Last Exit
These days, the only person who knows me is myself.
Honestly, FPS games were more my thing back in my Han Seongwon days than during my Ahyeon phase.
There was this game called Surprise Attack that doesn't exist anymore, but I was damn good at it.
Good enough to match pros, snipe noobs, and mop the floor with them.
So I figured I'd crush it in Last Exit too.
[Urgh!]
Until I got wiped three times in a row and faceplanted on the floor.
"Huh."
"Ah, this is tough."
"Hm, fair enough."
Truth be told, I underestimated it a bit.
Don't noobtubers just farm everyone easily on stream?
I had FPS confidence, so I thought I'd do the same...
It's way harder than I thought.
"Should I go for high-pen ammo?"
And most importantly, I forgot something key.
Last Exit is basically an RPG where you shoot bullets, not guns.
Unlike regular FPS, it's the ammo that matters more than the gun.
Each bullet has attack power and penetration stats, and armor has tiers.
So if I'm rocking tier 4 armor, even if they spray me with 20-pen ammo...
I take almost zero damage until my plates are gone.
And vice versa.
[Urgh!]
That's why I died even after landing headshots first.
Fuck.
Not even Iron Boy, but my bullets just bounced off his helmet.
"What am I supposed to do when aim snaps there automatically?"
Ain't headshots on sight basic?
But they all bounced off.
"Jeez."
And another Last Exit feature: health bars per body part.
That's why "shoot the legs."
Unless it's head or chest, other parts don't insta-kill even at zero HP.
But when a limb blacks out and you hit it, damage spreads to other parts.
So with trash ammo, skip the armored head/torso.
Shred the squishy legs for damage spread insta-gib.
"That's so damn gay..."
Something Taejin would pull, that lame strat.
Basically a cheese, right?
FPS is about quick headshot lines to dominate.
Not proning and leg-fucking. Jeez.
"Don't helmets have durability? And face hits one-shot anyway."
Helmets usually just cover front/back of the skull.
Eye/jaw hits one-tap even with trash ammo.
Especially low-pen bullets with high base damage.
But apparently, that angle's no joke.
...Fine, no choice.
"Sigh... didn't wanna pull this out."
Good thing: one silver lining.
Who am I?
Royal Package buyer.
Stash stocked with starter weapons.
Pulled out the slick-modded M4 and high-pen ammo from stash—chat exploded.
Honestly, wanted to save it, but no choice now.
"Fuck, how many hours have I wasted?"
Matchmaking takes 40 minutes a pop, fuck.
Open lobbies are packed, servers melting down.
Four raids took three hours.
Spent more time in Escape from Wind than Last Exit.
And most of all...
"How do I die with this?"
Assuming gear advantage, no doubt I'd win.
Who am I?
The guy who mopped noobtubers.
Honestly, my deaths so far? Winnable with better gear.
"Alright, let's go."
So I hit match start, points gamble and all.
"One more Escape from Wind?"
After ~40 minutes, I loaded into the raid.
And showed off the source of my confidence.
[Urgh!]
[Agh!]
"Whew! Hoo!"
One-tapped a duo camper jumping me.
Honestly, startled me.
They jumped out—scary as hell.
"High-pen changes everything, right?"
Grinning, I looted the dead players.
Feels too good killing.
No wonder people wait 40 minutes.
"Maybe I've got talent?"
"For real..."
Good ammo is key, as expected.
High-pen OP.
Looted their gear, feeling great.
Headed for quest items.
This raid: urban map, skyscrapers everywhere.
Grab files from offices, extract—quest done.
"Rip out the whole PC, right?"
"Okey dokey."
Hit the office smooth.
Grabbed files, stripped PCs on the side.
Main game's trash-picking—farm comps for wires/CPUs, sell 'em.
Money-hungry game, gotta grind.
"Time to find extract and bounce?"
Killed peeps, stripped guns.
Bag stuffed with trash.
Now hunting nearby extract, all good.
Thud, roll roll.
Something round and green rolled into the office.
"Ah—"
BOOM!!
[Urgh!]
"Fuck..."
Moment of panic, then deep rage.
"Gong-su-rae-gong-su-geo..."
Didn't even fight fair—naded out?
Shoulda closed the door while farming.
"...Non-possession's the true value anyway."
Our devout Christian mom says:
Rich folks entering heaven's harder than a camel through a needle's eye.
"Me? Loaded?"
...Not exactly broke.
But whatcha gonna do?
Stop earning 'cause heaven's off-limits?
Anyway, reloaded with trash ammo in a burst mag.
Yeah, the infamous Leg Meta setup.
Shred legs to bits—armored or not, they drop.
I'm a soulless psycho, so I adopt this brutal shit no hesitation.
...Ignored the tactless chat.
Just rational choices.
Quest was kills? Go heavy gear.
This is fetch quest—no need.
Obviously.
"Let's go."
Hit match, waited 40 like always.
Fuck... Sun's rising outside, salarymen starting their day.
Pulled an all-nighter.
[Entering...]
Need sleep soon, so real run this time—loaded in.
[Splut.]
Proned right at spawn alley.
"Wait quietly for salvation."
They that wait upon the Lord shall renew strength.
Not cowardly camping—religious act.
"Church nursery kid."
Dragged to church in stroller who-knows-how-many times.
Refused after I could talk, though.
"Shh, incoming."
Spawn-proned, footsteps nearby quick.
One guy—perfect.
Tap-tap.
He's cautious too.
But eyes ain't on the sky—spotting prone me in alley? Nah.
Tap-tap-tap.
Proned, gauged position with old FPS pixel-peek skills.
Tap-tap—thud!
Right in front—
RATATATA!!
Popped out, shredded his legs.
Flames past muzzle: solid helmet, Ttun-ttun gear.
[Urgh!]
No armored pants in this game, sadly for him.
Legs gone—crumpled.
Chat right—Ttun-ttun loadout, so I proned and nosedived.
Tier 4 pot lid, tier 5 armor—durability solid since leg-only.
Corpse-bag king bag (fits whole body), full-mod fresh gun.
"Uh, uhuh..."
Sweetness choking me.
Rice-eater in, Ttun-ttun out.
This is why Leg Meta hype.
Guy's Royal too, from loot.
But fellow Royal me takes it—less salt.
"Extract extract..."
Anyway, fat loot early—hunt extract now.
Lose this? No sleep.
Running endless to extract.
My fat farm hurting chat—they deployed the camels.
"What's that noise?"
Oh no, rich no heaven?
Feigned ignorance.
Tsk tsk, so naive.
How many rich Christians?
Camel too big for needle hole?
Just pray for bigger needle than camel, Lord.
"Amen."
Stuffed bag, extracted.
Camping OP.