My rent was due in three days. That was the biggest problem in my life until about thirty seconds ago.
Now, the biggest problem was the sky. It was blue. Not the normal, nice "summer day" blue. It was the distinct, terrifying shade of a Windows error screen blue.
I sat at my desk, staring out the office window of Velocity Gaming Solutions. My job title was "Junior Quality Assurance Tester," which was corporate speak for "guy who runs into walls in video games for eight hours a day to see if I fall through the map." I made minimum wage and my eyes hurt constantly.
"Hey, Jax," my manager, Dave, leaned over my cubicle wall. He was holding a lukewarm coffee and wearing a shirt that was too tight around the neck. "Did you finish the collision report on level seven? The devs are waiting."
I didn't answer him. I couldn't. I was too busy watching the clouds outside turn into giant, white blocks of text.
Does anyone else see that? I thought, my heart starting to hammer against my ribs.
It looked like the sky had just suffered a catastrophic graphics card failure. Massive white letters scrolled across the horizon, big enough to be read from space.
[SYSTEM INITIALIZATION BEGUN.] [PLANET: EARTH-42.] [INTEGRATION PROGRESS: 1%...]
"Dave," I managed to choke out, pointing a shaking finger at the window. "I think the level seven collision report can wait."
Dave squinted at the window. "What in god's name is... is that a marketing stunt? Did Blizzard buy the sky?"
It wasn't a stunt.
The scrolling text stopped. The entire world seemed to hold its breath. The sound of traffic fourteen stories down ceased instantly. The hum of the office A/C unit died.
Then, the noise hit.
It wasn't an explosion. It was the sound of a billion notifications going off at once. A high-pitched PING that shattered the glass of my office window and drove me to my knees, hands clamped over my ears.
"GAH!" I screamed, squeezing my eyes shut. My brain felt like it was vibrating inside my skull.
When I opened my eyes, the office was gone.
Well, not gone. Replaced.
I wasn't kneeling on industrial gray carpet anymore. I was on cold, damp stone. The smell of ozone and stale air filled my nose. I looked up, gasping for breath.
We were in a massive, circular stone chamber. Torches flickered on walls covered in glowing blue moss. There were about fifty other people crowded in here with me—my coworkers, people from the street below, the lady who ran the sandwich shop downstairs.
Dave was standing next to me, his coffee spilled down the front of his shirt. He looked pale. "Jax? Where are we? Is this... is this a prank show?"
Before I could answer, a transparent blue rectangle floated into existence right in front of my face.
It looked exactly like the game interfaces I tested every day.
[WELCOME, PLAYER!] [You have been selected for the Great Multiverse Tutorial.] [Current Zone: Goblin Caves - Floor 1.] [Please wait while the System assigns your unique Class based on your life experience and latent potential...]
Panic erupted in the chamber. People were screaming, crying, trying to run for exits that didn't exist.
"A game?" I muttered, staring at the floating text. "The whole world just got turned into a freakin' RPG?"
I watched as the people around me started glowing.
A golden light enveloped Sarah from accounting. The light faded, and she was holding a wooden staff. A notification popped up above her head that everyone could see.
[CLASS ASSIGNED: APPRENTICE MAGE]
Next to her, the security guard from the lobby got hit with red light. His uniform tore away, replaced by leather armor and a rusty sword.
[CLASS ASSIGNED: WARRIOR]
"Yes!" the guard yelled, swinging the sword nervously. "I knew all those hours in the gym would pay off!"
Dave, my manager, got hit with a dull gray light.
[CLASS ASSIGNED: MERCHANT]
"A merchant?" Dave whined, looking at his empty hands. "I don't even get a weapon? I want to speak to a supervisor!"
I ignored them. I was waiting for my turn. My heart was pounding. This was insane, terrified chaos, but a tiny, nerdy part of my brain was excited. I was a gamer. I tested this stuff for a living. Maybe I'd get something cool. Maybe I'd be a Rogue, or a Shadow Assassin.
The blue light hit me. It felt cold. It washed over my body, making my skin tingle.
I waited for the cool armor. I waited for the epic weapon to appear in my hands.
Nothing happened.
The light flickered. It turned from a healthy blue to a sickly, static-filled purple. The System box in front of me started to glitch, the text tearing and rearranging itself.
[ANALYZING POTENTIAL...] [ERROR.] [SUBJECT HAS NO COMBAT EXPERIENCE.] [SUBJECT HAS NO MAGIC AFFINITY.] [SUBJECT LIFE EXPERIENCE: DEBUGGING TRASH MOBILE GAMES.]
"Hey, come on," I whispered, offended even while terrified. "They weren't all trash."
The system ignored me. The box shook violently.
[SEARCHING FOR SUITABLE CLASS...] [SEARCHING...] [FATAL ERROR 404: CLASS NOT FOUND.]
My stomach dropped. Everyone else had their classes. The screaming in the room was dying down as people examined their new weapons. I was the only one standing there in my jeans and a wrinkled hoodie, holding absolutely nothing.
"Uh, System?" I tried tapping the floating box. "Don't I get a consolation prize? A rusty dagger? A pointy stick?"
The box stopped glitching. It stabilized into a dark, ominous crimson color. A final message appeared, accompanied by the sound of synthesized static.
[EMERGENCY PROTOCOL INITIATED.] [ASSIGNING DEFAULT DEVELOPER ACCESS.]
[CONGRATULATIONS!] [YOU HAVE RECEIVED THE UNIQUE CLASS: THE TRASH-TIER ADMIN (TIER 0)]
I stared at the words.
Trash-Tier Admin? What kind of class was that? It sounded less like a hero and more like the guy who cleaned up the server room after a Mountain Dew spill.
A second box popped up.
[WARNING: YOUR CLASS IS CURRENTLY BUGGED. MOST FUNCTIONS ARE OFFLINE. DO NOT ATTEMPT TO ALTER REALITY WITHOUT SUPERVISION. THE SYSTEM IS NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR ACCIDENTAL DELETION OF SELF.]
"Alter reality?" I breathed.
Suddenly, the stone wall at the far end of the chamber groaned. Dust fell from the ceiling as a massive section of the wall slid open, revealing a dark tunnel.
Red eyes glowed in the darkness. The screech of something hungry echoed out of the tunnel.
The tutorial had begun. And I was pretty sure my only weapon was a broken keyboard.