Since these players were so proactive and disciplined, Chu Guang felt it was better not to micromanage them, leaving them to exercise their own initiative.
After stacking the supplies beside the elevator, Chu Guang returned to the shelter and summoned the Manager System. Soon, completion pop-ups floated before his eyes.
[Congratulations, Host, on completing the daily quest: Stockpile Timber. Reward: Reward Points +2]
[Congratulations, Host, on completing the daily quest: Fire Cement. Reward: Reward Points +5]
The completed daily quests added up to seven reward points, not quite enough for an intermediate blind box.
Yet Chu Guang didn't mind.
His players had already figured out cement, and their grain reserves now exceeded ten kilograms. Soon, he would be able to recruit a few more players to serve as free labor.
"System, exchange all reward points for basic blind boxes!"
The reward points under Manager Allowance instantly cleared to zero.
The alloy door on the wall opened, and the conveyor belt began rolling, delivering the rewards drawn from the blind boxes.
Five lollipops, a 200-gram bar of chocolate, and a 500-gram bag of table salt. Just like before, none of them had expiration dates or brand labels.
Just how much did that dog of a first-generation manager love sweets?
Looking at the five lollipops and the chocolate, Chu Guang didn't even know how to roast the guy.
However, this snow-white table salt was truly a good thing.
Chu Guang reached out and picked it up, pleasant surprise written across his face.
The salt available in Bet Street was all coarse salt shipped in from Boulder City. Waxen yellow in appearance, it wasn't just expensive; the quality was terrible, its bitterness even overpowering the saltiness.
This kind of snow-white refined salt usually commanded an exorbitant price, completely unaffordable for ordinary survivors.
"If only there were more!"
This amount was fine for cooking, but a bit wasteful for curing bacon or making sausages.
Of course, trading it away might be a good choice. This snow-white refined salt could be traded for at least ten, twenty, or even thirty times its weight in coarse salt.
However, that carried other risks.
River Valley Province was an inland province.
Salt was a lucrative commodity second only to arms and munitions. Trading in it without sufficient strength would be somewhat foolish.
After confirming the rewards, Chu Guang opened the player list to check their log-off times from yesterday and log-in times for today.
To his surprise, Fleeting White Horse had actually leveled up?
"You can level up just by chopping trees?"
Chu Guang was stunned.
Previously, the development progress of these players' gene sequences had all been at 0%, but Fleeting White Horse's development progress had reached 1%.
The corresponding level was LV1.
On second thought, Chu Guang understood.
A physical chore like chopping trees was essentially a form of exercise. On top of that, Fleeting White Horse had a Strength-based gene sequence, so an increase in development progress wasn't surprising at all.
Gaining experience didn't necessarily require combat.
Even though combat was comparatively a shortcut...
Closing the system interface, Chu Guang sat before the computer in the residents' hall and logged into the backend of the Wasteland OL official website.
He had previously set a preregistration threshold requiring users to register an account and enter a delivery address and phone number. Chu Guang had prepared himself for growth in preregistrations to slow or even stall, yet when he opened it today, the count had climbed from 35 to 45.
Holy crap.
Were there really that many active people in the Ox and Horse Club?
Surprised, Chu Guang then logged into his QQ account and opened the gaming chat group named Ox and Horse Club. Only after scrolling through the chat history for a while did he spot some clues.
As it turned out, just yesterday, a large wave of newcomers had poured into the group, pushing the member count from just over a hundred to over two hundred.
Most of these newcomers had been invited by existing group members to spectate, and many were group-hoppers who stayed active across major gaming groups year-round.
Now, an urban legend about a "fully immersive virtual reality online game" had begun circulating in PC gaming circles.
Although most people scoffed upon hearing it, there were always one or two who believed it and went to great lengths to track down the "Ox and Horse Club" and join.
No one was sure whether the damn moderators were pulling a collective stunt, but the official website was certainly well-made.
—Chat History—
Quitting Smoking: [Why're there suddenly so many newcomers in the group? (dazed.jpg)]
Scavenging Lv99: [Big bosses! Excuse me, how do I preregister for that game? Does it cost money?]
Quitting Smoking: [Holy crap? You're all here for Wasteland OL? (shocked.jpg)]
Up Ten Times a Night: [Might as well rename the group to Wasteland OL Player Group. (funny)]
Too Proud to Care: [The closed beta doesn't cost anything. No idea about later. Just register an account and fill out a form to get in line. As for when your turn comes, depends on your luck... Sigh, unbelievable, people actually believe this.]
