Doomsday Wonderland Vol. 12: New Game Launch [Complete]

1525: Game Template

This room is probably the smallest in the entire underground space, akin to a square concrete shoebox, without any alterations or decorations. The only things in it are dozens of screens, big and small, hanging at various heights from the ceiling, forming a circle. They surround the woman sitting in the center, casting her in a misty silver-white glow.

Originally, she was a grey, shrunken, silent person. But when she's bathed in the glow of the screens, it seems as if something within her is illuminated – or perhaps, it's like her soul, normally lost, has been lit up with the screens.

Through a round hall and many corridors, the cacophony of screams, howls, and cries has become as distant as faint echoes in a stormy night's dream, hardly discernible. With the occasional turbulence in the distance for contrast, the silence in this room seems even more deathly.

Lin Sanjiu quietly pushed the door open, and the hinges creaked. Yu Yuan followed her silently into the room.

The woman seated among the screens, hearing the sound, was startled. She turned her head sharply, meeting Lin Sanjiu's gaze. As if her soul faced the risk of being lost again, her face turned ashen. Their eyes locked, and for a few seconds, neither spoke.

Approaching from behind a few screens, Lin Sanjiu found that the woman had turned her head but kept her hands on the keyboard, as if she were dealing with an inopportune customer and would return to her work as soon as Lin left.

The screens were filled with ongoing game scenarios; players bewildered and terrified, set in different backgrounds like forests and towns. With the sound turned off, the men and women screamed and ran silently, falling and losing their lives in complete silence.

"What... what are you doing?" Lin Sanjiu asked softly. She couldn't tell if the woman wore any protective text. All she felt was a chill in her belly, her steps weakening.

"Writing games," the woman answered in an even softer voice, with a thick accent.

She looked to be in her forties, and despite having become a posthuman, the hardship and weariness of her past were evident. Her face was dull, her eyes lifeless like dead fish, and her tangled, coarse hair was streaked with gray.

"W-why?" Lin Sanjiu said, finally managing to voice the question that first came to mind.

The woman seemed too numb to exhibit any strong emotion that might have moved her wooden expression. "It's my job," she said flatly.

Lin Sanjiu stared at her, speechless for a moment. The woman seemed fearful but not overtly so, as if she wanted to return to her "work" yet was indifferent. Why would such an empty shell of a person be so fixated on writing games?

"It's my job," the woman repeated.

"Don't you understand the situation?" Lin Sanjiu couldn't help but consider the possibility that the woman was not very bright. "Don't you know that the posthumans trapped in your games on the screen are real people? Real lives at stake. Don't you know?"

The woman looked at her woodenly and answered "Ah," as if acknowledging the fact. Her response was as if Lin Sanjiu had asked, "Red beans are red, don't you know?"

People who enjoy writing games are not unheard of; Zhou Xian was one. But at least when their own lives are in danger, others act normally, knowing they must prioritize self-preservation. No one else would seize the opportunity at such a time to sneak back and continue working on a game.

"But you..." Lin Sanjiu was completely at a loss for words. It seemed as if she could communicate with the other party, but in reality, they couldn't understand each other; she felt that she might be able to understand a parrot better than this woman.