Who I am in real life doesn't matter; who I am in the game is what counts.

Before it happened, I bumbled my way through the virtual reality massively multiplayer online role-playing game "The Greenwood," made crap builds and wasted my time.

Then I got murdered. A shadowy figure took my hard-accumulated possessions and left me to die. I admit, I did a rage quit and deleted my character.

Then I wondered what kind of person that rage quit made me? Maybe I was a quitter? And maybe I really was someone who would let a bully get away with disrespecting me?

But then again, no: I respected myself too much for that. I rolled a new character, I vowed to get good and re-entered The Greenwood.

I took on the name Barcud and the profession of ranger. I vowed to rise through the levels, hone my skills, hunt down the shadowy figure, and grind his face in the dirt.

This is my story.

***After lots of helpful comments on RR, I am going to publish my story on Amazon Kindle, so that means I have to take it down from here apart from, I think 10%.

***Sorry to deprive you of the story. I am going to write my next one on here too though.

***If you'd like to join my LitRPG mailing list - it's here

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