How to Play a Sandbox Game

Inside Linghu Wetland Park, outside the abandoned sanatorium, wooden stakes of varying sizes and thicknesses stood planted in the ground. "I heard that freshly cut wood will crack and warp if it isn't treated," Fleeting White Horse said with a frown, leaning on his axe as he looked at the logs piled haphazardly against the wall. Fang Chang asked, "How is it usually treated?" Fleeting White Horse replied, "Bake out the moisture in the wood, or paint both ends and wait for it to air-dry naturally. You can also soak it in water, but once you fish it out, it's a lot harder to work with... Let's just hope it doesn't rain over the next few days." Fleeting White Horse made a rough estimate. Counting yesterday's haul, if they cut all these trees into logs three to four meters long, sharpened the ends, and drove them into the ground, there would be more than enough to rebuild the north and west walls of the sanatorium. The only problem was that these logs were completely untreated. Their durability could hardly be guaranteed, and a few good rains might rot them through. So after talking it over with Fang Chang, he decided on a different approach: use cement as the building material. There was plenty of concrete rubble across the wasteland, and quite a bit right inside the sanatorium. Weathered by time, thermal expansion and contraction, wind, and rain, most of the concrete chunks that had stripped away from rebar had crumbled into gravel and debris. Relying on these materials to be sturdy was out of the question. However, mixing them with cement and reinforcing them with steel bars pulled from the ruins would easily be enough to build simple concrete fortifications. Although it would basically be jerry-rigged shoddy construction, it would still be vastly superior to wood. Besides, it wasn't as if they were trying to build a skyscraper. Still, to make use of this concrete waste, they needed cement first. And to produce cement, they would first need enough coal and a kiln capable of withstanding temperatures of 1,450 degrees Celsius. Just then, Gale Force 8 and Ye Shi returned. Fang Chang noticed that the plastic bucket Gale Force 8 was carrying was filled to the brim with smooth, uniform mud. "There's a river east of Lake Ling that isn't on the map—it probably formed within the last two hundred years. We scouted the entire shoreline from east to south, and we've marked all the mutant activity zones and suspected nest locations on the map." As he spoke, Gale Force 8 had Ye Shi pull out the map, which had several markings drawn in charcoal. With this map, fetching water from the lake would be much safer. However, Fang Chang's attention was fixed on the bucket in his hand. "What's in the bucket...?" "Found it by the river," Gale Force 8 said, setting the bucket on the ground. "It hit me that we might be able to use it as building material, so I hauled it back." "This won't work as building material; water would wash it right away." Crouching down, Fleeting White Horse scooped up a bit of mud, rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger. A look of excitement suddenly washed over his face. "Still, this stuff is fantastic. Our kiln is taken care of." "Kiln?" Ye Shi blinked. "Fleeting White Horse and I talked it over. We're planning to make cement," Fang Chang said. Gale Force 8 looked at him in surprise. "Will... will that work?" "Why wouldn't it? Isn't this a sandbox game?" Fleeting White Horse stood up, speaking excitedly. "Just dump the mud right here. You two go fetch a few more buckets. Fang Chang, help me gather some branches. Move fast!" "On it!" Fang Chang headed off full of energy. Gale Force 8 and Ye Shi exchanged bewildered looks, but went off as well, completely baffled. ... The river wasn't deep, but there was plenty of silt and clay along its banks. It wasn't far from the sanatorium either, so it didn't take much effort to haul back a sizable pile. Fleeting White Horse shaped the mud into a circular enclosure, digging two holes on the sides as air vents. Inside the ring of mud, he placed charcoal left over from earlier cooking along with dry leaves, lighting it with matches the manager had left behind. The fire soon caught. The surrounding mud slowly began to bake dry. Scooping up fresh mud with his bare hands, Fleeting White Horse layered it onto the kiln walls as it baked. Once the structure reached mid-thigh height, he began stuffing thumb-thick sticks inside. "What are you doing now?" Fang Chang asked curiously. Although he had played survival games before, he had never done such meticulous work in one. "Making charcoal! Without coal, charcoal is our only substitute. Burning plain wood won't cut it if we want to make cement. We have to start from square one." "How do you even know this?" "I messed around with it back home when I was a kid." "..." *Messed around with it, huh.