Pedetia Governor's Mansion, Strategic Command Room.
On the Holographic Projection tactical sandbox, the red band representing the Death Line still flashed violently. Every flash meant the loss of hundreds, perhaps thousands, of lives.
Standing before the desk, Joker solemnly reported on the situation within the Death Seekers Legion to Governor Robert.
"Governor, although our current losses remain within controllable limits, and the Commissar players intervened in time, preventing any large-scale wave of players quitting the game, we must pay attention to a dangerous sentiment spreading among them." Joker pointed at a curve on the data board. "This high-pressure meat grinder of a battlefield, where you die the moment you spawn, is an enormous mental ordeal for any player. Even the most hardcore players will break eventually if they revive dozens of times only to be taken out by inexplicable poison gas or artillery fire."
Robert set down the document in his hand, his brow furrowing slightly. As a veteran player himself, he understood that feeling all too well. A terrible gameplay experience was one thing; the deeper issue was that profound sense of helplessness.
"We have to take this seriously. Ideally, we need to stop them from even thinking about quitting." Robert tapped his fingers against the desk, his mind racing. In mere seconds, his experience as both an administrator and a player had already given him a string of solutions.
"Here's what we'll do, Joker." A sharp gleam flashed in Robert's eyes. "I'll contact Archer immediately and have him put his current work aside to craft a hundred sets of stylish Void Armor! The coolest-looking kind. Tell everyone that after the Thirty-Day Defense Campaign ends, we'll tally their merit points and award this limited-edition armor to the top hundred players. We'll even hold a public, server-wide armor presentation ceremony!"