Author's Note:
Very excited to actually begin posting some of these! As an important note, the story is 100% based on the 3rd Life SMP which belongs to Grian and all the other wonderful content creators on YouTube! I highly, highly recommend you check them out! Afterall, I couldn't have created this without inspiration from them! (Give them a like and a subscribe, really, they're worth it!) But that being said, there is not meant to be any suggestive comments about the creators in regard to my characters! In many cases I based the personalities off of what fit the story than the actual creator with hints and tidbits scattered throughout that other fans could pick up on, but I mean nothing negative against the actual people! The characters are NOT meant to portray the real creators, hence the name changes. There will be no shipping, no language, and the rating is for imagery of blood and some dark themes around the deaths. Please enjoy:)
The YouTubers:
Gideon - Grian
Scout - Goodtimeswithscar
Redge - Rendog
Mark - Inthelittlewoods (Martin)
Chloe - ZombieCleo
Brock - BdoubleO100
Issac - ImpulseSV
Bryson - Bigbst4tz2
Jayden - SmallishBeans
Trent - TangoTek
Sebastian - MCSkizzleman
Ethan - EthosLab
Kim - SolidarityGaming (Jim, Tim)
Sean - dangthatsalongname (Scott)
3rd Life SMP… but a Novel
An Explosive Start
The game was not meant to be harmful.
"Is… is he ok?" Stunned silence surrounded the group. 13 individuals stood next to a heap of wool and fur dyed in red. The fourteenth, a young male dressed in a brown bomber jacket with a thick white fur collar, was lying unmoving at their feet. His battered body, torn at the waist, poured a waterfall of crimson onto the dusty path. A burn scarred his still face. Unmoving, chilled blue-green eyes were left wide open towards the sky.
When I designed it, anyways, it was meant to be as harmless as my favorite video game.
"It," Gray jeans hit blood and dirt. "It's not real."
"Sure looks real to me." A messy blond approached the fallen body. From the pocket of his charcoal colored vest he pulled a handkerchief. It was the same dark maroon as his shirt and pants. Black boots left heavy footsteps in the soft ground. With a delicate hand, he laid the piece of cloth over the crooked smirk pressed on the lips of the breathless body.
Somehow, something went wrong.
"Stop the simulation!" The one on his knees grabbed at fistfuls of his golden locks. "That's enough, I said, turn it off!"He jumped to his feet, trousers dripping with rosy mud.
"You've been blabbering since we woke up." A man with thick arms, wearing suspenders atop a neon red shirt and rolled up sleeves, grabbed the shoulder of the similarly colored crewneck-clad individual shouting at the sky. "What do you know, then?" Sweat soaked into the thick hair on the larger man's upper lip. It dripped onto the cheek of the startled captive, making him flinch. The grip tightened with no response, "Why are we here? And what do you have to do with it?" He towered over the other by nearly a foot. His height advantage was not unnoticed by the trembling Brit.
And then things just kept going wrong.
"I swear, it was not supposed to go like this! But…" The scrawny man tore his arm away and threw them up defensively. "He's not dead yet."
Maybe that was the worst part.
"Hey, grain-boy!" I shudder at the sound of his voice. Wiping my eyes with the crewneck, now crusty with the dried essence of life, I gather my smile to turn around. His eyes were lively but the burn scar still stretched across his face. "I see you've been making some bread. I hope you don't mind that I swiped a loaf." Then he just plopped down in the sand beside me, tearing the loaf in half and extending the larger part to myself.
"Oh, yeah, of course not." I choke the words past the lump in my throat. I had been trying for over an hour to dislodge it, with no such luck. It only tightens when I accept the parcel. "Take as much as you need." His eyes were piercing me. Just a few short hours before they were cold and empty against the bloody dust. Now so bright, shining like the sun, and the color not far from the same. They had paled to that of a nearly ripe banana. It was unnatural, frightening.
He looked out across the sandy dunes. We had settled down at the highest peak of this massive desert. Why in the sand? I don't know. Its heat, shifting grounds, and lack of life would surely come to be at our disadvantage. However, whatever this man wanted me to do, I was bound to do it. My life was sworn to him. After what I did, I would now defend it with my very own.
