Agreeing to Create Bad Games, What the Hell Is ‘Titanfall’? Chapter 78
A-Yin was done.
Absolutely, completely done.
He jumped and raged, cursing for a full two minutes.
If it weren’t for those bouncing twin-tails on his head almost making the other three die of laughter, this showdown probably wouldn’t have ended today.
Freakin’ hell, what a troll fest!
Grinding his teeth, A-Yin wanted to go swap out his character model.
But the viewers in the chat unanimously voted against it—
plus the other three in his squad chimed in with a bunch of “yeah yeahs” to smooth things over.
So, he gave up.
A-Yin seethed, gritting his teeth:
“Next round, no matter what, I am changing!”
With that, A-Yin walked over to the weapons table.
He looked up—
and was dumbfounded.
By default, this level’s table was supposed to have one rifle, one shotgun, a pistol, and two melee weapons.
Players could choose as they liked.
But now?!
On the weapons table—
the only thing A-Yin recognized was a Thunder God M4A1, a hero-tier weapon from Firefight Rush.
The rest?
A chaotic mess of weapons—sci-fi, fantasy, you name it—none of them looked even remotely like they did in the original game!
But one thing was certain—
every single one of them looked ten thousand times cooler than the originals!
“Dude... what the hell are these things?!”
A-Yin stared, stunned.
He picked up a weapon that looked like a flashlight.
It felt... kinda familiar in his hands, but he couldn’t quite place it.
But just as he was about to ask the chat—
Bzzzzt!
That familiar particle-charging sound fired up—
Ziiiiiing!
A green beam ignited from the “flashlight,” slicing through the air like an unsheathed blade.
“Holy sh**!”
A-Yin felt a surge of power flood his entire body, his adrenaline spiking as he let out an involuntary yell:
“It’s a lightsaber! F***! And it’s Yoda’s lightsaber!”
This was too much!
No man could ever resist the allure of wielding a lightsaber.
Doesn’t matter if you’re eight or eighty.
Grinning from ear to ear, A-Yin spun the saber around, striking a cool pose as that classic, humming energy sound filled the air:
“May the Force be with you.”
The chat went nuts:
“ohhhhhhhhh——”
“Damn! That lightsaber looks sick!”
“What’s the base model? A katana?”
“Must be.”
“So cool, but seeing Hatsune Miku holding it... feels so wrong.”
“Yeah, it’s like Darth Vader doing the leekspin meme. Total brainf**k.”
“I’m dying of laughter. This game, man...”
“A game can be niche, but don’t make it cursed!”
The viewers burst into laughter.
And as weird as the mods were, A-Yin’s team had to admit—
this modded version of Left 4 Dead...
was actually way more fun!
The safe room door opened.
With lightsaber in hand, A-Yin—er, Miku—charged ahead, hyped beyond belief.
He was dying to show off the lightsaber’s power.
CLANG!
The door latch clattered to the floor, and A-Yin swung it open:
“Alright, you little bastards, taste the powe—”
But before he could finish—
a loud, furious shout cut him off!
“Aiyahhhh! Banzai——!!!”
Huh?!
A-Yin froze, looking up.
What the hell—
three or four Japanese soldiers in yellow uniforms, floppy caps on their heads, were charging at him, faces twisted in rage, arms flailing wildly!
“Yo what the f***!”
No clue what the hell was going on, but when instinct kicked in and those maniacs screamed “banzai” at him—
A-Yin’s reflexes took over.
He raised the lightsaber in both hands, planted his feet wide, and roared:
“Come on then!”
With a sharp swing, the lightsaber cut a clean arc through the air, slicing the lead zombie’s head clean off!
It rolled across the floor with a thunk, body slumping behind it.
A-Yin spun, sweeping the saber across—
two more were cut in half, blood spraying everywhere.
In the blink of an eye, the entire banzai charge was wiped out.
And only then did it hit A-Yin—
these were modded zombies.
“What the hell...?”
He stared at the lightsaber in his hands, then at the bodies on the floor, taking a deep breath before letting out a hearty, satisfied yell:
“SO SATISFYING!”
It felt too good!
