Jester looked at the next two entries. [Personality: Jolly Prankster] and [Personality: Smartass Comedian].
It seemed that his innate aspects of personality had been identified by the system. He was indeed known for being a bit of a trickster. Always ready with a witty remark or a harmless gag. Before that demon incident happened three years ago.
He had suppressed those two personality archetype within after that point. It seemed it was time to recover them back.
He recalled his father's hopes for his name. Jester. And jolly jokes and well-intended pranks might be a better way to deal with... life.
Besides, this Toonworld system seemed to recognize and perhaps encourage this. Could they also influence ability acquisition? Being a Prankster might grant access to certain trick-based skills.
Next...
[Passive Traits: Toon Physique]. Jester grinned. This was massive. This was the game-changer. This was why Toonworld was Toonworld.
Toon Physique. It meant he wasn't just in Toonworld. He was a Toon. Or more accurately, his avatar was a Toon.
His body wasn't flesh and blood anymore. It was ink and animation cells. He could be flattened like a pancake and pop back to 3D. He could withstand explosions that would atomize a human. Only to emerge blackened, dazed, but otherwise fine.
He could stretch, compress, twist his limbs into impossible knots. Only for them to snap back into place.
His flesh and bones could probably turn into rubber. His organs were… well, he didn't want to think about that.
In short, he was immune to lethal damage. At least, non-plot related damage. He wouldn't die from falling off a cliff. He would just look down. Realize he was about to fall. And then plummet. Only to bounce back up like an over-inflated rubber ball.
This was his invulnerability. His built-in cheat code. It was the foundation of surviving here.
Next would be...
[Active Traits: Stretch!]. An active trait. This required conscious activation. Unlike the passive Toon Physique which was always on.
Stretch! Jester's mind quickly recalled some of the fiction characters in his previous world. Mr. Fantastic from Marvel's Fantastic Four. Luffy from One Piece anime...
Given toon form, it likely meant he could extend his limbs, neck, or torso to exaggerated lengths. He probably couldn't do it indefinitely. Or his single star in Magic might be a limiting factor. But it was a start.
He tried it. He pushed his hand to the side. While mentally activating [Stretch!]. His arm elongated. Reaching out from his body by an extra meter. Then two. Before retracting with a cartoon 'boing' sound.
His eyes widened. It was effortless. He could definitely use that. Grabbing things out of reach. Delivering unexpected slaps. Reaching up without jumping. Coiling to turn into a spring. The possibilities started to bubble.
Jester restrained his desire to spam the skill. Instead, he continued to check the entries in his status panel.
[Ranged Weapon: -] and [Melee Weapon: -]... Both were blank. No giant mallets. Or nuclear rockets yet. He was still unarmed. Well, he had just started. He would probably need to acquire these later.
[Combat Tool: -] and [Utility Tool: -]... They were also blank. These were separated from weapons here.
Jester's mind recalled the cartoon movies he had watched. Combat Tools might be traps. Like banana peels. Falling pianos. Portable holes...
Utility Tools could be anything from a fixing hammer to a jet pack. Again, he had nothing. He was a fresh start. A blank canvas for cartoon chaos.
Next...
[Costume: Basic Sport Suit]. He looked down at his blue T-shirt and joggers. Simple, comfortable. A 'costume' implied that clothes in Toonworld were more than just fabric.
The more complex one might have properties. Providing minor buffs. Or being tied to specific archetypes. Or... it might just be cosmetics. Visual things.
At the moment, his was basic. It meant he had an outfit. But nothing special. No superhero capes. No villainous cloaks. No clown outfits. Well, not yet.
Finally, the [Consumables]. This should be the usable items in his inventory. Most categories were still empty. Reasonable.
[o Coins: 100]. One hundred coins. They should be the currency here. Was 100 a lot? Probably not. Enough for a basic necessity, perhaps. But, as there were coins, a shop should exist, somewhere. Or at least, the concept of commerce.
[o Main EXP: -]. Experience points. The lifeblood of any RPG. He had none. He hadn't done anything yet.
But, wait. It was under [Consumables]. So, this must be an object capable to be consumed. Toonworld EXP would probably be acquired by consuming certain things. Consuming EXP items.
How to get that? It would probably be earned through combat. Or through gags, successful pranks, helping other Toons, or even just surviving particularly absurd scenarios.
Consuming enough of the EXP items should level him up. It would surely improve his stats, unlock new abilities, or refine existing ones.
And then...
[o Permanent: -] and [o Temporary: -]. These should be consumables that offered lasting benefits and those with fleeting effects.
