Gaming the System

by P A Wikoff

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  “What can I do for you…Tag, is it?”

  “I’m in some serious need of gold. You got any for me?”

  “That was bold, but sadly, no.”

  “I am in a real bind. Are you sure you don’t have any?” Tag asked again, this time walking around me gazing at my equipment, or lack thereof.

  “Look at me. I am using a candlestick as a weapon.”

  “Oh, really? That’s dumb. Here I thought you were saving up for something really nice. Are you sure that’s not what you’re doing?”

  “Even if I had money, which I don’t, I wouldn’t give you any. You’re in a much better spot than I am. I mean, at least you are wearing armor, for fack’s sake.”

  “True, true.”

  There was an awkwardly long pause.

  “Can you check for me?” Tag pressed.

  “Check what?”

  “Your inventory. Just to make sure.”

  “What?”

  “Let me see what you have.”

  “Fine, I guess.” Reaching for my back, I pulled out a couple of earwig plates I looted. “Look, this is all I have, these exoskeletons and…”

  He cut me off, “Can I have those?”

  “No, I need them. Or at least, I might need them…later.”

  “Do you know what they’re for?”

  “Not a clue.”

  “Crafting. You can make some pretty decent armor with them. See, I have a piece of it right here.” He pointed to his forearm, indicating a plated bracer that had a similar color scheme to the earwig parts.

  “Great, thanks for the tip.”

  “I can craft some for you, if you like.”

  “Craft me what?”

  “Armor—breastplate, pants, gauntlets…you know, whatever you like.”

  “You would do that for me?”

  “For sure. One hundred percent.”

  “Hmm, I don’t know.” This whole situation seemed a little fishy to me.

  “Hey, man, I’m just trying to help you out. You would help me out if you could, right?”

  “I suppose.”

  “This time, you don’t even have to pay me.”

  I couldn’t pass up free, even if he was most likely the type of player to ask me for a favor later on. “Oh, really? Thanks.”

  “Good. Give them here.”

  “Do we need to bring up a trade window or something?”

  “No, no. Just hand them over.”

  As I began to give the guy the four earwig plates I had, I noticed Moogi shaking its head “no” at me, but it was too late. I had already parted with them.

  “Actually, that armor looks a little heavy. I don’t think I have the strength for it,” I said, coming up with the first excuse I could muster. “Maybe I’ll just take them back.”

  “Let me just make you something real quick. Hold up.”

  “You know what? I left my tools at my shop. I’ll be right back.”

  I grabbed for my earwig plates but missed.

  Before I could say another word, he was full-on sprinting from whence he came.

  “Get back here!” I chased after him.

  Our loud movements disturbed some birds in the brush nearby, alerting everyone to our presence.

  “Stop that thief.”

  He must have had a lot of points in his Speed stat, because there was no way I was keeping up, let alone catching up to him. Before long, I had to rest, and he just kept on going with all my hard-earned drops.

  “You will be seeing me again, Tag. Mark my words, this isn’t the end of this.”

  Moogi was also catching its breath next to me. We shared a look of discontent and turned around.

  Halfway down the path, I spotted something twinkling off to the side. Pushing through the bushes, I took a couple points of shrubbery damage, but I didn’t care. Something was calling me, and it was…

  A coin cache filled with four copper pieces.

  Copper sounded pretty basic, at least compared to how Tag was talking about gold and all. I would have much rather had my earwig plates. Then I wondered why anyone would bother to hide something that was worthless? And inside some thorny shrubbery, no less.

  “No bother. It’s mine now, and finders, keepers.”

  Scraped up and bleeding, I had nothing to bandage myself up with—and my hit points were ticking away, with no signs of clotting or slowing. Was I going to just bleed out completely? Either this was a special bush with everlasting wounds, or bleeding here was a bitch.

  I activated the summoning spell. Again, my body was focused only on the task before me, and poof, another instant healing potion was in my grasp. Without even looking to see how much more of my life I had lost during the casting time, I guzzled it down fast.

  I watched in amazement as my cuts closed up and repaired right before my eyes, like some form of stop-motion animation. There wasn’t a scar or any evidence of a wound, unlike the hideous beauty scar Sally had given me.

  I gave it a beat, to make sure my hit points were remaining steady.

  “Back to full life. Crisis averted,” I said, dusting off my hands. Then I remembered that I got refunded some mana after using my summoned item. I had just enough to cast another healing potion.

  Nonchalantly, I started the process over again, not thinking too much about it. Only this time it was different. About halfway through the casting time, the object fizzled out of my hand, turning into vapor in a mild explosion.

  “What happened? Where did it go?” I looked all around me, but nothing was there.

  Moogi gave a shrug as it helped me look around for the missing item.

  The spell must have misfired. I didn’t know that was even a thing.

  “That is very unreliable. No worries, I’ll just try it again.” I pressed on my summoning tattoo, but nothing was happening. Nothing at all. I switched fingers and tried again. Still nothing.

  Then Moogi alerted me to the problem by tapping its other arm.

  I had 18/42 mana left. I needed 22 mana to summon another potion.

  “Oh, no! Because the spell backfired, I didn’t get back the mana I normally would after drinking the potion,” I said.

