Max_Striker
patreon
Chapter 4: Gaming the System
🕑 Added 2025-06-21 09:44:25 +0000 UTCDean woke up on the warehouse floor feeling like he'd been hit by a truck—which, considering his recent interdimensional travel, wasn't too far off. But none of that mattered. What mattered was the warm feeling in his chest and the memory of earning his first karma point.
"Time to level up," Dean said, stretching his sore muscles.
He'd spent half the night thinking about it. The Karmic Battery was just another system with rules. And Dean had always been good at gaming systems. Back in college, he'd figured out which professors gave easy A's and somehow convinced his advisor that leading a World of Warcraft guild counted as management experience.
This was just applied economics with superpowers.
"One good deed equals one karma point," Dean muttered, pulling on his jacket. "Simple math. I just need to do more good deeds."
The streets buzzed with opportunity. Every person was a potential karma source, every minor problem a chance to help. Dean walked with purpose, scanning the city like it was the world's biggest quest board.
His first target: a businesswoman juggling an overstuffed briefcase and a precarious coffee cup. Perfect setup. Dean positioned himself strategically and executed what he thought was a masterful accidental bump.
"Whoops!" Dean said, knocking the coffee from her hand. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry! Here, let me help—"
"Are you kidding me?" The woman stared at her coffee-stained silk blouse. "This is designer! Do you know how much these costs?"
Dean frantically pulled out napkins—napkins he'd prepared specifically for this moment. "It's okay! I've got napkins! I can totally clean this up!"
"Don't touch me!" She clutched her briefcase and backed away. "Just stay away from me, you psycho!"
As she stormed off, Dean felt a familiar pulse in his chest. But instead of warm energy, it felt like someone had flicked his soul with a disappointed finger.
[Karmic Battery: -1 Unit]
[Action: Manufactured crisis for personal gain]
[Total Charge: -1/100(Tier-0)]
"Negative karma?" Dean whispered. "There's negative karma? What kind of system is this?"
Dean stared at the message flickering in his vision. "That's not fair! I helped! I had napkins!"
A businessman walking past gave him a wide berth. Apparently, arguing with invisible messages wasn't normal New York behavior.
Dean tried again. This time, he'd be more subtle. He spotted an elderly man dropping quarters near a parking meter. Dean rushed over, but instead of simply helping, he executed an elaborate fake trip that sent the man's remaining change flying everywhere.
"Let me help you gather those up!" Dean said, scrambling on his hands and knees.
The elderly man stared at him. "Son, you just made it ten times worse."
Another pulse. Another penalty.
[Karmic Battery: -1 Unit]
[Action: Creating problems to solve them]
[Total Charge: -2/100(Tier-0)]
But Dean was persistent. He'd cracked tougher challenges than this. The key was finding the right approach—maximum karma for minimum effort while looking natural.
He stationed himself near a busy crosswalk, watching for opportunities. A jogger with untied shoelaces approached—perfect accident waiting to happen. Dean could swoop in, be the hero, collect his karma.
The jogger got closer. Dean timed his move perfectly, stepping into the path just as the shoelace caught. The jogger stumbled, Dean reached out to steady her, and—
Her momentum carried them both into the street. Car horns blared. Brakes squealed. Dean found himself staring at a taxi grille with "LAWSUIT" written all over it.
"MOVE!" someone shouted.
Dean and the jogger rolled out of the way as the taxi skidded past, missing them by inches. The jogger—a fit woman in her thirties—got to her feet and glared at him with pure rage.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" she demanded. "I could have been killed!"
"I was trying to help—"
"Help?" She gestured at the taxi, whose driver was now leaning out his window to add his own colorful commentary. "You nearly got us both killed!"
Dean felt the pulse again, but this time it came with bonus sensations. His vision blurred. His knees went weak. The world tilted sideways.
[Karmic Battery: -7 Units]
[Action: Reckless endangerment disguised as altruism]
[Total Charge: -9/100(Tier-0)]
[WARNING: Continued Negative Karma accumulation will result in backlash]
"Karmic backlash?" Dean sat heavily on the curb, head spinning. "There's a penalty system? What is this, the IRS of good deeds?"
The jogger was already halfway down the block, probably texting about psycho pedestrians. Dean decided this was an excellent time to be somewhere else.
He found a bench in a small park, looking like he'd been hit by the ethics police. His reflection in a nearby puddle showed someone who'd clearly made some poor life choices.
"Okay," Dean said to his reflection. "So fake good deeds don't count. The system can tell the difference between helping and helping-for-profit."
He thought about the elderly woman from yesterday—the one who'd given him his first karma point. He hadn't been trying to game anything. He'd just seen someone who needed help and helped them. No agenda, no strategy, no ulterior motive.
Just basic human decency.
"Well, shit," Dean muttered. "This is going to be harder than I thought."
A young mother walked past, pushing a stroller while juggling coffee, a diaper bag, and what looked like a small tornado disguised as a toddler. She looked exhausted and about three seconds from a complete meltdown.
Dean's first instinct was to analyze the situation. Calculate karma potential. Plan his approach.
Then he stopped himself.
The woman reached the park gate just as her coffee cup finally gave up the fight with gravity. Brown liquid splashed everywhere, the cup rolling toward a storm drain. The toddler, sensing weakness, chose that moment to escape from the stroller and make a break for freedom.
Dean moved without thinking. Not calculating, not planning, just reacting. He scooped up the running toddler with one arm, grabbed the rolling cup with the other, and handed both back to the mother.
"Thank you," she said, looking genuinely surprised. "That was—thank you."
"No problem," Dean said, and meant it.
This time, the pulse in his chest felt different. Warmer. More natural. Like something clicking into place.
[Karmic Battery: +1 Unit]
[Action: Spontaneous assistance]
[Total Charge: -8/100(Tier-0)]
Dean watched the woman walk away, wrestling her child back into the stroller with practiced efficiency. He'd helped someone who needed help. No angles, no agenda, no manipulation. Just basic human kindness.
"Okay," Dean said to whatever was keeping score. "I think I'm starting to get it."
Dean sat on the park bench, watching life unfold around him.
An old man tossed crumbs to pigeons, hands trembling but steady in rhythm. A girl walked her dog, letting it inspect every tree like it had a job to do. A construction worker sat alone on a bench across the way, unwrapping a sandwich with the tired ease of someone who’d earned their break.
Just people. Living. Struggling. Getting by.
Dean had been so busy trying to "game" the system, he’d forgotten the obvious—these weren’t NPCs. They were people. That mom with the runaway toddler? Not a quest prompt. Just someone who needed help. Like he had, plenty of times.
He stood slowly, brushing off his jacket. No more scanning crowds for “good deed XP.” He just walked. Let himself feel the city.
At the subway entrance, a woman dropped her metro card. Dean bent down, handed it to her. No hesitation, no internal scoreboard. Just instinct.
As he moved through the crowd, something shifted—quiet, but sure. For the first time since landing in this comic-book fever dream, he didn’t feel lost. Not because of the powers or the glowing tech on his wrist.
But because he finally remembered what it meant to be human.
"Who knew ethics could be so complicated?" Dean said to himself, then paused. "Actually, probably everyone except me."
A pigeon landed nearby and gave him what looked like a judgmental stare.
"Yeah, yeah," Dean told the pigeon. "I get it. I'm a slow learner."
The pigeon cooed dismissively and flew away, probably to find someone with better moral instincts.
Dean laughed despite himself and kept walking. Maybe being a hero wasn't about gaming the system after all. Maybe it was just about being willing to help when help was needed.
Revolutionary concept, really.
