The first thing I saw was a list of disciplines. Eight of them, like skill trees in some RPG, only instead of virtual skills there was real, potentially deadly knowledge. They didn't just hang in the air — they seemed etched in light against the dark interface. Each had a short but pithy description.
Herbology (The Power of Nature) is a discipline focused on using plants to create healing and enhancing compounds. My first thought was skeptical. Herbology? It sounded like a class at a wizarding school, something for straight-A girls and botanists. I imagined endless hours of grinding roots with a pestle and mortar. But then it dawned on me. This is the Marvel world. A world where a heart-shaped herb that grants superpowers grows in Wakanda, and living trees roam somewhere in space. I immediately realized we weren't talking about daisies and plantains here. More likely, I'd be chasing after some "moon daisy" that blooms once every hundred years on the peaks of the Himalayas, or "whispering moss" from the caves of Asgard. Promising, no doubt. Creating serums that enhance strength or regeneration is a direct path to the big leagues. But logistics could be problematic, to put it mildly. I'm a broke student in Hell's Kitchen. I'd have to scrape together enough money to ride the subway, let alone an expedition to Tibet. So yes, it's tempting, but that's a game for the rich and powerful. Put that aside for now.
Chemistry (Transformation of Matter) is the science of mixing substances to produce new, often dangerous compounds. Now that's more to the point. No abstract alchemy with miracle herbs, the philosopher's stone, or the transmutation of lead into gold. In theory, it's all about precise formulas, reactions, and reagents. Chemistry is the basis of everything: from household cleaners to the most sophisticated poisons and explosives. It's the sticky web Spider-Woman uses to pin bandits to walls, and acid that can burn through a bank vault. Dangerous? Absolutely. I'm no chemist, and one mistake — one wrong drop or one extra degree of heat — could cost me this wretched apartment or even my life. I vividly imagined how a stray spark could turn my flat into a miniature hellscape with toxic smoke and furniture clinging to the walls. But the potential is enormous. And most importantly, it's accessible. Many reagents, albeit in dirty form, can be obtained from common household items. It's risky and messy, but possible. Keep it on the list.
Explosives (Controlled Chaos) is the art of creating and using explosives. The name said it all. Straightforward and unvarnished. Not "pyrotechnics," but "explosives." I mentally pictured the headlines in the Daily Bugle: "Mysterious Hell's Kitchen Bomber Strikes Again!" No, thanks. Attracting the attention of S.H.I.E.L.D., the FBI, and other men in black wasn't part of my plan. I'm a builder by nature, not a destroyer. But the cynical, practical part of my brain suggested another thought. Explosives aren't just bombs — they are smoke bombs for retreat, flashbangs for disorienting an enemy, shaped charges for breaching armored doors. A tool: powerful and scary. Learning the recipes was worth it, at least for general knowledge and to understand what to expect from others. So I'll study it, but I won't build bombs.
Blacksmithing (Metal Art) is the processing of metal to create armor and weapons. Here the artisan in me woke up. The line vibrated, touching something deep: the smell of hot metal and coal, the deafening yet rhythmic crash of a hammer on an anvil, the hiss of red-hot steel plunged in water… I could almost feel it. This was mine. A true, honest craft. But reality doused me with cold water. A forge? In my one-room studio? Even using a hammer drill is a hassle with the neighbors, not to mention a forge that would burn out the wiring and start a fire. This is a goal for the distant future, when I have my own garage or workshop. A dream worth striving for.
Gunsmithing (Thunder and Steel) is the creation and modification of firearms. Hmm. I'm in the U.S. Here, you can buy a gun at a store with a permit, sometimes even without one. Wasting time and resources on making a flintlock steampunk pistol that's inferior to factory models is stupid. I'm not a gunsmith, and a homemade gun will probably explode in my hands. But what if the recipes suggest something exotic? A railgun in rifle form? A plasma cutter? An electromagnetic accelerator that shoots ball bearings? Or even just a modification: the perfect silencer, non-lethal ammunition, smart sights. Now that's different. This direction depends heavily on what the System suggests. For now, it stays in the "view" list.
Electricity (Spark of Life) — harnessing electrical power to create amazing devices. In the world where Tony Stark lives, this is a key area. Electricity is the language of modern technology: weapons, defense, and the energy for future projects. From a simple stun gun to complex microcircuits, power sources like an arc reactor or even EMP generators. The potential is limitless. But the barrier to entry is high. It's not just adding plus to minus — it's physics, mathematics, and circuit design. Although, given the curriculum, I can imagine schematics that include the option to "charge with Thor's lightning" or "connect to a Tesseract." I need to study it more, but without a foundation in other disciplines, like Mechanics, I won't get far.
Mechanics (Motion and Logic) — the design and creation of complex mechanisms and automatons. That's it. That's my thing. It isn't just fixing stools; it's building complex devices. Mechanics is the backbone of any gadget: gears, levers, actuators, hydraulics. Want to make a cool gun? You need mechanics. Want a robot assistant? Mechanics. An exoskeleton? Again, mechanics. Unlike blacksmithing, you can start small: dismantle old equipment, raid junkyards, build from scrap. This is the direct path to useful gadgets that will make my life and work in other fields easier. Resources and a workspace help, but you can begin with one thing. The recipes allow beginning small. This is the foundation.