Help Im An Npc

Help! I'm an NPC!

The Only Non-Gamer in a World that Just Became an MMO

*****

"Thank you for your purchase, I hope it works out for you and if it doesn't, we have a 14 day exchange policy so do let us know!" I wave cheerfully at the customer, smiling brightly as they exit.

Of course the second they're out the door, my smile drops and I sit on my stool behind the register in boredom. Don't get me wrong, it's a great job for retail, but only so many potential clients a day walk in the door to Missy Em's Perfect Fit looking for a new bra or lingerie set.

I tidy up the nearly immaculate countertop, clean and return the pen to its holder, put the measuring tape back around my neck in case the next client needs a fitting, and idly watch the window shoppers walk right past. I get it, bras are expensive, especially ones that fit just right and can last 5 years.

Until I dropped out of fashion design school, which was too costly for the crappy experiences and harassment I suffered, I had hoped to become a fashionista and design my own clothing line. Instead, my sewing machine and mannequin sit in the corner of my bedroom gathering dust. Just like me. But working as a retail "assistant" for Miss Emma meant she might eventually take me on as an apprentice, so I keep at it. As she says, the right undergarments are the entire foundation of fashion. And after seeing the change in my profile the first day I tried on her Spring line, I had to agree.

Unfortunately, I'm stuck running fittings and the register until the day I get promoted. Boring, tedious work. Hours on my feet when it's busy, and hours on my ass when it isn't.

When it gets too quiet, I pull out my mobile and scroll through my library app. Most folks go for the gaming apps when they get bored, but I get tired of those fast. And why play a story when I can read one that's already finished in half the time. Go ahead and call me odd, I'm used to it. Even my friends in high school mocked me for not being able to finish 100 levels of whatever casual game craze was going around at the time.

I'm two chapters into some steamy romance that's only halfway work appropriate--it describes the MC's bra in exquisite detail--when Miss Emma comes out of the back with a box of new arrivals.

"Kath, can you sort and tag these? We need them to launch on Monday. And tomorrow we'll take line 3e down to 25% off."

I nod, turning my phone off and slipping it back into my pocket so I can get back to working. Tagging wasn't a bad task since it was mostly hand-work and not brain-work.

"Is that a game?" Miss Emma, a petite woman in her mid-40s with wavy black tresses pulled back into a ponytail huffs at me. "How many times do I have to tell you kids not to play games during working hours! And no videos either, read a blog or something!"

I pull out my phone, unlock it, and hand it over. "I wasn't. My last used app is a reading program."

She quirks a brow in disbelief, and obliges by scrolling through my app list without probing too far. "Well this is odd, not even Duck Row? You got a good gaming setup at home maybe?"

Duck Row was just a copy of another "fling stuff at target" game, so I'd only made it like three levels before deleting the app my friends had forced me to download to placate them.

"Yeah, that's it. I just can't do the short stints. And work is important so I'd rather not."

She still looks at me with suspicion of being a weirdo, but she smiles, "Well it's good that you're using your slow time to read something. Too much time playing video games can rot the mind!" I doubt she even believes that sentiment since I've seen her scrolling through a forum after complaining about the level 30 boss from some game that seems popular.

She heads back to her workspace upstairs to do whatever she does when no one's watching, probably designing. As for me, I open the box and get to sorting and tagging.

It's a slow day. Sometimes we don't even get any walk-ins, so we're lucky to even have 5 before next week's sale and launch.

So color me surprised when I glance up, and a flash of something green runs by. Kid height. Probably a kid. Except then I see another one.

It's a little monster of some sort, pointy twisty ears, little metal cap, weird little knife it pretends is a sword as it slashes at someone. I pull out my phone in haste, dropping it before I can clumsily call the police. Instead I watch as another person, clad in what looks like a golden suit of armor cleaves the creature in half with a broadsword.

"Okay..." The creature sprays blood into the air and disintegrates into a cloud of purple ashes that reveal a bundle of things that are clearly not a body. The--I hesitate to call them a hero--person collects the things and walks off as if nothing just happened. "The heck?"

Strangest thing I've seen all week, maybe ever, but at least there's no more dorky little monsters running by outside the window, so I go back to tagging.

