Chapter 175: The High-Spirited High-Speeder: Torque Burst
Author’s Opening Note: I accidentally posted this under Inventoria... Sorry for the trouble.
My fighting game experience is largely composed of three trash games.
The first goes without saying: Berserk Online Passion, aka "Constipation." In that hellscape where you abandoned human form and fought like an inhuman monster, I learned to fight without human pride. Or rather, abandoning your humanity was the bare minimum starting line—so you could say I was proactively stripping away my humanity.
The second is Animal Fight Online… commonly known as "Gorilion Online." The concept was players turning into animals and fighting wild battles. But while that might work for a controller-based old-school game, this was full-dive—and despite being a game where you throw away your human body, the controls were abysmal in every respect. On top of that, it had dozens of playable characters, yet ninety-nine point nine percent of them were just worse versions of the lion. Balance was a disaster. Even after a patch nerfed it, the lion's throne remained unshaken. The meta filled with lions spamming a cat-punch infinite and gorillas that were weirdly strong only against lions. What a game. King of beasts bias? Sure. But why gorilla? I learned the way of beast combat in this Goril Lion game. At the time, I laughed bitterly, wondering where this would ever be useful. But now I can say it: it came in pretty damn handy.
And the third. A game with such a wildly bizarre system, a post-apocalyptic—no, Bakumatsu—level of ruthlessness that trampled human goodwill into a pulpy mess, scattered it in the soil, and tilled it, earning it the title of "Elite Loner Exclusive Game." Its name: Tsujigiri Capriccio: Online, commonly known as "Bakumatsu." An open-world sandbox where, regardless of player or NPC, the core was absurdly simple: the more you cut down, the higher your score.
Players are tossed into an open field modeled after Bakumatsu-era Edo with just a single katana. What greets them is a fiery baptism from veteran players lying in wait to spawn-camp new arrivals. Specifically, after being relentlessly spawn-killed until the veterans get bored, what awaits the player next is silent night raids by NPC manslayers. Specifically, until dawn. And so, without breaking, you continue to be hunted as the weak. But occasionally, the weak gather to gank a stronger player in heavenly retribution, then gank the Shogunate officials who respawn every week or so, then fight among themselves over loot distribution in a cannibalistic heavenly retribution, and while farming innocent town girls for heavenly retribution XP, players eventually learn to trust nothing but themselves and their weapon of choice. Before they know it, they're at the new player spawn point, camping alongside the very veterans who once spawn-killed them. That's the kind of game it is.
While everyone focuses on its insane Bakumatsu flavor, the truth is I learned a great deal from this game. One technique that proved especially useful in later trash-game conquests was exploiting the gaps in rhythm. NPCs have clear openings: the gaps between programmed actions, or the middle of performing some motion. Against players, openings are even more likely to appear in moments of carelessness. Think of it like a rest in music. The moment the tension clearly breaks—that's when you close in, draw your blade faster than the opponent can react, and cut them down. And sometimes get cut down yourself. There are other games where everyone besides yourself is essentially an enemy—Unite Rounds comes to mind—but you could say my PvP skills were honed in this game, which placed far greater weight on split-second exchanges.
I believe this "rhythm shifting" is an incredibly crucial factor in PvP. Feints, delays, and even attacking after the opponent are all included in this broad category, and the ambush skills I polished in Bakumatsu are no different. Sylvia Goldberg, like me, is the type who forces her rhythm onto her opponent. That rhythm is pounded in at ear-splitting volume, and most players get swallowed whole by it and beaten senseless—just like I was earlier. This is speculation, but Katzo and the other players who've put up a good fight against her probably studied that overwhelming rhythm Sylvia Goldberg imposes and shifted to a strategy built around countering it. It's not wrong—but given the fact that Sylvia Goldberg's undefeated record remains unbroken, it's also not the correct answer.
Sylvia Goldberg's strength lies in the fact that her rhythm—her tempo—is constantly updating. Like a hero awakening at the last possible moment, or a car shifting into an even higher gear, her rhythm changes. That means any counter-strategy you'd been maintaining has to be rebuilt from scratch. Most players lose at this point, unable to keep up with her new rhythm. So how do you defeat Sylvia Goldberg? This is where a fighting game fundamental comes into play. Fighting games are about converging options: narrowing your opponent's possible actions and forcing your own offense through. The best countermeasure against Sylvia Goldberg isn't a counter. It's not "attacking after"—it's "before the after." You force your own options on her first, then counter the one she picks. The reason she's so troublesome is that you never know when or from where an attack will come. A bird flitting about just needs to be put in a cage. To catch a shooting star that's too fast, you have to seize the initiative, not react.
