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Greg Veder vs The World (Worm/The Gamer)

Discussion in 'Creative Writing' started by ZFighter18, Feb 16, 2018.

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  1. Threadmarks: Tutorial 1.1
    ZFighter18

    ZFighter18 Getting sticky.

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    [​IMG]

    "My reflexes have been honed by years of videogames!"




    Art by Vikconder

    Greg Veder / The Gamer Cross. Inspired by Perfection, We are number one but it's Greg and he's a Superhero, and A Bad Name.


    Beta-ed by Mannymcdude, BlueRose, dzk87, and kenmadragon







    Greg Veder vs The World
    (In which Greg Veder's super nerdy gamer dreams come true)


    Tutorial 1.1

    – o – o – o – o – o – o – o –​

    It was still there, to his frustration.

    Mocking him as it hung there, ignoring gravity.

    It wasn’t the first one, either.

    One had been there when he woke up.

    It remained there when he took a shower.

    It didn’t vanish when he brushed his teeth, either. Even after spitting a mouthful of water at it, it didn’t magically disappear, the frothy spray passing through it and splashing all over his mirror and back onto his face. Oddly enough, it did seem to jump back when he tried to lick it. Greg wasn’t sure whether to take that as an insult or not.

    It did finally disappear when he prodded it with his toothbrush, so that was something.

    Even now, as he sat at the kitchen table, all this new one did was hover in the air a few inches over his mother's blonde head of hair, mocking him and generally being an annoying distraction from his Frosted Flakes.

    Susan Veder
    Nurse
    Lv 9


    Odds that I’m hallucinating? Greg paused to think about it, raising a spoon of his favorite cereal to his mouth as he continued to stare at the semi-translucent words hanging in the air across the table from him. Words floating in the air that Mom can’t see makes me wanna say yes but...

    Greg thought back to the blue screen that had greeted him in his bed when he woke up.

    Okay, that one had been super weird too. But at the very least, it had the decency to vanish when he poked it.

    Greg wrinkled his nose, slightly annoyed. Already tried poking the one above Mom’s head when she sat down. All that got me was a weird look and a bunch of questions.

    Although in hindsight, maybe trying to excuse his actions by telling his mother he was “looking for lice in her hair...uh... like a monkey!” was not the best idea he’d ever had. No Mom, I didn’t go in your medicine cabinet again.

    It’s like she thinks I’m five or something. With a mental shrug, Greg glanced around the kitchen, not noticing anything out of the ordinary apart from some terrible wall art someone had gifted his Mom with recently. Okay, no dancing technicolor elephants. I might not have lost all my SAN points just yet.

    So, if I’m not crazy, Greg’s gaze flicked back to the glowing blue lettering, then how do I explain you? Unless this is some cosmic prank or something...

    After a moment, Greg blinked, dropping the spoon back into the bowl as his eyes widened. This a prank, isn’t it? Of course, that makes perfect sense. I’m being pranked… by a cape! His eyes widened further as he pieced together the game-like quality of the pop-ups and which cape would - or could - go to that extent for a prank. It’s Uber & Leet. It’s Uber & Leet!

    Blue eyes lit up with barely-repressed glee as Greg forced himself not to let out a happy squeal. As a long-time watcher of their web show and periodical editor of their PHO wiki page, Greg was naturally a huge fan of the gaming and pop-culture themed cape duo. Oh my God, this is the best day ever!

    After taking several excited breaths, Greg managed to calm himself down, eyes lowering somewhat as his mouth curled upwards into a self-congratulatory grin. “Okay, come on out, guys!” Greg shouted out. "Joke’s over! Love the idea, by the way.”

    “Greg, sweetheart, who are you talking to?”

    Greg snapped back to reality, suddenly aware that this might not be a prank at all and that his mom was still in the kitchen, sitting right in front of him.

    “...Uhh, nothing, Mom. Just practicing for Drama club.”

    “Wait,” His mother frowned slightly, a few strands of blonde hair falling into her face as she cocked her head to the side to fix him with a curious stare. “You’re in Drama?”

    “...no.”

    Blue eyes narrowed suspiciously, pinning him to his seat.

    "I-I mean, no... Wait, Drama, yes! I m-meant, yes! Yes!" Greg mentally slapped himself as he finished stumbling through the sentence, his mom’s expression already flashing between confused, annoyed and suspicious. The worst combination.

    Raising his arms in a weak shrug, he gave his mom a sheepish expression and tried again. "...no?"

    “Greg Lucas Veder," his mom paused, her eyes still pinning him to his seat with the glare all moms seemed to perfect, "what have I said about lies in this house?”

    “Aww, M-mom, it’s not…” his voice was already cracking as he tried to explain away the weirdness of the last thirty seconds.

    “I swear to God, Gregory,” Mom didn’t let him finish, finger raised and pointing right in his nose. “If you lie again, no games for a week.”

    Greg sunk down in his seat, a groan on his lips.

    Crap on a cracker.
     
  2. Threadmarks: Tutorial 1.2
    ZFighter18

    ZFighter18 Getting sticky.

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    Tutorial 1.2

    – o – o – o – o – o – o – o –​

    He had avoided a grounding.

    How?

    Greg really wasn’t sure, to be honest.

    He would like to say that it was most likely his well-reasoned arguments about how being punished for a little white lie was cruel and unusual. It was nice to think that his logical points had spoken to his mother and gotten her to realize how unfair she was being.

    However, it was most likely due to the fact that his mother didn’t like to see him cry.

    Not that he did.

    Cry, that is.

    No, Greg Veder does not cry.

    He begs.

    – o – o – o – o – o – o – o –​

    “Please, mommy, don’t take my games.”

    “Greg…”

    “I’m sorry for fibbing. It was a joke. Pleeeeease.”

    “Greg.”

    “Mom, it’s not fair. You can’t do this. I wasn’t lying. I was just joking around, Mom.”

    “Gre-”

    Pleeeeeeeeeease.”

    “Gregory!”

    As she barked his name, Greg flinched and relaxed his grip on his mom’s mid-section, pulling back from the one-sided hug. As he stepped away from his mother, he gave her his best smile, the visual spoiled by the wetness all over his face. “Yeah, mom?”

    Susan Veder let out a deep sigh, the sound coming from a place of deep frustration. A hand went down to her scrubs to brush off some imaginary dirt before she raised her head again to fix Greg with a tired stare. “Just keep your games, Greg.”

    Greg lit up, his downtrodden expression replaced with a bright grin in an instant. “Thanks, mom!”

