Without rules, nothing can be accomplished.
Especially when dealing with players who lived to stir up trouble, there was no room for softheartedness.
[Shelter Resident Handbook Version 1.0]
[1. The manager's orders supersede everything. All residents of the shelter must obey unconditionally.]
[2. Against residents who violate regulations, the manager reserves the right to employ the ultimate measures of "forced hibernation" and "confinement." (Note: Forced hibernation is equivalent to being kicked from the game; confinement constitutes a login ban.)]
[3. The manager retains the right of final interpretation for all the above terms.]
Being kicked from the game for breaking rules was already far beyond the authority of an ordinary NPC.
Seeing the note appended to the second rule of the handbook, the players understood completely: the NPC standing before them was not just an NPC, but possessed partial GM privileges as well, capable of "banning" anyone who disrupted the gameplay experience of others.
With so few people right now, three rules were enough for the time being. If additions were needed later, Chu Guang would consider rolling out Version 2.0, or even Version 20.0.
For instance, rules governing interactions between players, interactions between players and "NPCs," lists of prohibited in-game actions, and so forth.
Running a round of closed testing before the Alpha test was half intended for this very purpose.
The space inside the shelter wasn't large. While twenty-some rooms sounded like a lot, each was actually quite cramped, stuffed to the brim with four incubation pods.
The previous manager seemed to have feared Chu Guang would slack off and idle his life away, so he had stripped the entire B1 level bare, leaving behind not a single good thing.
Chu Guang did not linger in the shelter. After laying down the ground rules, he led the four players and Xiao Qi onto the elevator heading up to the surface.
The four closed-beta players were obedient enough, giving him plenty of face as manager. Their curiosity, however, was bordering on excessive.
From the moment their feet touched the floor, they were like Granny Liu touring the Grand View Garden, touching left, peeking right, wanting to get their hands on everything along the way.
From head to toe, not a single cell in their bodies could sit still!
The elevator came to a steady halt.
Watching the sunlight stream past broken windows and spill in front of the elevator doors, the four players once again let out a collective gasp of wide-eyed awe.
"Holy shit..."
"The lighting! The walls! Th-th-this..."
"This is fucking insane!"
"Sunlight piercing the cracks of concrete ruins, falling on little blades of grass pushing up through the floor, visible motes of dust drifting in the beams... Every single frame is art! Every second is money burning!"
"Badass! Brother Ri really is cultured after all!"
"Fuck off, call me Brother Fang!"
"Sure thing, Brother Lai Ri."
"..."
A bunch of country bumpkins...
Chu Guang found it somewhat amusing, but it was understandable. He feigned ignorance, fulfilled his duty as an NPC, and led them outside the sanatorium.
Glancing at the tools laid out on the ground, Chu Guang turned to face them.
"As you can see, the nuclear war ended two centuries ago."
"We are currently located in the far northern outskirts of Qingquan City, far from the nuclear craters. Unless we encounter Glowing Rain or visible radioactive clouds, you need not worry too much about excessive gamma radiation."
"The shelter cannot protect us forever, nor can our civilization hide beneath the ruins indefinitely. Remember: we are the vanguard returning to the surface. Behind us, tens of thousands of people are waiting for good news. There is no time to waste."
"The first task before us is to repair this sanatorium beneath our feet and establish an outpost on these ruins."
"It will become our bridgehead for returning to the surface."
"Here is your mission: pick up the axes on the ground and chop some wood outside."
"Before winter sets in, we must stockpile enough fuel and patch up the broken walls around us."
"Do not wander too far. If you encounter any mutants, do not act rashly. Fall back immediately."
"Move out!"
Chu Guang had expected he would need to waste plenty of breath coaxing them.
To his surprise, the players proved far more obedient than imagined, grabbing the axes with brisk efficiency and heading out to work.
Their swift movements made it look as if they couldn't wait for him to finish talking, terrified he would delay them from getting to work.
"Master, are these guys really okay?" Following beside him, Xiao Qi voiced its concern. It always felt these clones were a bit touched in the head.
"That's why I had you come out too." Chu Guang glanced up at the sanatorium behind him, paused for a beat, and continued, "Go up to the third floor, keep watch by the north-facing window, and let me know if they run into trouble or wander too far."
As for himself, he needed to check the rewards for completing the mission first.
The wastebasket standing beside Chu Guang didn't move.
After a moment, Xiao Qi spoke in a small voice.
"...Master."
"What is it?"
"Um, I don't have feetsies."
The motorized wastebasket circled Chu Guang's calf, demonstrating its mode of locomotion. Only then did Chu Guang realize the little fellow had been gliding around on four pairs of caster wheels the entire time.
"...Fine, I'll carry you up."
With a sigh, Chu Guang bent down and hoisted it onto his shoulder.
*Damn.*
*It's pretty heavy.*
***
*Crack, crack—*
*Thud!*
A tree as thick as a thigh slowly toppled over, hitting the ground with a dull crash.
"I don't think this feels like a wasteland."
"Then what does it feel like?"
"More like *The Forest*... I don't know if you've played it, but in that game, you chop trees just like this and build houses."
"A co-op classic, of course I have. Not only played it, I even built my base in the sky. But building there was way easier—just click the mouse. Unlike here... damn, this axe is heavy."
"Speaking of the setting, I actually think this is pretty realistic. I remember watching a documentary about returning to Chernobyl. After forty years without human disturbance, it evolved into a whole new ecosystem. Vines covered the buildings, and trees grew taller than houses... This game is set two hundred years after the apocalypse, right? It's totally plausible. I'd bet the situation inside the city is even crazier."
Looking at the mess behind him, Old Bai wiped away his sweat and clicked his tongue.
