Book One: All Is Silent at Beckett’s Sound
It took Hollis eleven days to beat the tutorial when he was a kid. As an adult, it took him less than one. Part of that was owed to his having greater experience and knowing the meaning of words like 'unguent,' 'chitin,' or 'larder' as an adult that he didn't as a kid. The other part was that, as a kid, all he wanted to do was explore. To escape. This time, he knew the real journey didn't start until the offer was made.
So, after he found homes for his animals and got his affairs in order, he rushed through the game as fast as he could point and click. Then, he was offered the choice once more.
Return to PeriaptYou’ve shown your mettle, traveler.
Not every soul who signs on can keep a wagon moving when the road turns cruel. Not every hired hand can stand watch through nights where the wind carries voices it shouldn’t. You did. You learned the rules of the trail, and more importantly, when to bend them.
By consensus and quiet approval, you are hired on.
A proper westward caravan claims you now. Oxen low in their yokes. Settlers counting futures they haven’t earned yet. A benefactor eager to put his name on the map. There is pay. There is purpose. There is a destination marked clearly on the map.
Most will take the job as it was given and stop reading here. Will you continue?
[Yes] [No]
If you are truly interested in exploring the wilds of the abandoned continent, perhaps you will consider another offer.
The ink on this bargain is older. The lettering is strange, and the promise stranger. Will you read on?
[Yes] [No]
You know in your heart that the perils of Periapt are no mere game. The continent beyond the sea is not the stuff of imagination. You've felt the warmth of its campfires on your face and the breath of its beasts on the tender part of your neck.
This world is as real as you are.
If you so choose, abandon your world of plenty and take passage to Periapt itself. Then you can live the life of an explorer where the stakes have never been higher.
Vow to protect the settlers as they reclaim their homeland. Guide them down the winding road to the Great Pass, through wild magic, ancient ruins, and a land where all power is carved from beast, bone, and root.
Magic does not come from books here. It comes from what you bind, what you bargain with… and what you are willing to take into yourself.
The oath is binding. The choice is permanent. The deeper you go, the darker the trail becomes.
Do you wish to swear the oath?
[Yes] [No]
Then, Welcome to Periapt, Hollis Hood.
This world was made for you...
The arch above the docks at Beckett’s Sound read, “All is possible for those who seek the Pass,” and fools took it for a message of hope.
The waves did not hear Hollis’ oath. The pilings of the shattered dock did not judge him brave or noble.
Hollis breathed out the countryside air of Earth and breathed in the salt spray of Periapt. He greeted the world with a cough as he heard the wooden rowboat underneath him begin to crack.
He had arrived.
The small fishing dock outside Beckett’s Sound was not as he remembered. Its planks had rotted or shattered years ago. Most of what remained were the thick pilings, and one of them had just torn a hole in his boat.
He reacted quickly, first by jumping to the sturdiest piling he could see, then by balancing upon the only beam connected to it that was too thick to have rotted away.
He climbed and crawled over the broken boards of the dock toward shore, the whole time wondering if this was the same Beckett’s Sound he had first fallen in love with as a boy. By the time he reached safety, the humble rowboat was beneath the waves, and he finally realized that his wireless mouse was still firmly gripped in his right hand.
He stayed on his knees for a time, coughing up sea and spittle as his eyes darted, on the lookout for danger. When he could breathe properly, he jumped to his feet.
Something had gone very wrong, he realized as he appraised the destroyed dock and rotten piers in the distance.
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The overcast skies hid the time of day from him, but the town of Beckett’s Sound slept no matter the hour. Not a fireplace was lit in the whole village, not even a candle. Hollis spun in a slow circle, surveying the area, while quickly checking to see which, if any, of the supplies he had brought remained on his person.
He tossed the wireless mouse into his pocket. He couldn't foresee needing it here. This place was real. Monsters would not be slain by clicking.
The hatchet and knife affixed to the left of his belt, and the revolver on the other side, remained in place. His jacket and its many hidden pockets were untouched. His boots were still strapped to his feet. Even his rifle, slung over his shoulder, was still there.
But not his backpack. It had been filled with every luxury item he could wish for in Periapt, and duplicates of many of the necessities he wore on his person. It was gone, but not simply gone, replaced.
He now wore a rough leather pack filled with nothing but a cotton blanket and a single tin container of burning liniment.
“Of course, you’d be the first thing I’d see,” he said under his breath to the small tin of medicine as he put the new pack back on and began walking away from the docks. He could smell that foul ointment just by thinking about it.
He scanned the cobblestone streets and alleyways of the town as he walked by. It was a port town of ambiguous age. Victorian sensibilities, but with elements that belonged to no age at all, like the massive skeletons of buildings in the distance that had long rotted to nothing but stone and rust.
The last time he had seen Beckett’s Sound, it had been alive with travelers and fishermen. The taverns had been full and the markets bustling. Ships full of settlers came to port every day. Quest givers called from every street corner, and explorers of all types scurried from checkpoint to checkpoint, preparing to embark on their continental journeys.
Now, all was silent in Beckett’s Sound. Even the water was afraid to make a peep.
The town, it seemed, was long abandoned.
He feared he had come too late.
Hollis didn't give up. Return to Periapt was a point-and-click first-person adventure game. While the graphics left something to be desired, the town's layout was exactly as he remembered. It was a small village built in the ruins of a large port city. In his first hour in the new world, Hollis first visited the nearest pub. Its brews and brouhahas had been some of the most memorable parts of his time in port. He followed the map in his memories to the best of his ability, but all he found was a vacant building.
