Chu Guang Was Playing a Grand Game of Chess

It wasn't just Fang Chang who had noticed. Quite a few players had caught on as well.

The significance of this update went far beyond merely improving the economic system and folding Contribution Points into the Honor system.

Its greatest significance was that it emphasized cooperation between players!

As the player count increased, this step had been inevitable.

A good social system could not only improve the players' gaming experience, but also increase user retention and daily activity.

Though the latter seemed somewhat redundant for a technically superb game like Wasteland OL.

So far, every player Chu Guang had selected was hardcore as hell. They practically wanted to stay online twenty-four hours a day, and unless it was time for forced logout, they couldn't bear to leave the game.

They were so self-disciplined it was like they had no sex lives.

In any case, in the eyes of most players, this update would have a far-reaching impact on cooperation between players.

Although the official team had not updated the social system, many of the existing mechanics were already laying the groundwork for parties and guilds.

The most obvious example was that players could share land-use rights with friends.

Five square meters of land might not be enough to do anything with, but if four players pooled their plots together, they could scrape together twenty square meters—enough to build a small house.

If that wasn't the prototype of a guild, what was?

"Xiao Qi, do you know what the soul of a game is?"

"What is it?"

Standing on the third floor of the sanatorium, Chu Guang watched the players bustling about inside and outside the outpost base, the corner of his mouth lifting into a faint smile.

"Mathematics."

"Mathematics?"

"Mm. More precisely, it's numerical design. It's an art. Excellent numerical design can even become gameplay in itself. Compared to that, story, visuals, and setting are merely the added value that art gives a game."

Baidu wasn't completely useless.

Every now and then, it did turn up some nonsense worth spouting.

After pausing for a moment, Chu Guang continued unhurriedly.

"Through numerical design, we can keep the Contribution Points and money earned each day by most players who follow the usual routine within a reasonable range."

"For example, under normal circumstances, it should take two to three weeks to rise from Resident to Citizen. That time can't be too long, or players will lose confidence. But it can't be too short either—things obtained too easily have no value. Once players become Citizens and turn into our core users, we'll immediately give them a new goal, like buying land."

Xiao Qi tilted its camera.

"Buying land? But the land prices you set don't seem very expensive."

"That's right." Chu Guang nodded. "For players who have already obtained Citizenship, buying land itself won't take long. It might even be as simple as opening their wallets. But after they buy land, they'll have to build something on it, right?"

"Building houses requires cement and bricks, while sturdier little villas require steel. If they build more houses, won't the production capacity for cement, bricks, steel, and other construction materials go up? I don't believe these players would be happy seeing their little homes in the game looking as ugly as shacks. Why do Citizens only get five square meters? If I gave them ten or twenty square meters, our safe zone would soon be filled with useless shacks and trash."

Xiao Qi said, "Ah, well..."

For an AI, understanding such things through empathy seemed rather difficult.

But Chu Guang didn't care.

Smiling faintly, he continued.

"Once the house is built, they can't exactly live in an unfinished shell, can they? Beds, tables, cabinets, carpets, curtains—and once we have electricity, they can even get light bulbs. They'll need to furnish the place, at least a little. Logs, fur, handicrafts... with all that going back and forth, won't production capacity and consumption rise together, one stepping on the other?"

Whether they were buying land to build houses or purchasing furniture, all of it required money.

And where would that money come from?

Sorry, this game was still in closed beta and did not support microtransactions for the time being. If they wanted money, they would have to honestly complete quests, grind instances, or go underground to work.

Using the quest system as a lever, Chu Guang could easily control the flow of money and indirectly direct the players' behavior.

For example, if the Vault lacked food, he could raise the rewards for gathering and hunting quests. If houses needed to be built, he could increase the earnings from hauling bricks, plastering, and firing cement.

What if mutants or raiders came knocking?

Then it wouldn't be a matter of money.

Chu Guang would issue a "never retreat" war mobilization in the form of an "in-game event," temporarily waive some of the players' death penalties during the event, and hand out weapons.

Faced with a disaster that feared neither pain nor death—

Even mutants who knew no fear would tremble.

"...Once they've played around with that long enough, I'll unlock new identity ranks for them. Beyond Citizen, there'll be Intermediate Citizen, and the land they can purchase will increase to twenty-five square meters. By then, the second ring of walls will be finished, and we won't be short on cement, bricks, lumber, or steel. Unless something goes wrong, they'll build a larger house and repeat the whole process all over again."