Sylvia: "Gh—!"
No Face: "Hang in there, my inner ear—KICK!"
Overusing the super-pivot turn, I lift one leg and, spinning like a figure skater's camel spin, unleash a kick. It was one of the gorilla's gauge moves in Gorilion Online, the one that could unilaterally gain advantage only against lions. This kicking technique is just a pain to deal with regardless. After all, it's like an exposed-blade fan—get too close and your HP gets shaved off.
Sylvia: "Gh—what a nuisance... Who are you...!"
No Face: "Just a mercenary. Hired with money and food... see!"
My roaring steel leg smashes into Metius, sending her flying yet again—I've lost count of how many times. My own inner ear is taking no small amount of damage, but at this point, who has the advantage goes without saying. I shake my head to correct my wobbling equilibrium.
No Face: "I'm taking this round! Fly!"
Flames erupt from the mufflers sprouting all over my body, and the lights on my front cowl blaze to life. With a roar, Cursed Prison charges at Metius, cornered against the wall. She lacks the time to flee from her broken posture. The choices forced on her: intercept, or roll sideways to evade.
Sylvia: "Fine. I'll gift you this round."
And she chose to intercept.
Sylvia: "But the hero always wins in the end. Isn't that right, my arch-nemesis, Cursed Prison?"
No Face: "This isn't a comic. It's a game."
Collision. A character with speed but low durability could never tank a collision of huge mass without damage. Even so, her successful counter shaves off Cursed Prison's HP, yet Metius's HP hits zero. The carnivorous grin she wore just before shattering and fading was more than enough to foreshadow the ferocity of the next round... Hah, like I care. I'll make you eat dirt. Prepare yourself.
Announcer (broadcast): "The round has been taken back! No Face, with movements so different from the first round that they’re hard to even commentate, has knocked out Sylvia!"
Commentator (broadcast): "That was an incredible round... I see how absorbing the police motorcycle gave him mobility, but it was as if he forced delicate adjustments through those huge, sweeping moves..."
Announcer (broadcast): "We’d love to get a word with... Oh, Uomi, you’ve arrived!"
Kei: "Hahaha, that's rough... Hello, everyone."
With a troubled dip of his brows, Katzo waves to the camera with a gentle smile. Behind her mask, No Name's mouth hangs half-open in a "yeesh" expression. She's not one to talk, but that's quite the clean-cut mask he's wearing. If the same line had come from No Name or No Face, what spilled from their mouths would probably have been venom.
Announcer (broadcast): "No Face called himself a mercenary just now. What exactly did he mean?"
Kei: "Hmm, well, same goes for that nameless nobody over there... Basically, they're my friends. Some of our other members had schedule conflicts, so we brought them in as last-minute reinforcements."
No Name: "Calling a woman 'nameless nobody' is just cruel, don't you think?"
Kei: "Sorry, sorry. Nameless Nobodette, then."
This bastard just casually spat venom. No Name holds back the fist that almost flew on reflex and plasters a "ha ha, oh you" expression over her surface. For some reason, Megumi is looking back and forth between No Name's mask and her hands with a nervous expression. No Name tilts her head—she has no idea that her own fists, unconsciously clenched and on the verge of swinging, are the cause of that concern.
Announcer (broadcast): "Still, those two showed us a spectacular match... Might they be professional gamers?"
Kei: "That's part of the secret, I'm afraid. Makes it more mysterious, doesn't it?"
If No Face had been conscious and present here, he might have screamed, "That's way too many layers of mask!" at this sudden metamorphosis. But No Face is currently about to begin Round 3.
Announcer (broadcast): "Perhaps we’re about to witness an achievement no one has ever managed before..."
Kei: "No, no. No, no, no. If he can win, I could too... After all, I've got a seventy percent win rate against him."
Even though you lose almost every single time you fight him for the first time. No Name keeps that thought locked in her heart—her own small gesture of warrior's mercy. Will No Face, currently in the throes of a glorious rampage, even remember the original plan to "pass the baton to Katzo"?
Round 3 begins.