound silly, we got a prime example of game induced coma, in fact the rumor caused so much dread that the devs had to intervene, but their announcement went ignored…”

>“Now it’s my turn to not get it.”

>“Ya can compare it ta real life: everyone has a different interpretation of what dying must feel like, but no-one knows cuz no-one came back ta tell anyone.”

>“In our case, players are afraid that if they reach 0HP they’ll die for real, thus they avoid it and now, no-one is brave enough to try it to see what might happen…”

>A long, uncomfortable silence stretches after Twi’s sentence.

“Very well. Scott, you’re my second in command, what do we pack before heading in?”

>“Give me the right to check teammates inventory and we’ll get started, Twi, gimme a hand.”

>As you change the settings of the group, you remember the item the Aryan Beauty gave you with the mail.

>1 Skybluediamond? Weird, is this a new item? As Twi reaches you to check your items, you put it in the Quest Thumbnail and the mysterious gem blends itself among other McGuffins forgot there.

>Once she finishes her inspection, she gives you a thumb up and go to...

“BlueBlood.” >You hiss.

>“Norman” he answers.

>To your ears, his voice is like steel, cold and sharp, but you’re certain no one else noticed the slight intonation in his voice. A quick glance on your Team Window confirms the terrible truth, he’s the ninth member of the team.

>You open a private chat with Brad.

“What on Earth is this asshole doing here?”

>“Calm down bro’, I know you hate each other’s guts, but he got the mail too and we need as many healers as possible. Sorry Norm’”

>This will be a lot tougher than expected.