Deckard surveyed his surroundings. He stood beneath a labyrinth of wooden platforms supported by massive logs driven deep into the sand. These pillars extended beyond the beach, their bases disappearing into the waves that gently brushed against the shore. Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the weathered planks above, casting a speckled pattern of light and shadow on the ground.
Beyond the platforms' shade, on the beach, players dressed in simple, tattered clothing like his own were locked in combat, wielding crude wooden swords as they battled peculiar white birds with gray beaks. At first glance, they resembled seagulls, but their behavior was more like ground-bound chickens, scurrying around rather than taking flight. What were those things?
The beach stretched wide, with clusters of tall palm trees dotting the landscape. The further inland his gaze traveled, the denser the foliage became until the trees formed a thick, green wall at the horizon.
A fleeting shadow passed overhead, accompanied by the creaking of wood. There were people up there. Curiosity piqued, and Deckard looked for a way up. He spotted a player climbing a ladder affixed to one of the pillars. Deciding to follow, he approached, his feet crunching softly against the sand, and began his ascent.
As he emerged on top, he saw wooden houses perched atop the pillars, connected by a network of rope bridges and uneven planks. The sea stretched out in the distance, its deep blue contrasting with the sun-bleached wood of the village.
Deckard swallowed hard, a lump forming in his throat. It had been years since he’d last seen the ocean, let alone visited a beach. His life had become so consumed by work that he had forgotten what it felt like to have the sea breeze on his skin. For the first time, he found one point in which AstroTerra surpassed Nova Cardia.
The village was small and mostly quiet. Here and there, the odd player moved purposefully across the platforms, easily navigating the swaying planks. They looked so sure of themselves, so confident. Deckard scanned the area and finally spotted someone who looked just as lost as he felt. He sighed in relief—he wasn't the only noob in the village.
Deckard had played card games all his life, but this was his first experience with an MMORPG. He was a pro and a noob all at once. He hadn’t come into AstroTerra unprepared, though. He knew the basics. From what he'd read online, exploration was vital. He would be spending a lot of time in this village. Taking a deep breath, he began looking around.
He crossed the planks and spotted a village NPC—an older woman with deeply tanned skin and age lines etched into her face. She wore a loose, flowery shirt and a vibrant sarong wrapped around her waist, her feet bare against the wooden planks. A large flower, bright red against her graying hair, was tucked behind her ear. She hummed softly as she deftly worked a fishing net with her hands.
Deckard cleared his throat. It was time to do something he never did in card games: cozy up to NPCs. The theory was simple—make friends with NPCs to unlock quests and gain valuable information. But why did it feel so awkward to get the conversation started? He was a thirty-year-old man with over ten years of professional gaming experience. This wasn’t even a real person, yet he had to force himself to speak up.
“H-Hello, madam,” he stammered.
Litia, the Net Mender
Lvl. 25
????
Some information about the NPC popped up, surprising Deckard. It only revealed very basic information, though. The woman kept humming, not acknowledging him. Deckard tried again, this time using the NPC’s name and speaking more confidently. “Hello, Ms. Litia!”
Still no reaction. Deckard frowned. He’d read that NPCs in AstroTerra were known for being unfriendly, but experiencing it firsthand was another matter. He scratched his chin in thought. Deckard hesitated for a moment, scanning the NPC’s face. Something told him this interaction wasn’t as simple as it seemed. This could be one of those situations he’d read about where an NPC only reacted if he found the right opening line.
“What are you doing?” he asked, trying to sound casual.
The woman finally paused, glancing at him with dark, weathered eyes. “Fix da net, yah. Many holes, big job.”
“Can I help you with anything?” he ventured.
She chuckled softly, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “You no know net, foreigner. You no help. But tank you, tank you.”
“I can learn. You said yourself. It’s a big job,” Deckard tried, but the lady went back to ignoring him.
Deckard just stood there for a few moments. Once he realized he wouldn’t get anything from this old lady, he walked away, feeling a tightness in his chest. It was a disheartening first try. He was a world champion, for crying out loud—but right now, he felt like an awkward novice.
In Nova Cardia, his interaction with others was minimal. He only had to worry about the odd interview or mingling with other players at events. But then, people approached him and took the initiative to start a conversation. Even earlier, Deckard had always been in control in his apartment. Whether welcoming the Nexus rep or directing technicians, the conversations flowed on his terms.
But here, the script was flipped. He was the one seeking approval, the one struggling to keep up. As someone who’d always been more comfortable behind a deck of cards than in a crowd, this was uncomfortable and went against every instinct he had.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Still, he couldn’t forget what Savvy had said, that taunt lingering in his mind. “It’s not just about cards.” “You’re only good at what you’re good at, Deckard.” He knew Savvy had likely meant that this game required more than just deckbuilding skills. It demanded a well-rounded set of abilities—social skills, adaptability, exploration, and more. And Deckard knew that Savvy didn’t think he had what it took.
It wasn’t just about proving Savvy wrong, though that was part of it. It was about proving to himself that he could rise to this new challenge and navigate a world where the rules weren’t as clear-cut as in Nova Cardia. This wasn’t the first time he’d met a setback in his career, nor would it be his last.
He continued his exploration, trying to shake off the disappointment. At the edge of the village, Deckard spotted a man using a long stick to try to knock a coconut from a tree. The man was bald and lean, his skin bronzed by years under the sun. He wore a brightly patterned shirt, unbuttoned to the waist, and a knee-length wrap.
The platform he stood on brought him up to half the tree's height, but the coconut remained just out of reach even with the stick.
