dmims Chapter 3 Verifying Game Mechanics
Chapter 3 Verifying Game Mechanics
Li En stared at the rearview mirror for ten seconds.
The face in the mirror hadn't changed.
The hair was parted in a 4:7 ratio, with the strands fixed at a backward angle by hairspray, and the temples were neatly exposed.
Her jawline is rather hard, two small shadows are cast below her brow bone, and there are bloodshot eyes indicating she hasn't slept well.
Leon S. Kennedy.
The male protagonist of the Resident Evil series.
The newly reported police officer at the Raccoon City Police Department is on his first day of work today.
The city will disappear from the map after tonight, before sunrise.
He was preparing to consider whether the two options, a second time travel or the multiverse, were more reasonable.
A line of characters appeared in the center of my retina.
The white characters floated silently.
[Instance: Resident Evil 2]
[Number of attempts remaining: 3]
[Rewards: Awarded based on completion rating]
He read those three lines twice.
First, confirm the information content; second, confirm that no field has been omitted.
There are no task objectives, no operation instructions, and no exit button.
Only name, number of times, and rules are specified.
Twelve or thirteen seconds later, the characters disappeared, leaving nothing on the retina.
Li En extended his right index finger and made a horizontal stroke in the air.
"system."
The air was silent.
"Menu, Status, Attributes, Inventory."
With each new word, he slowed down his speech.
Raindrops pounded against the metal roof of the car outside the window, making a dense and rapid sound, and a muffled thud could be faintly heard in the distance.
"Ability Panel"
He tried again in English.
Status, Menu, Inventory.
The light curtain did not reappear.
Li En withdrew her fingers and placed them on her chin.
You can die three times in three attempts.
The dungeon will probably end after you die three times, but the screen doesn't explain how it ends.
The rewards are awarded based on performance, but how that performance is quantified is not specified.
But at least the framework is clear: go in, come out alive, and take what you need.
The corners of the mouth turned upwards; the facial muscles reacted before the conscious thought even began.
This instance is his home turf.
He can't even remember how many times he's played Resident Evil 2.
Maps, monster distribution, resource locations, key items, and boss movement patterns can all be drawn with eyes closed.
Raise your right hand and press your palm against your lips.
No, it's not time to be happy yet.
Two streams of air came out of my nose, warm and moist, and I could feel the moisture in my palms.
He took a breath and slowly exhaled.
When you lower your hand, your facial muscles have returned to their normal position.
He turned to look at the back seat, which was empty, with a broken buckle stuck in the seatbelt slot.
In the glove compartment was a car owner's manual, an unopened box of chewing gum, and a ballpoint pen with bite marks on the cap.
A paper cup stood on the cup holder, with dried coffee stains at the bottom and a dark brown water line on the cup wall.
The fuel gauge needle was close to the left edge of the letter E, and the red warning light was flashing.
He pulled out the car keys and opened the car door.
The air was filled with the sweet smell of evaporating gasoline, mixed with the rain.
Water curtains cascaded down the edge of the gas station's canopy, leaving a thin film of water on the ground.
An old-fashioned gas pump stood next to the car, its outer shell off-white and its surface covered with faded promotional stickers.
The oil gun is hanging on the hook, and the display screen shows zero.
He removed the fuel nozzle, inserted it into the fuel tank opening, and pulled the trigger.
The sound of gasoline flowing through the metal pipe walls came through, a muffled gurgling sound accompanied by the vibration of bubbling bubbles.
Walk to the back of the car and open the trunk.
Several moving boxes were filled with neatly folded clothes—T-shirts, jeans, and several pairs of socks bundled together with rubber bands.
There was no body armor, no spare magazines, and no weapons.
He turned the box upside down and found a flashlight hidden in the sleeve of a sweatshirt.
Push the switch up with your thumb, and the beam of light shines on the inside of the trunk lid. It's white, the bright spot is even, there's no flicker, and it works.
As I ran my right hand across my waist, the Glock's grip was wet from the rain; the anti-slip texture, now filled with water, became even more slippery.
Extend your index finger and press it against the trigger guard, then press down the safety with your thumb.
The magazine was firmly locked in the grip, seventeen rounds, fully loaded.
Hand the flashlight to your left hand.
The beam of light swept across the gas pump, the metal roof, and the wet cement ground in front of the convenience store.
Click.
The sound came from inside the convenience store.
The glass shattered, followed by a dull thud as something hit the ground.
He walked to the entrance of the convenience store. There was blood on the ground, starting from the inside of the threshold and extending into the store along the gaps in the floor tiles.
The bloodstains were dragged, with shoe prints in the middle where the blood had been trampled, and the edges were not yet dry.
The beam of the flashlight cut along the bloodstains, illuminating the checkout counter and the aisles between the shelves.
