A Despicable Imitation of Warhammer 40,000

Blue Star, late night.

Wang Zhong rubbed his sore eyes and exited the matchmaking queue for Warhammer 40,000: Space Marine 2.

Six hours.

He had played Exterminatus mode for six straight hours, using his bolter to shatter the heads of countless Tyranids and Chaos scum.

But now, even matchmaking took three minutes; the game was dying.

"By the Emperor, this matchmaking system must have been blessed by Tzeentch."

He muttered, his fingers tapping out the full version of his gaming ID on the keyboard: "Loyal to the Emperor but have to work Monday so I can only play until 2 AM."

This was his universal ID across all games—outrageously long, but clear in its meaning.

Just as he prepared to close Steam and click on that hidden folder labeled "Study Materials," a pop-up window appeared without warning, slapping him right in the face.

"Era 40k: Mecha, a sea of stars, yours to explore."

He read it aloud, his voice filled with a sense of offended absurdity, "Which stitch-up developer came up with this name?"

"Do you know what '40k' means in the gaming circle?"

"Do you know how many lore books, how many retcons, how much 'Ork logic,' and how many Astartes' sacrifices lie behind those two characters?"

He moved his mouse, aiming precisely at the "×" in the top right corner of the pop-up.

This page... was too clean.

No flashing "First Purchase Gets a Bolter" ads, no "If you're a Primarch, come fight me" banners; it was as clean as the frontispiece of an Ecclesiarchy scripture, if one ignored that heretical slogan about a sea of stars being yours to explore.

"Fine, let this loyalist see what electronic plague leaked out of which Chaos den."

He clicked in, prepared to report it immediately after viewing, having already decided on the reason: "Suspected T'au Empire cultural infiltration."

The CG began to play.

Stars, warships, mecha... fluid visuals, rugged sci-fi designs, and an uplifting atmosphere of exploration.

Wang Zhong's crossed arms slowly loosened.

"...Damn."

Ten seconds later, he spat out a single word, "This CG, it has a bit of the aesthetic of Sanguinius' wings, doesn't it?"

"No, wait, these mecha have no skulls, no aquilas—they're as clean as an atheist! But this texture..."

He saw the number of initial slots: 5,000. The number hadn't moved yet.

Curiosity, a drive second only to loyalty to the Emperor and hatred for heresy, compelled him.

He quickly switched to an encrypted chat group named Terra Underground Network Tavern (Non-Heretical).

Loyal to the Emperor: "@everyone, look at this pop-up! Era 40k: Mecha! Which Chaos spawn is running this racket?"

I'm Not the Regent I'm Just a Passing Guilliman:

"? Too many red flags in the name."

"Is the link safe?"

"Last time I clicked on one for 'Conquering the Eye of Terror,' I ended up with 50GB of Nurgle-daddy memes on my hard drive the next day."

Schrodinger's Loyalist: "Era 40k? Good grief, is the timeline really that rigid?"

"Aren't you afraid of being snatched by the Inquisition as a temporal heretic?"

Mechanicus Oil-Lover on the Run: "Clicked it."

"CG rendering precision exceeds common commercial engines by 17.4%. The mecha structural design lacks reasonable aesthetic coherence (no skull decorations or sacred prayers). Suspected to be a product of unknown technological origin."

"A bit suspicious, but very interesting."

Did White Scars speed today: "My hand was fast! Slot secured! Lightning fast! But why didn't I have to fill out any info? Faster than an Ork looting gear!"

Emperor's Sword but very dull: "I clicked it too! How is this slot distribution method as casual as Ork 'I think it works' logic?"

Wang Zhong watched as the old-timers in the group started clicking, so he hurried back to the page to click as well.

The numbers began to jump: 4999, 4998... the speed increasing rapidly.

"Interesting." He switched back to the group.

Loyal to the Emperor but today I won't pardon traitors: "Brothers, fast hands get it, slow hands miss out!"

"There are only 5,000 spots! Whether it's a trial from the Emperor or a labyrinth of Tzeentch, let's fill it up first!"

"Worst case, once we're in, we shout 'For the Emperor!' If they're allies, we kill heretics together; if it's a trap, we kill the developers!"

Cadian Soul (Retired): "Filled! Cadians never retreat! Even if it's a trap!"

Want Silent King's Crown but cannot afford: "Filled."

"I hope the psychic power mechanics are reasonable, not like some games where psykers just set off fireworks."

T'au-kun, you're right, but the bolter is righter: "Registered."

"In the name of the Emperor, I shall observe with caution."

"Should I detect any inclination toward the Titan Coalition Army, I shall immediately execute a physical purge."

Soon, the 5,000 slots were exhausted.

Wang Zhong received a brief confirmation of his eligibility, and then everything fell silent.

For the rest of the day, Wang Zhong was somewhat distracted.

Even while slacking off at work, he couldn't stop thinking about that game.

How could it achieve immersion without VR equipment?

Had there been a breakthrough in brain-interface technology?

That was impossible; there hadn't been a whisper of such news.

Could it be some new form of hypnosis or subconscious projection? Wouldn't that make it a cult?

He checked his email and QQ periodically, terrified of missing the download link.

It wasn't until eleven o'clock at night, just as he was preparing to wash up for bed, that an inconspicuous download prompt suddenly popped up in the bottom right corner of his computer screen.

The installation package was tiny, only 17kb.

"So small? Are you kidding me?" Wang Zhong downloaded it casually and clicked to open.

A pitch-black page immediately popped up, displaying text:

[Connection preparing... Please ensure you are in a safe environment. The immersive experience lasts approximately 8 hours; external perception will be temporarily disabled.]

"For real?"

Wang Zhong took a deep breath and clicked confirm.

His perception was pulled away, falling.

There was no character creation screen as expected, only a deep darkness and a silent descent.

Then, fragmented, unfamiliar images and sensations, like drops of ink in clear water, bled into his consciousness.

...The texture of coarse bread...

...The scolding voice of a man called "Old Barry"...

...Carrying parts in a grease-stained workshop, his arms aching...

..."Cal," someone calls you that... No, not you...

...The gray, hazy sky of Arlu City, the massive chimneys...

...A blurry face, perhaps a relative...

...The fear of the Crimson Bright Wasteland, the howling at night...

These fragments were chaotic and real, carrying the gritty texture of life at the bottom of society.

They settled rapidly, becoming a thin layer of background memory, as if they had always been there and were only just being recalled.

Immediately following, a cold voice resonated directly in the depths of his consciousness, forming a sharp contrast to those warm memory fragments:

[Local identity memory fragments successfully implanted. To facilitate identification and player coordination, please set your public player identifier (name). This identifier will serve as your primary interaction credential.]

Wang Zhong's consciousness was still a bit dazed; the trivial memories of Cal left him slightly confused.

But his powerful gaming instincts immediately suppressed the discomfort.

"A name? Isn't that just a game ID?"

His thoughts raced, "In a place that sounds this hardcore, having a name like 'Loyal to the Emperor but I have to work on Monday'... if I shout that out, I'll probably get killed."

"It needs to be short, punchy, and state my position!"

He focused his intent and transmitted the information to the cold voice:

"[Loyal to the Emperor Forever]."

[Identifier confirmed: Loyal to the Emperor Forever. Connection stable. Consciousness projection commencing.]