Jone, the Coconut Lover
Lvl. 25
????
Deckard decided to try talking to him. “H-hello, sir.”
The man kept waving the stick around, trying to reach the coconut.
Clearing his throat, Deckard tried again. “Hello. How are you?”
The man grunted, not looking at him. “Bah. Leave me ‘lone, foreigner!”
Deckard flinched at the brusque response. It stung more than he cared to admit. Maybe this wasn’t the right NPC to make friends with, either. He would just keep trying until he found someone nice. As Deckard turned to continue exploring, he noticed a boy grinning at him from nearby. The kid couldn’t have been older than ten, with wild hair and a mischievous glint in his eye. He carried a long stick over his shoulder. Unlike with NPCs, he couldn’t see his name.
“That was just sad to watch,” the boy said.
Deckard felt his cheeks flush. He’d never been good with kids, and being shown up by one wasn’t doing his confidence any favors. “What do you mean?”
“Nothin’. That NPC only talks to you if you give him coconuts and you say that you love coconuts, too. Maybe it’s because he’s nuts! Get it? Haha.”
Deckard’s flush deepened, this time from the lameness of the joke. However, the kid did confirm his theory. He did need to find the right words to trigger a quest with this village’s NPC. “Thanks for the hint.”
“Oh well, step aside and see how a pro does it. Hey! Coconut uncle! I got you a longer stick. Try it now!”
The NPC’s demeanor transformed instantly. “Oh, my boy! Thank you. Aren’t you kind?”
A bright blue light enveloped the boy. “Nice! A level up!”
Deckard watched, feeling a bitter pang of frustration. The kid had solved the puzzle effortlessly, and it was hard not to feel like he was falling short.
“Don’t cry now, grandpa.”
“Grandpa? Are you talking to me, kid?”
“Yeah. Who else? You look like you’re about to cry.”
Deckard remained silent despite the pulsing vein in his forehead.
“You’re a noob, right?”
“Sort of,” Deckard replied, a bit defensively.
“You know there are guides dat explain how to warm up to these NPCs, yah? Want me to share the link for one?”
“No, thanks.”
“Why not?”
Deckard’s tone sharpened with impatience. “Because I want to figure things out on my own.”
“Sheesh. Your funeral. Bye, grumpy grandpa,” the boy teased, shaking his head.
The boy walked away, leaving Deckard behind. So far, the game wasn’t going well at all. The obnoxious kid didn’t help.
Savvy’s words echoed in his mind, gnawing at his confidence. Was it true? Was he only good at what he knew? The doubt was unsettling, but it also sparked a fire within him. He had to prove—not just to Savvy but to himself—that he could conquer this new challenge. If a beginner village tripped him up, how could he expect to do well in the game?
He wasn’t in a rush. Patience had always been his ally. He would observe, learn, and adapt. Deckard wasn’t ready to admit defeat just because a few NPCs brushed him off. If anything, it only fueled his resolve to figure things out on his own terms. Shaking his head, he continued his exploration.
Deckard’s wandering took him to a particularly large house with a sign that dangled in the sea breeze. The faintest lines survived the onslaught of the hot, tropical sun, and it looked like a shell. In the short time he’d seen it, two players had left it, and three had gone in.
Deckard entered, finding a shop with wares displayed on makeshift shelves and a counter lined with tinted glass bottles containing liquids of different colors, leaves, and seashells. He’d found a store, he realized. Finally, some direction.
He approached the counter, where a middle-aged man stood, dressed in a floral shirt and a matching wrap around his waist. His smile was broad, revealing a row of slightly crooked teeth.
Laisenia, the Shopkeeper
Lvl. 30
????
“Good mornin’, sir! Welcome to our place. How can Silver Shell help?”
Deckard sighed in relief—talking to an NPC who was a little polite and willing to talk to him was such a breath of fresh air. It was just good customer service, but still… it was something.
“Do you sell cards?” he asked.
“Cards? Oh no, no, no,” the shopkeeper replied, shaking his head. “Cards not here. Maybe in big city, yah?”
Deckard’s hope deflated slightly. “Right…”
“I suggest you grow strong first. No survive da trip through the caves now, no way. But you know what help you get strong?”
Deckard’s heart skipped a beat, feeling a quest coming up. “W-what?”
The NPC leaned in, lowering his voice as if revealing a great secret. “Try my wares. Good stuff! Potions that heal you when you hurt. Or fish! Fill you with energy, make you strong.”
A window appeared, listing several items. Fish, shellfish, herbs, and other such items were for sale. Deckard’s shoulders sank. So much for a quest. It was just a sales pitch! He excused himself and left the shop, taking note of this location. He might have to return here soon. From here, he spotted another similarly-sized building nearby. Unlike the Silver Shell, it had a window through which he could see weapons.
He approached it, almost bumping into the same kid that he’d talked to earlier. “Grumpy grandpa,” the boy said with a nod.
Deckard just ignored the boy, happy to be the ignorer instead of the ignored for once, and stepped in. Boxes filled with helmets, boots, and gloves were lined against the wall. All of them looked like trash bins, given the condition of the items. There were also a few barrels with rusty weapons sticking out, and an NPC sitting behind a desk.
It was the first time Deckard saw an NPC that wasn’t dressed like an islander. Instead of a flowery shirt and a wrap, the man wore a long jacket, an odd choice given the tropical climate. This NPC stood out like a sore thumb. He was scribbling furiously on a notepad.
Ronan, the Shopkeeper
Lvl. 15
????
Deckard took a deep breath and stepped forward. Maybe this time, he’d succeed.
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