    Greg moved in for another hug, only for his mom to stop his forward movement with a palm to his forehead. “Greg, just...." Susan let out another sigh.

    "Enough with the hugs, sweetie. Just... go do something. I’ll see you when I get home.”

    – o – o – o – o – o – o – o –​

    Ugh, that was close.

    Greg let out a heavy sigh as he collapsed backwards onto his computer chair, the old thing creaking slightly as he dropped all one hundred and thirty-five pounds of himself onto it. Almost got grounded ‘cause I couldn’t keep my mouth shut.

    That’s nothing new, though. Greg scrunched up his face as he thought back to all the times his mouth had gotten him in hot water. At least, I got out of it this time. He paused, leaning back in his chair as his face turned down into a frown. Still, this one wasn’t even my fault.

    Greg spun around in his chair, turning to face his unmade bed as he dropped his chin to rest it on a raised palm. “And I still don’t even know what the frick that screen thingy was. Seriously, what was that thing?”

    Another one.

    Greg leaned forward in his chair, his jaw slowly falling open as he read this new pop-up. Neurons fired off in his head as realization slowly dawned on him as to what this could be. Swallowing a mouthful of nothing, Greg let out a slow, shaky breath. “H-h-ho my God.”

    Does this mean what I think it means? As carefully as he could, Greg raised a finger to poke the blue screen, the sensation feeling somewhat like a thin plastic film on his finger before it vanished a moment later. I think this means what I think it means.

    Greg let out another uncertain breath, picking himself up from his seat slowly. His eyes were wary, but even then, he couldn’t suppress the eagerness that he was radiating. I swear to God, if I find out this is a prank, someone is going to die.

    Shaking in raw excitement, Greg Veder let himself say the word.

    “Menu.”

    Greg rapidly inhaled as a screen popped into existence right in front of him, the words in front of him sending a feeling of raw excitement through him.


    “Holy...”

    “...crap on a cracker.”


    Jaw still hanging open, Greg raised a hand to rub at his eyes to make sure he was actually seeing this. “Please don’t be a prank. Please, don’t.” The whispered words were both eager and desperate, Greg’s blue eyes widening as he read each of the words in turn.


    “St… stats,” Greg muttered, voice suddenly dry.

    “...uh-huh.” Greg blinked.

    After a moment, Greg blinked again, his head moving backwards slowly before dropping back down to stare at his hands. "...uh-huh."

    Without even looking behind him, he sat back down in his chair with uncharacteristic listlessness, the blue stat screen moving along with him. Thoughts and ideas rushed through his mind, each and every one of them related to the revelation that he had just experienced.

    After a few long moments, Greg glanced back up to stare directly into the screen again. As he tilted his head, a gleam of excitement was visible in his eye and his mouth flashed into a grin.

    “God exists and he’s a huge nerd.”
     
    MimeofDeath, Wolfant, alpha5 and 9 others like this.
  3. Threadmarks: Tutorial 1.3
    ZFighter18

    ZFighter18 Getting sticky.

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    Tutorial 1.3

    – o – o – o – o – o – o – o –
    Still running off the high that finding out he had powers had left him with, Greg continued to pore over his stat screen, interested in learning everything he could.



    “I mean,” Greg began, raising an eyebrow as he reread his stats for the fourth time, “I know I’m only level two but what kind of stats are these? I mean, my HP looks like it’s… decent, I guess.”

    80 for a level 2, though? Talk about an arbitrary number. Why not start off with 100 HP at level 1? Whoever designed this needs to go back to the drawing board?

    “Wait,” Greg blinked, raising a finger to his chin. “It’s my power, right? So… did my unconscious design this?" He mulled the thought over for a bit before shaking his head.

    "Ughh, that’s just weird.” Greg shuddered, “I really don’t want to think about that. ”

    Stepping back from the screen, Greg turned his gaze down to his left hand. “Let’s just test this HP thing out.” Letting out a quick breath, he curled his fingers into a tight fist.

    Before he could chicken out, Greg drove his fist into the side of his face as hard as he could. A starburst of pain erupted in his left cheek, right above his jawline. “Motherf-! ...huh.” As quickly as the pain appeared, it vanished, leaving Greg cradling his jaw for no reason.

    “Cool! No pain… less pain?” He shrugged. “Still cool. Uhhh... sta- wait, do I have to say stats every time? Can I just say [HP]?”

    In response to his words, a smaller screen appeared.



    “W-wait? Two damage from one punch?” Greg whined, poking at his fist as if seeing it for the first time. He glanced at the mirror, marvelling open-mouthed at the fact that he didn’t even have a bruise marking his face. Not even a hint of soreness or tenderness on his face, either. “That’s super weak… right?”

    In a small blink of blue, the HP screen vanished to be replaced with a larger, wider one.



    “I can make skills?” Greg froze, eyes going wide as he began to process this new bit of info.

    “Oh, I’m sooooo going to abuse the crap out of this,” Greg added, his head bobbing up and down excitedly.



    “You know, I swear these game powers are making it way too easy. I might not even have to bother min-maxing.” After a moment, Greg burst out laughing, clutching a hand to his stomach at his own joke. “Yeah, right. OP-ness, here I come! But first, let’s get back to that stat screen again. [Stats.]

    Greg Lucas Veder

    Student

    Level 2

    XP: 0/500

    Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)

    HP: 79/80

    MP: 50/50

    Will: 30

    STR: 2

    SPD: 3

    VIT: 2

    INT: 6

    WIS: 1 (-4)

    CHA: 1 (+9)(-9)

    Unspent Points: 2


    Ctd…


    Greg’s eyes fell all the way to the bottom, towards something he hadn’t paid much attention to before, with his attention too focused on his - stupidly low - numbers and what they meant. “The frick is this stat? C. T. D? Cat D. Ketid? And why is there an ellipsis there?”

    “C. T. D? CTD?” Greg blinked for a moment and leaned in, to get a closer glance at the box. Sighing, he brought a palm to his forehead. “I’m so stupid. Continued.”

    Poking the shortened word, Greg blinked again as a new box took the old one’s place.

    “...crap on a cracker.”



    Greg stared at the newest screen in front of him, his mouth turned downwards into an impressive frown. His hand came down on the blue box with an open palm, literally slapping the screen away. As it vanished, Greg let out an angry sigh, turning a pissed-off gaze towards his computer.

    “...okay. Now, I’m mad for multiple reasons.”
     
  4. Threadmarks: Tutorial 1.4
    ZFighter18

    ZFighter18 Getting sticky.

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    Tutorial 1.4

    – o – o – o – o – o – o – o –
    Greg fell face-forward, his body hitting the ground in a heap of pale skin and lanky limbs.

