Min-Maxing My TRPG Build in Another World - Volume 1 - Chapter 2

Summer of the Sixth Year

Expected Value

The number in the blank when you tell yourself, “I’m sure I’ll roll at least a ___.”

For 2D6 this is a 7, the mean outcome. As a result, many tabletop games balance their difficulty around these sorts of values.

However, probability only trends toward expected results after an infinite number of repetitions, so people with horrendous luck do still exist, and can be found everywhere.

I believe every person has a bad habit or two that they can’t seem to kick. My first was that I was impulsive. My second was that a full wallet tended to go to my head.

“Drat, where is he?”

“Come ooon, where are you, Erich?”

“He’s the last one left...”

And now, my irredeemable vice was on full display. I couldn’t believe I picked up Stealth, Perception Block, and Silent Steps all for hide-and-seek...!

I really am an utter moron. I can’t believe that I purchased skills because I was on the verge of being found and didn’t want to lose. There’s a limit to how wasteful I can be! To think that I was talking all high-and-mighty about the logical need for direction just a while ago... Where did that me go? 

This time, the skills I’d dipped into would continue to be useful in other situations, but at this rate I was bound to steer myself into ruin eventually. They were all lower level skills from the Martial Arts category. Unlike the job-specific skills of a hunter or assassin, these had been relatively inexpensive, so I just kept picking up one after another.

I’d stopped myself at III: Apprentice in each of them, but that alone blew away a full week’s worth of serious work at home. My lack of self-control was astounding.

I found myself in the woods on the outskirts of the canton. The early summer green that surrounded me wasn’t wholly natural, as the forest was preserved with replanting efforts, but that also meant the area was safer than most. Of course, it would be dangerous to stray near the woodcutters’ territory, but the forest was otherwise akin to a playground. This was where all the children of the canton came to play, and I was no exception. When I turned six, my parents had permitted me to venture out further from home, and I’d begun to mingle with my neighbors here.

Our game of choice was foxes-and-geese, a variant hybrid of hide-and-seek and tag. Simply put, each captured goose became a fox, meaning the pursuers grew in number with every catch. The rules were rather loosely defined, and abandoning your initial hiding spot was fair game. I heard a band of foxes with my Listening skill (another low level Martial Arts skill that was too perennially useful to be considered a waste...even if I jacked it up all the way to IV: Craftsman), so I activated Silent Steps to gingerly make my escape without rustling any of the scattered foliage.

Honestly, this ability to acquire skills was a literal godsend. Naturally, many traits were locked away behind prerequisite conditions, but I was able to unlock stealth-based skills all from a children’s game... Not only that, but I could now constantly earn experience points by leaving my skills on at all times.

I’d hoped to be able to abuse a system like this one day, but I never would have thought it was legitimately possible. It might have been one of those mechanics where experience points are dealt out depending on how serious the situation was—and considering how seriously I was taking this game, I could see why the rates were so high. A few more hours of hiding and I could pay off all my expenses.

...Of course, the fact that I was getting so heated over a game of hide-and-seek with children when I was nearing forty years of total age did gnaw at the back of my mind. For the moment, I decided to tell myself that this was all for the sake of earning more experience points. I would leave it to the growing number to prove my moral high ground. Still, I couldn’t allow myself to get conceited, or I risked the clasp of my purse becoming even looser than it already was. The thought that I might make an overeager purchase because of my current accelerated income terrified me. The memory of receiving a box full of pricey supplements long after I forgot about ordering them sent a cold sweat down my back.

I put some distance between myself and the other children to spend a moment honing my discipline, when suddenly I noticed something behind me. This something was no ghostly presence; I’d heard the faint, crisp crunch of a fallen leaf underfoot.

“Gotchaaa!” it cried, and that was the end for me.

“Whoa!”

The “something” leapt onto me from behind. I’d been squatting down, so the sudden impact made me tumble forward. I’m glad I leveled Endurance to VII: Exceptional and took Breakfall to V: Adept. I knew I could get hurt playing outside...

“Heh heh, you’re mine!” declared a cute little girl, peering into my eyes as I laid on the ground. Her charming, round face was adorned with large eyes and an adorably plump nose. This friendly face belonged to Margit, another child in the canton who was two years my senior.

“Urgh... Where did you come from...?” I groaned.

