"I always thought that in FPS gas, I was just an emotionless killing machine, and in RPG gas, just a quest junkie who loved to rummage through everything."
"Until this morning, I noticed the absence of a familiar figure among the guard squad."
"I didn’t know the na of that guard; I just knew he was probably the oldest among them."
"Like other unnad NPCs, he had a routine life, his daily tasks limited to training, standing guard, and patrolling. Besides that, he had one day off each week, usually either Thursday or Sunday, when he would go sit by the lake and watch us pass the ti fishing."
"Not to brag, but as an experienced angler, I could imdiately tell whether soone had the makings of a fisherman. Few people can endure an entire day without a catch, yet he could sit next to us and watch us co up empty-handed all afternoon."
"So I asked Mosquito to make a fishing rod for and warned him not to add any unnecessary features to it, then I gave it to the old man."
"The old man was delighted, thanked profusely, and even tried to give a silver coin. When I refused to accept it, he gave a dagger the next day. At first, I thought it was a quest item and was quite thrilled, but I later realized it was just an ordinary gift. Nevertheless, the unique feeling was still very interesting."
"I later taught him how to swing the rod, how to bait the hook, and how to make simple traps with bottles to catch leech larvae as fish bait. Sotis, we would take the fish to the storage or the market to sell; other tis, we would grill and eat them."
"I was like Robinson Crusoe, knowing a bit of everything. And he was like Friday, not very bright, but eager to learn, and curious about everything we did."
"Occasionally, I would vent to him, complaining about real-life troubles, and he would talk about his things—maybe adventures, possibly what he wanted to do in the future, or sothing else."
"Even though we couldn’t understand what the other was saying, surprisingly, it didn’t hinder our communication. From him, I also learned quite a few interesting words, so of which I still don’t know the anings of even today."
"But... everything ca to an abrupt stop this morning."
"A solemn line of guards at the north gate of Changjiu Farm fired three shots into the sky. I saw a young man lift his body onto a truck, watched as they took him away to be cremated, and then saw his ashes carried to the lake, half scattered on the shore and half sprinkled into the water."
"Perhaps that was his last wish."
"At that mont, I suddenly felt that those NPCs were like living people, not just cold bits of code."
"I had never thought that one day I would beco friends with a character in the ga, nor had I thought that an unexpected departure could make so sad."
"For a mont, I wished that it had been who died that night."
"In mory of a fishing buddy who will never return."
"Even though I never learned his na, I will rember the stories about him, even if I’m the only one who does."
The post was lengthy.
The thread had grown very tall.
Chu Guang seldom saw Night Ten post on the forum; he just occasionally ca across his replies in so threads.
But this ti, he wrote a lot.
Including the follow-up replies, he recounted mories of the old man from a friend’s perspective, including so amusing incidents that happened while fishing.
Though they weren’t tales of grandeur, just simple, unadorned events, those words felt alive.
Makabazi: "Pat, pat, the fisherman..."
Tail: "Hmm."
Si Si: "Sorry, I couldn’t save your friend."
WC Real Mosquito: "It’s tough, if only NPCs could be resurrected."
Wild Wind: "Yes, but on the other hand, maybe it’s precisely because NPC lives happen only once that we feel the world inside the ga is so incredibly real. What we create is not rely a aningless string of numbers, but sothing endowed with a soul."
Night Ten: "Sigh, I know, but it still feels suffocating..."
Old White: "This ga is always too real in unnecessary places."
Fang Chang: "It’s very much like life, unpredictable."
Teng Teng: "Sigh..."
Crow: "Hmm, it hurts. (>﹏
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