This Game Is Too Real
Chapter 359 "Survivor’s Daily

Chapter 359: Chapter 359 "Survivor’s Daily

Street 97 was located in the west area of Giant Stone City where sewage flowed openly, air pollution was rampant, and clusters of dilapidated tube buildings crowded together, often criticized by nearby residents as "the crow’s nest."

Due to its proximity to the giant wall, residents could only enjoy the sunlight in the morning and at noon.

By dusk, the streets would be enveloped in the shadow of the giant wall.

Objectively speaking, if one could overlook the lack of sunlight, life here was still much better than in the slums outside the wall.

Most of the people living here were workers from nearby factories.

Except for local residents, few people wanted to come close to this area.

There were almost no entertainment activities, and hardly anyone would open a shop among a group of paupers.

Those with jobs needed to work sixteen hours and would go straight to sleep when they got home; those without jobs, even if they idled away an entire day, wouldn’t spend a coin from their pocket.

But there were exceptions.

At the border with the industrial area, there was a bar named "Walnut Tavern." Its iconic sign was a pile of empty walnut wooden barrels at the entrance.

These barrels were not big and could be used as tables or stools, and even for dealing with sanitary issues.

When workers finished their day’s work and passed by, they would occasionally pull out a chip given by the foreman, drink a large, cheap draft beer, forget the day’s troubles, and then head home.

Some unemployed workers would also spend their entire day here.

Though financially embarrassed, it was still better to smell the beer or inhale some second-hand smoke.

After all, it was better than sitting at home listening to a nagging old wife lamenting how life was unbearable.

Since hardly any mercenaries came here, foreign travelers and merchants wouldn’t come close to the west area,

Over time, this place had become a club for the workers of Giant Stone City.

They did more than just drink; they also gathered in groups to discuss household matters or listen to gossip,

Especially gossip from the factory district.

What people looked forward to the most was hearing about factories that were short on workers, but such news hadn’t surfaced for a long time.

Suddenly, a scruffy unemployed worker spoke up,

"...why don’t we become mercenaries?"

A co-worker, who had been fired from the canning factory like him, glanced at him.

"Have you ever touched a gun?"

"No, but I heard it’s not hard. Turn off the safety, aim the muzzle, then pull the trigger to shoot the hot metal fragments into a corpse-eater’s brain," the scruffy worker demonstrated the shooting action with a broom by the barrel, "Look, it’s that simple."

Everyone burst into laughter.

"The Tide won’t be coming until next year; now it’s summer, and your likely opponents are the Looters."

"I heard that List’s Commercial Team is hiring; they’re planning to open a new trade route from here to the Grand Canyon."

"The Grand Canyon, huh... I heard it’s at the farthest north of River Valley Province."

"It’s really far."

By the door beam, a group of workers gathered, taking turns puffing on a nearly finished cigarette stub.

Spielberg couldn’t help but take an extra puff and, realizing everyone was staring at him, quickly passed the cigarette to the next friend.

Taking a puff from the cigarette stub, Pike, with his arm wrapped in a bandage, suddenly spoke,

"Speaking of which, have we seen Kent lately?"

"I don’t know, last time he led us in surrounding the town hall, seeing those well-dressed bastards scared pale was damn satisfying!"

"It’d be nice to do that again."

Since they had nothing else to do, causing a stir on the streets might even bring them some benefits.

At that moment, the portly bar owner, holding a large wooden frame, came out from the junk room beside the bar.

His name was Tang, a very short word in United Human language with only one syllable.

Seeing this group of idle paupers, Tang couldn’t help but complain,

"How long do you plan to loiter here? If you have no money, can’t you go find some work?"

The worker smoking laughed and said,

"We’d like to work too. Do you need a janitor or bartender here? Someone to run errands?"

Tang chuckled and said unapologetically,

"Why would I hire big men who have neither tits nor ass to do menial work?"

Another burly man raised his hand, smiling cheekily,

"Then are you hiring a wife? I’d like to sign up."

"Get lost," Tang cursed.

Recently, Walnut Tavern was also struggling.

The number of paupers was increasing, and they even had to share cigarette stubs, not to mention spending chips on drinks.

Spielberg suddenly noticed that the old girl who helped with pouring drinks and the young boy who did odd jobs had been fired.

Now, even the physical work was done by the owner himself.

