There were over a dozen different designs for "waiting rooms" in Path of the Immortal, and more than a million slightly different layouts for furniture and decorations.
The idea was to make players slightly more interested when they wanted to play the game but had to wait for a patch to finish installing on the servers.
The waiting room into which Alexei spawned had the design of a cozy wilderness tavern.
It was constructed of hardwood with high rafters, a roaring fireplace, and a barkeeper NPC who also provided banking functions. Through the tavern's windows, dark trees loomed in a midnight forest, though the front door couldn't open to let players outside.
The players sat at the tavern tables, role-playing in the way only enthusiastic newbies could.
Many had ordered free "sample platters" of bread and cheese from the barkeeper. They provided no stat bonuses, but showed off the way Path of the Immortal made you feel like you were eating and drinking real food.
Alexei smiled to himself as he looked around. He remembered what it was like to be a newbie like this. 'I wish I could experience all this again for the first time,' he thought. 'I mean, I suppose that I "am…" but I wish I could forget it all and have a head full of dreams about a fun and adventurous future!'
Because even though he had a chance to do it all over again, nothing could replicate the wonder of seeing a boss smash through a fortress gate for the first time. Neither could Alexei experience the awe of coming over the ridge of a certain mountain range for the first time to behold a crystalline valley at dawn.
All of Path of the Immortal's beauty and wonder were old news to him. 'But still… Somehow, I feel a little better from the reminder that all "these" people still get to experience it for the first time!'
An arrogant voice burst into laughter from one side of the tavern room, and Alexei frowned as he looked in that direction.
The voice came from a player who was, clearly, a whale.
"Whale" was the term for players who spent the equivalent of thousands or more euros on Crystal Coins to buy everything they wanted.
This provided huge power advantages in many ways, as well as allowing players to customize their appearance to a high degree.
Alexei, being extremely poor his whole life, had never spent a single Crystal Coin on cosmetic items. On the rare occasions when he'd obtained a few Crystal Coins from events or trading, he'd always spent them on useful items to help him advance in power.
But, even though Path of the Immortal hadn't even launched yet, this player who was laughing arrogantly was clearly a whale!
His body was tall and abnormally slender, with delicate facial features and visible veins that made him look like a living corpse. That was fitting, as the player was a Necromancer.
He wore a full set of cosmetic Necromancer armor: dark purple robes with silver decorations all over them, as well as a silver-plated goblin skull as a belt buckle. A shield and a one-handed scythe were strapped to his back, each made of silver and surrounded by tiny, ghostly, green skulls that floated menacingly in the air.
Three skeletons stood behind the player, their arms crossed while they moved their fleshless skulls to glance around the room like secret service men.
This idle animation was another Crystal Coin purchase, as was the fact each skeleton was made of obsidian, with glowing green orbs burning in their eye sockets. Each of them held a simple spear in one hand, which they tapped impatiently against the floor.
The name above the Necromancer's head read "Daemon."
'Good job getting a name as basic as that!' Alexei thought. 'Even if the game hasn't launched yet, millions of people must have already made their accounts. How early did you make your account, exactly?'
He walked slowly toward Daemon's table, as whatever was going on there seemed to be the most interesting thing in the waiting room.
Daemon was laughing at a Paladin named Zamniel, which was… a bit of an odd name. The Paladin, unlike Daemon, was wearing the very basic chain mail, longsword, and shield which his class started with.
Zamniel seemed to be a little shorter than average—though it was hard to tell, since he was sitting. His slightly pudgy face was covered with a wispy, yellowish beard. If Daemon looked like a vampire or ghoul, then Zamniel looked like a middle-aged bookshop owner dressed up as a knight.
Finally, Daemon stopped laughing. "No, seriously, what's your real job?"
"I wasn't lying," Zamniel said in a mild voice. "I'm a Professor of Archeo-memetics. That means 'the study of ancient memes.' Though, of course, most of my area of study concerns memes that are only about fifty years old. Not really what any other historian would call 'ancient,' I suppose."
Alexei grinned and sat down at their table. He stole a piece of cheese from Zamniel's sample platter and bit into it.
Yep. That was cheese, all right. All cheeses in the game gave such low-tier stat bonuses that he hadn't eaten virtual cheese for years. He'd forgotten how tasty they could be.
