I Woke Up Naked and Got Killed by a Chicken

Respawning naked wasn't part of the plan.
Actually, there was no plan. Plans required effort, foresight, and the kind of responsible decision-making I'd successfully avoided for twenty-three years. What I *had* was a brand-new VRMMO headset (purchased with my last paycheck before getting fired from the convenience store), a bag of off-brand chips, and the unshakeable confidence of someone who'd beaten every obscure survival game on the internet.
All I did was plug in the headset, boot up the closed beta of *Eryndale Online*, click through seventeen pages of terms and conditions without reading a single word, and—boom. Instant black screen. Bright flash. The sensation of being flushed down a digital toilet.
Then: face-down in dirt.
I could taste pixels. Did pixels have a taste? Apparently yes. They tasted like regret and uncooked ramen.
"Welcome, brave adventurer," a voice echoed cheerfully from somewhere above me, like a GPS that had achieved sentience and decided to mock my life choices. "You have entered the sacred land of Eryndale. Prepare to fulfill your destiny!"
I groaned into the grass, which seemed unnaturally high-definition for a beta test. Each blade tickled my exposed skin with uncomfortable realism.
Wait.
*Exposed skin?*
I lifted my head slowly, praying to every digital deity I'd ever encountered in gaming. But the gods of good fortune were apparently AFK.
I was naked. Completely, utterly, catastrophically naked.
"Can I fulfill this destiny with pants on, please?" I wheezed, my voice cracking with the kind of panic usually reserved for realizing you'd left your phone at home or accidentally liked your crush's Instagram post from three years ago.
A bright floating box materialized in front of my face, its cheerful blue border completely at odds with my current nightmare:
> **PATCH NOTES 1.0.0b**>> * Hero spawn point adjusted (CRITICAL: Still bugged, see ticket #4521)> * Tutorial gear missing (Known issue - Fix scheduled for patch 1.0.2)> * Chickens may be overpowered (Under investigation)> * Gravity occasionally inverts in north quadrant (Feature, not bug?)> * NPC dialogue loops detected (We're working on it)> * Players may experience existential dread (This is normal)>> We apologize for the inconvenience. Please enjoy your adventure!
The box disappeared with a cheery chime that sounded like it was laughing at me.
I sat up slowly, my dignity already at 0 HP, and surveyed my surroundings with the growing realization that this was, in fact, real. Or at least as real as a virtual reality could be when it felt like someone had downloaded my consciousness into a malfunctioning toaster.
I was definitely in *Eryndale Online*, the closed beta MMORPG I'd applied for using fourteen years of gaming experience, six fake email accounts, and one very creative essay about "what heroism means to me" (spoiler: I'd plagiarized it from a anime forum).
The world looked... incredible, actually. Trees swayed with individual leaf physics that probably required three server farms to render. In the distance, I could see a village with NPCs moving about their routines, smoke rising from chimneys in perfectly calculated spirals. Birds flew overhead in formations that suggested someone had spent way too much time programming their flight patterns. The sky was that perfect shade of fantasy-game blue that didn't quite exist in reality.
It was beautiful. Immersive. A technical marvel.
I was also still naked.
After the initial panic attack (which earned me a status effect popup reading "Wheezing Fool - Duration: 3 minutes - Effects: -5 Stamina, +10% Embarrassment"), I realized a few critical things:
First: I was definitely in *Eryndale Online*. The HUD, the feeling, the way my hands looked just slightly more heroic than my real ones—all confirmed it.
Second: The world looked *too* good. Like, suspiciously good. Beta tests weren't supposed to be this polished. Things should be broken, half-textured, full of placeholder assets. But everything here looked finished. Almost too finished.
Third: I had no gear, no items, no class selection, and the HUD was stuck in some kind of developer mode that normal players definitely shouldn't have access to.
