I want to be rich. Who doesn't? I think that person would be a fool if they reject money.
But I don't want to sound too greedy. Sometimes I think: 'maybe the universe is watching me, seeing how I'll react to a fat chest of gold bars and judging if I even deserve it.'
But that thought is stupid in itself. Why would the universe offer me money just to test me? There is no entertainment in my life, I'm just like the rest when it comes to my needs and wants.
And as much as people say money corrupts, in the end, I… just want a life more comfortable than the one I'm currently living in.
I don't want a mansion. I don't want a dozen foreign sports cars. I don't want to own multibillion dollar corporations.
I really would like to wake up in the morning and feed myself something other than ramen.
Hey, I don't blow my money on cigarettes or alcohol—as tempting as that seems at this point—so why am I still stuck in the same ditch as my apartment neighbor?
As I hobbled up the stairs, he must've heard the echo of my shoes against the metal, alerting that hobgoblin looking bastard of my presence.
"Kekeke—" His annoying laughter was cut off by a disgusting cough.
That didn't deter his face from following me towards my door. I didn't make eye contact with him as I fished for my keys. My eyelids were heavy; it felt like I'll pass out the second I step into my apartment. I could ignore the apocalyptic car crash I passed at route 55 earlier, but I couldn't tune out Martinez's grating voice.
"Not even gon' say hi?" He cackled. "Kids these days! Can't even—"
Another cough, punctuated by the faint jingling of my keys as I sorted through them.
"Can't even greet ya' elders right. My kids' just like you, leavin' me in the dust after I raised 'em all." He cleared his throat. I could feel his condescending eyes searing into the side of my head.
I could imagine prying them out and cramming them up that geezer's nostrils. He looked like he could snort broccoli from a bowl.
Which was why if I were rich, I'd be relaxing in a peaceful gated community. Scratch that, maybe a cabin by a lake.
Yeah, that'd be nice.
"Boy, are you even listening? Tsk tsk, gone deaf before me? Kahaha!"
"Ugh." I furrowed my brows at the spittle flying from his mouth.
"Ugh what? What's with the attitude, ah? Boy, if you—"
"Preach, big guy."
The door closing behind me cut me off from his vision. My hasty steps took me from that unfortunate situation before I snapped, and it was one of the few moments where I genuinely cherished the serenity of my shitty little apartment.
I kicked off my shoes and dropped my bag in the hallway leading in. The same dull lights greeted me when I flicked on the switch. The same floorboard creaked under my step. The same closet rattled when I opened it.
The same. The same. The same.
The same.
I wish the shower head drizzled little gold stones instead of water. Maybe if I were rich.
Yet that silly thought left as quick as it came. I chuckled, turning off the water and stepping out to dry myself.
The shower did good in easing the tension from my nerves and took a bit of the fatigue from my shoulders. I had enough energy to make myself a quick meal and get on the game.
Nothing better than booting up the computer with a bowl of hot noodles steaming my chin.
It took a while. The fans starting up kept me company while I ate.
The same boot up chime, the same password. The same screen.
Muscle memory guided the mouse in my hand to the lower left, double-clicking the icon displaying a bloodied compass.
'Beyond The Sanctum: Imperia.'
"It never gets any less corny," I chortled, "tabletop games were your lifeblood after all."
The screen was the same bloodied compass amidst a black background. The compass radiated a soft vermillion glow and the loading bar below matched the scheme. I watched the red bar slowly creep towards the end.
By the time the title screen loaded in, I had finished half my bowl.
Compared to most modern games, the title screen is a bit lackluster. There was no change as the compass remained still at the center of the page. The real magic only happened when the player clicked [New Game].
I've been playing this game for nearly a decade now. A friend of mine had a strange obsession with tabletop games. He studied well during college but never got his game development degree, yet that didn't stop him from putting his coding to use and creating this game.
