Chapter 120: Artificial Souls - Part 47 |
Registration for the second batch of closed beta players would be completed within twenty-four hours.
However, there was no shortage of people eagerly awaiting the list’s announcement. Half an hour after its release, numerous new players had already registered and entered the forum.
Due to the substantial base number of one hundred thousand participants, the second section remained quite active. After just half an hour, several thousand additional players joined.
Kui Xin watched helplessly as the bloody count of surviving individuals at the top of the forum continuously fluctuated, jumping from nearly nine thousand to 11,280. With each refresh, the survivor count increased by several digits.
Staring at the steadily rising survival numbers, Kui Xin thought expressionlessly, “After this week, how many more will have died?”
There were less than twenty-four hours remaining before the next transition to the Second World. Would those new players be able to gather sufficient information from the forum and learn enough knowledge in time?
What they needed to learn was truly extensive, ranging from the most basic tasks, like shopping at the mall, to riding electric hover-railcars and even navigating public spaces. They would also have to master how to use elevators and household appliances. A single mistake could lead to their capture.
Already, some veteran players from the first sector had rushed to the second sector to educate newcomers about crucial precautions. Additionally, more individuals were transferring informative posts from the first sector to the second.
However, the newly arrived second batch players didn’t fully grasp the situation, thinking it was just veteran players joking with them.
“I urge everyone to carefully read, without skipping a word, the threads transferred by veteran players to the second sector. Ideally, memorize them completely—even if you need to stay up all night to do so. Have you seen the survival count at the top of the forum? Before the second batch of closed beta players joined, our initial group of ten thousand had already lost over a thousand people.”
1L: “? Bro, your serious tone is making me scared.”
2L: “Ha ha, the forum atmosphere is great! Everyone seems deeply invested in the game.”
3L: Here we go again, scaring the newbies, right?
Initially, the Original Poster (OP) tried to explain further, but it only seemed to make things worse. Some newbie players even began making light-hearted jokes, creating a jovial atmosphere throughout the forum… After several dozen posts, the exhausted OP stopped attempting to persuade them and left with one final remark: “I’ve done my utmost; don’t blame me when the time comes.”
Players from the first sector noticed this and consoled the OP, saying, “Stay calm, friend. We’ve done our part and fulfilled our responsibility; it’s not our fault.”
In the forum, the nicknames of players from both sectors had distinct colors—veteran players’ names were red, while newcomers’ names were green, clearly indicating their status at a glance.
However, not all newbies were stubbornly dismissive. A portion sensed something amiss, as they too started receiving identity cards just like the initial Closed Beta testers, albeit mysteriously so.
“Help! My dad found a silver metallic card on the doormat after his night shift, with my name written on it. He asked what it was about, but how would I know? How did this thing end up at our house??”
“I discovered this card near my dog’s kennel in the yard. Despite my dog gnawing on it for ages, there’s not a single scratch. What material is this made of?”
Then another veteran player posted: “Having reached this point, I advise everyone to stay calm and accept reality. What we veteran players say comes from our genuine experiences. Every evening, the city’s reflection appears in the sky; those reflections are actually shadows of Second World structures. Even scientists cannot fully explain how these phantoms emerge or why they persist for so long. There are countless phenomena in the world that defy scientific explanation, and right now, you’re experiencing one such unexplainable event.”
Someone cited He Kangshi as an example: “The well-known gaming streamer, Old Kang, serves as a clear illustration. He bravely spoke the truth, but not all of us had the courage to follow suit. Seeing his actions, it felt futile because those destined to enter the game still did, making persuasion virtually ineffective…”
There was also a disparity in information among players.
While He Kangshi enjoyed high recognition within the gaming community, not every gamer watched his videos. Not everyone preferred using social media platforms to stay updated on news either. It was entirely possible that some individuals remained completely unaware even now, unwittingly applying for the closed beta and inadvertently entering the game.
A newly registered player questioned, “If there’s something wrong with this game, why haven’t the authorities banned it?”
Then a veteran player responded, “This is a game where simply applying can grant you opportunities to traverse between worlds. Can such a game truly be shut down?”
“Then why haven’t various countries’ relevant departments issued bans or warnings for people not to play?”
“Why spread information that could incite panic? Only tens of thousands have entered the game, while globally, there are over seven billion people. Moreover, announcing it would essentially provide free publicity for ‘Crimson Earth,’ potentially increasing its reach and attracting even more individuals to enter. As a result, the number of victims would only grow. Instead of wasting breath here, it’s better to read the informative posts shared by experts. After all, reading these threads won’t harm you, right?”
One new player complained, “When I was going through my edgy phase, I specifically bought those three legendary books on transmigration and stayed up all night studying them, constantly preparing for my own transmigration. Now entering this game forum feels like revisiting my rebellious days. The seasoned transmigrators are advising newcomers to get ready for their journey—it’s just ridiculous!”