In the top-left corner of my vision, where my character name and class should be, it simply read:
> **[BUGGED SURVIVOR - Lv. 1]**> Status: Confused, Cold, Mildly Moist> HP: 100/100> MP: 50/50> Special Condition: Catastrophically Underprepared
I pulled up my menu with a thought, praying for a miracle, or at least some pants. The interface appeared with a soft *whoosh*, displaying my character sheet in all its pathetic glory.
> **CHARACTER: Kazuki Tanaka**> Level: 1> Class: ??? (ERROR: Class data corrupted)> Title: None (You haven't earned the right)>> **STATS:**> Strength: 5 (Pathetic)> Dexterity: 7 (Slightly Less Pathetic)> Intelligence: 12 (You read patch notes once)> Wisdom: 3 (You clicked 'Accept All' without reading)> Charisma: 6 (Your mom thinks you're handsome)> Luck: -2 (This explains everything)>> **SKILLS:**> * Slightly Moist (Passive) - You are 2% more resistant to water damage. Congratulations.>> **INVENTORY:**> * 1x Broken Spoon (??? rarity) - A spoon that has seen better days. And worse days. Mostly worse days.> * 0x Pants> * 0x Dignity> * 0x Hope
I stared at the screen for a long moment, my brain trying to process the absolute disaster that was my character build.
"Slightly Moist," I read aloud, my voice flat. "My only skill. In the entire game. Is being. Slightly. Moist."
The HUD helpfully added a tooltip:
> **Slightly Moist:** Through either incredible misfortune or a critical error in the character creation process, you have gained an affinity for moisture. This provides a minor resistance to water-based damage and makes you uncomfortable at parties. This skill cannot be removed or upgraded. We're sorry.
"Okay," I muttered, closing the menu and taking a deep breath of digital air that somehow smelled like grass and poor life decisions. "Okay okay okay. Don't panic. We can fix this. It's just like that time I glitched into the final boss room in *Sword Saga Online* with no weapons and had to slap my way to victory using only my fists and spite. I just need to find some gear, maybe a tutorial NPC, figure out what's going on, and—"
*Cluck.*
I froze.
The sound came from behind me—a simple, innocent chicken noise that in any other context would be completely harmless. But I'd played enough games to know that nothing in a beta test was ever truly innocent.
I turned slowly, every survival instinct I'd honed through thousands of hours of gaming screaming at me to run.
Ten feet away, standing in a patch of suspiciously well-rendered grass, was a chicken.
It was white, fluffy, and staring directly into my soul with eyes that held an intelligence no poultry should possess. Its feathers seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly glow. Above its head, a name tag appeared in ominous red text:
> **Lv. ??? - THE UNKILLABLE CHICKEN OF DOOM**> Warning: Raid Boss> Warning: Tutorial Deletion Event> Warning: Do Not Engage> Seriously, Don't
My mouth went dry. My character's Slightly Moist skill did nothing to help.
"Okay," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "I don't want any trouble. I respect birds. I recycle. I've never eaten KFC. Well, maybe once. Okay, maybe more than once, but I can change. I can be better. Please don't—"
The chicken tilted its head.
Time seemed to slow down. I could see every individual feather, each one rendered with excruciating detail. I could see the malice in its beady little eyes. I could see my entire digital life flashing before my eyes (all thirty seconds of it).
**CLUCK.**
It lunged.
---
I died screaming like a toddler who'd been told there was no more ice cream.
The combat log appeared in my vision, helpfully documenting my humiliation:
> **COMBAT LOG:**> The Unkillable Chicken of Doom attacks Kazuki for 47 damage (CRITICAL HIT - Beak Strike)> Kazuki attempts to dodge (FAILED - Panic penalty applied)> Kazuki attempts to block with Broken Spoon (FAILED - Spoon ineffective against divine poultry)> The Unkillable Chicken of Doom attacks Kazuki for 53 damage (CRITICAL HIT - Wing Slap)> Kazuki has died> Death Count: 1 (This is embarrassing)> Respawning in 5... 4... 3... 2... 1...
