Penalties
Forego Boons: 5,000 Cosmo Buckaroos
Arthritis: 10,000 Cosmo Buckaroos (Stackable 4x)
Insomnia: 12,500 Cosmo Buckaroos (Stackable, 3x)
High Level Starter Dungeon: 40,000 Cosmo Buckaroos (Stackable 5x)
Halved Leveling: 40,000 Cosmo Buckaroos
No Leveling: 80,000 Cosmo Buckaroos
Halved Stats: 55,000 Cosmo Buckaroos
No Stats: 150,000 Cosmo Buckaroos
Forego Welcome Package: 250,000 Cosmo Buckaroos
Deafness: 500,000 Cosmo Buckaroos
Blindness: 1,000,000 Cosmo Buckaroos
“Fascinating,” I muttered, scanning the papyrus. While Cosmo was too busy enjoying my suffering to say anything remotely useful, the Blessings and Penalties on offer certainly did.
For one, it told me that the world most likely resembled a medieval fantasy game world. Many of the Blessings were similar to those featured in the games I’ve played, but it was the penalties that confirmed my hunch.
I was surprised to see the word Dungeon appear there. Maybe it meant something completely different, but if I wasn’t mistaken, we were looking at monster-filled caves and underground lairs here.
The leveling penalty also told me that I could reasonably expect the experience points and leveling structures that most role-playing games had.
That I could stack certain penalties was another interesting detail. Cosmo sure had put in some effort coming up with these.
The list went on and on. Some were truly catastrophic. “[Blindness]? Seriously?”
“Yep, that one’s a doozy,” Cosmo said. “1,000,000 Cosmo Buckaroos, though. You’d be rich!”
I really would be. It awarded so many Cosmo Buckaroos, I could almost afford the [Legendary] Classes with that alone.
Except, I’d be blind. Unless…
“Any way I could undo some of these penalties once I’m in the world?” I asked, fully expecting another non-answer.
“Wouldn't be much of a penalty in that case, would it?” Cosmo replied with an amused smile.
“Very true,” I replied.
Regardless, no cost in the world was worth going blind or losing my hearing. Especially not in a new world where I might rely on sight and sound for survival, or even to communicate with the locals. Smell? Taste? Touch? Those I might be willing to compromise on. Maybe.
“Speaking of, will I be able to understand the locals? I'm guessing sapient beings exist in this world...”
“Well, who can say,” Cosmo replied, thoroughly fulfilling my nonexistent expectations.
Before I dug into the penalties, I needed to figure out what I was aiming for. Once again, I looked over the list of Blessings.
The [Divine] classes were out of reach, no matter how many penalties I racked up. In fact…
“Got a napkin and a pen?”
“Do I ever?” Cosmo said. “Your wish is my command! Sometimes, anyway.”
Cosmo snapped his fingers, and a napkin and a pen appeared before me.
When I’d summed them up, I laughed. The joke wasn’t even funny.
2,262,500 Cosmo Buckaroos. Exactly one point short. The cheapest [Divine] options weren’t even attainable, even if I took on every single penalty. Let alone whatever [Janitor] was meant to be. Not to mention doing so would leave me little better than a vegetable.
“You didn’t seriously think I’d let you become a god, did you?” Cosmo said, looking at me like I was the crazy one here. He’d popped up beside me and was poking his head over my shoulder to inspect my handiwork.
Well, that at least made the choice easier.
I focused on the ones I’d shortlisted. The options were:
Initializer [Epic] Cost: 444,995 Cosmo Buckaroos
Systems! Leveling! Now even your gear gives you stats! Isn’t that grand?
Journeyman of all Trades [Legendary] Cost: 999,995 Cosmo Buckaroos
Journeymen aren’t Jacks. Nor are they masters. You’re decent at everything, but you’ll never be truly good at anything.
Merchant Prince [Epic] Cost: 329,995 Cosmo Buckaroos
With this class, you’ll never be swindled again!
Omnimancer [Epic] Cost: 519,995 Cosmo Buckaroos
Because one element just won’t do. All the elements. All of them. Glowing forehead arrow not included.
“Is [Merchant Prince] pretty much what it sounds like?” I asked, knowing I was shooting in the dark.
