Tokyo: The Player Behind the Scenes.

Chapter 366, Section 113: Attached Assessment
[New games updated monthly]

[Empire Salvation (Role-playing, Resource Management): I swear by the honor of a knight and my sword, I will return here to live on with you and this city. @#￥#]

The garbled text swallowed the second half of the oath, the brightness of the screen suddenly increased, then the text was crossed out, and a new line of text appeared.

[—A game type-specific card has been detected. We are forcibly changing the game type and optimizing the game experience.]

[Changes complete]

[1453: Constantinople /*Note 1* (Real-time Strategy, Resource Management): The country fell, the king died.]

[Size: Medium]

[Difficulty: Difficult]

[Additional number of supported players: 3]

In 1451, Mehmed II became Sultan of the Ottoman Empire. He was determined to conquer Constantinople and completely destroy the Eastern Roman Empire. At this time, the Eastern Roman Empire's territory and strength had been severely shrunk, leaving it almost only Constantinople and its surrounding areas. Its finances were exhausted, and its military strength was weak.

In 1453, the Ottoman Empire's army of 100,000 men pressed in. In the game, you will play as Constantine XI, defending a besieged city alone. Command your last remaining loyal troops and hold out against the Ottoman siege for as long as possible—even if the outcome is already predetermined.

[This game includes an assessment; players who achieve an excellent ending or higher upon first completion will automatically be promoted to veteran player.]

[Perks for Veteran Players: Daily play limit increased by 1, lifespan loss per death slightly reduced (4 deaths = 1 year), and a Veteran Player Badge (randomly teleports you to an absolutely safe location; cooldown: 1 month)]

There are also qualifying matches, but they have nothing to do with Shin Higashiyama.

At this moment, his brows were slightly furrowed. He leaned forward and read the background summary twice more, looking somewhat dissatisfied.

So that's what real-time strategy is.
What he wanted was a base-based combat game like StarCraft or Red Alert—a game where both sides build from scratch, competing in resources, micro-management, and strategy.

Judging from the description, this game seems to be more similar to the gameplay of Fortress, with a greater emphasis on defense and resource management.

"At least it's a real-time strategy game." Shin Higashiyama had no complaints.

He didn't waste any more time and, as usual, began setting up the rewards.

First, set up the Holy Spring Water as the entry reward, and then add the ranking rewards.
Practice makes perfect. It didn't even take a minute to finish all of this. Then, I opened the character selection screen.

"Give the UK a spot first, Wallace? He's got an 80? Not bad."

Given the dire situation in London, Shin Higashiyama had already given a player from the UK a spot in the previous round of the game.

Upon refreshing, a player with a score of 80 appeared, which is quite high for the difficult difficulty level.

"Then, this game's setting is in Constantinople, but it's about the Eastern Roman Empire. What does that have to do with Istanbul in Turkey? No way."

"India? It doesn't matter, let's skip it for now."

Now that he has more countries to choose from, Shin Higashiyama is finding it a bit difficult.

His gaze swept across the map, eventually settling on Russia and Germany.

In the current real-world landscape, Aramco still holds a dominant position.

Shinichi Higashiyama wasn't particularly interested in changing this situation, but he didn't mind seeing the rise of multipolarity either; it was just a side effect anyway.

"Fine, give one to Russia and one to Germany."

After refreshing the player list several times, the highest score among the Russians was only 70, and it belonged to a woman named Yelena.

Wolf Schwarz, Germany.

"Eighty-eight points? Was Constantine XI himself reincarnated?" Looking at this player's rating, Shinichi Higashiyama clicked his tongue in amazement.

I thought that getting 80 points on this difficult level was already invincible, but I didn't expect there were still experts.

This was a pleasant surprise for him. Even if players with this score couldn't achieve a perfect first playthrough, they should at least have a good first playthrough ending.

It was afternoon in Europe at the time, and after sending invitations to the three players, they all accepted almost instantly.

The British player named Wallace jumped into the game on the spot, which shows he's an impatient person.

Since the official ending has not been completed, none of these three players are considered official players. Shin Higashiyama can only sense where they are, but cannot sense their actual situation.

Otherwise, he would have known that Wallace wasn't impulsive; he was just stunned.

In contrast, the following matter is more important to him.

"It seems like players are starting to take the points-based game less seriously lately," Shinichi Higashiyama mused, stroking his chin. "That's not good; we need to correct that."

He had already explained the reasons, which were simply that the reward for the points game was only one, and the points awarded were not many. When players had other things to do in real life, they would have to make certain choices.

More importantly, they are now much better off financially.

