Chapter 1515
Doomsday Wonderland Chapter 1515: Inside the Launch Event
Chapter 1515: Inside the Launch Event
Lin Sanjiu quietly glanced at the time below her computer screen.
Since she had followed Zhou Xian into the room, nearly fifteen minutes had pa.s.sed; as the “ninth game maker,” she should excuse herself and turn around to go create games — but as soon as she looked up, she realized she was trapped by a problem she hadn’t previously considered.
The door to the room was closed.
She remembered that Zhou Xian hadn’t deliberately closed the door when he came in, and she certainly wouldn’t have done so herself; thinking about it now, it was likely because the door itself wasn’t what it appeared to be, a double wooden door, and had slowly slid shut on its own.
It was too late to stomp her foot in frustration now. Could she still ask Zhou Xian to open the door for her? As the ninth game maker, was she unable to even open a door?
Fortunately, as Lin Sanjiu was pondering what to do, Zhou Xian seemed completely unaware that she should have left by now. His attention was fully focused on the game — even though there were still two or three days left until the game’s completion, he had already named it “Do You Still Remember?” Now, he was considering what punishment to give to players who remember correctly.
His concentration and commitment would have been enough to earn him the t.i.tle of Employee of the Month in any company.
“If you delay any longer, he’s going to realize you should have left by now,” Mrs. Manas said.
Lin Sanjiu looked at the faintly visible door behind the screen, then at Zhou Xian — she didn’t know how to get him to open the door without arousing suspicion. Zhou Xian had become defensive after being hit, constantly wearing protective text, so even forcing him through violence wouldn’t work.
For now, she still had to pretend to be fascinated and continue to stay.
“Maybe a lightning strike? Will it kill them though?” Zhou Xian muttered, deleting the text on the screen, looking at the cursor hesitantly. “Can’t kill them. It has to be especially uncomfortable… like that Russian guy’s dog.”
What Russian guy’s dog?
Lin Sanjiu was taken aback, then understood he probably meant Pavlov’s dog.
Was he planning to cause physiological discomfort or even fear in the players by punis.h.i.+ng them for retracing their true historical experiences, making memory pliable like putty?
As a feeling of discomfort rose from her stomach, she suddenly came up with an idea.
Lin Sanjiu quickly pulled out [Migratory Letters] and took out a pen, telling Zhou Xian, “You’re really experienced. Let me take some notes.” Without waiting for his response, she began to write:
Yu Yuan? Are you still with Poe?
Zhou Xian, flattered by her words and actions, laughed, even humbly responding, “Others have written some good games too. You can ask around later and get some experience.”
Perhaps this was a chance to lead the conversation to the apartment game.
“Really? Are they as difficult as this one?” Lin Sanjiu asked, feigning curiosity. “What’s something that made a deep impression on you?”
“Let me think.” Zhou Xian lifted his hands from the keyboard, his gaze drifting into mid-air.
A response from Yu Yuan appeared on [Migratory Letters].
“I’m still here. Poe just told me that newcomers are more likely to be sacrificed to buy a few more days of stay for the others. Of course, he always tries to clear himself, repeatedly saying he’s never done anything wrong.” Yu Yuan’s text paused for a moment before continuing. “I can now control this corpse better, and the corpse spots have lightened since I started moving. Poe seems to completely believe that I’m a living person, as he repeated ‘death doesn’t affect us’ twice. He’s trying to be friendly with me, asking if I have a boyfriend, saying he can take care of me a bit.”
What on earth was going on?
While Zhou Xian was still silent, Lin Sanjiu wrote hastily, “Can you find an excuse to trick Edgar Allan Poe to come to Zhou Xian’s place? Like shouting loudly for him to go out or something… He won’t open the door, and I can’t get out.”
Of course, she couldn’t let Edgar Allan Poe notice her, and Yu Yuan couldn’t let Zhou Xian discover him. This was naturally within the Veda’s consideration, so she didn’t need to say much.
She had almost finished writing in haste when Zhou Xian turned his head toward her.
“There’s a robber game. Though the rules are simple and straightforward, you have to keep watching; even the simple ones can be exciting. That game continually asks players to rob and kill, no matter who the target is, basically giving no breathing s.p.a.ce. If you can’t get one thing, you lose. There were even people who went mentally insane by the end. There are also intricate ones, like the elephant in the room…”
Oh yes, the person who wrote that game should be here as well.
“Elephant? Who wrote that?” Lin Sanjiu held back waves of nausea and turned her eyes toward him. The brief sentence “I’ll give it a try” from Yu Yuan was still the last line on the paper.
“I can’t remember who did the rewrite. It was originally a template,” Zhou Xian said, forgetting at the crucial moment. “I don’t remember exactly. Anyway, it’s not one of those who usually stand out like Edgar Allan Poe or Queen Nocturna.”
Another template.
“I prefer apartment-type games,” she said tentatively. “Has anyone written any apartment-type games?”
“No,” Zhou Xian said, uninterested.
It seemed that what he didn’t know was considered nonexistent—he didn’t feel the need to think a little more for the sake of others.
When Lin Sanjiu realized that his eyes had fallen on the time on the computer screen, her heart tightened. Unexpectedly, Zhou Xian was silent for a moment, as if thinking about something.
What was going on?
“Oh, has it been this long?” Zhou Xian’s eyes scanned the time again, as if he had just come back to reality. “Shouldn’t you go back and start writing your game?”
“Oh, right,” Lin Sanjiu replied hastily. Could she ask him to check her room? The problem was, she didn’t know where the young female corpse’s room was.
Zhou Xian suddenly stood up, moving towards the screen. “Let me walk you out. There are often newcomers here, and I’ve seen quite a few, but you, little brother, are quite to my taste.”
What did that mean?
Though still puzzled, Lin Sanjiu knew that suddenly going out was no longer a problem. Taking advantage of his turned back, she quickly left the words “wait a moment” for Yu Yuan on the paper, followed him in a few steps, and as Zhou Xian opened the door for her and stood to the side, Lin Sanjiu’s foot, about to step out the door, suddenly stopped.
She turned to look at Zhou Xian.
The latter’s half face was swollen, looking at her under the blood-stained, thick eyelids.
Lin Sanjiu looked at the corridor leading to the circular hall. It was empty, not a person in sight, but she felt a strong, almost uncomfortable sensation all over her body as if several pairs of eyes were unblinkingly watching her from thin air.
Zhou Xian waved. “Go on. Hurry up, don’t waste time.”
Yu Yuan said that they would keep the number of people short to extend the stay period. Edgar Allan Poe said that newcomers were more likely to become sacrificial victims. Zhou Xian said there were often newcomers here.
Putting these few pieces together, one could realize what these eight people were doing—not to mention the feeling of surveillance in the hallway outside, almost as if giant eyeb.a.l.l.s were plastered to the door, giving Lin Sanjiu gooseb.u.mps.
Having taken the young girl’s place, she was now the ninth person.