Chapter 81: Player’s POV

Chapter 81: Chapter 81: Player’s POVPresident Benigno "Noynoy" Aquino III sat at his expansive desk in Malacañang Palace, the weight of the inexplicable events palpable. He pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling slowly, a sound like a tired sigh. A security aide stood stiffly before him, clutching a report.


"...and while there were 13 casualties, Mr. President," the aide began, his voice tight, "reports from Cagayan De Oro indicate a significant firefight in the slums. Local police initially attributed it to gang activity, but witness accounts are... inconsistent and weird."

Aquino’s eyes were closed, a deep furrow between his brows.

"No visible cameras in the area, but multiple independent witnesses reported only one man, facing off against several armed individuals. Furthermore, these witnesses also reported the involvement of American nationals. Most unusually, sir, the man alone was described as ’invincible to bullets,’ tearing through houses in his path. They’re calling it... supernatural."

The President opened his eyes, a flicker of something close to despair in them. He gestured dismissively.

"Close the case," he ordered, his voice firm despite the sigh that escaped him. "Immediately. Bury every shred of evidence. Tell the media to report it as an earthquake and mass hysteria. Inform PHIVOLCS of an earthquake in the area. Ensure the narrative is controlled."

He leaned forward, his voice gaining urgency. "Involving ourselves with such entities is too risky at the moment. Not when this country is finally on the cusp of rising out of a third-world status. Our reputation, our economic momentum... it’s too fragile to be jeopardized by something so... fantastical. We must project an image of stability and progress to the world."

Aquino’s expression hardened, shifting to resolve. He had to look forward.

"However, this incident also highlights our vulnerabilities. Inform Bytebull of a Digital Defense Research Initiative."

He paused, a grim satisfaction in his gaze. "They have just informed us that their Autonomous Research Lab has finished construction. We’re a country that the entire world now focuses on due to Bytebull’s success, and yet we’re a nation with woefully weak digital systems adaptation.

We must no longer ignore these weaknesses. Commission Bytebull to work directly with the DICT – the Department of Information and Communications Technology. This is paramount."



The President continued, outlining another ambitious commission for the burgeoning tech giant.

"Furthermore, we will also commission Bytebull to work with DOST – the Department of Science and Technology, DOE – the Department of Energy, and Energy Regulatory Commission, ERC – for a comprehensive nuclear research initiative."

His voice gained momentum, a vision of the future taking shape. "It’s time. We will reopen the Bataan Nuclear Power Plant. Our semiconductor industry is growing exponentially, but our general industrial sector is becoming a grave concern in regards to power supply. This isn’t a personal political issue; this is a matter of national pride and survival for our burgeoning industrial strength."

The weight of the unexplainable still lingered in the air, a phantom chill. But President Aquino had made his choice. Stability. Progress. And Bytebull, it seemed, was now inextricably linked to the nation’s destiny, for better or worse.

---------------

Back to the Present - June 23, 2013

Two days after Bytecon, the world still buzzed. News channels endlessly replayed snippets of Richard’s and Jack’s presentations, analysts debated the implications of Phoenix AI, and the general public, across every continent, was either downloading Phoenix Chat or trying to figure out what "open source" even meant.

For Allan, though, hunched over his gaming PC, the real revolution wasn’t in some abstract AI. It was right here, glowing on his monitor: World War 2: Frontlines.

He’d almost forgotten the half-eaten bag of chips beside his keyboard, their salty scent long faded into the general tang of his room. His eyes, usually a bit glazed over from hours of staring at pixels, were wide, sharp, and utterly engrossed.

The single-player campaign, even before the massive multiplayer update, had set an impossibly high bar for realism. He’d trudged through virtual mud, felt the concussive force of artillery, witnessed the brutal ballet of close-quarters combat. It had been an experience, not just a game.

I expected a typical 64 vs. 64 or maybe even a 128 vs. 128 server, like Battlefield, he thought, adjusting his headset. You know, spawn, shoot, die, repeat. But this... this is something else entirely. A persistent world FPS? Like a whole war, just... going on? Who even thought of that? It’s mind-boggling.



He navigated the game’s vast, dynamic map. It was a sprawling, detailed representation of Eastern Europe, currently scarred by the ongoing conflict. He remembered his initial skepticism when Bytebull had first teased the idea.

A truly persistent, always-on warzone? Could it really feel populated? He’d seen other games try to pull off "massive multiplayer" only to end up feeling like empty shells, a few dozen players rattling around in a gigantic, hollow world. But now, he was in it. Part of it. A small cog in a colossal, brutal war machine that never seemed to stop. The little dots on his mini-map, both blue and red, moved with an organic flow, a constant ebb and flow of battle lines.

