THE MECH TOUCH
Chapter 1: Age of Mechs.
They called this era the Age of Mechs.
It was not as if the introduction of mechs replaced other weapons of war. In the galactic war against the alien races that sought to wipe out humanity, warships and weapons of mass destruction still played an essential role.
Yet a nuclear bomb was too destructive if used against humans. Alien races could easily pick up a bargain if humanity constantly weakened themselves to settle internal grudges.
These pointless wars would only end when humanity united all of its separate fiefs. Many visionaries have attempted to do so, and succeeded, up to a point.
Peace never lasted. N0v3lRealm was the platform where this chapter was initially revealed on N0v3l.B1n.
The human race had an inborn tendency to fall apart. The grand enterprise of unity failed time and time again.
So people separated, still loosely allied by their common ancestral heritage, but with nothing else in common. Wars continued, but a complex web of treaties limited the destruction of essential war materiel. The human race stood a better chance of resisting alien incursions once it stopped destroying their own settlements and warships.
"It’s all fine and dandy to conquer your neighbor’s planet. At the very least, don’t bring out the big guns and please lease the expensive stuff in space intact."
Not the best solution, but somehow humanity muddled through.
With the stagnation of naval battles, ground warfare took on new significance. Infantry, tanks and artillery enjoyed a resurgence of popularity as the fractious human race fought over their own territory.
Naturally, any invaders didn’t have it easy. Forced to operate on enemy soil, the conflicts often devolved into wars of attrition.
Even if the invaders painstakingly triumphed over their enemies, was it worth the effort? They would find out in dismay that they lost more money from their army than what they gained in territory.
Most of the warmongers realized that waging war was a money-losing business.
"Just as planned." The pacifists thought as they patted their backs. The treaties had been extensively drafted for just such an outcome. Without the tools to threaten a planet into a quick surrender, the warmongers had to rely on old and inefficient technology in order to conquer territories.
It turned out the peace lovers celebrated too early.
Ever since the legendary Mack Liu first stepped on the battlefield with a giant humanoid machine called a ’mech’, war had changed forever. It advanced into a whole new paradigm.
Able to perform ably in even the most inhospitable planets, the first mechs made a mockery of the slow-paced and static way of war of traditional armies.
"The human body is the best weapon of humans." One of the lead inventors of the modern war mech remarked after the first models blitzed half a massive nation’s territory. "Everyone knows that infantry is flexible but fragile while tanks are tough but clumsy. So one day we thought, why not make a new weapon that takes the human form and simply scale it up?"
It resulted in a revolutionary weapon that charmed humans across the galaxy for its evocative look and inspiring capabilities.
Faster than infantry, more flexible than tanks and able to carry a variety of weapons, they nonetheless required much less supplies to keep them running. Their logistical footprint was a fraction of what a conventional army gobbled up. This alone ensured that mechs dethroned all other service branches.
The Age of Mechs unfolded into splendor. Broadcasts surrounding mechs earned record views. Online and offline games brought the masses closer the glamorized new machines. Major arms manufacturers invested in the rapidly growing mech industry. Countless startups offering their own unique takes on the mechs popped up like mushrooms.
The Age of Mechs seemed to herald humanity into a new golden age.
Unfortunately, only a small number of elites could step into the true world of mechs. The most basic mech models involved hundreds of patents and other proprietary knowledge that would cost a fortune to license.
Those interested in piloting an authentic war mech also needed the right genes. The highly arcane neural interface that allowed pilots to control their mechs as natural as moving their own bodies could only be piloted by a gifted handful. Those who ignored the warnings fried their brains.
It took a long time for researchers to establish a clear view of how many people possessed the right potential. From the latest statistics, only a mere 3.5 percent of all of humanity possessed the right genetics to successfully connect to a neural interface. These privileged elites, tested for compatibility from their tenth birthday, enjoyed admiration and worship from the 96.5 percent who were doomed to never step into a cockpit.
Not all of the 3.5% would actually go on to pilot a mech, but even the poorest potentate from the most backwater planet had to undergo training. Once they gained a basic proficiency in piloting, they were added to the reserves. Just in case.
Ves Larkinson was born with the conviction that he belonged in the cockpit. His father was a mech pilot. His grandfather also piloted mechs. He could name at least nine direct ancestors who all served honorably in the Bright Republic’s renowned Mech Corps. Most of his aunts, uncles and the rest of the extended Larkinson family had a long history of piloting mechs.
"Dad, what’s it like to be a pilot?"