The game was supposed to be simple enough. Fourteen individuals entered the world with nothing but the clothes on their backs. Only one could walk out of it. Well… Not literally, of course, no one would actually die. It would be sort of like a game of laser tag. Though the physical body would be inside the game, all of the blows would be recorded electronically. A wrist piece would keep all the players updated on current events, health, and lives.
The rules were these:
You have three lives
On your third life, you have to kill other players
Unless you are on your third life or provoked by another player, you cannot kill
Apart from that, it was just a survival game. It was just supposed to be fun.
A number of ecosystems had been created and were maintained in a confined space for the players to explore. There were forests, deserts, and large grassy plains. Mechanical mobs roamed the premises to give the extra threat of danger. A variety of man-made structures were scattered around the map with valuable items for their benefit. The largest of these was a village with beds, houses, food, and other supplies in chests.
It was at this village that all fourteen first awoke. On their wrists were certain watch-like devices, but with no clock and several buttons. Some of the players attempted to remove it, to no avail. Pressing the center button caused a hologram to hover over the screen depicting 10 red hearts.
As for the village itself, it had no modern day housing. The houses they awoke in were makeshift, thrown together using wood and stone. The cots had no mattress but rather were laid with sheep's fur. Outside their windows they could see that rows of similar houses and other buildings sat within a green plain with sparing trees and flowers, fenced in livestock, and a birch forest in the distance. Following the clearly cut dirt paths, they gathered near the town's center asking each other questions. Among these were most prominently:
Who are you?
Where are we?
How did we get here?
And the game's creator was all too eager to tell them. However, his voice was drowned out by all the others. "It's a game!" He said, but they thought he was joking. "Just look at everyone's eyes," they were all the same green color, like that of a tree frog. Those who did hear him were only more confused. Questions about the eyes began to drown out his explanation for them, "See, we've all got three lives! Our green eyes will turn yellow, then red, and when we're red…" They weren't listening anyways, so he figured he would have to get their attention with something more serious. "Lots of things here want to kill us. The environment, little creatures, and eventually each other. See, these bits on our wrists alert us of our health and…" The voices doubled in volume. He huffed.
Off in the distance, the creator thought he may have recognized a certain creature in the game that would explode if it were in close proximity to a player. Its slender body was upheld by four tiny feet, all camouflaged to blend into the plot of ground it sat upon. When it moved, its mechanical body creeped across another path and readjusted its camouflage. Its own shadow gave it away. "Oh, I'll show you," running towards the machine, he drew its attention. Following ever so slowly behind him, the creator led it towards the group and braced himself for the blow. A hissing sound filled 28 ears as a bright light cascaded around the shadowy silhouette. 26 eyes fell on the crashing remains of a body. Large red bullets cut through the air.
The same man is now sitting alive and happy on a sandy dune next to his killer, next to me. My eyes are glued on him, but his are on the sun. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"
I allow myself to follow his gaze, but only because I am afraid he will mention that I am staring. "Yeah." And it was Off in the distance, a pond glistens with the pale orange and pink light of the retreating sun. The sound of rushing water off to our right. Not bad for a synthesized environment held together and maintained by a team of botanists, I think, but I should hardly be patting myself on the back right now. We stay to watch the sun disappear over the thick forest just beyond our sandy horizon. I swallow again, making very little leverage on the ever growing knot.
"Hey, thanks for sticking with me." His hand collides with my knee. I nearly jumped off the cliffside. "And no hard feelings, remember?" He turns to look at me with that toothy smile. It makes my gut heave. No hard feelings? How? I destroyed his life, I caused him so much pain.
Maybe it was just because I swore my life to him. It couldn't make up for taking his, but it's all I can offer until I figure a way out of this mess.
"Maybe tomorrow we could take a swim in the river!" He beams, pointing down our mountainside. I take a deep breath and take to pointing out the inconsistencies in the flow. Clearly man-made, too many jagged edges. Too blocky. But I'm just looking for something to distract me.
