```
It is said that many people play scripted murder games not only to enjoy the process of deduction and solving cases but also to relish in acting themselves.
Thus, some offline scripted murder games even offer an immersive experience similar to certain shows, where everything from the environment to the costumes aligns perfectly with the script, all for the sake of giving customers the thrill of time-traveling through acting.
Even though their acting might be awkward, this doesn't hinder their enjoyment.
Xu Shuo opened the script for "Rainy Night Villa." Then, the interface turned into a loading screen like that of a video player, followed by the title of the play, and the introduction of characters to the background of music.
The post-production special effects and craftsmanship appeared surprisingly professional.
Seeing his own chef character's illustration, Xu Shuo felt a somewhat embarrassed.
After the opening sequence, the manor located halfway up the mountain appeared on screen. In the stormy, dark night, the villa in the deep mountains stood isolated, its lights flickering on and off through the darkness.
Then, the camera zoomed in, entering the villa.
Six individuals sat in the villa's hall: the Mysticist, the Photographer, the Painter, the Lost Couple, and the Chef.
These few, who had a rather eerie atmosphere about them, sat on the sofa, their faces stern as they talked about something. As the sound drew nearer, it became clear that what they were discussing was this very scripted murder game.
Was this really the game they had played?
Xu Shuo was a bit surprised. Though watching himself act seemed a bit embarrassing, it was still acceptable to him.
The camera captured everyone's performance from all angles, from the players gathering to Mr. Guo's death at the dining table. Whether it was the camera cuts or the background music and atmospheric rendering, everything exuded a professional and sophisticated air.
A group of amateurs with exaggerated yet nervous acting was somehow made to feel like a blockbuster film.
Post-production must have been tough!
Xu Shuo, feeling embarrassed, turned his attention from the video playback window and suddenly noticed that the player had all the usual functions and even a bullet screen feature.
Bullet screen?
Xu Shuo tentatively clicked on the bullet screen, and suddenly several dense comments shot across the right side of the screen. From the language and tone of their comments, it seemed as if real people were watching.
Not robots?
[Coming to see Little White Sister!]
[Little White Sister's character is so cute this time~]
Once a script is completely withdrawn, it will no longer be available for other players to perform, and it will also become "locked" and unviewable in one's personal list of performed scripts.
But obviously, this isn't the first time something like this has happened in the square, so people were less surprised about a script being withdrawn and more curious about the question of "why was this particular script withdrawn?"
The thread had already built up to several thousand comments, which showed the high level of everyone's enthusiasm.
Xu Shuo casually flipped through a few pages, but as he was still half-clueless about the Script Space and the Player's Handbook, his reading was equally half-baked.
However, he understood two things: the Scripted Murder Game he had just entered had experienced some problems.
Second, even though there were issues, he still passed it.
Then there's no problem!
Xu Shuo hung around the square for a good while longer before he finally remembered that he should get up and out of bed.
He didn't find any option to exit the game in the Player's Handbook, so he thought for a moment and silently chanted "leave" in his mind; the next moment, the white space before his eyes gradually darkened until everything went black.
...
When Xu Shuo opened his eyes again, he was met with an off-white ceiling, its corners marred with some grey and black stains.
He paused, detecting the scent of something burnt in the air.
Xu Shuo sat up from the sofa and glanced at the thin blanket covering him, then turned to look toward the kitchen, where a girl with low twin ponytails was managing a pan with her back to him.
The kitchen was filled with a waft of blue smoke, which the range hood couldn't disperse.
"You know, you could have ordered takeout," Xu Shuo said.
"..."
The girl's figure stiffened for a moment, then she turned around with a blank expression and said, "Takeout isn't healthy."
Xu Shuo glanced at the time—it was almost one in the afternoon. He pushed aside the thin blanket, got up, and offered, "Let me do it."
Xu Xi decisively handed over the kitchen to him, including the burnt pan, which had some strange, blackened stuff stuck to the bottom, looking like something from a crematorium.
The faint whiff of potato—did she turn potato strips into scorched rice?
Xu Shuo poked at the mysterious charred mass on the bottom, scraped off the potato mash lumped together with a putty knife, revealing a layer of what resembled coal.
Xu Xi sat up straight on the sofa, deep in thought, hesitant to interrupt the clanging and banging from the kitchen. She originally wanted to ask something, but now she didn't dare to.
Never mind, she'll ask next time.