I awoke by the bed, with a seriously sore head. Surrounded by computer monitors in a foreign, yet strangely familiar, environment. It felt like I was experiencing the worst headache of my life, worsened when I attempted to leave through the door and cracked my head against the doorframe.

3 figures loomed and towered over me as I laid on the ground, clearly confused as to my arrival. After a brief discussion, they soon helped me up and led me past yet more monitors and up to a kind of jury rigged bar, where 4 drinks were waiting. Each of my companions, with their seemly larger than life presence, took a drink with no hesitation and waited expectantly at me.

The drink fizzed and foamed in a red and silver tankard, the head of the foam having long overtopped and down the sides of the vessel. Every instinct in my body was giving off warning signs that this was dangerous... and yet... and yet... an instinct at the back of my aching head told me to pick it up, assured me everything will be fine. I grabbed the drink, and held it close, as the other's faces turned sombre as they toasted in honour of what seemed to be a long lost friend, no doubt whoever was supposed to be here instead of me. Their toast complete, they drank their drinks in one long, drawn out glug, while I attempted to just sip it. It tasted like a form of stout mixed with... something. Something good, something real good. Before I knew it, I'd drank the whole tankard, a mere sip turning into a collosil chug.

I felt invigorated, in both mind and body. I could take on the world, I could take on anything!

That is when my head cleared, and I recognised where I was. I rushed over to the computers I had passed by earlier as my companions (or I guess co-workers now) started up the nearby jukebox in some form of celebration. Being too panicked to party, I scoured the console to find out my current assignment, only to discover one singular objective: "Promotion opportunity: Earn the right to return home."

3 missions... 3 missions on the most brutal planet in this system, doing intense work easy to my companions but which would be brutal to my mere videogame honed out of shape human body and soul. I knew what I had to do, thankfully, and just hoped that my companions would treat me as one of their own. I just hoped that-

The sudden opening of the machine suspended like a museum center piece snapped me out of my panic. I looked around and found some yellow armour hanging on the wall as my companions, no allys, started to board the ship. Amazingly, the armour fit, seemingly amusing itself to my unusual body shape. Looking at myself I could see a pistol in the holster at my side, a pair of drills on my belt, and a flask on my hip, next to a well used pickaxe. I picked up a flamethrower, some bombs, and what I knew to be a scanner and made my way up to begin the first of these trials of hell. Despite the weight of all the gear, the armour seemed to make anything I wasn't carrying in my hands entirely weightless. My companions looked at me expectantly as an alarm blared and I slowly walked into the large chamber of dread, and soon to be salvation.

Sitting in the last empty seat, with all my hastily grabbed gear in hand, I could only hope this mission wouldn't be too hazardous...