245. Character Creation

  Hair length and style. Horn length and, uh, style? Eye color, hair color, skin color, even teeth color, which Serac found especially weird to think about. From there, everything from height, weight, muscle definition ([Substance] be damned!) to one thigh thicker than the other, one arm longer, one side of the chin jutting out and out until her face looked like a crescent moon.

  The degrees and sheer number of ways to customize her appearance seemed endless. Frankly too much for Serac to explore in full. The menu did keep her occupied for some time, as she amused herself by making her avatar look as pretty or grotesque as the permutations allowed.

  Yikes, that makes me look like one of them Gluttons from Tidereign. Definitely don’t want that. Oh, but if I tweak this, I end up a real looker. Those eyes, those cheekbones, and legs for days!

  As Serac dove deeper, a surreal kind of energy set in. The task became more granular, honing in on the most minute details to get them just right. Concentration at once sharpened and flagged as Serac tweaked the angle of that bone or adjusted the swell of that one part of her cheek.

  At some point, an errant command (that cheek is way too puffy!) snapped her out of the trance. Only then did she realize how tense her imaginary muscles had become, how exhausted her very real mind. She took a step back to examine her ‘handiwork’ in full: tall and slender, shoulder-length hair with luscious waves, piercing garnet eyes, and full lips pulled into a somewhat teasing pout.

  She sat with the very attractive yet very much warped image of herself, all while a sense of discomfort grew.

  [… Say the word, [Serac Edin], and I can undo all the changes in an instant. Back to the base template, which is to say your default appearance.]

  Serac started, having completely forgotten about SysAdmin. Were you here the whole time, just waiting for me to finish sculpting myself?

  But it wasn’t really ‘myself’, was it? Fresh off her self-finding mission in Tidereign, Serac had real misgivings about pretending to be a leggy-pouty goddess. Somewhere in the back of her mind, an impish voice echoed: ‘fake it ’til you make it’. Yet she knew no amount of faking could make that.

  Yes please, she indicated to SysAdmin. Ditch the changes and put me back to normal. Oh, and sorry for taking so long with this.

  [Apology not accepted, [Serac Edin]! SFERA is your world, free to live it however you wish and desire. And I’m here to help you do just that. So, take all the time you need, make as many changes as you like. But if you’re sure you want to reset, I’d be happy to accommodate that as well!]

  … Yes, I’m sure. Put me back.

  [Done!]

  With a cheerful text and a pixelated flourish, the leggy-pouty goddess was gone in an instant. Back to plain ol’ Serac, standing a little too rigid to look all that comfortable. Yet the sight of it brought the observer Serac no small measure of relief.

  Okay, I think I’m happy with this. Let’s just move on.

  [Are you sure? You can re-customize your avatar after you start the game, but at a fee of $25,000 SFD—just to cover the cost of system-wide reconceptualization.]

  What happened to helping me live out my wishes and desires? Serac wanted to quip, then tried to keep the thought to herself (perhaps futilely). But then something SysAdmin just said did snag in her mind. System-wide re- what now? A real mouthful, and kind of a weird label for just changing one player’s avatar…

  If SysAdmin had listened in on Serac’s inner monologue, it apparently felt no need to address it. For it quickly moved onto…

  [Well, if you’re sure, then let’s get you kitted out! There’s more than one way to express yourself, [Serac Edin], and here at SFERA, we take our drip seriously. Of course, you won’t be able to afford the brand names just yet, but we do offer a selection of starter items, free of charge. Take a look!]

  … And that was how Serac lost another hour in the void that was character creation.

  The awkward Rakshasa in smallclothes soon became a fashion show unto herself. Tank top with denim jacket. Argyle vest on a smart white shirt. Skin-tight lace blouse that made even herself blush!

  Serac could easily have spent two hours or more. This was another one of her happy places, as she was lately finding she could have more than one. And unlike remolding her face and body, there was zero stress involved in trying on new clothes! (Famous last words, someone echoed in the back of her mind.)

  But alas, Serac was a Wayfarer, and a Wayfarer must get back on the Path some time this Kalpa. In the end, she settled for a blend of aesthetics and function. A sensible pair of hiking pants topped by a fitted jacket for maximum mobility. To this, she added a poncho, which she partially tied as a scarf and let the rest billow behind her, almost like a cape.

  [Oooh, great combination, [Serac Edin]! Did you have an inspiration for it?]

  Kind of. I saw Caraway wear something like this one time (after she stopped imitating Oriole), and I remember thinking it might go well with the gunslinger look. What do you reckon?

  [I reckon you’re bang on! This is something straight out of a spaghetti western, but updated for the modern sensibility. No notes, [Serac Edin], you’re killing it!]

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  Serac vaguely understood that SysAdmin wasn’t 100% genuine. That it was perhaps programmed to flatter and validate. She also didn’t know what a ‘spaghetti’ was or what it had to do with cardinal directions. Even so, she couldn’t help it. She found herself grinning from ear to imaginary ear.

  Okay, let’s strike while the iron’s hot, like… like… hang on, where did I pick up that expression? Never mind. I’m locking in my drip, Mr Admin. Show me what’s next!

  [Perfect! And well, that’s it! This is where I leave you for now. But don’t worry, we’ll be seeing plenty of each other yet.]

