Just as everyone was pondering the safety of logging off, Robert couldn't help but interject, "Um... game dev Terrabyte. After we log off, can you give our characters a simple AI? After all, everyone has things to do in real life.
If we go out for a meal and come back to find that the character we painstakingly trained for so long is gone, that would be too frustrating. Looking at the game's background story, on the current Perditia, there probably isn't any absolutely safe place to log off..."
Robert's words sparked a thought in Terrabyte.
Instantly, his thoughts no longer focused on the tiny player souls before him, but drifted to a deeper level, settling on the first weapon he had personally created, Xeno exterminator.
In fact, it was never just a simple master-crafted chainsword. It was Terrabyte, as the God of Information, using his authority for offensive creation for the first time.
That chainsword was, in essence, a conceptual weapon.
Its lethality did not stem from common applied physics or biological principles—such as the rotation speed of the saw teeth, the hardness of the material, or the efficiency of tearing flesh. The reason it could cut through those cultists who had abandoned their human identity like slicing melons and dicing vegetables was because, from the moment it was created, it was imbued with the core concept of "causing immense damage to non-human entities." The chainsword was merely a manifestation of this concept in the material world.
However, what even Terrabyte himself hadn't expected was that after this sword was used by Robert, it would naturally give birth to a vague consciousness. This consciousness was inherently filled with hatred for xenos and a desire for slaughter. This pure will, in turn, further strengthened the already powerful concept. The Adeptus Mechanicus might simply classify it as a "machine spirit," but Terrabyte, who understood its essence, clearly did not think so.
A bold idea flashed in Terrabyte's mind.
What if he tried to imbue these players with a core concept? For example, the concept of Player itself.
No. Terrabyte instantly thought deeper. He didn't need to bestow this concept; at the moment he made the decision to "summon players," at the instant these souls from another world responded to the call and descended here, the brand new concept of Player had already been born.
In the projections of the warp, there might already be a vague reflection belonging to "players," he just hadn't noticed it before... Concept... Concept... An action that was initially just a whim led him to a new, subversive understanding of his authority as the God of Information.
Terrabyte became increasingly glad of his decision to summon players. If he were to continue wandering alone and empty-handed in that boundless warp, even after another ten thousand years, such precious inspiration would not have erupted.
Terrabyte naturally held no ill will towards these players who had unintentionally brought great inspiration to his research. He pulled his thoughts back to the present and, facing the expectant gazes of the crowd, he replied, "This is not a simple task, and I cannot give you a definitive answer right now."
After truly realizing what he was doing, Terrabyte decided to be extremely cautious with this matter. This was by no means something that could be solved by simply attaching a simple AI script to each logged-off player's body; it involved the definition and shaping of a nascent concept, and even a slight misstep could lead to unpredictable consequences.
Upon hearing this vague answer, the players' faces showed disappointment. It seemed that logging off in the future would indeed require more thought. The best method might be to form fixed teams, take turns logging on for vigilance, and take turns logging off to rest.
This would undoubtedly further reduce the game's appeal to casual and moderate players with irregular schedules.
While Terrabyte and the players were engaged in this cross-dimensional Q&A, on distant Earth, in a chat group named "Dr. Dixy Normous's Official Live Stream," the atmosphere was somewhat unusual.
Fishing Pioneer: "Strange, why hasn't Bobby said anything all day today? Has he been lurking all day?"
Has It Updated Today: "Yeah, usually by this time he'd be actively chatting. Today he's as quiet as a fake account."
I Will Always Love Bobby: "I can understand why the videos haven't updated, after all, rushing him is useless. But not showing up in the group for a day, that's definitely not normal! I've searched all his social platforms, and his last post was yesterday's 'Got into the closed beta for that new Warhammer game, gonna check it out.' Is that game really that fun?"
The fans in the group were discussing animatedly. For Robert, a game VR host known for his approachability and high-intensity interaction, not updating a video for a day was normal, but not saying a word in the core fan group for a day was absolutely unprecedented.
Meanwhile, on the other side, Robert himself, who was being hotly debated by his fans, finally felt the sense of detachment return after the Q&A session ended. The kaleidoscope of colors before his eyes rapidly faded, his consciousness plummeted like a kite with a broken string, and finally "installed" itself steadily back into his familiar body.
"Click."
The game pod's hatch automatically sprang open, and soft indoor light shone in. Robert sat up somewhat sluggishly and climbed out of the game pod.
The moment his feet touched the ground, a strong sense of abnormality swept through his entire body.
His limbs... so weak.
He tried to take two steps, feeling as if he was carrying a hundred-pound burden, each step heavy and sluggish. He took a deep breath, but his chest felt like a broken bellows, his lungs working pitifully inefficiently, far from the ease he felt in the "game."
He quickly realized—this was a side effect of the game being too realistic.
Although an ordinary Astra Militarum Soldier was insignificant in the brutal warhammer universe, a mere cannon fodder existence, his rigorously trained physical fitness, compared to his own body as a standard 21st-century, underexercised "couch potato," was simply superhuman in every aspect. After getting used to the strength and stamina of that body, returning to his own physical form, the contrast was so strong that he found it difficult to adapt for a while.
"Hiss... This game is really something else." Robert once again marveled at the extreme realism, then didn't forget his duty as a game VR host.
He shook his head, forcing himself to adapt to this "weak" body, and quickly went to his desk to turn on his computer.
The short three days spent on the planet named Perditia had given him an unprecedented, almost overflowing, amount of inspiration for video production. From the hive city air that gave them a rude awakening upon arrival, to the first bloody battle against cultists, and then to the conversation with game dev "Terrabyte," every segment was epic material.
He had to immediately and quickly record these inspirations and memories and organize them into a script.
Robert had an incredibly strong premonition that the video he was about to produce would definitely go viral on the internet!