At this time in the past, the fat pig was always dozing off lazily behind the bar.

At this moment, Spielberg noticed the wooden frame he was holding and the stack of papers inside it, and curiously asked.

"What is this?"

"Survivor’s Daily." Tang moved it into the bar with a grunt.

Survivor’s Daily?

Everyone exchanged glances; none of them had ever heard the name.

Of course, it might be because they didn’t read newspapers.

Although most workers were literate, they essentially recognized just a few characters—enough to understand device handbooks and job postings.

Workers who could afford newspapers didn’t have time to read them.

Reading newspapers was a pastime reserved for high-ups seated in offices.

"How much is this thing?"

"It’s free, you can take a look, but you can’t take it away," Tang said impatiently.

These newspapers were provided for free by the Survivor’s Daily newspaper office, accompanied by a crate of Nuclear Cola each month.

Since it didn’t take up much space and could entertain the drinkers, following the principle of never missing out on a freebie, he brought it back.

"For free?!"

Upon hearing this, everyone was shocked.

Good deals like this existed?

What surprised them even more was that such words were coming from Tang, the tight-fisted miser.

Spielberg stepped forward, took a newspaper from the wooden frame, and unfolded it in his hands.

Pike, who was smoking, also threw away the cigarette butt that had finally burned out and curiously gathered around to watch.

"..."

"The city hall’s negotiations with the New Alliance authorities went smoothly, and a two hundred million aid loan will aim for a win-win for both sides... What is ’win-win’?"

"I just want to smash the New Alliance’s factory into pieces! Throw their junk out of the giant wall!"

"But being their debtor doesn’t seem too bad... The Kate Textile Factory is resuming work, according to the newspaper, because they received an order worth a million chips."

"Alyssa has lost a Southland shorthair cat; if anyone sees it, please contact the address on the newspaper, reward of 25 chips... Alyssa... that name sounds familiar."

"I remember now... it’s the little daughter of the bank president, Melvin!"

There were no entertainment industries or celebrities in Giant Stone City; the feature performer of Night Queen Bar and the relatives of high officials were the main subjects of gossip for most ordinary people.

As for the bank president, Melvin, everyone naturally knew him, considering there was only one bank in Giant Stone City.

Hearing the name of this important person, everyone quickly snapped to attention, their eyes filled with envy.

"... It’s the banker’s daughter."

"Whoever could marry her wouldn’t have worries in the next life."

"Stop dreaming; it’s not even dark yet."

"25 chips for a cat... That’s enough to buy 25 kilograms of nutrient paste! Are these people too rich with nowhere to spend their money?"

"You don’t get it, I think it’s a bargain!"

"Ah, it must be nice to have money..."

The crowd around the newspaper was abuzz with chatter.

Although the reward of 25 chips was tempting, no one actually took action to find it.

Giant Stone City was so large, where would they even start looking for a cat?

Not to mention, it was uncertain whether the cat was still within the giant walls.

The crowd excitedly discussed the gossip, but Spielberg’s attention was caught by the last line on the newspaper.

"We aim to create a newspaper that serves all survivors. If you are reading this at a public newspaper stand, please leave your valuable suggestions on it, which we will refer to after collection."

A newspaper that serves all survivors?

Hah.

That was rare indeed.

Although everyone was a survivor living on the same Wasteland, Spielberg faintly felt that people were different.

Some were born with a silver spoon in their mouths, while others lived like cockroaches from birth.

Take Miss Alyssa, for instance.

What did the Wasteland matter to her?

She probably hadn’t even seen nutrient paste, let alone tasted it.

After hesitating for a moment, Spielberg borrowed a pen from the bar owner and wrote at the bottom of the newspaper.

"We are really interested in what the city hall is doing."

"The banker’s daughter’s cat depresses me; when I still had a job, 25 chips were my ten days’ wages."

"... It would be nice if you could publish more information about jobs."

"I wish you a pleasant life."

After writing this, he returned the pen to the bar owner.

Just then, Spielberg suddenly remembered something mentioned in the newspaper—that ten empty cola bottles could be exchanged for a newspaper to take home.

He couldn’t help but think, maybe once it was completely dark, he should head over to the bar street and pick up empty Coke bottles.

Swapping them for a newspaper to bring back for his son to learn to read wouldn’t seem like a total waste of a day...

...

Such thoughts were not unique to Spielberg.

