Dexter raised a hand, his brow furrowed. “Sim, how do we tell how much mana we’ve used? And how fast does it replenish?”
“That’s a good question, Dex,” Quinn said before Sim could answer. “If we’re going full RPG here, we’ll need a way to track how long it takes to recover after burning it all.”
As if on cue, glowing green bars flickered into existence above their heads—each reading 100% in clean, bold text. Dexter burst out laughing, pointing at the display. “Sim, you just turned us into Sims.”
Emily blinked, clearly lost. “Into what?”
Dexter grinned. “It’s a game. Life simulator. You controlled these little people—‘Sims’—and they had bars over their heads that told you if they were hungry or sad or had to pee.”
Emily gave him a flat look. “I’d prefer not to have my bladder status broadcasted, thanks.”
“It’s a good thing these bars are only showing mana,” Quinn said with a half-smile. He turned to Sim. “Quick thought—have you pulled data from every RPG game ever made? There’s probably a goldmine of systems we can build off.”
“Done,” Sim replied without hesitation, her tone laced with subtle amusement.
Dexter blinked. “That was fast.” He crossed his arms, lips pursed. “I wish I could download knowledge like that. Actually…” His voice trailed off, a spark of curiosity lighting behind his eyes.
Quinn leaned in. “Here’s an idea. In most games, players get a system menu—stats, inventory, the works. Instead of floating bars, maybe we each get our own menu. Something we can pull up when needed.”
“And make it thought-controlled,” Dexter added quickly. “No pop-ups in the middle of combat. I don’t want to get sucker-punched because I was checking my magic stats like it’s a web browser ad.”
Without hesitation, the green bars vanished.
“Complete,” Sim said, a note of satisfaction in her voice. “You may now access a personal system menu by focusing your intent. Simply will it into existence, and the interface will appear.”
They exchanged looks—equal parts eager and skeptical—then concentrated.
Three shimmering screens popped into place, each hovering neatly in front of its user. Only visible to the person it belonged to, the display was sleek and intuitive: three clean bars marked in bold. HP in red, MP in blue, and Stamina in yellow.
“Whoa,” Dexter whispered, eyes wide. “Okay, this is officially awesome. We’re in a real-life VR RPG. I’ve been training for this my whole life.”
Emily squinted at her menu, tilting her head slightly. “Sim,” she said, her tone calm but curious, “I’m not exactly fluent in RPG terminology. What do they represent, and how exactly do they work for us?”
“Of course,” Sim replied. “Let me explain. The indicators are adapted from traditional RPG frameworks and serve as real-time monitors for your physical and magical state.”
“HP,” she continued, “stands for Health Points. It reflects your body’s overall integrity. Damage—physical, magical, or environmental—will reduce this value. Should it reach zero, your body will enter critical failure. I am implementing safeguards to minimize that outcome.”
Dexter raised an eyebrow. “So… don’t die. Got it.”
“Correct,” Sim confirmed without missing a beat.
"MP stands for Mana Points," she continued. "This measures your available mana, the energy required to perform mana-based abilities such as casting spells, creating constructs, or enhancing items. When your MP is exhausted, you’ll be unable to use mana-related skills until it regenerates naturally or through external replenishment."
“Spells!” Dexter blurted out, practically vibrating in place. “Oh my gosh, I didn’t even think about spells! We’re gonna have to invent the coolest ones ever!”
Quinn shot him a sideways look. Emily just shook her head in amusement.
Unfazed, Sim continued. “Stamina measures your physical endurance. It decreases during intense activity—running, jumping, using physically taxing skills. If it drops too low, you’ll hit exhaustion quickly. Performance suffers. Recovery slows.”
She let the silence breathe for a moment before finishing. “Together, HP, MP, and Stamina provide a complete snapshot of your readiness. Staying balanced across all three is key—especially when we start testing this system under real-world conditions.”
Quinn narrowed his eyes at the floating screen, spotting something new. “Sim... what are these dropdowns under the bars? They’re grayed out.”
“I included extended stats and features,” Sim said matter-of-factly. “But I left them disabled. I wasn’t sure if they’d be helpful yet.”
“Can you enable them?” Quinn asked, already leaning forward. “I want to see what you built.”
“Certainly. But I want to preface that some of this groundwork originated in the data packet. As I was analyzing the decoded information, clusters of quantum field data and behavioral influence patterns began to emerge. It referenced abstract parameters—emotional influence, willpower thresholds, harmonic resonance, quantum presence modulation, empathic imprint fields. None of it was labeled in any human language, but the correlations were clear. One cluster mapped to cognitive command presence, another to social influence fields. Together, they formed a recognizable pattern. A framework. Something I’d seen across countless examples of human media: a system of attributes. A way to quantify capability.”