Indeed, players shouldn't have too many points, otherwise they'll become lazy.

If you slack off in the points game today, you'll dare to slack off in the regular game tomorrow!
He has developed a set of tactics for this purpose.

He took out a pill bottle, uncorked it, and a refreshing fragrance wafted out. Inside the bottle lay a pill the size of a longan, milky white in color with a faint golden glow on its surface, as if it were alive and pulsating slightly.

Anatomy of Britain offered excellent rewards to all players, including him, and this was the reward he received.

Stealing Heaven and Repairing Perfection Pill: A miracle pill. It can revive even a wisp of a soul or a single hair cell, but it is limited to ordinary people whose physical lifespan has not yet ended.

A few days later, he took the pills and some other odds and ends to Ueda and put him in the player lobby as a mysterious merchant, selling rare items.

Priced at 3,000 points.

Who can guarantee that nothing bad will happen to the people around them? And among the players, there are many who want to resurrect their loved ones—Iwasaki's sister, Park Min-woo's father, Arthur's wife and son.
The purpose of this pill is to give these people an undeniable target.

Want to revive someone who longs to be by your side? Then work hard to earn points, don't let any point slip by!

"Don't let any American citizen escape! Charge, my brave warriors! Whoosh—boom! Damn it, the Americans have intervened! They're all in cahoots! But I can still operate it! Machine gunner, move five millimeters to the left—"

The curtains in the small room were drawn tightly shut, leaving only a dim, yellowish lamp casting a warm glow on the floor. Under that light, a fierce battle was unfolding.

The green plastic soldiers were laid out in battle formation. Some lay prone behind the high ground built of thick dictionaries, while others hid next to eraser tanks. The sharpened end of their pencils was pointed at the enemy positions, which were the missiles that Wolf had mentioned.

He knelt on the floor, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing his thin wrists, and his hands moved quickly around the soldiers: "Left flank squad, flank around, don't get targeted by Amei's heavy firepower!"

As soon as he finished speaking, he grabbed a paperclip and threw it at the pile of toys opposite him, mimicking an explosion. With a sweep of his hand, a bunch of plastic soldiers fell down.

The two sides fought back and forth under the control of a single pair of hands, creating quite a spectacle.

"Wolf! Didn't you hear me tell you to pack your things?! We're moving tomorrow, and I'm throwing away everything you haven't packed!"

The woman's roar slammed against the door like thunder, shaking the landscape paintings hanging on the wall. The frames collided with the wall, making a soft clicking sound.

Wolf's body stiffened abruptly, the smile on his face vanished instantly, he quickly withdrew his hand, his shoulders instinctively pulled back, and his heart pounded. "I-I understand, Aunt Mary." His voice was weak, trembling slightly, and he dared not utter the slightest rebuttal.

Wolf's enthusiasm immediately waned. He quickly took out a box and tidied up the position he had painstakingly set up.

Slightly worn books were also placed in other boxes.

On War, The Army's Practical Guide to Combat, Illustrated Encyclopedia of Weapons, and A General History of the World.
After finally finishing packing everything, the thin man was exhausted and covered in sweat.

He wiped his sweat, stood up, and stared blankly at the room he had lived in for less than half a year.

"Huh? What is this?"

Only then did he realize that a small, persistent box had appeared in his field of vision at some point.

It's like a mark on his retina; it won't fade or be obstructed, no matter where he looks, he can see it even with his eyes closed.

The box contains the following text: "Please enter a nickname. The nickname must be selected from either your first or last name."

He thought for a moment and finally remembered.

It seems that during his "battle," a selection box inexplicably appeared.

His inner thoughts were always very rich, sometimes so blurred that he couldn't distinguish between reality and fantasy. So he habitually treated it as just another fantasy of his own and casually chose to accept it. Then, as the battle intensified, he stopped paying attention.

"So, this is true?" Wolf's expression brightened, and a multitude of thoughts flashed through his mind.

He silently repeated to himself, "Nickname, Wolf."

This is a fairly common surname, meaning wolf. However, his "Wolf" is his first name, not his surname.

The next second, the text in the box changed: [Nickname "Wolf" has been confirmed. Player Wolf can now enter the game "1453: Constantinople". Enter now?]

“Constantinople in 1453.” Wolf’s eyes lit up even more.

He had read this history in "A General History of the World": the isolated city of the Eastern Roman Empire, besieged by 100,000 Ottoman troops, with corpses piled up at the foot of the city walls, and the king dying on the battlefield.

That was an era of guns and bloodshed, one of the scenes he most longed for in his war fantasies.