"One day, when they get tired of building houses right outside their front doors, I'll toss these veteran players noble titles and assign them fiefs a little farther away, then let them do whatever they want. Weapons, ammunition, food, fuel, construction materials... there'll always be something they can produce. And if they can't produce it, they can import it from back home. That'll give the new players something to do, too."

"As for after that? We'll talk about it when we get there. Damn it, I've only unlocked B1 of the Vault myself, yet here I am worrying about things so far ahead for them..."

It was still unknown how many cultivation chambers Vault 404 contained. For all he knew, he might have to figure out how to build the things himself someday.

He was certain that the all-powerful first-generation Administrator had accomplished some unprecedented technological breakthrough within this Vault.

And once Chu Guang uncovered all its secrets, that person would surely reveal the entire truth to him.

Still, while the road ahead remained impossible to predict, Chu Guang was full of confidence in the major Alpha 0.3 update.

He was playing a grand game.

In the first phase of his plan, players who had received nine years of compulsory education were all high-quality labor. There would be no problem skipping straight past an agricultural society and leaping into industrialization.

Once the most basic industrialization had been achieved, they would possess the prerequisites for survival in the wasteland.

In the second phase, as the player population expanded, Chu Guang would try to bring in a group of wasteland natives to join the outpost, assigning them to basic production jobs like farming, chopping wood, and making cement. If any of those natives possessed special talents, he would arrange special positions for them as well.

The players who had already upgraded into citizens, meanwhile, could be freed from basic manual labor and devote more of themselves to challenging and "enjoyable" work such as creativity, combat, and exploration, fully leveraging their advantage of being able to revive endlessly and repeatedly learn through trial and error.

Then came the third phase—the final phase.

Ideally, the wasteland natives serving as NPCs and the players who were clones would have formed a unique symbiotic social relationship.

Their strengths would complement one another while keeping each other in check.

If all went well, players with homes, property, equipment, friendships, and even love here would come to regard Wasteland OL as their "second life." They would become supporters of order rather than challengers of it, creating a healthy game ecosystem.

This kind of game actually existed in reality, too.

It was commonly known as the "server environment."

Of course, Chu Guang knew that plans could never keep up with change, so he had also prepared plenty of Plan Bs to deal with unexpected situations.

But at least for now, the first phase of the plan was progressing quite well.

The closed beta players Chu Guang had carefully selected had clearly been tempted by the grand promises he had laid out. They were cooperating even better than he had expected.

Xiao Qi raised her camera and looked at her master standing beside her, quietly reminding him.

"Master, do you know that you're smiling like a villain right now?"

"A villain? Have you ever seen a villain as kind as me?"

Chu Guang shot a glare at this thing that never knew how to speak properly.

"I freed them from their boring daily lives and gave them an extraordinary extra twelve hours in their lives. All they need to pay is a little sweat and the time they spend dreaming. Other than that, they lose nothing at all—they don't even have to spend a single cent!"

Damn it.

Put that way, he was really losing out.

These helmets should have come with a price tag!

But after thinking it over, Chu Guang had no idea what use he would have for money. Anything bought online couldn't be delivered here, and he did not need to pay for the server's electricity or the helmets' manufacturing costs.

At least for now, charging money would only be troublesome.

Shaking his head, Chu Guang withdrew his gaze from the window, turned his back to Xiao Qi, and yawned.

"The wind on the rooftop is a little strong."

"I'm heading back to the shelter first. I'll leave this place to you."

His most favored "Workhorse Squad" had already set out with the bows, javelins, and rations they had pooled money to buy. They had probably gone hunting.

Chu Guang had deliberately been training the player named Ye Shi. Not only had he taught him survival skills for the wasteland and how to use "Perception" to track prey and spot danger, but he had even taken him to successfully find the trail of a deer herd.

If they still failed to bring back any prey after all that, it would be a disgrace to his efforts.

His supply of 9mm bullets was running low as well, so Chu Guang decided to give himself the day off.

Xiao Qi shifted her camera and obediently accepted the order.

"As you command, Master."

By noon, a hoarse whimper drifted out from the half-open cultivation pod next to the shelter's resident hall.

"Wuwuwu, big sis is finally alive!"

Having gotten up too excitedly and smacked her forehead against the not-yet-fully-open pod lid, Ya Ya rubbed her reddened forehead as she sat up from the cultivation pod.

Looking at the delicate skin and enviable figure reflected in the mirror across from her, her eyes filled with tears.