The next layer down is not what I was expecting. Fall lines are usually padded, supportive, and occasionally festive or rich colors. Miss Emma apparently decided to go for metallics. I hold up a bra made from thick "fabric" made of intricately woven and lace appliqued metal, possibly silver. It might be malleable enough to fit the necessary shapes, but it certainly wasn't practical. And I'm not so sure about the use of animal hide as backing material. Or the chain-like straps that would surely dig in uncomfortably.

Thankfully I can hear the boss coming down the stairs. "Miss Emma? What's the price for this one?" It had to be more than 75.

"Oh, that dear?" My boss's voice is the same as ever, but she...

I realize I'm staring, because the hulking behemoth is not Miss Emma. This woman towers over me, and she is just absolutely built. Like a bodybuilder. But her face is kind and it looks like Miss Emma's. Her long black hair is down, flowing past her thighs in the back, and the tresses that frame her face and fall on her exposed shoulders has been dyed reds and oranges to be like flames. And she's wearing only the metallic bra and a matching bottom with boots covered in metal bits. In short, she looks like a barbarian woman from some shitty fantasy romance that says "me looky for husband."

"That's 150 gold, and don't you take a copper less!"

"Okay..."

"My dear, you're so scrawny. Where's your weapon? Did you leave it in the back?" Miss Emma looks at me with a bit of worry as she brandishes a metal rod with large, curved blade bits on one end.

"Um, I don't really have one? Do I need one?" Today can't get any weirder.

"Oh, I see, you would be more of the mage type. Well, if a customer threatens you for a discount, just remember that I don't allow fire spells inside the shop!"

"Okie dokie. Are you heading out?" I should still have a spare set of keys for closing in my bag.

"Yup, I need to see a friend about a set of armor. This one looks good, but I could really use some more protection, don't you think?"

"Yeah, that's a bikini. Not much help if you're stabbed at." What the hell is going on?

"There, you get it. You're a good girl, Katherina." The absurdly big woman slams the door shut after herself, and for a moment I think she's shattered the glass, but it just rattles ominously.

"It's short for Katherine actually... what the hell..."

I need a sanity check.

The clock on the wall reads 4:36, second hand goes one, two, three. Okay, time seems right. I glance at my hands. I had painted my nails a light tropical blue on Tuesday, but I already chipped the corner of my left index finger. Yup. Color is right, and there's the chip. What else can I check? Was it five things or just three? Shoes! Still wearing my simple black non-skid pumps. No weird clothing changes for me. I get up and check line 3e, and it's as normal as ever. Still lilac, and still almost see through. That makes four things. The news?

But I'm almost afraid to pick my phone up from where I had dropped it and not just because it might be broken. I bend down and get it, because maybe someone, somewhere can explain just what is going on.

I have three messages from my best friend, hidden by the silence notifications setting. Okay, this is it. What. The. Hell.

"This is so cool" Attached in the next message is a selfie of a blue-haired creature that sorta looks like my friend. No, the more I look, the more I realize that it's like a costume. The person still has all their features, but the now-dyed hair, and aspects of their body, things affected by fitness level maybe, seem different. As does the ball of energy in their palm, but let's not dwell on that right now.

"Look! I'm just like my favorite character! I think something happened in town, so I'm going on a quest to check it out. I'll let you know what I find."

That was only a few minutes ago, so presumably it might take a while. I switch to the news feed and scroll. Same old news, political scandal, dogs that will melt your heart, video game reviews and speculation, new book by that author who everyone knows uses ghostwriters, reward for the capture or head of a manticore wreaking havoc in the Bell West neighborhood...

I drop my poor phone again. It was like the news just got weirder as I went. The typical articles were suddenly interspersed with what looked almost like quest notices and wanted posters. But there wasn't anything to explain what the hell happened around 4:30.

At 6 pm, I hide the new merch in the little storage closet in the back of the store and lock up. The shopping center is quieting down, but the few people I do see still look, well, different. One of the froyo girls is wearing a flowy purple gown under her work apron, and she's holding a witchy hat in her hand as she walks off to her car. The janitor is still in his uniform, but there's a tiara on his head and his graying hair is long and braided, looking almost like an elegant mop.

