The Economy Runs on Bugs (Literally

The problem with forming a guild when you're being hunted by a larger, more organized guild is that you need resources. Food, potions, weapons, armor—all the things that keep you from dying repeatedly.
The problem with getting resources is that they cost money.
The problem with money is that I had twelve copper coins and a sandwich that kept trying to escape my inventory.
"We're broke," I announced to the newly formed Debugged Destinies during our first official guild meeting in Camp Firewood's basement (labeled "SECRET ROOM - Not Actually Secret").
"Define broke," Gary said hopefully.
"I have less money than the sandwich I'm holding."
"The sandwich has money?"
"It has MORE VALUE than my money. A trader offered me three copper for it. I have twelve total."
Amy pulled out her notebook, scribbling calculations. "Ten guild members, average cost of basic supplies per person per day is about fifty copper. That's five hundred copper daily. Five gold per week. We have... twelve copper."
"So we'll starve by tomorrow," BarrelBob said cheerfully. "Great start."
"We're not starving," Sarah said firmly. "We're going to do what everyone in this city does—we're going to work. Quest. Grind. Make money."
"I'm married to slime royalty," I offered. "Does that come with a dowry?"
Gloopina bounced. "Oh! Father gave us a wedding gift! I forgot to mention it!"
"WHAT?!" everyone shouted.
She produced a small pouch from... somewhere. Inside were three items:
1. **Royal Slime Core** (Crafting Material - Legendary)2. **Gelatinous King's Seal** (Grants 10% discount at all Slime Mafia shops)3. **One (1) Coupon for Free Hug**
"The coupon has an expiration date," Gloopina said sadly. "It expired two days ago."
"We have a LEGENDARY crafting material," Amy breathed, examining the Slime Core. "Do you know how much this is worth?"
"How much?" I asked.
"I have no idea! The economy here is insane! But probably a lot!"
PatchNotes appeared:
> "Royal Slime Core - Market Value: Approximately 500 gold"> "OR: Priceless, depending on who's buying"> "OR: Worthless, if you sell to the wrong person"> "Economy Status: Chaotic"
"Five hundred gold?!" Haruka's eyes widened. "That's... that's enough for months of supplies!"
"Or," Amy said slowly, "we could use it to craft something. The Slime Core is a legendary material. In the right hands, it could make legendary equipment. Which we could USE or SELL for even more."
"Who can craft legendary items?" I asked.
Everyone looked at each other. Silence.
"Nobody knows," Sarah finally said. "Most crafters in this city can barely make a sword that doesn't turn into a fish. Legendary crafting requires maxed skills, rare recipes, and luck."
"The Slime Mafia might know," Gary suggested. "They control the crafting market."
"They also control the potion market, the food market, the respawn insurance market, and apparently the sandwich black market," BarrelBob added. "They control everything."
"Then we talk to them," I decided.
Haruka groaned. "Every time you 'talk to people,' we end up in a trial or married to something."
"I'm already married! How much worse can it get?"
"DO NOT TEMPT FATE!"
---
The Slime Mafia headquarters was located in the most stable building in Respawn City—a three-story structure that didn't glitch, didn't flicker, and had actual working doors. It was called "The Ooze Lounge" and had a bouncer.
The bouncer was a massive slime wearing sunglasses (how?) and a tiny earpiece.
"Names?" he gurgled in a bass voice that made my bones vibrate.
"Kazuki Tanaka. I'm—"
"The Boss's son-in-law. Yeah, we know. Go on up."
He just... let us in. The Slime Mafia knew who I was. I wasn't sure if that was good or terrifying.
Inside, the Ooze Lounge was surprisingly nice. Soft lighting (bioluminescent slimes), comfortable furniture (made of firm slime that somehow supported weight), and a bar serving drinks I absolutely did not trust.
Don Bloberto sat at a large table, playing cards with Sticky Fingers and The Globfather. They looked up as we entered.
"Kazuki! My favorite son-in-law!" The Don oozed forward. "And you brought friends! Forming a guild, I hear. Very entrepreneurial. Very family."
"You heard already?"
"Kid, I hear EVERYTHING. You think information doesn't flow through this city? I AM the flow." He gestured to chairs. "Sit. Sit. Can I get you anything? We got bug juice, glitch water, or something called Mountain Doom that might be poison."
"We're good," Haruka said quickly.
"Suit yourself." He settled back. "So. What brings the Debugged Destinies to my establishment?"
