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When engaging in real-time role-playing, players inevitably encountered hundreds, if not thousands, of minor situations. It was impossible to define rules for each one, but there were fundamental principles that all players were aware of.
Firstly, actions and speech must align with the character’s knowledge and understanding.
Of course, a child can be mature or thoughtful, and a cranky old lady might have a warm heart. But common sense dictates that five-year-old Silvan shouldn’t discuss the side effects of dimethyl sulfoxide with the pharmacist, Jet. Similarly, the black-haired girl, Leah, shouldn’t show disgust at her beautiful roommate, Jessica, even if Jessica’s dwarf appearance seemed frightening.
The character manual also provided guiding behavioral principles, so everyone needed to keep it handy. As long as you carried the manual, you could act according to the character’s general behavior pattern, which was safer than improvising. Plus, the manual included detailed descriptions of one’s character and basic outlines of other characters for reference.
Second, players could not leave the apartment building. The game area was confined to this building. Lin Sanjiu wasn’t sure how others with jobs handled it, but her job was straightforward: hang a sign on the door, draw the blackout curtains, light a candle, and wear a tablecloth. Whether she looked like a psychic or not, she certainly looked like a mad woman.
Third, although physical strength, abilities, and tools weren’t suppressed, they must be used cautiously and selectively, adhering to what would be common sense for the character to have.
Ms. Chen on the first floor could undoubtedly run fast and climb walls, but as a regular old lady, she had to move step by step. When going upstairs to warn Pink not to jump around in the house, she had to stop and catch her breath after a few steps. Even though five-year-old Pink was two heads taller than his grandma, he couldn’t help carry things for her. He needed to ask Mr. Grant, the high school teacher next door, for help.
The most exasperating part was that Jessica had to wear brightly colored hot pants, showing off the character’s proud legs. The most mind-boggling aspect of this game was that, even though you saw and interacted with one thing, you had to pretend it was something else according to the character’s perspective.
Once they got used to it, they might smoothly enter their roles and see the game world through their characters’ eyes.
The last principle was simple: characters couldn’t communicate their objectives to each other. If someone guessed another player’s objective, it was not within the restricted scope.
What happened if these principles were broken?
The character manual didn’t’ offer an answer. The less you knew know, the more hesitant you would be to try. Fortunately, the volunteer didn’t lie. On the last page of the manual, there was a statement: “Players who die in this game won’t truly die in a physiological sense, and the physical injuries they sustain won’t persist. Once the game is over, players will return to their original state. The game lasts for thirty days. Players who achieve their personal objectives will successfully clear the game, while those who don’t will face a penalty: they will have to participate in the next round of the game.”
In other words, if you didn’t meet your objectives, you’d have to play repeatedly. Compared to many other games, this was indeed more lenient.
As Lin Sanjiu sat by the window browsing the manual, she spotted Ji Shanqing’s head below. She pondered how to convince everyone of her psychic abilities. With no good strategies coming to mind, her thoughts began to wander. What might the catmint’s objective be? More sunbathing? And what objectives could a five-year-old have? Eating popsicles?
A sharp cry from the NPC baby on the first floor pierced the air, amplified to be heard throughout the building. The door to apartment No. 3 flew open, revealing Ms. Chen’s irritated face. “Shut it up with a pacifier; it’s deafening!” she yelled before slamming the door shut.
Ms. Chen truly embodied her role effortlessly.
Lin Sanjiu closed the curtains and glanced around her room.
Her home resembled a spider’s lair, dim and cold, with colorful embroidered curtains draped everywhere, shrouded in layers of mist. The fireplace was adorned with odd symbols, decorations, deities, cards, and incense. A large doll in a dress stood in a glass case, its round black eyes seemingly following her movements. No matter where she went, the doll’s eyes seemed to stare right at her.
What if she claimed to have sealed a ghost inside the doll? It certainly looked eerie enough. She could invite some neighbors over for tea and share the doll’s story, but what would the story be?
Lin Sanjiu waited for a burst of creative inspiration. However, after a while, she was only met with the rumbling of her stomach. This was probably an effect of the game. Elizabeth Lin’s financial situation was dire, so she ate only once a day to save money. It suited the image of a psychic to be thin. Of course, when she had the chance to get a free meal, she would feast without reservations.
