. . .

For the fifteenth time in the last hour another piece of metal melted at his fingertips. Were he a forgemaster or a mage that would be an incredible feat... but Capra had no intention of melting the copper hammer, and doing so left the resulting clump of melted goop unuseable.

System Notification: You have failed to enchant [Copper Hammer]. [Proficiency gained: 0].

[Copper Hammer] has become [Misaligned Goop].

“Ugh, another failure.”

Capra was beginning to hate the system, and its constant reminders. The first few failure notifications didn’t phase him, but as time passed and they appeared over, and over again— he could feel something ready to snap in him.

“Dagnabit!” A nearby player shouted, beating Capra to the punch.

From his clothes Capra could tell the player was also an enchanter. He wore a beginner’s outfit consisting of a gray starter robe, a gray wizard’s hat, and an old wooden staff, which was standard outfit for the class— but the poor sap probably didn’t know what he was getting into.

Becoming an enchanter was a risky professional pursuit in the world of Chaos and Fame. Granted, it was filled with endless opportunities, but few enchanters were able to grasp those opportunities because at the end of the day, enchanting was just too random.

Sometimes enchanted items becamed possessed, or cursed, transmogrified, or warped beyond all recognition— to name a few possibilities, and the few enchanters that made it in the enchanting business did it by being able to reliably apply one or two enchantments. These successful enchanters were players that experimented away from others in secret, then they patented and sold their results or kept them under lock and key, forming a small monopoly worth a lot of money.

It was the ample room for experimentation and innovation as an enchanter that brought so many new players to Chaos and Fame, and just like Capra a few of them continued unphased, even after their failures.

...

Persistance was key in any endeavor, and Capra knew that. So although he was tired and his hands were shaky, he retrieved another copper hammer from his inventory.

“It’s only worth a few copper coin.” He told himself.

Wind flowed into his diaphram as he took a deep breath, then he flipped the copper hammer up into the air and cast enchant. Within seconds magical forces grabbed at the hammer keeping it in place, and then the firework-like energies of the enchant spell began to blanket it.

After some time the hammer began to shake, the firework like energy began to fizzle and disappear, and the hammer gently floated down onto Capra’s waiting palm. Capra stared on, his eyes sparkling with a faint hint of glee.

"Success."

His peers looked at him with squinted eyes, and obvious frowns, but Capra knew they were just jealous, and their jealousy wouldn’t take away his good mood.

It wasn't long before he turned away from their gazes and returned his attention to the item at hand. Now that the [Enchant] had finally succeeded he wanted to see what effect had been applied on the hammer.

“Haha, let’s have a loo...”

System Notification: You have successfully enchanted [Copper Hammer]. [Proficiency gained]: 1.

[Beginner Enchanting Proficiency]: 13/100.

System Notification: [Copper Hammer] has become [+1 Copper Hammer of Futility]:

[+1 Copper Hammer of Futility]:

Level Requirement: 0

Attack Damage: +2 (+1)

Effects:

1. [Futility] - Damage dealt by this weapon is decreased by its base Attack Damage.

[Description]: A hammer enchanted by the player [Capra].

“...”

Capra didn’t know if he should laugh or cry. Was the system playing a joke on him? The irony in the fact that his first successful enchantment in the law few hours results in an effect called [Futility] was not lost on him, and the situation made his head hurt.

“Focus on the positive... focus on the positive.” He mumbled.

At least he’d gotten some proficiency he could be thankful for, and some new data he could record in his data log.

...

After another hour of enchanting without success Capra got up to stretch and take a break. He’d failed countless times; however each time he failed he wrote down information about the experience in his data log for future usage. The exercise was useful, but physically and mentally draining, so he took a break every now and then as to avoid losing his mind.

“Strange.” He muttered.

He opened his eyes after a particularly intense yawn and noticed that the square seemed a lot more desolate than before. As a matter of fact, there were at least 10 less enchanters now.

“Another Exodus huh...”

Exodus was a term Capra had come up with within the first few hours of playing the game. The term referred to the systematic departure of enchanters towards the class change center. It was a common occurence, after all if a player chose to be an enchanter they would face a lot of pressure.

Enchanters were looked down upon by most people, and the general consensus was that with the exception of a few notable figures, all enchanters were gamblers. They were unreliable in a party, had few combat related skills, and their buffs were trash compared to a priest. At the very least a forgemaster in a party could repair or strengthen equipment.

At level zero the success rate of [enchant] is approximately 5%, but over the last three hours Capra had been particularly unlucky and had only managed to successfully enchant 1 out of 45 hammers…. putting his success rate at 2.2%, and every one of those failures turned a copper hammer into [Misaligned Goop].

In comparison most classes had success rates as high as 15% when making or modifying an item, and fewer risks. For example, if a tailor sewed clothing incorrectly then it could be re-attempted at the cost of a few durability points and some thread. A forgemaster could re-forge equipment at the cost of item stats or durability, and an alchemist could regain some of the losses from a failed concoction by using [Component Extraction], a skill that turned items into reagents.

