Starting Class

Peter finished drinking his soda can and fiddled with the black and white controller in his hands. It was happening again! At the beginning of yet another (hopefully) wonderful journey through a beautiful but dangerous world, paralysis of choice was real.

There were twelve possible starting classes, all of which with pros and cons. Should he go with the hard-headed Barbarian that was a pinnacle of strength but had no magic defense or perhaps listen to the call of forbidden spells with the incredibly deadly (but also a glass cannon) Necromancer? How about trying a mixed build for a change by embracing the combination of an elite soldier with an array of death-defying magic in the form of an Enchanted Knight? Decisions, decisions…

For twenty-five minutes, he stared at the selection screen, checking every attribute over and over while trying to figure out what his optimal playstyle would be. Sure, he could always respec at some point and try something different, but it was best to start with a clear idea instead of fumbling around and the ideas refused to come.

“Damn it!” he grumbled.

“You still haven’t started?” His girlfriend, Francine, asked as she sat beside him on the basement couch. “What’s taking you so long?”

“It’s not as easy as it seems.”

“Sure, it is. Choose one and start the game. See how it feels in the first couple of minutes and if you don’t like it, start a new file until you’re pleased with the results.”

“And lose whatever progress I make each time?”

“Honey, you’re going to die over and over anyway until you reach the end, so why are you worried about that now?”

“I just want to want to do this from the start, that’s all.”

“Hmmm… would it help if I gave you a little nudge?”

“It depends on what you have in mind.”

“You’ll know in a minute. Lay down the controller and loosen those shoulders. Keep your eyes on the screen, okay? Don’t look at me.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Do you trust me?”

“Always.”

“Then do as I ask. Stare at the TV and don’t think of anything else. Clear your mind, dear.”

Peter took a deep breath, stretched himself, and smiled when he felt her glide to the back of the sofa, her long fingers wrapping around his shoulders. He loved a good massage as much as anyone else, but that was only part of the story.

“I get where you’re going with this…”

“If you do, keep quiet. I won’t say it again.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Francine gently squeezed the muscles on his shoulders, releasing the pockets of tension still present there. Then she said,

“Ours is a world of decisions. Every day we’re confronted with hundreds if not thousands of micro-situations that demand us to select one action as opposed to another, but if we were to consider them all on a conscious level, we would get nothing done. Imagine if at every inhale you had to think whether you wanted to continue breathing or not or if you had to give yourself permission to place one foot in front of the other whenever you wanted to go somewhere. It would be a mess, complete chaos, which is why our minds and bodies process things like this automatically. Not thinking about the process ensures that the action is done, so if you don’t think about the class you want to play with, then surely the class will come to you, right?

“Actually, no, for the choices you’ve been presented with aren’t all there is. There’s in fact another class, one that’s hidden, and that can only be found if your thoughts remain clear and your mind is uncluttered by the weight of failed decisions. This special class has been inside you since the start and if you keep looking at the screen, and trying to see past it, you can see it taking shape, so forget the vagabonds, the magicians, and the warriors with wolf heads. The only thing you should focus on is letting my voice take you there, to the point where you suspend all decisions to let me be the one behind them, just like my physical body is behind you right now. To pull another person’s strings is a virtue. To allow oneself to be pulled like this is bliss. Let me guide you to the grace you seek. The only class in your present and future is…”

“Puppet…” he solemnly declared, as the world became blurry. “How could I forget?”

“I had you do it, but everything that’s forgotten can be remembered, and in this memory lies rebirth. Let me play with you again.”

“Gladly,” he continued to stare at the screen until everything went black. The only choice that mattered had been made on the day they met. Her games would never end.

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