This Game Is Too Realistic

Outside the Central Continent Aerospace Ecological Experimental Base, snow-covered pine trees spread from the edge of the base wall to the abandoned town under the gentle slope.

The buildings there were no more than three stories high, and most of them were single-storied bungalows with garages and swimming pools. Occasionally, one or two unique-looking houses could be seen, probably belonging to researchers at the nearby research base.

However, no matter who it once belonged to, it had been completely abandoned.

Frozen vines crept into every house from their front yards, shrubs grew in the dusty garages, roots of vegetation spread through concrete paths and yard walls, and lush trees filled abandoned corners, and even broke out from roofs of some wooden houses.

Occasional creaking noises could be heard downstairs, either when a Cruncher knocked something over, or a rat...

On the half-collapsed double-story villa roof.

Night Ten, who was lying prone in the snow, took a deep breath, and turned the knob on the sniper scope with his index finger.

The tops of the pine trees on the gentle slope were slightly higher than the outermost roof of the research base.

With his right eye on the sniper scope, he could only barely see the figures near the checkpoint through the gap between the branches of the trees and the snow.

The marauder’s patrol had searched the town once before, but they didn’t search very carefully, so they didn’t find the two people hiding on the roof.

"Can you see them?" Ample Time, lying prone beside the chimney, holding a monocular, said with the closed left eye.

"Mhm, but it’s a bit difficult to hit them."

"Look in your 10:00 direction. Do you see the machine gun near the window on the third floor?"

"I can only see his sandbag and tripod... His head is blocked by a tree branch, but it shouldn’t be a problem to shoot through it."

"Okay, he’ll be yours in a moment. Remember, wait for him to fire first, and shoot an inch above the flame."

"Got it."

Taking his right eye away from the sniper scope, Night Ten took a moment to glance at the VM that was on the back slope of the roof.

When the brightness was turned to the lowest, only a little light could be seen in the opposite direction, so there was no need to worry about their position being exposed.

It was actually very useful.

After calculating the distance from the map, he tapped the screen with his index finger and cut to the mission column.

[Time to Battle: 31 mins 21s]

[Mission: Reach the sniper point (Complete). War Point +10]

[Mission: Mark high threat targets on the VM map (In Progress)]

[Mission: Covering the east offensive squad after the start of the war (Inactive)]

[Violation conditions: Firing and exposing your position before the order is received.

Punishment: All war points will be deducted, and the violator will be banned for 14 days.]

[Violation conditions: 50 war points will be deducted each time for refusing to execute the order, 100 war points will be deducted for the second warning, and the third time...] Ɍ

There were quite a few missions on his VM interface.

Night Ten calculated silently. If he could complete all the branch missions, he could get a total of 270 silver coins and 430 contribution points.

If he was lucky, he may be able to take out a few more NPCs, his reward may be over 400 silver coins.

Wouldn’t this be more exciting than "Cheatingfield V" and "Call Of Hack 6"?

It would be even more perfect if the shooting sound effects of hitting the target could be enhanced.

For example, if they added some shaking effect to the grip when hitting the target.

"… Hang in there, Old White."

"When we save enough money, we’ll buy you new equipment!"

Not far away, a group of players in light-colored hunting suits was advancing toward the experimental base along the ruins at the edge of the town.

The mud smeared on the bayonet hid the cold gleam on the white snow, but it couldn’t hide their murderous aura.

The enemy was right in front of them!

All the eyes hidden in the dark night flickered with excitement, and that high fighting will couldn’t be weakened even by the howling north wind.

A battle was imminent!

...

Meanwhile, at Brown Farm more than 20 kilometers away, sentries with iron-barreled rifles were patrolling the fence made of garbage. Different from the sparse figures in the past, the farmhouse was a little more lively.

Inside a country-style mansion.

There were a dozen or so people sitting in the spacious living room, each with a heavy gloomy expression on their faces, like a dark cloud that could rain at any time.

An old radio was placed on the round wooden table. The noisy electric sound and the host’s glib words were incompatible with the atmosphere in the living room, but they were especially suitable for the occasion.

"This is the Voice of Boulder Town, and I am your dearest radio host, Mr. House. I am now bringing you an update on the situation in the northern suburbs."

"According to unreliable information, a marauder force called the Bonechewer Clan is rising at a place out of our sight. We are not making you worry for nothing, their strength is not weak, at least much stronger than the villains who hide in the ruins and do not dare to come out."

"Those marauders not only absorbed the remnants of the Army, but also took over some of their equipment, and are now recruiting throughout the middle of the River Valley Province... It seems that they intend to establish a kingdom of marauders."

