The shocking scene of Mua'dib turning into dust didn't last too long among the players. After all, in this game, "death" was a common occurrence; it was just that this time's "death effect" was exceptionally gorgeous and cool.
After a brief gasp of surprise, the atmosphere in the factory area quickly returned to its previous joyous state. Although the lottery this time produced all sorts of strange things, most players were very satisfied with what they received.
"The game dev truly put his heart into it; he actually made a hundred completely unique items for me to draw as prizes," one player exclaimed.
"Yes, which game on the market now has such sincerity?" his companion next to him echoed.
"Forget about triple A games, this is a 5 A game!"
Most players were immersed in the joy of "unboxing" and didn't seem to notice that Mua'dib, who had exited in the most spectacular way, hadn't reappeared after so long. The few players who did notice this, such as Robert, only subconsciously assumed that he probably had something urgent in real life and had temporarily logged off, not paying too much attention.
At this very moment, on Earth... "What the hell, why can't I log in?!"
Paul Atreides, who was Mua'dib in the game, suddenly sat up from his gaming pod, frantically scratching his hair with both hands.
The reason for his frenzy was exactly what he had just said. After casting the divine skill Hell Fire that he had drawn, Paul's character immediately died. If it was just death, that wouldn't be a big deal; resurrection was only a matter of seconds.
The key was that after dying, he was directly kicked out of the game by the system! Paul was dumbfounded on the spot and hurriedly tried to log in again, only to find that the system kept prompting "Information error! Character data not found," and he couldn't log in at all. He tried several times in a row, and all he got was this cold message.
Could it be a game bug? Paul quickly thought of this, after all, this was a game that had just appeared in the eyes of the world and had shown high technical capabilities beyond this era. It would be strange if there were no bugs!
So, he quickly wrote a detailed post about the incident and published it on the official forum.
"Help! The game seems to have a bug, I inexplicably can't log in!"
As soon as the post was published, its attention and comment count began to skyrocket. Just the title alone was eye-catching enough, not to mention that next to the ID of the person who posted it was a shining first closed beta honor badge.
Although the number of comments kept rising and Paul kept refreshing for updates, there weren't many constructive suggestions under the post. To put it bluntly, most of the people on the forum now were eager cloud players, and asking them to provide useful suggestions for in-game bugs was simply too difficult.
Soon, Paul's post attracted the attention of other closed beta players, and "comrades" gradually started leaving messages under his post. However, most of them were gloating and teasing.
"Mua'dib, you died so miserably! Hahahaha, you even turned into ash!"
"Man, rest assured, I'll use your equipment for you, and I'll collect your severance pay for you!"
"Is this the price of being lucky?"
When he saw that even the great Robert had left a message under his post saying, "It's okay, Mua'dib, don't worry, there's a high probability there won't be any battles soon," which in reality meant "Man, I can't do anything either," Paul's heart sank, and he began to feel a little anxious.
Just then, a small red dot popped up on the forum's private message icon.
This surprised Paul for a moment—hadn't he set it so that non-friends couldn't send private messages? His only friend was Robert, who had just commented on his post, so why would he send a private message?
But he quickly realized that this wasn't the icon for a regular private message. He quickly clicked into the private message, only to see that the sender's Name was Terrabyte, and there was a gleaming official verification badge after his Name! Paul rubbed his eyes to confirm, and the badge clearly read "game dev"!
Terrabyte: Your problem is very complex, and I'm currently researching it.
Seeing this message, Paul felt like he had grabbed a lifeline and quickly typed a reply.
Mua'dib: Great one! Game dev! Can you explain in detail what the problem is?
Terrabyte: The existence of every player relies on a piece of "core information." Whether it's survival or death, it's just different states presented by this core information; it's simply a change in some parameters, but the core information itself still exists.
Terrabyte: But your death was not a state change of the "core information" from "survival" to "death"; instead... the entire piece of core information was directly deleted, or rather, consumed.
Paul stared at the text on the screen, completely bewildered.
Mua'dib: Great one, are you saying the reason I can't log in is because of the Hell Fire I cast? But isn't that a skill you designed?
Terrabyte: Yes.
Terrabyte: I did design the skill, but the information construct of the entire Warhammer world has nothing to do with me. However, the reaction that occurred when the two met was truly far beyond my expectations. I will dedicate computing power to this; it's a very interesting subject. Your core information is also being reconstructed. Don't worry, I will construct an identical information core as before; your attribute limits and race will not change.
Paul's mouth twitched as he looked at the scientific enthusiasm, like someone discovering a new toy, revealed between the lines of the other party's words.
Mua'dib: ...Great one, I mainly want to know when I can get back online.
Terrabyte: Since this is the first time I've encountered such a situation, I can't be sure, but based on preliminary calculations, it will probably take 8 to 12 hours.
Paul, behind the screen, wore an expression of utter despair. He slumped back in his chair, muttering, "Then I'd better not use that skill again in the future..."
Suddenly, he thought of something, sat up straight again, and typed a line in the chat box.
Mua'dib: Oh, and great one, can I post this conversation? To let everyone know the situation too.
Terrabyte: As you wish.
After getting the game dev's permission, Paul's spirits lifted, and he quickly posted a new thread on the forum.
"Update! I've contacted the official!"
He briefly explained the situation in the main post, then pasted screenshots of his conversation with game dev Terrabyte, completely unedited, not changing a single word.
The moment the post went live, the entire official forum erupted once again. If the previous bug help post had only attracted attention, then this post was like a depth charge, directly detonating all the lurking, lurking, cloud, and online players.
"Holy crap! Holy crap! It can be like this?!"
"So this is what 'consumes everything you have' means! I used to think it was just deducting HP or MP or something, but it actually consumes the entire account!"
"Account deletion skill? Holy cow, this skill is too hardcore!"
"Awesome, Mua'dib, you can even pull off this kind of move. You've really opened my eyes."
"The game dev is pretty awesome too. 'This is a very interesting subject.' Look, is that even something a human would say? I can feel the ecstasy of a researcher!"
"My heart aches for Mua'dib. The price of being an 'Ouhuang' is an 8-12 hour account deletion, hahahaha, I'm sorry, I really can't help it."
"So, are all one hundred items in that prize pool such bizarre things of this level? What exactly did the game dev put in there?!"
Looking at the players' diverse replies, Paul, in front of the screen, smiled helplessly. Although being forced offline was frustrating, seeing the carnival stirred up on the forum because of him seemed to dilute much of his displeasure.
He closed the lively post, slumped in his chair, and stared at the ceiling.
How was he going to spend these eight to twelve hours? Sleep? He had just gotten out of the gaming pod and was wide awake. Try other forms of entertainment? His mind was filled with images of the game; he couldn't settle down at all.
Suddenly, he thought of something, slapped his thigh, and sat up from the chair.
Hadn't he promised Robert and other players in the game before that he would write a Experience Post about "suicide trucks"? He had been interrupted by the lottery at the time, but now he had plenty of time, so he might as well fill that gap.
As soon as he thought of it, Paul's spirits lifted. He rubbed his hands together, created a new document, and titled it — "The Art of 'Self-Destruction' — From Novice to the Grave."
It would be perfect for passing the long hours of "character reconstruction."