No Save Point in Luoyang
Lukdal would decide after deep thought. Game characters are close to being one's alter ego. That's why gamers want their alter egos—their characters—to be strong, perfect, and above all, overpowered cheaters who rack up superhuman feats. I was no different.
The TS Three Kingdoms, released as a beautiful girl dating sim, featured "me"—the new player character—and I'd maxed out all her stats. Leadership: 100, Martial Prowess: 100, Intellect: 100, Politics: 100, Charm: 100. I knew it was conscienceless stat-maxing. But what could I do? A total loser in real life can't be a loser in a virtual game too.
Just like countless readers get vicarious thrills from harem novels, I wanted that same satisfaction through a near-superhuman player character.
"Famous Scholar Skill goes in, and of course Elite General Skill too... Then internal affairs specialization skills, military training skills..."
Next up were skills, the crucial abilities that determined a player's prowess in internal affairs, military, schemes, and diplomacy. I'd filled those to the max too. In my quest to create the ultimate cheater character, I'd picked everything without discrimination.
"Huh, compatibility?"
After maxing the five main stats, I noticed the "Compatibility" adjustment below them. It set affinity levels—relationship values—with characters from the Three Kingdoms world. For example, setting compatibility with Cao Cao, the Martial King of Wei, to 100 meant you'd gain her favor effortlessly, even on first meeting.
"Cao Cao was the top heroine in the dating sim Three Kingdoms too—a flower on a cliff, notoriously hard to win over..."
Cao Cao, Liu Bei, Sun Quan, Yuan Shao. I'd set compatibility to 100 with all the lord-type characters. It was easy; there was a handy checkbox right next to it: "Set compatibility to 100 with all lord-type characters?"
But I'd live to regret that choice. It wasn't just the beautiful women and cute girls known as lord-types—it maxed affinity with repulsive, hairy old men like Dong Zhuo and Li Jue too.
"Register Cao Cao as my top beloved retainer for now. With her as top beloved, joining her army will be a breeze, and clearing the game will be easy. I can just tag along and mooch off her success. Cool dere Cao Cao, the bubbly beauty Cao Hong, the blunt but devoted wife-type Cao Ren once conquered, plus the Cao clan's youngest, Cao Chun—prioritize romancing the Cao sisters. And if it looks like game over, just restart anyway."
If a faction collapsed, no big deal—just reload. Why? It was a game. A strategy dating sim with free saves anywhere.
AD 187. 4th year of Zhongping.
Four years after the Yellow Turban Rebellion. I'd chosen the era when the age of heroes truly began—two years before Dong Zhuo's forces entered Luoyang, before the puppet emperor Liu Bian was dethroned by the traitor Dong Zhuo.
"Whoa, it feels real..."
Entering the game world, I beheld Luoyang's streets. Luoyang, the Han capital, the city where it all began. Even if Xuchang later stole its status as capital, up to then, Luoyang was the spark for every event.
When creating my player character, I'd set her home city to Luoyang, affiliation to the Han imperial household, and starting role as Luoyang Gate Captain—a mid-tier officer position with real importance.
"Head to cool-on-the-surface-but-warm-to-her-man Western Zhou's daughter Cao Cao? Or to Mama Yuan Shao, who loves her three daughters too much to decide? Or maybe to the two-faced high school girl Liu Bei with her sock-like personality."
Compatibility with all lord-types at max. Winning favor from any was a breeze—lowest difficulty. Loved by every heroine, with simple progression steps. Which beauty lord to conquer first? Lost in that happy delusion, I tried to save first, with my player character spawned in Luoyang Castle.
"Huh?"
No save button. No save points.
Standing in the city streets, thronged with Luoyang citizens streaming past, I glared at the game interface. But nowhere was a save option, not even a logout for exiting the VR game.
"Force quit!"
I shouted at the sky. The manual command to instantly exit if a server error or game bug hit. But for some reason, despite bellowing it, the virtual space around me didn't budge.
"What's that guy's deal?"
"Quitting what? With these chaotic times coming, is he trying to end it all?"
Passersby started whispering about me. Like I'd lost my mind. Some shook their heads and walked away; others kindly asked if I was okay.
Fuck?
A soul trapped in the game. Living out a cliché from the game-trapped novels I loved, I silently screamed in the heart of Luoyang.