    "...ow."

    As he lay there, lying face-first in the untrimmed grass of his backyard, Greg began to ruminate over everything he had learned over the last three hours.

    First, he could earn stat points through actual training. He had learned that after punching a tree who knew how many times in row trying to create some sort of super punching skill. It maybe also have been a way to work out his anger after seeing those crap-tastic Stat Modifiers.

    Just maybe.

    Either way, he was willing to grind to kickstart his path to greatness. Any true gamer would, of course.

    Anyway, after about three hours of strenuous effort, all he had to show for it was twenty-five lost health points, seven levels on [Blunt Force Resistance] and 1 brand-spanking new VIT point.

    Secondly, each new VIT point made his HP go up by 10 and his Will go up by 3. Greg could only imagine the same thing applied for his MP. So, either INT or WIS controlled that, most likely.

    Thirdly, just because actual pain went away really quick, it didn't mean he couldn't get tired. Apparently, one of his stats, Will, measured his level of tiredness or something. Right now, that was sitting at a big fat zero.

    It took almost ten minutes for his Will to regenerate all the way back to full, which sucked so hard. For Greg, that basically meant ten minutes of sitting around and waiting until his entire body didn't feel like crap.

    Last but certainly not least, skills were super-duper hard to make.

    Like, harder than the first boss of Ninja Gaiden hard.

    Greg lifted his head and let out another small moan, pausing at the end to announce, "[Skills.]"



    "Who designed this RPG system?" Greg moaned, still face-down in grass. "It couldn't be me because my subconscious cannot be this much of a butthole!"

    Scratch that. This was harder than a level of Demon's Souls.

    Why, you ask? Why did Greg think that making a skill was so impossibly frustrating?

    It was because after three hours of effort, - three long, painful hours - Greg had managed to managed to make two new skills. The [Observe] skill and the [Power Sprint] skill, both created in the first few minutes.

    Apparently, looking at a bug and wondering what it's species was enough for this stupid system to fart out a skill. Running away in fright when that same bug tried to hop onto his face was worth a skill, too, for some odd reason.

    However, working his butt off for a couple hours was not skill-worthy!

    Greg groaned again, his voice gaining more energy as the drain on his muscles began to lessen. Greg let out a relieved sigh, his recovery a sign that at least one of his stats was recovering. "[Will]."



    "Three minutes down here and we're still at 15. That's some crap regen," Greg muttered. "The frick is will, anyway? Ughhh," Greg spat out blades of grass from his mouth as he lifted his head, pushing himself off from the ground. "What kind of system is this?"

    He had tried to make telekinesis. For ten long, embarrassing minutes, Greg had held a hand to his head like Professor X while his other limb made gestures at a tiny rock. All for nothing.

    He had tried to use energy blasts. Nada.

    Super-speed. Nope.

    Even a skill to do something as simple as jump higher hadn't worked, leaving him doing jumping jacks for a good twenty minutes like an idiot.

    None of them worked, despite what he tried and it was getting on his fricking nerves. Why would his powers make him an RPG character if there was no way for him to actually achieve unlimited power?

    Pulling himself to his feet, Greg focused his eyes on the tree he had spent the last hour pummeling. This isn't fair.

    Stepping closer to it, he brought his fists up again. This is not fair. Why won't this work? What do I have to do?

    His face began to redden as Greg worked himself into a mood, angry thoughts bouncing around his head. "Why won't you work?"

    Running forward, Greg threw a cross, slamming his fist into the thick tree with all his might. To his surprise, his fist glowed yellow as it struck the tree like a hammer. His eyes grew wider as slivers of bark basically exploded from the point of impact, flying back into his face as nothing more than wood chips.



    Greg gaped at his unhurt fist, before turning back to face the tree. Blue eyes went back and forth between the damaged tree and his hand several times before the blond boy threw both of his hands in the air, letting out a frustrated scream as he did so. "What!? How!?"

    When no floating box appeared to explain this phenomenon to Greg, the teenager let out another frustrated groan. "Why did it work this time? This system sucks!"

    Then, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose. When he opened them, he sent a frown at his fist. "At least I got one combat skill, right?" After a moment, Greg nodded slightly, happy that he had gotten at least one thing right. "Although, I don't really want to risk getting up close to bad guys that much."



    "What the heck?" Greg's blue eyes widened as he took a step back in pure shock. "I'm only level 3. I can't fight criminals yet." Greg let out a groan, his hands clutching his hair in frustration. "It's like this system hates me or something!"

    After coming to an important realization, your WIS has increased by 1.

    "...oh, haha."


    – o – o – o – o – o – o – o –​

    Greg Lucas Veder

    Student

    Level 3

    XP: 100/1800

    Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)

    HP: 100/100

    MP: 60/60

    Will: 36/36

    STR: 2

    SPD: 3

    VIT: 3

    INT: 6

    WIS: 1 (-5)

    CHA: 1 (+9)(-9)

    Unspent Points: 4


    Stat Modifiers

    Nerd-Geek Hybrid: Your obsession with video gaming, computers, fantasy/sci-fi literature and 80’s/90’s pop culture has left you in the rare middle of two circles; the obsessive fandom-loving geek and the intelligent, knowledge seeking nerd. Sadly, your hobbies have left you with an aversion to physical exertion. (50% bonus to INT gains, -50% penalty to STR, SPD & VIT gains.)

    Ambiguous Disorder: Ever since you were a little kid, you’ve always been a little bit off. Impulsive, obsessive, socially obtuse and emotionally needy, you’re a bit of a weirdo. It was easily written off as normal behavior when you were younger but now you’re fifteen. Yet, you still come off as someone over five years younger. Maybe Mom should have had you tested like Dad said? (-80% reduction to overall WIS, 90% reduction to overall CHA.)

    Casanova Bloodline: As a Veder man, you have a great smile, natural charm and a confident approach to life that draws the ladies in like a moth to a flame. Your great cheekbones don’t hurt either. It’s how your dad got your mom to go out with him while dating at least three other girls and sleeping with two others, at least that’s what he always told you - even when you didn’t ask - all the time. (+ 5 CHA, 50% bonus to CHA)
     
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  5. Threadmarks: Tutorial 1.5
    ZFighter18

    ZFighter18 Getting sticky.

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    Tutorial 1.5


    – o – o – o – o – o – o – o –​

    "Huh, let's try this one out. [Observe]."



    Greg let out an annoyed groan, shoulders slumping as he tossed the pair of shoes over his shoulder without even looking. It landed with a clattering noise on the other side of the garage, landing near a pile of other rejected items.

