Alex sat at a picnic table and stared over the low stone wall into the dark, lily-pad strewn waters of Lake Tamblyn. It was 1 pm. He had class at 1:30. Advanced Machine Learning. Practical applications of advanced AI uses. It was one of his favourite classes this semester despite taking it a year early.

  But he wasn’t excited right now.

  Sighing, he stood and brushed off his jeans, threw his backpack over his shoulder and headed towards the Agora’s back doors.

  The Agora was crowded today. Students milled through with post-lunch coffees and laptops and friends; the hum of conversations echoed off the lower concrete ceiling near the doors. Most of the office windows were clear of drapes and university staff buzzed around busily, oblivious to the students on the other side of the thin wall.

  Everything looked… normal. Except that today he could see a new table dominating the back wall as he came around the corner – complete with flag banners and posters on the wall and a suit of armour on a stand beside the table. And a huge crowd of people.

  The Agora didn’t usually feel this alive. Most days it was just the echo of clacking keyboards, the smell of coffee, the constant shuffle of backpacks and snippets of conversation as students flowed past.

  Today it pulsed with heat and chatter. Someone had dragged in a giant flatscreen that looped highlight reels of Dungeon Inc. battles. On the screen heroes ducked under claws, knights strutted in epically shiny mail, rangers made impossibly long bowshots and the logo spun like some magical sigil in the corner.

  A velvet rope penned off the table, though the crowd leaned in close enough to blur the boundary. The suit of armor gleamed too brightly under the overhead fluorescents, each plate strapped onto a mannequin stand with leather cords that looked new. A TV show prop, not a history department borrow.

  Alex’s eyes slid over everything at once: the red banners swaying every time any of the front doors opened, the stack of glossy brochures fanned perfectly in rows of ten, the way students laughed too loudly as they shoved forward to get closer. He noticed it all and it was as impressive as it was overwhelming.

  Alex hesitated at the top of the steps. His palms were damp. His stomach buzzed in a way that felt uncomfortably like stage fright.

  This is insane. Why am I even here?

  And he didn’t like crowds. There were way too many people jostling him, breathing on him. Looking at him.

  Still, his feet carried him down the stairs with only the barest pause.

  He was staring at the banners of crimson and silver, and there – the Dungeon Inc. logo flashing on a digital display. A tall folding sign read ADVENTURERS WANTED.

  The recruiting officer was a tall woman with a broad smile that showed all her teeth. She wore a fitted blazer with the company’s logo pinned to her lapel and a bronze enameled pin in the shape of a sword pinned on her shirt collar. Alex watched her work the crowd as he approached.

  “Slots are filled up for the current cohort, but please, we are constantly looking for new talent. Submit an application today and you never know, you may be the next popular adventurer!” She worked the crowd like a seasoned pro, listening to people talk about their favourite heroes and gently guiding them to the online application when they begged for interviews.

  He stood on the edge of the crowd and listened to the banter as people in the crowd asked questions about the jobs, about the company, about their favourite actors. The recruiter took it all in stride and never lost the huge smile that seemed to include everyone.

  Before long she caught sight of Alex, despite his lurking, and if possible, beamed even larger.

  “Alex? Alex Mercer?” Everybody in the crowd turned to look at him. He felt his face flush and took a step backwards. The heat of a hundred eyes landed on him at once. His brain went blank. He didn’t answer, couldn’t. His throat was tight. He wanted to melt back into the wall and escape.

  But then the recruiter was there beside him, one firm hand on his elbow. She smiled like they were old friends, like this was planned. “Alex Mercer, everyone,” she announced, almost like she was showing him off. Maybe she was?

  The crowd clapped and smiled. Not mockingly… actual applause. He had been chosen and they thought they may just be seeing one of the show's next stars. Alex's skin crawled.

  “I’ll be right back to answer all your questions!” The recruiter called back over her shoulder even as she propelled Alex forward and into the ground-floor auditorium.

  “Uh, did you need to see my ID?” He asked.

  “Oh no, I recognized you right away.” She said as she smiled up at him.

  They stepped into the auditorium and the doors closed with a soft click, blocking out most of the sound behind. The space at the top of the room was dim, less than half the lightbulbs being used. They moved towards the stairs and the echo of their footsteps was swallowed by the high ceilings and soundboards on the walls.

  At the bottom of the stairs the stage was lit by spotlights, a cluster of tables were arranged there with clipboards, laptops, and a scattering of odd-looking equipment.

  Two interviewers, one man and one woman, looked up as they descended. They practically bounced out of their chairs.

  “Alex!” the woman said, standing. “We’ve been waiting for you. This is Todd Granger and I’m Shelly Morstein.”

  The man, Todd, grinned and said enthusiastically, “We’ve seen your stream.”

  Heat crawled up the back of his neck. His mind flung through every embarrassing moment they could have seen over the past few sessions, like the time Alex had forgotten an NPC’s name and blurted Boblin the Goblin?

  Or worse: the first arc finale, where his voice had cracked so badly during the king’s speech the chat clipped it into a meme.

  Alex blinked. “You… what?” Damn, smooth. He was going to have to do better.