"If this were real life, logging like this would probably land us behind bars for good."
They had been hard at work for two hours.
Though their efficiency was nothing to boast about—leaving behind stumps that looked like they had been gnawed on by dogs—they had managed to fell a dozen thigh-thick pines, along with countless thinner ones.
However, the manager hadn't specified an amount, so none of them could say for sure whether this was enough.
"Fair's fair, the realism in this game is insane... whether it's the blunt impact of the axe striking the trunk, the flying wood chips, or the sunlight filtering through the leaves, it reminds me of—"
"Alright, alright, cut the bullshit."
Interrupting Fang Chang's waxing poetic, Ye Shi propped himself against his axe, looked at the scattered branches and autumn leaves on the ground, and panted.
"Since we can chop trees, building houses and farming shouldn't be an issue either, right?"
The physical capabilities of this in-game body were far stronger than his real one.
In reality, Ye Shi was the type hollowed out by nine years of compulsory education, but in the wasteland, he could actually flex a respectable pair of biceps.
Of course, the one having the most fun was Fleeting White Horse—Old Bai.
Though his character wasn't much to look at, sporting a scruffy stubble of a beard, rolling up his sleeves revealed pure muscle that looked undeniably powerful.
"If we want to farm, I suggest setting a fire, working the plant ash into the soil, and once winter passes, come spring we'll have fertile land... Provided the game really is that realistic, of course. Otherwise it's just wasted effort."
"Speaking of which, I've been wondering why Old Bai looks ripped like a gym rat, while I can barely lift this axe."
Kuang Feng was breathing heavily.
His character's physical stamina was probably the closest to reality among them all. After working for just a short while, he was already spent.
"Every character definitely has different stats... though I have no idea how they're determined." Fang Chang rubbed the back of his head, pondered for a moment, and said, "But I do have a theory."
"What theory?"
The other three were quite interested in his insight.
Anyone who had hung around the Ox and Horse Club for a while knew that this guy was part of guide-writing teams for several single-player titles and owned the largest Steam library in the group.
Whether it was FPS, RPG, or SLG, there wasn't a genre he hadn't touched.
"You must have noticed that we woke up from silver canisters. Given the game's theme, there are two narrative possibilities. One: we were preserved through cryo-stasis from before the war until now. Two: we're clones."
"Personally, I think the latter makes more sense. It makes explaining respawning effortless—just synthesize a new body using the DNA stored in the incubation pods."
Looking at the intrigued players, Fang Chang continued.
"My guess is that stat screens and levels will be added in later stages. The differences in our physical stamina right now are probably foreshadowing for that!"
"I'm really hoping the dev team comes up with a unique mechanic. For example... tying DNA to a class system, distinguishing strength-based players from agility-based players, and setting different attribute growth curves. That would ensure freedom while enriching gameplay."
"Too bad character generation was randomized. It'd be nice if we could choose our starting stats."
Talking until his mouth was parched, Fang Chang finally stopped.
"Enough chatting. Once I log off, I'll talk to Brother Guang."
Brother Guang had mentioned he was the planner for this game. Talking to the planner directly would definitely be far more useful than blind speculation out here.
At that moment, Ye Shi, who had been staring blankly into the distance, suddenly spoke up.
"Hey, how big do you think this map actually is?"
"No idea."
"What do you think would happen if I just kept walking in one direction...?"
Seeing Ye Shi eager to try, Kuang Feng, who was resting on his axe nearby, hesitated before saying, "Most likely an invisible wall, or maybe a scripted death... but whichever it is, I suggest you don't do it."
"Did you forget? The manager told us not to wander too far from the sanatorium."
"Come on, he's just an NPC. You're actually listening to him?"
"He can force us offline, and he can revoke our closed-beta access," Kuang Feng reminded him.
Fang Chang chimed in as well.
"Yeah, and given how smart the NPCs are in this game, I suspect there might be a hidden affection system. If you pay attention, his attitude toward each of us isn't entirely identical. There's definitely underlying algorithmic logic behind it."
"Fine, fine, fine, I won't try it."
Hearing that, even the most restless Ye Shi settled down.
He had no choice.
That argument was simply too devastating.
Anyone with eyes could see the value embedded in this game.
Full-dive virtual reality...
Once such technology hit the market, it would completely upend entertainment—and even the very lifestyle—of modern society!
Even someone who disliked video games wouldn't mind having an extra eight to twelve hours in a day compared to everyone else, right?
According to Brother Guang in the group chat, time spent in the game world counted as sleeping in reality.
In other words, spending an entire night here wouldn't affect the next day's work at all!
It was truly unimaginable that a game destined to shake the world would launch its closed beta in such a haphazard, almost silent manner.
Didn't that company need to make money?
Regardless, now that the opportunity had fallen into their hands, none of them were willing to let it slip away.
Just as Ye Shi abandoned his impulse to explore the map boundaries and prepared to resume chopping wood like a good boy, a sharp sense of impending doom suddenly washed over him.
His hands and feet went ice-cold.
Cold sweat broke out across his back.
He had no idea where the foreboding came from, yet he seemed to envision his own gruesome death—
His legs gave out, and he stumbled backward. But it was precisely that stumble that allowed him to dodge the dark shadow plummeting from the sky.
*Riiip—!*
Wood splinters sprayed in all directions.
Three claw marks half a foot wide were gouged deep into the trunk beside him!
*"Skreeech—!"*
Like the wail of a vengeful ghost!
Missing its target, the diving giant bird used the recoil of its kick against the pine to flap its wings, rapidly regaining altitude before vanishing into the treetops.
Staring at the fallen black feathers, Ye Shi slumped on the ground, completely dazed, instinctively clutching his head.
*What the actual fuck?*
Chapter 7