“Hold the franking phone!” I said. “Are you telling me there’s a way to shut this shit off? And you’re just telling me now?!”

  If Dickhead had been holding out on me this entire time, I was going to be franking pissed. I stared at the ceiling, waiting for an answer.

  “You’re not going to like it,” he warned.

  “Oh, I think I will.” He clearly didn’t understand how much I loved that franking word.

  “It’s a QoL.”

  I made a fist and cursed, “Goddammit!”

  Dickhead had been right. I hated microtransactions with a burning passion. They ruined everything from video games to dating apps. Pay to advance was the dumbest shit ever.

  Back in the day, you’d hand over twenty bucks and have a complete experience—hours of fun for a reasonable, one-time payment. None of this early access crap with never-ending DLCs that should’ve been in the franking game to begin with.

  It was a time before those greedy corporate cucks had their little wet dream of a Pay-to-Win business model.

  Bullshit. It was all bullshit.

  I let out a disgruntled grunt and checked my credit balance. It was under another new Category called Inventory.

  Excluding my blood-stained clothes, I had 2,093 credits and one severed arm to my name.

  “I’m guessing the QoL costs more than a couple thousand credits…”

  “A bit,” Dickhead said reluctantly.

  It sounded like he empathized with me. Poor bastard was probably getting screwed by the System same as me.

  “No use putting it off,” I said, bringing up my Menu.

  Dickhead didn’t have to point me to it. It was the only one they’d animated. It pulsed in giant, hot-pink lettering that read Quality of Life.

  I felt dirty selecting it.

  Their thinly veiled micro-transaction menu was a mess, like a gacha game had vomited glitter and sex across the entire screen. Dancing icons, gyrating buttons, and flashing arrows were everywhere. It was an all-you-can-click buffet of bad decisions.

  Honestly, I was amazed I didn’t have a seizure looking at the damn thing. And holy shit, the waifus. They bolted boobs onto everything: demon goat girls, busty goblins, full-figured specters. Why the frank would they put tits on a ghost? They’re incorporeal!

  But the nonsensical sexualization didn’t stop there. They put empty, busty breastplates on skeletons just so they’d have the illusion of cleavage. They went balls deep with all the scantily clothed monstergirls humping the subsection banners.

  I watched a formless puddle of slime with perfectly perky tits jiggle on the screen for far longer than I should’ve. Not that it did anything for me, but because of the absurdity of it all.

  I scrolled down but couldn’t escape from the floating, boobed swords or the floating, boobed shields. Hell, there were just floating boobs.

  But it wasn’t just a visual assault; slogans played aloud as I perused.

  “Enhance your journey with streamlined options for competitive survival!” an enthusiastic voice said.

  “Everything you need to stop sucking, avoid dying, and level up your game!” a deeper, more insistent voice said.

  Then they switched it up on me. An overly sexualized female voice said, “Not for the faint of funds, baby,” and then let out a moan.

  Even more followed.

  “Welcome to Quality of Life! Because dying is such a hassle.”

  “Convenience is just a credit away!”

  “Jesus franking Christ,” I said, unable to take it anymore. “What the frank is wrong with these people?”

  I saw a tiny symbol that looked like a speaker and tapped that shit fast as I could. I didn’t care if it teleported me to some other place, as long as it shut them the hell up. Thank God it was the mute button.

  There were a bunch of subsections to choose from.

  Popular!

  Unstuck: 999 credits

  What are you doing, step-player?! Don’t worry, we won’t tell… for a nominal price.

  Helping Hand (AP): 4,999 credits

  For players without hands. A floating NCA hand so you can get handsy! Fear no door or unopened pickle jar ever again!

  Tap to show more…

  Limited-Time Offers

  Head Start Starts Now! 1-hour 10% XP booster: 999 credits

  Gotta pump those numbers!

  Head Start Starts Now! 1-hour 10% Gold booster: 999 credits

  More money, less problems!

  Tap to show more…

  New!

  Gender Swap: 9,999 credits

  “Why be you, when you can be her?”

