"... you look exactly the same," Sam said, because Alex did.

And then Alex didn't. "Shapeshifter, bitch." Out of politeness, he didn't add, "and the rest of you are stupid idiots for not having thought of it." It was implied. It was always implied.

There's really no such thing as a collective sigh, but call it that. We all had our reactions and coping mechanisms. I was sure that Sam was quietly sputtering about how that wasn't what was offered, but she couldn't exactly argue with the results. Mike was instantly envious; Mary was amused. I just breathed through it; yes, I was the one who actually sighed. That was my thing.

None of us were the Game Master. Alex wasn't wheedling or arguing. He'd made his pitch to whatever 'god' had 'summoned' us, and it had worked. I considered the possibility that that made him the bravest of us, and not just the cleverest. That didn't seem fair.

Not thirty minutes ago, I'd been proud of all of us. We'd only freaked out and cried for, say, an hour after having been 'summoned' by a 'god' from 'a magical realm' to 'save it,' and having been deposited in a grim sort of waiting room that was The Matrix meets an otherworldly plane. It had been a lot. I don't think any of us were yet sure what was really happening. Thoughts of Mark Zuckerberg drugging us and snatching us up had flitted through my head more than once. I hated to think he possessed VR tech centuries ahead of what was on market, but I was also finding Occam's Razor as dull as a butter knife.

"Okay," Alex-not-Alex said. He shifted from some demonic-looking brute to an ethereal nymph, and seemed very satisfied with himself.

"Are you like some kind of idiot-savant shapeshifter, too?" Sam asked, both bitterly and incredulously.

Alex shrugged. "Loophole. He - sorry, it, until we know more - let us choose our appearance. I have no clue if Mike looking like a dark-elf-ninja-supermodel-whatever actually gives him any powers, or if maybe we get the powers at a later stage, but I focused quite specifically on appearance. A shapeshifter appears as anything it wants to appear as, and, heck, even if actual shapeshifters in this world have limitations, I might not have the same ones. This is the equivalent of wishing for infinite wishes, within the bounds of the options."

I saw his second new face screw up a bit. Right before our eyes, it - she? - twisted up, compressed, made us all freak out all over again, and turned into a classic treasure chest. Then the treasure chest opened on its own, revealing vicious fangs that were coated in a thick slime that linked tops to bottoms.

"Now that's a joke with layers," the horrific thing groaned and creaked out.

After another sanity-destroying bout of visual impossibility, Alex was just Alex again. He looked no worse for the wear, just infinitely smug.

"And that is what Alex does," I sighed out. "He's that guy."

"'And for once,'" he replied in mock quotes, "'we are truly grateful that he is,' all four of my friends said, because they have all realized how incredibly beneficial my particular bent might be in this particularly insane and unprecedented situation."

"He's got a point, Sam," Mike said. His voice was higher and reedier, apropos to his new form. He'd only lost a few inches of height - always that pride, with him - but he'd become extremely willowy.

"And so diplomatically made, as usual," Mary added. The smile was already back, which I took to be a good sign. Even as a towering, taut, red-haired Valkyrie, it was still hers: small and pursed, like a teasing kiss just waiting for you to trigger its trap with your own lips. Its danger was less subtle on her new face - even a bit of a mismatch - but there was no denying that she was more attractive in her new form. Mike was arguable, but I'd have said all four of us were. Alex was Alex - and also, apparently, anything else he wanted to be.

Sam rolled her new eyes - fiery amber, just how she liked them on her character sheets - and flipped her snow-white mane. Of the four of us, she'd gone hog-wild with aesthetics. Mike, Mary and I had jumped into archetypes, though beautiful versions at that. Sam had agonized, clearly.

"Well, okay then," she said dismissively. "That's that. What's next?"

"MY POWER WANES," the voice boomed out, "AND SO MY FINAL BLESSINGS MUST CARRY THE CURSE YOU KNOW SO WELL."

We all just looked at Alex. We were quite beyond pretending that anybody else was in charge.

"Leveling and experience," he said. "Our buddy is saying he can only nudge us onto paths that mesh with this whole 'magical world' of his, but then we'll have to grind it out to become powerful enough to actually get the job done."

"... You got all of that, from that?" Sam asked. "Bull fucking shit. Alex, what is this? What did you get us into?"

Alex put up his hands. "Swear on my life, Sam, I didn't do this. I'm just rolling with it. But yes, to answer the question you should've asked, that little tidbit just pushed me about twenty percent in the direction of this being some elaborate setup. Thinly-veiled justifications for classic RPG tropes? Sus. As. Fuck."

The booming, otherworldly voice remained silent. Alex, in particular, glanced up and around, as if daring it to get defensive. Instead, the door appeared again. It was time for us to pick who went first, and once again venture into the unknown.

"Wait," I said. "Do any of you actually remember what happened last time you went in? Because I don't."

"No," Mary said. Her smile disappeared. "I just... I just know that I went through the door, and then 'chose' this form."

"Ditto," Mike helpfully added.

"Same," Sam said.

"Yeah, that's not great," Alex said. "Actually, that's quite bad. I was really hoping you four would be able to do recon for me before I went this time."

"What are those odds looking like now, Alex?" I asked.

He looked grim. "Tilting the other way, Nate. That'd be one hell of a laser-precision drug trip to inflict on five different people. Either that or our minds are being screwed with perpetually. Given the snappy and on-brand back-and-forth we're enjoying, though, that doesn't seem very likely either."

"We should talk it out," I said.

Alex shook his head. "Too many possibilities, not enough data. Not productive. Besides, call it a hunch..."

The door began to vibrate and fade away. Another beside it began to fade in.

"MY POWER WANES, CHAMPIONS."

"Yeah," Alex said. "That."

Mike stepped forward. "I know what I am," he said. "I'll go first." Putting it diplomatically, he was the group's blunt instrument, even when sporting ironically sharp daggers or swords. His rogues were never truly sneaky - just game-mechanic sneaky to pump up his damage.

"Thanks, man," Alex said. He sounded sincere.

"I'll tell you whatever I can when I get back," Mike said, and then he grabbed hold of the vibrating, fading door's knob. The door stabilized; I thought I saw Mike's new form absorb some of its instability before it did. He opened it into blank whiteness, gave us one last nod, and stepped inside. The door closed and locked behind him, but didn't disappear.

The next door faded fully into view.

"No time," Alex said. "I'll barely have a chance to ask questions, let alone run tests, even if Mike's back in a hurry."

I sighed again - differently, and the three of them knew exactly what I meant by it. "Just do the best you can, Alex," I said. "That's all we can ask."

I headed towards the door. Alex grabbed my arm. "You're going to be the healer?" he asked.

"I assumed," I replied.

"A thought has occurred," he said. "Walk the tightrope. Don't pick something that's too reliant on reagents, but don't make yourself beholden to some higher power, either. We don't know just how real, or for how long, this whole thing's going to be. Arcane magic. Inner strength. Nature. No patron gods. No pacts."

"You guys heard that, right?" I called out.

"Got it," Mary said.

"Yeah," Sam said.

I gave Alex a grateful nod, then tried for a smile. "Knew there was a reason we didn't kick you out."

"Too bad you didn't find a genie in a magic lamp instead, though, huh?"

I shrugged. "Who knows? We still might."

"I love you, you know," he said. "And keep your head out of the gutter. I'm still angling for that date with Susan."

"Love you too, man," I said. "Gotta go."

He nodded, and let me.

I didn't tell him he should ask Mary out instead. It was the wrong time, and Mike being her brother meant it might not ever be the right one.

[continued]