"Hey wench!" A voice grumbles from below the metal outdoor tables lining the promenade. I look down and find a grotesque, bearded little creature glaring up at me and stifle the urge to shriek. "Where's the shoe store?"

"Um, over there, about the fourth or fifth shop down? Heel a'Peril?" I stare at the updated signage that I point to on instinct.

"Many thanks!"

"They might be closed already!" My warning falls on pointy, deaf ears. "Okay then."

The first thing I notice on the way home is the lack of cars on the road. Yeah, nope. No cars, but I do end up having to watch out for folks riding horseback and the occasional carriage. So maybe whatever happened might be good for the environment, but terrible for mass transit and anyone who doesn't have space in their freaking apartment for a stable!

I can only shake my head and continue on foot, walking by all the fantastically-clad people that are ignoring me. Note to self, bring backup shoes if the buses aren't running anymore. The heels are already killing me even though they were designed for comfort. I finally make it to the park near my apartment before spotting another set of monsters.

There's already a battle going on between the horde of waist-high goblin-goobers and some people dressed up as adventurers. It's over quickly, and I don't even have time to be afraid, not even when one of the little monsters breaks away from the fight to run right at me. I just step to the side and it keeps going out into the middle of the street until an arrow nails it in the back.

"Wow, can't believe it almost got that NPC, nice shot!"

"You earned it, you go get the drops!"

"Fine."

Voices call out from behind me, but my eyes are on the wad of fabric and the small pile of brown coins on top of it laying in the middle of the road.

"Excuse me." A deep voice apologizes as someone in filigree steel armor walks past me to pick up the fallen items. "Wait, what are you supposed to be anyways?"

I look around before being certain that he's addressing me. "Me? I'm a retail worker, I guess?"

"Retail? Like, oh you're a shop girl! So you are an NPC!"

I know enough about games to understand the term and be rightfully offended by it. "No, I'm not a character, playable or otherwise! I'm just still me. Doing the same job I've been doing for almost two years."

The man looks almost familiar when I look him in the face. "Wait, you're one of the girls from 305? Boren Arms?"

A name comes to mind, "And you're Williams from 312 who advertises land parties on the bulletin board?"

"LAN parties." Williams clarifies. "And it's Sir Marcus Williams now. My character is a knight!" As if that matters in the conversation. "Who's your main, anyways? I thought everyone had turned into theirs hours ago."

"I don't really have one?" I shrug, though that feels like a big clue right there.

"So what's your status? How many health points, or life points, or whatever do you have? What's your level?"

"My what?"

Another voice calls from over my shoulder, "Oh no, she really is an NPC!" This woman is lithe and toned, like a dancer, with iridescent pale hair and the palest blue eyes I've ever seen contrasting against her dark face. And she's wearing another cursed metal bikini top that isn't even doing her any favors.

"No, I just work at Missy Em's in Bell Center. You know, the one that sells high-end undergarments?" I am loath to call it a lingerie shop, or heavens forbid a "ladies" store. "We do fittings too, and we're putting out very new inventory on Monday." The other woman nods her possible interest.

"Cool."

"Well, since you're clearly not an adventurer, we'll be sure to keep our local NPCs like you safe. See you around Miss 305!" "Sir" Williams hastily salutes before ordering his squad to follow him deeper into the forebodingly dark park.

"Well that was still weird." I mumble to myself before I finally get to my apartment building and trudge up the two flights of stairs to my floor.

I doubt that my roommate is back yet, but there's light coming from under the crack of her door on the left side of the dark living space. I flip on the kitchen light so I can make something to eat later, and go to my room on the right. Tossing my small purse on my bed, I sit down at my desk/workspace before fighting to get the heels off my swollen feet. So going to have blisters, and if this doesn't count for damage to my health meter, or whatever that guy was talking about, I don't know what else would.

After a few minutes of rubbing them, I grab my laptop from my desk and spread myself out on the floor with my feet raised up against my bed. A few minutes of browsing leads to such headlines as, "World Changes, for the Better?", "Moove Over, Cars. It's Time for Horse Play!", and "Which MMO Is Better? Let's Judge the Characters Come to Life." And the journalists agree, the girl from apartment 305 is weird.