  This whole respawn had been very disappointing so far. “How am I expected to do better when I start off with much less?” Before my ghost companion could chime in, I answered my own question, “Learning, I guess.”

  I should have put more points in Psionics. If I remembered correctly, that was the primary stat for spellcasting.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Earth Defense Force 2017

  U nderequipped, I reentered the Twisted Forest with feigned gusto and confidence. Right away, I spotted an earwig beast that was gnawing on something. Being distracted, it didn’t notice me enter the area. So, I did what anyone would. I smashed it directly in its behind. I was pleasantly surprised that my attack did four damage. It was much more than the single damage I had done when I whacked them on the armored bits.

  The beast turned around baring its gnarly bug face at me. It seemed there was a new problem now. Attacking its backside somehow activated some sort of rage power. The earwig was no longer slow and predictable. It was now glowing red-hot and moving twice as fast.

  “This thing is pissed!”

  Busy dodging and backstepping, I had no opportunity to attack.

  “Moogi, how low is it?”

  “Moogi. (It looks moderately wounded.)”

  “Like half?”

  Moogi waved its hand back and forth, gesturing that I was more or less correct.

  Not only was the earwig mad, but it was constantly attempting to pin me down with its rear pincher—the same attack Sally had killed me with. I doubted this one was as powerful as the much larger Sally, but I wasn’t going to find out, especially while I still had resurrection fatigue.

  Dodging as it charged with its headbutt attack, I circled around a tree and smacked it on the rear again—this time for two damage. I was hoping that attack was going to kill it, but my q
uick math wasn’t correct.

  The earwig lunged with a sweeping strike from its rear, which I didn’t expect.

  I tumbled to the floor, grabbing my side where it hit.

  It reared up on its hind legs, giving me a deadly stare.

  “No!” I scolded.

  This situation was too familiar, and I knew exactly which attack was coming next. I wasn’t going to die like that, not again. With both hands over my head, I swung at the pincer as it descended upon me. Multi-colored blood drizzled on me like raindrops as I sunk the burning end of the candlestick deeper inside the soft bit I had struck.

  Smoke poured out of the wound as the beast pulled itself away from me.

  I was back on my feet and ready for action.

  Flames ignited out of the spot where I had jabbed it with my candlestick. The creature twisted and turned until its pincher completely severed from its body and fell to the ground with a gushing splat.

  That little flame had proven to be quite effective. Except now the candle was all snuffed out, or rather, melted away.

  Without a light source, this area was dark and dreadful. Even though I had taken off a large chunk of its body, the enraged earwig was still alive and was now concealed by darkness.

  Even without its pincher attack, I couldn’t find an opening. I had no other choice but to go in headfirst towards the raging thing. It was brutal and gory. We mauled at each other, trading blow for blow. Its armor was now bashed to hell, and my candlestick was now bent and looking equally as bad. I used my pain to push myself further into each swing. “Do you like death?! Then die!”

  And with a final whap, I crushed the thing for three damage, ending it forever. With all my anger and determination, I had managed to raise my attack power slightly. It seemed that this game was more than simple math and statistical calculations.

  When all was said and done, I had lost eleven hit points from the exchange. With the two hit points I had lost due to my resurrection fatigue, I had thirteen remaining.

  “Okay, that was not worth it and totally gross.”

  “Moogi. (Here.)”

  I walked over to the severed tail where Moogi was waiting like a hunting dog pointing at a prized kill.

  Looting this part of the corpse, I received an interesting drop. It was a pincer blade.

  “Oh, wow. I wonder if I could turn this into a weapon of sorts.”

  With a thumbs up, Moogi seemed to agree with my assumption.

  Looking at my busted-up candlestick. I knew that I might need to find a replacement sooner, rather than later. After pondering my situation a bit more, sooner turned into right now.

  I made my way back to the temple’s weapon shop.

  “Hey!” I said abruptly waking the scruffy, white-haired man from his deep slumber.

  Falling off his supporting arm, the shopkeeper’s face collided with the table below.

  “Ooof. What…what can I help you with?”

  “I need to turn this into a weapon, please.” I slammed the wet pincher blade right where his head had landed. A multitude of colors splattered everywhere.

  “Okay. Do you have a handle for it?”

  “No. Do you sell them?”

  “Yes, that would be…” The shopkeeper looked at me for a moment, then gave his price, “One hundred fifty experience.”

  “Experience? Can’t I pay with coins instead?” This wasn’t the first time someone wanted to trade with experience. That was half a level worth of work. I couldn’t afford that sort of loss.

  He shot me a puzzled look.

  “Did I say something wrong?”

  “No. There just aren’t a lot of folks around here willing to part with their precious coins, is all.”

  “I don’t get it. Isn’t that the whole point of currency, spending it?”

  “Well, yeah, but don’t you have a…” The shopkeeper looked down the way for something that didn’t seem to be there, then he continued, “…debt or something to pay? I mean, I don’t know your situation, and it’s not my business to ask.”

  “Oh, right.” For a moment I had forgotten this was a jail sentence. Of course I had a debt to pay, probably the largest one of them all, but a couple of coins seemed like a drop in the bucket compared to the 150-experience loss. “I would rather pay in coins, if you don’t mind.”