Li En brought the end of the flashlight to his mouth and bit down with his teeth.
The upper and lower incisors engage with the anti-slip grooves on the aluminum alloy surface, and the lips close.
Hold the doorknob with your left hand and turn it counterclockwise.
He disengaged the latch, took a step back, raised his right foot, pressed his toes against the middle of the door panel, and pushed forward with his knee.
The door rotated a semicircle around its hinge, then slammed its inner side against the edge of the shelf with a dull thud.
The shop was pitch black, with only the beam of a flashlight cutting through.
The beam of light shone on the shelves—the potato chips and canned goods, the coin tray on the checkout counter, and the glass door of the beverage cooler.
Everything is still here.
You can't see anything where the beam of light doesn't reach.
He didn't go in.
He took the flashlight out of his mouth with his left hand and turned it upside down to hold the bulb end.
The tail is exposed, cylindrical, with a ring of anti-slip texture around the edge, and about three centimeters in diameter.
He swung the end of the flashlight and smashed it down on the door.
thump.
The flashlight's tail struck the hollow door panel, and the sound was amplified by the cavity inside the door panel.
The sound drowned out the rain, bouncing repeatedly inside the shop, swinging from shelf to shelf and into the depths of the warehouse.
He raised his gun in his right hand, pointing it towards the door.
The crosshair, the notch, the line of sight passes through the gap between the two and falls within the door frame.
There was no movement.
The beam of light swept across the interior of the store again.
The aisle of the shelves, the space behind the cash register, and the corner next to the beverage counter.
The light spots fall one by one, stay at each position for half a second, and then move away.
It was empty; nothing rushed out.
He approached the door frame.
"help……"
A faint sound emanated from deep within the shop, the airflow carrying the murmur of bursting bubbles as it squeezed through the vocal cords soaked in liquid.
Li En stepped over the threshold, and a beam of light cut a path between the shelves, leading him along the path.
The soles of my shoes sank into the paving stones, my steps neither fast nor slow.
The shelves were stocked with potato chips, biscuits, and canned food. The packaging bags were covered with a thin layer of dust, and several bags had been crushed by something, with fragments scattered on the shelves.
The smell of gasoline from outside was blocked out of the air, replaced by a thicker, sweeter odor.
The smell of rotting flesh and blood mixed together, fermenting for hours in a confined space.
At the end of the shelves, at the warehouse entrance.
A police officer sat leaning against the door frame.
The dark blue uniform, with the Raccoon City Police Department badge pinned above the left breast pocket, was half-soaked in blood.
The left leg is straight, the right leg is bent, and the heel is touching the ground.
He covered his neck with both hands, and dark red liquid seeped out from between his fingers, flowing down his knuckles, down the inside of his forearm, pooling at his wrist, and dripping onto his thigh.
The fabric of the pants on the thighs was soaked through and clung to the skin.
The officer looked up, his eyes rolled upwards at a large angle, with the whites of his eyes taking up two-thirds of his eye sockets.
The mouth is open, and the lips are moving.
"help……"
The following syllables were swallowed by the liquid that came up from the throat.
He removed his right hand from his neck and raised it to point towards the warehouse passageway.
His fingers were pressed together, and his knuckles were covered in blood.
Li En didn't say anything.
He took a roll of tape from the shelf next to him, held the core with his left hand, and pulled the tape end outward with his right hand.
The tape made a sharp hissing sound as it was peeled off the roll, the adhesive layer was torn, and the edges curled up slightly.
He tore off a piece, about twenty centimeters long, and turned to press it against the warehouse door lock.
Apply tape to the seam between the door lock and the door frame, and press your thumb back and forth along the surface of the tape to press the adhesive layer into the grain of the wooden door frame.
I tore off another piece and pasted it across the first piece.
Only after doing all this did he walk into the warehouse passageway.
The passageway is not long, only seven or eight meters.
Cardboard boxes were piled up on both sides, containing beverages, cleaning agents, and disposable tableware, not very neatly arranged.
The beam of the flashlight swept through the gaps between the cardboard boxes, and dust tumbled slowly within the beam.
He walked quickly, his shoes tapping rhythmically on the cement ground.
At the end of the passage was a door.
Push away.
Behind the door is a small cubicle.
A police officer stood with his back to the door.
He gripped the back of a person's neck and waist with both hands, pressing the person's face firmly against the wall.
The person being held down made muffled sounds in their throat, their fingers scratching wildly at the wall, their fingernails scraping off small pieces of plaster.
The police officer heard the door open and turned around.
The beam of the flashlight shone directly into his face.
He squinted, but did not turn his head to avoid the light source.
"Sir! Back off!"
His right hand loosened from the waist of the person being suppressed and reached towards Li En, making a gesture of rejection.
