This game—did it just switch genres?

  It looks like a scene from Jurassic Park playing out in front of my eyes. An Ankylosaurus as big as a truck thrashes just ahead of me, swinging his whip-like tail with a club at the end into hostile occultist mobs.

  The bulk of Sherbert’s dinosaur form is slow, but that tail of his is an agile, deadly weapon. Now as I try and fight alongside him, it comes whipping around out of nowhere and catches me in the gut.

  [-70 HP]

  Oof!

  I fly backwards from the force of the blow and crash into a tree.

  “Soh-reee!” I hear my friend’s clumsy, low pitched cry. I guess it’s a bit difficult to speak with a dinosaur mouth.

  “Never mind,” I say, shaking it off with a faint roll of my eyes. Guess I’ll stay out of the way and let him do his thing.

  We’re gonna be here all night…

  “You don’t like my Ankylosaurus form?” Sherbert says later when the mobs are dead. His big orange eyes shimmer with tears as we trot together through the darkness, making for the city of Pitola still a few miles away, according to the map.

  “It’s not that I don’t like it—it’s really cool,” I assure him. “If you’re going to have an animal form, this is way more awesome than anything else you could transform into. Better than a generic wolf or bear…”

  “Right?” In an instant he flips from sad and pathetic to eager and excited, his invisible tail wagging enthusiastically. “It’s every guy’s dream! Who didn’t pretend to be a dinosaur when they were a kid?! And Ankylosaurus is just the coolest, don’t you think, Rev? With his spiky back and his big knobby tail…”

  “Yeah, it’s great—”

  “Ankylosaurus is my favorite dinosaur! Did you know it was so powerful and so heavily armored, it could even kill a T-Rex! Not many dinosaurs could kill a T-Rex, you know.”

  “Yeah… Anyway about your character—”

  “And it was an herbivore, so it only fought when it had to. It wasn’t out to eat the T-Rex, just defend itself and it’s family. It’s what I like best about the Ankylosaurus. What about you, Rev? What’s your favorite dinosaur?”

  He’s looking at me again, as excited as a kid as he goes on and on about his favorite dinosaur. This guy. I’m beginning to see why he doesn’t have any friends irl. Not that I mind his personality type, so much. Actually, I’m kind of glad he’s so talkative, since it saves me the trouble of having to fill any awkward silence.

  “Spinosaurus.”

  Sherbert blinks at me.

  “It’s—”

  “I know what it is.”

  Ah. What’s this? Awkward silence?!

  “Spinosaurus—” I clear my throat, “could also kill a T-Rex.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “Spinosaurus would lie in wait in the water. Then, when T-Rex’s guard was down and it came to drink, it would strike. And then it would eat him.”

  “Yeah…”

  “Why do you sound disappointed?”

  “I just imagined you being an herbivore type… Maybe a Triceratops or an Iguanodon…”

  What’s this, now? Was he hoping to form some kind of herbivore club? Not all whales eat plankton—he knows this, right? And me, I may seem dull and unassuming, but I didn’t get to be the top player in seven different MMO’s on my parent’s money, alone.

  Hard work, patience, tenacity, and yes, even ambush, these are my tools. It’s like Ari said. When it comes to being the best, there’s no length I wouldn’t go to. If it meant staying up all night and all the next day, even if it meant grinding for 48 hours straight, I’d do it. And I’d eat any player at all, who got in my way…

  “Anyway, Sherbert—”

  “Sherbie,” he corrects me, then blushes slightly. “My name’s Herbert, but my family call me Herbie. Go ahead and call me Sherbie.”

  “Right. Sherbie. I know you really like your dinosaur form, and I agree it’s way cool. I’m just not sure it’s what we need right now.”

  He listens to me carefully as we continue to trot through the forest.

  “Your character is versatile,” I try to explain to him. “You can play a tank or a healer. I can’t do that—I can only play a tank. So I just think, while we’re in a party, it makes more sense for you to focus on healing spells and let me do the tanking.”

  Sherbert’s eyes brighten visibly. “I get it. That would help you out a lot, right?”

  “A lot,” I assure him, sighing faintly.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “I want to be helpful. It’s why I made a druid healer in the first place. I like being in a party, being around people. It’s why I played XYZ games, so I could join a guild and have lots of people to talk to,” he says, then he gets this sad sort of smile. “Of course, once they realized I’d foot the bill for all the guild’s expenses, they were only too happy to have me. That’s…how it usually goes.”

  “If you like being in a party, you should focus on your role. In this case, you’re my healer. You can still keep your dinosaur form for soloing when I’m not around, but while you’re with me, I really need you to focus on heals, especially percentage based heals,” I urge him, carefully but deliberately pulling him in the direction that will most supplement my character.

  This much should be ok, right? It’s not like I’m asking him to give up anything for my sake. Yet…

  “I can do that. I think I still have a few open skill slots for learning more healing spells.”

  “Spells that buff the party would help too. You said something before about learning skills in the Druid’s Enclave?”

  “Yeah. It’s a place I found in this area. They have all kinds of elders and teachers, and if you’re a druid they let you learn any skills you want for free.”

  “Could non-druids learn these skills?”

  “That’s what I understand. Someone said they just had to do a quest first to prove their allegiance to nature. Then they could buy the skills.”

  Interesting.

  “After we make the guild, let’s go to the Druid Enclave,” I decide. “We’ll use the druid’s skills to round out your character, and make you a better party healer. Sound good?”

  “Sounds great!” Sherbie says excitedly. “I was hoping you’d help me fix my character, I know it’s a bit busted as it is, but I can’t be beyond help. Just, don’t ask me to learn any skills over my Ankylosaurus form.”