  “Sure, I don’t mind.”

  “How does fifteen copper sound?”

  That was a huge difference. What an easy conversion rate; I just had to knock a zero off the amount.

  “That sounds great, except…I only have four.” I spread my copper pieces out next to the earwig fragment.

  “If I use my own materials for a handle, I would be losing out on the deal.” The shopkeeper started to push my pincher back to me.

  “There are only bugs out there. How do they expect me to make any money?”

  “You can always go grave robbing,” the shopkeeper suggested, pointing towards the back of the temple.

  It was true, I hadn’t gone adventuring over there yet, although I wasn’t sure if I was ready to fight zombies and such—not without a chainsaw or shotgun. Sadly, I doubted those things had ever existed in this type of game. There had to be another solution.

  “Can you use this?” I rested my bent candlestick next to the pile of bug parts, which were already starting to attract flies. “As a handle, I mean.”

  “That might work, but it’s bad luck to craft using stolen or desecrated materials.”

  How did he know? I could have sworn he was asleep when I stole the thing.

  “What about this?” I held up my last possession in the world—the eel leather.

  “Magic crafting isn’t my specialty, sorry.”

  This doom eel leather might be better than I thought if it requires magic crafting. “Can you try your best with what I gave you?”

  “What should I do? I want to help, but my hands are tied by morality’s tight thread,” the shopkeeper said, looking to the sky at an unseen recipient.

  Oh, he isn’t talking to me. This must be serious if he is looking for guidance from a higher power. I felt a bit awkward and wanted to say something, but instead I just let the moment play out.

  “Okay, masterful one. But remember, I warned him. You heard me do it,” the shopkeeper replied.

  With a wave of his hand, and not another word to me, the shopkeeper went back to his workbench with all of my offerings. Straight away, he started removing the flesh and excess tissue from the hard pincher exterior. He then bent back the pinchers, creating two blades, and fastened them onto the candlestick hilt, with rope of some kind. The whole process took about an hour.

  “Welp, this is the shortest axe I’ve ever made, but it’s yours now.” The shopkeeper handed me the weapon, which was still slightly bent.

  It was an odd item. I saw aspects of both the pincher and the candlestick, yet it resembled something completely new. It felt solid, much stronger than what I had been working with. All and all, I was satisfied.

  I nudged my foot through the sleeping Moogi.

  “Moogi. (AFK.)”

  “Moogi, you don’t have a keyboard to be away from. Now, wake up!” I said, through gritted teeth.

  Moogi turned towards me and cracked open one eye. “Moogi. (Pincher Short Axe.)” My companion rolled over to catch a couple more winks. “…moogi. (…-3.)”

  Negative three? What does that even mean? I chalked up Moogi’s response to being tired and grumpy. I was happy with the craftmanship, regardless.

  “This looks great. Thank you very much.”

  “I did the best I could with what you gave me. Come back and see me once you get some better materials, okay? Then I’ll make you something really interesting, at a reasonable price.”

  “Most definitely. I didn’t catch your name,” I said and extended my hand.

  With a cocked head, the shopkeeper stared back at me blankly.

  Startled awake, for no good reason, Moogi snapped its fingers and a nametag appea
red above the shopkeeper’s head—Marv.

  I glared at my little companion. What a lazy little…

  “Name’s Marv. Thanks for caring,” he said, grabbing my hand in a firm handshake. “Most people forget about introductions and manners around here. They just want what they want and never stop to ask or say thank you. I truly appreciate the gesture.”

  “Moogi. (You are now friendly with the shopkeeper Marv.)”

  It seemed that friendly status was different than friendship. I couldn’t help but wonder if that meant I could get a discount later on, though I felt a little skeezy even thinking such a thought.

  After a hearty goodbye, we were back on our way. Only this time, I had a weapon—not just a make-shift lighting accessory. Plus, with all that time I spent waiting around, my HP was back to full, and the resurrection fatigue debuff had also expired.

  Hunting for revenge—for Sally—I went back into the Twisted Forest with murderous intent.

  My weapon no longer had a flame on the tip, but it did glow slightly with a warm sort of light.

  After a couple of minutes exploring the forest, I reached another earwig. It came at me with a charging headbutt attack, which I saw coming from a mile away.

  I countered it with a sidestep and a slash—as I remembered their patterns.

  Instantly, I saw a big difference. Even though Marv had added more parts to the candlestick, it somehow felt lighter and less cumbersome to wield—almost balanced.

  After finishing off the first earwig without getting hit, I noticed that the weapon had a higher damage range. I saw numbers upwards of four against the earwig’s armored bits. After I had killed the third straight earwig in this manner, I decided to try something bold.

  I continued on, deeper into the forest, excited to test out the limits of my newly crafted weapon. Spying another one with its back turned to me, I snuck up on it like before. With all my might, I swung down upon its bulbous pincher with my axe and severed it straight off its body. The hit flashed like a light from a camera and a whopping fourteen damage misted out of the bug.

  The beast died in one shot.

  “Moogi. (Critical hit.)”