Chapter 271: A Game with Zero Difficulty
[This was the work that Employee 427 did day after day, year after year. While others thought this job was boring enough to drive a person mad, Stanley enjoyed every moment an instruction was given, as if he was born for this work.]
[Stanley was happy.]
As the camera pulled back, the screen went black again. This time, the game’s title, *The Stanley Parable*, appeared on the screen.
[But one day, something strange happened.]
[This event forever changed Stanley, leaving him with an unforgettable memory.]
The screen appeared again. This time, Stanley was still sitting in front of his computer, but completely motionless.
[He sat blankly in front of the monitor for a long time before realizing that an hour had passed, yet the screen hadn’t issued a single command.]
[No one came to explain, no one called him to a meeting, and no one even greeted him. In all these years, he had never encountered such a situation in the company—this state of being completely alone.]
The camera shifted to other workstations. The entire office was empty.
[Something must have gone wrong.]
[He was shocked, his body stiff. Stanley found that he had been sitting there motionless for a long time.]
[He regained his senses and awareness, stood up from his desk, and walked out of his office.]
As the narration continued, the camera slowly pulled back from the in-game computer screen. Zhao Lei realized that he could now control Stanley and start the game.
“What a strange beginning.”
Zhao Lei was a bit puzzled. He somewhat understood why Chen Mo said this game was suitable for him. Stanley in the game was very much like him—someone bound by work, seemingly happy and satisfied on the surface, but actually quite pitiful.
Just like Stanley’s job, operating a keyboard every day based on prompts on a screen—how was that any different from a machine? But Zhao Lei couldn’t help thinking about his own work. Though more complicated, how was it really different from Stanley pressing keys?
Zhao Lei shook his head, dispelling the strange associations in his mind. He used the mouse to control the character’s perspective, looking around.
The office had nothing in it. It was very cramped. The computer, the documents on the desk, the filing cabinets—none of them were interactive. After confirming this, Zhao Lei turned and walked out of the office.
All the labeled rooms were locked.
The narration continued.
[All of his colleagues were gone. What did this mean?]
[Stanley decided to check the meeting room. Maybe he had just missed the memo about the work schedule.]
Accompanied by a light yet slightly eerie background music, this narration, though odd, blended perfectly with the game. Zhao Lei felt no sense of dissonance at all, even subconsciously ignoring the fact that most games shouldn’t have such strange narration.
[Stanley arrived at two open doors. He walked through the left door.]
The narrator’s tone was very natural, as if stating something logical and inevitable. Zhao Lei didn’t think too much about it and subconsciously walked through the left door.
Next, the narrator guided Zhao Lei through the rest of the game process in meticulous detail.
He went to the meeting room—still empty. Then to the boss’s office—also empty.
Although there were a few branching paths along the way, Zhao Lei suppressed his curiosity and continued forward according to the guidance.
[After a brief shock and realization, the puzzled Stanley wanted to know who had orchestrated all of this, what dark secrets were being hidden from him.]
[But what he could never possibly know was that behind the boss’s desk, there was a secret keypad. This keypad guarded the terrible truth the boss had been hiding.]
[So, the boss set a super-secret code: 2-8-4-5.]
[But of course, Stanley couldn’t possibly know this.]
Zhao Lei quickly found the keypad. It wasn’t hidden at all. After entering the code as the narrator said, a hidden door opened in the boss’s office.
[Unbelievably, Stanley just randomly pressed a few keys and, by sheer luck, entered the correct code. Truly astonishing.]
Zhao Lei couldn’t help but feel the urge to complain.
What the hell? This keypad wasn’t hidden at all, and this code wasn’t complicated in the slightest!
He had thought this game was a puzzle game, but it was way too easy. It didn’t even count as a puzzle, did it? Just press a few numbers as the narrator said, and the mechanism opened?
Suppressing his urge to complain, Zhao Lei entered the hidden door.
[Stanley stepped into the newly opened passage.]
He arrived in an environment completely different from the office. It looked like some strange facility under construction. Taking a creaking, rickety elevator, he descended into the depths of the building.
After several turns, a large door appeared before him, with big words written on it: “Mind Control Facility.”
Inside this massive room, countless screens displayed images all around. Stanley pressed a button, activating all the displays on the screens.
The screens showed Stanley and his colleagues. All of them were being monitored, completely devoid of freedom.
Stanley arrived at the control core and found buttons for manipulating emotions: “Happiness,” “Sadness,” “Contentment,” and so on.
He went to the power control room and shut down the main power.
In the pitch-black darkness, a ray of light streamed in. What came into view was a scene of blue sky, white clouds, and green grass—a picture of freedom.
Accompanied by a soothing, gentle melody and the narrator’s praise, Stanley walked out of the power control room.
[Stanley felt the cool breeze brush against his skin. He felt a sense of relief, the infinite possibilities of a new path lying before him.]
[This was exactly what should have happened at this moment.]
[And Stanley was happy.]
With that, the game’s flow ended, returning to the initial title screen.
Zhao Lei was a bit dumbfounded. That was it? He had beaten it?
Sure, the story was somewhat educational, telling the tale of an employee seeking freedom, but it was way too simple!
And honestly, did this even count as a game?
Throughout the game, Zhao Lei had a persistent, lingering sense of unease. The strange scenes, the many branching paths, the seemingly meaningless narration—he kept feeling like this might be a horror game, that some sudden jump scare might appear and startle him.
But nothing happened. As long as he followed the game’s guidance, pressed a few buttons, he cleared it with such ease.
Zhao Lei was puzzled.
He glanced at Chen Mo, who was sitting nearby. Chen Mo wore an expression of “smiling without saying a word” the entire time.
Zhao Lei knew very well that there had to be a lot of content in this game that he hadn’t discovered yet. So, he started the game again.