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

1527: Farm Life

"I don't know why, but the games they write just keep getting more and more brutal," Short Bangs said. As he was about to close the door, Lin Sanjiu raised her hand, and he quickly realized what she meant, reopening the door to show he had no ulterior motive. "I've been here for a long time, only Master Zhang and this woman," he pointed to the silent, shrinking woman in the corner, "have been here longer than me. The others from that time are gone."

"How long have you been here?"

"Five or six months, I guess. Without seeing the sunrise or sunset, it's easy to lose track of time," Short Bangs said, shaking his head. "The habit of communicating with each other was already here when I came. During this time, I've seen so many newcomers, those who couldn't hang on, were sent away, died in disputes... I've seen too much. I found that the longer I'm here, the more brutal the game content I come across."

He made a gesture, inviting Lin Sanjiu inside. His room had been remodeled to look like a forest cabin, with an entire glass wall in the living room. As Lin Sanjiu approached, she realized the cabin was designed to sit on a cliff, and looking out through the glass, her eyes fell on the forest beneath the cliff. A vague, pale mist hung over the dark green forest.

As she walked into the living room, the woman was quietly walking outside; Yu Yuan poked his head in from the door, and she immediately stopped.

"I'll wait for you at the door," Yu Yuan said expressionlessly. Lin Sanjiu nodded without looking at the woman again, who dared not run out or come in, and crouched near the door with a wooden face.

"This is my scenic window, and also the entrance to my game creation," Short Bangs explained. "From here, you can see an overview of the games I've written, the number of survivors, deaths, and other information."

In front of the glass wall sat a long couch. Beside it was a side table with a half-drunk beverage, its ring of moisture congealed at the bottom of the cup. Lin Sanjiu looked at the ring, imagining Short Bangs sitting there, sipping his drink, watching the games.

She walked over and sat down in the middle of the couch. The blood on her hands and body left dark red stains on the cushion, along with some sticky, unidentifiable bits clinging to the sofa.

Short Bangs' mouth twitched, but he said nothing.

"You'll see I'm not lying when you look at my games," he said, sitting down on the other end of the couch. "I really am different from the others. I've never even looked for game volunteers."

"Volunteers?"

Lin Sanjiu had almost forgotten the volunteers outside, leading posthumans into one death trap after another. They said they participated in game creation but weren't at the new game launches.

"Do you know about game volunteers? Ahem, no one is specifically trained in game writing, right?" Short Bangs said. "Designing a new game every week, over time, anyone might run out of inspiration. Sometimes, when game makers can't come up with good ideas, they'll seek outsiders' suggestions... Offering them small benefits, many people scramble to design games or run errands. The more idea contributors, the fresher the game, the more miserable the players."

The so-called small benefits probably meant exemption from a round of the game.

"In theory, I also need to design a new game every week, but I don't want to wrack my brains like them, thinking of ways to kill more people." Short Bangs shook his head and sighed, smiling. "So, I found a way around it. Besides using volunteers for some guiding, I've never sought volunteers. The new game I design every week is just a slight modification of an old game. When released, I connect it to the old game's environment. This way, theoretically, I release a new game every week, but in reality, it's just an ever-expanding old game, and a completely safe one at that."