I sat in a small chamber, for my so-called character creation, in front of a mirror. Behind me, the angel was sitting in his white suit. Somehow it maintained perfect and immaculate integrity during our transportation to this place. My wooden chair was rather uncomfortable, but I figured I wouldn’t be winning any extra points complaining about it.

“How do I make myself hotter?” I asked. “What do I call you, anyway?”

“Ah, finally remembered my name, huh?” the Angel said, “My name is Charzetl-” The angel stopped as I stared blankly at him before he even finished the name. My staring contest with the angel didn’t go so well. I put up a valiant fight for the first twenty seconds or so, but I lost. After all, he was an angel and I was a disembodied soul. It wasn’t exactly even footing.

“I’m going to call you Charlie,” I admitted. “So Charlie, how do I make myself more attractive?”

Charlie waved his hand, conjuring another chair from wherever he turned spiritual stuff into the physical-ish matter. He sat down, folding his hands politely. He was practically begging me to continue testing his patience.

“Charlie it is, I suppose,” the Angel admitted. He smoothed down his gold tie as he continued, “That’s not the process of character creation we’re going to be using. You will have access to five separate scores. Increasing those scores will affect how the other souls relate to you in the game. I’ve already roped in quite a few other souls to my little experiment.”

“Wow, you’ve had this conversation a bunch of times already?” I asked. “That must get old.”

Charlie stared at me blankly. “I’m an angel, buddy. I’m having this conversation six times right now.”

My mouth dropped open slightly, so I pulled myself back together. He was an angel after all. It only made sense his powers would be beyond a scope I could imagine. I felt bad for the poor sap. Hopefully, everyone else was going just as easy on him. Which is to say, not at all.

“Alright, fine. Show me these stats.” To his credit, the stats were quick at popping up in my field of view. I glared at them angrily and the window escaped to the edge of my vision. I could still see it by focusing on the top right corner.

Attractiveness: 5

Approachability: 4

Persuasion: 5

Management: 2

Menace: 8

Level 1 Restaurateur

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Available Points: 20

“You’re going to be using these points to help set your soul in the right direction. Remember, this choice is very important. These points will dictate how all the souls-” Charlie said, cutting himself off as he saw what I was doing. “What are you doing?”

What I was doing was, naturally, dumping all twenty of my available points into the attractiveness stat. It only took one mental push of my intentions. After all, who didn’t want to be hotter? I did, as I had made quite clear. I was just gaming the system.

In the mirror, I watched my jawline melt, becoming more chiseled. My eyes, which I always thought were a little small, filled out. A couple of scars I accrued during my life disappeared. My hair, which had been receding slowly, popped back into place. The errant hairs which usually stuck up all over my scalp fell into their proper place. Dying was seriously good for my self-esteem.

“This is awesome, Charlie. Thanks.”

“You were meant to consider your choice carefully. You’re going to be running a business here.”

“I got what I wanted,” I assured him. “I’m going to be running a business?”

“You’re missing a lot of information since I got all excited about your character creation. The file said there was only a half of a percent chance you even agreed. You didn’t seem to care about the scenario. Or remember your wife and children. I took note of that, by the way.”

“Who says I didn’t remember them?” I shot back.

“You didn’t bring them up,” Charlie countered. The worst part was I could see the smugness on his face. I could see him mentally tabulating all the extra days he could stick me here for this. Hell, no, phrasing aside. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.

“I’m in shock,” I said sadly, “Give me the chance for it to sink in. I’ll be bawling by tomorrow.” Naturally, I was rather pleased to have a break. Daily life had me running around every day while I was arriving. If I was going to be stuck in Gamer Purgatory, I was going to make the most of it. Time for me to kick back and relax. Maybe I could even scrounge up a mojito somewhere.

“Right,” Charlie said, just as skeptical as he should be. “I believe that. Anyway, we got distracted. Let me summon up my equipment so I can fill you in on the scenario.”

The aforementioned equipment was a whiteboard. It came complete with markers and a drawing of some kind of trippy psychedelic fractal – almost sending me into shock – and a banana Charlie started eating. I desperately wanted to make a joke about his mouth and the banana, but I held myself back for once. He finally started to explain my new situation.

“You’re going to be given a set of starting equipment based on your role. For you, that’s a small food truck, some kitchen equipment, some starting ingredients, and one hundred C-Bucks for decoration. That’s the name I’m using for the currency. Other people will use it to buy your food. You’ll use it to upgrade your restaurant, expand into a real space, and maybe even expand with some employees or other locations.”

The information on the side of my screen was reorganized based on the new information. I watched the letters, wishing for some drugs, with rapt attention.

Attractiveness: 25

Approachability: 4

Persuasion: 5

Management: 2

Menace: 8

Available Points: 0

Currency: 100C

Level 1 Restaurateur

“So basically, you want me to prove my understanding of other people through capitalism. I just create a chain of restaurants to absorb all the C-Bucks, hand them back to you, and move on. Right?”

Charlie looked at me intently, shaking his head. It was disgust or disappointment or sadness. I couldn’t tell what sort of emotion it was, instead focusing on the win. I was pretty sure it was a win.

“Let’s just start by focusing on decorating the food truck,” he said.

“You want me to decorate a food truck?” I looked at him seriously, mustering all the sincerity I could, and said, “Good luck, Charlie.”