He hadn’t felt that “slicing through butter” thrill in almost a whole week—
not since Fearless Sniper had left him utterly disgusted.
Now, back in his element—
slashing down hordes of zombies, backed by nationalistic vibes and these ridiculous mods—
A-Yin wanted to shout from the rooftops:
Left 4 Dead is the best game ever!
Gripping the lightsaber tight, his hands even trembled a little with excitement.
At that moment, he had only one thought:
I don’t know who I am, I don’t know where this is, I just know—I’m here to slaughter!
A-Yin was hyped, and the chat exploded with wild laughter and cheers:
“Bro! Bloodline awakening!”
“Swinging a lightsaber like it’s a Chinese war sword—I’m dead, HAHAHAHA!”
“Li Yunlong: If I had this back in the day, I’d have been in Tokyo by now.”
“This scene is so absurd I don’t even know where to start roasting.”
“And the fact that the boss is using a Miku model... Hatsune Miku fighting Japanese zombies... it’s like a dagger stabbing my brain!”
“JK uniform on the outside, but my heart’s pure Chinese.”
“The body’s in Japan, but the soul’s in China, hahahahaha!”
“This is too much—I’m laughing myself sick!”
“The boss looks so happy, I’m getting secondhand joy.”
“This is what gaming should be. Watching this makes me happy.”
“Man, the vibe here is so different from that Fearless Sniper stream.”
“That stream was hilarious too, but for a different reason—the boss was just too funny.”
“1 + 2 and the boss was speechless.”
“From now on, we address Hatsune Miku as Comrade.”
“…”
Slashing left and right, cutting through enemies from the South Gate to the East Sea—
the floor was littered with bodies, and nothing could stand against Miku with a lightsaber.
Of course, A-Yin wasn’t just swinging wildly for fun.
As thrilling as it was to mow down zombie soldiers,
the level had objectives.
This was the final map of Dead Center.
The squad had to collect eight gas cans scattered throughout the mall,
then fuel up the sports car on the ground floor to make their escape.
After a bit of searching, A-Yin found the first gas can.
But just as he picked it up, ready to refuel the car,
a warning flashed across the HUD:
[They’re coming.]
“Horde incoming!”
A-Yin’s eyes snapped wide—
he knew that signal all too well.
“Anyone got any painkillers? Toss me one, I need a boost!”
He’d been hacking away with melee the whole time—
his Thunder God M4 hadn’t fired a single shot.
His health was down to half,
but using a medkit seemed like a waste—
so he figured he’d pop some painkillers for a temporary boost.
The other three rummaged through their pockets.
“Oh, I got one!”
Sister Zhou pulled out a bottle and handed it over.
“Here, boss. Found it in the men’s restroom, in the urinal. Should still be fine.”
A-Yin’s face darkened:
“…Wouldn’t it have been better not to tell me that?”
Sighing, he rolled his eyes and reluctantly took the meds.
By now, the zombie soldiers’ roars were deafening, filling the air. No time to waste.
A-Yin twisted the cap off—
but as his eyes glanced at the bottle,
he spotted a bold label on the front:
Brain-Dead Pills.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me…”
Grinding his teeth, he could only laugh bitterly:
“Once we clear this level, I’m filtering these mods!”
With that, he popped the pills—
his temp HP spiked back up,
and he felt like he’d just traded brain cells for stamina.
But before he could say more—
A sudden, explosive sound blasted through the air!
“And his name is——”
“JOHN CENA!!!”
Dun dun dundun! Dun dundun!
John Cena’s iconic entrance music blared!
From a higher platform, Liu Peiqie’s urgent voice rang out:
“WTF, Wintermelon! RUN! John Cena’s coming for you!”
Wintermelon instinctively turned—
and there he was:
Two meters tall, John Cena, in the flesh, barreling straight at him!
Before Wintermelon could react,
Cena lifted him clean off the ground in a massive fireman’s carry—
and slammed him down like a sack of potatoes!
BOOM!
“ohhhhhhh——!!!”
The chat erupted:
“LMAO!”
“Wintermelon AGAIN hahahahaha!”
“Goddamn, special infected John Cena is a whole mood.”