    "Okay, that was another bust," Greg muttered, running a hand through his bowl cut. It had been a while since he left the backyard. Slamming his fists against the tree had started getting boring after the leveling of his [Angry Straight] began moving at a crawl. Gaining three extra levels wasn't bad, though. The constant notification in the corner of his vision of his HP dropping every time he forgot to say the skill name did start to get annoying, though.

    Anyway, Greg had been in his current position for a good thirty minutes, on his knees in the garage searching through storage boxes for some useful stuff to equip. After making up his mind to go on a mob hunt, Greg had decided to find something to give him an edge. After all, if he was an RPG character, he needed battle equipment, right?

    You'd think so, at least.

    All of this is random crap. Boosts to ballroom dancing? Hockey? Swimming? It was a little annoying that after all of this work, he had barely found anything useful, with only three items giving him any sort of combat-related boost. Greg needed some more clothes that would give him something combat related because he had no intention of using up his extra stat points until he was at least level five, with at least eight points in reserve. I want to fight some guy, not beat him in a dance-off or a triathlon.

    Shaking his head, Greg turned his attention back to the massive set of boxes in front of him with various words written on the side of each. "Why did Mom even buy this stuff? I never even got into any of these clubs."

    Rolling his eyes, he thrust a hand into the box closest to him, his other hand pushing random items to the side as he continued to search the storage container. He let out a sigh as more miscellaneous items spilling out as he did so. "And Mom told me she organized all this last month. How am I supposed to find anything when she doesn't clean up?"

    Greg continued rooting around in the box, barely noting the various items he pulled out. "Huh, what's this... ewwww?"

    Hanging from his fingers like a used napkin were a pair of purple leg warmers, obviously not brand new. Greg grimaced at the items for a few seconds before his curiosity got the better of him. "Uhhh… [Observe.]"



    Greg stuck his tongue out as he finished reading the box, dropping the pair of used leg warmers with a disgusted shudder as his mind went wrong places with the [Flexibility] skill and his mother. "...I'm never sleeping again."

    Forcing down the bit of bile he could feel creeping up his throat, Greg turned back to his search, albeit with much less enthusiasm than before. After a few minutes more, he grinned as his fingers grabbed hold of two very familiar items. Pulling them out with a victorious grin, Greg let out a self-satisfied chuckle. "Observe."


    "Awesome!' Greg let out an excited cheer, finally finding something useful to add to the rest of his equipment, as well as the two ready-made skills that came with it. "Man, it's been a long time since I wore these bad boys. Better late than never. [Equip.]"

    The black gloves and shoes vanished in a blink of blue light and appeared on Greg's body, his current shoes disappearing off his feet in place of the kickboxing shoes.

    "Whoa, this is awe- uggggghh," Greg raised a gloved hand to his forehead as a sudden burst of information suddenly rushed into his head. Information like how to make a proper fist, how to throw a correct cross, how to move quickly on his feet, etc.

    He shook his head, blinking rapidly.

    "That was just plain weird," Greg mused to himself as he shook his head, trying to regain his bearings.

    The sensation hadn't hurt, not really. It had just been uncomfortable and… weird. It was basically the mental equivalent of getting slapped in the face with a fish.

    "At least, I got some new skills," Greg crowed, a smile on his face. Curling his hands into fists, Greg struck a karate pose to test out his new knowledge, his body instinctively correcting his positioning and foot placement to something much more plausible to use in a fight.

    Greg's smile faded a little at the sudden shift in his body, weirded out by how he hadn't really meant to move that way. "Huh… that's really gonna take some getting used to."

    Glancing down at his new equipment, Greg shrugged off the weirdness, deciding on a whim to try out a new trick he had discovered about half an hour ago. "[Send to Inventory.]"

    His newly equipped-items vanished in another tiny flash of blue, leaving his feet and hands bare. As soon as the items vanished, Greg shook his head again, suddenly feeling somewhat more awkward in his own body. He moved into a fighting stance again and frowned as he felt a bit less steady on his feet this time, his fists a bit less firm. Greg frowned, pursing his lips. "...weird. [Inventory!]"

    Two separate boxes appeared in front of Greg, one with a somewhat three-dimensional image of him with his arms and legs spread out like that Leonardo da Vinci sketch.

    The Vesuvian man? Greg shrugged, not really caring that much. Yeah, something like that.

    The second box was a simple grid with five of the boxes already filled up. "Looking good, me." Greg snapped his fingers at the image of himself that simply stared forward blankly.

    Shaking his head again, Greg pulled himself to his feet, a slight smile on his face. "Okay, just gotta take care of one more thing before it's time to go kick some butt."

    His eyes roamed the garage until they landed on what he was looking for. Grimacing, he let out a sigh. "Let's go get this over with."


    - o - o- o – o – o – o – o -​


    "Ow!"

    -5 hp

    "...ow!"

    -5 hp

    "...ow!"

    -7 hp

    "...shi-ow!"

    -5 hp

    "...ow!"

    -9 hp

    "...shit! Shit! Shit! Ow!"

    Hissing in pain, Greg waited for the throbbing sensation to dissipate one more time before he raised the object in his hand high. His other hand remained where it was, splayed out flat as it rested on top of the garage workbench.

    A part of Greg felt like this wasn't worth it.

    The other part didn't care.

    Winding back his arm, Greg Veder literally brought the hammer down, the head slamming into his wrist with all the force he could muster.

    -12 hp [Critical Hit!]

    "Motherf-! Goddamn it!" Cradling his wrist, Greg held back tears, waiting for the pain in his hand to fade. Eyes closed, Greg began to groan as he rocked back and forth on the stool he was sitting on, insulting himself in his head for this stupid idea. He was so caught up in cursing his own dumb idea, he barely heard a soft 'ping!'

    In fact, he didn't hear it until it repeated a second time.

    Greg opened his eyes, all his pain forgotten as a bright grin spread across his face.

    Through enduring physical punishment, your VIT has increased by 1.

    "Worth it."



    - o - o- o – o – o – o – o -​



    Greg Lucas Veder

    Student

    Level 3

    XP: 100/1800

    Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)

    HP: 110/110

    MP: 60/60

    Will: 39

    STR: 2

    SPD: 3

    VIT: 4

    INT: 6

    WIS: 1 (-5)

    CHA: 1 (+9)(-9)

    Unspent Points: 4
     
  6. Threadmarks: Tutorial 1.6
    ZFighter18

    ZFighter18 Getting sticky.

