The world watching the battle through the screens erupted with millions of comments. There were heated debates on the forums, in which injustice and imbalance were discussed. But one thing was clear: This battle went down in the history of Versailles as a symbol of the struggle between money and honesty.
The defeat in the Ashar Valley was a turning point not only for the "honest players", but also for the entire world of Wirsal. It wasn't just a loss—it was the destruction of hope, the last symbol of resistance. The guilds that had been considered invincible until recently were crushed. Their leaders, accustomed to fame and respect, faced a new feeling for themselves — utter despair. And with that, the faith of millions of players collapsed.
The chat rooms were filled with complaints, and the forum topics were filled with bitterness and hatred towards the developers. "We fought as hard as we could, but it was pointless!", "This game is no longer for us", "Wirsal is now a game for the rich, not for real players!" — such messages flashed everywhere. Even the most devoted fans began to think about leaving the game, which had become their second home, but now turned out to be ruthless to their efforts.
The game world was empty. The fields that once thundered with battles were now quiet. Guild castles stood abandoned, their halls echoing the footsteps of rare visitors. Even in the central squares, where life was always in full swing, you could only hear the whisper of the wind.
Players have been leaving en masse for other virtual reality games. Even those projects that were considered low-quality clones of Virsal began to experience a real boom. Companies that had previously been struggling to make ends meet were now drowning in a flood of new users. Their servers, which were not designed for such an influx, broke down and overloaded, but this did not stop anyone.
The directors of small and large companies that once tried to compete with Versailles literally celebrated every new day. They saw thousands of players joining them, and immediately started launching promotions and bonus programs to consolidate their success.
"Welcome to the new world!" Banners read, offering unique kits for beginners. Each player received a starter kit of weapons, equipment, and resources. The developers did not skimp: free premium accounts, accelerated pumping, unique skins - all this was generously distributed to new users.
There was unrestrained laughter at the directors' meetings.
"It's unbelievable! Those idiots from Versailles gave us such a gift!" — one of them was saying, waving a graph with numbers that were rapidly creeping up. - "The players are coming to us as if we were the best game in the world! Even though our attack animations are still jerky!"
- "Servers need to be expanded urgently! They can no longer withstand the influx. We can't afford to lose this flow!" — another added, looking at the blinking red numbers of connection errors.
They even started hiring bloggers and streamers to promote their games. The popular players who had left Virsal were now becoming the faces of new worlds. Their interviews, where they criticized the "platinum system," have garnered millions of views.
- "I was in the top 50 of the Virsal server, but there is no place for people like me anymore. Now I'm here, and believe me, this game can become your new home," said the former leader of one of the famous guilds in an advertisement for a new VR game.
Meanwhile, the situation at the Virsal Corporation was as follows. Despite the cries of the loyal fans, the management of the corporation remained indifferent. Until one indisputable truth forced them to act: the revenue charts went down due to the massive withdrawal to other games. The company did not expect that the departure of players would be so large. The number of active players began to decrease rapidly. Those who had been building their guilds, creating legends, and immersing themselves in this virtual world for years began to leave the game en masse. It was a wake-up call that even Anderson Maestro couldn't ignore.
Under public pressure and in an effort to retain the remnants of loyal players, the corporation announced an update. "We have heard you," the official statement said hypocritically. The platinum buffs that initially destroyed the balance have been slightly weakened. Now their influence on the course of the battle had decreased, and they no longer ensured an unconditional victory. The balance has become more or less normal. But the sediment remained.
It's too late, Silent thought, watching this farce. None of those who left were in a hurry to return. After all, the most important thing was lost: faith in justice.
And yet the game continued to exist. Not because of its innovative system or because of the efforts of the developers. The main reason why players clung to Virsal was a simple and bitter realization: there was no alternative, or rather there was, but these were rather cheap clones.
The MMORPG market was a desert. The contenders for the throne who appeared from time to time quickly burned out, unable to withstand the competition. Some offered innovations, but they could not create the sense of immersion that was in Virsal. Others relied on graphics, but forgot about working out the mechanics.
Silent knew that better than anyone. He tried to find a replacement himself, looking for the same intensity of the battles, the same sense of community that once forced him to return to the game day after day. But I haven't found anything like it anywhere.
"We're not here because we want to be," he once told his partner. "We're here because we have no other choice."
These words became true for thousands of players trapped in a world they no longer loved but couldn't leave. Virsal was no longer home. But he remained the last island in the ocean of hopelessness. Returning from thinking about those events, Silent, who was still sitting by the lake, logged out of the game.