I, the prince in distress, send money

Chapter 485 Player's Diary
The salty winds of Omdur's port were biting, blowing against the bewildered or anxious faces of the people in the queue.

The long wooden boardwalk leads to a dozen or so towering old-fashioned wooden sailboats. The hulls are weathered by wind and waves, the wooden planks are dark in color, and the sails and cables are tangled like a spider web. They look far less reassuring than the brand-new training facilities in the recruit camp.

Not happy, not playing, he stood in the queue waiting to board the ship, his brand-new green cotton military uniform soaked through by the sea breeze, bringing a chill.

He subconsciously tightened his belt, making his clothes more secure, but his gaze involuntarily drifted back to the gradually blurring outline of the recruit camp in the distance.

A month ago, when he was sent there, he was somewhat dissatisfied, feeling that it was unnecessary for him to undergo training like a new recruit. Now that he was leaving, he felt a strange sense of nostalgia.

He missed the wide, flat shooting range, the recoil of the flintlock pistol, and the choking smell of gunpowder.

I'm not happy about playing here, and I even miss that hard wooden plank bed... at least it was stable, dry, and I didn't have to worry about it sinking to the bottom of the sea the next second.

To be honest, he only just realized he might have seasickness now, and he hasn't even boarded the ship yet. Just looking at the wooden sailboats at the dock makes his legs feel weak.

The month I spent in the recruit camp was an incredibly fulfilling one.

From loading and firing to battlefield first aid, from bayonet fighting to donning armor, Buzhaobuwan absorbed knowledge like dry sponges, absorbing a wealth of information that might not be useful in real life.

"Damn it, finally we're out of this godforsaken place!"

The player in front of him rubbed his hands excitedly, interrupting his thoughts.

"I'm so bored of shooting at wooden targets every day..."

"That's right, that damn instructor! Once I've saved up enough redemption points, the first thing I'll do is come back and train him!"

Another player chimed in, his tone filled with dissatisfaction and resentment over the month of inhuman training.

Complaints spread like wildfire through the ranks. These voices were filled with weariness of the month-long militarized management and uncertainty about the future.

Many players simply cannot tolerate this tedious, arduous, and utterly "fun" process. The forums are already filled with complaints, and every day there are numerous posts announcing "deleting accounts and quitting the game," cursing this damn "newbie tutorial."

I'm not happy, so I'll just listen silently.

He doesn't understand this complaint. Isn't playing hardcore games supposed to make them realistic and easy for people to immerse themselves in?

If you find it boring, why do you want to get a spot in the public beta of this game?

And these people, though they complained, all stayed after a month. On the other hand, those who actually quit the game remained silent and didn't even bother to complain on the game forums.

That's really strange.

Is doing this a necessary part of playing this game, like the squeaky wheel gets the grease?
The line slowly infiltrated forward, getting closer and closer to the creaking boarding planks. The stench of the sea mixed with the smell of rotting wood grew stronger, and the massive ship swayed gently in the waves, casting unsettling shadows.

"I'm not happy, I won't play." He glanced one last time in the direction of the recruit camp, then turned back, took a deep breath of the cold, salty air, and gripped the sling of the flintlock pistol on his shoulder.

The nostalgia is over, the safe training ground is left behind, and ahead lies the swaying deck, the unknown ocean, and the games and activities waiting on Casarina Island.

The days of "fighting and having fun" are beckoning ahead!

……

Day One

Weather: Cloudy, not very windy or wavery, but still very bumpy.

Status: Worse than death.

I was crammed into the hold like a sardine. The air was so murky you could wring water out of it, a nauseating mix of cheap tobacco, sweat, vomit, and rotting wood.

The hammocks below deck were right next to each other, and I felt that if the ship rocked even slightly, there would be a chance to play a game of hammock collisions... Fortunately, sleeping in the game is just a way to log off, so I don't need to sleep in the game.

Not long after setting sail, my stomach began to churn. The breakfast I had eaten in the recruit camp before setting sail had long since been given to the sea. The sounds of vomiting all around me were like a symphony of hell.

I wasn't spared either; I lay on the side of the ship, wishing I could vomit my bile.

It turns out I wasn't just "a little" seasick, I was severely seasick.

An NPC who looked like an old sailor leaned against the side, chewing on tobacco, looking at us cowards, and sneered.

"The sea god has accepted the first offering from the novices."

I was at sea all day today and hardly left. It was the first time I'd ever felt dizzy and weak in a game. It was a novel experience, but also quite uncomfortable.

The next day

Weather: Sunny, with slightly large waves.