“That slam was brutal as hell.”
“Honestly, getting wrecked by John Cena isn’t even a bad way to go.”
“Who the hell made this mod? And the music too? WTF…”
“The wildest part is Wintermelon’s model is a Teletubby.”
“The internet, man… always finding new ways to blow my mind.”
“John Cena KO’ing a Teletubby… this would be record-breaking TV on WWE.”
“…”
Yup—
Unlike the totally confused A-Yin’s squad,
Liu Peiqie and the crew had been deep in the mod scene since Workshop went live.
Every few matches, they’d swap in a fresh batch of mods.
This time?
They’d all picked the day’s hottest mods.
First up:
the four-player character models—
Teletubby mod!
The moment they loaded in and saw each other, they lost it.
And as the rest of the models loaded in, the absurdity only escalated.
Like right now—
Liu Peiqie, Liu Di, and Xiao Hei were perched on a rickety scaffold,
laughing their asses off watching John Cena body slam Dipsy.
“Holy s***, that back suplex! Holy s***!”
“Dude, Wintermelon’s antenna got bent! LMAO!”
“Man, Cena’s vicious! Holy crap!”
Sure, they were cracking jokes,
but their actual rescue work wasn’t slow.
Liu Di and Xiao Hei, who had more HP, climbed down from the scaffolding,
fighting through the horde to pull Wintermelon back up.
Liu Peiqie, with the lowest health, stayed up top providing sniper support.
They were waiting for the elevator on the first floor to come back online.
Once it did, they could escape to the next safe room.
But as the generator rumbled to life,
its loud hum also attracted waves of zombies.
So they had to hold their ground,
fending off an endless assault.
And with the boosted enemy spawn cap,
the hordes were relentless—
from thirty to fifty, a hundred, two hundred…
wave after wave, non-stop.
“Ay f***! AY F***!”
From the highest point, Liu Peiqie stared at the swarm stretching into the horizon—
his pupils contracted, voice trembling in shock and fear.
The sunset painted the sky blood-red.
Smoke and fire rose from the ruined city.
The endless horde merged with the skyline,
layer upon layer, wave upon wave, like a tsunami crashing down.
The building they were holding felt like the last island in a drowning city—
the three teammates fighting below were like a lone boat bobbing at its edge.
The sheer, soul-crushing sense of despair sent chills down Liu Peiqie’s spine.
“I’m done! F***! Any meds left?!”
Pinned against a cab, Xiao Hei swapped out an empty rifle mag with a click, frantically shouting:
“I’m outta health!”
“None here!”
Liu Di, standing on the car roof, pounded the fire button—
the roaring blue-barrel minigun drowned out his voice.
“Wintermelon! You got any meds?!”
“I got a medkit!”
Wintermelon, pinned behind the cab, smashed a zombie with his shotgun stock,
then unloaded an incendiary blast from his AA-12, turning the horde into a fireworks show.
“But we don’t have time to heal—!”
“F***—I’m down!”
Before the sentence finished, Xiao Hei collapsed beneath the horde, his health bar blinking red—downed.
Things were spiraling fast.
Seeing his teammate fall, Liu Di felt his heart sink.
The three of them had been barely holding on as it was—
now with one down, there was no way he and Wintermelon could last.
“Wintermelon! Xiao Hei’s down—pull him up! I’ll cover you!”
Spinning the minigun, Liu Di barked out commands, laying down suppressing fire.
Wintermelon reacted quickly—
sliding across the hood, ducking under the onslaught—
BANG BANG! BANG!
Dropping a few zombies, he lunged for Xiao Hei:
“I’ve got you—!”
But before his hand reached him—
A sudden, unmistakable, goosebump-inducing voice roared out—
“Ni gan ma—— HAHA ai yo!”
The sound rushed at him like a bullet—
Wintermelon froze in dread.
“Yo, wha—!”
Before he could finish—
a grey-haired, bowl-cut figure in overalls launched onto him like a missile—
BAM!
Riding on his head!
And then...
That iconic song blasted through the air:
Ji Ni Tai Mei—— Bebe—— Ji Ni Shi Zai Shi Tai Mei—— Bebe——