A positive of all this destruction is that I have plenty of places to hide. Gigantic chunks of buildings, as well as the insane wildlife are my two main benefactors. Before I headed out I took a closer look at the map tab and found something very useful. Some monster hotspots are marked on the map as, for example, a “Ghoul nest”. This makes it marginally easier for me to scout a route, seeing as I at least know the locations that have to be avoided at all costs.

My walk west is done low to the ground, with a pace slow enough to not make any significant noise. Making no noise is unfeasible, avoiding most gravel and glass patches is not. I haven’t encountered any more beasts yet, which I find weird. If it weren’t for the occasional ghoul shriek one could totally mistake this place for empty. The density of monsters is surprisingly forgiving.

I come across what looks like a small sinkhole filled with water. Should I wash my hair and change clothes here? If I was quick I could do it in a minute or two, but if I’m caught mid act I’d be dead.

In the end I decide the blood is more dangerous. Extracting my new clothes is as easy as saying retrieve clothes. I put them by the edge of the water and then finally get naked. Modesty is pretty far down on my list of priorities.

I dip my finger into the pool, just to make sure this isn’t some alien super-poison that looks identical to muddy water. It’s not. I’m almost surprised, actually.

Quietly descending into the pool, I hit the ground at about belly-height. On the count of three I go under, dragging my fingers through my hair in a desperate attempt at cleaning. Once I feel I’ve gotten as much as possible out I go back up, a heavy intake of air following behind me.

I drag myself back up and out of the sinkhole. The shining sun and warm breeze tell me I’m in no danger of hypothermia. Believe it or not, it was quite nice (if you ignore the fact that it was dirty). Look for joy in the small things, as they say.

I wipe myself off with the few parts of my old garb that aren’t covered in blood. My new clothes come on quickly, and I already feel much better. In the movies they never mention the toll being covered in your own blood takes on you. Very unpleasant.

My shoes are tied and I’m ready to go, just one last thing. I wrap my old clothes into a bundle around a rock and carefully lower it into the pool. Wouldn’t want them to get a scent on me, if they even can smell. Better safe than sorry.

I imagine I must look extremely out of place. My jacket and pants are both a classic camouflage pattern in green, brown, and black. Ironic how I’m dressed as a hunter when I’m the prey. Let’s get moving, I have hunters to avoid.

After walking for another five minutes without trouble, I notice something peculiar a few yards ahead of me. The air shimmers and bends in a weird pattern. Suddenly, the distortion is packed tightly into itself. Where have I seen this before?

A spider the size a fully-grown man snaps into reality. I dive behind a nearby overgrown root, offering a silent prayer to the appropriate being. Breathe slowly. Sit still.

Now I remember what it reminds me of. It looked like a scaled-up version of the inventory transportation.

The spider is making weird noises, like a subdued or tired hiss. I have no idea what kind of sound a spider usually makes, but I can’t imagine it’s that. Gathering my courage, I hold my breath and glance over the root.

Juvenile Arachnid, 23

The spider is flat on its stomach, facing the other direction. Some of its legs are raised in what looks like a futile attempt to stand. It keeps trying to get up, managing to stay upright a bit longer every time.

Do I move? I probably only have a few moments until it regains control.

No, that would be stupid. I’m well covered in the corner of this root, if I move there’s a good chance I alert the spider. I’m dead either way, so pick the least likely option.

It proves a good decision as I soon the hear the hissing stop. I can hear soft taps as the spider prods and analyzes the situation, like the Bloodbat did.

Wait, is this supposed to simulate spawning? I guess the mobs have to come from somewhere, but the way it appeared reminds me of the inventory teleportation. The fact that they’re dazed when they spawn is also weird, but works in my favor.

My thinking is interrupted as the telltale screech of a Ghoul rings out. Another follows shortly after. The spider begins an agitated hiss in response.

The spider moves toward the ghouls (or I assume it is, based on the muffled tap noise becoming more and more quiet).

Their attention is occupied, so I stick out my head once more. The three monsters are engaged in an already bloody fight.

I had already decided I wouldn’t even try to fight any of the beasts in my escape. I was obviously outclassed, but I’m just now realizing how outclassed. In the approximately five seconds since the spider began moving, one of the ghouls has lost an arm, and the other is covered in what looks like a pale green acid. Unbelievably fast.

The fight isn’t over yet though. Even though both ghouls are hurt, they don’t seem affected. They’re now circling the spider, dividing its focus.

It’s hard to see from here, but I can just barely pick out how the ghouls are currently sporting claws. Long, translucent, spike-like talons are hovering above their fingers. Magic?

Without warning, the ghouls attack. Throwing all ideas of defense to the curb, they get some good cuts in with their mad attack. The spider is struggling to find ways to attack without getting sliced in return. The fight continues like this for another few exchanges until the spider unexpectedly dashes away. As soon as the ghouls follow, the armless one gets a serving of acid to the face. It tears at its face for a few seconds while screaming, then hits the ground limp. Dead or dying.

