Treabar

Tag: Survival

  • Experience the impermanence of fate and the perseverance of life in the firelight of the popcorn pot

    The popcorn pot in Ju Fufu’s hand looks simple on the outside, but it becomes a sharp weapon to fight against fate in her hands. Her knocking movements were hurried at first, as if those hurried days in life were so suffocating. The first three hammers were sonorous and powerful, and each sound seemed to be hitting the iron door of fate and the invisible cage. The fourth hammer slowed down and fell heavily, as if in contemplation, and as if enduring.

    Life is like this, fast and slow, with slowness mixed in the rush. Ju Fufu’s movements revealed a kind of helplessness, but she did not stop, because she knew that stopping would mean failure. She spun and dodged, avoiding waves of attacks, sometimes from the outside, sometimes from the heart. Every turn she made seemed to be dealing with fate, and she would not give up easily even if she was scarred.

    At the moment of “opening the pot”, the fire burst out, and the popcorn exploded in the pot. The crackling sound was very much like the sudden burst of hope and joy in life. But the fire illuminated not only laughter, but also shadows. There was anxiety and stubbornness in the eyes of the teammates. Under the fire, they kept looking for reasons to live. The popcorn pot is not only a weapon, but also a short warm harbor for them, a rare bit of heat in this cold world.

    The wound system on Ju Fufu’s body is a symbol of pain in life. Those scars are not decorations, but bloody memories. Her body is like a broken porcelain, every crack is a past suffering, and every touch brings severe pain. She does not expect to escape these pains, because pain is part of life. She accepts them and even learns to use pain as strength to move forward.

    Her support skills are like a ray of warm sunshine. Even if she is wounded, she still does not forget to help others. Her quick support, parry support, and the additional attack that is always ready are like the unexpected kindness and warmth in life, making people feel that although the world is cruel, there are always people willing to lend a hand. In her hands, the popcorn pot is not only a tool to kill the enemy, but also a bridge connecting each other’s hearts.

    The moment when the finishing move is released is the most intense outburst in her life. The flames burned so hot that the popcorn scattered like a meteor. At that moment, she poured out all her anger, unwillingness and hope. What shines in the fire is her unyielding soul and her desire for the future. She knows that no matter how painful it is, no matter how bumpy the road ahead is, she must burn herself and illuminate others.

    The battle is over, and the embers in the pot have not yet been extinguished. The embers symbolize the continuation and hope of life. The back of Ju Fufu gradually fades away, but her story is deeply engraved in everyone’s heart. She taught us that even if we are in a desperate situation, we should not easily give up the flame in our hearts. We cannot change the cruelty and ruthlessness of life, but we can choose to be strong and embrace it with a warm heart.

    In everyone’s life, there is a “popcorn pot”. Maybe it is just a simple tool, but it represents our courage to fight against fate. Ju Fufu tells us that to live is to keep knocking, even if the knife is sharp and the fire is dazzling, we must persist to the end. Because in the fire, there is the purest tenacity and warmth of life.

    In the face of the cruelty and impermanence of this reality, we are all Ju Fufu, and we all have our own battlefields and stories. May we all be like her, with scars and hope, continue to knock on the “pot lid” of life, so that the fire of life will never go out.

  • The magical realism and struggle of human nature in modern games can be seen from the complexity of the materials for the cultivation of Xia Kong in Mingchao

    The list of materials for the cultivation of Xia Kong is like the magical legends circulated under the old locust tree at the head of the village, full of exotic flowers and plants, and stained with the breath of magical realism. The unfamiliar names of crystallized phlogiston, tide-eroded sail core, and burning phosphorus bone are like stardust falling from the sky, sticking to the fingertips of players and sticking to their souls. This long list of materials is a spider web woven by modern game designers, which tightly entangles players, like an old farmer working non-stop in the autumn harvest season, harvesting the virtual fruits that cannot be escaped.

    I remember when I was a child, the old man in the village said that the gods in the sky would also send messengers to bring various trials. Whoever can complete them can pick the stars and embrace the moon. Today’s Xia Kong cultivation materials may be the test brought by the messenger. The impure, crudely extracted, distilled, and highly pure crystallized phlogiston are layered and stacked, like a winding stream in a valley, advancing layer by layer, with a clear and cold feeling, but people can’t stop looking for it. Players are like children running errands in the village. In exchange for a sharp hoe, they walk through muddy fields, brave the wind and rain, how hard it is.

    And the “Golden Fleece” is no longer a golden treasure in mythology, but a hard bone in the game economy. The rule of limiting purchases to 15 pieces is like the old rules in the village. People can’t eat a fat man in one bite, but can only gnaw slowly. Whoever can own the Golden Fleece is like an old farmer who has obtained the fertilizer given by God, which can make the crops harvested. Everyone is jealous, and some people hate it. The limited and precious resources of this kind in the game reflect the helplessness and resistance of modern society to the unfair distribution of resources. The competition among players is like the shouting and collision of farmers when they rush to harvest fruits, which is warm but helpless.