Literally everyone who plays an MMO has transformed into their favorite character creation, of which I don't have one. I may have played around with a character creator once when my friends bullied me into playing their favorite, but that experience was short lived when the game mercifully crashed my overwhelmed laptop. Marigold was literally the only person to stay friends with me after high school. Marigold didn't judge. And Marigold was now their favorite blue-haired character and out on a quest to throw energy blasts at monsters and figure out why the world had changed or something.

I wonder if Marigold was still human or if they're slowly becoming whatever made-up race their mage was. I type out a quick message to ask for any updates and mention that the lonely "land party" guy down the hall and his adventure buddies called me an NPC. And with that sour note ringing through my head, I get up to make some dinner.

A few days pass, and the whole fantasy world thing is starting to wear thin. Nothing feels normal anymore, not even running the shop while Miss Emma goes out to collect materials before hiding up in her workspace to make custom adventuring couture. My till is now full of gold, silver, and copper coins. The card-reader still works, but even on that, and in my meager bank account, the currency has changed.

I tripped over a random bucket outside on my lunch break yesterday and found a gold coin and a glowing red gemstone.

Miss Emma just called me lucky for it, all the while expecting me to just roll with her increasingly eclectic outfits and magically changing tags on our merchandise that now label things with a modifier for something. Charm? Charisma? Dex? I have no idea what any of it means, but the customers love it.

And don't get me started on the sudden influx of customers. Some of them really don't look human either. It's no longer just the muscles, the height, and the hair color. It's their eyes and ears and I swear one client looking for a flattering extra-padded bra had claws and not just long nails.

I can't be sure, but I think that adventurer from the park stopped by earlier for a fitting while I was checking some other new shoppers out. Lots of new faces needing quality support garments. Or they finally had the money now that monsters dropped all sorts of coins if you hit them hard enough.

I've become a stranger in my own world.

The day before yesterday, Marigold checked in with a paragraph that sounded like it was copy and pasted from a traveler's log about where they went and the quest they had accepted. Then yesterday, and I blame this for the tripping incident, they texted again with, "Dude, I think I died last night. It's okay, I lost some gold and a level and the loot in my bag, but I woke up in bed this morning with my arm back on!"

I did text back. At least the rules of their favorite MMO somehow applied, so I wouldn't have to worry too much about them getting their ass handed to them. But it sounds like maybe other players haven't been so lucky. The internet exploded over the weekend with questions on how to change one's character or if the "system" was rigged. Several deaths had been reported regarding the Manticore running loose in our city. Permanent deaths. It seems the rules differ depending on your character's origins, though that doesn't really matter to me when I don't have one.

I'm just the shop girl, and while all the other people who work at the shopping center come in for their shifts, they're heroes and spellcasters and something else entirely as soon as that shift ends. I'm just Kath. And I've never stood out more.

For the first time ever, Missy Em's closes early. By midday, I'm exhausted from running back and forth between fittings and the register. Miss Emma had to come down to keep order and stop someone in a revealing black leather outfit that was 90% straps and belts from trying to steal bras by the handful as they yelled out "You're not supposed to see me! I'm using concealment skills!"

Well guess what ma'am? Just because everyone else was ignoring you and I had to physically grab your arm and point you out to my extra fashionable, extra badass barbarian boss so she could kick you out doesn't mean you were invisible!

Though now the boss lady is convinced I'm some sort of lowkey magic user that has spells to augment my perception and get people to spend more money. No, that's just classic fantasy world bargaining and modern upselling tactics.

And it's because of those plus 3s and plus 5s on their items that the store sold out of its current supply of new metal bras and a good deal of older inventory. That left Miss Emma with a new quest, and me with some luxury time to relax and enjoy a cup of mango froyo before I brave the shoe store myself. These goddamned heels.

Speaking of, I pause in licking my compostable spoon to turn towards the thumping sound of something big coming down the promenade. Yay, more monsters.

This one really is big. It could probably look into the windows on the second floor, and it spans almost half the width of the empty park-like space I'm sitting in. Which means I get a really good view of it squeezing its lion-like body between the row of shops and the smaller froyo kiosk. Sharp talons dig into the concrete walkway while a scorpion's stinger rises up overhead. The manticore's face, much like classical art depictions, is nearly human except it is: one, giant; and two, filled with too many rows of sharp teeth.