Treabar

Tag: ARPG

  • The spiritual dilemma and the reflection of the times in modern games from the accumulation of complex materials in Mingchao Xiakong

    Recently, the game Mingchao has attracted considerable attention. In particular, the complicated accumulation of materials for the cultivation of the new five-star resonator “Xiakong” has become the focus of controversy and complaints among players. Looking closely, these piles of materials are complicated and progressive, with low-frequency tidal erosion sail cores, medium-frequency high-frequency and even full-frequency, all of which symbolize the increasingly heavy burden on players; and rare materials such as burning phosphorus bones and golden wool are more like bait, tempting players to indulge in endless brushing and pursuit. If you look at the accumulation of materials in this game from the eyes of Lu Xun, you can see the deep spiritual dilemma and the reflection of the times behind the design of modern games.

    To cultivate Xiakong, you must collect low-frequency, medium-frequency, high-frequency, and full-frequency tidal erosion sail cores, the number of which can be as many as dozens or even dozens. The large number makes people think of the busyness and complexity of the world today: people are entangled in layers of affairs, and if they want to move forward, they must overcome many obstacles. The accumulation of numbers in the game seems to be a microcosm of the mental burden of modern people. Players follow the so-called “growth” in the virtual world, just like the nameless people who are bound by various rules and expectations in life, walking in endless anxiety and fatigue.

    The names of “burning phosphorus bones” and “golden fleece” sound mysterious and poetic, but in fact, the way to obtain them is a long and boring grinding, which consumes the time and patience of players. This reminds people of countless helpless individuals in reality who have exhausted their energy for the “rare materials” of life, but still lament that the harvest is meager. The game is named after materials, as if it condenses the suffering of reality into a string of numbers. Players are both participants in the game and a portrayal of the dilemma of reality.

    Even more annoying are the materials for special weapon cultivation: simple shackles, basic shackles, modified shackles, and special shackles. The names of these “shackles” have their own symbolic meanings. They are like shackles, encircling the players’ hands and feet, locking the freedom and happiness that should have been there into layers of demands and tasks. Game designers cleverly use the metaphor of “shackles” to make players sink deeper and deeper in the pursuit of power, unable to extricate themselves. This is the most alarming aspect of modern games: they are no longer just entertainment, but the creators of spiritual shackles.

    The introduction of recharge systems and discount codes has dragged games into the vortex of capital. The so-called moon phases, points, and tokens, which seem to be complicated numbers on the surface, are actually converters from real currency to virtual currency. Players invest real money in the virtual world in exchange for short-term power and pleasure. However, this pleasure is as short-lived as fireworks, and in the end, only emptiness and regret are left. Games have become tools for capital manipulation, and players have become consumers who are coerced.

    The material name of “Iris Blooms Day” could have been an expression of a beautiful image, but it was limited to the cruel conditions that must be defeated to obtain it. For this “beauty”, players have to challenge their limits repeatedly, exhausting their time and energy, just like workers in reality who struggle for their dreams but suffer repeated setbacks. Games and life are so similar.

    “Stuffed meat tofu”, a seemingly friendly little prop, is actually full of irony: it allows players to increase the material acquisition rate within a limited time, but also accelerates the oppressive rhythm of the game. This is like the “efficiency first” logic in modern society, pushing people into a more intense competition, making it difficult to breathe. Everything in the game is nothing more than a projection of reality and an amplification of reality.

    These layers of material requirements, and the high cost of time and money, make the game no longer a pure entertainment, but a silent spiritual battle. Players struggle in the ocean of numbers, not only for growth in the game, but also to find the rare satisfaction and meaning in reality. However, this satisfaction is often short-lived, and the design of the game pushes them to the next more difficult challenge.

    Mingchao Xiakong, on the surface, is a glamorous game, but behind it is a portrayal of the mental state of modern society: anxiety, fatigue, pursuit and loss intertwined. The game production team cleverly created invisible shackles with a complex development system to lock the players tightly. Just like “Ah Q” in Lu Xun’s works, who anesthetized himself in false victory, the players in the game world are also struggling in the digital maze.

    Finally, I hope we can see clearly this network of virtual and reality, and be alert to the spiritual crisis of the game while not losing our expectations for a good game experience. The story of Mingchao Xiakong is ultimately a mirror that reflects the contradictions of the times and the struggles of people.

  • A narration of the subtlety of human nature and the impermanence of fate behind the glitz

    Ju Fufu, this name falls lightly in front of my eyes, like a yellowed old photo, reflecting mottled light and shadow, with endless loneliness and tenderness. Her skills are like her life, gorgeous but with helpless cruelty, just like those women wandering in the prosperous world, elegant but may be severely knocked down by fate at any time.

    Her ordinary attack is the kind of delicate and harsh knock, like a few gentle pokes in the heart, but it is painful. There are no grand fireworks, only a few scars, which belong to the joys and sorrows of the little people. Her every move is soaked in the heat and cold of fire, as if burning herself with flames and stabbing others with wounds.

    Dodging is not an easy and elegant turn, but a struggle with a bit of powerlessness. What she avoids is the invisible shackles, the web woven by desires, vanity and scheming. Every dodge is a painful interpretation of compromise with life, but it also implies a desire for freedom, just like the kind of people who keep wandering in the world but can’t find a home.

    Her special skills and joint skills are metaphors for the subtle relationship between people. She wields the popcorn pot, that absurd but real weapon, as if it is a protective shield she uses to fight loneliness and desolation. The jumping flames reflect the unspeakable loneliness and helplessness deep in her heart, and also illuminate those neglected emotional details.

    In the core skills, the setting of the popcorn pot to automatically attack on the battlefield is like the traces left by people in life. Although silent, it constantly affects the surroundings. The accumulation of heat is just like her suppressed emotions and unknown thoughts. As time goes by, it gradually accumulates into an inescapable burden.

    In the fiery rotation state, she is both a hunter and a prey, just like those women in the whirlpool of emotions, who want to break free but are tightly entangled by the flames of emotions. Every time she attacks, she is testing her own limits and resisting fate.

    The parrying and counterattack in the support skills are very similar to her contradictory psychology in interpersonal relationships, wanting to get close but afraid of getting hurt. Her additional attacks with the popcorn pot are a counterattack against those injuries, but with a bit of helplessness and sadness. Her invincible moments are like the moments when she pretends to be strong in front of others, covering up her inner fragility and fear.

    In the imagery, the extra abilities and attack boosts given to her are not only the enhancement of skills, but also more like compensation for the injustice of fate to her. Her heat and flames have become her sharpest weapons and her biggest burden.

    In her story, there is no aura of heroes, no legendary battles, only struggles and pains in ordinary life. She is very similar to those ordinary people who are overwhelmed by reality but still insist on living. Her flame is the last warmth in her heart, and it is the persistence and unwillingness to give up on life.

    Every time a skill is activated, it is like a monologue of the soul, telling of her inner loneliness and strength. Her flame is both gentle and cruel, protecting and hurting. Her fight is a dialogue with fate, a resistance to reality, and an expectation for the future.

    The image of Ju Fufu is filled with a touch of sadness and helplessness, but also full of the complexity and depth of human nature. Her flame, like a firework, blooms beautifully but briefly, illuminating the darkness, and will eventually return to silence.

    Such a woman is distressing, but people can’t look away. She interprets the impermanence of life and the subtlety of human nature in her own way, like a low-pitched poem, penetrating the illusion of prosperity and reaching the depths of the soul.