  O—oh. A bit abrupt, but that’s alright. What happens now?

  [Why, this is where the game begins in earnest! Good luck and have fun, [Serac Edin]… and may your Path never lead you astray for long!]

  And just like that, SysAdmin’s text box fell away, along with the image of ‘modern spaghetti western’ Serac.

  They weren’t the only things that disintegrated. The screen itself soon followed, its solid-ish surface breaking apart into a million individual pixels, until all that was left was an expanse of white, featureless nothingness.

  An expanse of nothingness… plus Serac herself. In the flesh. Racing mind reunited with sturdy body.

  “Oho!”

  Serac marveled aloud as she took in her new look, made permanent by SFERA’s virtual reality. She could feel the wool of her poncho, a tad scratchy against her neck. The flexible lightness of her fitted jacket, perfect for gunslinging with the occasional rock swing. And of course, the familiar weight of REVOLVER upon her waist.

  New Realm, new drip, but same old Serac and her same old Path. What was SysAdmin on about? Of course she’d keep her eyes trained on the prize, just like… like…

  “Serac.”

  She looked up with a start, not having expected company. A second figure now stood beside her, as if they’d always been there. A figure she should’ve known well, but it took her a second or two to place them.

  “R—Renna? Is that really you?”

  [Renate Sandvik] stood in the white expanse, wide-set amphibian eyes level with a Rakshasa’s crimson pair. She was the tree-frog Yaksha Serac knew well, except not quite. Ignoring for a Ksana the fact she’d grown to Serac’s height, her build was slightly slimmer (and softer?), her eyes noticeably warmer (and gentler?), and…

  “Your shark scales!” Serac exclaimed, perhaps somewhat rudely. “They’re gone!”

  The Sferan version of Renna sported a turtleneck vest and a high-waisted skirt over leggings. An ensemble that might’ve clashed badly with a giant shovel and a bandolier full of potions, but the frog woman somehow made it work, thanks in no small part to her new figure.

  [Designation: RENATE SANDVIK]

  [Wayfarer Race: YAKSHA]

  [Karmic Level: 90]

  [Liminal Karma: 11,770 ?]

  [ZEALOUS Instrument: OYSTER]

  [Auxiliary: DREDGER]

  [Archetype (restricted): TERPSICHORE—the Rhythmic]

  Having never seen Renna in anything but her trusty hooded suit, Serac couldn’t help but gawk. Her shock was threefold: first that her down-to-earth friend had fiddled with the avatar system at all, second that Renna’s fashion sense could be so sophisticated, and third that her pink head was completely bare, not a single speck of polished basalt to be seen.

  “I wanted to look like my mother. The way I remember her. This was the best I could manage with the options on offer.”

  The explanation was so simple. So heart-wrenching.

  In a fraction of a second, Serac went from rudely gawking to holding in tears. She had so many questions. About souls who’d found themselves, and what it meant for them to imitate something they weren’t. Yet, in the end, she too went for something simple and heartfelt.

  “You look beautiful, Renna.”

  “Thank you,” Renna said with her trademark mellow nod. “And don’t worry. I checked with the entity called SysAdmin. Even absent the visual evidence of shark denticles, I haven’t lost my ability to ripple-read.”

  Serac wasn’t thinking about that at all, but she appreciated the update all the same. And then… she couldn’t help it. She reached out and pulled the pink frog in for a hug. She was both startled and delighted when the two nearly bumped heads.

  “It’ll take me a while to get used to the taller you!” Serac said with a teary chuckle. “But it’s good to be able to touch another soul. I still don’t fully understand what VR is, but the ‘R’ part of it seems solid enough!”

  “Yes,” Renna agreed, though with a slight, pensive frown. “It’s just as… we’ve been briefed. Separation of body and mind, followed by a persistent reimagining of the former by SFERA’s powerful engine.”

  The Rakshasa nearly frowned in solidarity. That hitch in Renna’s speech—Serac recognized her own confusion in it. Recalling a memory only to forget it in the same instant.

  “Well, it’s all very impressive so far.” Serac pushed through the hitch, then gestured at their surroundings. “But what’s with all this empty space? SysAdmin promised a whole world for us to explore, and so far, this doesn’t look like anything.”

  “I think it’s… loading.”

  Renna said slowly, throwing a familiar word into an unfamiliar context. Serac thought she understood, though the source of her knowledge proved as elusive as ever. Elusive and somehow trivial. She pushed past the hitch again, starting to acclimate to the act of ignoring an inaccessible memory.

  The act of reconceptualization.

  And just in time. For she and Renna—just the two of them—were about to embark on their Sferan adventure. It began, as afterlife-altering events often did, with a disembodied message:

  [Play opening cutscene? Yes/No]

  Opening cutscene? Three familiar words combined into one unfamiliar idea. Yet something in Serac’s consciousness resonated with it all the same, evoking with it a word of sensible advice. Pay attention. This is important.

  [Yes], Serac answered in her mind. Beside her, soft-gentle Renna did the same. In an instant, the white nothingness changed over to pitch darkness.

  The disorienting blackout. The accompanying hush of anticipation. The beginning of a brand new story.

  The curtains opened with a blinding flash.

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