Its only effect is making you permanently paranoid it changed you.
Switch your highest numerical stat and your lowest numerical stat.
Your teeth are all now made of silver.
You've begun to float roughly four feet off the ground. You can propel yourself slowly by humming.
You can temporarily hear the thoughts of your closest ally.
Your every thought is temporarily narrated by a particularly enthusiastic (but incompetent) bard.
When you talk, it's with the voice of whoever is physically nearest to you.
You have several extra kidneys. You're not aware of this, but your mortician will be quite confused.
A ghostly double of you is repeating everything you do on a six-second delay.
Whoops you're a vampire now. Alternately, Whoops you're a boring mortal now.
[Continue to play your character as normal, but notate as your character's frustrated guardian angel]
It all makes sense! Everything is clear to you! It's time to go kill God!
The three extra legs will be a difficult adjustment.
You're blind! But you dimly remember an ancient herbal remedy. Guess that's your quest now.
You can now shoot fire from your eyes at will.
Food and sleep aren't necessary to you now.
Your class just changed to whatever would be most comedic at this moment.
Currency dissolves into a runny sticky syrup when you touch it.
All the wizards of the world are now keenly interested in obtaining your lungs.
Your blood now inherently disables all magic, including whatever you cast. Carry some bandages.
You are fully healed, but only for the next 24 hours. If you don't drink milk by then, you collapse dead.
Today's now your lucky day. Only today. Tomorrow is gonna be unlucky.
Cramps in your lower gut. Aw crap..
Instantly teleport to a spot of land as physically far from civilization as possible.
Pop! 100 years in the future.
Fizz! 100 years in the past.
You wake up with no memory of the last 12 hours.
Jeff, wake up, please, they're going to pull the plug tomorrow, please Jeff, hear me!
All it did is taste like apples.
People can't say your name anymore.
You have a sudden intense urge to become a novelist.
Your legs are on the wrong way round.
Your scabs turn to solid gold. To pick or not to pick?
Huh. It's a resurrection potion. Hope you saved some.
Your backstory was a magically fabricated lie. You just remembered the truth.
You feel uniquely stabby now.
You're not really sure what the potion did, but now you're craving something called a "Baconator".
Time briefly runs slow around you. The next few minutes might feel long, but use them wisely.
You were never this persuasive before.
A magical inn springs up around you sans staff.
The next 5 years will be spent in the form of a sentient sword. Take extensive notes about that experience.
Your hand is now an enchanted item that others covet and wish to steal.
Your dreams feed you false prophecies that you deem to be real.
Your nemesis gets a twitch in their eye when they look in your general direction. This can be used to hunt you.
You can't form new memories.
If you dump a cauldron, its contents will always be a bunch of the local currency.
Your skin can only be broken by wood.
Your terminal velocity is too slow to terminate you.
This point in time is now a respawn forever. Be careful not to lose your progress...
You are transformed into immortal knight of absolute kindness, Betty White. Go forth and save the world.