"Leave this to me..."
boom.
Gunshots rang out in the enclosed space.
The narrow walls bounced the sound waves back and forth several times, making the eardrums buzz.
The officer froze, his right hand still suspended in mid-air, maintaining a pushing posture.
His left hand was still pressing on the back of the person's neck, with his five fingers hooked on the cervical vertebrae.
The muzzle flashed across his face and then disappeared.
He raised his right hand and touched his right cheek with his fingers.
His fingertips touched a warm, viscous liquid, carrying a scent he had smelled countless times.
He withdrew his hand, a dark red stain on his fingertips.
Blood mixed with cerebrospinal fluid and tissue fragments stretched into a thin thread on the finger.
The officer's pupils contracted sharply and then dilated rapidly.
He drew his gun with lightning speed; before the holster on his waist had fully popped open, the gun was already in his hand.
The gun was pointed at Lee En.
My hand was shaking, and the muzzle of the gun was swaying from side to side on the aiming line.
"you……"
"Raccoon City Police Department officer."
Li En's index finger had already left the trigger and was resting on the outside of the guard.
Glock was still holding it up, the muzzle slightly tilted upwards.
"Your teammate's neck has been bitten through." He gestured with his chin toward the warehouse passageway.
"His carotid artery was ruptured, and he was losing about 800 milliliters of blood per minute. Judging from the amount of blood seeping from between his fingers, he only had a few minutes left at most."
The officer's gun was still pointed at him.
His index finger tightened and loosened on the trigger several times, his knuckles becoming angular from the force.
"You killed a civilian..." His voice boomed, sharper than the gunshot from before.
Li En moved the flashlight beam away from the police officer's face and focused it on the civilians on the ground.
A large chunk of flesh was missing from the side of his neck. The wound had jagged, torn edges, and the subcutaneous tissue was exposed. The yellow fat layer gleamed greasyly under the beam of light.
On the cheeks, the skin at the cheekbone area is grayish-white, with a network of dark purple blood vessels visible underneath.
The lower left corner of the mouth is missing, revealing the gums. The gums are not pink, but grayish-brown.
The crevices under his fingernails were filled with dirt and some kind of dark debris.
The beam of light rose again, shining on the officer's face.
"Did you see clearly?"
The police officer had just glanced down at the object on the ground following the beam of light.
I only glanced at it.
He holstered his gun and rushed past Li En, his shoulder almost brushing against Li En's.
The sound of footsteps quickly faded into the distance in the warehouse corridor, followed by heavy footsteps as teammates dragged themselves out, their heels scraping rapidly on the concrete floor.
Li En walked to the innermost cubicle.
The key rack was on the wall, a lone key hanging on an iron hook.
He took the key, and next to him on the shelf was a crowbar, a metal rod with one flat, curved end and a sharp end.
He picked up the crowbar and weighed it in his hand; its weight felt just right.
He put the flashlight back into his mouth.
With his left hand, he took the crowbar, and with his right hand, he found the small door next to him, inserted it into the lock, and turned it open.
Push open the door and return to the convenience store.
In the direction of the warehouse passageway entrance, the police officer who rushed out to save his teammates was kneeling in the middle of the passageway.
Knees on the ground, upper body swaying back and forth.
His teammate, the officer who was clutching his neck, was crawling forward in the aisle, gripping the cracks in the floor tiles with both hands.
Neither of them could stand up.
Li En glanced at it and then looked away.
The conversion speed is much faster than in the game; the time it takes for the wound infection to reach the central nervous system and take over the motor system is abnormally short.
But that's not important.
The movement speed is very slow.
The one lying on its stomach takes about ten seconds to crawl one meter.
The one who was kneeling tried to stand up, dragging his ankles on the ground, walking at a slower pace than a normal person taking a walk.
He walked over to the one who was standing.
The footsteps weren't deliberately made quiet; the soles of the shoes tapped on the floor tiles, the sound echoing in the empty convenience store.
Li En swung the crowbar, which drew an arc in the air before the curved, flat end was aimed at the zombie's head and smashed down from above.
thump.
The dull thud of a blunt object striking bone.
The metal surface of the crowbar transmitted the impact vibrations along the shaft to my palm, making my thumb and forefinger numb and my finger joints tingle with a slight stinging pain.
The zombie's skull was dented.
The skin wasn't broken, but the bone underneath had collapsed, forming an irregular depression with radial cracks spreading from under the skin.
He fell backward, his back hitting the glass door of the beverage cabinet. The glass creaked under the weight, and then he slid to the ground.
But it did not stop moving.
His arms were still moving, left and right, like he was swimming on his back.
The fingernails scraped against the metal frame of the beverage cooler, making a harsh, screeching sound.
……