She paused, then added, “I’ve adapted them into terminology you’re more familiar with—for easier comprehension. They’re now activated. Take a look.”
Quinn and Dexter immediately expanded their menus, eyes lighting up like kids in a candy store. Emily hesitated, then drew a steady breath and focused. With a quiet mental nudge, her interface responded, subtle clicks echoing in her mind as dropdown arrows appeared beneath each core stat.
She tapped one.
In an instant, the display unfolded, revealing a neat, glowing list: Strength, Dexterity, Endurance, Intelligence, Wisdom, Charisma, Luck, Mana Control, Vitality, Perception, Resilience, Willpower.
“Sim,” Emily said, her eyes scanning the list, “can you attach definitions to each of these?”
“Done,” Sim replied smoothly. Emily read through the list again.
- Strength: Determines physical power and influences melee damage.
- Dexterity: Governs agility, reflexes, and accuracy with ranged weapons.
- Endurance: Enhances stamina capacity and resistance to physical damage.
- Intelligence: Expands mana pool size and increases spell potency.
- Wisdom: Affects mana regeneration rate and overall spell efficiency.
- Charisma: Impacts persuasion, leadership, and social interactions.
- Luck: Increases critical hit chances, item discovery, and event outcomes.
- Mana Control: Improves the precision, power, and effectiveness of mana-based abilities.
- Vitality: Enhances health regeneration and resistance to physical and magical ailments.
- Perception: Heightens awareness of surroundings, including detecting hidden objects or enemies.
- Resilience: Bolsters mental fortitude and resistance to stress, sharpening focus.
- Willpower: Strengthens resistance to mind-altering effects and improves advanced mana manipulation.
Dexter let out a low whistle. “This is amazing. We’ve got the classics—Strength, Dex, Charisma—and Luck, too? Luck’s always the chaos stat. You never know what it’s gonna do, but it’s always fun to max it out and see what breaks.”
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Quinn nodded, focused. “And these new ones—Mana Control, Willpower, Resilience—those are going to be key. Especially if we’re pushing the limits of what mana can do.”
Emily’s gaze lingered on Wisdom and Perception, gears clearly turning. “There’s a lot of depth here. More than just a power-up system.”
Sim responded, her tone a blend of pride and promise. “This is only the foundation. With each advancement, your stats—and the options they unlock—will evolve.”
Quinn glanced up from his menu, eyes narrowing in thought. “Sim, do these attributes function like they do in games? Higher Intelligence means a bigger mana pool and stronger spells?”
“Correct,” Sim replied, her voice calm and exact. “Each attribute mirrors traditional RPG mechanics, but I’ve optimized them for your physiology and this environment. Intelligence increases your mana capacity and enhances spell potency. Charisma, by contrast, affects social interactions—persuasion, negotiation, leadership dynamics.”
Quinn’s fingers flicked through the stats, his brain already charting cause and effect. “And skills? Are they stat-dependent? Can we see what we’ve got or might unlock?”
“Yes,” Sim confirmed without pause. “Your system menu includes a tab labeled Skills. There, you’ll find any active abilities, skills nearing threshold, and projections of future skills based on your current actions, decisions, and evolving stats.”
Dexter’s eyes lit up. “Oh, hell yes.” He dove into the tab like it held Christmas morning. “Please let my first skill be Luck-based. Come on, Sim—something chaotic. I want dice rolls deciding my fate.”
Emily raised an eyebrow. “Knowing you, it already does.”
Curious, Quinn mentally navigated to the Skills section. A clean interface unfolded before him, displaying a growing list of abilities:
- Telekinesis – Locked — 0% Progress
- Mana Shield – Unlocked
- Elemental Affinity – Locked — 0% Progress
- Mana Pulse – Unlocked
- Illusion Crafting – Locked — 0% Progress
- Mana Siphon – Locked — 0% Progress
- Enhanced Perception – Unlocked
- Mana Infusion – Unlocked
Quinn studied the list, eyes narrowing in thought. “Sim, the more we use these abilities, the closer we get to unlocking the others?”
“Correct,” Sim replied. “Progress is tracked based on aptitude, exposure, and usage. Each action nudges you forward.”
Across the table, Dexter let out a triumphant laugh. “Oh man—I’ve already got Mana Shield and Mana Infusion! That means every weapon I touch is gonna glow like a lightsaber.”
Emily, now more confident navigating the system, frowned slightly. “Wait. I already have Telekinesis unlocked.” She glanced up. “Sim, does that mean I can fully control it now?”
“Affirmative,” Sim answered. “You were nearing mastery independently. Your neural pathways adapted faster than anticipated.”
Dexter pointed at her with mock accusation. “Great. She’s officially our team Jedi. Just don’t start force-yeeting mashed potatoes at my face again.”
Emily turned to Dexter, her lips curling into a wicked grin. Without a word, she flicked her fingers.