  “Your D&D campaign,” Shelly said. “You’ve got good numbers for a student channel. We love how you worldbuild. That last big puzzle you wrote? The one to get out of the necromancer's basement?”

  “Dungeon” Todd cut in.

  Shelly glanced over at him and then back at Alex. “Right, the necromancers dungeon. Genius though. Love the use of 3d printed props! Kudos!”

  She leaned forward and stared at Alex intently. “You’ve built something with reach. That’s one of the things we’re looking for, Alex. Talent that knows how to weave a story.”

  “A great story,” Todd said.

  “Yes, a great story,” Shelly agreed, looking over at Todd again.

  Story. Talent. The words didn’t hit Alex like they were intended. Compliments always felt like traps to him, like someone dangling bait. But the way they said it – So certain. So earnest – it was hard to not let it get to him. For a moment, he let himself imagine it: that his little game really was good enough for someone else to notice.

  “And we watched the second half of last night's session. Your friend Ryan seems to be able to call down a 20 whenever he needs it huh?” The man chuckled as he leaned back in his chair.

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  “He’s… very lucky. His rolling has been the bane of my campaigns for a decade,” Alex admitted. He looked over at the recruiter, but she was gone. Turning he saw her disappearing through the doors they had entered from at the top of the stairs.

  He turned back to the interviewers and stepped out onto the stage area, looking around. He had never had a class here but had attended a talk once in his first year. As a computer science student he rarely had classes big enough for this sort of room. Only his first year sociology class had been in an auditorium, and since the professor read straight from the textbook he had skipped most of the classes.

  He sat stiffly when they gestured to the chair across from them. His brain scrambled to recall his goals for being here. To focus. He hadn’t really had a job interview in a couple of years and tried to think hard to recall his resume. God he was going to have to talk about himself.

  “Uh, I’ve worked summers at…”

  Todd waved a hand. “No need, no need. We’re not really all that interested in work experience. We want to know about you.”

  “Me?” He looked bleakly from man to woman and then back again. If you wanted to know obscure facts about Renaissance Italy, Alex was your guy. If you wanted to know how fast the Earth travels around the sun, or fun and obscure facts about sharks, no problem. But he absolutely hated talking about himself.

  “Yes! You're a GM obviously, tell us about that!”

  “A DM, really. I’ve played around with other systems, but DnD is my favourite.”

  “Right, right. And how did you get into that? No one else wanted to lead the campaign?” Todd leaned forward from his new perch on the edge of the nearest table as he asked his questions.

  “Um, maybe? I don’t remember. But it was fine – I love DMing. Creating worlds and campaigns. Designing mobs and puzzles.” Alex was still uncomfortable, but the topic was an easy one.

  “Mobs?” Shelly asked.

  “Oh, um, unique and interesting monsters for the party to fight.”

  “Right. And you’re great at that! We watched your feed last night. Not all of it of course, but a lot of it, and we think you are exactly what we are looking for!”

  They must want writers after all. That was something he could do. Probably. Would he still be able to maintain his own campaign channel if he started writing for Dungeon Inc. though?

  Shelly slid something across the table: a steel grip bar with pressure sensors. “Let’s test your strength.”

  Alex stared at it. “Huh?” Ak. Still smooth man.

  “Just squeeze it. It’s easy!”

  He picked up the cool steel bar and squeezed. The LEDs along the top blinked yellow, then green, then red. Shelly laughed. “Not bad at all, you’re pretty strong for a skinny guy huh?”

  “Um, I guess. My dad calls me wirey.” Shelly and Todd both laughed.

  Before he could set the bar down, Todd was holding up a laminated card with a pattern of 3 dimensional shapes. And a number of different, similar shapes along the bottom of the card, separated by commas.

  “Now… what’s the missing symbol in this spot here?” he said while tapping the obvious gray shaded box with the missing value.

  Alex frowned at the sudden change, but at least 25% of his brain was always in problem-solving mode – or ‘survival mode’ Ryan always joked. “Uh… this one,” he said, pointing to the answer. “The rotation matches the set.”

  “Excellent!”

  The logic puzzle was just the beginning. Next came a balance test: heel-to-toe across a narrow strip of tape that had been stuck to the stage, while the man counted down from thirty. Alex crossed without problem. He had excellent dexterity as long as he didn’t have to use feet and hands at the same time.

  Then came reflex drills. They slid him a tablet with flashing colored squares. “Tap the odd one out, as fast as you can.”

  He tapped furiously, jaw clenched, noting the patterns before they even finished shifting. Red always followed blue. Green never appeared twice in a row. By the fifth screen he was already predicting outcomes.

  “Excellent,” Todd said, eyes alight.

  “Thanks. Lots of video games I guess. I have pretty decent hand-eye coordination,” Alex said a little shyly. He really wasn’t sure how to respond to all the praise.

  After the reflex test came another puzzle. Riddles were slipped casually into conversation, like traps hidden under leaves. If you had to leave one behind, your sword, your shield, or your coin purse, which would it be?

  He answered instinctively: “Shield. You can’t defend if you’re broke or unarmed.” They laughed like he’d solved a clever joke, but he couldn’t see that there was any right answer.