“Well, I figured you’d notice me if I made any sound, so I snuck up behind you as quietly as I could,” she said cheerfully. With a toothy smile, she added, “Mensch sure have it tough, not being able to see behind them and all.”

This girl with the dainty chestnut pigtails was not a mensch—not a human at all. To begin with, no breakfall would save me from injury if I had been tackled to the ground by a mensch girl two years older than me. The unfathomably light eight-year-old removed herself from me without a sound and offered me a hand. It was at the perfect height to be in reach, but only because I was groveling on the ground.

“Come on, up you go. Heeey! Everyone! I found Erich!!!”

When I got to my feet, she only came up to my waist. It wasn’t any kind of congenital issue, but rather because her legs were that of a spider’s: Margit was an arachne. My first meeting with her had been the moment that I truly internalized the fantasy aspect of the world I lived in.

Three types of people existed in this world: humanfolk like mensch, demonfolk whose mana left them with untold peculiarities (though I could make some inferences based on the flavor text of skills and traits), and demihumans like Margit. This last group was made up of people that combined human traits with those of other species.

The Rhine Trialist Empire offered no legal preference to any one group, and it wasn’t rare to see a handful of different races coexisting in one canton. In fact, I’d heard that one of the imperial houses of Rhine was a vampire bloodline, so evidently it was less than an issue.

“Oopsie, you’re covered in leaves,” Margit remarked. “Sorry, Erich. There’s some on your face too. Here, lemme get that.”

“Thanks...” I said.

As a result, Margit was considered as normal as you could get, despite her spider-like lower body. I’d nearly exploded in surprise when I first met her, but everyone around me was so nonchalant that it hadn’t taken long to get used to it. At any rate, she was a normal girl who took good care of the younger (don’t look at me) members of our group.

I will admit that I did have a...preference for non-human characters in my past life. However, Margit was quite different from the sort of arachne I was used to. Her eight legs were short, stubby, and covered in dark plates, evocative of a furry crab. They were a far cry from the long, slender legs of a stereotypical arachne. Even though she was still young, she was coming up on her last molt and getting racy (and before you get any ideas, I mean racy like a fine wine is racy—fully realized as exemplary of its type—capisce?), so she would never fit the mold I had been used to.

That being said, it wasn’t out of the ordinary; she came from a line of arachne based off of terrestrial spiders such as the jumping spider. On the other hand, forms of arachne stemming from orb-weaving spiders had classic long legs. To put it in more familiar terms, it was a simple difference of ancestry.

“Aw, I’m no match for you, Margit...” I sighed.

“Of course not,” she replied. “Maybe you’ll have a chance when you’re older.”

“We’re only two years apart...” I said, pouting.

“That’s not very convincing coming from a kid who only pays attention to what’s in front of him,” she said with a smug grin. She then puffed up her scanty chest with pride, and the dark orbs embellishing what looked to be a pair of hair ornaments glinted with the light of the afternoon sun.

Those weren’t beaded hair ties to hold up her pigtails, but rather fully functioning eyes. In addition to a pair of eyes that excelled in perceiving depth, arachne boasted a set of compound eyes that offered an unbelievable field of vision. In addition, the act of sticking low to the ground and pouncing on prey was a perfect fit for a jumping spider.

These racial traits were utterly broken in a game of hide-and-seek. But more than that, it meant that arachne were naturally fit to be rangers and scouts, and often matured into hunters in adulthood. Personally, I was also sure that an arachne grappler or fencer build could turn into a dodge tank that would break all semblance of balance.

And as a matter of fact, Margit hailed from a long, unbroken lineage of state huntsmen. Not only did they supply the canton with meats and furs, but they also culled the forests of unwanted animals to maintain the ecosystem. This latter point was something they did under direct orders from the magistrate, so they were a cut above the average local hunter.

It couldn’t be overstated how impressive it was that the magistrate employed them. A salary from the state in this age held infinitely more weight than anything a public worker could obtain in the modern era. The salary was a display of trust, announcing that an artisan was worth their work even at the expense of regular payments.

“...You won’t find me next time,” I said.

“Oh, really now? Get ready, I’ll make sure you’re the first one to fall!” she replied with a radiant smile.

As I watched her merry face, I found myself thinking, Maybe I should grab Presence Detection for next time. All my maturity seemed to have vanished in an instant.