“If they keep advancing south, there is no doubt that none of the hillbillies in the northern suburbs of Clearspring City will survive, and the militia will never waste a bullet on those who haven’t paid their taxes. If you happen to be in the northern suburbs, and don’t want to watch your wife and daughter be kidnapped and sent to the ranch, Boulder Town Voice Radio recommends the Wind From Afar Hotel to you!”

"That’s a super 5-star hotel specially opened for refugees by the generous Mr. Reston. It is located on the edge of the outer wall of Boulder Town. Although it is outside, legally, it also belongs to the territory of Boulder Town, so the militias will not sit back and watch anything happen to that place... You can stay there all day with just one chip."

Hearing the sound on the radio, the people sitting at the round table only responded with silence.

A single chip may be an hour’s salary for citizens living legally in Boulder Town, or a bottle of beer that was mixed with water.

But for them, it would cost 1 kilogram of grain or more valuable garbage to get their hands on a single chip.

Seemingly fed up with this dead silence, a middle-aged man with a strong appearance and a hunter’s hat said slowly. "The Bonechewer Clan is growing, so we should unite! The Morrowind Community is willing to dispatch twenty hunters."

Seeing that someone took the lead, the chubby man who was sitting not far away breathed a sigh of relief, wiped the sweat on his rounded forehead with a towel, and responded. "We can dispatch nine..." Seeing everyone on the table looking at him, he quickly added, "I know this number may not be a lot, but that is all we have!"

"Tsk tsk, did you all hear that? The lucrative Red Train Inn only has nine men," the strong man with a burn scar on his face sneered and said in a mocking tone, "If your men are all dead, we can help you."

There was a trace of annoyance on the chubby man’s face, but being intimidated by the strong man, he just narrowed his eyes into a cold gaze and didn’t dare to say anything.

The Red Train Inn had been receiving merchants from Red River Town to Clearspring City all year-round. Compared with the poor man sitting here, he definitely had more chips in his pocket.

However, in this hellish weather, those chips did not give him much sense of security, and it was not even enough to pay for the militia to visit his place once.

Staring at the ugly scar-faced man, the boss of the inn formed a sinister thought.

Just you wait! When this winter is over, I will invite mercenaries to your place!

The atmosphere in the living room was a little stiff.

Mr. Brown, who was smoking, looked a little annoyed.

Although he knew that these neighbors could not be counted on, he didn’t expect that they were still arguing with each other at this juncture.

It’s really over!

At this time, sitting at the corner of the round table, a thin-faced man who had been silent from the beginning suddenly spoke up. "It’s useless. We are not opponents of those people at all. They are just like locusts... They’re plundering from the middle to the south."

Seeing that everyone including Brown looked at him, the man paused for a moment and continued. "I have a relative who is from Stone Stele Town, about 30 kilometers away from here. He fled to my place a few days ago, saying that hundreds of marauders had invaded his town, and those who resisted were killed on the spot, or hanged at the gate, and the rest were either caught and worked as slaves, or were tortured to the point of death."

"When that happened, he was hiding in the ruins, watching the fire burn in front of him as he pretended to be a corpse. In the end, he was lucky to survive."

The atmosphere in the living room became even stiffer.

As if to ease the atmosphere, a slightly older survivor let out a soft sigh and muttered. "Working as slaves... At least they didn’t weren’t eaten. It seems that these people are still a little civilized."

"I haven’t finished yet... Both the old man and the child were beheaded," the thin man’s Adam’s apple moved slightly and he continued with a numb expression, "They only need able-bodied people and those who are able to have children."

The fire in the fireplace was burning fiercely in the living room, but the air was terribly cold.

"Enough!" Mr. Brown patted the table, the cigarette ash was shaken off from the corner of his mouth and fell beside his boots.

He pinched the half of the cigarette butt, pressed it into the ashtray, glanced at everyone present with a gloomy expression, and slowly continued to speak, "This is our home, and we’ve lived here for generations. Run? Where can we go? There’s no way we can go back. The only way is to fight to the death…"

"It’s just you who have nowhere to go. After all, you have such a big farm." The scar-faced man who had ridiculed the boss of the inn before, exposed his grand-sounding words, and snorted aggressively.

Mr. Brown’s expression froze for a moment before gradually turning livid. He glared at the man and growled, "What do you mean that I have nowhere to go? I can go to Boulder Town with my chips. I’ll be a hundred times more comfortable there than I am now, do you want me to do that?"

"Going to Boulder Town? Like the town mayor of Baker Street?" The Scarface man narrowed his eyes and said with a sneer, "I heard that he’s not having a good time in the last two months... Didn’t you have an agreement with him? Why didn’t you help them when they were attacked by the blue coats?"

Brown’s face darkened.