Status: Half-dead.

Today I've adapted a little better to life at sea; at least I can stand up on the constantly rocking deck, but my stomach is still protesting against every wave.

I forced the character to eat some rock-hard biscuits and drink some strangely tasted pale beer... Now I know why sailors in Western movies are all alcoholics—their ships only have beer and diluted pale beer, no clean water.

Because water doesn't keep well on a boat, it will spoil, and drinking it will cause diarrhea.

As for the other players, they mostly spend their time lounging in hammocks and don't plan to log back in to experience the feeling of riding an ancient wooden sailboat.
I wandered aimlessly on the deck, occasionally hearing the shouts and footsteps of the sailors. Looking up, I could see a sliver of blue sky in the distance, and looking down, I could admire the unsettling dark green seawater below the ship.

The combat techniques taught by the instructors?
I've forgotten everything. Right now, only one thing is on my mind: don't throw up, and don't fall off the boat.

I just saw a guy on the next ship fall overboard while he was taking a dump at the stern. I don't know if he was a player or an NPC sailor.

Day Three

Weather: Cloudy, much calmer now.

Status: Gradually reverting to human form.

Finally, the waves subsided. Although the boat was still rocking, it was tolerable, and my stomach finally calmed down.

I saw that many players, like myself, dared to go up onto the deck for some fresh air.

The sun was blinding today, and the sea breeze carried a salty smell, but it was a million times better than the hellish air in the hold. The endless sea, after looking at it for a while, could make one feel a little hopeless.

On deck, I saw several sailors wiping their weapons, tidying up ropes, or just leaning against the ship's side in a daze. I tried to chat with them, but to no avail.

Although I could understand what they were saying, and they could understand my Makonese with a Miniese accent, for some reason, our conversations were like chickens and ducks talking—it was exhausting.

Around noon, the sailors I was chatting with gave me their special rations: a salted fish of some kind and an orange.

Although the combination of salted fish and oranges is a bit strange, I finished it.

Once people are full and satisfied, they start to have all sorts of wild thoughts, like, "What is Casarina Island really like?"

Are snake people really as ugly as they appear in videos?

Was flintlock musket actually useful in combat?
Fourth day.

Weather: Unpredictable.

Status: I'm used to it, but I'm so bored I want to log off.

I've gotten used to the ship's rocking, and I can even walk briskly on the deck. Boredom is the biggest enemy. In the lower deck, I saw several players playing a board game with simple wooden pieces of wood, the stakes being the jerky they'd get with their next rations.

I continued chatting with the sailors, describing the sea's unpredictability and turbulence, but they laughed at me, saying I was naive and called it a storm, and that I'd understand in a couple of days.

I don't quite understand what this means.

Seventh day.

Weather: Devastating.

The sky in the distance ahead of the bow was an unsettling leaden gray, as if pressing down on the top of the mast.

The wind howled, whipping up salty spray that lashed my face, and sometimes it would even throw me a small fish, which hurt a little.

The waves were no longer undulating, but had turned into dark, roaring mountains, tossing the wooden boat up and down again and again. The wood beneath my feet groaned in a teeth-grinding manner, and I suspected that the boat was on the verge of falling apart.

Status: Awe of the ocean, and feeling nauseous again.

After I finish writing this entry, I plan to close the diary, wrap it in several layers of oil-paper, and then stuff it into the innermost layer of my clothes, hoping it won't get ruined by the seawater.

The sailors say we're approaching the legendary storm belt, already at its edge.

The storm belt was not a natural phenomenon at all. The seawater underfoot seemed to be boiling, and the sky was as black as the dead of night. Only pale lightning occasionally tore through the sky, illuminating the huge whirlpool and towering waves that looked like the entrance to hell. The deafening thunder and the roar of the waves almost ripped people's eardrums apart.

I was herded back to the lower deck, and even the most experienced sailors wore an unprecedentedly solemn expression.

The ship tilted and swayed wildly, and with each crash of a giant wave, it felt like the ship was about to fall apart. The acrid stench of the sea filled the air again, mixed with people's fear and prayers.

At this moment that seemed like the end of the world, I saw the sea god priest who was usually taciturn and smelled of fish and sea salt. I had thought he was just a rather particular old sailor, but I never expected that this guy was a priest.

While the old man, protected by several strong sailors, struggled to walk up the violently rocking bow deck, I slipped out again.

I saw the wind and rain almost blowing him away. The old man took off his shirt, revealing a bronze-colored, rather well-built upper body covered in strange tattoos. In his hand, he held a uniquely shaped bronze dagger.

