Conquering the Tower Even Regressors Couldn't - Chapter 97: Twenty-Fourth Floor, Kokkari Swamp (3)

The Overlord, Kang Chul-In. The man who was so strong that he had to be defeated. Having lost, he must now go back in time to take up the challenge of becoming The Emperor in the Continent of Pangaea. Will Kang Chul-In be able to overcome the 9 other Overlords in order to grasp the Continent of Pangaea within his hands?

Chen Xu traveled to the parallel world, and was surprised to find that many classic and excellent games in the previous life did not appear in the parallel world.I wanted to make a big picture, but why did I still have an ’emotion collection system’, and the emotions such as happiness, sadness, excitement, fear, anger and other emotions provided by players who have played games made by themselves can make them stronger?But why is it so much easier to get resentment than happiness?Looking at his points harvest, Chen Xu expressed puzzlement.As a result, Chen Xu’s career as a game designer gradually turned crooked.In “Under the Legend”, countless players beat the table and shout: I was played by this game!In “Escape”, countless players shouted, my cabinet moved, and I stopped playing.In “Dark Souls”, when countless players entered the game with a smile, “Go away, please go away, leave the fire girl behind and go out with your fire, we don’t want to spread this fire!”Soap, Xiaoqiang, and Ghost sacrificed in “Call of Duty”; Zack was killed and Alice was killed in “Final Fantasy 7”; Arthur and John were betrayed in “Red Dead Redemption”;Countless players went berserk: Nima Chen Xu old thief, can’t we be kinder to the protagonist?Q: How do I feel about players’ anger towards themselves?Facing the reporter’s question, Chen Xu smiled slightly: What kind of verbal criticism is this, this is the encouragement of players around the world to me, this is love! Thank you all, I will keep up the good work!

This book is about baby-making.

I am Racist.…I mean, my name is Racis T.I was a stand-up comedian. The flop kind. The type who only got laughs when someone else was roasting him.One night, I was doing a gig at a shady, run-down bar—the kind where tattooed bikers drink motor oil for breakfast. I went in with my usual dark humor, but my jokes were getting the same reaction as my dating profile: complete silence.That didn’t sit right with my inner artist, who was already starving to death. So I did what any committed comedian would—I went darker.Turns out, one of my jokes (or all of them?) triggered a guy so hard that he pulled a trigger. Headshot. Instant death.But hey, look at this: A guy got triggered, so he pulled the trigger. That’s wordplay. But who cares? I’m dead anyway.All I wanted was a successful show, people laughing, and maybe a few girls swooning over my wit. I never cared about money. The millions I’d have made would have gone to charity—specifically, 0.001% of it. See? I’m generous like that.Anyway, death is death. My story should’ve ended there.But… if there is an afterlife, I had a simple wish: become a successful comedian, find a loving wife, and have just enough money to afford three meals a day… and maybe a humble little private yacht. Or a jet. But that’s it. Because, like I said, I don’t care about money.Unfortunately, wishes don’t work that way.Because, well—there was an afterlife.And it was absolutely not what I wished for.