Marvel: Emotion Farming System

John Grayson used to be an aspiring writer, working hard towards his dream through high school and university. Yes, used to be. After working three days straight, revising his novel as per the advice of an editor, he finally had his first novel ready for publishing.

But right after he pressed send and rested his head on the desk for some shut eye, he found himself inside a random apartment he didn’t recognize.

There was no white room, no god or angel, no ROB lacking entertainment, just a quick displacement.

Technically, he woke up once before this, a few hours ago, to the grating sound of the alarm, but he thought it was a dream and went back to sleep with a nerdy grin.

However, waking up in the room again, he decided to turn the TV on.

[Tony Stark attacked in Monaco; who was the attacker?]

The pretty news reporter continued as his jaw almost touched the floor, but the matter-of-fact announcement echoed in the room. John’s mind started buzzing; this wasn’t a joke, but real national television.

Iron Man 2 had come out 20 years ago, so there was no need for Marvel to pull this kind of stunt at this point. Unless this was the set of some reality TV show he didn’t remember signing up for, he was really in a world of superheroes right now.

When he rushed to his personal computer, which sat above a simple desk and searched some keywords on retro Google, the new world unravelled before him.

Tony Stark, Professor Xavier, Captain America, and the works.

“Well, shit…” John trembled half in fear and half in excitement.

He had woken up in Marvel. And as much as he wished it to be a dream, his stinging cheeks, which he pulled without an ounce of mercy, only made him tear up further.

“I am cooked.” He closed his eyes for a moment, accepting his fate.

The world of Marvel wasn’t kind to normal people. He wouldn’t even know when a random car thrown by Hulk would reduce him to a red stain on the asphalt. Not to mention the criminal rings and organizations that treated the Geneva Convention as a to-do list.

As someone who knew the dangers of this world, John felt his heart skip a beat as a blue screen blinked before him. Almost like it had waited for this moment.

Of course, a system would follow transmigration. However, this didn’t seem like the typical system he had seen in novels. This one had three tabs, but the other two had a lock symbol on them.

[Initializing Emotion Farming System… Please wait…]

The line was followed by a merry jingle that made him gulp.

Emotion farming system. It was a trope he knew well. The protagonist would make others feel strong emotions like love, hate, or fear and get points he could exchange for powers.

Should he start flaming people online? Well, Twitter just launched here, so it might work.

‘I doubt it would be a good source though.’ John looked at the loading screen in front of him; a cat similar to one in Japanese anime waved at him in the middle.

In such settings, becoming a hero or terrorist was more economical. People would look at him with gratitude or pure terror depending on which route he took; the points were sure to come.

However, John didn’t have the heart to be a hero, nor did he want to risk being a terrorist. He was a simple, powerless writer who had only thrown one punch once in his life.

[System loaded…]

[Congratulations on being chosen by the Emotion Farming System.]

The system’s lines were dry, unlike his inner turmoil. But that clinical coldness helped him calm down a little; his eyes narrowed as the next string of words appeared.

[Tutorial is being generated…]

[Confirming the Host’s world…]

[Assessing danger level…]

[Generating appropriate task…]

John looked at the passing words in absolute silence, then with a sharp ting, a new panel arrived.

Mission: Gather 100 EP

Time Limit: 5 days

Reward: Access to Skill Shop, Access to John Grayson’s Bank account, and a random Rare-rated skill from the shop

Failure: Removal of the Emotion Farming System

John let out a sigh of relief. At least the system wasn’t killing him for failure. But the System was his only advantage here; losing the chance to gain power in this world wasn’t a good thing. Not to mention the bank account, he needed money to eat even if he had powers.

Sure, he might not die in any of the following events, but he wasn’t exactly the type to gamble. And if he was being real, New York faced an Avenger-level threat basically every Tuesday; he would actually die of constant stress before any villain got a hold of him.

Regardless, what gave him solace was that the system didn’t try to force him down a path. He was free to choose how he wanted to do this, and for that he felt grateful.

Glancing at the big fat 0 on his EP balance and then at the keyboard on the faded desk, a smile tugged on his lips.

He wasn’t a fighter and nowhere unstable enough to hold people at knife point on the daily; he didn’t have that type of dawg in him. But there was something he could do. A way to farm a shit ton of EP in this world.

After a short internet search, he confirmed the absence of famous novels, manga, and anime from the previous world. No Dragon Ball, or the big three, no Vinland Saga, Edgerunners, or Vagabond.

‘Not just the works, even their creators aren’t here.’ At this point, he just felt sad for these people who would never know of peak fiction.

John had loved reading from a young age; there wasn’t a form of media he hadn’t consumed to the fullest. And he had become even more obsessed with famous works after he wanted to become a writer.

Nothing stirred emotions like a proper story. From anger to sadness, hate to love, stories evoked some of the strongest emotions in him and in millions across the world.

He still remembered the first time he cried while watching Your Lie in April. That bittersweet feeling 5 centimetres per second left him with, and the way Psycho Pass made him look at the world through a new lens.

Countless stories had taught him countless lessons. They had given him hope, made him cry, and kept him up at night; that was the magic that drew him to his dream.

“A writer’s gotta write.” There was no competition; this was the only way he could move forward.

He didn’t have to worry about this method failing; these stories in his head had already proven themselves in a world with much harsher competition. And as someone who had read them a hundred times, hoping to learn how these wonderful tales came to be, John had almost memorized them all.

When he pulled his chair and sat in front of the blank screen, with the wind bringing the noise from the busy streets outside, he had no fear of failure in his movements.

The work he had chosen to write first had left his heart fluttering, worried, and stressed till the ending scene. Only leaving him with a mix of relief and quiet fulfilment.

After a series of quick clacks on the greying keyboard, the name of the work appeared on the empty notepad page.

Your Name

If John had to sum up what Your Name made him feel, it was a mixing between howling in frustration while kicking his feet like a girl.

The story was his first romance and had him start a romance-series binge, nearly destroying his grades in high school.

Makoto Shinkai had done a great job at setting the atmosphere and the dynamic, not to mention the escalating dread that reached its peak during the climax.

If it hadn’t ended the way it did, John was ready to fly to Japan and give Makoto Shinkai a personal visit.

And now, he was determined to make these unsuspecting readers go through the same.

“Huhu, this’ll be fun.”