The day I became the planner of Weird World, I wrote a rule for myself:
Rule 1: Always leave a glimmer of hope for players.
Rule 2: That glimmer of hope must be hidden in a place where I can crush it at any time.
As a result, I became a cold-blooded lackey in the mouth of all players, bearing the most vicious curse.
They don't know that if I kill someone, no one will survive!
They don't understand that this is a survival game with no hope. Planting hope in the rules of death is the greatest kindness I can give.
Behind the endless killing spies, and before the real god behind the scenes comes, I must endure.
Every game I design is turned into the cruelest sieve - eliminating threats and tempering strong soldiers!
I hide my kindness in desperate situations, just to point the blade to the gods higher up.
When the final horn sounds, I will tear off all disguises and issue the ultimate command to the players crawling out of purgatory behind me:
"Brothers!"
"This is the final copy!"
"Kill God with me!!"
