In the land called Erangel, weeds and dust flutter in the wind, like a silent and desolate ink painting. The war once raged here, and the dilapidated buildings silently told silent stories. The iron gate of the gas station was mottled and rusty, and the former prosperity was long gone. Only the bright red sign was still as bright as before, hanging on the wall, like an old man’s eyes, deep and warm-that was KFC, bringing a strange smell of fireworks.
Players in the game ran around, their figures passed through the grass and ruins, and their tired footsteps were heavy and hurried. However, in this war-torn world, there was suddenly such a place, quietly waiting. A self-service ordering machine stood quietly in the gas station, and the fluorescent screen reflected the player’s name. With the soft light, a hot fried chicken meal slowly appeared.
That fried chicken meal was not just a supply, it was integrated with the taste of life. The golden chicken legs are like the food in the hands of a mother in the village, warming the cold body. When the character uses it, the action of biting the chicken legs is gentle and delicate, as if it is a pious ritual for life. French fries become bandages, and drinks are like energy drinks, all of which are symbols of life and warmth.
In this cruel game world, each player can only use it once in each KFC until the fourth stage. The rules are as clear as a mountain path, but with irresistible power, teaching people to be moderate and cherish. The same is true for life, and limited warmth is particularly precious.
Not only Erangel, but Miramar, Sanhok, and Vikendi have also hung up this bright red sign. The banners flying on the plane are like flags in the sky, announcing the universal existence of this warmth. They are like flowing fireworks, crossing the wilderness and lighting up the hearts of travelers.
Those figures running around in the gunfire occasionally stop in front of this gas station and touch the machine, as if they have touched the fireworks of their hometown. The tenderness and desire in the heart are awakened at this moment. It makes people believe that even in a ruthless battlefield, there is still a place of human warmth.
This fried chicken meal carries the continuation of life and the power of hope. It tells people: In a stormy world, warmth is never far away, and even a simple meal is enough to comfort the soul.
So, in the intervals between gunshots, the aroma of fried chicken quietly drifts away. It gently touches every soul wandering in the virtual world, bringing a moment of peace and comfort. It is a kind of quiet beauty, a whisper of endless love for life.