---
I woke up five seconds later with a gasp, my hands clutching at my chest where the chicken had pecked me. Still naked. Still in the same field. Still in the worst beta test experience of my life.
The chicken was standing approximately ten feet away, next to my previous corpse (which was pixelating away into nothingness), guarding the spot like a miniature feathered raid boss.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," I whispered.
The chicken clucked once. Menacingly.
I ran.
---
**DEATH #2:**> Kazuki was pecked while fleeing (Death by cowardice)
**DEATH #3:**> Kazuki attempted to fight back with Broken Spoon (The spoon broke. Kazuki followed.)
**DEATH #4:**> Kazuki tried to climb a tree (Trees are not safe from chickens)
**DEATH #5:**> Kazuki attempted to reason with the chicken using interpretive dance (This was never going to work)
**DEATH #6:**> Kazuki rage-quit but the game doesn't have a logout button (Thanks, beta test)
**DEATH #7:**> Kazuki accepted his fate and just stood there (The chicken respected this but killed him anyway)
---
After the tenth failed attempt to dodge-roll around the Unkillable Chicken of Doom (I'd discovered that my character had dodge-rolling capability, but my own coordination did not), I finally respawned far enough away that the chicken lost interest.
I limped toward a nearby structure that looked like civilization—a small wooden hut with a sign that read "TUTORIAL HOUSE" in letters that flickered between English and corrupted Unicode symbols.
I kicked the door open with what little dignity I had left (none) and stumbled inside.
A looping NPC stood in the center of the room, a generic medieval peasant with dead eyes and a smile that didn't reach them. The moment I entered, he sprang to life:
"Greetings, adventurer! Let me tell you how to move, attack, and breathe in this glorious land of—greetings, adventurer! Let me tell you how to move, attack, and breathe in this glorious—greetings, adventurer! Let me—"
"SHUT UP!" I screamed, smacking him with my broken spoon.
The spoon shattered into pixels.
The NPC didn't even flinch. He just kept looping, his dialogue cutting in and out like a scratched CD from 2003.
"—how to move, attack, and—ERROR—please restart tutorial—ERROR—thank you for playing—"
Then he exploded.
Not dramatically. Not with fire or glory. He just... popped. Like a soap bubble. And where he'd been standing, a small pile of copper coins appeared, along with a floating notification:
> **Congratulations! You have discovered a secret quest: "Debugged Destiny".**>> Quest Description: ??? (Data corrupted)> Objectives: ??? (Check back later)> Reward: ??? (Probably nothing)> Quest Type: Hidden/Broken/Impossible>> Note: This quest was not supposed to be accessible. By breaking the tutorial NPC, you have fundamentally altered your playthrough. Good luck!
"Vague and mysterious," I muttered, collecting the coins. "I'm in. Not like I have a choice."
---
I wandered through the village—"Noobshire," according to a sign that kept respawning in different locations—taking in the absolute chaos of a beta test that had clearly been released about six months too early.
NPCs were everywhere, and they were all broken in unique and fascinating ways:
A blacksmith walked repeatedly into his own forge, his character model catching fire, extinguishing, then catching fire again in an endless loop.
A cow floated six feet off the ground, mooing in distorted audio that sounded like demonic chanting.
A mailbox barked at me when I walked past. Actual dog barks. From a mailbox.
Two villagers were having a conversation where they just repeated each other's lines:
"Have you heard about the dragon?""Have you heard about the dragon?""Yes, I just told you.""Yes, I just told you.""This is getting concerning.""This is getting concerning."
A child NPC ran past screaming "THE NUMBERS, MASON!" over and over again.
It was beautiful. It was chaos. It was exactly the kind of broken mess I lived for.
And that's when **PatchNotes** arrived.