    The tidal sail core is like the surging waves in the deep sea, and every drop brings surprise and disappointment. Players, like fishermen, cast nets in the boundless sea, hoping to catch the fattest fish, but often only a few dried fish and broken nets. Repeated brushing of materials is not only a gameplay, but also a portrayal of the villagers’ labor year after year: despite the hard work, they still have to persist, because that is life and a ritual that must be completed.

    The existence of the material “stuffed meat tofu” is like a hot meal served by the mother in the village, cheering up the children who have worked all day. Its design of increasing the material drop rate is like adding a little seasoning to life, adding a little flavor and hope to the monotonous life. In the repeated and tiring “brushing”, players rely on this little “welfare” as if relying on the bowl of hot porridge in their hometown to support their spirit and strength.

    The world of the game is so complicated, and the list of materials is so huge, but it just reflects the complexity and helplessness of reality. Modern people are like players in this virtual world, kidnapped by heavy tasks and endless requirements, constantly looking for a way out in the maze of life. The design of the cultivation materials makes people feel anxious, but they can’t bear to abandon them. The contradiction of wanting to break free from the shackles but being unable to give up is a true portrayal of the hearts of contemporary people.

    Xiakong’s cultivation materials carry a strong mark of the times and an ancient rural atmosphere. In a world where virtual and real are intertwined, players are like the tenacious farmers in the village, trapped by the environment and working hard to open up their own fields. The struggle and grinding in the game are like the farming and harvesting of farmers, sad but real, rough but full of vitality.

    Mo Yan once said that the countryside is a magical place, and the cultivation system of modern games is also a magical realist performance. The complex materials are not only the rules of the game, but also the endless struggle and hope in people’s hearts. The materials for developing Xia Kong in the game are like the land of his hometown, muddy and overgrown with weeds, but full of the power of life, waiting to be understood and surpassed.

  • Feng Jin’s silence and the intertwined trajectory of light and shadow on the Star Dome Railway

    Feng Jin is a shadow walking in the wind. She walks silently on the Star Dome Railway, carrying the weight of memory and the silence of time. Her growth is like a river running through the wilderness, hidden under the gray sky, calm but with surging undercurrents.

    Her body is covered with “fear crushing flesh and blood”, which is the trembling when facing the unknown countless times and the pain of struggling in the darkness. Her flesh and blood are broken, but she does not fall down. Her body and soul are looking for an opportunity to reconnect in this silent break. Fear is not her enemy, but a sharpening of her blade.

    Following closely is the mark of “courage tearing the chest”. Courage is not a gift from heaven, but the fragility born in the tearing, the blood flowing in the cracks, and the unspeakable pain. Although Feng Jin’s chest was torn, it was reshaped in pain and became a hard shield. She used courage to fight against fate, no matter how cruel and ruthless it was.

    “Glory Baptizes the Body” is a symbol of contradiction. Glory should be bright, but in Feng Jin’s body, it is like a silent trial, washing away the dust, but bringing deeper loneliness. She burned in the flames of glory, turned into ashes, and rose from the ashes. Glory is not liberation, but a new round of shackles.

    “A Cup of Drunk Time” is the nightmare and illusion that Feng Jin experienced at the Pinocchio Theater. That cup of drunken wine intoxicated her eyes and confused her heart, as if she was swallowed by the mist of history. She searched in the wine, trying to grasp the passing time, but could only leave a hole and an echo.

    The exclusive light cone “May the rainbow light stay in the sky forever” is Feng Jin’s only belief. She poured all her materials into it, hoping that the light can penetrate the darkness and illuminate the way forward. The light cone is not only a symbol of strength, but also the sustenance of her soul and her eternal desire for the future. She guards this beam of light alone, like a watcher, quietly waiting for the dawn.

    Feng Jin’s growth is a silent struggle. She pieced together her own figure with fragments of fear, courage and glory. Every piece of material, every credit point, is a mark of her struggle against fate. She has no words, only walking, only silent persistence.

    The “seeds of thinking”, “manas sprouts” and “alayahua” in the trace materials are like the secret garden in her heart, deep and complex. They nourish her soul and also tell her endless loneliness and thinking. “The sound of the same wish” and “the footprints of fate” are the symbols of her communication with the world, and her hints and expectations for the future.

    Feng Jin is like a gust of wind, gently passing over the Xingkong Railway, but bringing up layers of waves. Her story has no passionate horns, only low chants. She tells us that the meaning of life lies not in the hustle and bustle, but in the perseverance in silence. Even in loneliness and darkness, light still exists.

    The jasmine on the Starry Sky Railway is a microcosm of the times and a symbol of countless lost souls of that era. Her walk is a resistance to fate and a pursuit of light. She silently tells her story and calls for everyone’s awakening.

    Her light may be weak, but it is enough to penetrate the deepest darkness. Her shadow may be lonely, but it dances freely in the wind. The jasmine is the wind, the light, and the poem under the endless starry sky.