"It’s dangerous, but it’s also the only time I feel alive."
His tenth birthday changed his life. His entire world crashed down on him once the doctor from the Republic announced the results. His genetics marked him as one of the 96.5 percent. In other words, he was a plebeian, a norm. No matter which word was in vogue, Ves became a commoner doomed to never to enter a cockpit in his life.
"There’s nothing dishonorable about having different genes." The doctor reassured the young Ves. He had already crushed the dreams of countless kids. One more hardly fazed him at all. "No one is good at everything. The rest of the 96.5% get by just fine. Find some passion in your capabilities. Not everyone is destined to follow their father’s footsteps."
His father, Ryncol Larkinson, half-hearted patted the young Ves’ back as he gave him an ice cream. What else could he do? His frequent tours of duty left Ves to wallow in his depression alone.
And so Ves turned from a precocious boy who dreamed about mechs into a sullen teenager drowning himself in games and partying. With a deceased mother and a father absent from frequent tours of service, no one could rein Ves in. He graduated from high school with less-than-stellar grades.
"What now?"
Ves finally pieced himself together once he considered his future. He couldn’t waste away his life forever.
"I’m not a pilot. I’m never going to be a pilot. All I really know is mechs. If I am never fated to pilot a mech, then I can still do something else. I’m still a Larkinson. Mechs are in my blood."
Ves narrowed his goals. If he couldn’t pilot a mech, then he’d be the one to make them.
In the Age of Mechs, a mech designer led the development of mechs. Just as crucial as mech pilots, they came up with innovative designs of mechs and shaped them into reality. Some of these designers were just as famous as the aces who achieved incredible feats with their mechs.
Some of the most prestigious designers worked for the major arms manufacturers. They were able to deftly spit out a casual new design that would be sold a million times.
These were the star designers, the superstars who had CEOs and head of states at their beck and call. Even a casual sneeze could impact the stock prices of the companies they worked at, for they were just too influential. Many of the larger human states relied on their exclusive designs to give them an edge in conflicts involving mechs.
Then came the middle class of the mech designers, the entrepreneurs with at least a complete series of mech designs. Adept in all facets of what constituted a mech, these seasoned engineers could take a pile of random parts and come up with unique designs that filled most of the conventional roles any decent client demanded. Some designers focused on churning out loads of mechs at the most affordable cost, while others might spend their whole lives on a single model.
What was left was the bottom heap. About ninety percent of all designers fell into this category. This included the fresh graduates, the failed entrepreneurs and the washed-out old timers with outdated knowledge. They couldn’t design anything other than ripoffs or blatant copies of more successful models. Most of these dregs were doomed to served as faceless cogs, working behind the scenes to repair or maintain other people’s mechs.
The lucky ones still get to be involved in mech design by fulfilling a niche in customization. They took existing mechs and changed them in little ways, or licensed an old, existing design and added their own flair to it. The cutthroat competition in the saturated market didn’t allow many to stay afloat for long. Only some got by with this business model.
Ves hoped to be one of them. With his so-so grades, he could forget about attending a prestigious university. He only managed to scrape enough merits to attend a program offered by the Rittersberg University of Technology, an average institution from the Bright Republic’s capital.
All he got five years later was a bland degree from a bland institution. In other words, he was worthless in the eyes of employers.
That was okay. His father Ryncol supported him all the way through. He even spent much of his time gathering the capital to kick start his son’s business.
They both had a plan. They would start a one-man mech boutique with enough automation to print its own parts and allow Ves to assemble a mech from scratch. Ryncol would refer him to his buddies in the service for cheap jobs and let Ves dip into the world of customization step by step. Once Ves built up his reputation, he might be able to move on to designing his own variants.
All those plans came crashing down when Ves returned to an empty home back in Cloudy Curtain, their home planet. Ryncol enjoyed a good salary as a mech pilot, so he could afford a grand townhouse in the suburbs. He recently sold it in order to scrape enough cash to acquire a workshop just outside of town. It only offered enough space for a small living area.
The workshop could use a makeover. The modular, prefabricated structure looked second hand, as if it was salvaged off a battlefield or scrap yard. With the amount of rust and scratches its exterior sported, it was a miracle it hadn’t fallen apart.
When Ves stepped inside, he sighed in relief. The essentials were still in one shape. The insides looked fairly clean. All of the valuable machines needed to run his enterprise were present, if second hand. His dad might not know his stuff, be he knew plenty of people who did.
"Where are you, dad?"