Quitting Smoking: [Brother Ye Shi! You guys were online last night??? Did you test any new content??? (excited)]
Up Ten Times a Night: [Tested it, tested all night. We actually made cement, haha. Ask Fang Chang, I gotta go to class, talk later.]
Quitting Smoking: [Cement???]
Scavenging Lv99: [Isn't this about scavenging trash???]
A heated discussion carried on in the group for quite a while.
Chu Guang skipped straight past the long string of nonsense and scrolled down to Fang Chang's messages.
Ample Time Ahead: [To be honest, this game's realism exceeded my expectations! Unlike most sandbox building games, logs in Wasteland OL don't magically turn into timber by themselves, nor can charcoal be crafted in a single click just by throwing wood into a furnace. You have to build a charcoal kiln first, and the firing method is basically the same as in real life. Making cement is the same—there's no one-click crafting bench; you have to start from scratch by burning plant ash.]
Quitting Smoking: [Holy crap? That realistic?!]
Ample Time Ahead: [Yes, exactly that realistic! The combat system hasn't been tested yet, but in terms of sandbox gameplay, Lao Bai and the rest of us haven't found the ceiling of this game yet!]
Ample Time Ahead: [Theoretically speaking, every material we've encountered so far can be modified according to real-world physics and chemistry. What's more, these changes to the map environment are permanent! They don't get reset or refreshed! That's what blew me away the most!]
It reminded him of Death Stranding, that "pseudo-sandbox game" where players spent their time building roads across the map.
Except this game wasn't just about building roads. Its interactive content was richer than the pixel-style Minecraft, yet its graphics didn't cut any corners—it was even more photorealistic than the racing game Forza Horizon 4 with its photographic visual fidelity.
Especially that immersive experience.
It was something he had never seen before.
In short: he couldn't praise the game enough!
Too Proud to Care: [Heh, what a joke. If it's really that amazing, I could build the city of Jinling on the wasteland.]
Spare the Life: [I don't buy it either! Far too absurd.]
Fleeting White Horse: [Cut the brag. You'll understand once you're in the game. This game is the grindiest thing I've ever seen. Every single material has to be farmed by hand, and there's no AFK farming. In other games, you can leave your PC running overnight to auto-farm mobs, but in this game, chopping just a few trees leaves your arms so sore you can barely lift them!]
Gale Force 8: [True, I felt that deep in my bones.]
Quitting Smoking: [Damn it, damn it, damn it! Hearing you guys talk about it makes me want to play so bad!!! Waaah, Brother Guang, I know you're lurking! I'm on my knees begging you, please give me a shot!!!]
Chu Guang continued scrolling down the chat history.
The damn moderators and the group owner who had gotten into the closed beta were basically showering Wasteland OL with praise, calling things like "sandbox gameplay is the GOAT" and "slated to dominate Game of the Year."
Then there were the envious players chiming in every now and then: "Paying 100k for a beta invite," "100k is too cheap, I'll pay 100 million (funny)," and so forth.
After that, the group members started discussing wilderness survival.
Perhaps intrigued by the gameplay Ample Time Ahead had described, many players who didn't believe "a fully immersive virtual reality online game truly exists" joined the conversation, throwing out ideas and strategizing.
The one who interested Chu Guang most was a group member with the handle "WC Really Has Mosquitoes."
Looking at his join date, this guy had joined only recently—a newcomer.
While everyone else was chatting wildly about the game, he was dead serious about listing eighteen uses of wood.
Things like burning charcoal and crafting furniture were just the basics.
On top of that, he mentioned the "dry distillation" of wood.
The specific principle was that baking wood in an airtight container to produce charcoal released a large volume of combustible gas and smoke rich in various organic chemical components.
This complex mixture was known collectively as "pyroligneous products," serving as chemical precursors to many chemical goods—at least until coal tar and petroleum became widely utilized.
According to this guy's description, filtering the collected condensate produced a watery solution composed of acetic acid, acetone, and methanol, along with a thick tar-like residue.
Both were complex mixtures, but fractional distillation could be used to extract the different organic chemical components from them.
Needless to say for acetic acid and methanol, but acetone was fantastic stuff. It could not only serve as an organic solvent, but also be used to produce smokeless powder!
When he read to this point, Chu Guang was completely blown away.
"Is this guy a chemical engineer?"
He instinctively clicked the person's avatar and visited his Qzone.
The space wasn't locked, making it easy to browse, but there was nothing related to chemical engineering inside—only advertisements for furniture and building materials.
Alright...
Looks like he sells furniture.