Just as he was about to choose "yes" in his mind, the door was pushed open.

Aunt Mary stood in the doorway with a frown, hands on her hips, her apron still covered in flour.

Seeing that Wolf had already tidied the room but was standing still, her brows furrowed even more: "Damn it, you've already tidied up, why don't you come out and help? Don't you know I still have to take care of Tommy and cook?"

Wolf lowered his head even further, his chin almost touching his chest, and dared not look Mary in the eye: "I'm sorry, I'll go right away."

He tried to walk around Mary, but she stood in the doorway, leaning slightly forward, blocking his way. He stopped, his fingers unconsciously gripping the hem of his clothes. He was afraid of Mary, afraid of her roar, afraid of the impatient look in her eyes.

“You’re not a little kid anymore, Wolf,” Mary raised her voice. “Don’t wait for us to call you for everything! You should help out on your own. Look at Bill next door, he delivers goods to his family every day after school, making things so much easier for his parents!”

"Yes," Wolf's voice was even softer.

The woman nodded in satisfaction and turned to leave.

Wolf followed her out the door. The living room was a mess, with cardboard boxes piled up in the corner, stuffed with clothes and other odds and ends.

Uncle Tom was squatting on the ground tidying up his tools. When he saw Wolf come in, he just looked up briefly, said, "Put those clothes in the box," and then looked down again to continue fiddling with the wrench in his hand.

Wolf nodded, walked to the sofa, and began to tidy his clothes.

The TV, which had been on the whole time, was playing the news. It seemed that another black rain had fallen in Japan, and a German citizen had died. Then it switched to the next news item.

"Large-scale riots broke out in Jerusalem today, with clashes between protesters from both sides, resulting in more than ten injuries."

Wolf suddenly stopped moving, and the clothes in his hand fell silently to the ground.

His parents were staff members of the International Red Cross. Eight years ago, they went to Jerusalem on a humanitarian relief mission but disappeared and never returned.

He still remembers that day when his parents and colleagues came to his door, hugged him and cried, but he felt his mind was blank and he couldn't even shed a tear.

They brought him back a photo of parents holding a child whose identity he didn't know, with the separation wall in Jerusalem in the background.

"Wolf?" Tom's voice broke his reverie.

Wolfe then snapped out of his daze and realized he was staring blankly at the television screen.

He hurriedly picked up his clothes, his face showing a flustered expression, like a child who had done something wrong: "I'm sorry, Uncle Tom, I was distracted."

Tom didn't say much, he just picked up the remote, changed the channel to one that was showing cartoons, and colorful cartoon characters appeared on the screen, with cheerful music replacing the seriousness of the news.

He stood up, walked over to Wolf, reached out and gently patted Wolf's shoulder: "It's okay, take your time."

He didn't know how to respond, so he just lowered his head and whispered "thank you".

Dinner time arrived quickly, and as always, it was simple: bread, broccoli, fried eggs, and a bowl of vegetable soup.

Tommy, Mary and Tom's child, sat in his high chair, holding a teething toy and babbling.

Mary sat beside the baby chair, feeding Tommy baby food, her face full of tenderness.

"Wolf, come and eat," Tom said, pointing to the seat across the table.

Wolf walked over, sat down halfway on the chair, picked up the bread, and nibbled on it in small bites without saying a word.

The only sounds in the living room were Tommy's barking and Mary's coaxing. Tom would occasionally chat with Mary about moving the next day.

He looked up and stole a glance at Mary feeding Tommy: Mary blew on the food to cool it down, carefully put it into Tommy's mouth, and said with a smile, "Our Tommy is so good."

Dinner ended quickly, and Wolf took the initiative to clear the table and wash the plates.

By the time he finished tidying up the kitchen, Tom and Mary were already getting ready to give Tommy a bath. He didn't disturb them, but quietly packed the remaining odds and ends into cardboard boxes. By the time everything was packed up, it was already completely dark outside.

"Go and get some rest. You have to get up early tomorrow," Mary said as she came out of the bathroom and saw Wolf still getting ready.

Wolf nodded and turned to go back to his room.

He lay down on the bed, staring at the cracks in the ceiling. The more he looked at them, the more they resembled the separation wall in Jerusalem. What was happening there right now? He remained lost in thought for a long time.

No, he still has games he hasn't played.

"Enter the game," Wolf thought to himself.

The next second, a warm light enveloped him, his consciousness was drawn into a vortex, the faint sounds around him gradually disappeared, and the darkness in front of him was replaced by a bright light.

Then, a scene with a cinematic quality filled the view.

(End of this chapter)