Permanent might be stat-boosting potions. Trait unlock scrolls. Temporary should be objects that provide things like five-minute speed boosts. Or a few seconds of invincibility frames. Or temporary shapeshifting potion.
He had none of these. At the moment.
[o Healing: -]. Wait! Healing items. This was not good. This should mean that he could still get injured here. Despite his [Toon Physique].
This should cover objects like cartoon bandages. Or healing potions. Or recovery food. But it meant that he was not invincible here. He must still be careful.
And the last one was...
[o Raw Materials: -]. This should be the slot for raw objects required for crafting. Metal ores. Cooking ingredients. And other similar things.
Jester closed the panel again. Then reopened it. Just to confirm. It was all there. Every detail. Every blank space.
This wasn't just a new world. It was a new existence. He was literally an avatar. A character. In a living, breathing, ink-and-paint reality.
The rules here were different. The physics were probably broken in all the strange ways. And he was... genuinely excited.
...
Jester, or rather, Nightclown, stood in the doorway of what passed for his 'new home'. It was a cartoonish rendered room. Something that looked like came from a tree stump. Hollowed out and fitted with a small, round wooden door.
Smoke puffed lazily from a crooked chimney made of moss-covered stones. The whole structure looked like it could bounce if hit hard enough.
His grey hare avatar took a deep breath. Strange fresh smell.
"Alright, Nightclown!" He muttered. Stretching his anthropomorphic limbs. "Time to explore."
His blue T-shirt felt surprisingly comfortable. The joggers felt soft against his fur. He still found it weird, this rabbit body. But it was his here.
He stepped out. The small door swinging shut behind him with a comical BOING. A banner-like panel with a writing 'Toon Forest Village' unfolded before him. For a few seconds before it disappeared.
It was exactly as the name described. A collection of brightly colored, slightly wobbly houses. Nestled amongst impossibly tall, emerald-green trees. Well some of the trees had pink or crimson leaves. Not just green.
The ground was a lush, springy carpet of grass. Little paths of cobblestone wound between the dwellings. Each stone was a perfect, smooth oval.
Nightclown looked up. The sun, a perfect yellow disc hung in a sky of impossibly vibrant blue. Clouds drifted by. Shaped like cotton candy and occasionally forming the outline of a smiling face before morphing into a shoe shape. This was not a subtle place.
Movement was everywhere. Anthropomorphic animals.
Not far, he could see a plump, pink pig in a chef's hat. He was meticulously polishing a sign that read 'Root & Tuber Eatery'.
There was a tall, lanky giraffe. Dressed in a postman's uniform. He stretched its neck to deliver a letter to a squirrel's treetop home.
A beaver in overalls was meticulously stacking logs. Ones that constantly threatened to topple over with a cartoonish rattle.
The sounds of the village were a lively symphony. Full of cheerful whistles, light thuds, and the occasional spring or boing.
Nightclown decided to start interacting with the pig chef. He approached. His hare ears swiveling.
"Morning!" He chirped. Surprised by the slightly higher pitch of his avatar's voice.
The pig, whose nameplate read 'Chef Hamish', looked up. Startled. His cartoon eyes, large and round, blinked.
"Oh! Good morning to you too, Stranger! Haven't seen your face around these parts before. Just moved into the old stump, did ya?" His voice was a warm, rumbling baritone. Full of genuine curiosity.
Nightclown blinked. "Uh, yeah, just got settled in." He hadn't expected the immediate social interaction. "Place looks lively."
"Indeed it is! Always bustling. Always a new recipe to try!" Chef Hamish gestured proudly at his eatery. "If you're ever hungry, I've got the finest root stew this side of the Whispering Woods!"
He winked, a tiny DING sound effect accompanying the gesture.
"I'll keep that in mind." Nightclown said. A small smile was forming. "Thanks, Chef."
He moved on. Slightly taken aback. The pig had personality. Not just programmed dialogue. He walked past a small pond. A place where a group of frogs, wearing tiny straw hats, were engaged in a surprisingly intense game of lily-pad checkers.
"Jump that one, Bart! Don't be a pollywog!" One croaked. Slamming a red lily pad down.
Another frog, Bart very likely, grumbled. "Easy for you to say, Reg. You didn't just lose your queen to a sneaky double jump!"
Nightclown stopped. These were not mere placeholders. They were arguing. Strategizing. They had names. And distinct vocal tones. This was not some low-level chatbot interaction.
His internal monologue went into overdrive. This wasn't just an interface or a simulated environment. This wasn't a game. Not in the traditional sense, anyway.
These 'NPCs' seemed... sentient. They have thoughts. Feelings. Independent actions. They were not waiting for a quest prompt. They were living their lives.