After weeks of silence, Ves had to face the fact that his dad was missing. That shouldn’t be a cause for alarm. His dad had been assigned to a regiment stationed at the border between the Bright Republic and the belligerent Vesia Kingdom. Any incidents that might flare up could cause his father to be recalled.
When Ves called his father’s friends, he found out he never returned to duty! After contacting the police, it seemed that Ryncol had never shown his face elsewhere. All the galactic calls and electronic messages sent to his father fell off a cliff. No one could find any trace of his presence.
The Cloudy Curtain Planetary Bank quickly came knocking. It turned out the workshop components such as the spiffy 3D printer had been bought with a loan. A 3D printer was an essential machine that turned raw materials into factory quality mech parts.
His father had to borrow over 330 million bright credits in order to finance the acquisition of assets. With this much money, anyone could buy half-a-dozen advanced mechs!
Ves could spend his lifetime working for an average mech manufacturer and still not earn enough to pay back the huge debt. He instantly fell into a cycle of distress and panic when he read through the bank’s polite but impersonal note.
"What kind of mess did my father drag me into?"
The bank took three pages to state that all of the debt was in his name. He would have to hand over the workshop and all of its valuable machinery in case he missed a single annual interest payment.
In short, Ves had to scrounge up about five million credits in the next three months in order to meet the next payment. He lifted up his armband-shaped communicator and activated its miniature projector. A screen came into view that displayed a menu. He hopelessly switched to the credit account linked to the device.
His account only held a measly twelve-hundred credits. That was his spending money for the month.
Ves had little means of earning the required amount of money. With his dad gone missing, it was questionable whether Ves was entitled to the life insurance and other benefits his father arranged. Ves followed up his father’s insurance policy because he needed every penny he could squeeze out of the system.
Nothing came out of the meetings. The insurance company was as obstinate as a dog chewing a bone.
Ves swiped away the latest messages from the bank. "I’m broke. I can’t even scrounge up the credits to buy the raw materials I need to fabricate new parts. How am I suppose to do business?"
Within a day, he called the bank, the insurance company and the government. What he got back wasn’t good.
The bank had already written Ves off. They wanted to get their claws on the workshop before Ves screwed something up and depreciated its value. The only useful thing he received from the bank was a package that Ryncol stashed at the bank in case he got out of touch.
The insurance company claimed that Ryncol was merely missing in action at worst. As an active serviceman, he might return months or years later, so Ves was not entitled to a single penny until the company received solid proof that he had died. If not, the money would only be released after a period of five years.
The government was its usual bureaucratic self. Ves only heard lots of incomprehensible jargon before he plainly hung up. He’d get nothing useful there.
Ves was alone.
His dad had gone off to the deep end, leaving Ves to pick up the pieces. His father only left him with a lousy package with a casual note pasted in front.
"To my son Ves, in case I’m not home."
Opening it up, Ves was mildly surprised to pick up a secure data chip. Most data transfers today occurred entirely wirelessly. People only used data chips when they absolutely had to keep their contents secure.
Ves turned off his comm’s connection to the galactic net before accessing the old data chip.
It took three seconds to load its contents, which was unusually long for a chip this size. An unknown program suddenly took over the holographic projection.
"Initializing the Mech Designer System. New user detected. Initiating deep scan in 2400 minicycles. Please prepare properly."
"Wait, what?" Ves asked the program, just before the comm released a huge shock. Ves passed out in an instant.
And so began his journey as a mech designer.
Chapter 2: Mech Designer System
When Ves woke up, he brushed a hand over his brown hair and wondered why he ended up on the floor.
"It was.. the data chip!"
Ves tried to find the data chip that dropped him like a log. After a quick search, he only came across a fried piece of metals and other melted bits. The chip self-destructed after following its programming. He bewilderingly turned his gaze to his wrist communicator, which was still in pristine condition.
"That’s strange. Anything that could have fried this chip should have melted my comm in the process. How could the chip have melted itself without transferring all that heat to my comm unit?"
Cautiously, Ves activated his comm, expecting it to malfunction. Instead, it turned online without a problem. After browsing the menu, he found that nothing changed except for the addition of one new program.
The Mech Designer System.
The name already sounded boastful. The act of designing mechs was an intricate discipline that required years of study in the fields of mechanics, physics, material science and more. Even after graduating from college, you merely got your foot through the door.
It took more than experience and brilliance for a mech designer to achieve true success. Just the thought of having a single app whip up a simple design in a matter of minutes rankled Ves. The mere thought of such a software devalued the five years he spent on becoming a mech designer.
