This was once the most brutal wasteland survival game in the world, where gunfire and blood were the only themes.
Once upon a time, every high tower was filled with the remains of players, who fought all night long to snatch a piece of virtual compressed biscuit.
At the last second of the countdown to shutting down the server, all the killings came to an abrupt end. Under the rain of data, people took off their helmets and returned to a safe reality.
When I was in a daze, I was thinking - when the last bit of light and shadow goes out, do those zombies, wanderers and mechanical thugs who are set as villains know that they have been abandoned?
I didn't log out, I stayed in this wasteland of data.
Ten years later, I opened a warm wooden inn in the deepest part of the radiation.
The wasteland in the book is very gentle. There are no gold hunting groups, no resource wars, and no red-name explosive equipment.
There is only a group of confused monsters and an AI that has lost its command. They come to my fireplace every rainy night and drink a cup of low-quality ale with no attribute bonus.