I don't really know what to say. My efforts should be on getting out of here. But until then, we need to survive. "Shouldn't we try to gather supplies? Upgrade our base? I don't know, figure a way out of this?" The words spill out much harsher than I intend them. But we do need some sort of protection. Even if he has no intention of killing me, there are about twelve other people who probably do.
He doesn't appear to notice my tone and continues with, "Sure, we can do those things too. But hey, you put so much work into designing this game, so how about we enjoy it?" Is he serious? Enjoy it? Enjoy this? After what happened today?
At least if I had to kill someone, I killed the most forgiving person in the game. Maybe the most forgiving person in the world.
Images flood my mind. See, I call it a game, but what sort of game looks like that? No, this is not a game anymore.
"Oh, gosh," Several players pinned the yellow-eyed explorer to a cot by his flailing arms and legs. They crowded into the tiny hut to see him, face contorted and thrashing out of their grasp. "Oh, make it stop. Why is it still burning?" But I could only stay at the doorway, sick at the sight.
I shudder. It was meant to be harmless. "Yeah." My attention drifts to the diminishing parcels of wheat in his calloused palms. "Is there… is there anything else you need?" My hands shake in my lap.
"Yeah," he chuckles. I dread what will come next. Throw yourself off this cliff? Jump into the lava pool on the other side of this dreadful dessert? Drown myself in the river? And I would probably do them, too. "Enjoy this sunset with me." How? After the pain I put him through?
"You… You're a good guy." I smile. It's the only explanation I have. "It's been a long day, and I'm ashamed to ask–but I don't think I ever caught your name?" I laugh, but it's anything but funny.
"Eh, call me Scout." He bellows a deep chuckle in the pit of his stomach. A man with as slender a body as his should not be able to bellow a laugh like that. Even if he's got the muscles of superman. Perhaps a better word was hardy? Maybe he was trying to make it sound that way, like a pirate. Whatever it was, it was unique. As his stomach heaved with spouts of laughter, I couldn't help but stare at his abdomen. Now covered in wool and fur, untorn and not bloody like my own sweater, no one could have guessed this was the same battered body at our feet. "They called me that. My friends, I mean. Because of our explorations." He shrugs. "Sort of an inside joke, I suppose."
"Scout it is, then." I shook my head to break the trance. "And I'm Gideon."
"Too long, man," He waves his hand flippantly at me.
My eyebrow jumps. "It's only a letter more than yours?"
"What if I just call you G?" He studies me for a moment, hand on chin. "Yeah. Whadya think, G?" Nodding, he flashes another grin.
"Call me whatever you want." I laugh again. The lump in my throat loosens, and I take the opportunity to swallow it. I do not understand this man. But I guess I'm in this together with him. With any luck I'll figure out a way to take care of this situation before it gets any worse.
It was only ever meant to be a game, so how did he die? More importantly, how did he come back to life? If our physical bodies are here, real life bodies don't respawn… do they? The longer the day stretches on, I'm not sure I quite know the answer. I would like to say no, but the evidence is sitting right beside me. And if I'm being quite honest with myself I don't recall much about the events leading up to waking at the village. And I was supposed to know everyone in the game, but I don't recognize a single face. They were supposed to know, too. Weren't they?
I'll get it settled tomorrow with my team. As for tonight I definitely need some sleep. I shouldn't trust myself to lay down in the makeshift camp we have on the hill, not with the man I killed today and many more angry with me in the woods below, but exhausted I have little other choice. I pull a blanket I snagged from the village over myself and lay in the cooling sand just inside the bark walls. He does the same on the other side of the hut. So many questions could have kept my mind awake all night, but the adrenaline is wearing out now and I can hardly keep one eye open. One last thought circles through my mind as the cool night sweeps into the hut:
What happens when we lose our last life?
Author's Note:
Poor Gideon. So, if you're a Life Series fan, let me know in the comments... who do you watch? How'd you get introduced? I'll answer my own question at the start of the next upload!