Maybe not struggling as much I thought.

Why the hell am I watching this? Stupid question, I know exactly why I’m watching. It’s fascinating as hell. The better question is why I am stupid enough to prioritize the crazy interesting super-human monster fight over my own survival.

The actual fight isn’t what I’m worried about. Yes, they could potentially end up close to me, and I have no idea how they’d react to a third party. I’d die, most likely.

The real issue is if they call for backup, or if they already have. The ghouls usually travel in larger packs, and they seemed able to coordinate when fighting the spider. Wouldn’t be a stretch to assume they have some special shriek for “come help me please”. I don’t know much about the spiders, but it pays to be cautious.

The monsters are far enough away that they probably won’t hear or see me. I should have slipped away when it first began, but what can you do. I slink away from the root and circle around the massive tree. I end up at the foot of a long alley (remains of an alley might be more correct, this place is not in good condition). If the plants keep growing like this Fresno is going to be unrecognizable in a few days.

There’s another hunch I also would like to check out before I go too far in one direction. I open my map, checking for more markers. God damnit. There is now a third type of nest marker, belonging to the “Arachnids”. I was hoping the spider was just an outlier or something.

At least there aren’t any on top of me. The two closest nests are the only ones I have to worry about for the time being. There’s an Arachnid one north and a ghoul nest a bit farther south. If the ghouls are about to group up, I should avoid the path that goes from the nest to the combat area. That’s doable, wasn’t planning on going in that direction anyway

As I continue on my walk/crouch/jog west I keep thinking about what I just learned from that encounter. Most importantly, it seems the game isn’t finished “spawning” in it’s creatures. I might be on a tight schedule here. If only a small part of this places total species count are implemented now, that means the “forgiving” density of monsters might not be so forgiving after all. It means I have to get in as much distance now, while moving around is still relatively safe.

Is this happening because I’m outside the starting zone? Are they (the council of control, I think they were called?) focusing their resources where most people will be? Do they even need to think about petty stuff like “resources” or are they just straight up god-like beings?

That brings up another question, are there many others in my situation? There’s no way my group made it all the way to the coast on foot. I was stuck here for about three hours. I was pretty far gone so it’s hard to guess, but the suns placement (It’s few hours past noon) and my gut feeling tell me that’s somewhat close to the truth.

Although, our group was one of the last ones through (well, that’s hard to say for sure, but Fresno was completely abandoned by the time we got here). We were a group of stragglers caught in a series of unlucky situations. We were cut off by a horrible flood that made it impossible to move, setting us back many hours. When it finally subsided enough for us to cover some ground we get hit in the gut by a passing hurricane. We went around, but that thing was big, unnaturally so. We manage to get even further west, until our guardian angels all collectively roll a critical failure on the dice of life. Another fucking storm, even bigger this time.

So, we had this idea of west=safety implanted into our heads, were all in various degrees of shock, and had recently spent multiple hours waiting in suspense. Combine this with a lack of food and panic, and we sure as hell didn’t do the smart thing.

We decided to go through.

My hands run down to my side, probing for a wound that’s no longer there. That was a bad decision.

I should have gone with the rest of my family to go see my aunt. None of this would have happened. I’ve been trying my best to avoid thinking about them, but I can only play mental hide-and-seek for so long.

I was never huge on phone use, but right now I really wish I could give them a call. They had Amy with them, so if anybody were to make it out unscathed it would be them. My big sister is a great leader and always knows what to do.

(Far back, in the deep reaches of my mind I also know that between the earthquakes, storms, and flooding, nobody is beyond death. All it takes is one mistake, or one unfortunate event. I kill the thought before it reaches the forefront of my mind, useless.)

I keep on walking towards the waystone, periodically checking my map for new nests and doing my best not to think about family and friends. Eventually a new type of nest appears, belonging to something called a “Colossus”. I haven’t seen one yet, but they make themselves heard by sporadically roaring or smashing something. I prefer them over the spiders though, far more predictable.

Monster sightings become more common as time goes on. I haven’t had any more situations as scary as the spider vs ghouls fight, but I have spotted some other minor (more like “heard”, I’ve learned from my mistakes and now immediately avoid any potential confrontation) skirmishes. These monsters really do not like each other.

Checking my map again, I realize I’ve finally crossed the halfway point. The parts of the map that I have explored look as if somebody painted a long line on a pitch-black canvas. I sigh in relief. I might actually survive this.

Looking up from my screen, I catch sight of something I’d hoped to avoid seeing for the rest of my days. The intersection ahead is somewhat untouched (compared to the rest of the city). A huge pile of cars lie jumbled and twisted in the middle of the road.

The same thing happened in my hometown, as it probably did all over the world. I saw a few crashed cars on my way here, but most of them were empty, and the ones that weren’t were easily ignored.

Most of the cars in front of me still house their drivers and passengers. A few bodies lie strewn across the road, limbs in unnatural positions.

I stand to the side, leaning on a nearby boulder. Waiting patiently for the wave of nausea and sickness to come over me.