I don’t know who needs to hear this, but here we go.
Influence isn’t just some pile of Paragon Pesos you can slide across the table like you’re tipping the bartender at Pocket D. Influence is earned. It’s the lifeblood of your heroic reputation — the nod of respect from the shopkeep when you stroll in wearing a cape still smoldering from yesterday’s Hami raid.
When you “buy” an enhancement from a vendor, you’re not really buying it. You think the guy at Cooke’s Electronics is swiping your debit card? Please. He’s giving it to you because your influence says you deserve it. Just like a diner might comp a police officer’s meal — except instead of free coffee, it’s a level 35 SO that lets you melt Clockwork like butter.
Influence is personal. You have to keep earning it with good deeds, daring rescues, and the occasional giant monster smackdown. Stop doing the work, and your influence fades. Hit zero, and you’ve got no stroke, no pull — Serge at Icon won’t even let you try on that new cape. “Sorry, champ, we save the good stuff for the people actually saving lives.”
Now imagine you could trade influence. That’s like your sidekick‑wannabe walking into Wentworth’s, pointing at a bin of D‑Sync Provocation IOs, and saying, “Don’t worry, I know Super Bob. Load me up.” You try walking out that door and see how fast the PPD drones drop from the sky to zap you for shoplifting.
Influence trading doesn’t make sense in lore, and it never has. You can’t hand someone your reputation. You can’t say, “Here, take half of my street cred.” That’s not how trust works in Paragon City… or anywhere else.
So let’s keep it pure. Let’s keep it earned. And if you want more influence? Do what every real hero does: get out there, save some lives, punch some Freakshow in the face, and let your legend grow.
Or — you know — work that auction house like an ebil marketeer.