Tutorial Mode
833 Words
The NPC materialized in front of me like a bad CGI effect from a low-budget movie.
One moment I was staring at an empty patch of grass, prodding the ground with my boot to see if anything would glitch or stutter, and the next there was a figure in flowing robes standing close enough that I stumbled backward two full steps and nearly sat down in the wildflowers. My heart slammed into my ribs. My hands came up on pure instinct, which was embarrassing, because what exactly was I going to do, punch a tutorial NPC?
Probably not the worst idea I'd had today, but still.
The figure wore the kind of serene smile that made me want to put my fist through something. Tall, ethereal, silver hair moving in a breeze that didn't exist. Eyes an impossible shade of violet that glowed with inner light. Everything about them screamed "mystical guide" in the most aggressively generic fantasy way possible.
"Greetings, Player One," the NPC said.
My blood turned to ice water.
That voice. That exact inflection, that specific warmth calibrated to feel welcoming without being cloying. I knew it because I had recorded it myself during a late-night session when our budget couldn't stretch to real voice talent. I had sat in a coat closet we'd converted into a recording booth, reading lines into a sixty-dollar microphone, feeling vaguely ridiculous.
I did not feel ridiculous now.
"Welcome to Respawn," they continued, hands clasped like a digital monk. "I am Tutorial Guide Meridian, and I will be explaining the fundamental mechanics of your new existence."
My new existence. The words landed like a fist. I stood there in the too-perfect meadow, wearing clothes that weren't mine, in a body that moved slightly too well, listening to my own voice explain my own game to me, and felt something cold and specific settle in my stomach.
Guilt. That was what it was. Actual guilt, which was not an emotion I had spent a lot of time with during development.
"Yeah, thanks," I said, fighting to keep my voice level. "I know how this works. I created you. Lee Zhang, lead developer. Ring any bells?"
Meridian's expression didn't shift by a single pixel. "All players must complete the tutorial sequence before advancing. This ensures optimal gameplay experience and reduces support tickets."
Support tickets. I had written that line as a joke. A little wink to players who would recognize the corporate language and appreciate the irony. Standing here listening to my own voice deliver it back to me with complete sincerity, I did not appreciate the irony at all.
"I need to access the admin console," I said, keeping my tone deliberate. "There has been some kind of catastrophic error. Players are not supposed to actually be inside the game. We use VR interfaces, external hardware. Whatever is happening here is not supposed to be possible."
"Tutorial cannot be skipped," Meridian replied, with the infinite patience of an entity that had never once been frustrated.
I turned away from them for a moment, jaw tight, and crouched down to press my palm flat against the ground. The dirt was gritty and specific under my fingers. I grabbed a handful and let it fall, watching each individual particle drop. I reached out and snapped a stem off the nearest wildflower. It came away clean, leaving a tiny wound in the stalk that beaded with something like sap.
No seams. No render artifacts. No pop-in at the edges of my vision. Whatever engine was running this, it was not cutting any corners.
I stood back up and faced Meridian. "Fine. Death mechanics. Walk me through it."
Meridian's smile somehow became even more beatific. "Excellent choice. In Respawn, death is not merely an inconvenience. It is a precious resource to be carefully managed."
The way they said precious resource made my skin crawl in a way that had nothing to do with the breeze. I had thought I was being clever when I wrote that line. Provocative. The kind of design philosophy statement that would get quoted in game journalism think-pieces about difficulty and player respect.
Now it sounded like something being read at a sentencing hearing.
"Each player begins with seven lives," Meridian continued, gesturing to the air. My HUD projected outward, floating beside them like a presentation slide.
LIVES REMAINING: 7/7
"These lives are not renewable through conventional means," Meridian said. "No respawn tokens, no resurrection spells, no checkpoint saves. When a life is lost, it is gone forever."
I watched my own system being explained to me and felt the guilt twist into something sharper. I had been so proud of this. So convinced it would create meaningful tension. Real stakes. The kind of experience that separated Respawn from every other game that handed out second chances like candy. Marcus had said it was too hardcore. I had laughed and told him that was the point.
Marcus had been right. I had been an i***t.
- Writer
