Live, Love, Level

In a world where virtual reality gaming lets players shape their own stories, Nick desperately wants to join the beta test for Omen Galaxica's revolutionary AI update. There's just one catch - he needs a partner who's never played before. Enter his mother Amanda, currently on bedrest during a difficult pregnancy. Together, they must rebuild the destroyed village of Donner's Beck while defending it from a notorious player-killer intent on wreaking havoc. But as virtual and real worlds blur, both Nick and Amanda discover that games aren't just about escape - they're about connection, growth, and finding your place in a rapidly changing world. A heartwarming tale of family, friendship, and finding meaning in unexpected places, perfect for:

• Gen X, millennials, and Gen Y (and boomers who know)
• parents and teens and people in-between
• gamers and people who love but are baffled by people who game
• dragon, AI, and pizza enthusiasts

AN EXCERPT FROM CHAPTER 3

WELCOME TO OMEN GALAXICA

BETA GROUP

ARE YOU READY FOR ADVENTURE?

Amanda wrinkled her nose. She did not at all feel ready for adventure, but she supposed this was as good as it was going to get. She thought ‘Yes’ and as promised, the cursor selected the right prompt.

AUTHORIZE WIRESET FULL IMMERSION?

This was for Nick, she reminded herself. And it would pass the time better than napping. Maybe. Again, she picked ‘yes.’

The flat black image she’d been staring at expanded, grew stars, swirled around her with audible ‘whooshing’ sounds. A cool wind swept over her arms. She hadn’t believed the packaging on the wiresets shipped them by the gaming company when they’d claimed she would feel like she was ‘really there’, but the illusion was unexpectedly convincing. She was floating in space, which was cool and smelled like… what? Ice cream? Or was that the first trimester talking? Ice cream sounded good, actually.

“Welcome,” a voice whispered, gentle, and the hair on the back of her neck rose.

“Thank you,” she said, to be polite, and then, “Ah… to whom am I speaking?” because it was a little bit creepy.

A wisp of light flowed around her and compacted into a ball, bobbing. “I am the guide,” the voice said. “This is the new character creation screen. You seem perturbed. If this is a manifestation of agoraphobia, I can initialize the original character creation routine.”

“What was it like?” Amanda asked.

“It simulated a wizard’s study. The guide took the form of an elderly sorcerer.”

That made her smile. “Long beard, big hat, spectacles?”

“Yes.”

“That sounds very comforting,” Amanda said. “Is there a reason I’m not on that screen?”

“This new character creation routine was deemed more awe-inspiring.” The floating light was still bobbing, but more slowly. “You are the first person to have responded to it with elevated stress levels.”

“It was just unexpected,” Amanda said, feeling the need to apologize. “Really, it’s very… ah… sweeping. In scope.” She tried to rotate but the view in every direction was very similar. “Stars… Omen Galaxica… very thematic.”

“It is intended to make you feel godlike. Do you feel powerful?”

“I’m probably not the best audience for this,” Amanda said. “But… no, I don’t feel godlike. I’m a pregnant woman lying on a couch, and while this is very pretty, I know it’s not real. That’s all right, though! It’s still impressive. Why don’t we do whatever it is we’re supposed to do next?”

The voice remained even in pacing and tone, but the bobbing was still slow. “The routine as designed may not prove immersive enough if you do not find the loading screen compelling.”

Nick hadn’t told her that the game required this much handholding. “It’s all right, really. I’m supposed to make a character, aren’t I? Let’s do that.”

“The new character design routine attempts to design the character for you,” the light said.

“Sounds good? I wouldn’t know what I’d want anyway. Nick told me about… all the races and classes and it just fell out of my head.”

The light said, “Welcome,” again, as if restarting its script. “The Kingdom of Omen is in desperate need. You have been called as a hero, to participate in its redemption… or its destruction.” A pause. “You are only mildly interested. Would you like to skip the introduction material? It provides necessary context.”

Amanda suppressed the urge to laugh. “Can I learn the context by playing?”

“Yes, but the introduction material is designed to make your contribution feel unique and significant.”

“That’s all right,” Amanda said. “I’m already unique, and I don’t need to be significant to have fun.”

The light bobbed several more times before it spoke again. “Permission to customize a character based on your thoughts?”

That didn’t sound creepy at all. “You can read my mind? All right, you must be able to read my mind if I’m using thoughts to control the dialogues. But still…”

“The wireset is not psychic,” the light assured her. “It accesses only surface activity. Please think about things that are important to you.” A pause. “This process is usually obscured by the introductory text, which is designed to inspire the user to think about the gameplay experience they would like to have.”

“Oh! I see. All right.” Amanda closed her eyes—in person as well as in the game projection, she thought—and let her mind wander. She did want to enjoy her playtime, but mostly she wanted to have a good time with her son. He’d said he was going to go test the wireset with his existing character in his room… was he all right? Was he enjoying it? And had he been walked through a similar process with the game making him feel he was the center of the universe, empowered to make sweeping changes and live a life of epic scope?

No wonder he and so many other people found it attractive.

“Process complete,” the light whispered, and the stars became a ceiling. She could feel something soft under her feet, smell honeysuckle. When she looked down, though, her body was still diffuse. “Did I fail?” she asked.

The light was still hovering nearby. “Request permission to customize the creation experience to your situation. Which is unexpected.”

“Of course,” Amanda said. “Just don’t make me pregnant in-game, please. It’s enough trouble out of the game.”

“Request noted. Customization in progress.”

Her point of view lowered by half a head—impressive, since as a human she wasn’t very tall—and her sense of smell improved. Breathing felt easier too. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so energetic. High school, maybe? That one year she’d done track. Running sounded like fun again. She wondered what the game had made her… some kind of athlete? Her son was a deer, she thought he’d told her. She touched her head, but her ears felt normal.

And then she looked down.

And squealed.

“Am I a centaur?” she asked.

“Your customized form does not have some of the bonuses of typical centaur players—”

“I’m a centaur!” Amanda said. “I love horses!” She tried to look over her shoulder, thought she saw her back. “Am I cute? I’m so small!” She looked down at her forelegs. “How did you know I’d like this?”

“The new character creation routine evaluates the player’s natural talents and skills and attempts to translate them into a game body that will suit them,” the light said. “Your natural body is so high in constitution the only player race that matched was centaur. However, your strength and dexterity are… unusually low.”

“Are you telling me I’m a pony centaur?” Amanda said, laughing. “Oh, Lord, it’s beautiful. What would you have done if I’d wanted to play something aspirational?”

“That desire would have been noted during the assessment phase, and an appropriate body crafted. You do not appear to dislike who you are, however.”

“No, not at all,” Amanda said. “And it would be easier for me to play something closer to myself. But this… this is special. I like it. Thank you—do you have a name?”

“I am the voice of Omen Galaxica,” the light replied.

“Galaxica, then. Thank you.”