Something kept bothering me.
Not in the existential dread way—this was more like the feeling you get when you realize you forgot to save a file.
I'd built systems.Defined mechanics.Created classes.
But I hadn't actually specified how anyone saw any of this.
That… felt like a problem.
"Okay," I muttered, reopening the interface. "How are people even checking their stats right now?"
I focused.
And realized the answer was: inconsistently.
Some beings were feeling growth.Some were sensing power.Some were operating purely on instinct.
Which was fine, I guess, but also incredibly messy.
I grimaced.
"Yeah, no. That's going to cause arguments."
I didn't want:
Dreams
Visions
Metaphors
Symbolism
Or some 'the system speaks through your soul' nonsense
I was human.
I liked numbers.
If something existed, you should be able to see it.
So I fixed it.
The Decision
I could have made different interfaces for different races.
Instinct-based for beasts.Abstract overlays for gods.Sensory feedback for monsters.
But that required thinking.
And more importantly, it required caring.
"I really don't want to design this more than once," I said flatly.
Uniformity solved a lot of problems.
So I made one interface.
For everyone.
The UI Itself
I didn't get fancy.
I didn't innovate.
I didn't philosophize.
I made the most generic system screen imaginable.
A see-through screen, floating in front of the user.
Clean.Flat.Minimalist.
If I had to describe it, it looked like an iOS-style overlay—but translucent enough that you could still see the world behind it.
No borders.
No glow.
No dramatic effects.
Just information.
How It Appears
The UI does not appear automatically.
There are no pop-ups.
No level-up fireworks.
No intrusive alerts.
To see it, you have to:
Think of the system
Intend to see your status
That's it.
Intent mattered.
Not because of philosophy—but because I didn't want people seeing stat screens every time they blinked.
Once that intent was there, the screen appeared.
Centered.Stable.Perfectly readable.
What It Shows
Text only.
Numbers only.
No symbols.
No icons.
No diagrams.
Just words and values.
STATUS Name: Race: Class: Level: HP: MP: Attributes: STR: AGI: VIT: INT: WIS: LUK: Active Skills: Passive Skills: Titles:
Scroll down for more.
Tap—well, focus—to open submenus.
I leaned back and stared at it.
"…Yeah. That works."
Language Handling
I didn't even think about this part consciously.
It just felt obvious.
The text automatically appeared in whatever language the user understood best.
Not learned language.
Not written language.
Understood language.
I didn't question how that worked.
Admins didn't need to know implementation details.
(It would have been awkward if I'd realized the truth right then.)
No Abstraction. No Interpretation.
The UI does not:
Hint
Symbolize
Metaphorize
Adapt emotionally
It tells you exactly what the system says you are.
If mortals want to:
Argue over meaning
Turn numbers into destiny
Write philosophy about Luck stats
That's on them.
I wasn't going to help.
Why This Matters (Even If I Didn't Think About It)
I didn't realize it at the time, but this decision did something important.
By making the UI:
Visible
Uniform
Textual
Quantified
I removed ambiguity.
Everyone saw the same reality.
A peasant and a king could look at their screens and know, objectively, who was stronger.
Which meant:
Hierarchies would form
Resentment would grow
Ambition would sharpen
All because I wanted something easy to read.
Finalizing the Interface
I locked the UI.
Not permanently.
Just… for now.
I could update it later.
Change layouts.
Add fields.
Remove things that caused problems.
But this was good enough.
And good enough was my favorite design philosophy.
Somewhere in the world, the first human stopped mid-step.
They thought about their strength.
And for the first time, saw it.
Numbers.Words.Cold. Clear. Undeniable.
They didn't know where it came from.
They didn't know why it looked like this.
They would eventually decide it was divine.
Or cosmic.
Or fate.
I closed the menu and sighed.
"…Alright," I said. "That's done."
I paused.
Then frowned.
"…Wait."
I opened the interface again.
Looked at it.
Really looked at it.
"…Why does this look so familiar?"
The answer hovered just out of reach.
I ignored it.
Because there were still things left to do.
And the world, now with a screen in front of its eyes, had officially begun to measure itself.