嗨!这是我和朋友游玩时的一些小想法

我们游玩丧尸世界时充满了紧张与刺激,建造和工程方面也是十分有趣,我和朋友们一起挖取矿物,收集资源,搭建庇护所,打造并设置武器陷阱,面对每一次血月尽可能生存下去。这些内容在游玩时,都是十分让人投入并感兴趣的。

直到有一天,我的朋友问我:“生存最后的意义(乐趣)呢?在游戏中,我们几乎每天都在获取物资的路上,然后在血月中生存下来,周而复始,闲下来的时间也只能走走看看,吃东西也是自顾自,没有家的感觉。是,没错,我们有了坚固的堡垒,有了庞大的农庄和木厂,我们不缺吃不缺喝不缺用,可是最终就会变得没意思。”

所以我就问他:“那你觉得呢?如何才能让游戏后期变得有趣?”

他打趣道:“这很难吧...况且这是游戏开发商该考虑的才对...不过,如果武器可以像制式武器那样,拥有真实的外观,各种配件又可以自己搭配组装,武器坏哪修哪,要比一个武器模型用到最后好玩一些。”

我提醒他:“但这是末日题材游戏啊,废土风格也没什么问题。”

他点了根烟向我解释说:“我知道,再怎么到了世界末日,制式装备该是那个外观就还是那个样子,我们可以用制式,也可以用它组装成各种各样的废土风武器,这样自由度也打开了。然后是吃饭,我们最后连农场木厂都有了,可是仍然用的碳火烤锅来做饭,像样的厨具都没有,游戏进行到大后期,消耗品越来越多,游戏里用的东西还是初期的样子,这不对。”

我觉得有道理:“但毕竟就是个游戏嘛,也不用太较真,玩一玩就得了。”

他往前靠了靠,手指着游戏画面对我说:“你看咱俩站在这个木屋里四眼相望,多呆啊,椅子我们有,可却坐不了,坐下躺下对于游戏制作方来说肯定不算啥吧,也不会跟其他什么起冲突。”

我笑了:“那倒是奥,这要是外面下着雨,咱俩人坐在这里烤串吃,或者整个桌子只个火锅咱俩涮羊肉,那多爽啊!你拿出青菜,我拿出羊肉片,放在桌子上我们都可以往里放菜,再喝点酒,想想就好玩。”

他收回手,也咧起嘴笑:“这是说在木屋里,如果咱俩在草地,雪山,沙漠支帐篷,然后半夜被僵尸袭击,那更好玩。”

我认真跟他说:“你再说说,还有什么想法,不行我写进官方论坛里。”

他摸着下巴想了想:“载具和可视距离也算吧,每次我采完矿开着飞机回基地,停机坪上的灯光都看不见,只有飞的特别近才显示,或许可以改文件数据实现,但是我们又不会。然后这个飞机太单一,如果能有一架直升机就最好了,首先它不像战斗机那样破坏游戏平衡,我们如果六个人玩,基地留两个人,我们四个在外面回不去,有血月或是僵尸群,那么军事电影中的桥段将会上演,我们的队友开着黑鹰直升机来接我们返航,飞机在空中盘旋,加特林在射击,最后返程途中又与变异飞行物缠斗,可能会坠毁,但至少增加了空中戏码,让飞机不再是运输工具。”

我听得心神往,别说那么多队友了,我们两个人也可以啊,驾驶位切换,一个人也可以把直升机玩的转,越想越觉得有趣,追问道:“那你还有什么想法?”

他拍了拍我肩膀道:“算了,这个游戏从大学玩到毕业,已经是十分优秀的作品了,想想就行了,你说的多了,那还不如再做一个游戏了。”




Exploring the zombie world filled us with tension and thrill, and the building and engineering aspects were incredibly fun too. My friends and I mined for ores, gathered resources, built shelters, crafted and set up weapon traps, fighting to survive each blood moon as best we could. Every part of this gameplay was utterly immersive and engaging.


Then one day, a friend asked me: “What’s the real point—the fun—of surviving in the end? In this game, we’re almost always out scavenging for supplies, just to make it through the next blood moon, and it’s the same cycle over and over. When we have free time, all we can do is wander around and take in the scenery. We eat alone, with no sense of home at all. Sure, we’ve got a solid fortress, a huge farm and a lumber mill; we never lack food, drink or supplies. But eventually, it all just gets boring.”


So I asked him: “What do you think, then? How can we make the late game fun again?”


He joked: “It’s a tall order... besides, that’s the game developers’ job, isn’t it? But hey, if the weapons could look like real standard-issue ones, and we could customize and assemble all kinds of attachments for them—even repair specific broken parts instead of using the same weapon model forever—it’d be a lot more fun.”


I reminded him: “But this is a post-apocalyptic game. The wasteland aesthetic isn’t a bad thing at all.”


He lit a cigarette and explained: “I get that. But even in the apocalypse, standard military gear still looks the way it’s supposed to. We could use the standard models as a base and mod them into all sorts of wasteland-style weapons—this way, the game’s freedom would open up even more. And then there’s eating. We’ve got a farm and a lumber mill by the end, yet we’re still cooking with a simple campfire and a pot, not a single proper kitchen utensil in sight. In the late game, we have tons of consumables, but the tools we use are still the same as the early game. That just doesn’t make sense.”


I had to agree: “But it’s just a game, right? No need to overthink it—we’re just here to have fun.”


He leaned forward, pointing at the game screen: “Look at us, just staring at each other in this wooden hut. It’s so dull. We’ve got chairs, but we can’t even sit on them. Adding sitting and lying down animations can’t be that hard for the devs, and it wouldn’t conflict with any other gameplay mechanics, either.”


I laughed: “You’re totally right. Imagine it’s raining outside, and we’re sitting here grilling skewers, or setting up a table with a hot pot to boil lamb slices together. How awesome would that be? You bring the veggies, I bring the lamb slices, we both drop them into the pot, and have a few drinks. It sounds amazing just thinking about it.”


He pulled his hand back and grinned too: “And that’s just in the hut. If we set up a tent in the meadows, on a snow mountain or in the desert, then get attacked by zombies in the middle of the night? That’d be even better.”


I got serious and said: “Keep the ideas coming. If they’re good, I’ll post them on the official forum.”


He stroked his chin and thought for a moment: “Vehicles and draw distance are big ones too. Every time I mine ore and fly back to the base in the plane, I can’t even see the lights on the tarmac—they only pop up when I’m super close. I guess you could tweak the game files to fix it, but none of us know how to do that. And the planes are so generic; a helicopter would be perfect. For one thing, it wouldn’t break the game balance like a fighter jet would. Say six of us are playing: two stay at the base, and the other four get stranded out in the wild with a blood moon or a zombie horde closing in. Then we could have a military movie moment—our teammates fly in a Black Hawk to extract us, the chopper hovers in the air, a minigun mows down zombies, and on the way back we fight off mutated flying creatures. We might even crash, but at least it’d add some aerial gameplay and make the aircraft more than just a transport tool.”


I was utterly captivated by the thought. We wouldn’t even need six players—just the two of us would be enough. Switching pilot seats, flying the helicopter solo and pulling off stunts... the more I thought about it, the more fun it sounded. I pressed him: “What other ideas do you have?”


He patted me on the shoulder and said: “Nah, forget it. We’ve been playing this game since college, all the way until we graduated. It’s already an amazing game as it is. This is all just wishful thinking. If we ask for too much, we might as well just make a whole new game ourselves.”
 
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