“Pretty much!”
“You’re not going to tell me more, are you?”
“I actually can’t. Not until you’ve chosen your penalties.”
My… penalties?
I looked over the penalty list again.
Why would—Ah.
“It’s this 'Forego Welcome Package’ penalty, isn’t it?”
“Got it in one!” Cosmo exclaimed, snapping and pointing a finger gun at me. “The Welcome Package is full of useful tidbits that’ll help you start your journey.”
And the descriptions are one of those tidbits, huh?
Given how little information Cosmo was giving me, the Welcome Package sounded like a significant benefit. Except for one thing. Foregoing it gave me a shit ton of penalty points.
I thought long and hard about this decision. With my knowledge of game worlds, I had to wonder what I’d gain from this package. Sure, Blessing details would be nice, as would information about the world, but those points…
Regardless, I didn’t need detailed class descriptions to eliminate a handful from consideration.
I ruled out [Merchant Prince] immediately. From the penalty list and Blessing descriptions, I deduced that this world had monsters and dungeons. I didn’t know if what Cosmo wanted me to do would require fighting them, but so long as this was a dangerous world, that wasn’t a safe class to pick.
“Alright. To be honest, [Omnimancer] sounds pretty solid for a mage build.”
“Now that one’s flashy. You know Gandalf in Lord of the Rings?” he asked.
“Uh, yeah?” I replied. I hadn’t expected it to resemble the powers of a white wizard.
“Yeah, it’s nothing like that. Trust me, you’d love it.”
I sighed. Despite Cosmo’s terrible explanation, [Omnimancer] was definitely in the cards. As an elemental mage who’d mastered all the elements, I’d be powerful. But to afford it, I’d need to take a slew of penalties that I simply wasn’t comfortable with. I had to cross that one out.
I didn’t even bother with [Cosmomancer]. Yes, it was a Legendary class, but its description was clearly a joke.
Absolutely 100% Cosmic. Trust me, it’s the best. Number One.
[Initializer] was more of a unique option, in that it was another ambiguous one. Cosmo’s explanation was even worse than usual for this one.
“That is certainly a Blessing, isn’t it?”
The ability to allow objects to level. At first glance, it didn’t sound all that powerful. The word 'Gear' made me think it’d only take effect on personal equipment—weapons and armor and such.
For killing dragons, this was not the best class. It didn’t sound optimized for any purpose at all.
What it was, however, was versatile. The key hint lay in the fact that it bestowed stats to items as well.
“Just talking out loud here,” I said. “If, say, I were to initialize armor. Or a weapon. If I then leveled it, I could create specialized builds. Except, unlike a specialized Blessing, I could swap my armor and weapons according to the task at hand.”
It was, essentially, another take on the coveted Polymath class. The class that, when leveled, became masters of everything.
“Well, sure. Assuming you can hot swap in the middle of a fight,” Cosmo said, tapping his chin.
“You honestly don’t know?”
“Hey, don’t look at me!” Cosmo said, raising his hands. “I’ve never done anything like this before!”
That… actually explained a lot.
“The point is, I could create a set that boosted my merchanting skills. Then, if I needed to kill a dragon, I could swap into my dragon slayer gear. It’s a combat-crafting hybrid.”
[Initializer] had the same crippling downside as many of the others—it’d likely be weak initially—but even so, I was definitely warming up to it. It sounded perfect for the uniquely ambiguous situation I was up against.
Of course, this all assumed that my deductions were correct, though I had some confidence. For one, its [Epic] rarity tier was a big hint about its capabilities. Otherwise, it’d be a lower tier. So was its point cost within that rarity tier—it was on the higher end. For the same reason, I didn’t believe that the Initialized bonuses would be random. It’d make the class far too cumbersome to be useful, and would thus reflect in its rarity and cost.
Also, maybe it was just the alcohol, but my spidey sense was tingling. I was getting excited—that hadn’t happened in a long time.
“Talk to me, Greg,” Cosmo said, refilling my glass. “What are you thinking?”
I picked up the glass and swirled the amber liquid.