The sailors struggled to hold down a sheep that was clearly terrified and bleating pitifully.

Amidst the thunder and lightning, at a terrifying angle where the ship was almost vertical, the priest raised his dagger and chanted in an ancient language I couldn't understand at all, in a hoarse and fanatical tone that overwhelmed the wind and waves.

Then he stabbed the sheep, completely disregarding the feelings and respect he and the other sailors had shown it by stabbing it with other things.

Then, I was discovered, and the sailors sent me back again, locking the cabin door and preventing me from watching the cutscene... The game designers are really stingy, and maybe they saved money by not making the later content.

……

If you're unhappy, close the notebook, take out some oil-paper, wrap it up, and stuff it inside your clothes.

Then, at this moment, he became curious whether other ships had the same thing happen, so he found a hammock, climbed in, wrapped himself up, and forcibly logged off.

Offline, BuShuangBuWan logged into the game forum and posted a thread explaining what he had seen. Soon, other people replied.

"Hey bro, you saw it too? There was an old man slaughtering a sheep on the bow of my boat, but unfortunately I didn't see what happened after that... I fell into the sea."

"There's an older woman dancing over here, she's amazing, she can jump around on the bumpy deck..."

"Haha, our ship is the funniest. The captain held up a rooster by the side of the ship and said that the guidance of the sun god appeared on the rooster."

"On my side, the captain is throwing gold coins and pouring wine into the sea as offerings to Hermes, the god of commerce and messengers..."

Judging from the content of the replies, it seems that each ship is performing different forms of sacrifice. Are these actions really effective?
Driven by this curiosity, I decided to quit playing and log back in.

He regretted it as soon as he went online.

The cargo hold was a complete mess, a hellish scene that far exceeded his expectations before logging off.

The oil lamp had long since gone out, and only the pale flashes of lightning occasionally pierced through the cracks, momentarily illuminating the chaotic cage.

The hammock swung wildly like a mad swing, tangling and colliding, constantly throwing offline players off, making dull thuds.

Barrels, luggage, and even loosely secured equipment cases slid and rolled wildly on the sloping cabin floor, crashing against the cabin walls and people with loud bangs.

Murky seawater had seeped in through the gaps in the hold, mixing with vomit and spilled food scraps, flowing freely across the floor and emitting a nauseating stench.

"Hold on tight, hold on to anything!"

A hoarse voice roared through a gap in the storm, but was quickly drowned out by another huge groan of wood and thunder.

The ship creaked and groaned, as if it were about to fall apart at any moment.

With each crash of a giant wave, the entire ship trembled violently, as if it were being gripped by an invisible giant hand and slammed into the water.

I was so annoyed that I clung tightly to the hammock beneath me, feeling like my internal organs were about to shift from place to place.

He heard people cursing, vomiting, and mostly meaningless screams... The players here were like tourists riding a high-speed roller coaster for the first time; even knowing they wouldn't die, they would still make noise.

A player tried to climb the stairs, but the ship tilted violently, and he rolled down like a bowling ball, crashing heavily into a pile of cargo containers. He fell silent, and it was unclear whether he had fainted or logged off.

"boom!"

A cable that was originally fixed to the ceiling broke, and the heavy wooden crate crashed down, nearly crushing the people huddled together below into a bloody pulp.

"The sea god is angry... there aren't enough offerings..."

In the corner, an NPC sailor huddled up, muttering incoherently to himself, his eyes unfocused.

This kid must be a newbie who's boarding the ship for the first time.

He gritted his teeth and struggled against the overwhelming dizziness and fear, even finding a bit of enjoyment in the process.

However, just as I was finding a way to rock the hammock to make myself more comfortable, the boat was suddenly subjected to an unprecedented, almost vertical, violent impact and lift, as if it had been thrown into the sky and then crashed back into the sea at the speed of free fall!

"boom……"

The immense impact briefly pulled everyone out of contact with the surface. He felt like he was flying, and his hand, which had been gripping the hammock ropes, slipped into thin air.

"Damn it!"

The world is spinning.

The world turned into chaotic noise, blinding lightning, and weightless dizziness.

Feeling annoyed, I felt like I'd bumped into something hard—maybe a bulkhead, or maybe a rolling barrel. A sharp pain shot through my shoulder, and I saw stars.

In his final moments of consciousness, he seemed to hear a heart-stopping cracking sound, far louder than any sound before, like the final lament of the ship's keel.

Then, darkness engulfed everything.

He was flung away like a rag doll, his head hitting something unknown, and he completely lost consciousness.

(End of this chapter)