I could remember those days of guinea pigging Sanctum. There were five of us in the group even, excluding the developer himself. We were all masquerading as gods of some outer realm that dictated the fate of the heroes we created.
Two of the group quit early from the difficulty. It was damn arduous to reach level 50 and even more taxing to get to level 99.
The skills one received, the weapons one could craft and upgrade, a good chunk of combat and so much more were heavily reliant on RNG. Someone with pathetic enough luck could die to a level 5 boar while being level 35.
This pissed us all off to the point we decided to call the boars 'Ebers', named after the developer, for making things so piss difficult.
Funny how Eber's name meant boar.
To be a cunt, he decided to make the game more tactic heavy.
I was shit at tactics so I dropped the game at lightspeed.
Strange how his death was the reason I picked up the game once again nearly a decade ago.
"It's really been a while, huh?" I whispered.
I really wish he was there to reply. In a way, I always felt like he was there to listen to the commentary I made on his unreleased game.
"I've leveled up all classes to 99, but I don't actually have the balls to challenge the Final Gate. You really went crazy with this, huh, Eber?"
I peered through the lineup of my characters. I was the only one who completed the set, but there was no one to flex this to. I have the last surviving copy of the game. No, the only owner of the Sanctum app at all since this one had little notes here and there.
Sorcerer, Barbarian, Knight, Pirate, Thief, Ranger, Archer, Priest, and Bard.
Each one decked out in full equipment with a 99 above their head.
Each one had a name; I believed each one was a character with their own personality and backstory. I've never written a story in my life but something had compelled me to do so for these fellas.
I contemplated one thing though. The [Continue] button was blue when I was on the [Character Select] page, meaning I could continue when I never selected a character.
So I did what any curious player would do: click the button.
Nothing happened. Well.
I moved on to playing the game for a little while, finishing up my noodles, and brushing my teeth before heading off to bed.
It'd be nice if something did happen. Like money falling on my lap.
That night was different.
I never had a dream so vivid. Come to think of it, I don't believe I dream during some nights at all. Either that or I just wake up and don't remember.
But this dream right here? It might be difficult to forget.
I was lying flat on my back, and below me was an endless void. A sea of black that stretched as far as the eye could see.
Yet above me was a kaleidoscope of colors. Vibrant shards streaked across the sky like meteors in the shape of diamonds, leaving glowing white streams from combined colors in their wake.
It was beautiful.
It made me feel at peace, like a lullaby that cleansed my memories of every and all stressors in my life.
I knew that was improbable as much as I wanted it to happen, but what if I wished upon a star? I feel like that'd give me peace of mind before the alarm clock hits.
And so I did, I wished.
"Money. Enough to not deal with the idiot next door." I asked with a bit too much enthusiasm in my tone.
I swore I saw something twinkle from beyond. Maybe I amused one of those shards with my wish.
"It's funny, right? Matter of fact, I think so too." I chuckled.
"I think too many people have wished for riches already anyway. Personally, I'd be sick of it."
I got no response back. Though, I'm so used to talking to myself that I just continued.
"I could wish to be taller, more handsome. I could wish for world peace, or end world hunger... but you've seen plenty of those guys, haven't you?"
And truth be told, while those would be great, I... wanted to be a little greedy. Those wishes wouldn't be answered anyway so why not just pour my heart out in my dreams and wake up feeling better?
I sighed, closing my eyes.
It was silent. No wind, nor any of that ringing in my ears to fill in the quiet void. Just me, my steady breathing, and the sky above me.
This had likely been the most lucid I've been in any dream up to date. I could clearly recall the fly buzzing around my boss's coffee mug and it was a memory from last Tuesday of all days. This also meant I could envision all the bills collecting on my table. Hospital bills, loans, etcetera.
It made me feel like shit.
"Yeah, nevermind." I smiled.
Just resting here was enough. I was never a sentimental person. Stewing in my feelings or pouring it out weren't traits I had in me.
That was what the game was for. Beyond The Sanctum: Imperia.