“If I’m honest, [Journeyman of all Trades] feels like the safest option. I’d be decently good at every skill, which I’m guessing means magic as well. In games, these sorts of ‘Jack’ classes usually evolve into the strongest class of them all.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
“The Polymath. Polymaths can become masters at every skill, making them the most overpowered, broken builds. Assuming you spend the time to master each skill.”
Cosmo rested his elbows on the counter, interlocked his fingers, and rested his head on them, gazing at me intently. He sure seemed to be fond of that gesture.
“So?” he said. “Why the hesitation?”
I frowned and took a sip. “Two things. For one, it’s Legendary. The penalties I’d have to take to afford it… well, they’d cripple me.”
“True enough. Imagine never going to a concert again,” Cosmo said, plugging his ears. “What’s your other hangup?”
“I’m not sure if it can evolve. One particular word in the summary stuck out to me. The word ‘never’ was bolded, italicized, and underlined—it said I’d never be great at any skill.”
“I see.” There was both excitement and amusement in Cosmo’s short reply. As usual, though, I couldn’t guess why.
“This would all just be a lot easier with a bit more information,” I said, more to myself than Cosmo.
“Why not choose your penalties, then?” he asked. “The Welcome Package would make this all so much easier, no?”
“Yeah,” I said with a grimace. “Yeah, it would. Except I’d be locking myself into the lower tier classes if I did. I did the math. Even assuming I picked most of the other non-crippling penalties, I wouldn’t have enough to afford the Epic ones, let alone the Legendaries.”
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“And?” Cosmo asked, clearly expecting me to continue.
“And, I dunno if the lower tier classes can evolve. Not a single [Common] Blessing could, which makes me think only the higher rarities can.”
“Sounds like your mind’s set, then,” Cosmo said, disappearing and reappearing a few paces away, a beer glass suddenly in his hand. He was cleaning it with a pristine white rag.
Couldn’t the guy just walk like normal people? That had to have been less than two steps!
“What?” Cosmo asked.
I take it back. Every time he used one of those powers, he was practically showing off how not normal he was.
“I have,” I said, answering his earlier question. “I’m going for one of the higher tier classes.”
If I couldn’t be sure which ones were evolution-locked, all I could do was go with a solid bet to begin with.
I asked Cosmo to magnify the ones on my shortlist, which he did by muttering 'Enhance!'
The others disappeared, leaving only three. The [Rare] Chronomancer, and its lower penalty cost and higher flexibility. The [Legendary] Journeyman of all Trades with its known limitations, or the [Epic] Initializer, which was somewhere in the middle.
“Initializer’s definitely a wildcard,” Cosmo said. “The other two would serve you well.”
“Actually, I disagree,” I said. “The real wildcard here’s Journeyman, and whether it can evolve. If I’m going with a class that’s good ‘as-is’, that one would be the riskiest.”
“That’s an interesting way of reasoning about it. Wouldn’t have thought of that,” Cosmo said, stroking his chin.
“Chronomancer, then,” he said. “If you went with that, you could afford the Welcome Package. You’d get to see all the nitty-gritty details.”
“Yes, I would,” I said, pondering the options.
I spent the next hour poring over every option again, wracking my brain for every detail I could pull out of the summaries. I considered going with [Common] Classes. I considered what it’d take to afford a [Legendary], weighing their merits and demerits against the types of situations I might encounter.
Finally, I closed my eyes, took a deep, meditative breath, and decided.
“Initializer.”
“I see!” Cosmo replied, dragging out the ‘e’. “May I ask why?”
“It’s the most versatile of the bunch,” I said simply. What I didn’t say was that, considering the penalties I had to take to get the higher rarity Blessings, it was one of the few that made any sense.
The list of penalties was long, but they fell into two major categories. Ones that sacrificed something major to gain a ton of penalty points, and ones that were less of an issue, but offered similarly fewer points.
[Initializer] cost 444,995 Cosmo Buckaroos.
I’d already decided I’d go without the Welcome Package, so that netted me 250k right off the bat. The others weren’t nearly as easy. I didn’t even consider taking the penalties that made me deaf and blind—because, well, no sane person would. Though, I did find it interesting how the system considered eyesight twice as important as hearing.
That left precious few options for getting me up to the required cost.