‘Too hungry to think. Forget it; better to go see the catmint.’
Why did it have to be catmint? It would have been great if Ji Shanqing were a fruit tree. She could pick a few apples to eat.
Lin Sanjiu mused as she opened the door. To her left, outside apartment No. 6, Silvan sat with a listless expression, legs crossed. His bright green eyes seemed filled with doubts about life itself. As she took a few steps, she noticed several toy soldiers before him.
“Playing a war game, Pink?” she asked with a smile, bending over and patting his head. “Do you know what sound a gun makes when it fires?”
The former captain of the Munitions Factory’s security department looked up at her, his face devoid of emotion.
“It goes ‘pew, pew,'” she said. “Like that. Why don’t you give it a try?”
“Just go away, you hag.”
Lin Sanjiu straightened up, finding the game quite intriguing. As she was about to head toward the staircase, something caught her eye. Turning, she noticed the curtains of apartment No. 6 swaying slightly. Someone had been peeking at her and retreated behind the curtain.
“Grandma’s always like this,” Pink said. “She gets very confused and often forgets where I am.”
Right, his grandma did show signs of early dementia. It couldn’t be too severe, though, could it? Otherwise, how could she take care of her grandson?
As Lin Sanjiu descended the staircase, she bumped into Ms. Chen, who was making her way up. The older woman carried a large glass bowl filled with baked rolls, the enticing aroma of cheese wafting through the air. Lin Sanjiu stopped, blocking the narrow staircase. “Ms. Chen, where are you headed?”
The old lady gave her a brief glance, unsmiling. “Apartment No. 6.”
“To see Pink or his grandma?”
“His grandma.”
“Oh, how wonderful for the two of you to have each other’s company,” Lin Sanjiu said, recalling idle chatter among neighborhood aunties from years past. “Smells so good. Did you make it yourself?”
Ms. Chen’s impatience showed as she tapped her foot and glanced behind Lin Sanjiu, hinting at her to move away.
“Such excellent cooking skills! I didn’t have breakfast today, and just the smell makes me hungry,” Lin Sanjiu said.
Normally, such comments would prompt the other person to politely offer, but Ms. Chen remained unaffected. Lin Sanjiu, feeling awkward, wondered how Elizabeth could be so shameless. She finally asked, “May I have a piece?”
Pink scoffed behind her.
Ms. Chen rolled her eyes. “I knew it. The moment I saw you, I knew there was no escape. I think I’m the real clairvoyant here. Look at you, a grown woman scrounging for food all around the building. You should be renamed Elizabeth the Eater.”
Elizabeth’s reputation seemed to be well-documented in the other characters’ role manuals as well.
“Go get a plate,” Ms. Chen said, eager to send her away. “I have things to discuss with Pink’s grandma.”
Lin Sanjiu recalled that Pink’s grandma and Ms. Chen had a good relationship, perhaps because they were both elderly. Elizabeth wasn’t the type to care for others’ house plants when there was free food to be had. Lin Sanjiu glanced downstairs to find Ji Shanqing looking up at her with wide eyes. She gave him an apologetic smile and hurried back to her apartment.
When she returned with a plate to apartment No. 6, Silvan had also been called inside and given a child-sized portion of the baked rolls. Ms. Chen showed no intention of letting her linger. Once the food was served, she hurriedly shooed Lin Sanjiu out. Even though it was Pink’s grandma’s home, she acted like an obedient guest, quietly following Ms. Chen’s instructions. The middle-aged man sat leisurely on the sofa, knitting a sweater. As Lin Sanjiu was heading out with her plate, he smiled and said, “I saw you talking to Pink.”
“Huh?” Lin Sanjiu looked at Silvan beside her. “Oh, yeah. I like kids.”
“I have to protect him!” Pink’s grandma exclaimed, extending her arm to ruffle Silvan’s blond hair before returning to her knitting. Lin Sanjiu suspected this might be the first time Silvan had received a head pat from a man since childhood, and more such moments awaited him. “He’s my only grandson. I must protect him.”
It sounded as if someone might harm him.
Ms. Chen asked, “Where are his parents?”
An excellent question.
Pink’s grandma put down her knitting needles, looking bewildered. “I don’t know who they are.”