“Kyaaa!” the [Rizzenator] said, blushing and extending its palm at Dick as it looked away. “Don’t look so lewdly at a fair maiden! I know I’m irrizzistable, but sheesh! Are you into ten year old girls or something!? Lolicon! Hentai!”
“You’re a mechanical monster.”
“Don’t corrupt the heart of this fair maiden with your lewdness!” the [Rizzenator] rizzplied. “A-anyway, it’s not like I want to, but if you insist, I challenge you to a Rizzoff!” the self-proclaimed 10 year old [Rizzenator] of the town of Rizz proudly stated, puffing out its mechanical chest.
“I didn’t insist. I didn’t even say anything,” Dick replied.
“Oh, yeah,” Greg said. “The [Rizzenator]’s also a tsundere.”
“Ah.”
“D-don’t get the wrong idea, okay? It’s not like I’m a ts-tsundere or anything!”
“Understood. So what’s a Rizzoff?”
“It’s a competition,” Greg said. “Usually terribly difficult. Someones involving the loss of a limb. Or a head.”
“Huh. So, like a Dickoff, but dumber. Didn’t even think that was possible.”
“We shall fight to see who’s the better [Rizzler]!” the terminator said.
“The fuck is a Rizzler?”
“A [Rizzler]! Not a Rizzler! And a [Rizzler]’s someone who’s got a lotta Rizz. Oodles and oodles of it. Like me! I’m currently the [ArchRizzler]. Somebody stop me!” the terminator said with a devlish smile.
“Just how old are you?”Dick asked. “What kinda hick even says ‘oodles’ anymore? Also stop it with this Rizz business. It’s honestly getting annoying.”
“Irizzponsible! You barge into our town and then you spit on our culture!? Rizzpicable.”
“That’s a fair point. Reminds me of how my ancestors got along so well with the natives when they first came to America. Treated everyone fair and equal. Set an example for their descendents,” Dick said, wiping a tear from his eye.
“R-right,” the terminator replied.
“So, how do you gain Rizz? And how are we supposed to compare that, anyway?”
“Easy! We use the System! If you bring up your Status Screen, you’ll see a new field for Rizz!”
Name: Richard ‘Big Dick’ Hansen
Number Go Up: 33
Class: [Middle Class American]
EXP: 18374/19607
HP: 306/306
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
MP: 12/12
RIZZ: 0
Tittles:
[Boarslayer I]. You are the bane of the [Boarse]. +5% damage against Boarsii.
[Slime Stomper I]. Slimes everywhere fear your boots. +5% damage to slimes when stomped underfoot. Go get ‘em, tiger!
[Frickenbane I]. Frikkin [Fricken] flee from your onslaught. You are [Frickenbane], bane of the [Fricken]. +10% damage against Frickenese. +50 EXP.
Status Effects: None
Stats:
Bignosity: 6 — Hulk SMASH.
Brain: 2 — You ain’t the sharpest tool in the shed, Dick. But that’s okay. The world needs its share of fucking idiots.
Danciness: 1 — You’re about as agile as a turd. No surprise there. I mean, you literally died to a tree.
Physicality: 3 — You’re big, sure. But a lifetime of burgers and fries has left your arteries clogged and diabetes at your doorstep. It’s a miracle you don’t have cancer.
Magic: 1 — You fucking suck. Give up before you embarrass yourself.
Studliness: 7 — The ladies swoon. The men, too.
Skills:
[Boarseshitting]: 4 — Pulling shit out of your ass comes as naturally as a Boarse with diarrhea. +1% chance of making people think you know what you’re talking about.
[Cooking]: 5 ([Middle Class American]: +50*) — Cook shit. Good shit. +530% to cooking prep speed. +530% to taste. (But only when cooking food that gives you cancer, heart disease, and diabetes.)
[Knife Carving]: 4 — Carve stuff. With knives. +4% quality to objects carved with knives. +4% knife carving speed.
[Pitfall Trap Making]: 2 — Make your enemies fall to their deaths. In spectacular fashion. +2% trap deadliness. +2% trap setting speed.
[Stomp]: 13 — Foes fall beneath your heels. You are the Gompstomper, and stomping is what you do. +1.3% damage to enemies dispatched via stomping.
[Teaching]: 4 — Who ever thought an idiot like you could teach people. The world sure is a strange place. +1% student knowledge retention.
[Walking]: 6 — Turns out everything’s a skill in this world. Even walking. +% movement speed while walking.
Sure enough, there was a new field for Rizz, currently sitting at very sorry-looking zero.
“At the end of the day, we’ll show each other our Rizz. If I win, you have to… um… You have to say you’re sorry!”
“I’m sorry.”
“You can’t say it yet! That’s not fair!” the self-proclaimed ten year old girl said, deploying its ultimate weapon: [Crying].
“Dick, you made her [cry]!” Greg said, pointing his oversized gloved hand accusingly.
“That thing is a machine. It doesn’t have a gender.”
“Does too!” the bawling [Rizzenator] said.
“Well, shoot, if you say so…”
As an upstanding patriot, Dick couldn’t stand making little girls cry. He’d walked right into her trap.
“Alright, I’ll do it. But what do I get if I win?”
“Huh? Why would you get anything if you win?”
Dick stared at the girl for a long moment. “That’s usually how bets work.”
“So? We’re in my town, rizzter!”
“Huh. Good point.”
“W-well, since you asked, I guess I can give you my [Falling Tortoise]?”
“DEAL.”
Greg facepalmed. “What in god’s name is a [Falling Tortoise]!?”
“Sup? You rang?” God said, poking his head through a portal.
“NO! GO DO YOUR JOB!I”
“Mmmkay,” God replied, before bursting a massive bubble gum bubble, which stuck itself onto his whole face.
“Y'know? I think I now understand why my predecessors are all dead,” said Greg, yanking his nonexistent hair.