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    Tutorial 1.6


    – o – o – o – o – o – o – o –​

    "Hey, Fingers, you seeing this?"

    Dexter "Fingers" Clark glanced up from where he sat, slumped against an alley wall, and looked in the direction his friend, Knives, was gesturing in.

    The sight was enough to make him raise an eyebrow.

    Fingers had seen his fair share of odd-looking figures. It kind of came standard once you became a Merchant. You saw weird shit all the time. Sometimes, it was cape shit. Capes were always a little bit off.

    Everyone knew that.

    Sometimes, it was just regular people being weird as fuck.

    In this case, it seemed more like the second.

    As Fingers spotted the person walking towards them, he was already suspicious. This side of the Trainyard belonged to a few specific types of individual. Namely, the homeless, drug addicts and gang members. Unsurprisingly, members of the Archer's Bridge Merchants were usually all three.

    It was well understood that people in this part of Brockton Bay had certain common identifiers. No one that clean and in clothes that new was in this part of town because they belonged here, no matter how weird they looked.

    Fingers snorted. "Yeah, I'm seeing this. It ain't just you."

    "Whaddya think it wants?"

    "It's a he, Knives."

    "The fuck I care? I want his hoodie." Knives punctuated his sentence by spitting up a thick wad of phlegm right at Fingers' feet, causing the larger man to send his partner a dirty look. "And his pants too."

    "I mean, he doesn't look like your size," Fingers muttered, pulling himself to his feet. "Probably outweighs you too."

    "You think I wanna wear that GAP-looking shit?" Knives shot back, baring stained and dirty teeth in an annoyed grimace.

    Fingers snorted at Knives attempt to look threatening, fixing the black man with a glare of his own. "You got on a ratty-ass wife-beater that stinks like shit. those jeans are dirty as fuck and your shoes are torn all to hell. You need clothes more than I do."

    It wasn't even an exaggeration. What they both had on, ratty and stained as it was, was par for the course when it came to most of the Merchants. Oversized, or undersized, stained or mismatched, it didn't really matter. They wore what they could.

    "Who the fuck asked your horse-looking ass?" The tiny man raised a hand to scratch at his patchy beard, clearing his throat roughly as he did so. "Fuck it, I say we find out what this fuck wants, then we jump his ass, take his wallet and sell the rest of his shit."

    Fingers shrugged, uncaring.

    "Sure, why not?" It's not like he was the type to turn down a chance to make money.

    The bundled-up figure walked closer to the two Merchants, allowing Fingers to get a good look at him. With him wearing a hoodie, a pair of goggles, and a scarf over his face, not to mention the odd gloves, shoes and sports pads he had on, it was hard to tell what the person actually looked like. For a moment, Fingers was wary. The thought that this could be some new cape looking to pick a fight flashed through his mind and his fingers clenched into a fist.

    *...uh, Hey."

    With dawning surprise, Fingers realized that the figure huddled up in these clothes was a kid.

    Then, the kid spoke again.

    "Uhhh… um, do…" Fingers raised an eyebrow at the cracking voice, expression growing more incredulous as he saw the kid's hands tapping at his sides in a nervous tic. "Do… do you guys know where I can… uhh… get some… uhhh… get some... some drugs?"

    The last word came out in a conspiratorial whisper, the boy leaning in slightly as if anyone in the Trainyards would bother listening in.

    Fingers snorted again, turning his head down to laugh into the back of his hand. "Fuckin' first-timers, man," the gang member muttered to himself, wiping his nose with wrist.

    The tattooed man shot a glance over at Knives, raising an eyebrow at the way the tattooed man eyed the boy in front of them. He could tell his friend was getting ready to pounce, just by the way his thin fingers trailed over his switchblade as if petting a small animal. Putting a hand on his partner's shoulder to get his attention, he jerked his thumb over his shoulder, giving Knives a signal to hang back while he did business.

    Knives shot him a dark look, his eyes flicking back to the kid for a second, before finally nodding and turning the corner, stepping deeper into the alley.

    Shaking his head, Fingers turned back to the kid, flashing the twitchy-looking brat his nicest smile before he got it in his head to run away. He leaned forward, still smiling as warmly as he could. "So, kid, what are you loo-"

    "[Angry Straight!]"

    Before Fingers could finish the sentence, a gloved fist slammed into his stomach.


    – o – o – o – o – o – o – o –​


    Dexter "Fingers" Clark

    Lv 4 Merchant Gofer (Junkie)

    HP: 90/120


    Greg blinked in surprise as he watched the gangster's HP fall. 30 points! Awesome!

    After equipping a thick hoodie that granted him an extra ten HP, a pair of sports goggles that unlocked his [Reflexes] ability, and a scarf that gave him +2 to [Feinting], all in addition to his kickboxing equipment, he had decided to go hunting for a bad guy to punch.

    Setting out towards the Trainyards was a great idea for anyone looking to get into trouble and a perfect place to beat up some gang members. Once the system has confirmed his great idea by granting him a free WIS point, Greg was dead set on heading down there.

    Setting out to the Trainyards around three o'clock in the afternoon was less of a great idea, considering Merchants tended to be nocturnal creatures. Despite all that, after walking around the Trainyards for a bit, it didn't take Greg all that long to find a couple of them.

    After confirming with his [Observe] that these were actually Merchants, and not just two guys down on their luck, Greg struck.

    Specifically, with his [Angry Straight].

    The man stumbled back, a look of pained shock on his face as he clutched his stomach. Greg brought his fists up, ready to react if he moved at him. Yeesh, I thought that would at least knock him down!

    The taller, lankier man didn't fall, instead collapsing back against a wall with an audible groan.

    His friend, the smaller man barely up to Greg's shoulder, rushed out of the alley. His eyes flickered to his fallen partner before those same twitchy, bloodshot eyes darted over to Greg. In a burst of motion, he lashed out, a visible glint in his right hand.

    Greg recoiled in pain, hissing as he felt something slash the arm of his hoodie. Despite the heavy blend hoodie supposedly granting him +10 to health, that extra ten points didn't seem all that useful right now. He bit down another shout as the man lunged forward again, the blade jabbing him in the stomach.

    -8 hp

    -12 hp




    Greg's eyes widened as he felt the familiar warm, sticky sensation of blood as it hit his skin. The teen scrambled backwards, screaming out "Power Sprint!" at the top of his lungs. In a burst of yellow, he ran back a few meters, surprising the short man in front of him with both the surge of speed and the flash of light.

    "Knives" Freeman

    Lv 6 Merchant Slasher (Junkie)

    HP: 170/170


    Crap! Crap! Crap! Greg's face paled. I don't have enough Will to Angry Strike them both to zero.