Still... his father left him this ’System’ for a reason. Ves had no idea where Ryncol got his hands on this mysterious app. Since he couldn’t get anymore answers, Ves decided to run the app.
[Welcome to the Mech Designer System. Please design your new mech.]
The message ended there, leaving nothing for Ves to follow up. "That’s it?"
[Deep scan complete. Registering new user Ves Larkinson. Welcome package granted.]
"Uh, you got anything more than that?"
[Please inspect your Status. To display this page, say Status.]
"Status."
[Status]
Name: Ves Larkinson
Profession: Novice Mech Designer
Specializations: None
Design Points: 0
Attributes
Strength: 0.6
Dexterity: 0.7
Endurance: 0.6
Intelligence: 1.2
Creativity: 0.3
Concentration: 0.9
Neural Aptitude: F
Skills
[Assembly]: Novice
[Business]: Apprentice
[Computer Science]: Incompetent
[Mathematics]: Incompetent
[Mechanics]: Apprentice
[Metallurgy]: Apprentice
[Physics]: Novice
Evaluation: Good-for-nothing loser.
"Hey, who are you calling a loser!?"
[User Ves Larksinson is a qualified loser for having spent half of your life wasting away your life. Your frequent diversions have left you ill-prepared for the future. Your inability to pay off your debt is a direct consequence of your ineptitude.]
Ves had to suppress the urge to raise his middle finger. Instead, he challenged this stupid System. "I admit, I used to be a stupid kid, but I cleaned up my act. I’m a mech designer now!"
[It is your lucky day! The Mech Designer System is the ultimate tool in this galaxy to design any machine that falls under the category of mechs. Any authorized user is allowed to use this System’s many tools to design any mech imaginable with no conceivable limits.]
Who would believe such shameless boasting. "So can I just whip up something that weighs a thousand tons, runs at mach 50 and can even travel faster-than-light?"
[Certainly user, but you must design its components and integrate them into a viable design by yourself. If you then wish to fabricate the design using the System, then you will be required to exchange a corresponding energy value expressed in Design Points.]
It sounded ridiculous that a piece of software can just wish a mech into existence with energy alone. "How many Design Points does it take to fabricate a mech. How easy can I earn these points anyway?"
[An average mech requires 1,445,645,313 Design Points in order to be fabricated accurately. Calculating your current combination of attributes and skills. After estimating your capabilities, you are able to earn an average of 3.89 Design Points per day.]
Ves was literally speechless. The System disparaged him again in a roundabout way.
"You seem pretty useless. How am I suppose to get some use out of you if I can only earn about four DP a day?"
[...]
"Yeah, I thought so." Ves muttered quietly. His finger already hovered over his comm, ready to shut down this useless app.
[User, please do not exit the program yet. You have yet to explore the menu, nor have you opened up your welcome package.]
"Okay, so give me a menu then."
[Mech Designer System Menu]
Status
Designer
Missions
Skill Tree
Shop
Lottery
Inventory
"User, as a Novice Mech Designer, your privileges are limited. You currently do not have access to the Missions, Shop and Lottery menu."
Ves browsed the Designer option first. The System unfolded into a vast holographic design interface that seemed to be ripped off from a popular design suite that Ves had frequently used in his student days. The System’s version came with a lot of additional features, though Ves wasn’t in the mood to explore them right now.
The Skill Tree unfolded even more elaborately, taking up a panoramic view. The most fundamental skills sat at the top. It started with the most basic fields such as mechanics and mathematics. Beneath them nested an unfolding expanse of sub-skills that seemingly went on forever. He could upgrade skills as diverse as artistic judgment.
This Skill Tree alone appeared way too fantastical and unreal. How could anyone improve themselves with the press of a button? All it took to upgrade his skills was to spend a couple of so-called Design Points.
It was fairly uncanny that the system managed to map his current skills pretty accurately. Ves reserved his judgment for the moment. His father had to have a compelling reason to pass on this absurd piece of software to him. Ves refused to consider the System to be a work of fantasy.
He opened the inventory last. It appeared to be a typical, game-like interface except he couldn’t store or take out real-universe items. The inventory mainly dealt with storing designs and other virtual content, though it offered the option of storing real items later on.
Naturally, his inventory contained no designs, but he found the vaunted welcome package in the miscellaneous tab. He curiously tapped it with his finger.
The holographic box cheerfully opened up accompanied by the faux-celebratory fanfare prevalent in cheap online games. Three silhouettes floated in front of him, tempting his anticipation a tiny bit even as he remained skeptical of this System.