  Each test bled into the next until he wasn’t sure where the interview ended and the game began. Every time he tried to redirect – What exactly would the job involve? Would I be writing modules, or consulting? – they brushed it aside with another puzzle, another cheerful: let’s see how you handle this.

  He wanted to be annoyed. Instead, a tiny spark of excitement curled in his stomach. Puzzles he liked. He could do puzzles all day long.

  Minutes blurred. His chest felt tight, nerves buzzing like static. Finally, feeling a little overwhelmed, he pushed back from the table. “I… I think I should go. I have class at 1:30.” He looked down at his watch meaningfully.

  Both interviewers exchanged a glance. Then, smiling like they shared a secret, Shelly leaned forward and said, “Alright then Alex. Would you like the job?”

  He blinked, they hadn’t said a word about the company or job yet. Shouldn’t he be asking some questions? His high school guidance counselor would have recommended that he ask a few good questions of the interviewer, but they had deflected everything he tried so far.

  “Job? As a writer?”

  Oh, Good Alex! You Totally Nailed It.

  Shelly tilted her head, eyes bright. “A writer?” Both of the interviewers laughed. Not meanly, but a genuine chuckle that made no sense in the circumstance to Alex. “Only in so far as you get to write your own destiny, Alex. But no, the job is to be an adventurer exploring a new world.”

  He sat back down heavily in the plastic bucket seat. The words landed like a stone in his stomach. He stared, mouth dry, lips parted. “Adventurer? You mean: BE on the show?”

  “Not just the show,” Todd said. “The world. We want you to be Dungeon Inc.’s first magic user.”

  Alex’s mouth fell open. No words came out. Just silence.

  He managed, finally, a weak laugh. Even to his own ears it didn’t sound right. “But… I’m not an actor.”

  The interviewers laughed again with genuine delight, like he’d told the funniest joke of the day.

  “Oh, I do love this part.” said Todd.

  “That’s fine,” said Shelly at the same time. “All you need is the desire to discover a new world and to develop new skills and we’ll teach you the rest.”

  Desire. Magic user. Adventurer. The words spun in his head until they made him dizzy. He should have said no. He was going to be immensely uncomfortable trying to act in front of other people. He should have stood up and walked out.

  “Um…” Did he have any real objections though? He grasped for something to say to buy him a little time. “Will I have to move? I have school.”

  “No, not at all! You will go to school on your regular schedule and on your off days we’ll pick you up and drive you to the location right here in Northern Ontario. You let us know when you need to be back and our drivers will get you back! What is your schedule like?”

  “Oh, um… I’m done classes on Friday at 11:30 and I don’t have any on Mondays,” Alex said.

  “Well then, if you want, you can stay on until Monday night or Tuesday morning and get back in time for class. We have drivers on staff and we’re flexible – it’s a reality show after all!” Todd and Shelly laughed like they had just shared another joke.

  “Pay is more than generous but it is partially dependent on ratings and your adventuring screen time. You’ll receive a set pay during training and after that it will be up to you somewhat. Details will be available in your contract. Just tell us you are in, and we’ll get the ball rolling.”

  Pay is more than generous? But based on his ratings? Which probably meant shit pay, since he would likely hide from the cameras… Maybe his Side Quest Heroes fans would follow him over to Dungeon Inc. They probably already watched it anyway.

  He’d have to shift around some of his project work and figure out when he could write for his own campaign, which should be fine. After all, there had to be a lot of downtime when filming a TV show. He could fit in 2 or 3 days a week for work. He could use the extra money.

  Acting though? He’d never really considered it before. But then, the chance to work on Dungeon Inc. was just too good to pass up. He could always quit if he didn’t like it! And it would open doors in the future.

  “Okay, I’m in.”

  Alex Mercer is not to be evaluated through conventional questioning. His application and body of work already demonstrate sufficient competence in narrative design, systems thinking, and live performance under observation. Additional verbal confirmation of skills is unnecessary.

  The objective of this session is stress calibration. Present unfamiliar problems without framing, shift parameters mid-task, and observe adaptation rather than outcome. Do not clarify success conditions unless prompted and do not reassure.

  Pay particular attention to how Mercer responds when deprived of structure: prolonged silence, incomplete information, physical discomfort, or the implication of failure without confirmation.

  Note: Mercer demonstrates a tendency toward internal pattern-seeking when external order is absent. This is a desirable trait if it persists under pressure.

  Proceed accordingly. The decision has already been made.

  What we want to know is how much strain he can carry while still performing.

  Internal Directive To Recruitment & Evaluation

  From: Valentina R.

  Hey everyone!

  Thanks for taking the time to check out my crazy little mashup of a story. I'll be dropping chapters all day until I hit 20k words, after that It'll be 1 chapter per day.

  I am a new writer here on RR, so your reviews and ratings and especially follows mean a ton - please consider taking a moment to help if you like my story!

  In fact, I think I'm legally obliged to tell you to SMASH that follow button at the very least and don't forget to comment and let me know what you think!

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  Dungeon Inc. // RECRUIT DIV.

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  ? ━━━? THE STORY CONTINUES… ?━━━ ?