    "You little shit! Fuck you think this is?" Knives rushed forward again, cursing up a storm as he bared his rotten teeth at Greg. "I'll fucking cut you! I'll rip your fucking guts out!"

    Greg dodged the first lunge, but let out a small shout as the second managed to scrape his side.

    -5 hp

    His breathing coming rapid and quick, Greg jumped back and shouted out "[Inventory: Hammer!]"

    Said hammer flew from Greg's hand, appearing out of nowhere, straight toward the head of the Merchant. Simply out of raw luck, the man dodged, his head whipping to the side as the heavy tool rushed by his unprotected cranium. Greg winced as his attack missed. Crap on a cracker. I mean, I didn't think that would even work but still… crap. Why did I only bring one?

    The gangster whipped back to Greg, surprise and a hint of fear mixing in with his anger. "What the fuck? The fuck is this shit?"

    Greg didn't waste a single moment to even glance at the pop-ups. "[Power Sprint!] [Angry Straight!]"

    His body and fist glowing a bright yellow, Greg rushed forward. Enhanced by his momentum, his hand plowed into the man's chest, knocking him back with a powerful blow.

    "Knives" Freeman

    HP: 120/170


    Knives bared his teeth and grunted as the hit rocked him, the tiny man powering through the strike with a rabid fury. With a snarl, he lunged forward again, swinging wildly at Greg with his switchblade.

    Greg's wrist snapped up, the back of his hand catching the underside of the gangster's wrist and striking it downwards. The black man's eyes widened as his knife fell from his grip and clattered down the street.

    Breathing heavily, Greg didn't let up, driving his fist into the man's face and doing the same with his other before screaming out, "[Angry Straight!] [Angry Straight!] [Angry Straight!]" His fist glowed as he continued striking the man, interspersing regular hits in between his uses of [Angry Straight] and pummeling the man with a blistering six-hit combo. A heavy sensation began to crawl up Greg's muscles and his eyes widened.

    Stepping back from the gangster, Greg shouted out "[Power Sprint!] [Inventory: Gatorade!]" As he ran a few feet away, a bottle of the flavored water appeared in his hand. Twisting off the gap, Greg gulped the drink down, not even bothering to avoid spilling any on his clothes.





    Greg let out an audible sigh as he literally felt the energy returning to his muscles, a big burst of energy followed by smaller trickles.

    "What the hell?" The unarmed criminal barked out, eyes wide with confusion at what just happened.

    "Forget you saw that! [Angry Straight!]" Greg struck out with a wild swing, plunging his fist into the man's stomach with a yell.

    "Knives" Freeman (K.O.)

    HP: 0/160




    Greg blinked, his breathing still heavy as he stared at the fallen thug. The tiny man lay slumped on the ground, bruising already visible on his face.. "Is he done?" Greg voiced aloud, while in his head, he couldn't help but wonder, Is he dead?

    Tentatively, he stretched his foot out, poking the Merchant with the tip of his toe. As Greg's foot touched the man's side, he let out a groan, the sound nearly causing Greg to jump out of his skin.

    The teenager held his breath. 1… 2… 3…

    The Merchant didn't move.

    "Yes!" Greg's hands went up in the air, his fingers on both hands forming into a "v". "I beat my first bad guy! Operation: Unlimited Power is a go!" With a relieved sigh, the teenager glanced back down at the unconscious thug, simply giving a shrug at the sight. Someone'll find him. It's not like he's dead or anything.

    As he turned around to head back home, Greg suddenly stopped after brealized that he hadn't received either a quest notification or a level up notification. But I beat the b-

    Something slammed into him from behind, hard and heavy. Greg stumbled forward and fell to his hands and knees, his head feeling like someone had taken a bat to it.

    -30 hp

    Greg coughed and sputtered as his hands and knees hit the ground, rolling to the side on instinct. To his right, a hammer hit the ground, cracking the concrete as the curved end hit the building material. My hammer?

    Shocked, Greg scrambled back on his hands and knees, glancing up to see the person holding the hammer.

    Dexter "Fingers" Clark

    Lv 4 Merchant Gofer (Junkie)

    HP: 91/120


    The guy I hit before? How'd he get my hammer? Greg thought, confusion visible on his face. A moment later, he remembered what he had used it for. "Oh… oh yeah, that was a dumb idea."

    Fingers stared at him with manic eyes, more tired than bloodshot, and raised the hammer again.

    Greg acted without thinking and jumped forwards, pouncing on the merchant. His hand snapped out, grabbing the junkie's emaciated wrist and squeezing as tightly as he could.

    "Sorry, but this… this is mine." With a twist, he wrenched the hammer from the junkie, slamming an elbow into the man's throat at the same time, his legs straddling the man's torso. "You shouldn't steal!"

    "Taking people's stuff is wrong!" Greg brought the hammer down.

    The thug jerked, lunging at Greg with a curse on his lips.

    Greg did it again.

    And again.

    And again.

    And again.

    Breathing heavy as the junkie lay still beneath him, Greg let out a relieved sigh. "At least that's finally over."



    "Niiice." Smiling widely as he stood up, Greg wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead with his free hand. Tossing the hammer up into the air, he caught it again, noting with slight interest how much easier that was to pull off than when he tried it at home.

    Shaking his head, he intoned, "[Send to Inventory.]" The hammer vanished, leaving both of Greg's hands free and allowing him to wipe his blood-covered hands on his black jeans. "Uggh, is this mine or theirs?"

    Glancing back at the two fallen thugs, Greg couldn't hide the smile on his face. He had done this, all by himself. Taking down two grown men in about five minutes wasn't something a lot of kids his age could say. Unless you're the Wards, Greg admitted to himself. Those guys can probably say that all the time.

    "This win kinda feels empty, ya know? You know what this moment needs?" Greg nodded to himself as he began to walk back the way he came from. "Some victory music. Not like theme music, more like a BGM to play after I win a fight or something. Don't I have an options menu to set that in or something?"

    Greg mulled over it, his head already nodding along to the victory music he had chosen in his head. "Eh, I'll check when I get home."

    Leaving behind two bleeding and unconscious bodies unattended in the worst part of town, Greg Veder began to make his way home with a smile on his face and a song in his heart.


    – o – o – o – o – o – o – o –​


    Greg Lucas Veder

    Student

    Level 4

    XP: 50/3600

    Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)

    HP: 130/130

    MP: 70/70

    Will: 45

    STR: 3

    SPD: 3

    VIT: 4

    INT: 6

    WIS: 1 (-6)

    CHA: 1 (+9) (-9)

    Unspent Points: 7

    Cash: $31.50
     
  7. BrokenAscendent

    BrokenAscendent Filthy Heretic

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    I like it.