One of them being [High Level Starting Dungeon].
“Now the penalties I can say more about,” Cosmo said before I even asked. “As you’ve probably guessed, that [High Level Starting Dungeon]’s like the games you’ve played.”
“Wait. Does that mean that I'll start in a high level dungeon? Or that it's a high level dungeon for low leveled people?”
“The latter,” Cosmo said. “Believe me, Greg. Not even I would throw you into a high level dungeon. That'd just be mean.”
“How compassionate of you,” I said dryly.
“Now, what you may not know is that you can’t combine some of the penalties,” Cosmo continued without skipping a beat. “Halved Leveling and No Leveling can’t be combined. You can only pick one. As for blindness, deafness, and arthritis, you can combine those all you want!”
“Yeaah, I’m gonna pass on that,” I said, cringing at the thought. “Grandpa had arthritis before he passed. Just hearing him talk about it hurt me. Feeling pain whenever I try to move isn’t my idea of a good time.”
“Right? Getting old sucks.”
“How old are you, anyway?” I asked, leaning back on the barstool and crossing my arms.
Cosmo threw me a look of pure horror and clasped his hands over his heart. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to ask a god his age? It’s rude!”
I rolled my eyes. “Any others I can’t combine?”
“‘Halved Stats’ and ‘No Stats.’”
“Makes sense. Those are what they sound like, aren’t they?”
“You bet! No leveling means you’re Level Uno for life. No level ups. None of that sweet dopamine rush you gamers are always craving.”
“It’s not the dopamine that bothers me,” I said. “It’s survivability. What about No Stats, though? What does that even mean?”
That ‘No Stats’ granted twice as many Cosmo Buckaroos as ‘No Leveling’ was telling. Stats usually improved at a slower rate, but had far more meaning than levels. Foregoing stats was a heavy penalty to take on.
“Just that you’ll be stuck with stats at rank one.”
Heavy penalty indeed. That would be suicide.
“You're saying I could expect to improve them without the penalty, then?” I asked. “With level ups and evolutions and such?”
“Perhaps,” Cosmo said with a shrug.
That was interesting. That info was probably also part of the Welcome Package, but anything pertaining to penalties likely wasn’t.
The way the penalties were structured, I’d have to pick at least one that was truly significant. Either I forego leveling, or I forego stats. If I wanted any of the [Legendary] or [Epic] Blessings, this was a choice I’d be forced to make.
If I was honest, both sounded debilitating. Playing an RPG as a level one character was like cranking up the difficulty level to Nightmare Mode.
Which meant if I picked either, I’d need a class that could make up for that deficiency. Make up and exceed.
“I have one question for you, then. [Initializer] levels things. And also stats as well, by its description. Would I lose that ability if I took the ‘Forego Leveling’ or ‘Forego Stats’?”
“Hmm, that’s a good question!”
I took a swig, feeling the alcohol burn as it trickled down my throat. Yeah, that’s gonna be a problem.
“You see the issue here, don’t you?” I asked. “If I can’t level objects, [Initializer] becomes useless. So do pretty much all the other Blessings, for that matter.”
“Certainly looks that way, doesn’t it?” Cosmo said.
“You really won’t say anything?”
Cosmo gave me a sly smile.
Guess that means I’m on my own…
It was only after I’d stared at the list of classes for what felt like an eternity that I remembered something.
“Cosmo, can you show me the Common Blessings again?”
“What, now? You’re chickening out?” Cosmo said, acting shocked. “Where’s your sense of adventure!”
“Humor me,” I said, trying to keep the excitement out of my voice.
“No problemo, amigo,” Cosmo said, pulling the papyrus scrolls, which caused them to roll up and out of the way.
I scanned the list…
Bingo.
I downed the rest of the whisky and slammed the glass on the counter. “I’ve decided. No Welcome Package. High Level Starter Dungeon. And… No Stats.”
The answer was right there all along. A couple of the Common classes had disclaimers next to the stat boosts they bestowed.
(Note: Equipment Stat modifiers bypass any stat penalties)
Games weren’t like real life. They set down rules. Ironclad rules that underpinned their entire operation. Equipment stat modifiers bypassed any penalties. If that was true for Common Blessings, it was true of them all. I hoped.