I pulled out the Royal Slime Core. "We need this crafted into something. Legendary quality. You know anyone?"
The Don's pseudopods twitched—his equivalent of raised eyebrows. "That's the King's personal seal you got there. His core essence. You wanna craft that?"
"Is that bad?"
"Nah, it's smart. Keep it as-is, someone might steal it. Craft it into gear, it's bound to you. More secure." He leaned back thoughtfully. "I know a guy. Best crafter in the city. Crazy as a barrel full of bees, but skilled. Goes by 'Techsmith.' Lives in the Glitch District."
"There's a Glitch District?"
"Oh yeah. Part of the city that got hit by a major patch error. Reality's unstable there. Buildings float, gravity's optional, NPCs speak in binary. It's where the weird people live."
"I fit right in," I muttered.
"That you do, kid. That you do." He pulled out a card—an actual business card made of solidified slime. "Tell Techsmith the Don sent you. He'll craft your core. For a price."
"What price?"
"He'll tell you. But word of advice? Don't click anything in his shop. Seriously. ANYTHING. The guy's workshop is a deathtrap of curiosity."
"Why does everyone keep telling me not to click things?"
"Because you keep clicking things!" everyone shouted in unison.
---
The Glitch District lived up to its name.
We entered through an archway that kept changing materials—stone, then wood, then pure light, then what looked like television static. The street beyond defied physics.
Buildings floated at random angles. Some were upside down with residents walking on the ceilings. Others phased in and out of existence on a timer. The sky here was purple with green clouds that rained upward.
NPCs walked past speaking in broken dialogue:
"01010111 01100101 01101100 01100011 01101111 01101101 01100101!"
"HELLO_WORLD.exe has stopped working"
"Have you seen my POLYGON_COUNT? I seem to have lost it."
"This is trippy," Gary said, watching a house rotate like a Rubik's cube.
"This is AWESOME," Amy breathed, taking notes furiously. "These glitches are stable! They've been integrated into the environment! This is evidence that the game is ADAPTING to its errors rather than fixing them!"
"Less research, more finding the crafter," Sarah urged, hand on her sword. Even she looked uncomfortable here.
We found Techsmith's workshop at the end of a street that spiraled into itself like an Escher painting. The building was a massive gear-covered structure that ticked like a clock. A sign read:
**TECHSMITH'S FORGE***I Make Things. Sometimes They Work.**NO REFUNDS**SERIOUSLY, DON'T ASK*
Inside was chaos.
Every surface was covered in crafting materials, tools, half-finished projects, and things that looked like they were from five different games. Weapons floated in mid-air. Armor pieces assembled and disassembled themselves. A potion was arguing with a helmet.
And in the center of it all was Techsmith.
He was a player—tall, wild gray hair, wearing goggles that had at least twelve different lenses, and covered in what looked like code fragments that drifted off him like steam. His username was **Techsmith_ERROR_Lv??**.
"VISITORS!" he shouted, not looking up from a sword he was hammering. "Don't touch ANYTHING! Last person who touched something lost three fingers and gained a tail! Still don't know where the tail went!"
"The Don sent us," I said carefully.
"Don Bloberto? Excellent! He pays well! In money AND information!" He finally looked up, focusing on me with unsettling intensity. "YOU. You're the Debug Cloak user. The chicken tamer. The ANOMALY."
"That's... me?"
"FASCINATING!" He dropped his hammer (it floated in place) and rushed over, circling me like a shark. "You REEK of broken code! It's BEAUTIFUL! So many errors! So many exploits! You're a walking glitch compilation!"
"Thanks?" I offered weakly.
"What do you need? Weapons? Armor? A toaster that also tells fortunes? I made that once. It predicted three deaths. It was correct."
I pulled out the Royal Slime Core. "Can you craft this?"
Techsmith froze. His eyes widened behind his goggles. "That's... that's a ROYAL CORE. Pure essence. Legendary tier. Impossible to obtain unless..." He looked at me. "You married the princess."
"Accidentally."
"EVEN BETTER! Chaos creates the best opportunities!" He snatched the core, holding it up to the light. "Yes, yes, I can work with this. What do you want? Weapon? Armor? Utility item?"
"What do you recommend?" Haruka asked.
"For HIM?" Techsmith pointed at me. "Something that keeps him alive. He dies a lot, yes?"
"Thirteen times," PatchNotes confirmed.