  Race Swap: 39,999 credits

  ERROR—OverPriced_Vanity_Function_1_Shop_Asset(3) not applicable for this World Dungeon.

  Tap to show more…

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Featured!

  Class Swap: 49,999 credits

  Franked up? Let’s get you un-franked!

  Auto Sell: 4,999 credits

  Tired of selling piecemeal? We’ve engineered this purchase for you!

  Tap to show more…

  Cosmetic Exclusives!

  Glitterskin: 4,999 credits

  Sparkle in the sunlight!

  Human Ears: 1,999 credits

  Miss your old pair? Pamper yourself with the nostalgia you deserve.

  Tap to show more…

  Deep Discounts!

  Re-spawn (AP): 4,849 credits (was 4,999, that’s 99% priced!)

  You can sleep when you’re dead, and you can stay dead when you’re debt-free!

  Gravekey Cooldown Reduction, level 2: 9,899 credits (was 9,999, that’s 99% priced!)

  Requires Gravekey Cooldown Reduction, level 1.

  Tap to show more…

  All!

  Tap to show all…

  Favorites!

  None. Go add some!

  Tap to show more…

  Why is Favorites on the bottom? I wondered. That’s so inconvenient…

  I asked about the latest acronym. “What does AP stand for?”

  “Auto purchases. They automatically get charged to your account if you qualify.”

  “What if I don’t want to re-spawn?”

  “Then I suggest you don’t die. Speaking of which, we need to get you some more brains before you decay into the negative again. That’s how you lost your arm. It’s a lot easier to dismember or mutilate a body once it drops into negative Vitality.”

  “Noted.”

  I was tired of searching through the QoLs and finally asked, “Dick, where’s the filter thingy?”

  My screen scrolled on its own as Dickhead brought it up for me.

  Profanity Filter Toggle: 4,999 credits

  *Unlock the ability to toggle your profanity filter on or off.

  Profanity filter can only be toggled while inside your Lair.

  Feeling censored? Oppressed? Freedom of speech is just a QoL away!

  Tap here to add to Favorites…

  I saw the price and nearly lost my shit.

  “What the frank, man? Seriously? Five thousand credits?! For a goddamn chat toggle?”

  “4,999 credits is a pretty common price for a basic QoL,” Dickhead said.

  Clearly, it was a rip-off. But it was also the only thing I wanted. I’d already gotten a couple thousand credits, so what’s another few thousand?

  I decided I’d get my franking word back and then I’d chill in my Lair until some schmuck beat the World Dungeon.

  I tried to clap my hands together and get started but forgot about my earlier mishap and whiffed.

  I sighed and asked, “Alright, Dick, what’s the fastest way to earn credits?”

  “World-first chests and achievement milestones are your only options. Unless you can get another player to trade you their credits willingly. You Know Who won’t let them do it under duress.”

  “I should have one more World-first chest waiting for me, and then I guess it’s grinding for milestones.” That was my game plan anyway.

  Dickhead didn’t answer right away. “Right, sorry. I forget you can’t see me without a QoL. I was nodding.”

  “There’s a microtransaction for the System equivalent of FaceTime?”

  “Better actually. I’d be able to accompany you as an incorporeal hologram.”

  He was annoying enough as a voice in my head. It was already bad enough that I’d given him a name. Nope. Both our lives would be better off if he stayed a faceless Dickhead.

  I went over to the Lair terminal and tapped on the only reward on the screen. At first, I thought I was missing another Common chest reward from the questline, but not all quests granted you a chest.

  The System said, “All That Glitters! Now that’s some shiny shit, all sparkly and pretty like. Some people are lucky, but not you. Luck’s got nothing to do with it. You simply know that fortune favors the brave. You have earned a reward for being the first player to open a celestial chest in the World Dungeon. Enjoy your new title: RNGesus!”

  I knew the drill, spun around, and kicked the glowing blue chest open.

  [You’ve gained: 1,000 credits. Total credits: 3,093.]

  Excellent, I was already 60% of the way there.

  “What’s next?” I asked. “Any other easy World-firsts to tackle?”

  “There isn’t exactly a leaderboard to check, and I know of only one World-first achievement that hasn’t been completed.”

