Actually.
Wren Lux had wanted to input “Resident Evil 7” directly, but after thinking it over, she deleted the “7” at the end.
Since prequels didn’t exist in this world, including the number would be meaningless.
As for the rating, she hesitated before filling in a C-rank—a standard, middle-of-the-road choice.
For the ticket price, she set it at 200 Survival Points.
For the genre, she chose horror, stealth, and survival.
[Instance Name: Resident Evil] [Self-Rating: C-Rank] [Ticket Price: 200 Survival Points] [Genre: Horror/Stealth/Survival] [Instance Theme: An Ordinary Person’s Courage — Players will take on the role of an ordinary person.
When facing the extreme terror, physical torment, and inhuman monsters of the Baker family, they must demonstrate psychological endurance and a will to survive that surpasses ordinary people.
The reason the player is willing to venture alone into this monster’s lair is simply to find their wife who has been missing for three years.
This conviction is the source of the player’s resistance against fear.
It is also the courage of an ordinary person facing terror for the sake of love.] Not long ago, while sitting by the river and contemplating how to survive, Wren Lux had noticed the Instance Constructor profession.
Right then and there, she had decided exactly what kind of instance she would create.
Although the original owner of this body had been shy and a bit of a shut-in, she still had a decent understanding of this gamified world.
After all, it wasn’t like she never left the house.
The young woman clearly remembered what society had been like when this catastrophe began four years ago.
It could be described in one word: extreme.
After all, the initial Survival Points everyone received upon gamification were converted directly from their remaining lifespan.
A forty-year-old with twenty years left to live would start with over 7,000 Survival Points.
Not to mention the younger generation.
Everyone had tens of thousands of Survival Points.
For the entire world, it was equivalent to an epic-scale hyperinflation of currency.
Most importantly, the system shop sold almost anything imaginable.
This led many to believe that Survival Points—and by extension, lifespan—were renewable.
They thought that as long as they kept grinding instances, they could live the high life indefinitely.
As a result.
High-risk challenges surged in popularity, and the overall social climate became increasingly extreme.
Ordinary people began frantically entering instances, attempting a massive number of unofficial, player-made ones.
They spent their lifespans to buy items from the shop or simply gambled on the odds…
‘I have over twenty thousand Survival Points anyway, what do I have to fear?’ Everyone thought this way.
Many even saw it as their chance to turn their lives around.
After all, the shop sold everything, and everyone started with roughly the same chips.
But with infinite resources, would the wealth gap really disappear?
Were everyone’s chips truly the same?
…Not even close.
Instance success rates, decision-making skills, risk tolerance, intelligence, courage, and information asymmetry…
all of these factors still created massive disparities.
The strong only grew stronger, while the losers sank deeper and deeper until they died.
It didn’t take long for society to devolve into an amplified form of social Darwinism.
No one was an ordinary person anymore.
All of humanity was forced to become professional players.
Grow, or be eliminated.
And the latter category was evidently much larger.
Perhaps that was the goal of whatever god had done this.
But it was truly terrible…
Because the shop provided an infinite supply of goods, the only truly scarce resources left were Survival Points and personal ability.
The overall strength of the human race rapidly increased.
However, this forced the game’s difficulty to scale up exponentially; otherwise, the instances would be farmed to oblivion.
During this period, just how many ‘weaklings’ exhausted their Survival Points and died in silence?
No one even kept track.
This extreme trend lasted for quite some time, only slowly reversing when the death toll reached unimaginable heights and the government finally managed to catch its breath.
Fortunately, the real-world production systems within the country hadn’t been completely abandoned during the extreme chaos of the early stages.
There were always some level-headed people around.
As state power was rebuilt, real-world production systems began operating again—factories, logistics, agriculture…
The weak finally had a way to survive, which barely managed to steer the social climate back on track.
Along with it, the rationality of the players—or rather, the general public—also returned.
The majority of ordinary people finally stopped mindlessly throwing themselves into high-risk challenges.
The main reason was that after so many years, most people had nearly depleted their Survival Points…
Nowadays, the entry tickets for high-difficulty instances cost thousands of points, and the clear rates were abysmally low.
For most ordinary people, entering such instances was practically throwing their Survival Points away.
Therefore, very few reckless fools dared to dive straight into high-difficulty instances anymore.
Now, the most popular instance types among ordinary people were solo instances that could be cleared through endurance or evasion.
These stealth and survival instances boasted the highest clear rates.
The [Lone Wolf] instance was a prime example.
Sitting by the river, Wren Lux had brainstormed around the keywords ‘stealth’ and ‘survival,’ and the first thing that came to mind was Resident Evil 7.
It was the game praised for returning the Resident Evil franchise to its survival horror roots.
The main reason she chose this game was simple: Wren Lux lacked confidence.
She had no idea how the instances in this inexplicable world actually worked.
She didn’t want to eke out a living by watching ads.
If she wanted to earn Survival Points quickly and grab people’s attention, her only option was to choose a genre that heavily stimulated human emotions: horror games.
At the very least, she personally felt it would generate some discussion.
As for Resident Evil 7, although the game had its flaws overall, the sheer terror it delivered was truly on par with the peak of the Resident Evil series.
The horror atmosphere was crafted brilliantly.
Playing hide-and-seek with powerful enemies kept both mind and body in a constant state of tension.
Every jump scare was enough to make a person’s heart stop.
More importantly, it was a game born alongside the VR craze, and Wren Lux just so happened to have played the VR version.
She felt that her experience playing the VR version—the experience of truly being immersed in that terror—would help her construct a sufficiently immersive instance.
This would give her a higher chance of obtaining exclusive constructor rewards.
The secondary reason was the game’s protagonist: Ethan Winters.
Wren Lux really liked this character.
As an ‘ordinary man’ distinct from the other superhumans in the Resident Evil universe, his experiences in the seventh installment and his ending in the eighth had left a significant emotional impact on her.
He carried a desperate desire to save his wife and daughter.
Despite his fear, anxiety, and terror, he forged ahead relentlessly.
In the end, his love for his family shone brilliantly, even through the gloom of death.
The world was different now, but Wren Lux believed that emotional impact was universal.
And emotional impact was also a crucial element of an instance.
It had been four years since reality was gamified, and many rules of thumb had been summarized.
One of them was about emotions.
Rumor had it that most players who obtained skills or items in an instance…
had experienced massive emotional fluctuations or had been deeply moved by the plot during their run.
In short, they had fully immersed themselves in the role.
Therefore, high-ranking players generally believed that as long as the instance itself was excellent and their immersion was high enough, clearing it would usually reward them with certain skills or items.
At the very least, they would receive stat points.
The solemn prompt in the theme-filling section served as further proof of this.
And Resident Evil 7…
the immersion should be high enough.
At least, Wren Lux felt it was quite high.
What if it really could grant certain skills to the players who cleared it?
Even if they weren’t particularly powerful, it would still help promote her instance.
After all, the term ‘unofficial instance’ inherently came with a debuff.
It definitely needed a solid selling point.
Of course, she wouldn’t know the specifics until she actually got her hands dirty and constructed the instance.
“I hope it’s not too complicated.
I don’t have much time left.” Wren Lux glanced at her Survival Points and furrowed her delicate brows.
She clicked submit, sending the basic information of the instance to the system.
The moment she submitted it, a new window popped up.
[Would you like to enter the Construction Space?] [Yes] Wren Lux’s figure instantly vanished.