These past few days around the taverns In Boulder City, the number of "Scavengers" collecting empty bottles had increased.

empty Coke bottles could be exchanged for a copy of "Survivor’s Daily", even if they weren’t used for reading but rather to line tabletops or to spread upon beds.

As for where this "Survivor’s Daily" had come from, no one seemed interested.

After all, it had only recently launched its first issue, and its notability was incredibly low,

so low that the factory owners, the business association heads, and the city hall officials in Boulder City would never notice...

That night.

Bank manager Melvin returned to his luxurious home on the inner edge, his demeanor vibrant.

The negotiations with the City of Dawn had gone well, and the opposing party had presented an impressive procurement list, including a large batch of building materials, textiles, and food.

It would create at least 50,000 jobs in Boulder City and solve hunger for nearly 100,000 people.

By this time next year, Boulder City’s GDP was sure to hit a new high!

The interest paid by the New Alliance and the raw materials flowing in from the "North Suburb" would revive the factories in the industrial district!

What pleased Melvin most was that recently, many factories had also started taking loans from him.

Where some borrowed money for consumption, others were willing to borrow to expand production—his bank could make money from both ends.

And almost without the risk of bad debts!

Boulder City had entered a new cycle, and he felt as though he could already see the dawn of economic recovery!

"You seem to be in a good mood today, did something good happen?" his wife asked as she took his coat.

"Of course," Melvin said animatedly, "after dragging on for so many days, the negotiations have finally concluded. The New Alliance’s representative signed the agreement, and our relationship with the New Alliance is set to enter a new Chapter!"

Though the negotiations had been full of twists and turns, thanks to his witty performance at the negotiation table where he firmly held the pacing, he had eventually forced the New Alliance’s representative to make concessions, allowing both parties to reach an agreement.

"But... is lending money to those yokels really okay?" his wife asked, looking worried.

In her eyes, those outside The Wall were either crude mercenaries, sloppy scavengers, or thieving looters.

She found it hard to trust them.

Even them merely looking her way made her skin crawl and physically uncomfortable.

Melvin’s face bore a confident smile.

"What could go wrong? They have copper mines, farms, and vast forests... I actually wish those yokels would borrow a bit more."

"Debt will turn them into our slaves, which is far more effective than shackles."

At that moment, he suddenly noticed the newspaper on the table.

Surprisingly, the front page headline announced the successful progress of the negotiations.

Melvin curiously raised an eyebrow.

The negotiations had just concluded today, and it was only two hours ago that the New Alliance’s representative reluctantly signed the loan agreement, and neither party had yet made an official announcement.

How did this obscure newspaper guess that the deal would definitely succeed today?

Right on target.

It couldn’t possibly have been printed a few hours ago.

"What’s this?"

"Survivor’s Daily."

Alyssa, sitting on the couch gently stroking her cat, lifted her head at her father’s question and responded softly.

"Do we subscribe to this paper?" Melvin asked, perplexed.

Alyssa gently shook her head.

"No, but I find it quite interesting... Remember when I lost a cat recently?"

Melvin couldn’t recall which one; his daughter had too many cats.

Seeing her father seemingly forget about it, Alyssa continued gently.

"That time you told me you had instructed the butler to post a notice at the bar, and that it wouldn’t be long before a mercenary would bring it back."

"It seems that happened... what happened after that?" Melvin asked, his expression slightly embarrassed.

It appeared that the cat hadn’t been found, and he had prematurely promised his daughter.

But the considerate Alyssa didn’t blame him and continued in a soft tone.

"After that, the mercenary didn’t show up, but this newspaper, through the notice at the bar, contacted me. They offered to publish an ad for free to help find the cat. All I had to do was write them a thank you letter once little Black was found."

Melvin chuckled after hearing this.

Was this an attempt to leverage his daughter’s fame to boost the paper’s visibility?

These folks had quite the business acumen.

In Boulder City’s upper-class society, his daughter’s name was worth much more than a few chips.

However, such a small matter wasn’t worth his attention; he simply showed concern for his daughter for a moment.

"If only we could find it."

"Yeah."

Alyssa stroked the kitten in her arms, her eyes filled with worry, "I’m really worried it might be hungry."

At the same time,

Not far from the warehouse district, a standalone building had a sign that read "Voice of the Alliance."

