In Another World With My Character Sheet

Moments before, I was Anon Ibid, your typical blank-slate wet blanket protagonist with an implausible and ridiculous name for readers to project themselves onto, sitting alone and rolling up a character sheet for a role-playing game left to the reader’s imagination, when I was struck dead by a truck carrying an entire filthy local game store’s worth of merchandise that surprisingly burst through the ceiling of my parents’ basement, crushing me in agonising torment that lasted for hours, with no respite as nobody really cared enough to search the wreckage. After a protracted death scene, I met the big GM in the sky, who just looked at me in that special way they have just before a player kill, and reincarnated me in the middle of some damp shithole in another world with only the semen-stained boxers, vest and character sheet I was wearing at the moment of final expiration.

Having trained my entire life for this moment by consuming endless amounts of weeaboo trash cartoons, I took stock of the situation in a heartbeat and, lacking the immediate appearance of waifu-bait, determined the best course of action would be to nervously power walk in one direction until I got out of Swamp Damp Shithole and found some dry ground. This took longer than expected, owing to frequent breaks to allow for curling into the foetal position and mewling in pain while being bitten by mosquitoes, paying the blood-price to leeches etcetera, but eventually I made it into an idyllic forest clearing and was able to rest, having lost only half of my vital fluids. Determining this would be a good moment to take stock of what miraculous and game-breaking powers my reincarnation had bestowed upon me, I spent the last hours of the afternoon in another world yelling and gesticulating in an attempt to bring up the inevitable VR/magic display screen/tutor AI/goddess that accidentally followed me down to earth etcetera, to no avail, before feeling very stupid and looking at the crumpled, sweat stained character sheet I hadn’t let go of since being flattened by a truck carrying the average fa/tg/uy’s weight in pokemon cards and space marine parts sprues.

Back in my basement, I hadn’t even got beyond writing my own name at the top of the sheet, but here it was filled to completion with absolute garbage, which I correctly assumed was my natural statistics. Hunting for what I knew must be there, I finally found the list of special abilities… Containing one ability, “roll the dice”.
This absolute basic trash must have come from the popular forum game of the same name – roll the dice (or die, if you want to be pedantic and irritating), if it’s a one, it’s bad, if it’s a six, it’s good. Anything in between? Maybe the GM uses a sliding scale, maybe it doesn’t matter. So - testing.
I pick up a stick and throw it at a nearby tree, with predictably poor aim. I do it again, this time yelling in my best Nippon-american dub voice “Rollu the dice-u!”
A momentary vision of a D6 spun across my eyes like the world’s most annoying pop-up advert for a casino, blocking my view for a split second before landing on a six – the stick flew straight and true from my hand and hit the exact spot on the tree I was aiming at, before clattering to the forest floor. I was rather disappointed – usually, the main character gets some bullshit superpower that completely negates any challenge from the get-go. I was expecting the stick to barrel through the tree-trunk like butter, at the very least. Not act according to the regular, boring laws of physics. Another set of testing with the stick followed until I rolled a one, causing the stick to rebound and give me a smart whack about the arm… At least I didn’t put an eye out or anything. There seemed to be no limit to what you could roll for, so long as it was context-appropriate and achievable – the system briefly augmented my own movements, in order to for example, accurately throw a stick.

 The sun had begun to set, so I decided to put the power to use doing something I hadn’t been able to in at least a decade and climbed a tree, without any critical failures or broken bones. As high as I could get, I was afforded a decent view of the surrounding area.
The swamp and the forest that surrounded it turned out to be no more than a few miles in diameter and isolated in the middle of rolling plains and fields… It figures I would be dumped in there. Quite nearby, I spied with my sore and probably malaria-yellow eyes, a small farmstead within walking distance. My goal set, I began my journey with only occasional missteps into poison ivy, pointy twigs and perilous, ankle-twisting holes, eventually reaching the edge of the forest, which showed signs of cultivation and tree-felling, although no helpful woodsmen were in sight. The rest of the walk to the farmstead was more safely conducted, chief hazards to avoid being irrigation ditches, hedges and the occasional pungent evidence of livestock grazing. Drawing closer, I was able to observe and indulge in needless description of the rural abode.

It was a run-down compound of rude wood, thatch and wattle, flaking daub and plaster in places, composed of a small barn and hay loft, several heaps of manure and compost mercifully distant from the house itself, which sat opposite the barn and was in best repair and of decent size, sporting a second floor and a neat herb garden in the rear, a well as a quaint well and pulley. The courtyard framed by rude fencing was strewn with detritus, from a derelict cart to large wood piles laid in for winter. In short, the place had seen better days, but was still well-used and kept. Following convention, I ought to meet within a buxom milkmaid capable of instantaneously generating new stains upon my boxers, who would take me in with no questions asked, accepting completely my tale of reincarnation and falling into deep yet polygynous love with me within seconds of meeting.

Instead, I met…