Chapter 48: The Peculiar Logic of Solo Outskirts

A solo outskirt position is for people obsessed with 1v1s.

In Eternal World, solo outskirt players had a notoriously bad reputation.

The perception was that they only cared about themselves.

Still, compared to other games, it wasn’t too bad—those players were considered downright crazy elsewhere.

Since the game started and ended with 1v1s, playing solo outskirts left little room for variables.

Your hands were your only enemy and your only ally.

It was like old RTS games or fighting games, where you had minimal excuses to blame your team.

Of course, once it reached the team-fight phase, things changed, but still.

What was my point again?

Oh, right—I wanted to say that solo outskirt players all had peculiar playstyles.

“Wouldn’t it be better to regroup now?”

“Sis, what are you talking about? Why would a solo outskirt player regroup?”

Solo rank and tournaments were completely different games, but this difference stood out especially for solo outskirt players.

In solo rank, outskirt players were lunatics who often avoided mid-game urban team fights or even second-tier objective battles.

But in tournaments, it was a different story.

While the special object called the “Named Mutant,” which dropped valuable rewards, was so crucial that even in tournaments players wouldn’t join team fights until at least eight minutes in (and sometimes teammates would go to the outskirts to help claim it), once the Named Mutant was taken down, solo outskirt players lived in the city.

The game developers tried to balance this by increasing the value of tier-5 outskirts objectives or redesigning outskirt maps, but the system always reverted to the current form.

Messing with the outskirts system only made the game more bizarre.

“Just leave the outskirts alone.”

That’s a famous saying among Eternal World players.

Still, there had to be a limit.

If regrouping guaranteed a win, wouldn’t it make more sense to regroup?

“Sis.”

“Speak.”

“Basically, you’re the core.”

“The core is a specialist who directs the game.”

“Ha, Sis. Just watch and learn.”

Right then, the enemy outskirt player joined their team in the city, just like in tournaments.

While this widened the growth gap between outskirt players, the enemy team of five gained more overall than our single outskirt player.

It was clear the game would start to unravel within five minutes.

Now, let’s see who’s right—

[Victory]

I stared blankly at the word that popped up on Bunnyrun’s screen.

Huh?

“Why does the enemy main carry keep dying while messing with objectives, even though they’d win just by breathing?”

“That’s why you’re the core, Sis.”

“And why does the enemy core, who’d win any fight they initiate, just stay holed up in the city?”

“That’s why you’re the core, Sis.”

“The enemy is a core too, you know?”

As the bizarre situation continued, it culminated with Bunnyrun, who had fully grown, smashing everyone’s heads in. That’s when I reached a conclusion:

This is stream sniping.

“Bunnyrun, you’re definitely a popular streamer. Are all 11 of them sniping you?”

“Get a grip, Sis. This is just what the Diamond rank is like. You’re a born Challenger, so you don’t get it.”

“There’s no one as empathetic to low-tier players as I am. What are you talking about?”

I’m the one who climbed to Challenger through endless research with just Master-level mechanics.

Rarely does anyone know low-tier games better than I do.

But Bunnyrun insisted.

“Sis.”

“Yes?”

“True low-tier players can’t just study and make it to Challenger.

Also, no one calls Diamond low-tier. Face it—you’re a born Challenger.”

That couldn’t be true.

I’m a hard worker!

Take that back!

“Still, my advice on gameplay that moves you up the ladder isn’t wrong.”

“If that’s the case, will you teach me? I’d like to learn the game from you.”

She wanted to learn from me?

Honestly, there were plenty of frustrating aspects to Bunnyrun’s gameplay when I watched her.

“Should we do that?”

“What’s my core problem?”

Her fundamental issue was her overwhelming love for playing the outskirts.

Even when it was clear that regrouping was the better move, she’d still roam the outskirts.

But before fixing that—

“Let’s start by changing your settings.”

“Settings?”

“Yes.”

Most VR games use running pads and motion detection for control.

Players physically move to control the game.

Because of this, VR gamers rarely gave much thought to their settings.

They’d just leave the default settings and play as they were used to moving.

But as someone from the mouse-and-keyboard generation, I found this approach incredibly inefficient.

Settings make a difference in skill. Everyone has an optimized configuration that suits them best.

VR games are no exception.

“Head to the practice range.”

“Okay.”

Following my instructions, Bunnyrun moved to the practice range.

I stood behind her and lightly guided her body.

“Huh?”

“Relax.”

“Okay.”

I grabbed Bunnyrun’s arm and gently moved it in a downward motion.

While watching her character on the monitor, I said,

“The sensitivity is too low. It makes precise control difficult.”

“You want me to increase the sensitivity? Won’t that make it harder?”

“You just need to tweak the detailed settings.”

By leaving the sensitivity of the running pad as it was and only increasing the sensitivity of the motion detection, it wouldn’t be too difficult.

“Are you sure it’s okay to mess with the sensitivity? Won’t it lower the accuracy?”

“With your control, Bunnyrun, it’ll be fine.”

Bunnyrun had impressive control skills.

Wasn’t it obvious, considering she was a Master-tier player with her game sense?

She could probably hold her own against Challenger-level players.

“Sis?”

“Reading someone’s mind counts as a psychic crime.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

Truthfully, increasing the running pad sensitivity would help as well, but Bunnyrun, despite her great figure, wasn’t particularly strong physically.

At best, she could finish a marathon, so the current setup was just right for her.

“How much should I increase the sensitivity?”

“That’s something we’ll need to adjust while playing.”

I had Bunnyrun pick a character and practice skill combos lightly.

“Stop for a moment.”

“Okay.”

I carefully adjusted her movements, guiding her at key points.

“Beyond just sensitivity, did you know that Eternal World has an optimized control method?”

“Really?”

“Pro players probably use it already, but I’ll help you learn it too.”

Even with the advanced motion detection in modern VR games, a game was still a game.

Mimicking real-life movements perfectly was often inefficient.

Minimal movement led to more precise play.

“Like this, and like this, then this.”

I guided Bunnyrun, holding her and moving her body step by step, like a puppet.

“……”

“Bunnyrun?”

“Huh?”

“Focus, even if it’s hard.”

“…I’m focused.”

Strange. It felt like she zoned out just now.

Maybe I imagined it.

“Are you getting the hang of it?”

“Sort of.”

“Try it yourself now.”

At my instruction, Bunnyrun began controlling the character on her own this time.

Her movements were noticeably more efficient.

When actions became more concise, they naturally linked to the next move faster.

This gave the effect of quicker reaction speeds.

The gap between amateur and pro players in games had always been significant, but it felt even more pronounced in the VR era.

While I only knew this because I put in a lot of effort, most amateurs wouldn’t figure out such subtle tricks on their own.

“Wow.”

Bunnyrun marveled, clearly feeling the difference from the adjustments.

It was a golden tip that wasn’t easy to learn elsewhere.

“Hehe.”

Both of us were satisfied with today’s progress.

“This is it, lol,” the chat buzzed.

The viewers seemed to enjoy the tips as well.

Thank you.