Journey to the Gate

In the middle of the Taunforte Steppes, an area only populated by weaker monsters and the occasional rookie player, a man covered head to toe in black heavy armor frantically fumbles to find his map, checking it for about the eleventh time in the past five minutes, before cursing to himself under an exhausted sigh.

"It shouldn't be possible to get lost in a goddamn starter zone," the man mumbles, before scanning his peripheral vision for any possible paths or landmarks. 

The man, who is called Locke, is one of many new players in this virtual reality online game, which has become a phenomenon all over again since the release of its new expansion. Simply called "Realm", the release of its new expansion coincided with the game's seventh anniversary since launching to the public. Locke, however, has never been that impressed by the marvels of virtual reality. He's old enough to remember the days of bulky headsets tethered to long, unwieldy cords, and despite the advancements made in the years since, the experience of exploring Realm feels no less uncanny to him. Case in point, he's been in this beginner zone for two hours straight now.

Suddenly, his eyes meet with another player - evidently a Ranger, from his outfit and choice of weapon - who has just entered his field of view. Meekly, he approaches him. "Hey, uh, you mind helping a noob out?"

The Ranger turns to Locke, and shrugs. "I dunno how much help I can be, honestly, but shoot."

"Right," Locke eagerly opens his map, displaying a floating menu screen in front of the two of them. "So, I've got a quest that takes me to the Scourgelands, and I think I'm supposed to go up here..." Locke taps the map screen, marking a location with a pin icon. "...but I have no clue how to even get up there. There's really steep cliffs in every direction I look."

"Ah, yeah, I can see why you'd get tripped up by that." The Ranger gestures as if he's going to point out a route, but hesitates as he ponders how to phrase it. After a moment of silent hand-waving, he sighs and says, "Well, it's hard to explain, but I can show you the way if you want."

"That'd be great, thanks." Locke breathes a sigh of relief before closing the menu. As he examines the Ranger's peculiar body language, another menu slowly fades into his vision, detailing the Ranger's basic stats and identity. Apparently, his name is Fynn - or at least, that's the part of his username that is legible to him - and is only a couple levels higher than Locke himself, at level 36. 

As Fynn leads Locke down a barely visible path, he turns to Locke curiously, examining his stat page as well. "So... Locke?" Fynn asks, "I guess I should ask, but you are aware of the certain... reputation that the Scourgelands have?" 

"Uh, to an extent," Locke admits, "but I don't have a guild or anything, so I've just heard secondhand stories..." 

"Yeah, figures..." Fynn says, "I guess I should tell you now, you're probably better off just abandoning that quest, man. Place is a mess, in more ways than one." 

"I take it you've been there?" Locke inquires curiously, not even remotely dissuaded by the vague warning.

"Only once, and never again, pal." Fynn scowls, clearly concerned. "I dunno why, but the devs just haven't touched that place since it first released in 2032, y'know. With 'Skies of Alderheim'. Would be buggy on its own just 'cuz of that, but it doesn't end there." 

"That bad, huh? Why am I not surprised," Locke scoffs.

"Yeah, well, y'know it's got PvP permanently enabled there? That's on purpose, but it doesn't make things any easier for you," Fynn continues, "seeing as how the only people who still fight there take advantage of the lack of support it gets. There's no telling what ancient glitch a guy could pull out of their ass to ruin your day in there."

Locke stifles a yawn before looking to his left. A low-level Warg is stuck halfway inside a rock, spasming wildly as it seemingly walks in place. "I dunno, man, the whole game feels kinda broken sometimes," he exclaims.

"Yeah, okay, but don't say I didn't warn you, alright?" Fynn sighs defeatedly. "We're nearly there, anyhow." 

As the pair walks up a slope in the path, a large majestic gate stretches out in front of them. "This is it," says Fynn. "You're gonna want to set your spawn point here." 

"Already on it," Locke replies as he interacts with the nearby shrine. After setting his spawn point in the menu, he slowly turns to Fynn. "Hey, just in case, can I add you to my friend-"

Peculiarly, however, Fynn is nowhere to be found.

"Guess he warped home," Locke says dejectedly, before stepping through the gate to the Scourgelands.

Once inside, the first thing he notices is the dim, foreboding redness of the sky, the horizon lined with jagged mountain peaks and rough hills. Immediately in front of him is a field of debris and wreckage, such as waylaid carriages, shattered barricades, and broken flagpoles. Ancient bones protrude from the ground at his feet, buried beneath years worth of sediment and dust. What little foliage there is, it's clearly dead, stripped completely bare of any leaves or color. 

Not the happiest place, apparently.