[Tips] Many races with powerful unique bonuses exist. Many have subraces that are vastly different from one another.

The ratio of humanfolk to demonfolk to demihumans in the Rhine Empire was said to be 5 : 1 : 3. Considering that neither institutional nor cultural divisions stood between the three types of people, the ratio likely arose from the simple fact that humanfolk propagated the most quickly. Adaptability and the ability to reproduce in any environment had led to a rise in their population. Specifically, the mensch were so numerous that they made up the majority of all humanfolk.

However, numbers did not so easily translate into power. Despite their numerical advantage, mensch influence paled in comparison to their fellow humanfolk, let alone the other highly intelligent races. Their magical aptitude was leagues lower than the long-lived methuselah, and their physical abilities were dwarfed by the mighty dvergar. And these were only other humans; few mensch could hope to match up to demons or demihumans when it came to raw stats.

Children only a few years apart were no match for one another—the older child would always win. This was all the more noticeable with a demihuman. Not even an adult mensch could keep up with a juvenile centaur. The same went for the bullish strength of an audhumbla. And with arachne being famed for their prowess as hunters, scouts, and assassins, few mensch in history kept pace with one in a serious game of hide-and-seek. It took only the slightest gap in skill to ostracize a child.

As a result, one spidery huntsman’s daughter was at her wit’s end. Margit was still too adept, even after new rules had been put in place to limit her from climbing trees and the like. It had gotten to the point that the local children had begun to avoid her.

There was little she could do about the fact that, like most bug-demihumans, arachne were quick to mature. The speed of this development usually inversely correlated with lifespan; since arachne lived about as long as mensch, Margit was just about to approach physical maturity. Her superiority was more than evident. The games had literally turned into contests between children and an adult, with a harsh divide between races that could not be easily overcome.

However, her maturity did not necessarily extend to her mental state. The Trialist Empire considered arachne to be mature at fifteen years of age, and an upbringing in such a society was sure to reflect this. Margit may have been a fully grown jumping spider arachne, but she was still a child.

Margit wanted playmates, as all children do, but could find no one to play her favorite game: foxes-and-geese. Every attempt would end with an instant goose roundup, or else she would remain uncaught for hours at a time. The other children were tired of her unbroken winning streak and would often turn sour when she participated.

Then, one day, a new boy appeared. His name was Erich, and his parents had just permitted him to wander into the woods. He had no particularly noteworthy traits, but his older brothers were already a part of their group, so he fit in nicely. He seemed rather attached to Margit, as he’d run over and talk about all sorts of things whenever he saw her.

Most importantly, however, Erich was good at foxes-and-geese. When he first appeared, he was clumsy and poor at hiding, as most children are. But one day, he’d suddenly become an expert. His movements were swifter than the swaying shadows, and he would disappear into the brush in the blink of an eye. Additionally, he was infuriatingly difficult to find once he was out of sight.

Erich’s stealth meant that when he was a fox, he captured you before you knew it; when he was a goose, the game would never end. On top of that, he was quite the budding tactician. His ingenuity gave the other children the means to stand up to the menace known as Margit.

“If you make a circle and search inwards, you can catch any goose!”

Naturally, this stratagem was effective against a certain arachne too. With the introduction of a new prodigy and new tactics, Margit once again found a place within the group—after all, she was the only one that stood any chance of catching him one-on-one.

This is why Margit fancied him. She liked his smooth, golden hair. She liked how sometimes his baby blue eyes looked mature beyond their age, and she liked his gentle, slender face. She liked how he spoke clearly and concisely, unlike most children of their age. She liked the warmth of his mensch body. And above all, she liked how he didn’t leave her out of her favorite game.

Erich was the only one that Margit tackled to the ground. At some point, something in the back of her mind had started telling her to, so she pounced on him again and again. Far was the day when she would come to realize that this was instinctual behavior for the matriarchal arachne, but for today, she once again leapt on her favorite little mensch.

[Tips] Arachne are a race with human torsos and spider legs. Well suited to many climates, they can be found in most regions of the continent. Though they originate from the Southern Coast, their adaptability led to their propagation and subracial division.

The Rhine Empire is home to settlements of arachne resembling remarkably small jumping spiders, large and slender orb-weaving spiders, and tarantulas that came from a foreign land.