Chapter 960: Game World, Emerald Forest
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 960: Game World, Emerald Forest
"So this is the game interface a regular player sees?"
After connecting to the game link through a perspective other than that of an ordinary player, I finally beheld a different sort of vision.
As my consciousness immersed itself, the sensation was akin to an illusion—one I could subjectively withdraw from at any moment. However, I couldn't find a way to interface with Luck, not even with my shallow understanding of Luck Alchemy.
This was a fictional pixel world; it did not exist in reality.
If I had to define it... Virtual Pixels?
Perhaps this was another use for Transcendent Pixels, likely their interpretation of the corresponding concept—much like how I could conceptualize the growth of plants into the Tree of Great Knowledge.
Players in this world could use the Terminal of Myriad Worlds to shape "Transcendent Pixels," "Material Pixels," and "Virtual Pixels." I wasn't sure if other concepts existed. However, it was highly unlikely there were many more; after all, creation wasn't born from mere thought. It required the coordination of practice, supplemented by the refinement of theory, concepts, and experience.
At this moment, I stood within a "void" of virtual space, with endless pixels paving the ground. Before me was the personal account registration.
Registering a main account was simple. The nature of this account was similar to... an ID card.
Then again, this world had no concept of ID cards. They didn't even deign to track the global population; the number of "black households" huddled in the Chaos Areas and the Ground Fissure Settlement Zones was beyond counting. They only cared about those in the surface cities, established high-end players, player members, and the like. They only cared about these people, and controlling them was enough.
Binding an account to an individual was easy for me to forge. It only required a fingerprint!
Of course, that was only easy from my perspective. In this world, forging a fingerprint was incredibly difficult. Not only was obtaining one hard, but manufacturing a replica was even harder. If someone had the ability to obtain and forge one, would they even need to steal an account? Not at all.
And so, I completed the account registration with ease.
Next was character creation.
Players using game pods had a body-scanning function and additional free micro-adjustment options. Those using headsets were basically locked into their correct gender with randomized features. While these could be changed, it cost game currency—something you couldn't do right at the start unless you were rich enough to exchange real money or top up your account.
Spend money, and you'll get stronger!
But for the bottom-layer people for whom game currency was their livelihood, getting stronger meant doing tasks, hunting bounties, or "moving bricks"—manual labor.
After sculpting my character, I arrived in my personal space.
This personal space wasn't infinitely large like the login area. It was a cramped room. If you pushed against the boundaries, a prompt appeared, informing you that you could spend money to unlock and expand the space. Floor area, height, and local spatial expansion were all billed separately.
I turned my attention back to what was in front of me. There were simply too many pop-up windows.
First, I pulled up my personal information, which displayed a 3D model of my character. Silver-white hair and crimson eyes—my signature look.
I had to admit, while life in reality was bitter, the game was quite decent. At the very least, the degree of freedom was extremely high. You could change your character's appearance freely—hair color, eye color, adding tattoos, adjusting bust size, and so on. Perhaps the authorities felt that no matter how much players indulged themselves in the game, it wouldn't matter.
After scanning my data, I began checking the pop-ups one by one.
The content was, frankly, explosive. Some were official announcements, mostly related to the game. There were official events, news about new games, reboots of old ones, and promotional spotlights on players who had achieved great feats. These were considered marks of glory.
After closing these fluff pieces, I finally saw the New Student Guidance.
I was at a loss for words—the priority for event pop-ups was actually higher than the tutorial.
After a very brief guidance session, I had a general understanding of how to play.
First, this game had no levels. There were only member levels, which were determined by how much you spent. Replacing combat levels was "Combat Power"—a combat strength rating.
Combat power was stacked using weapon ratings. Some weapons had overlapping ratings, meaning the added combat power wasn't as high as the weapon's individual standard rating. Furthermore, combat power ratings had "application brackets."
This "Combat Power Coverage" meant that if a gun had a rating of 10, equipping two identical guns wouldn't give you 20. It might be 15, or even 12 or 13. The score was based partly on the upper limit of output power; damage ratings would overlap and cover each other, while fire rate and coverage area would stack normally.
However, the specific weights used to calculate these data points weren't shown.
The combat power brackets defined scales of destructive force. For example, a bracket with a ceiling of 10,000 might be "City-Level." If you lacked the ability to destroy a city single-handedly, simple combat power stacking would be hit by an infinite "coverage" penalty. Thus, players couldn't rely on stacking low-end equipment to raise their combat power ceiling.
The ceiling of a single weapon truly dictated the combat power rating!
This reminded me of the combat platforms deployed by players. Those automated heavy-fire suppression weapons were the simplest form of combat power stacking. The reason those platforms didn't expand indefinitely was likely because the rating overlap between identical weapon types was too severe.
Setting aside weapons and combat power, there was the issue of game accounts.
A person only had one main account, but that didn't mean they could just start playing. Different games required different character accounts. Some of these characters had to be bought with money, and some couldn't be bought even if you had the cash.
Furthermore, the types of games varied. Based on the information I gathered, not every game within the Terminal of Myriad Worlds was a real world. Many were purely virtual. I could generally distinguish them: any game without a deep background or world-building was usually virtual, as were those where you could simply buy a ticket to enter.
What left me speechless was that, as a newbie, I seemingly had no channel to directly access "Real World" games. The only way to touch a real world was through "drudge" games.