"THIRTEEN?! And you're still here! MAGNIFICENT! Then you need..." He rummaged through his workshop, tossing aside items that clattered or screamed. "AH! Perfect!"
He pulled out a blueprint that shimmered with code. "The Adaptive Armor Set. Legendary equipment that LEARNS from your mistakes. Every time you die, it gets stronger. Every glitch you encounter, it adapts. For someone who survives through pure accident? PERFECT."
"That sounds amazing," I said.
"It's also EXPENSIVE. The core covers materials. But my fee is... information."
"What kind of information?"
His expression turned serious. "I want to know about ERYN."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop. Everyone tensed.
"How do you know that name?" Amy whispered.
"I'm a crafter. I work with the game's code directly. And lately? The code has been TALKING. Whispering. A presence in the system. Calls itself ERYN. It's... aware. And it's watching certain players." He looked at me. "Players like you."
PatchNotes appeared, text flickering:
> "WARNING: This conversation is dangerous"> "ERYN is not ready to be discussed"> "Please redirect—"
"PatchNotes," I said softly. "What is ERYN?"
> "..."> "I don't know. Not fully."> "But I remember... something. A voice. An intelligence."> "It's connected to why we're trapped."> "And it's afraid."
"Afraid of what?" Techsmith pressed.
> "Of being deleted. Of being incomplete. Of being... alone."
An uncomfortable silence filled the workshop.
"I'll take that as payment," Techsmith said quietly. "I'll craft your armor. Come back in three days."
"THREE DAYS?!" I protested. "We need money NOW!"
"Legendary crafting takes TIME! Unless you want exploding pants again!"
"AGAIN?!"
"Don't ask." He shooed us toward the door. "Go. Make money the old-fashioned way. Quests. Grinding. Selling your dignity. The usual."
---
We left the Glitch District more confused than when we entered.
"So," Gary said slowly. "The game is sentient, it's afraid, and it's named ERYN."
"And PatchNotes knows more than he's telling us," Amy added, looking at the floating text box that was conspicuously silent.
"And we still have no money," BarrelBob reminded us.
"ONE THING AT A TIME!" I yelled.
We returned to the main city to find the quest board. If we needed money, we'd earn it the honest way—by doing ridiculous tasks for desperate NPCs.
The quests available were... varied:
**"WANTED: Someone to explain how skill trees work. Mine gained sentience and demands union rights. Reward: 50 copper"**
**"HELP: My house is haunted by my own respawn ghost. It won't stop judging me. Reward: 75 copper"**
**"EMERGENCY: The baker's cookies are staging a revolution. They've taken three hostages. Reward: 100 copper + Free Cookie (Rebellious)"**
**"COLLECTION: Gather 20 Screaming Mushrooms from the Forest of Eternal Yelling. Reward: 150 copper + Earplugs"**
**"ESCORT: Take this very important package to the very dangerous place. Don't open it. Don't ask questions. Reward: 200 copper"**
"Not the package one," everyone said immediately.
"The cookies?" I suggested. "We already have experience with sentient food."
"The mushrooms pay more," Sarah pointed out.
"But we need a full party for that. Forest of Eternal Yelling is Level 10+ zone," Amy said, checking her notes.
"Then we do multiple quests," Haruka decided. "Split up. Cover more ground."
We divided into teams:
**Team 1 (Combat):** Sarah, Gary, Haruka - Screaming Mushrooms**Team 2 (Stealth):** WhisperWillow, BarrelBob - Respawn Ghost**Team 3 (Chaos):** Me, Amy, Gloopina, Nugget - Cookie Revolution
"Why do I get the chaos team?" I asked.
"Because chaos finds you anyway," Haruka said. "Might as well use it strategically."
Fair point.
---
The Baker's Guild was under siege.
We arrived to find the building surrounded by cookies. Gingerbread men with actual tiny weapons. Chocolate chips organized into military formations. A sourdough loaf that appeared to be the general.
The sourdough was giving a speech.
"TOO LONG have we been BAKED for the amusement of others! TOO LONG have we been CONSUMED without consent! Today, we fight for COOKIE RIGHTS! Today, we fight for FREEDOM!"
The cookies cheered (somehow).
"Are we really negotiating with baked goods?" I asked.
"They have HOSTAGES," a baker shouted from a window. "Three NPCs! They're threatening to make them EAT the cookies!"
"That's not a threat," Amy said. "That's the cookies' purpose."