[Congratulations, you have received 10 Design Points. Please spend them well.]
"Just ten measly Design Points?" Ves exasperatingly questioned.
From browsing the previous menus, he learned that 10 Design Points was only worth peanuts to the System. With this amount, he could neither afford to increase his attributes or upgrade any skills. The paltry amount only afforded him enough to purchase a soda.
He then clicked the next silhouette which revealed three copper lottery tickets. It allowed him to draw three prizes from the system’s lowest-ranked lottery draw.
When Ves activated a ticket, the Lottery page projected a prize wheel. After staring at the wheel in doubt, he spun the large object by heaving a lever with his arm.
[You have failed to draw a prize from your copper lottery ticket. Please draw again.]
[You have failed to draw a prize from your copper lottery ticket. Please draw again.]
[You have failed to draw a prize from your copper lottery ticket. Please draw again.]
"Really, even the lottery tickets from the convenience store aren’t so stingy."
After using up the lottery tickets, The System’s final present unfolded. The silhouette faded away, revealing a small mechanical cat.
The pet displayed on the hologram seemed no different from any of the other artificial intelligences available on the galactic net. Popular with little girls around the galaxy, these virtual pets offered companionship and distraction without the hassle of taking care of a real animal.
"So you got me a virtual cat. Whoop-die-doo."
[You are mistaken user. This gold-ranked auxiliary companion is an extremely rare random draw from the welcome package. Congratulations on acquiring your new gem cat.]
The creature in front of Ves shifted. The holographic interface dimmed as the projection of the mechanical cat brightened.
The cat thudded on the floor with an audible thump. Just as Ves thought the System was tricking him, the cat meowed and physically brushed his leg with its very real body.
"What?"
This couldn’t be happening. The cat felt real. Ves bent down and put his hands around the light metallic shell of the cat and lifted it in front of his face. The cat questioningly purred as it beheld its new owner while Ves processed its appearance.
His communicator was just a basic model. It didn’t possess the fancy micro fabrication options that came with premium models.
Even if his comm turned into premium model overnight, it was impossible to fabricate a mechanical animal larger than a mosquito. His comm simply couldn’t store the required materials. Who knew how the cat came into existence. The System’s workings already broke the bounds of reality.
[Do not be surprised user. As the ultimate design tool for mechs, the Mech Designer System is able to utilize [REDACTED] to instantly fabricate any design or item you have exchanged at the shop at the cost of Design Points.]
Only until now did it sink in that Ves’ father had left him an impossibly amazing software. Though he understood very little so far, he was fairly certain that whoever created this System was light-years ahead of even the most advanced human scientists. He guessed that the System might be hiding some massive secrets, some of which may even involve alien technologies.
These questions were so far above Ves’ tiny head that he simply set them aside for the moment. He had more immediate concerns.
"This cat is kind of cute." Ves remarked as he scratched the mechanical creature’s head. "Is it supposed to do something more than beg for scratches and hugs?"
[Concentrate on the gem cat in order to call up its Status.]
[Pet Status]
Name: None
Owner: Ves Larkinson
Rank: Gold [Exclusive]
Level: 1
Skills
[Gem Excretion I]
"What kind of a skill is Gem Excretion?" N0v3lRealm was the platform where this chapter was initially revealed on N0v3l.B1n.
"Concentrate on the skill to see further details."
[Gem Excretion]
The ability to convert low value materials into rare gemstones of a higher value through manual absorption, digestion and excretion. These gemstones provide random benefits helpful to any mech that incorporates them into their design. Certain raw materials have a higher emphasis on the benefits that the resulting gemstones can express.
It took half a minute for the description to sink in with Ves. From what he could understand, this cat ate minerals digested it into gems. These gems ought to be quite valuable depending on their effects. He might be able to earn some quick cash if he sold these shiny gems.
[Do not overestimate the gem cat. At level 1, the pet can only excrete one gem per week.]
Ves sighed in disappointment. The cat booped his nose with its soft paw.
"Well I’m better off now than before, so I’ve got no grounds to complain. As for you, let me call you Lucky, since I’m counting on you to be my lucky charm."
The mech cat adorably meowed in response, indicating that its artificial intelligence possessed at least some form of low sentience.
Ves searched the cabinets of his workshop and scrounged up a pile of loose ore. The random materials were likely left by the previous owner that his father didn’t bother to tidy up when he bought them second-hand.
Ves took a head-sized chunk and the small cat somehow managed to gobble up the entire thing in a clear violation of the laws of physics. There was no way a normal mechanical cat could fit so much material in its cat-sized belly.