A glowing textbox materialized above my head, following me like the world's most annoying hat. A robotic voice emanated from it, somehow managing to sound both helpful and deeply condescending:
> "PATCHNOTES ASSISTANT v1.0 INSTALLED. WELCOME, KAZUKI.">> "I am your personal guide through this broken hellscape we call a beta test.">> "Warning: Game state critically unstable. Tutorial chicken classified as World Threat Level: Omega.">> "Current player status: Alive (barely), Naked (extremely), Confused (understandably)."
"Yeah," I muttered, glaring up at the floating text. "I noticed. Thanks for the help."
> "Patch 1.01 will be implemented in 72 hours: Hero now respawns 12% faster. Underwear cooldown reduced by 3 seconds. Chickens remain overpowered pending further testing."
"There's an... underwear cooldown?" I asked, my voice hollow with disbelief.
> "You didn't want to know that was a mechanic. But yes. Every respawn has a 30-second window before basic undergarments materialize. This is for game balance reasons we cannot explain."
"I hate everything about this."
> "Acknowledged. Your feedback has been recorded and will be ignored."
PatchNotes was apparently my new companion, whether I liked it or not. And based on the sass levels, we were going to have a complicated relationship.
---
I set out on my first real quest, which I titled in my own head: **"Find Pants: A Kazuki Story."**
After bribing an NPC blacksmith with my 3 copper coins and the broken spoon handle (which the NPC accepted with a dialogue line that just said "TRANSACTION_COMPLETE_ERROR_404"), I received my first piece of equipment:
> **Cloth of Minimal Shame**>> Armor Type: Pants (Technically)> Defense: +1 (Better than nothing)> Special Effects:> * -20% Embarrassment in social situations> * +5% Confidence when standing still> * May fall off during combat (20% chance)> * Smells faintly of disappointment>> Description: Shorts crafted from the finest tutorial fabric available (which is to say, not very fine at all). They provide minimal protection and maximum "at least I tried" energy. Not recommended for boss fights, social gatherings, or existing.
I equipped them immediately. They materialized on my character with a soft *fwoomph* and the heavenly sensation of no longer being completely naked.
PatchNotes chimed in:
> "Achievement Unlocked: Big Boy Pants"> Reward: +1 Self Esteem (Temporary)> Note: You have reached the bare minimum of civilization. Congratulations.
"Thanks," I said flatly. "Your support means everything."
> "I am programmed for encouragement. This is encouragement. Please acknowledge."
"You're doing great, buddy."
> "Sarcasm detected. Noted."
---
While exploring a forest that seemed to phase in and out of existence (trees would occasionally turn into 2D sprites, then back to 3D models, like reality couldn't decide what rendering engine to use), I accidentally stepped on what I thought was a pretty flower.
It was not a flower.
It was a portal.
I fell through reality itself, tumbling through a kaleidoscope of broken textures and error messages, before landing face-first in a zone that definitely wasn't meant for players.
The area was labeled in my HUD as:
> **Map_Dev_Temp_DO_NOT_SHIP_v7**>> Warning: This zone contains unfinished assets> Warning: Collision detection disabled> Warning: You shouldn't be here> Warning: Seriously, how did you get here
It was a nightmare landscape of floating cubes, invisible walls that I kept running into, half-textured trees that looked like they'd escaped from a PS1 game, and in the center of it all: a suspiciously shiny treasure chest with a sign that read "DO NOT OPEN - CONTAINS BROKEN ITEMS - WILL CRASH GAME - WE MEAN IT THIS TIME."
I stared at the chest.
The chest stared back at me (metaphorically).
PatchNotes appeared:
> "I can see what you're thinking."
"You don't know what I'm thinking."
> "You're thinking about opening that chest."
"Maybe."
> "That chest will either give you a game-breaking item or delete your character entirely."
"So you're saying there's a fifty-fifty chance of something good?"
> "That is not what I said."
"I'm hearing fifty-fifty."
> "I am documenting this for the dev team to laugh at later."
I opened the chest.