* *Who the hell does this for fun as a kid?* Standing up, Fleeting White Horse clapped his hands together and began sealing the top of the kiln before the fire could fully ignite the firewood. This step was crucial. Before the wood caught fully ablaze, he needed to leave an opening at the top until the kiln's internal temperature rose high enough. Then, he would seal every opening with mud, letting the wood smother and bake inside for a full day. By tomorrow, they would have a whole kiln full of charcoal. "If you plug all the holes, won't the fire go out?" "It won't go out right away, and that's precisely the point." Fleeting White Horse wiped his sweat and patted Fang Chang on the shoulder. "Don't just stand there either. Let's build a few more kilns, and while we're at it, get the one for burning cement tomorrow ready too." "Got it..." Fang Chang wasn't the only one recruited into Fleeting White Horse's "construction crew." Once they finished hauling enough mud, Gale Force 8 and Ye Shi were drafted as well. Working together, the four players built four earthen kilns for making charcoal, plus a slightly larger one using the aluminosilicate clay they had dug up from the riverbank. According to Fleeting White Horse, they could try firing some cement tomorrow. He planned to make wood ash cement. Cement produced by this primitive method required little technical sophistication and wasn't overly reliable, but it was certainly better than wood. Furthermore, once he had wood ash cement, he could attempt to construct a proper cement kiln capable of withstanding higher temperatures. Fleeting White Horse had already made up his mind to look up reference materials online once he logged off. "Damn it... I finally get why the manager told us to figure out a bathhouse." Sniffing the stench of sweat all over himself, Ye Shi—who was somewhat of a clean freak to begin with—felt like he was suffocating from his own odor. This game was way too damn hardcore. "Why don't we take a dip in the lake before logging off?" Fleeting White Horse suggested. "I'm all for it... But speaking of which, where's the manager? It's almost time to log off—how come he isn't back yet?" Gale Force 8 asked. "Maybe he got held up by something." "Then how do we let him know what we accomplished this afternoon?" Ye Shi asked quickly. Fang Chang glanced at the sanatorium behind them. "No need to worry about that. I already spoke to that robot, Xiao Qi. It said it's recorded our progress and will report everything accurately to the manager." Hearing that, Ye Shi finally relaxed. ... While the players logged off one after another, took off their helmets, and got out of bed to begin a new day, Chu Guang, still in Bet Street, was carefully removing the plastic bucket beneath his water purifier. Bet Street had a communal well, and every household had its own water collector. Chu Guang was no exception. Aside from "glowing rain" laden with radioactive fallout or days when the clouds looked noticeably abnormal, rainwater on the wasteland was generally quite safe under normal conditions—safer, even, than in the pre-war era. After all, two hundred years had passed since the fall of civilization; hallmarks of industrial society like acid rain and smog were rarely seen here. Even so, drinking rainwater directly was hardly wise. By cutting a plastic water bottle in half, Chu Guang lined the bottom near the spout with dried pine needles and moss fibers, then topped them with crushed charcoal ash. With that, a rudimentary water filter was complete. Whether graphite could absorb radiation, Chu Guang didn't know. But in these distant suburbs far from nuclear craters, radiation wasn't the primary threat to survival anyway—diarrhea and dehydration were. He still remembered his first month living here. He had suffered watery diarrhea almost every other day, nearly succumbing to his own gut rather than dying at the hands of mutants. "Less than ten liters... A drop in the bucket." Looking around at the jars and bottles in the shack, Chu Guang let out a sigh. The supplies he had stockpiled for so many days were already nearly exhausted after the players had been around for just a few days. He had to figure out a solution. Just then, a knock sounded at the door. Chu Guang got up, walked over, pulled the bolt, and opened it. Xiaoyu stood in the doorway with her hands behind her back, her dark, glossy eyes staring unblinkingly at him without a word. Just as Chu Guang was about to greet her, he suddenly remembered the marriage proposal Yu Hu had brought up earlier, and a wave of awkwardness washed over him. Even taking a step back: Even if Shelter 404, the system, and the players didn't exist, and he had been left all alone with no choice but to assimilate into local society... he still couldn't bring himself to do something