Today, the game market is like a huge machine, and well-designed cultivation systems emerge in an endless stream. The cultivation materials of Xiakong in “Mingchao” are so complicated that they are dizzying. Aren’t those strings of crystallized phlogiston, tide-eroded sail cores, burning phosphorus bones, and golden wool a reflection of the dual exhaustion of modern people’s spirit and material?
Looking at the long list, players are forced to constantly brush materials and repeat mechanical tasks, and they undoubtedly feel anxious. The game seems to have become a kind of labor without an end, and the workers on the production line do it day after day, year after year. On the surface, it is entertainment, but in fact it is another form of slavery. It is regrettable that many players voluntarily trap themselves in this invisible cage and chase the empty “top equipment”, as if only in this way can they prove their value.
The complexity of the material names is particularly ironic. The impure, crudely extracted, distilled, and highly pure crystallized phlogiston points to an ultimate goal – perfection. Perfect appearance, perfect ability, but forget the true feelings of the human heart. Such a pile of standards is just like the requirements for people in the real society. From food, clothing, housing and transportation to mental outlook, perfection is the yardstick, which oppresses individual freedom and authenticity.
The scarce resource of “Golden Fleece” is a microcosm of resource inequality in modern society. Purchase restrictions and high prices make ordinary players sigh in despair. The “Golden Fleece” in the game seems to tell us that capital is the game rule maker in this world, and ordinary people can only climb up step by step. The designers of the game undoubtedly have insight into the desires and comparisons in human nature, and use this virtual treasure to create tension and pressure.
The acquisition of materials also makes people feel pity. Players must run around, challenge strong enemies, and repeat monotonous actions. Such mechanical labor not only consumes time, but also wears down their will. Life is already like this, and the game has become another “life”. We have lost our original intention to relax in the game, and instead we are anxious and tired. As Mr. Lu Xun said, “Countless people live in pain and silence”, and the game has become another form of silent shackles.
The design of “Stuffed Meat and Tofu” that increases the drop rate by 50% is undoubtedly a “gift” from the game maker to the players, but it also exposes a reality – without such “shortcuts”, players can hardly bear the burden of the game. The so-called “Stuffed Meat and Tofu”, like various means of opportunism and shortcuts in society, makes the process easier, but also aggravates the complexity and unfairness of the system.
The day when the iris blooms is a slightly warm existence. It symbolizes hope and beauty, reminding people that even in the midst of complexity and pressure, they should keep the flower in their hearts. But the depth of game design often makes this beauty seem particularly far away. If countless players get lost in the maze of materials, isn’t it a waste of time?
All this makes me think of the commonality between modern society and games: they are both huge and complex systems that manipulate individual behavior and psychology. Game players, like robots pulled by programs, brush materials and upgrade day after day, as if only in this way can they prove the meaning of existence. Real life is also like this. Capital, rules, and systems bind people in endless competition and comparison.
Behind such a design, we must reflect: Does the game really bring happiness? Or is there a deeper exploitation hidden under the cloak of entertainment? Players are free to choose, but has “freedom” itself become another burden?
The Xiakong material system in “Mingchao” is a microcosm of the times. It reflects the anxiety, fatigue and desire for a better life of modern people. We struggle in complex materials and rules, trying to catch that ray of free wind, but are often tightly bound by the pressure of reality. May we not forget our original dream, not be swallowed by the complex “cultivation”, and find our own real Xiakong.