Prologue: Project Dawn
There was a game called Project: Dawn. What a delicious game it was. Gorgeous graphics, dynamic motion capture, a story packed to the brim. Nothing about it fell short. The only flaw was that the difficulty was a tad too brutal for your average player.
And among all the headaches, the worst offender was the Doctor. According to the lore, he'd only undergone the most minor body modifications, but somehow this bastard's physique let him survive kill after kill, turning what should have been an early-game boss into the final boss.
Of course, by then, the Doctor had iteratively rebuilt his body with the virus until he was no longer remotely human. I have no idea how many times I challenged him. Around the hundredth attempt, I gave up counting, and even after that, I spent a full week grinding strategies just for him.
So, after finally conquering the Doctor, did it feel refreshing? Hell no—I wanted to say it felt like pure dogshit. What the fuck did I screw up? The bastard started cackling like a maniac, and instead of the happy ending I'd been chasing, a bad end screen popped up.
"Somehow you cleared the final boss, but you failed to clean up the shit the Doctor scattered everywhere. Mankind's doomed to virus extinction soon enough~"
Didn't that piss me off? I'd sunk at least six months into conquering this game. Sure, the hardcore gamers had cleared it ages ago and sucked every last drop of content dry, but I was just your everyday game enthusiast. With mediocre skills, I'd peeked at guides for the unbreakable parts, bloating my playtime unnecessarily.
So what was I doing now? Rolling a new character, obviously. Gotta see that happy ending. The Doctor's final, laughing death scream echoed in my head even half-asleep. I wouldn't rest until I saw that smug fuck begging, despairing, wailing in agony.
Well, maybe the wailing was a bit gross. Anyway, I wanted to post my own "clear proof" screenshot on the strategy boards—flipping the bird to the Doctor. It'd be prime recycling material to toss into the cadavers' chow. Or maybe treat him to a nice cup of tea that solves your lifelong sleep issues in one sip.
First things first: character creation. What setup would work best? Last time, I'd fallen for the hype about "optimal performance" and picked a drab male character. Nickname: Carlos. Sounded cool, right? No deeper meaning.
Anyway, the "male chars are meta" line was bullshit from the veterans. Sure, stamina differed slightly, but did that flip the game's difficulty on its head? ...I'll leave it there.
You might say, "Just switch characters." But I'd already pushed through the mid-game story. Scrapping everything and restarting from scratch? Brutal. All those painstaking hours weaving through the plot...
Back to it: female character this time. Gotta have something nice to look at for the long haul. Height around 150cm should do—plenty of jiggle-judy options elsewhere. Time to stock up on some dainty girl vibes myself. For the world's sake, obviously.
Black hair, and for eyes... red fits the virus apocalypse vibe. In lore, NPCs despise red thanks to the outbreak, but whatever—it's not like I'm living there. Just tweaks a couple lines of dialogue.
Stats aren't set yet; they adapt to your playstyle. Outside of commander mode, players barely lift a finger. What a god game.
Way too much rambling. Clutching my pounding heart, I gingerly pressed the start button.