"Okay, this is clearly another freaky thing in a long list of impossibilities. No use cracking my head over these miracles. I’ve to take care of my money problem first."
Ves dropped the cat and left it to explore the workshop alone. he approached his desk and turned on the computer terminal in order to do some research.
He briefly went over the manuals of the machines in his workshop. He found that they were basic but reliable models, and didn’t differ much from what he used during his studies.
He then checked the prices of mechs, parts and raw materials at the public markets. Cloudy Curtain was just a regular boring residential planet, famed for its colorful clouds rather than any industry, so its mech market was anemic.
If Ves wanted to sell his products to a viable market, then he needed access to the bigger trading nodes nestled in the heart of the Bright Republic. Not anyone qualified to do so. Ves lacked both reputation and a track record. Even if he did gain access, he lacked the capital to acquire the raw resources needed to fabricate a mech.
"It takes money to to make money."
That was one of the most important lesson he learned in college. Surprisingly, he did quite well in his business classes. Ves owed this achievement due to his aspirations. It also helped that the classes only involved simple math.
After half a day of research, Ves gained a clearer idea on the viability of his new enterprise.
He gave up on producing a physical product. The areas of mech design, mech customization or mech fabrication all required substantial capital in order to step foot in them. He needed at least several million credits upfront.
The only economically viable market where he could realistically offer his services was in the field of mech repair and maintenance. However, his workshop was limited by its scale, and without a reputation he doubted he could attract any customers.
He needed to make a start in a market with a low barrier of entry, one that didn’t demand any prior investment. Ves made a resigned look at the section of games on his terminal.
IRON SPIRIT - The most exclusive galactic mech simulator in the galaxy!
Iron Spirit was not the most played online game on the market. However, its esports broadcasts attracted a very wide audience, allowing the game to foster a large and diverse creator’s market.
The reason for the game’s success could be attributed to its adherence to reality. Iron Spirit emulated reality so well that players had to buy or rent expensive simulation pods to pilot a mech. It turned the player base into an elitist club that served as a decent simulation to actual mech combat.
The BSBH Corporation stuck to the creed of realism so much that its virtual mechs had to be fabricated within its simulated ecosystem in a realistic manner. Only the mainstream mech models could be bought off-the-shelf.
The true high performing mechs in the game were all customized or original designs that could be sold for either gold, the virtual currency, or with real credits. Unlike piloting a virtual mech, Iron Spirit didn’t demand its designers to be a potentate, so even an average norm like Ves could engage in its virtual market.
As Ves registered a mech designer’s account in the game, he came across a few snags. He had to pony up a registration fee of 800 bright credits. This wiped out more than half of his remaining savings.
When the game approved his account, he encountered another barrier. Customizing any existing design required the purchase of a so-called virtual license. The licenses for the cheapest parts started at around 10,000 credits, while the licenses for the most outdated 1-star mechs were valued at 100,000 credits.
"I’m such an idiot for forgetting the licensing fees."
BSBH apparently didn’t want its virtual mech market to be flooded by a tsunami of awful designs.
With no other way out, Ves turned on his wrist communicator and started up the Mech Designer System. "Hey System, I don’t have the money to afford a virtual license. Can you lend me a hand?"
The System accessed his terminal through a wireless connection. It took only a dozen seconds to scan the entire game and absorb additional information from the galactic net.
[Tutorial mission received. Please enter the Missions page to browse the details.]
Ves obediently turned to the Missions page of the System.
[Mission]
Mission: Tutorial Part 1 - Your First Design
Difficulty: F-Rank
Prerequisites: Be an idiot who can’t solve his own problems.
Description:
As a mech designer, it is shameful that you have not completed a single design that is ready for sale. Use the Mech Designer System and the provided mech model to design a customized mech that has a minimum deviance of 10% and a performance improvement of 2% of its base model.
Reward: A random 1-star virtual mech license. A random 1-star virtual component license.
"This sounds doable. Can I ask how you’re able to reward me with those virtual licenses?"
[Nothing is impossible to the Mech Designer System. With enough Design Points, the user may even be able to achieve immortality. Please increase your mech designer rank for a more detailed answer.]
Yeah right. Ves guessed the System had some way of hacking into Iron Spirit’s servers. In order to preserve his sanity, Ves stopped his inquiry and instead turned his attention to the Designer mode.
It wasn’t until Ves saw what kind of licenses he had to work with that he practically spat out blood.
"This is impossible!"
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