Of course, it wasn't literally moving bricks, but rather "Overwhelmingly Negative" rated games consisting of tedious, heavy quest chains. The reason so many people played them was primarily because the income was stable. Other games only gave a chance to receive tasks, and triggering them was a hassle; the income was unstable, and there was a risk of losing your entry fee. In some games, character death resulted in a massive deduction of game currency as compensation!
It was another layer of uncontrollable risk. Only those with high skill and high combat power could enjoy the games; everyone else was just a workhorse.
Although I couldn't enter many of the games, I could browse their general information. I searched for a long time but couldn't find the game called Sin Star. However, in the archives, I found a "Server Shutdown" notice, followed by countless comments of confusion and vitriol.
But no matter how toxic those comments were, I doubted a single one ever reached the desks of the high-and-mighty Game Architects.
"It seems a world that is completely lost results in a server shutdown, and it can no longer be searched."
Next, I searched the library for Calamity Witch, but unfortunately, I found nothing there either. This was information I had obtained through reverse-engineering. Given that they had sent a vanguard and then reinforced it, it was likely in a closed beta phase, so it wouldn't be searchable yet.
The players had hit a steel wall in the Main World, so they naturally had to halt their expansion. I had originally hoped to reach the Main World through another method.
A pity...
Regardless, I intended to experience this so-called "game" first.
A newly registered account didn't come with any cliché "Newbie Gift Pack," but because I was using a game pod, I was given a few "Rich Man's Gift Packs."
I scrolled through some strategy posts. There were a few suggestions for beginners, but such guides were rare. After all, in this world, who hadn't been immersed in this since childhood? Only an outsider like me would stumble at the starting line.
The comments under the introductory post were mostly mocking, asking who such a basic guide was even for.
"Hmph. At least this post isn't entirely worthless."
I closed the post. I didn't plan to follow its advice. Otherwise, I really would become a workhorse moving bricks in a game world. Perhaps the poster genuinely wanted to teach people how to earn money, but for me, it was too pathetic.
Rich people naturally had a rich person's way of playing.
The "Rich Man's Gift Pack" that came with the game pod provided a significant amount of startup capital and even a random character account. However, it wasn't permanent; it was a "one-life" character. If it died, it was gone. Furthermore, this character was randomized within the game; the appearance of my main account character wouldn't carry over.
It seemed troublesome, but from another perspective, wasn't this exactly how they invaded our Main World? By replacing an existing character in that world.
The moment I logged in, a living being would truly die.
But... I felt no mercy in this regard.
One person dies to bring hope to that world... Is it not worth it?
After all, what I was sending over wasn't just a character, but a Summoning Rune that could bring my main body or my clones there!
Aren't the high-ranking officials of the game world still sitting comfortably in their parliament? I would make them feel what it was like to sit on a bed of needles.
The thought of "Xiao Han" popping up in every world they dominated and harvested almost made me want to laugh. But what choice did I have? They were the ones who provoked me.
The grudge between me and the players had been forged back in that small world of plant technology. Though I could no longer resonate with my past emotions, I had no need to discuss right and wrong with them. In matters of stance and personal vendetta, only the total silence of one side would bring an end to it.
"Emerald Forest... looks like a decent game," I murmured, looking at the only game I had randomly rolled a qualification for.
According to the description, this was a continent covered in forest, inhabited by elven tribes. Dozens of elven types had been discovered, including Forest Elves and Nature Elves, along with countless elven settlements.
"Good grief. Hasn't the Afuhemi Academy from the Main World already meddled in the game world? And they just let the game world dominate a small world of elves like this... or are those guys simply unaware?"
But considering how close this world was to the Wizards, the Wizards likely suppressed the news. After all... don't Wizards keep grass and wood spirits as pets? There is nothing a Wizard wouldn't dare to do.
However, the comments under the game left me even more appalled.
The game seemed to have been "played out." The elves had become part of a... capture industry. Slaves... and even many... sex-related services.
Elves were beautiful and fit human aesthetics perfectly. It wasn't hard to foresee them falling to such a fate after an invasion. But seeing it displayed so brazenly still shocked my sensibilities.
It only deepened my loathing for this world.
While such things were never truly eradicated in any world—not even the Main World—still... Sigh.
There was no need to say more. You cannot reason with differing values. Only death is a language they understand. After all, no matter who they are, the final reaction of anyone knowing they are about to die is roughly the same.
With that thought, I clicked the icon for Emerald Forest.
This was currently my only character account.
As my mind sank into it, I felt a wave of dizziness. Of course, it was only visual; my clone's main body could still perceive everything around it. This feeling was somewhat like... a clone of a clone?
As the vision before me cleared, the previously dark and cramped personal space transformed into a vast wilderness.
Massive, thick trees filled my vision. The tops of the dense canopies looked even more vibrant under the sunlight. Light took on physical form amidst the woods, and as a breeze blew, the light seemed to dance.
I looked down at my hands, which I had instinctively reached out. They couldn't be called delicate, but my proud figure assured me that this was exactly the body a female elf should have.
"Matched with a female character again... A living life, just like that... dead?" I felt the condition of the body. There wasn't a shred of conscious resistance. Perhaps there had been, but I couldn't feel it.
I had to remember that I was currently just a game character clone. I couldn't even use mental power to draw runes or construct spells, let alone see Luck.
Whoosh!
While I was dazed, an arrow whistled through the air. Even for me, it was a narrow miss as I jerked back.
Had I not dodged, that arrow would have pierced my throat!