This Game Is Too Realistic

Just as the two were walking towards the guard station, a young man slipped out of the station.

The north wind was blowing outside. Lu Bei tightened his coat, which was torn with holes, and walked towards the north.

A battle had broken out here before, the ground was full of trampled snow and muddy water mixed with blood, and the shocking footprints were everywhere on the ground, not yet completely frozen.

Several guards who came to back them up stood nearby on duty, supervising several prisoners of war to drag the dead bodies and line them up on the clearing.

The dead bodies were easily recognizable, the guards were all wearing black coats, and the marauders were mostly dressed in ugly fur.

The bodies of the guards were covered with cloth or something.

And the marauders’ bodies were placed on the ground with their faces up. Later, a truck would come here to tow them away.

The bodies would attract scavenging mutants, and even more likely to bring plague, so they had to be disposed of in time.

Noticing the boy in the coat, a guard walked over and urged him to leave. "Hey! What are you doing here? Go back before your wound is worsened by the cold weather."

Looking at the expression on his face, the guard was dazed.

After a moment of silence, he nodded. "Then hurry up."

"Thanks!" After nodding in gratefully, Lu Bei immediately trotted over. After searching for a while in the pile of dead people, he finally found the person he was looking for.

Breathing paused slightly, he lifted the sackcloth with his shaking fingers.

Glancing at the frosted wrinkles and eyebrows, Lu Bei’s Adam’s Apple bobbed slightly, and this time he finally believed what his comrades said to him.

After being silent for a long time, Lu Bei silently took out a still warm lunch box from his arms and placed it next to the old man’s face.

"... Captain told me that it takes more courage than facing a Deathclaw. He also said that thanks to you, we responded in time, otherwise the consequences would have been unimaginable.

"He said that our enemies are much stronger than the Bloodhand Clan, and defeating them is something to be proud of. We not only defeated our enemies, but we also defeated our past.

"Captain also said a lot of things, but I can’t remember them. I just remember that the soup was delicious, especially when I just scooped it out of the pot, my whole body was warmed up after I took a sip...

"... I’ll leave it here." When Lu Bei was about to get up, he suddenly saw the whistle between the cracked lips.

After a while of silence, Lu Bei reached out and gently tugged at the whistle that was bitten by the man’s teeth, taking it out of his mouth.

He found an undamaged pocket on the tattered coat and carefully put it in. "Thank you. I’ll keep it for you."

After whispering something, the boy covered the body with a cloth, got up, gave a military salute, and walked away in the direction of the guard station...

...

On the official website of Wasteland Online.

[Server Announcement: The emergency mission is over, thank you all for foiling the marauder’s raid and successfully defeating them!]

[Server Announcement: All players who responded to the mobilization will receive a bronze gear medal, and the team with the highest score will receive a silver gear medal.]

[The campaign rewards will be settled later. I wish everyone a happy holiday.]

For the native people in the wasteland, the price of any victory was heavy.

But for players who didn’t belong to the world, it was just a game.

After taking off their helmets, they still had to eat dumplings they hadn’t finished, or reheat their cold takeout, or there may be unfinished work for them to be done later.

Chu Guang pondered for a long time, but eventually did not write down his feeling of heaviness in the announcement.

Today is New Year’s Day.

And there will be a funeral at dawn.

The battle report can wait until tomorrow.

Things other than the main storyline could be written in the settings on the official website, or placed in the game as easter eggs for players to discover by themselves.

The players had already done a great job and they shouldn’t be made to think about philosophical questions by him.

Back on the official forum, things were blowing up.

Tomato Eggs: Brothers, how is the situation on the front line? Is the war campaign over?

Old White: We didn’t make it in time, by the time we rushed over, the battle was already over.

Tail: I’m the first to join the fight! This time I must be the MVP! (｀?′)Ψ

Mosquito: You wish. The MVP must be me, I wiped out four teams of marauders alone! (Smiling)

Tail: !!!n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

Battlefield Cheerleader: WTF?!

Night Ten: WTF! Are you cheating?!

Lightning Professor: I have a question, how many people are in the four teams?

Gale: Marauders usually have ten men in a team...

Lightning Professor: Damn!

Quit Smoking: Holy cow, so strong?!

Irene: Yes, Goblin Technology is on the rise. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Bathroom Goer: Strong my butt! The cannon is ours! (Flipping the table)

This_lord_is_arrogant_what_can_you_do: Lmao, that’s all? It’s not even one company in total. In my uncle’s group, even the weakest cook has a hundred or so kill count confirmed. Only forty, that is not even qualified as a rookie.

Irene: Brother, although we are in a dark forum, we shouldn’t talk nonsense. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Night Ten: I’m curious, is your uncle Hajrudin? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

...

The funeral for the fallen guards was held early the next morning.

All the guards lined up at the north gate, fired three shots into the sky, and then loaded the bodies of the dead into trucks.

In the wasteland, burying bodies in the soil was equivalent to giving food to the mutants. Many mutants had the habit of digging holes in the soil.

If given the choice, almost no one would choose to be buried.

The wish of the vast majority of the guards was to go to the iron furnace like the blue coats who had helped them.

There were also people who wished to be cremated, to have their ashes scattered in lakes, on tall buildings, or in places where they had fought and defended.

No one knew their last wishes better than their comrades, and those who survived would deal with those things for them.

Chu Guang stayed until the end at the funeral.

Before leaving, he suddenly noticed that several players were watching from a distance, and they stayed like him until the end.

Quit Bullshit couldn’t help but ask, "By the way... When the NPC in this game dies, they won’t respawn, right?"

Makka Pakka frowned. "Should be, I remember the dead NPCs in the settings on the official site seem to never come back after they die, but someone else will take their place."

Quit Bullshit sighed.

Makka Pakka glanced at him. "What’s wrong brother? Why so emotional early in the morning?"

Quit Bullshit raised an eyebrow slowly. "It’s nothing... I just counted around and found that there was one person missing."

Makka Pakka was surprised. "Huh? You can remember their faces?"

He couldn’t remember anyone’s face. There were very few faces that he could remember in reality, let alone games with filters.

The only ones he could remember were Xiaoyu and Xia Yan, and Luca at most.

Oh yes, and the honorable administrator.

But the administrator didn’t always show his face, so remembering his face was pointless, it was much easier to remember his dark blue exoframe.

Quit Bullshit said with a sigh, "No, I only remember a few. For example, the old man who would go to the lake to watch us fishing on weekends every week. Just by observing his behavior, I knew that he also liked to fish, so I gave him a fishing rod at that time, and taught him to catch leeches with a bottle..."

Makka Pakka was stunned. "Dang… Is there a hidden mission?"

"No." Quit Bullshit shook his head and sighed the third time. "Although it’s meaningless, it’s also quite interesting. But whenever I think that this fellow won’t be able to join us again, it feels a bit sad..."