    Depreciating humor is great.

    Now lets beat ourselves up more so we are unstoppable!
     
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  8. Oniele

    Oniele Not too sore, are you?

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    Let's stab ourselves so Hookwolf doesn't turn us into mincemeat!
     
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  9. Biigoh

    Biigoh Nothing but Innocent Fluff Moderator

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    ....

    Oh Greg...
     
    ZFighter18 likes this.
  10. Threadmarks: Grind 2.1
    ZFighter18

    ZFighter18 Getting sticky.

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    Grind 2.1

    – o – o – o – o – o – o – o –
    "[Observe.]"

    Repressing a snort, Greg turned his head slightly, locking his gaze on the girl a few seats across from Micah. "[Observe.]"

    His head lolled as he rested his chin on an upraised palm, glancing away from the busty bitch of a cheerleader before she noticed him staring. That was a situation that he didn't want to have to deal with again. His head turned listlessly to the side and locked on another girl.

    Ever since his little outing yesterday afternoon, Greg had gotten only one more quest and that one almost wasn't worth it. Only getting 75 XP for cleaning up the mess he made in the garage was kind of a letdown, but Greg didn't let it bother him too much. Instead, he decided to spend the rest of the day grinding his stats, to mild success.

    However, that was when he was at home.

    At school, he couldn't exactly do pushups until his body gave out to level STR (+2) and neither could he slam a pan into his face over and over to bulk up his VIT (+1). In class, there was nothing for Greg to really do as he sat here, especially considering Sparky had been suspended since last week.

    So, Greg simply sat there with nothing to do, barely listening to the teacher as she went over something related to the chapters of some book they were supposed to have read over the weekend.

    Nothing to do, except power-level his [Observe] skill, of course.

    Greg raised an eyebrow at that description but didn't pay it much thought, turning aside to someone else. "[Observe.]"

    "[Observe.]"

    Greg held back a snort. "[Observe.]"

    Greg blinked, his head tilting as his gaze tilted downwards towards Andy's waist. A moment later, he shook his head, shuddering. I really didn't need to know that.

    Nodding at the screen's message, Greg glanced towards the back of the room, eyes glazing over as he spotted a familiar head of beautiful, brown hair. An earnest smile immediately leapt onto his face as she lifted her head and caught his eye, the same smile dimming slightly when she simply stared past him like he didn't exist.

    Greg sighed slightly, before shrugging his shoulders at the usual behavior from her. "[Observe.]"

    Wait, what? Greg did a double-take, not at Taylor's… interesting description, but at the fact that her level and class were hidden behind a wall of question marks. The question marks themselves were doing a great job at drawing his attention away from the super embarrassing color commentary his [Observe] had given him. Where's her stats? I've never seen anyone have question marks before.

    "Weird." Greg pursed his face. Maybe I need to level up [Observe] more?

    "Mr Veder!"

    Greg flinched, jerking back to attention at the sudden shout of his name. Glancing up, he spotted his English teacher glaring at him over her glasses.

    "Uh…" Greg froze as he realized that the whole class, sans Taylor, was staring at him, most of them with mocking smiles on their own faces.

    "Uhhh… yes, Ms Gherry?" Greg gulped as the look on her face seemed to tighten. Ms Gherry was apparently in one of her moods. Most of the time the woman was distant and barely paid attention to the class except to read from a book. On other days, she was a complete battle-axe.

    Greg guessed her anger issues stemmed from man troubles. He also doubted her ability to keep a boyfriend when she add anger issues, causing her to keep looking for another one. A vicious cycle, really.

    "I was just about to go over the homework and I noticed you were busy paying attention to something else with no assignment even on your desk." The woman folded her arms over her chest, slowly walking over to Greg where he sat at the corner of the room nearest the entrance.

    We had an assignment? Greg winced.

    When she reached the front of his desk, Greg was forced to crane his head up especially high to stare at the statuesque woman. He bit his tongue, the first words on his lips almost being, "Speak louder. I cant hear you from up there."

    "Mr Veder, I have to ask if you did the homework I assigned?"

    "The… the homework," Greg blinked, trying his hardest not to phrase it like a question. He glanced at the desks surrounding him, his heart dropping into his stomach as he realized everyone else had papers on their desk, either written or typed. "You're asking me if I did it?"

    As Ms Gherry raised an eyebrow, Greg hurriedly answered. "Of course! Of course, I did it. It's just… I left it at home." Greg spouted the lie, doing his best to sound like he believed it.

    Greg did his best not to twitch or even stare at the screen that appeared over his teacher's bust, locking his eyes directly on her face.

    "Tell me, Mr Veder." Her steely eyes narrowed, and Greg found himself tilting backwards in his seat as she leaned forwards, clasping a manicured hand around the corner of his desk. "Be honest with me. Did you even do the reading of Part 1 of the Divine Comedy? The Inferno? The same reading I assigned on Thursday?"

    Greg could hear snickers and the sound of muttering wafting throughout the class, before Ms Gherry snapped to face the other students, quieting them down with a stare.

    "What? Come on, Ms Gherry," Greg scoffed, averting his eyes for a moment. "Of course I read Dante's Divine Comedy."

    Greg knew very well that the book sat on top of his dresser, unopened since he brought it home. "I loved it. It was a great book. I just forgot the homework – that I did do – at home." You sit on a throne of lies!

    Ms Gherry seemed to relax slightly, unfolding her arms as she stared down at him.

    Greg, taking cues from her, released a breath he wasn't aware that he had been holding and let out a relieved sigh.

    "You know, I was considering giving you detention for being the only one in the class not to have completed either the reading or the assignment," Ms Gherry began. "However, since you claim to have completed the assignment and read the Inferno, I'll give you credit for both."

    Greg's jaw dropped. "Really?"

    The teacher's announcement was met with loud jeers from most of the class, the students vocally upset about an arrangement they considered unfair.

    "Quiet." Ms Gherry only had to raise her voice just slightly to shut down the noise, the iciness of her tone conveying the message well enough. "I wasn't done speaking." Turning back to Greg, she gave him a slight smile, the facial expression making Greg tense slightly. "Now, Mr Veder, I'll give you full credit for both assignments," she held up a finger, "on one condition."

    "And the penny drops," Greg muttered to himself.