And that meant [Initializer] was one of the few Blessings capable of overcoming any stat debuffs. Its initialized gear bestowed stats, and because equipment stats bypassed penalties… It practically nullified the penalty altogether! I saw nothing like that mentioned for leveling, so that was the only sensible choice.
Even so, I needed confirmation. There was no way I'd gamble my future on a hunch, no matter how strong. Then again, Cosmo had already shown he wouldn't give me a yes or no answer, so I'd have to get a little creative.
“Equipment stat modifiers bypass stat penalties,” I said, stating the facts aloud. “[Initializer] bestows stats. Ergo, [Initializer] bypasses Stat penalties.”
This was the tricky part. Time to see if Cosmo played ball. “Assuming I choose that Blessing, how would the penalty list change?”
“Hmm, let me see,” Cosmo said, fiddling with the mechanism that unfurled the scroll. “Ah! Here we go.”
He rolled down a new scroll, containing an identical set of penalties. Identical... except for one.
Stats Gained From Initialized Gear: 150,000 Cosmo Buckaroos
I did my best to keep a poker face. Whether Cosmo had messed up with this Blessing, or if he was simply unaware, I was gonna be damned sure to milk this exploit. This was the confirmation I needed. I'd have stats! Just that I'd gain them through my gear, but that was actually a massive advantage in disguise. I could re-spec my stats simply by putting on different armor. I could have the most optimized build for every scenario imaginable!
“So, taking that brings you up to 440,000 Cosmo Buckaroos,” Cosmo said. “So close!”
I was just 4,995 bucks short.
“What Cosmic Irony,” Cosmo deadpanned.
I… actually laughed.
Cosmo’s lips edged up slightly. I was pretty sure that was the first genuine smile he’d given me since I walked into his bar. As if my reaction put him at ease somehow.
“Feel like stacking that High Level Starter Dungeon Penalty?” Cosmo asked.
“Hard pass,” I said. Life was already going to be hard with [Initializer] in a high level dungeon. The last thing I needed was to reduce my odds of survival even more.
The Forego Boons penalty seemed like the obvious bet, but without knowing more about what it did, I couldn’t risk it. Cosmo wasn’t willing to give me any details, so I turned to my only other resources—the Blessing descriptions.
It took a while, but I finally found something that mentioned it.
Boonchild [Uncommon]
Details: Most struggle to receive Boons of the gods. Not you! You’re swimming in them. They may not be all that strong, but who’d say no to more freebies, eh?
Gotcha!
It made sense. If Blessings were powerful gifts of the gods, then Boons were their lesser counterparts. From the low cost, I could figure their worth—next to useless.
“Looks like no Boons for me,” I said.
“Oh, that’s a good one! They’ll just convert to experience, instead. Now, are you sure this is what you want?”
I blinked. If I wasn’t mistaken, Cosmo had just let slip something there.
So, taking the penalty means I can’t take Boons, but instead, that’ll contribute to my leveling? That’s hardly even a penalty.
[Forego Boons] was a definite pick. As for the rest, I wasn’t as sure. [Initializer] would be weak to start. While I wasn’t crazy enough to stack it, I’d taken the High Level Starter Dungeon penalty. That meant I’d be relying on my gaming knowledge to pull me through. There was, of course, no guarantee the world worked that way, but Cosmo’s hints and the class descriptions said otherwise.
I didn’t normally go with enchanting and crafting classes in my builds—mainly because they tended not to specialize in any one thing. Which, ironically, was the reason I’d chosen it.
More than that, though, I knew so little about the world I was about to enter. Far less than I was normally used to. That was both terrifying and—as Cosmo said—more than a little exciting. When was the last time I’d been challenged like this? I could hardly even remember. I missed the feeling.
Were there risks and unknowns with this route? Yes. But what was life without a little spice?
“I’m sure,” I replied, meeting Cosmo’s face.
But the bartender didn’t simply agree, as I’d thought he would.
“There are no take-backs, you know? And I’m not talking just about your Blessing. This is your last chance to walk out that door and forget this ever happened. Once you’re in, you’re in.”
I’d expected that all along, but hearing the words drove it home.