From that brand-new nail, it was evident that the sign had just been hung up.

Contrary to the quiet entrance, the newspaper office inside was bustling with activity.

Especially for Hal, who was the president of the newspaper, he had been busy from morning until dusk without a rest, wishing he could clone himself.

In fact, that was indeed the case.

Since the newspaper had just been established and was short-staffed, he had to multitask, responsible not only for the content and layout of the newspaper but also for handling relations with the outside world.

The reason for this started three days ago in the afternoon.

Per the Manager’s instructions, the New Alliance needed its own channel of communication.

However, due to a lack of manpower at the New Union’s Office in Stone City, Shu Yu and Luka discussed it, and this significant task fell to Hal.

The trust from the New Alliance flattered Hal.

Although he wanted to repay these people for saving and sheltering him and to prove his capabilities, he had never run a newspaper and didn’t even know what a newspaper really entailed.

Fortunately, Shu Yu didn’t just dump all the work on him. He went to the talent market and found some employees who had worked at the "Voice of Giant Stone City," which made his job busy but manageable.

"Survivor’s Daily" was their first product, mainly distributed on the outskirts of Giant Stone City.

They printed 1200 copies for the first issue, distributed in relatively low-budget pubs, grocery shops, and mobile vendors.

These newspapers were printed in a local printing plant in Giant Stone City, and with a print run under ten thousand, the production cost per copy was about 0.5 chips.

If labor, rent, and utilities were included, their total expenses for the day reached thousands of chips.

As for income, that was not a concern for now.

The newspapers were essentially provided for free to their partners.

Each newspaper had a retail price of one chip, and if sold, after deducting the partners’ profits, they could only recover the cost of printing the newspapers.

To promote these newspapers, they also gave away fifty-six crates of nuclear cola!

But all these efforts were worth it.

Upstairs in the meeting room of the newspaper office, Hal gathered the six editors they had and discussed the suggestions left by readers on the newspapers to plan the content for the next issue.

Suddenly, the door to the meeting room was pushed open, and a rushed staff member entered.

"Good news! 600 out of the 1200 newspapers have been sold!"

Hearing this, many faces around the meeting table relaxed, showing signs of happiness.

Being able to sell half under conditions where reading was free was quite an accomplishment for a new newspaper with no prior reputation.

At least it meant there was nothing wrong with their content.

The staff member paused for a moment before continuing.

"...But the bad news is, we didn’t earn a penny; we only recovered 120 chips and over three thousand empty bottles."

Hearing this latter part, the editors around the table exchanged glances.

"...Maybe we can make some money by selling these bottles," one editor suggested in a low voice, looking at the chairman of the newspaper.

It’s not easy to find a job these days.

Especially since newspapers are not essential commodities.

He was really worried that he might lose the job he had finally found.

Seeing the concern in everyone’s eyes, Hal stood up at the meeting table and reassured everyone with an enthusiastic voice,

"Don’t worry about the losses; making a profit isn’t our goal! We only need to do one thing right now, and that is to make a name for ourselves quickly!"

"I’ve carefully reviewed the feedback, and the name ’Survivor’s Daily’ is still too vague, the content not specific enough!"

"The people sitting in offices aren’t interested in which factory’s production line is short of workers, and the workers of Giant Stone City don’t care what the star of the Night Queen is wearing today."

"I think aside from ’Survivor’s Daily’, we should establish ’Worker Report’, ’Citizen Post’, ’Playboy Post’, etc., targeting different customer groups with different content!"

"Since the ’Voice of Giant Stone City’ has taken over the upper echelon of Stone City, let’s venture into territories they have never touched and open up new battlefields!"

While saying these words, Hal felt every cell in his body boiling, his eyes gleaming with excitement and ambition.

If this plan could be implemented, the newspapers he founded would occupy every minute of the Giant Stone City residents’ spare time, his written words read repeatedly by hundreds of thousands of people.

And he would become the "uncrowned king" of this city!

It had been so long since he had experienced something this exciting.

As he painted this stunning vision, faces around the room showed amazement.

An editor couldn’t help but ask,

"Do we have that much budget?"

Hal confidently responded,

"There’ll be a way! Didn’t our boss say so? The Alliance won’t skimp on investing in the cultural industry!"

"Besides, we’ve just obtained a loan of 200 million chips; we’ve got to spend that money somewhere, right?"

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