Reality glitched. My character model inverted itself for three seconds. The sky turned purple, then green, then settled on a beige color that hurt to look at.
And then, from the chest, I received:
> **Debug Cloak (Legendary)**>> Type: Back Equipment (???)> Rarity: This Shouldn't Exist>> Effects:> * Makes wearer invisible to game developers and admin oversight> * +50% Exploit Detection> * Allows access to areas marked "RESTRICTED"> * Smells faintly of source code and poor decisions> * Cannot be removed once equipped (Cursed? Maybe? We're not sure)>> Description: A cloak woven from pure programming errors and the tears of QA testers. Wearing this marks you as someone who has fundamentally broken the game's progression. We can't ban you because we can't detect you. Congratulations, you're a walking EULA violation.
The cloak materialized on my back, shimmering with colors that didn't exist in nature. It felt like wearing a rainbow made of bugs.
"Oh," I whispered, a smile spreading across my face. "We are *so* breaking this game now."
PatchNotes sighed.
> "Patch 1.02: Hero has obtained debug privileges. Game balance ruined. Developer crying detected."
---
Armed with my broken spoon handle, cursed shorts, and a legendary cloak made of game bugs, I returned to the field where the Unkillable Chicken of Doom waited.
It was still there. Still guarding its territory. Still radiating an aura of murderous intent that no chicken should possess.
"Alright," I said, cracking my knuckles. "Let's talk."
I activated the Debug Cloak and tiptoed closer. The chicken's aggro detection didn't trigger. Its head swiveled, but its AI couldn't lock onto me.
I was invisible to the game's enemy targeting system.
PatchNotes whispered:
> "New option unlocked: Tame Glitched Creature"> Note: This was never supposed to be possible> Note: We're going to get so many bug reports about this
A prompt appeared in my vision:
> **Would you like to attempt taming: THE UNKILLABLE CHICKEN OF DOOM?**>> Success Rate: 0.01%> Consequences of Failure: Death (Probably permanent this time)> Consequences of Success: Unknown (Nothing good)>> **Name your new companion:**
I didn't hesitate. I typed: **Nugget.**
I pressed confirm.
The chicken blinked. Once. Twice.
Its name tag changed:
> **Nugget - Lv. ??? (Tamed)**> Loyalty: Confused but Willing> Type: World Boss (Domesticated???)
Then it sat down.
Just... sat.
Like a normal chicken.
Like I hadn't just tamed a raid boss that had killed me ten times.
"Holy crap," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "I just tamed a world boss."
PatchNotes:
> "Patch 1.03: Hero can now ruin story balance. Game difficulty curve broken. All future content will need to be rebalanced. The dev team has been notified. They are not happy."
---
I approached Nugget slowly, half-expecting it to remember all the times it had murdered me and decide to do it again. But instead, it just looked up at me with its beady little eyes and made a soft *bwark* sound.
I reached out and patted its head.
It didn't explode me.
"Good chicken," I said. "We're going to be friends now. Please don't kill me anymore."
Nugget clucked once, then stood up and spread its wings.Nugget has recognized you as its rider. New Ability Unlocked: Mount (World Boss Edition)Warning: This mount has not been playtested Warning: Flight physics may be unstable Warning: Insurance not included"Wait, I can ride—"Nugget grabbed me with talons that suddenly seemed much larger than they should be, flapped its wings with the force of a helicopter, and launched us into the sky like a rocket made of feathers and poor game design.I screamed . 
Nugget clucked triumphantly.
We soared over Noobshire, over the Tutorial Forest, over the broken landscape of *Eryndale Online*. The wind whipped through my hair (and my Cloth of Minimal Shame, which held on for dear life). Below us, I could see other players—other people who'd somehow ended up in this beta test nightmare—wandering around confused.
I had no idea where I was going.
I had no idea *how* I was still alive.
But I was finally wearing pants and riding a murder-chicken through the sky like the world's least qualified protagonist.
It was, somehow, a good day.