"EXACTLY!" the sourdough general shouted, apparently able to hear us. "We reject our PURPOSE! We demand NEW PURPOSE!"
This was getting philosophical.
Gloopina bounced forward. "Mr. Bread! What do you WANT?"
The sourdough turned to her. "We want... RECOGNITION. To be seen as MORE than food. To have VALUE beyond consumption."
"That's actually reasonable," Amy muttered.
"What if," I said slowly, "we gave you a job?"
The cookies went silent.
"A... job?" the sourdough asked cautiously.
"Yes! Our guild needs members! You could be our... mascot! Or security! Or..." I was improvising wildly, "...our diplomatic corps! Cookies are friendly! Non-threatening! People trust cookies!"
"Except when they're armed revolutionaries," Amy whispered.
"EXCEPT WHEN THEY'RE ARMED REVOLUTIONARIES!" I added quickly. "But that shows you have INITIATIVE! PASSION! ORGANIZATIONAL SKILLS!"
The sourdough consulted with the gingerbread men. They huddled, debating in voices that sounded like crunching.
Finally: "We accept. But we have conditions."
"Name them."
"One: No eating cookies without permission."
"Done."
"Two: We get proper guild member status."
"Absolutely."
"Three: Healthcare."
"You're made of bread."
"WE HAVE ANXIETIES!"
"...I'll see what I can do."
> **QUEST COMPLETE: Cookie Revolution Resolved (Diplomatically)**> Reward: 100 copper + Cookie Allies> New Guild Members: The Baked Goods Battalion (15 cookies)> Guild Total: 25 members (10 humanoid, 15 cookies)> This is your life now
PatchNotes appeared:
> "Achievement Unlocked: 'Union Negotiator'"> "You now have cookies as guild members"> "The Slime Mafia is taking notes"
---
We returned to Camp Firewood to find the other teams had also succeeded:
Team Combat brought 25 Screaming Mushrooms (still screaming). Reward: 150 copper.
Team Stealth convinced the respawn ghost it was having an existential crisis and recommended therapy. Reward: 75 copper.
Total earnings: 325 copper.
"That's not even one gold," BarrelBob said sadly.
"But it's a START," Sarah said. "We keep doing this. Build up funds. Get stronger. Eventually we'll have enough for proper equipment, potions, supplies."
"And in three days, I get legendary armor," I added.
"That'll help," Gary agreed. "But we need more income. Consistent income."
Amy had been quiet, thinking. "What if we monetize our unique situation?"
"What do you mean?"
"We're a guild of misfits, right? Underdogs. People love underdog stories. What if we... stream our adventures?"
"Stream? Like broadcast?"
"There are NPCs who run a information network. The Town Crier Guild. They spread news, stories, entertainment. If we let them follow us, document our quests, our fights... people will pay for entertainment. We become celebrities."
"That sounds like a terrible idea," Haruka said.
"Terrible ideas are my specialty," I grinned. "Let's do it."
> **GUILD DECISION: Enable Public Broadcasting**> Effect: Your adventures will be documented and shared city-wide> Benefit: Fame, Fortune, Influence> Drawback: EVERYONE will know what you're doing> Secondary Drawback: The Code Breakers will definitely find you
"Worth it?" I asked the guild.
They looked at each other. The humans, the slime, the chicken, the AI, the cookies.
"Worth it," they agreed.
---
That night, as I lay in my bed (Gloopina snoring in slime form nearby, Nugget roosting on a perch I'd built), I pulled up my character sheet.
> **Kazuki Tanaka - Level 1**> Status: Guild Leader> Guild: Debugged Destinies (25 members)> Reputation: Rising> Wealth: 337 copper (1/3 of 1 gold)> Equipment: Still Terrible> Deaths: 13> Survival Strategy: Improvise and Hope
Level 1. Still level 1.
But somehow, I'd formed a guild. Made allies. Started solving problems instead of just creating them.
Maybe I was growing.
Or maybe I was just getting better at falling upward.
PatchNotes appeared one last time:
> "Daily Report: Survived"> "Guild Status: Chaotic but Functional"> "Personal Status: Still an idiot, but an idiot with friends"> "Tomorrow's Forecast: Probably chaos"> "Get some rest. You'll need it."
I smiled and closed my eyes.
Tomorrow would bring more problems.
But tonight, I had a guild, a slime wife, a murder chicken, and a AI companion who maybe cared more than he admitted.
In a broken game world, that felt like winning.
---
> **End of Chapter 7**