The tables and chairs were still there, but all foodstuffs had long since been raided. He walked through the unlocked door and found a strange wooden statue near the player piano. The statue had been a puzzle in the game. Its head was a series of round disks with different eyes, noses, and mouths on them. Spinning them around to the right combination would solve the puzzle.
What was that solution again? It took him a moment to remember. With a glance across the room at a painting of the barkeep's wife, the memory came rushing back. Big red lips, amber eyes, and a small pointed nose. He got the pieces spun in the right orientation and then pulled the statue's arm toward himself.
The statue clicked. A small door opened in its chest and swung wide.
Inside was a whole bottle of Thinkin' Man's Gin. The only brew that could make you wiser, smarter, and calmer, unless you drank too much of it. Then you were just drunk.
The barkeep had been named Bernie. He kept the bottle there for his own reasons. Hollis was glad to see it was still there. He took a swig. A warm sensation filled his stomach.
Your consciousness relaxes as the elixir frees it from its toils. You heal 2 Mind. ▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▱▱ [8/10]
The wretched liquor sours in your gut. You lose 1 Bile. ▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▱▱▱ [7/10]
You are hungry.
He hadn't even noticed the inspector screen floating at the back of his mind. Its presence was unexpected. He thought he was leaving the game behind, but parts of it must have come with him. That would be convenient.
You are hungry.
The text repeated. Maybe the inspector wouldn't be that convenient.
He knew he was hungry. He could feel his stomach rumbling. He didn't need the inspector to tell him that. The whole point of the liquor was to put something in his belly.
He had been allowed to bring his rifle, but not the breakfast in his stomach. This game really was cursed. A funny thought.
He stowed the gin in his backpack and moved on. Consumables like alcohol had diminishing returns, but also diminishing costs. The gin would never give him more than 2 Mind before it started taking points away instead, and it would not continue to rob him of Bile at the same rate, though it could bring that meter to zero if he drank himself to death.
Blood, Breath, Bile, Mind, and Spirit. The Vitals, as they were called. They were a source of magic, but also measures of health. If any of them reached zero, he would die.
The houses and businesses around the pub were similarly abandoned. Hollis noticed that most of them were not simply left untouched. Their owners had packed whatever valuables they could carry and run. That made some sense. There were no bodies in the street. No mass graves dug, as far as he could see.
Whatever calamity had befallen Beckett's Sound had come with a warning, and the people had heeded it.
As he walked down a dusty side street, he spotted in the distance a familiar beast.
[Vigilance lvl. 6] You see a peltwalker on the hunt. The pelt is from a wolf, and the body from a boar. This strikes you as a potent and dangerous combination.
You slide your rifle off your shoulder in a quick, practiced motion.
[Naturalism lvl. 5] You look at the trees to get the direction of the wind, knowing that peltwalkers hunt by scent.
In fact, Hollis did not know, for sure, that peltwalkers hunted by scent. How would he know that? The game had been limited. The world was navigated by clicking arrows to move through a glorified slideshow. If a monster appeared on screen, it could chase you. There was no mechanism for staying downwind from a predator.
Hollis found a balcony on a nearby building that seemed sturdy enough. He climbed it easily. [Traversal lvl. 4]. From there, he quietly got to the roof of the building and followed the path the undead wolf took without it catching his scent [Sneaking lvl. 5], [Tracking lvl. 5].
All of these numbers came at him at once. These were skills. In the tutorial, they started at level one, which was the level of an untrained person. Hollis was given the ability to assign twelve extra points wherever he wanted to build his character as he discovered new skills throughout the tutorial. A player might expect to be able to gain proficiency in a quarter of the available skills before leaving Beckett's Sound. Explorers were meant to be specialized.
After that, improvement came slowly.
Here, actually in Periapt, his skill levels seemed to have been based on Hollis' real-world abilities. Because his Naturalism score was high for the start of the game, the inspector was giving him information he didn't know. That was its most important function. If you rolled an archaeologist-type character, the inspector would be the source of your character's vast knowledge.
Years had been spent in anticipation of his trip to the lost continent. He had no idea all that training might give him such a boost in the game. It made sense to him. This was a role-playing game, after all. He had trained in survivalism and hunting to the point of exhaustion. Why wouldn't those skills transfer?
Good news at last.
He continued to follow the peltwalker, as the ragged wolf pelt forced its host boar to sniff out prey in the ruins of old Beckett's Sound.
Predators did not come to town often. It was one of the most important rules of surviving Periapt. The further you strayed from civilization, the bigger the animals got. Seeing a peltwalker here confirmed that no human had been here in a long time. He would need to be prepared for a fight at any moment.
"How many free points do I have?" he asked, hoping his inspector worked that way.
You have 12 assignable points. Your past is still unwritten.
You have not selected a Temper. Growth will be slowed until you do.
That was reassuring. Because of the inflated levels of his skills, he could keep those free points in his pocket until he needed them.
As for the peltwalker, a beast like that could not be allowed to roam free. Hollis had vowed to protect the settlers of Periapt from all dangers that beset them. Until he found people to protect, he would have to spend his time making this place safe.
You are hungry.
The inspector reassured him.
Yes, I know, he thought. But not for long.