Beautiful People Leave Beautiful Traces

Getting into a new online game isn't easy. Humans instinctively avoid change and prefer the familiar. Why, there's even that saying: better the devil you know than the one you don't. Would you rather eat kimchi jjigae packed with meat and love from a lady with 30 years of cooking experience, or some pricey European dish you've never tried? It's obvious, obvious. Kimchi jjigae wins every time.

Games are the same. Even if the devs flip the bird and declare no more updates. Even if they patch balance like rabid dogs for years. Even if those rare updates feel like drought-ending rain—or just fried chicken and beer—quitting your old game for a new one takes real guts. To jump ship, all your existing knowledge turns to toilet paper. You have to learn the new game's systems from scratch, top to bottom, and that's no small feat.

That said, it's easier for newbies during anniversary or half-anniversary events. Those are often targeted at fresh blood, not vets. But here's the kicker. Lord of the Warrior, just six months into open beta, skipped its half-anniversary event. Cocky business model? Or something else? Who knows. One thing's clear: even six months in, new players keep pouring into Lord of the Warrior.

Reasons abound, but the biggest? It's fun. Plain and simple. Lord of the Warrior hooks everyone, no love-it-or-hate-it divide. Overwhelming vistas, flawless polish, ultimate freedom. Forget the war genre—it's a must-play before you die.

Sure, if it's that good, why not start day one? Why wait six months? Blame the sky-high entry barrier. You need a "capsule"—around ten million won. Even loaded folks hesitate at that price. And early-20s kids obsessed with gaming? No way they have that cash.

So those kids pulled a move: grind part-time jobs for six months. Dump every won into a capsule. Stupid? Nah, just chasing happiness. Worth it? Hell yes—Lord of the Warrior justifies the investment. Plus, if you're savvy (or shady), you can recoup that capsule cost in another six months in-game.

Enter our newbie reeking of desperation: "NoLogOutTillIRiceMyWages." One of many who slaved six months at odd jobs, sank it all into a capsule, vowing, "I won't quit before I rice my wages."

But after logging in? Mind blown. Rice his wages? Why quit when it's this good? He poured everything into his character. For a total noob, every system was a thrill. Hell, just wandering the village was a blast.

Most memorable? The wars. Catharsis beyond words. Vets who've tasted it would never utter "rice my wages" again—they're all in. He joined their ranks in a week.

...Suddenly ashamed of his nick. Time for a change.

Anyway, today he heads to Dry Castle for the daily quest, cheerful as ever. Forums hyped "Beautiful People Leave Beautiful Traces" as notorious. Pfft. Really? Wandering villages is fun—can't relate.

Look, this trash bin even dropped a half-eaten donut. Not pricey, but sell it at the sundries shop for coin. Pennies make mountains—that's the joy of grinding stronger.

Hard to believe this was the rice-eater wannabe from before. After 30 minutes looping the village, he bags eight trash bags.

"Faster than expected?" Forums lied. They said over an hour, or it'd make you puke in your capsule from the stench. Overblown. Smell wasn't that bad.

Just two bags left, achievement high firing him up. He hunts bins eagerly. Finds one quick.

But something's off. "...B-blood?" It looked like a red bin at first glance—smeared thick with blood. Not just splattered; grotesque enough to turn stomachs. What the hell?

"New gimmick? Trap? Hidden...?" Forums would confirm, but trust was zero after the quest proved fine. Maybe Lord of the Warrior gallery trolls seeding fake info to hog hidden bins?

Made perfect sense to his grudge-holding newbie brain. "Screw it, what's the worst? Adventure's adventure." Brain turned flower field.

He approaches the creepy bin. "Urgh, fuck..." Up close, nightmare fuel. Blood so dark it was nearly black, sticky viscosity churning guts.

But newbie bravado—or thrill of the new—wins. He flips the lid.

Fear of the unknown isn't for cowards—it's wise judgment. After the blood fountain dousing and his "new experience," he finally...

"Urp... urp... uurrrgh!"

Season 3721, Exhibit A: capsule puke victim. The rice-eater's (alleged) end.

Glanced at chat before logout. Bonus.

Rice-eater justice served. Wasn't targeting him specifically—just rigged ~20 bins around Dry Castle hoping for anyone. Lucky (unlucky?) first catch: a rice-eater.

Chat reactions say it all: looks like accidental justice, not griefing. Kinda unsatisfying. I'm no judge doling out punishment. I don't get off on righteousness.

On the contrary. I thrill in evil deeds.

Guy might actually be decent. Oof, that donation stings a bit.

Screw it.

I ignore ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠chat, get back to work. Ideally, not a rice-eater. An innocent victim—that's the real rush.