Chapter Text
Apocalypse: Star Rail might be the objectively worst game Dr. Veritas Ratio has ever played — and he has played a lot of games — but really, it’s kind of his own fault for subjecting himself to this nonsense by willingly signing up for it.
See, he has been an avid fan of its predecessor, Apocalypse Impact, since his teenage days. There’s nothing quite like an sci-fi action RPG with beautifully designed characters and a fantastically well-written storyline to take the edge off after a particularly bad exam, and its humanist ideology had hooked Veritas from the get-go. After all, this was the very same philosophy that had led to his lifelong pursuit of the dissemination of knowledge in hopes for progress, culminating in his career as a now-tenured professor.
All this meant that when the developer announced that they were starting a new game, Veritas had been nothing short of ecstatic. What sort of masterpiece could they come up with this time? Veritas has always been what they call a “lore fanatic”, first and foremost, and the detailed world of Apocalypse Impact fed into this particular tendency of his nicely.
Unfortunately, not only did this new game fail to meet his expectations, it went so far below them that Veritas is half-convinced the developers made the game with their eyes closed. While Star Rail’s mechanics were passable, the worldbuilding was horrendous, not to mention the story —
And the thing is, the game had actually begun quite decently, so Veritas would argue that it makes perfect sense to feel cheated. It followed the Trailblazer, a self-insert character — which should’ve been the first red flag, in retrospect — going on a cosmic adventure to save the universe. Along the way, they would meet plenty of colorful characters and encounter gripping schemes… Or so the developers probably intended.
But in what world is murdering half the known universe for no reason even remotely reasonable? When idiot plots plague the members of the so-called ‘Genius Society’? When the heroes somehow manage to set off every incident possible that could’ve been avoided with an ounce of critical thinking?
Was this their way to counter complaints about Impact’s “unrealistically” happy ending?
Listen. Veritas isn’t even concerned about the status of his favorite characters in-game most of the time. If it serves the narrative right, he is of the (objectively correct) opinion that characters can and should be removed from it, no matter how much he likes them. However, when the death of a character is not only unnecessary but also goes against the central themes of the entire plot woven into the game, just for the sake of creating a twist?
Thoughtless. Ridiculous. Derisible. Not even the logic in his students’ papers are this appalling, and given the standard of the cohort this year, the developers should be ashamed that Ratio can even think to make that comparison.
They killed off the singular. Best. Character. In the game.
Of course, Kakavasha’s death would not have been an issue if it enhanced the message the developers were trying to send — at least, whatever the message could’ve been, if they’d had the capability to deliver a coherent one. But for a major character to endure the worst suffering possible and grow into himself just to die before he can reach the end? That directly contradicted the humanist philosophy the game was evidently trying (and failing terribly) to preach.
Not that most other players in the community would understand his fury, anyhow, when any relevant lore was hidden in readables and item descriptions the vast majority never bother to read.
Well. Ahem. There is one thing he can do — and is all too adept at doing.
With the experience of one who has read one too many essays from university students who shouldn’t have graduated kindergarten, Veritas begins typing into the review box.
DoctorofTruth: 0 points. Since when was this number of unaddressed plot holes and ass-pulls acceptable in an RPG? I didn’t realize it was possible to have a story that relies entirely on the idiocy of every single character involved in it, despite its claims that most are of average, if not ‘genius-level’, intelligence. The unnecessary deaths of several key characters only contributed to this sense of lack of direction by cutting short running themes for shock value.
“Moronic developers! Moronic game!” Veritas hisses at his screen, too incensed to even conjure up any better insults. He’s so engrossed in his furious typing that he doesn’t realize his wires are sparking until it’s too late.
And just like that, “Moronic developers! Moronic game!” becomes Dr. Veritas Ratio’s last words…
Until he opens his eyes to an unfamiliar white ceiling. A woman’s suspiciously large face looms over him, a fond look in her eyes despite being a complete stranger to Veritas.
Where am I? Is this the hospital? Am I dead? he tries to ask.
To his horror, no words come out. Instead, all that leaves his mouth is a stream of high-pitched, incomprehensible babbling.
Let it be said that Dr. Veritas Ratio is not in the habit of panicking. On the contrary, in fact. Even with his prickly demeanor, one thing most of his colleagues voice appreciation for is his ability to stay calm in the face of crisis. However, here, Ratio’s throat starts to constrict in an emotion he recognizes as pure fear.
That’s when a mechanical voice rings in his ear.
【 You have died! Activation Code: “Moronic developers, moronic game.” System automatically triggered. 】
Veritas regards the transparent, glowing blue screen in front of him with a mixture of foreboding, disbelief and complete confusion. When did Google Translate get into his head? And, more importantly, if he were dead, how is he still breathing?
【 Welcome to the System! This System operates in line with the design concept “YOU CAN YOU UP, NO CAN NO BB”. 】
If that translation is anywhere near admissible by modern standards, Veritas might as well toss his HSK-6 Chinese certificate into the trash.
【 It is our sincere wish that during your time, you can fulfill your desires and, in accordance with your wish, transform a piece of moronic work into a magnificent, high-quality, first-rate classic. Enjoy!
Activating in 3… 2… 】
“Look at him,” someone coos from above. “Look at that angry face. So cute!”
… Cute!? Before Veritas can finish processing what he’s just heard, yet another screen pops up.
【 … 1.
The System was successfully activated!
Bound Role: Unnamed male NPC of the ██████ star system, age 0.
Starting P-Points: 0. 】
What?
Veritas tries to reach out to touch the screen, only to realize in mute horror that his fingers are, indeed, the stubby ones of an infant.
No. No no no no no, he thinks wildly. Absolutely not. This is a nightmare, nothing else. I did not just get transmigrated to this moronic game. Especially not as a baby NPC. He is not going through puberty all over again.
【 Congratulations! We welcome you to Apocalypse: Star Rail, version ██! 】