“I can’t come back, can I?”
“I’m… afraid I can’t say,” Cosmo said. There was genuine regret in his voice. Like he wanted to tell me, but couldn’t.
My hand shook, and my heart pumped. Not out of fear—though there was a little of that—but anticipation. Cosmo wasn’t wrong. I’d lost count of how many times I’d fantasized about being whisked away to another world.
Cosmo set out two shot glasses on the counter.
As I watched him pour, I wondered whether I really could give up everything I had here.
For many, I imagined it’d be a decision fraught with agony. Family, friends, careers. People who relied on them. That was a lot to leave behind. Shackles that weighed them down.
I had none of these things. Certainly not with my dad. As for my sister, well, we hadn't spoken in years. Hell, I didn’t even have a pet. Maybe that was why Cosmo picked me.
“Let’s do this,” I muttered.
Cosmo raised his glass. He regarded me with relief, and also a touch of sadness. Like this was the last time we’d see each other.
I raised mine as well. Was this all real? Was it some great hoax? Looked like I'd find out soon.
“To new beginnings,” he said.
“New beginnings,” I echoed, gulping the shot. This was strong stuff. If this was all real, how long would it be until I had another?
I made sure I relished every last drop of the divine liquid.
“May fate be kind to you,” he said as we set down our empty glasses.
I rolled my eyes. “Gee, thanks. Why don’t you use your godly powers to—”
My world went blindingly white.
The next thing I knew, I was standing in a dimly lit tunnel. My buzz was gone—I was completely sober.
I waited for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. Contrasting my dark surroundings, a green image of a person showed up. It reminded me of the Vitruvian man, with its arms and legs spread wide. I supposed that was my health display.
Within the person, a bright blue liquid filled the outline, starting from the feet and rising up to the head. The words Essence Utilization: 0/10 appeared on top.
The image moved when I did, making it function like a Heads-Up Display. I wondered how they pulled that off.
Even neater—I could drag and adjust the size and location of the items as I liked, as well as hide and show various features with a thought.
Patting myself, I noticed that both my wallet and my phone were gone, leaving me with just my clothes. The hell?
“Thought you said you wouldn't rob me,” I muttered in annoyance. It wasn't like either would've done much good, but at least my phone had a flashlight. Might've helped until the battery ran out.
An explosion of rocks broke me out of my thoughts, kicking up a cloud of dust I had to fan away.
When the cloud cleared, I found two stone pillars that hadn’t been there before. Shiny, black stone that was polished to an almost mirror-like finish.
My eyes traveled up from the ground, trying to make sense of what I was looking at. The two pillars supported a large boulder, also shiny and black. Two rocky protrusions extended from it, and on top sat a smooth rock.
A rock that had two glowing red orbs.
No. Not orbs. Eyes!
The assemblage shifted, and I understood that this wasn’t just a pile of rocks. It was an animated pile of rocks. A Stone Golem. Specifically an Obsidian Golem. The Golem that had just pulverized a wall of the cave I was in.
An overlay materialized around the golem’s frame, coating it in a green hue.
This wasn’t the golem’s magic, though. I recognized it as an element of my HUD—the same one that showed my Essence pool and body condition.
In fact, it was exactly like my body’s condition display. I supposed this was my Blessing helping me understand my enemy’s current level of health. If I was right, it’d shift to yellow, then red as I hurt it.
Very neat.
I didn’t have a chance to ponder its meaning, but I did notice the golem’s health overlay was now light yellow. It was obvious why—in attacking the tunnel, it’d pulverized its own hand.
Strong, but fragile, huh? Befitting something made of obsidian.
Its glowing red eyes found me. And then it let out a roar so deep, the cave actually shook.
It was so absurd. So impossible, I laughed. My understanding of reality was breaking down around me, and my thoughts clouded.
The golem smashed the ground. Small stones went whizzing by my ear. So close, I could feel the air they displaced.
My cheek felt hot.
I touched my face, and it came away wet.
Strange.
It was sticky and warm.
I stared blankly at my bloodied fingers.
And then I understood.
This wasn’t faked.
This wasn’t an illusion.
It was real. It was all real.
And I was about to die.