I, the prince in distress, send money

Chapter 488 What's it to me?
"Oh, something's happened?"

Chris learned about the conflict at the Casarina Island docks from a player's forum. Looking at the smug comments in the posts, he didn't know what to say.

To be honest, when the first advance team went to Casarina Island, Chris knew that the new players would cause trouble, but he didn't expect them to cause such a big problem.

The reason is simple: players are never pushovers, whether they are new or old players. The only difference is that old players tend to be more restrained and will retaliate appropriately when they encounter something unpleasant, without easily causing casualties.

Because when someone dies, reputation points will be deducted.

New players, on the other hand, have no such concerns. They are unrestrained, have no reverence for the "realism" of this world, and don't have the "reputation points" that veteran players painstakingly build up to bring real benefits that they need to maintain.

For them, it's more like an absolutely "free" sandbox, where all NPCs are just higher-level monsters or items, and the only rule is "I can do whatever I want."

Chris rubbed his temples, looking at the posts on the forum with a headache.

The post was filled with comments like "This is awesome!", "I got some loot!", "How dare the NPCs be so arrogant?", and "I'll kill them all next time!", exuding a carefree and unrestrained atmosphere of revelry.

The players who went to Casarina Island were actually selected through several rounds of screening; they were no longer troublemakers and had some gaming ethics.

Unexpectedly, something still happened even so.

what happened?

Chris frowned, instinctively feeling that the player's anger had come on a bit too fast and too intensely.

He closed those boasting posts, tapped his fingers a few times on the smooth desktop, and then began to "dive" deeper into the sea of ​​forums, specifically looking for those complaint posts and rants, trying to piece together the whole story from the players' curses.

Soon, he unearthed a large number of posts filled with negative energy hidden under the theme of carnival, and the style suddenly changed.

Is this wrecked boat even fit for a human? Ten days, a full ten days! I feel like a salted fish being pickled in a swill bucket...
Can anyone tell me why my pale ale tastes like rust and rags? Is the Mácsón Union really that poor? They've probably added way too much water.
"Damn it, Bagnia is so much more comfortable. Even in boot camp, I had meat and vegetables every meal. Now I'm eating moldy hard biscuits on the ship? Hey planner, come out here, let's have a chat!"
+Real-name report: The game experience was terrible! The smell in the hold... ugh... I feel like throwing up whenever I smell seafood now!
These posts, previously buried in the excited discussions following the conflict, are now like pieces of a puzzle, gradually piecing together the true trigger for the incident before Chris's eyes...

The ten-day voyage was like an extreme stress test.

The sailing merchant ship's extremely harsh environment—crowded, filthy, rocking, noisy, and with terrible food—is constantly eroding the player's patience and sanity.

They were like people trapped in a mobile, unsanitary confinement room, with nowhere to escape and nothing to do but endure it.

The contrast with the recruit camp further exacerbated this psychological gap.

Although the training in the recruit camp is tough, at least the food and lodging are basically guaranteed. The trainers are also players, and although they sometimes curse and swear, they do so with restraint. When the players are shooting and firing cannons, it's still quite enjoyable, so it's a mix of hardship and sweetness.

The voyage itself is purely a matter of "enduring," a drain on resources, and "garbage time" with absolutely no gaming experience.

The fatigue, irritability, nausea, and strong dissatisfaction with the poor logistics provided by the Macon Alliance accumulated over the past ten days had already made every player seethe with anger.

Their already limited rationality and sense of morality have been worn down to a critical point during this long period of torment.

At this moment, these players were essentially a group of walking, extremely unstable powder kegs. And the dockworkers' smug, full of superiority and contempt, was like a cigarette butt thrown with pinpoint accuracy, sparks flying everywhere.

It didn't ignite the anger of a single player, but rather the anger of a thousand players who had been holding back for ten days and desperately needed an outlet to vent their frustration!

"I see……"

Chris leaned back in his chair and let out a long sigh; his previous judgment needed to be revised.

This is not just a problem of new players lacking constraints, but an inevitable result of a systemic failure in logistical support and environmental pressures.

The Macon Alliance clearly underestimated the conditions required to transport these "special soldiers," or rather, they simply didn't care about the mercenaries' comfort.

While the players' chaotic nature certainly played a role in their riot, the Macon Alliance's poor management and inadequate treatment were the root causes that escalated the conflict to an uncontrollable level.

"That's fine..."

Chris's gaze sharpened again.

"That's good, it makes the mercenaries of the Kingdom of Bagnia even more valuable."

The squeaky wheel gets the grease, and the best soldiers get the best treatment.

Since your Macon Union's regular army is so useless, don't blame me for raising the price if there are any more contracts.

What about the mercenary players who are far away on Casarina Island?
Serve cold.

None of my business.

Chris, gloating, couldn't care less about such things. He arranged for a few veteran players to represent the player group at crucial moments and restrain the behavior of these new players. As a result, the Makon Alliance seemed to have bad luck.

These veteran sailors either fell into the sea while using the toilet during their voyage, or they were killed or injured by the ship's rocking while crossing a storm belt.

When the conflict broke out at the dock, the two remaining veteran players were powerless to stop it, and they even got involved... The harsh conditions on the transport ship also fueled their anger.

Oh, from this perspective, it's no wonder that the people of the Macon Alliance were attacked by the players.

Chris didn't know if things could be resolved after the bloodshed. He'd have to see if there were any smart people in the Macon League on the island. If not, so be it. If there were, then he'd have to find a way to appease the players' anger.

If things can't be resolved, then the mixed teams of new and old players won't need to go out to sea, so as not to make the situation on Casarina Island even more chaotic.

Since the Neama era, Chris has always acted in accordance with the players' nature, never confronting them directly, and never getting angry even when they did things they shouldn't have.

Otherwise, the players wouldn't be polite to Chris either. Casually causing trouble is a minor matter; the real fear is that they might even harbor murderous intent towards Chris.

(End of this chapter)