But those were only production techniques and skills, each production class also had a unique method to fortify equipment. Tailors had patches, forgemasters had weapon attachments they could use [fortify] with, and alchemists could refine attribute enhancing gems or chemicals. These classes were very versatile, but generally speaking, they paid for it by being ineffective in combat.

At early levels it wasn’t noticeable, but later on the difference was huge. Forgemasters became too slow, tailors became too weak, and alchemists had to spend too much money.

Enchanters however were a hybrid-like existence. Their stats scaled to become fairly well balanced, with no apparent strengths or weaknesses; however, their skills were unreliable and mediocre compared to dedicated combat classes, and unlike production classes, aside from [Enchant] they had no other production class skills, or any skills to help them recoup their losses.

With the exception of a few highly secret methods, there were no known ways to control the results of the basic [Enchant] spell, and it only got worse as the enchanter ranked up. For example, at rank one an enchanter can learn [Enchantment of Burning Flames].

Players originally thought that the burning flames enchantment would be a lot more reliable than the rank zero [Enchant] spell, but they were quickly proven wrong.

...

The first player to request to have an item enchanted was a swordsman— and logically he chose his sword as the vessel for the enchantment. The story goes like this.

The swordsman – a brave and exemplary man called Sambud – found an enchanter. He paid him a gold coin and the materials necessary for an [Enchantment of Burning Flames]... and then the enchanter did his job.

Prior to being enchanted the sword was already stunning to look at, it had a golden hilt finely chiseled into the shape of a lion’s head, a sinister curved blade which sported deftly carved golden runes, and a strange energy pulsated around its edges. It was a mighty blade, one that carried Sambud from victory to victory on the battlefield.

After some time, the enchantment took root on the blade, and the blade bloomed. Petals of fire surged forth from it, and the addition of the burning flames enchantment made it sparkle and shine in a way never seen before. Sambud was enraptured.

In his excitement he grabbed the sword out of the enchanter’s hand and equipped it without first examining the stats, but in a turn of great misfortune Sambud discovered that equipping the sword caused him to receive fire damage nearly equal to the sword’s attack damage every second.

The sword was bound to him, and he couldn’t just toss it— after all, it would just return. Furthermore, the constant damage he received made it difficult to access his inventory, and in the end he died several times before he was able to jump into a lake and successfully unequip his sword.

By the time Sambud managed to crawl out of the lake he had become a laughingstock. He had lost several levels, gold, and items as his enemies took advantage of the situation, and to make matters worse the enchanter was nowhere to be seen.

In a rage Sambud searched high and low for the enchanter. A month went by with no luck, then two, then three… until eventually an anonymous tip led Sambud to him. Suffice to say that the enchanter died— repeatedly, and painfully, and some players say Sambud still spawn camps the enchanter to this very day.

. . .

Stories like that are a dime a dozen, and because of them discrimination against enchanters by other classes has never dwindled, but at level zero it was very easy to change classes so most players who started the game as enchanters would switch before they suffered the wost of it.

That led to the many Exoduses Capra witnessed every few hours.

. . .

Across the square from Capra, a copper hammer levitated above a player's hand. The player had immense concentration, and sweat ran down his brow. To Capra, it seemed like the player would soon receive an enchanted hammer for his efforts; however, all of a sudden the copper hammer vanished with a poof, and a foul-smelling gooey white substance rained down on the player like the consequences of a bad burrito.

At first the player sat there stunned— drenched in the stuff, then his face reddened.

“Fark!” He yelled, in an oddly Irish accent.

He then looked around the square until he located a tall building – the profession center – and stomped towards it.

“What a bunch of baloney.” He screamed continued as he stormed away.

The Irish player's situation was pitiable, and others in the square pointed at him as he left, while some scoffed, but none of the players in the square scrutinized him for long.

"He's right you know." A player uttered to his friend. "We should change classes too." He continued.

It seemed that the Irish player's words had encouraged a few enchanters to give up and soon yet another exodus began, then after a few minutes there were five less enchanters in the square and those that remained quietly continued to enchant copper hammers. They were tired, Capra could see it on their faces, but they persisted.

The advantage of the copper hammer method of raising proficiency was that if a player succeeded to enchant one even once, they could sell the resulting enchanted copper hammer for up to 60 pieces of copper to an NPC merchant, so even with an atroceous success rate, most enchanters could still gain a few levels in [Beginner Enchanting Mastery] with the method, but Capra was different.

"I can't stay here." He sighed.

His track record thus far was terrible... and if he kept going using the copper hammer method he would end up the same as most enchanters so far… mediocre and broke.

So after taking some time to think Capra came to a decision. He got up, and walked out of Blue Moon Square.