    Ms Gherry's smile turned cold as she stretched her arm out, gesturing toward the front of the classroom. "The condition being that you give a short presentation – an oral report, to be exact – on everything you wrote, the summary of part one of Dante's Divine Comedy and what you felt it means. If you can't do it, then you have detention… for a week."

    Someone in the class let out a soft "Oh, damn."

    Wincing, Greg raised a finger. "D… did you say a week?"

    "A week, as in seven days. Starting today and ending next week Wednesday. But all that is just a formality, really." The teacher continued smiling coldly, her eyes showing how little she meant it. "After all, you said you did the work."

    If you're gonna screw me over that badly, you freaking Amazon, you might as well take me out to dinner first. Greg closed his eyes and let out a quick breath before opening them a moment later, flashing his Literature teacher his brightest grin. "No problem, teach. I can handle this."

    As he stood up from his desk, Greg began to plan, his mind whirring as he tried to find a way to get through this. Dante's Divine Comedy. Dante's Divine… Comedy. Why does that name sound familiar? Where do I know this from?

    As Greg faced the class, he could see out of the corner of his eye that Ms Gherry was just standing up against the wall, eyes firmly on him.

    He opened his mouth. "Hey, guys. Umm… today, I'm going to talk about Dante… Dante and his Inferno." I swear to God that name sounds familiar.

    "Dante," Greg continued, "I mean… Dante, we all know who Dante is, right?" He spread his arms out as he gestured toward his audience, receiving nothing but bored and amused faces in return.

    "Yes", interrupted Ms Gherry from her position on the wall, "yes, they do. They did the work. This is about your knowledge, Mr Veder."

    Greg laughed, his voice cracking slightly as he tried his best not to sound nervous. "Yeah, of course. I know that. Engaging with the audience is just part of a presentation, Ms Gherry."

    "Uh-huh," the teacher's smile tightened, "Engage less. You do realize, that when you get detention, I will be calling your mother."

    Wow, not if. When. God, she's not just screwing me over. She's going in dry too. "G-got it," Greg replied.

    Turning back to the class, Greg began again. "Dante's Inferno is about… is about..."

    Greg paused, familiar memories hitting him. Memories of nearly four straight days on his console playing and replaying a great game. Holy Hell, that's it! Dante's Inferno! How did I forget? I played the story mode so many times.

    Greg smiled at his classmates, mulling over what little he remembered of the game's plot for a moment.

    Then, he spoke.

    "Dante's Inferno is about a man named Dante who enters Hell through a crack in the ground. He enters Hell to go and find this girl named Beatrice, I think, who died," Greg said, shrugging.

    "Anyway, Dante really loves her 'cause she's his girlfriend or wife or something. So, the guy heads into Hell and ends up at this big river." Greg paused, holding up a hand. "Actually, before he gets to the river, he meets this dude named Virgil and then he gets past a gate or something to get to the river, I think.

    "Anyway, the river is where souls cross into actual Hell and Dante has to get across. To be honest, I didn't get why there was a lake in Hell. Bad writing, maybe. Even if there's a lake, why can't he just swim, right?" Shaking his hand, Greg continues. "Forget the swimming part. So, he goes through Hell, and basically, Hell is divided into like nine areas or, I think, circles or something? And it goes like," Greg held up nine fingers and began counting down.

    "Limbo, Lust, Gluttony, Greed, Anger… uhh, Heretics, Heresy?" Greg shrugged again, shaking his head. "And… uh, Violence, Fraud and Treachery. I also didn't really get why violence was separate from anger and greed was separate from gluttony. Why add two extra circles when you could have just had seven, am I right? Like, save yourself the time. Oh, yeah, there was also a city in Hell, which was really weird because who's gonna live there? Demons? Why would they need a city? They're demons."

    Greg couldn't help but emphasize this part as it never made sense to him in the game. "Who's the mayor of Hell? Lucifer didn't live there so it couldn't be him. Does the city have a stable economy? Do they pay taxes? I'm assuming this was kind of a type of fanfiction of the Bible but since I don't ever plan on reading the Bible, I'm gonna assume it is." Greg nodded, turning back to his teacher. "That's it. That's basically all I remember from the ga-"

    Greg's eyes widened as he caught himself from ruining his whole speech. "That's all I remember from… from what I wrote. That's all of Dante's Inferno that I can remember."

    Ms Gherry stared at him with half-lidded eyes, her smile long gone. After a few seconds of tense silence, she let out a deep sigh. "You know, Mr Veder. I'm surprised that you weren't actually lying."

    "Me? Lie?" Greg made a raspberry noise, averting his eyes again. "I'm a terrible liar."

    Ms Gherry nodded in agreement. "I know. That's why I said I was surprised. Full credit. Now get back to your seat."

    By being extremely convincing, your CHA has increased by 1.

    Through recalling long-forgotten but relevant information, your INT has increased by 1.


    Flashing his teacher and the class a shit-eating grin, Greg walked over to his seat. "Anyone wanna give me one up top for that awesome presentation I just pulled off?" Greg grinned at the three people sitting closest to him, raising a hand to be high-fived. "Andy? Janet? Madison?... No?"

    Greg shrugged. "Fine, be haters. I'll high-five myself."

    And he did.

    It felt awesome.




    AN:

    After some complaints, I have noticed that the way I display stat modifiers is somewhat confusing. After some notes from a beta reader who I consulted solely regarding the numbers involved in this fic, I will be changing the way stat modifiers are displayed in the chapter on Greg's stat list from this point on. Please look below to how that will be displayed. Also, I removed the 50% bonus to CHA and just increased it from a +5 CHA bonus to a +9 CHA bonus. Thank you.


    – o – o – o – o – o – o – o –


    Greg Lucas Veder

    Student

    Level 4

    XP: 625/3600

    Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)

    HP: 140/140

    MP: 70/70

    Will: 51

    STR: 5

    SPD: 3

    VIT: 5

    INT: 7

    WIS: 7 (-6)

    CHA: 2 (+9) (-10)

    Unspent Points: 7

    Cash: $31.50
     
  11. BrokenAscendent

    BrokenAscendent Filthy Heretic

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    Bullshittery is the truest form of flattery
     
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  12. Happy Apple

    Happy Apple Know what you're doing yet?

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    Zfighter18 why you adding this fic in QQ, are you gonna up the lewd?
     
  13. Cherico

    Cherico Experienced.

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    to be honest if any one despretly needs to get laid its Greg and early story Armsmaster.
     
  14. Reece

    Reece I trust you know where the happy button is?

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    Trap Greg X Armsmaster .
     
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  15. Cherico

    Cherico Experienced.

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    found a theme song for Greg

     
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