Half from pain, half from excitement.

Before logging in, she had lurked on the forums for a full three days!

Three days!

Heaven knew how she had endured those three sleepless nights without a helmet.

After wiping away the tears she had forced out, Ya Ya swiftly put on the clothes stored in the compartment at the head of the pod, tugged the zipper tight, and jogged toward the room's exit.

The lights in the resident hall were on.

Chu Guang, who had just returned from outside, was sitting at the computer in the hall browsing the internet.

Hearing footsteps from next door, he casually closed the webpage he had been viewing, released the mouse, and looked toward the player entering the hall.

This little chive kept her head lowered and spoke in a remorseful tone.

"Respected Administrator, please allow me to apologize for my rash and thoughtless actions!"

Although the planners had told her that apologizing was meaningless, this NPC was simply far too realistic.

Especially when he looked at her, she always felt that if she did not say sorry, she would never be able to forgive herself.

"You don't need to apologize to me. The ones you've let down are the organization's trust, and those still lying beneath the earth, waiting."

Chu Guang glanced at the clothes she was wearing.

If he remembered correctly, each cultivation pod only came with two sets of those blue jacket uniforms. If this girl died again, she would probably have no choice but to run around naked.

Although Teng Teng had made some warm fur coats, they were only suitable as outerwear. Wearing nothing underneath them would be somewhat inappropriate for children.

Especially since this girl's figure was a little unusual...

Chu Guang continued expressionlessly.

"...According to the rules, I should deduct 500 Contribution Points from you, but unfortunately, you don't have any Contribution Points to deduct."

Ya Ya lowered her head and said shamefully.

"I'm truly very sorry. I'm willing to accept any punishment!"

"Punishment is meant to teach you a lesson. If you want to survive in this wasteland, you need more than courage—you need brains as well. I hope you will cherish your life, and cherish this hard-won opportunity to reach the surface even more."

Chu Guang paused, then continued.

"I'm assigning you a task. Go outside and gather 100 kilograms of food, including but not limited to wild vegetables, berries, and mushrooms. Until the punishment task is completed, your status will be downgraded from 'Resident' to 'Criminal Resident.' With this status, you cannot accept normal tasks or receive any rewards."

"Remember, your balance is no longer enough to cover the death penalty. If you die again, I will permanently send you back underground."

"Take care of yourself."

Permanent repatriation meant being stripped of her qualification to play.

In the fictional game setting, all players came from the deepest part of the shelter—a hibernation center containing thousands of frozen people—acting as an advance force returning to the surface.

Hearing the words "permanent repatriation," Ya Ya trembled and hurriedly said, "Yes! I promise it will never happen again!"

Fairly satisfied with her repentant attitude, Chu Guang nodded lightly.

"Go."

Ya Ya drooped dejectedly and was about to head for the door when the administrator sitting behind the desk suddenly called out to her.

"Wait."

Ya Ya stopped and turned around.

"Do you have any other instructions?"

"Mm, wait a moment. I want to show you something."

As he spoke, Chu Guang took a metal-packaged can from the drawer, pulled the ring tab, and tore off the lid.

A fragrant aroma wafted out of the can.

Chu Guang froze when he saw it.

He had not expected this aged can to have neither separated grease nor any signs of deterioration. It looked as if it had just been produced.

Could it have been processed just now...?

Chu Guang's expression turned a little strange.

Did it still need to be tested for poison?

It did not seem necessary.

Ya Ya, who had just been revived, did not think that much about it.

Her stomach was empty right now. She had not been hungry before, but the moment she saw that delicious-looking canned food, she could not help swallowing.

She looked up at the administrator, her face filled with disbelief and emotion.

"Th-this is for me?"

Chu Guang did not answer, only asked, "Do you want to eat it?"

Ya Ya nodded quickly.

"Yes."

Chu Guang followed up with another question.

"Then is there anything strange about its color? For example... a green glow?"

Ya Ya shook her head vigorously.

"No!"

When you were hungry, everything smelled delicious. Her attention had already been completely hooked by the food, and she could not help swallowing again.

This administrator was way too generous!

Although he had just punished her, b-but-but—

"Alright, I understand."

Chu Guang took the can back.

"I was only showing it to you. Don't overthink it."

Ya Ya: "???"

In the end, the little player ran out with tears welling in her eyes.

Sitting in his chair and eating the canned food, Chu Guang also felt that he might, perhaps, have indeed gone just a tiny bit too far this time...