Knowing so much about wood was probably out of personal hobby.
Still, his knowledge might just come in handy here.
Chu Guang pondered for a moment, an idea instantly forming in his mind, and sent him a private message.
"Friend, interested in joining the closed beta?"
It was nine in the morning on the wasteland, which meant nine in the evening in the parallel world's China—prime time for nightlife, so he definitely wasn't asleep.
Sure enough, the guy named "WC Really Has Mosquitoes" replied with a question mark.
[?]
[Who're you?]
Chu Guang typed back.
[I'm the designer of Wasteland OL.]
WC Really Has Mosquitoes: [Holy crap?! You're the designer?]
WC Really Has Mosquitoes: [Bro, how do I test it? Does it cost money? I don't have money.]
Chu Guang explained patiently.
[No money needed. Just fill out a form. I'll send you the link.]
Though filled with doubt, WC Really Has Mosquitoes still clicked the link and entered his address and phone number on the official website's preregistration page.
However, when entering the address, he was still cautious enough to list his residential complex's courier station rather than his actual apartment number.
WC Really Has Mosquitoes: [And then? Any other procedures?]
Guang: [That's all. Send me your preregistration number. I'll flag it on my backend and notify you when you can log in three days from now.]
Creating a clone body took three days.
Just as Chu Guang was pondering what other talents the outpost lacked now that they had a carpenter, the group chat suddenly blew up.
Opening the chat, he saw that WC Really Has Mosquitoes had immediately turned around to brag to the group right after filling out the form.
[Hahahaha, brothers, I got into the closed beta!!!]
Quitting Smoking: [Holy crap? Holy crap, holy crap!]
Quitting Smoking: [Why him?! Clearly I preregistered first! T.T]
The group chat exploded in an instant.
And exploding alongside it were Chu Guang's private messages.
Looking at the long string of red notification dots, Chu Guang felt a tingling numbness on his scalp. Knowing he couldn't keep lurking, he hurriedly stepped forward to explain.
Guang: [Everyone, please calm down. The closed beta is also for the sake of everyone's gaming experience. At this stage, we need to test whether the game's various systems are fully fleshed out, so we need some players with specialized knowledge in specific fields to serve as guinea pigs.]
Quitting Smoking: [I can be a guinea pig too! I've been driving for seven years! T.T]
Spare the Life: [Tch, what does seven years of driving count for? I know how to operate an excavator!]
Too Proud to Care: [Stop arguing, all of you. Didn't you notice WC Really Has Mosquitoes only joined the group yesterday? He's probably an alt account of the damn moderators! What fully immersive virtual reality game? Trash! It's all fake!]
Who Doesn't Understand Love: [His space doesn't look like an alt...]
Quitting Smoking: [Brother Guang! I'm on my knees! Give me a chance!]
Guang: [...Wait a few more days. A few days from now, a hundred slots will be released. Trust me, everyone will have a chance!]
The group members went wild with excitement once again.
Chu Guang tried to pacify the members' emotions, but found it completely useless. At the moment, the other moderators were all in the game and couldn't help manage things here at all.
Things couldn't go on like this...
How about giving out one more slot?
Chu Guang stroked his chin in thought.
In any case, the base's grain reserves had reached about ten kilograms. With a gun, hunting would soon be possible too, so adding two more pairs of chopsticks shouldn't be an issue...
Wait, grain!
Chu Guang's eyes lit up immediately, and he tapped on his keyboard.
Guang: [By the way, we're still short a chef.]
Guang: [To test the cooking system.]
What Chu Guang hadn't expected was that after sending this message, the arguing in the group became even more intense.
Not everyone knew woodworking, but the barrier to entry for cooking was practically on the floor.
Who couldn't whip up two dishes and a soup these days?
Anyone with hands could do it!
Whether they actually knew how or not, the guys in the group bragged harder than the next. Claims like "I can make Kung Pao chicken with my eyes closed" and "Garbage, even my dog can cook that" were flying everywhere; they practically hailed themselves as reincarnations of Master Chef and gods of culinary arts descended from the heavens.
To get a closed beta slot, these netizens pulled out every stop imaginable, leaving Chu Guang utterly dumbfounded.
How the hell was he supposed to choose!
The argument dragged on for a full half-hour, only subsiding when one guy posted his New Oriental Culinary School certificate.
That thing was indeed far more convincing than empty bragging.
Chu Guang immediately announced the recipient of the sixth closed beta slot. After getting the preregistration number via private message, he logged off at lightning speed.
Chapter 18