"Never heard of people studying memes," said Alexei when the two players turned their heads toward him. "What's the point?"
Zamniel's face brightened. "Oh! The cheese is excellent, right? I can't believe how realistic they made it taste… compared to a mass-produced supermarket cheddar, anyway. Yes, the memes. You see, a 'meme' is just an idea that's been repeated. The act of sharing any idea is what 'makes' it a meme."
Daemon scoffed. "Let me guess, you're an American?"
Though they were all speaking their native languages—Shcarstani, in Alexei's case—one of the revolutionary features of the NeuroVR headsets was their ability to translate the intent of all speech into a form the hearer could understand in their own language.
Alexei briefly wondered how this worked when his brain was no longer alive and he simply lived within the game's code, but he tried not to think of uncomfortable questions like that. Not at the moment, at least, when he was still getting used to the new state of his existence.
Regardless, this translation technology also neutralized most features of accented voices. Therefore, it was difficult to tell where a person lived simply based on their speech.
But Zamniel nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, I'm a professor at the University of North Texas! Not to be confused with the University of Texas, of course." He didn't seem to realize that Daemon had been insulting him by implying he was an American.
"Typical," said Daemon. "Only Americans would find it worthwhile to pay someone to teach a class about meme history when there are so many other important things in the world to worry about!"
Alexei glanced at the trio of obsidian skeletons standing behind the necromancer. "As opposed," he said, "to spending hundreds of euros' worth of Crystal Coins before the game even begins?"
"Hey!" snapped Daemon. "I earn my paycheck fair and square! I can spend it on whatever I want!"
But even still, Zamniel didn't seem to take offense at the claim that his area of study was worthless. "I perfectly understand why people might find it strange to study memes, but it's one of the most important fields, in my mind."
"Naturally," said Alexei. "You have dedicated a big chunk of your life to studying it. It would be quite a tragedy if you went through all that and then thought it was actually a waste of time."
Zamniel laughed good-naturedly. "I suppose that's a good way of looking at it. Now, as I was saying—"
But Daemon rose to his feet and glared down at Alexei, who stared coolly back up at him from his seat at the tavern table.
"Look," Daemon growled. "I have no idea who you are, but you can't just come to my table and start making fun of my friend! Who exactly do you think you are?"
"Friend?" Alexei repeated. "It looked to me like 'you' were making fun of 'him.' You're making a pretty big deal out of nothing. Who's acting like an American now?"
This was the last straw.
Daemon snarled in anger and drew his scythe, slashing it across Alexei's face!
Nothing happened.
The scythe passed harmlessly through Alexei's character model.
In fact, Daemon's arm and weapon became nearly invisible as they passed close to Alexei's face, a game feature which preventing them from obscuring Alexei's vision.
"This isn't that kind of game," Alexei said in a mild voice. "You can't just start PvP out in the open, not unless you're in an open PvP zone. But if you really want… I'd be happy to duel you."
Daemon slashed several more times, as though, if he attacked long enough, one of the blows would connect… but eventually he dropped his arm. "Fine, you little punk! But when I win, you're gonna…"
The Necromancer frowned as his voice trailed off. "What exactly do Monks 'do?' Are you tanks or something?"
"We do whatever we need to," said Alexei. "But I get what you're saying. Yes. If you win, then I'll tank or DPS or whatever you need for the rest of the day, and I'll do it without complaining. You can even keep all the loot."
"That's right, you will!" Daemon said with a laugh. "And maybe it'll teach you some manners!"
Alexei nodded. An idea had just come into his head. "Maybe. But if I win, you'll give me 1000 Crystal Coins."
"Deal," said Daemon at once.
Alexei frowned. 'I should've asked for more,' he thought. 1000 Crystal Coins were worth about 10 euros, and that probably wasn't worth much to someone like Daemon—
But the Necromancer had already targeted Alexei, opened up his inspection menu, and had used it to create a duel request that hung in the air between them.
From his seat, Zamniel raised a tankard of virtual cider. "May the best man win!" he said happily.
Players were gathering from all around the tavern, forming a circle around the two. Voices rose in excitement all around them.
Alexei glanced around, making sure he had enough space to fight…
Then pressed the "Accept" button.
Immediately, the three obsidian skeletons leaped past Daemon and swung their spears to stab Alexei in the chest!