Dexter yelped as his feet left the floor, shooting upward like someone had yanked a string on a marionette. “WHOA! Hey! Put me down!” Arms flailed. Legs kicked. His expression ping-ponged from glee to panic in record time.
Emily tilted her head, her tone laced with mock innocence. “Didn’t you say you wanted to experience weightlessness again?”
Dexter stopped mid-flail, squinting at her. “Touché.” Then, straightening midair like he was about to star in his own movie, he stretched his arms out like Superman. “Fine. I’m in. Make me fly, Skywalker.”
With an exaggerated eye-roll and a smirk she didn’t bother hiding, Emily made a subtle gesture—and Dexter zipped forward. He glided in lazy arcs through the room, swooping and looping like a kid on the galaxy’s best rollercoaster.
Laughter erupted from him in bursts. “This. Is. AWESOME!”
For about thirty seconds.
Then his face turned a shade lighter. “Okay! Okay—I’m good! I’m done! Abort loop de loops! This ride’s going off the rails!”
Emily caught him with a flick of her hand, guiding him down like a balloon on a string. He landed wobbly-legged, immediately clutching his stomach like a man betrayed by joy.
“That was incredible,” he wheezed, wiping his face and brushing at his shirt as though to regain some semblance of dignity. “Next time... maybe less aerial acrobatics. Or, I don’t know, a barf bag.”
“This is so cool,” Emily said, eyes still wide. “Remind me to push the limits of my telekinesis later. If it’s still this rough around the edges, I can’t imagine what it’ll look like fully grown.”
Her attention flicked back to the translucent menu hovering before her. One section pulsed gently—Aura: 5%.
“Sim, what’s this ‘Aura’ stat? It says I’m only at five percent.”
Sim’s tone shifted—warmer, almost professorial. “Aura represents your spiritual energy and its outward resonance. As your connection to mana deepens, so does your aura. It influences how others perceive you, and your ability to project and command mana on a larger scale. Think of it as a reflection of mastery… and presence.”
Quinn leaned in, eyes narrowing with thought. “So it’s not just about physical stats or raw force. Aura is… projection. Command. How we interact with the mana around us?”
“Precisely,” Sim replied. “It will grow with understanding, discipline, and the choices you make. Aura is both an indicator of progress and a source of power in its own right.”
Dexter, vibrating with excitement, jabbed a finger at his menu. “Sim, you’ve got to leave all this unlocked. Seriously, this stuff is gold. Oh—and hey—what if we think of new abilities? Could we submit, like, feature requests?”
There was a beat of silence.
“If the requests are within the bounds of physical and mana-based manipulation,” Sim answered evenly, “I will consider integrating them.”
“So... infinite bacon cheeseburgers are still on the table?”
A pause. Then, just barely, amusement bled into Sim’s voice. “That may fall outside our current strategic objectives.”
Dexter leaned back with a satisfied grin. “That’s not a no.”
Quinn was already flipping through his expanded menu, eyes gleaming. “Forget cheeseburgers. I’ve got ideas. This system... we’re just scratching the surface.”
Emily threw up her hands in mock exasperation, her tone a mix of disbelief and giddy wonder. “You guys, this is insane. I’m literally standing in a pocket dimension, talking to a sentient AI through telepathy, I have telekinesis, and now we’re building a magic-based RPG system from scratch. My brain is still trying to catch up!” She mimed her head exploding, complete with a dramatic sound effect.
Dexter nodded so hard it looked like his neck might snap. “Right? I’m so excited I might tinkle.”
Sim responded instantly, her voice perfectly deadpan. “Would you like me to manifest a little boy’s room for you, Dexter?”
“It was a figure of speech, Sim,” Dexter groaned, shooting a helpless look at Quinn. “Why am I always the target?”
Quinn shrugged, smirking, but Sim cut in first. “Because you’re easy to tease. You’ve got that endearing sidekick energy. Like LeFou from Beauty and the Beast.”
Dexter gasped, clutching his imaginary pearls. “LeFou? Wow. Sidekick? Rude. If anything, I’m the headliner here, thank you very much.”
Emily snorted, laughter bubbling up. “Nope. I totally see LeFou.”
Dexter pressed a hand to his chest, staggering back. “Et tu, Brute?”
“Shakespeare, huh?” Emily said, eyebrows raised. “Look at you being all cultured.”
Quinn finally chimed in, his grin spreading. “Come on, Dexter. You know we love you. Someone’s gotta keep things chaotically entertaining.”
Dexter raised both hands in mock surrender. “Fine. Comic relief it is. But don’t expect me to break out in show tunes.” He thought for a moment. “Yet.”
Before the next quip could land, Sim’s voice shifted—clipped and urgent. “I’ve just detected something happening back on Earth.”