The Concept of Players

As everyone pondered the issue of offline safety, Ruan Wenbo could not help but interject, "Um... Bit, as the designer, after we log off, could you give our characters a simple AI? After all, everyone has things to do in real life. It'd be way too frustrating if we went out for a meal and came back to find the characters we'd worked so hard to build were gone. Judging by this game's background story, there probably isn't any absolutely safe place to log off on Pedetia right now..."

Ruan Wenbo's words gave Bit pause.

In an instant, his thoughts no longer focused on the tiny Player souls before him. Instead, they drifted to a deeper level and settled upon the first weapon he had personally created—[Xenos Must Die].

In truth, it had never been a mere masterwork Chainsword. It was Bit's first attempt, as the God of Information, to use his authority for offensive creation.

That Chainsword was, in essence, a conceptual weapon.

Its lethality did not stem from conventional principles of physics or biology—such as the rotation speed of its teeth, the hardness of its material, or its efficiency at tearing flesh. The reason it could cut through those Cultists who had abandoned their human identities like vegetables was that, from the moment it was created, it had been bestowed with the core [concept] of "dealing immense damage to non-human entities." The Chainsword was merely a manifestation of that concept in the material world.

What even Bit himself had not expected was that, after Ruan Wenbo used the sword, it had naturally developed a vague form of consciousness. This consciousness was innately filled with hatred for Xenos and a desire to slaughter them. That pure will, in turn, reinforced the already powerful [concept] once more. The Adeptus Mechanicus might simply classify it as a "Machine Spirit," but Bit, who saw through its true nature, clearly did not think so.

A bold idea flashed through Bit's mind.

What if he tried giving these Players a core [concept]? For instance, the very concept of [Player].

No. Bit immediately thought deeper. He did not need to bestow this concept himself. The moment he had made the decision to "summon Players," the instant these souls from another world had answered that summons and descended here, the new concept of [Player] had already been born. Within the projections of the Warp, perhaps a vague reflection belonging to "Players" already existed. He had simply never noticed it before...

Concepts... concepts...

An act that had originally been nothing more than a whim had given him an entirely new, revolutionary understanding of his authority as the God of Information. Bit felt increasingly fortunate that he had decided to summon Players. If he had continued wandering alone through the boundless Warp with nothing to do, perhaps even another ten thousand years would not have sparked such precious inspiration.

Naturally, Bit bore no ill will toward the Players who had inadvertently brought such tremendous insight to his research. He drew his thoughts back to the present and, facing their expectant gazes, replied, "This is not a simple task. I cannot give you a definite answer right now."

After truly realizing what he was doing, Bit decided to proceed with the utmost caution. This was absolutely not something that could be solved by putting a simple AI script into every logged-off Player's body. What it involved was the definition and shaping of a newborn concept. One misstep, and the consequences would be impossible to predict.

Hearing this vague answer, disappointment appeared on the Players' faces. It seemed they would really have to put more thought into logging off in the future. Perhaps the best solution would be to form fixed teams, taking turns logging in to keep watch and logging off to rest.

That would undoubtedly make the game even less appealing to casual and moderate Players with irregular schedules.

While Bit and the Players conducted this cross-dimensional question-and-answer session, the atmosphere in a chat group called "Dr. Ruan's Direct Radio Station" on distant Earth was becoming somewhat unusual.

[Moyufeng]: "Weird. Why hasn't Brother Ruan said anything all day? Has he been lurking the entire time?"

[HasItUpdatedToday]: "Yeah. Normally, he'd have come out to spam the chat by this time. Today he's so quiet he feels like a fake account."

[ILoveBrotherRuanForever]: "I can understand him not uploading a video. There's no point urging him to update anyway. But not popping up in the group even once all day? That's definitely not normal! I went through all his social media accounts. His last post was still yesterday's: 'Got into the closed beta for that new Warhammer game. Going to try it out.' Could that game really be that fun?"

The fans in the group discussed it heatedly. For Ruan Wenbo, a gaming UP master known for being down-to-earth and constantly interacting with his audience, going a day without uploading a video was still normal. But going an entire day without saying a single word in his core fan group was like the sun rising in the west.

Meanwhile, Ruan Wenbo himself, the subject of his fans' fervent discussion, finally felt that sensation of being pulled away return after the Q&A session ended. The bizarre sights before his eyes rapidly faded, and his consciousness fell like a kite with its string cut before steadily "installing" itself back into its familiar body.

"Click."

The door of the Game Pod automatically opened, and soft indoor light streamed in. Ruan Wenbo sat up sluggishly and climbed out of the Game Pod.

The instant his feet touched the ground, an intense sense of wrongness swept through his entire body.

His limbs... felt so weak.

He tried taking two steps and felt as though he were carrying a burden of a hundred pounds. Every step was heavy and sluggish. He took a deep breath, yet his chest felt like a battered old bellows. His lungs worked with pitifully low efficiency, nowhere near as effortlessly as they had in the "game."

He quickly understood—it was an aftereffect caused by the game being too realistic.

Although an ordinary Astra Militarum soldier was insignificant in the brutal Warhammer universe, little more than cannon fodder, the physical fitness forged through harsh training made him a superhuman in every respect compared to a standard twenty-first-century shut-in like him who lacked exercise. After getting used to that body's strength and endurance, returning to his own body created such a powerful contrast that he struggled to adapt for a moment.

"Damn... this game is incredible." Ruan Wenbo marveled once more at its extreme realism, but he did not forget his proper duty as a gaming UP master.

He shook his head, forcing himself to adapt to this "frail" body, then hurried to his desk and turned on his computer.

The mere three days he had spent on the planet called Pedetia had given him an unprecedented flood of inspiration for video production. From the hive city air that had immediately given them a taste of its power, to his first bloody battle against Cultists, to his conversation with the designer "Bit"—every segment was material worthy of an epic.

He had to record these ideas and memories immediately, organize them, and turn them into a script.

Ruan Wenbo had an incredibly strong premonition that the video he was about to make would absolutely explode across the internet!