As Kui Xin scrolled through these posts, she couldn’t help but sigh.
There were also numerous foreign players on the forum. Kui Xin specifically counted the post numbers; threads in Chinese accounted for approximately twenty percent. In some countries, it was daytime, leading to higher registration rates, and discussions in non-Chinese posts were equally active.
Kui Xin focused on browsing through the English threads and noticed that the topics and questions discussed by these international players were largely similar to those in the neighboring Chinese threads.
She refreshed the page to view new posts when suddenly she spotted someone sharing their card.
“Hey everyone, what does this ‘Depriver’ card signify?”
Kui Xin paused, incredulous.
*Damn, seriously?*
She clicked into the thread and noticed that a player had photographed their own card. The name was blurred out, but the serial number wasn’t—on the silver card, the displayed number read “12345.”
Almost all the replies below the post were from veteran players.
1st Floor: WTF? You’re truly blessed by fate.
2nd Floor: Congratulations, OP. May luck be with you.
3rd Floor: It’s hard to say if your luck is good or bad… Honestly speaking, drawing this card essentially makes you a potential murderer.
4th Floor: Considering you’re still a clueless newbie, OP, here’s some advice: Don’t tell anyone you’re a Depriver. Keep your identity tightly concealed, no matter what!
5L: The Depriver titles follow such a pattern… one with 233, another with 777, and now we have one with 12345…
6L: Holy shit, congratulations to OP for becoming the first depriver on the entire forum to reveal their nickname.
18L (Original Poster): You guys are making me quite scared now. Did I draw an SSR card? Why can’t I tell others about it? Will boasting my luck lead to being assassinated by non-lucky players through the screen?
20L replying to 18L (Original Poster): Essentially, you’ve drawn the role of the spy in “Who’s the Spy?” or the werewolf in “Werewolf.” Now, you’re potentially at odds with everyone. Good luck! I hope you can uphold your moral compass amidst this chaos.
The new players were unfamiliar with the game rules, while veteran players brought over various official rule posts, accompanied by their interpretations.
Currently, the forum is a chaotic frenzy, filled with arguments, discussions, knowledge-sharing, and reposts—all mixed together indiscriminately. However, not all 100 thousand players have completed their registrations yet. Continuously, bewildered newcomers entered, overwhelmed by the barrage of diverse threads.
Returning to the first section, someone had even started a betting thread: “How many players from this batch will die? I bet around ten percent.”
1L: It feels like that’s underestimating it.
2L: My perspective is still relatively optimistic. With exposure to informative posts, the chances of being exposed greatly decrease. This group of players has a much better starting point than we did; we were essentially paving the way for them. In comparison, when we entered, we knew practically nothing…
Kui Xin refreshed the forum once more and noticed the number of surviving individuals had risen to 15,088.
As she observed the new players who had already revealed their Depriver identities in the second section, a fleeting thought crossed her mind, but she quickly suppressed it.
“It’s not yet the right time. At least we need to wait until this Depriver successfully survives a week in the Second World,” Kui Xin said to herself.
The forum had a private messaging feature.
If Depriver 12345 managed to survive a week in the Second World, Kui Xin would attempt to contact them. Not with the intention of recruiting them, but rather to confirm their identity in the real world, enabling her to closely observe this individual.
To be honest, the role of a Depriver easily leads one down a treacherous path.
Kui Xin believed she was on a path towards survival, a path chosen by her own volition, but she would never claim her path as inherently righteous. Therefore, Deprivers warranted close scrutiny.
Currently, apart from Kui Xin, the exposed Deprivers include players numbered 777 and 12345. Player 777 is abroad, beyond Kui Xin’s immediate reach, but Beta Player 12345 serves as a readily available subject for observation.
Player 12345’s behavior pattern resembled that of a complete novice, blatantly revealing their card without discretion. Kui Xin seriously doubted if they would survive even the first week.
Kui Xin organized her thoughts, staring at the phone screen for a long time before ultimately creating a new thread in the first forum section.
“Recruitment Post: Personal Section [Black Snake]”
The title was simple with just a few lines, but the first post detailed the specific conditions for entry.
First Floor:
- Open to all Depriver Proxies; no restrictions.
- Must disclose real-world identity from the First World and operational scope within the Second World upon joining.
- Pending additions.
These straightforward requirements clearly signaled Kui Xin’s ambitions.
She was brazenly casting a fishing line, setting out bait to catch interested parties. The renowned username “233” on the forum served as a living advertisement, while the personal section “Black Snake” further captivated the attention of all players. Kui Xin announced to everyone that this personal section is for Player 233.
Who would risk such immense danger to contact her? Who, knowing the risks, would still be undeterred?
Less than a minute after posting, the number of replies exploded.
1L: Translation—what the Big Shot means is, “Feel free to enter if you dare; otherwise, get lost.”