In there, I'm free to unload the stress accumulating from every day life onto mobs and bosses. I could hack and slash through hordes of centipedes with my barbarian, and my sorcerer would rain down lightning on the armies that dared to step foot on my territory.
Although they were characters of their own, I was someone greater. Someone who commanded fear and respect. My power afforded me more rights and less suffering than the commoner NPCs in the game.
Why? If I didn't like something, I'd get rid of it.
If I tried doing that in real life, I'd definitely be sentenced to life without parole.
Why couldn't I have been given such power? Not even magical abilities, but at least being born into a rich family that'd let me bum around.
I wanted it all.
'And if I were to be cast into another land, another time, I'd like to see what my fortune would be.' I thought.
I basked in the silence, half expecting my own dream to at least give me something decent before I'd wake up to another day.
Nothing came.
When I opened my eyes, the colors above moved on as quietly as ever. I was nothing to them, just as they were a mere sightseeing show to me.
'What was I expecting?'
I felt a little silly like a little kid wanting to be a superhero, but part of me believes there is nothing inherently wrong with wanting more. It's natural to have desires. It's human.
"And are these desires the result of dissatisfaction, or is dissatisfaction the result of your desire?"
Ah.
"Huh?"
My eyes snapped around. There was no one above or either side of me so I assumed it must've been some strange subconscious mechanism trying to speak to me. I've heard about this before, where people had a chat with their inner minds in their dreams and woke up to sunnier skies. I doubted that'd help me much but I could use anything at this point.
I fell silent, welcoming the voice and imploring it–or myself–to talk more.
I thought I sat in silence like an idiot for quite a while but at the very least the sky offered me enough peace to continue.
Yet a shadow at the corner of my eye caught my attention. When I turned my head to see if anything appeared by my side, I came face to face with an arm sticking straight out of the ground.
Startled, I flinched away, yet the arm made chase and clawed fingers caught me by the throat before I could get an inch away.
I choked out a gasp as I was pulled down into the sea of darkness below me.
Black enveloped my vision and it felt like I was struggling in damn quicksand, and the hand around my throat that was pulling me to the depths refused to lighten up or release me.
I clawed at the hand all I could yet the more I did, the tighter the grip became.
The fingers stabbed into the sides of my throat and it felt like if I struggled any further they'd pull my Adam's apple straight from my neck.
'What kind of fucking nightmare!?' I practically screamed in my mind.
My need for oxygen was rising and the adrenaline and fear mixed as suffocation set in. This all felt too real to be just a dream or nightmare.
My struggles kicked up once again despite the ferocious grip at my neck. Thrashing and turning and scratching, and the strength behind my punches were fizzed out by the darkness around me.
What was once a stable surface for me to rest upon had become a trap and the hand was the hook that dragged me to my doom.
I couldn't even see anything. Not my own hands, nor the arm. Nothing. It scared me.
'I don't want to die.'
I will wake up.
'Please.'
My alarm will ring any second now.
'Oh my G–'
…
"...-y…"
"...-hey!"
I must've lost consciousness somewhere along the journey.
Being shaken irritated my headache. I was groggy when I cracked open my eyes. Everything felt so cold, I felt so heavy; sleep sounded good after that ordeal.
I closed my eyes.
Unexpectedly, a furious slap to my cheek roused me to alertness. My hand shot up to nurse the side of my face as my eyes snapped open.
Above me was a strange looking man. He was dressed in some garb reminiscent of the pirates I've seen in various childhood movies, and it made me wonder if I got shifted to some strange phase in my dream after being drowned.
Either way, I didn't have the time to ponder my situation because–
"On your feet, son! The Varlet hasn't left yet!"
…What?
I looked over his shoulder, just beyond the wreckage of the ship I was on.
At the dark, heavy sea roiling with fury underneath a thundering sky.
At the many ships braving the stormy ocean.
The towering dark tentacles coiling above sea level.
"...What...?"