The world is originally an absurd game, who can say that the card pool in the virtual world is not a microcosm of another life? The news of the Genshin Impact card pool in version 5.6 is like a puzzle of modern society. On the surface, it is the temptation of new characters and the reproduction of old characters. In fact, it is a silent dialectic about human nature, choice and fate.
Aikefei, an ice element long-handled weapon character, seems to be just another innovation of the game designer at first glance. Her elemental combat skills and burst skills are packaged in a grand manner, which can heal teammates and reduce enemy resistance, as if she is a “good messenger” in the modern game world. However, the “goodness” in the game is nothing more than an algorithm, a man-made rule, and the player is just a mechanical control step by step. Her so-called “partnership” with the future version of Silkcock is nothing more than a routine designed by the developer to extend the life of the game. Players are wrapped up in these “routines” and become gears that never stop in the digital world.
Ifa, a wind element magic weapon character, sounds light and agile, with a healing romantic color. But he is ultimately a collection of codes without a soul. Players are given the right to control him, but they never really own him. His elemental combat skills and bursts are like the packaging of various fast-moving consumer goods in modern society, gorgeous on the surface but empty on the inside. Terms such as diffusion and electro-sensory reaction sound profound, but in fact they are just “tricks” in digital games to whet players’ appetites and stimulate their wallets.
The reproduction of General Thunder, Kinzi, and Navia is a nostalgic benefit for players on the surface, but in fact it is the reincarnation of capital. The repeated use of characters is a typical strategy for commercial games to create a “scarcity” and “chasing” feeling. Players experience hope and disappointment in drawing cards again and again, as if they are constantly investing chips in a casino, hoping for a miracle of a comeback at the gambling table. Games are no longer just entertainment, but a test of human nature, and a microcosm of anxiety and desire in modern society.
The “safety”, “speed” and “discount” of the Treabar platform play the role of lubricant in the economic chain of this game. It seems to help players experience the game better, but in fact it is a channel for players to convert real currency into virtual currency more smoothly. Behind this seemingly warm service is the delicate operation of commercial interests and the silent betrayal of the loss of players’ wallets.
The numbers and characters in the card pool are not isolated, but symbols in a huge system. Every card draw is a choice, and every choice carries expectations for fate and a bet on the future. Players chase the illusions of ice, snow and wind on the virtual continent of Teyvat, but also lose themselves in the real world.
The core of this game is actually a question of free will. Are the players really free? Are the characters and fates they choose independent decisions or inevitable arrangements arranged by the program? The news of the Genshin Impact 5.6 card pool reminds us: those seemingly free choices in life are actually running under some invisible rules. Understanding this may be the first step towards true freedom.