His current squad moved with practiced ease through a bombed-out village. He’d chosen AI squad members today, just to see how they’d adapted to the new multiplayer environment. They moved with a tactical awareness that put some human players to shame, intelligently flanking an enemy machine gun nest, their movements fluid and coordinated.

They communicated in crisp, tactical chatter, voices filtered through his headset as if from actual field radios.

"Flanking left! Covering fire!" "Enemy sighted, two o’clock, behind the rubble!" Yesterday, he’d played with his buddies, and their combined player-and-AI squads had moved like small, perfectly coordinated armies across the map, a seamless blend of human strategy and artificial precision.

The AI... it’s just incredible, he marvelled, watching his AI rifleman expertly clear a building.

They actually act like real soldiers. No running into walls, no stupid pathfinding. And the voice interaction? Adapting to multiplayer with proper comms? That’s just wild. It’s not just a demo trick, it’s real.

He checked his current rank: Private. A small, bronze bar on his HUD. Right, Privates obey. He’d tried to order his AI squad earlier, to rush a particularly stubborn machine gun nest that was pinning them down.

"Squad, push forward on my mark!" he’d barked into his mic. But his AI Squad Leader, a grizzled veteran voice with a distinct Russian accent, had overridden him. "Negative, Private. Hold position. Flank is exposed. We will advance once armor is in position."

A more cautious, tactical directive based on the fluid battlefield situation. He’d grumbled, but he knew the AI was right.

Right, Privates obey. But even then, the AI isn’t some fixed script, he thought, remembering other games where AI simply followed predefined paths.

It changes orders based on what’s happening, what the actual CO is saying over the comms, or even if I suggest something intelligent. It’s truly dynamic. Like, if I scout a new path, they’ll actually consider it.



A tank shell shrieked overhead, then detonated with a deafening CRUMP, ripping through a nearby building. A section of its wall disintegrated in a shower of dust, brick, and twisted rebar.

Just as Bytebull had announced at Bytecon: fully destructible environments. Allan immediately pulled out his shovel tool. A few quick clicks, a satisfying thump-thump-thump sound effect, and he was digging a shallow foxhole, burrowing into the earth for cover as dirt clods flew around him.

He opened his map, a detailed, tactical overlay of his sector. A small blue icon, representing a supply truck, moved steadily towards their front line, a tiny animated dot inching along a dirt track.

Other players, somewhere across the massive map, had manufactured it in a factory zone, loaded it with ammunition or fuel, and were now transporting it to resupply their exhausted forces. Everything felt connected. Every action, every resource, every bullet fired felt like it mattered in this sprawling, living war.

He’d joined the Soviets in the Eastern Campaign, assigned to a region near Stalingrad. He scrolled through the map, zooming out to see the larger picture. Active fronts raged across Western Europe for the USA/UK players, distinct lines of red and blue clashing across the terrain.

Skirmishes flickered like embers for German forces in the heart of Europe. He noted the absence of playable naval battles, only troop transport ships crossing the vast, rendered oceans, ferrying reinforcements or supplies. A slight disappointment, but he figured that was probably a future expansion. You couldn’t have everything on day one.

He opened the in-game store, a clean, intuitive interface. Cosmetic items. Unique uniforms, historically accurate weapon skins, different helmet types. All good. He saw the "Gold" option for premium currency, a glittering stack of coins.

But the description beneath it was a huge relief: it clearly stated it was for faction-wide boosts. You couldn’t buy yourself an unfair advantage, no "pay-to-win" power-ups. He scrolled through the recent faction contributions and saw a general in his faction, a player named ’Red_Baron_42’, had just contributed 500 Gold to accelerate tank production.

Cosmetics were fine. But an absolute no pay-to-win. That’s a huge relief, he thought, leaning back slightly in his chair. You can’t just buy your way to victory. Contribution helps the whole faction, not just your K/D. If you have shitty aim, you have shitty aim. Good call, Bytebull. Seriously, good call.

He glanced at the "Current War Status" tab. His eyes landed on the "Research Tree" for the Soviet faction. A new tank BT-7M, a fast and reliable tank– was being researched. For a game that was release a couple of days ago, his faction was fast.

The progress bar was filling slowly, with players contributing their "Warbonds" – the standard in-game currency earned from combat and logistics – to accelerate it. He clicked the button, adding his daily earnings to the collective effort.

Then, he checked his own personal progression bar. Slowly filling. Corporal was next. After the current war ended. It was a long grind, but knowing every kill, every resupply, every objective captured contributed to something bigger, to the entire faction’s war effort, made it feel worthwhile. It felt like every war, every progress was worth it.