  Idiot. Why do you think your build’s busted? You cut your Intelligence in half to give Strength to your physical form. You’ve made yourself a crappy tank and a worse healer.

  But I can’t say that to Sherbie, this pure-hearted, innocent guy. The first friend I ever made in Tetra Chronicles, or anywhere else. My only friend.

  We run on. Occasionally we stop to fight hostile mobs. I manage to convince Sherbie to remain in his spell casting form and support me from behind while I deal with the attackers. A far more efficient solution.

  “Wow, I leveled up!” Sherbie exclaims. “I’m getting so much experience with you, nice!”

  “Put your points into Intelligence,” I advise him.

  “Right,” he says, making the selection on his screen. We press on.

  After another hour of this, cresting a small hill, at last we see lights in the distance.

  “Pitola. It’s the main city for this area,” Sherbie explains. He’s a lower level than me, but he knows this area far better than me thanks to the week or so I spent underground, grinding like a madman.

  It’s night, but the city is bustling, with thousands of players running here and there. From looking at the map, I’d more or less gathered it would be like this. This game was designed to funnel players from smaller areas slowly into bigger and bigger centralized areas. The cities will only get bigger from here on out, as every player in Cello presses on towards the major destinations.

  Consulting our maps, we make our way towards the guild office. On the way, we pass the auction house. I consider the rare loot in my bag, the minotaur’s axes and the amulet I found in the goblin city. I might try my hand at selling them here. Or I might bring them with me and store them in the guild bank for future guild members who might find them useful.

  Future guild members. I feel strangely giddy just thinking about it. Friends, brothers in arms, all working together, pressing on towards a single goal. Is this how my ancestors felt, my ancient clansmen, as they banded together under a single banner? Will I be the next Finn McCool? Mythical leader of my clan, hero of legend?

  “We only need two members to form a guild, good thing,” Sherbie informs me after visiting the desk and speaking with an efficient looking half-orc secretary with spectacles and a starched shirt. “I’ve already filled out most of the paperwork. You’re ok being clan leader? I’m hopeless at stuff like that.”

  “Oh. Yeah, I guess that’s fine.”

  “We’re going with The Whales, right?”

  “Yeah,” I say with an excited, tingly feeling.

  “Right… The Whales…” he interacts with his screen, typing out the name. “Oh. We get to design our guild tabard. Come look at this.”

  “I’m not very good with artsy stuff…”

  “I am,” he informs me confidently. “I’m going to school for graphic design.”

  “You’re in university? How old are you?”

  “Nineteen. You?”

  “I’m eighteen,” I say, watching as he sketches out a whale design with his finger. “Funny.”

  “What is?”

  “I just thought you’d be younger than me…”

  “Yeah? You must be starting university soon.”

  “August.”

  “Got a major picked out?”

  “Well that’s…complicated…” I say, trailing off. Perhaps sensing my discomfort, Sherbie drops the conversation very easily. He’s silent another minute or so, then speaks up abruptly.

  “What do you think of this for our crest?”

  “Actually, that’s pretty good,” I say, impressed. A stylized silhouette, the whale is facing right, its mouth showing in a happy smile as it blows drops of water out of its spout. “But, maybe a little too cutesy?”

  With a few effortless strokes, Sherbie tones down the cartoonish aspects, leaving us with a solid whale design.

  “Now for our tabard pattern. I’m thinking checkers. We’ll each choose our favorite color, how’s that?”

  “I guess.”

  “Mine’s peach,” he says with way too much confidence, selecting the shade he wants from the color wheel. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “I’m just not sure I’ve ever heard a man say his favorite color was peach before.”

  “Should I pick a different one?” he says anxiously, panicking.

  “No, it’s fine. As for my favorite color…brown.”

  Now Sherbie’s staring at me with the same look I was giving him earlier.

  “What?” I say, self conscious.

  “I’m just not sure I’ve ever heard anyone say their favorite color was brown before.”

  “Is it bad?”

  “Nah. It’s cool. As for our tabard design, well, conceptually, it’s a bit all over the place. But I like it. What about you?”

  “Yeah. Let’s go with this.”

  A few minutes later I’m standing outside the guild office with an even more giddy feeling, wearing our customized guild tabard skin. It’s like a tartan. Our very own clan colors. For some reason I’m stupidly, ridiculously happy about it.

  “While we’re here, we should try recruiting some more guild members,” Sherbie says.

  “More?”

  “Well, yeah. We need at least five to run a dungeon. Anyway, tanks and healers are rare—damage dealers will be lining up to join The Whales.”

  “You think so?”

  “For sure. If we just hang outside the guild office for a while, we’re sure to attract some members. Look, other guilds are doing it,” he says, indicating to players walking around, talking with passersby, attempting to recruit them to their newly formed guilds.

  Right. Well, I never would have figured myself for a solicitor, but, if it means building up The Whales…

  Gulp.

  Guess now this is where I’ll really see the results of my character growth. If I can manage to get through this without despawning, I’ll know for sure I’m changed. Maybe even enough to tell my parents they can go to hell with their ideas for my future, and pursue my dream career in the gaming industry.

  Well. One trial at a time.

  “Excuse me,” I say with a boldness that startles even myself, striding up to the first man I see and tapping his shoulder. He turns with a sneer, and I realize a moment too late he’s already part of a guild. What’s it called? LoveCherry?

  Wait a minute. I know this guy. Don’t tell me, it’s—

  Dario?!

  “Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”