like that! She was far too skinny. At the very least, she needed a couple more years to grow up. "Is something the matter?" Chu Guang asked evenly. Yu Xiaoyu brought out the arm she had hidden behind her back. Only then did Chu Guang see that she was clutching a small, blackened flatbread, almost certainly molded from boiled green wheat mash. "My second brother told me to bring this to you. He told me to tell you that I made it for you." She recited the words one by one. All those convoluted pronouns threw Chu Guang for a loop. It took him a moment to untangle that Yu Hu had sent her to deliver the bread. "Uh, thanks?" "You're welcome." Shoving the flatbread into Chu Guang's hands, Xiaoyu spun around and dashed off like the wind, leaving Chu Guang standing alone in bewildered silence. ... The real world. Jinling. Removing his helmet, Yan Feng rubbed the bridge of his nose, felt around on his bedside table, and found his glasses to put on. He sat on the edge of the bed for quite a while to collect himself before heading to the bathroom. After washing up, he threw on a jacket, went downstairs, hopped onto his bicycle, and leisurely pedaled over to the cafeteria. It was five-thirty in the morning. Aside from students studying for postgraduate entrance exams, hardly anyone visited the cafeteria at this hour. The entire hall was deserted, save for a few service windows open near the entrance. The cafeteria lady bustling behind the counter recognized this regular patron immediately and beamed at him. "Up so early today, Professor Yan?" "Yeah, went to bed pretty early last night... Two steamed buns, please." "They just went into the steamer. You'll have to wait a moment." "No rush." Yan Feng took out his meal card and tapped it against the reader. The steam rising from the bamboo baskets smelled wonderful. Yan Feng loved the scent—it felt comforting and warm. Unfortunately, it wasn't particularly kind to someone wearing glasses. Taking off his glasses to wipe away the fog, Yan Feng couldn't help but think of his character in Wasteland OL. His avatar in the virtual world had a slightly lower base Strength stat, but it was still far stronger than his real-life self. And most importantly, his virtual self didn't have nearsightedness. Just then, someone patted him on the shoulder. Yan Feng put his glasses back on and turned around to see Professor Wang Haiyang. "Have a morning lecture?" "None. Couldn't sleep, so I got up." "And here I thought you physics guys always pulled all-nighters." "Common misconception. I rarely bring work home." Yan Feng pushed up his glasses. An idea suddenly striking him, he looked at his colleague. "Right, there's something I wanted to ask your opinion on." Professor Wang Haiyang raised an eyebrow. "About what we discussed yesterday?" Yan Feng nodded. "Yeah." "Hold on, let me ask first—that novel you mentioned, you aren't writing it yourself, are you?" Professor Wang said with a chuckle. "With fiction, plausible-sounding is good enough. If it mirrors reality down to the last detail, it actually ruins the fun." "It's not actually a novel. To be frank, it's... a game." "A game?" "Yeah." Taking the steamed buns from the cafeteria lady, Yan Feng peeled open the plastic bag and took a bite. "A post-apocalyptic one." Professor Wang Haiyang grew intrigued and asked, "Care to elaborate?" "I don't know the specifics either. It's in closed alpha right now, so there isn't much I'm aware of." Yan Feng paused for a moment. "How advanced would a society have to be for automobiles to operate without onboard power sources?" "No power source?" Professor Wang blinked, then smiled. "Do you mean using wireless power transmission instead of onboard batteries?" "Is that difficult?" Yan Feng asked. "Whether it's difficult depends on how you look at it. Strictly speaking from my field... wireless power transmission itself isn't hard. The real challenge lies in securing clean, cheap energy to the point where even if power transmission losses reach ninety percent or higher, the costs remain acceptable." At this point, Professor Wang paused, adding in a joking tone, "Aside from the controlled nuclear fusion depicted in science fiction, I can't think of a better solution." *Nuclear fusion?* Yan Feng wore a thoughtful look. "I see..." It seemed the worldbuilding behind Wasteland OL was vastly grander than he had imagined. There had to be plenty of depth waiting to be uncovered. "When do you plan to publish your novel? Mind letting me take a look?" Professor Wang joked. "Who knows, I might even be able to offer a few pointers." Yan Feng shot him a look. "I already told you, it's not a novel." "All right, all right, whatever you say." Taking his breakfast from the cafeteria lady, Wang Haiyang smiled, patted his colleague on the shoulder, and said, "I have a class to teach, so I'll be off. Best of luck!"