  I knew he was talking about the Tutorial boss. Everyone was probably gunning for it.

  “But you’re nowhere near ready to even attempt it. Normally, I’d suggest we hit the Tutorial level cap, find a group, and gear up before you try it. Especially since failure likely means an extended time out in your Lair for the rest of the expansion.”

  Honestly, that last part didn’t sound so bad to me.

  “I still think our best bet is to find a group and grind for gear. At least then we’d have some other players to compare stats and see when your FrankUp coins get you to whatever Limit Breaker’s equivalent to level ten is.”

  The only problem was I didn’t work well with others. Somehow, Dickhead still hadn’t picked up on that yet.

  “Either way,” I said. “I think we can both agree I need to get to town and have them reattach my damn arm.”

  “Agreed. That and the Pinnacle Instance doesn’t open until the second week.”

  I looked around. Other than the Lair terminal, GodFather’s remains in the corner, and the vending machine, there wasn’t a way out.

  I brought up the Player Housing submenu again while I asked a passing question.

  “What’s the vending machine for?”

  “Providing overpriced meals. It costs a hundred credits per use and will provide you with something your race, or class in this case, can eat. Also, it’s another automatic purchase. You Know Who will automatically purchase you a meal if it detects you’re in danger of starving.”

  I changed my mind about being stuck inside my Lair. Going into galactic debt sounded like a shitty time. And it looked all too easy to do with their QoLs and APs.

  “I bet they charge an obscene interest rate to keep everyone shackled to their debt too.”

  “It’s universal. All galactic debt is capped at 1% interest.”

  “That’s… not actually half bad. 1% per year?”

  “Year?” Dickhead laughed. “Oh no, that’d be silly. It’s per decade.”

  “Are you franking kidding me?!” I couldn’t believe it. Dickhead was trying to tell me that galactic interest rate was fixed at 1% per decade?

  “I’ve got a credit card that’s 22.73%. Annually,” I muttered.

  “Barbaric…” Dickhead said in disgust.

  Maybe there’d be something good out of Earth getting turned into a World Dungeon after all.

  Speaking of credit cards, another idea popped into my head that might solve almost everything.

  “How do I get a loan?”

  “You mean trigger an AP?”

  “No, like borrow enough credits to buy the profanity QoL.”

  “You can’t. It’s not an AP. You’re not allowed to go into debt unless it’s for a purchase approved by the Galactic Senate.”

  “Are you telling me there’s some space council who voted on whether monster players with no hands in a World Dungeon should be forced to purchase a goddamn cantrip, just so they could open a stupid door again?”

  “Yes.”

  “We’re monsters, Dick! We can just knock them down.”

  “I’m just your manager, Frank. I don’t get a vote.”

  “Also, that is a very specific piece of legislation to be voting on. Didn’t you say this is the first World Dungeon that franked up the monster and NPC classes?”

  Dickhead waited a moment, and said, “Sorry, I’m nodding again.”

  “So I can’t willingly borrow money, but they can force me into debt against my will, as long as some aliens voted on it? This just keeps getting better.”

  “Frank it. It is what it is. How do I get back to the World Dungeon?” I’d already tried tapping on the gravekey, but it did nothing, and I didn’t want to tell him.

  Dickhead sighed, and not a pleasant-sounding one either.

  “Just tell me.”

  “You remember the order of the plan I had mentioned before?”

  “Yeah. Eat some brains, go to town, get to my Lair, and open some chests. What about it?”

  “That’s not… never mind. We needed to go to town before your Lair to get a Hearthrune and set your Hearth at the tavern.”

  “Alright. Then let’s go do that now.”

  “We can’t.”

  My patience grew shorter with each question. “Why not?”

  “Because you need to use a Hearthrune to leave your Lair.”

  Shit.

  I stewed over that bit of information for a minute.

  “Well, that’s a rubbish design,” I finally said.

  “While I agree with you, it’s just how it works.”

  “I guaran-damn-tee I’m not the first schmuck to frank it up. What do we do now?”

  “You’re not going to like it…”

  I really wished he’d stop saying that.