After the great extinction, the insect‑ape tribe had retreated into tiny, isolated enclaves—leaving vast stretches of land open for Xu Zhi to secretly reshape the sandbox's terrain again. He selected a patch of earth, dumped cow and chicken manure on it, added water, and mixed in dead branches and leaves. In time, microbial fermentation would turn it into nutrient‑rich muck, releasing methane and transforming it into a sticky, fertile swamp.
Into this perfect breeding ground he released the "Big‑Eye" creature. With no competition, even the weakest specimen could reproduce unchecked. Whether it would ultimately evolve into a mindless horror—a Cthulhu‑style eldritch eye monster—was up to nature. If it failed, Xu Zhi stood to lose nothing; extinction was highly probable anyway, given that devoting two‑thirds of one's body mass to a single eyeball was evolutionarily absurd.
The next morning, Xu Zhi lounged in his courtyard chair, leisurely peeling an apple as he muttered to himself, "Working alone in a vacuum isn't productive—other people's creativity always surprises me. Take this Big‑Eye monster… Sometimes I hate that I'm not stupid enough to evolve into something so bizarre."
He glanced at the mini sandbox—and froze. It was full. Exactly one hundred spores were alive and evolving, reaching the cap he'd deliberately set. He'd intended the sandbox as a small, casual experiment to spark inspiration, not as a massive multiplayer game. Yet in just one day, the server was overwhelmed.
Curious, Xu Zhi searched online and discovered the single post that had ignited the frenzy. Its headline read:
"Black Tech! The Ultimate Realistic Simulation Game — Full Sensory VR, China's Most Hardcore Casual Sandbox Game: 'Spore Evolution'."
At first, gamers dismissed it as clickbait. VR hype was everywhere, but real technology was still immature. Still, some brave souls logged in—and word spread like wildfire.
Comments under the post ranged from astonishment to disbelief:
"It's real! It's terrifying how tactile it feels—what alien technology is this? I'm blown away!""Total scam!"
Despite the skepticism, players kept testing the beta—and became hooked. Screenshots of grotesque evolutionary failures flooded social media. Soon everyone realized only one hundred beta accounts existed; no more could log in.
"Only 100 beta testers allowed!"
Envy and frustration exploded online, while the lucky few who gained access celebrated in private chat groups. They'd spent the night sleeplessly evolving their spores—and by morning, the first strategy guide and beta impressions were pinned atop major gaming forums.
One standout post by user "AutumnMountainSpeed" became the definitive first review:
Hello everyone, I'm "AutumnMountainSpeed." I'm incredibly fortunate to be the first to discover this unadvertised, groundbreaking game. Here's a concise review:
Sensory Immersion: It's 100% real. I guarantee it. You truly feel as if you've been transported into another world. The pain feedback at 100% intensity made dying feel shockingly visceral—I was convulsing and drenched in cold sweat after removing my VR headset. Never again.
Hardcore Mechanics: Marketed as a casual sandbox, it's brutally unforgiving. There's no character creation or race selection—just one choice: begin your life as a spore. The world starts in absolute darkness; you must evolve eyes to see. That moment alone revealed this game's depth.
One Life Only: If your "king" creature dies, your entire species goes extinct and you're kicked from the game. No respawns, no save points—you must create a new account to start over. This level of permanence is unprecedented.
No Guides: Evolution is unpredictable. I tried replicating a previous path to become a Big‑Eye monster but instead evolved compound eyes. This mirrors real evolution: identical conditions can yield wildly different outcomes.
Total Sensory Feedback: Whatever creature you become, you inherit its full sensory experience. My first evolution produced a Big‑Eye monster with an enormous field of view. My second created compound eyes—eight simultaneous perspectives, like living kaleidoscope.
Infinite Possibilities: Imagine evolving into a dragon and soaring through the skies, feeling the exhilaration of flight. My longest run saw me leave the ocean as an amphibious Big‑Eye creature—but even that lasted under five hours.
Final Boss?: We evolve in the backyard of a colossal, mist‑shrouded giant who sits calmly peeling fruit and reading. I once crept close as a Big‑Eye "king," only to be crushed underfoot—ending my run while lesser creatures lingered.
I suspect this giant is the sandbox's ultimate challenge. The concept is endlessly fascinating: we are insects evolving in a giant's courtyard.
Verdict: This game is the most hardcore, addictive experience ever created. Its freedom, infinite possibilities, and flawless tactile immersion feel like a real world. It's revolutionary—I can't praise it enough.
My goal now is to survive long-term, escape the cycle of death and account resets, and evolve into a species capable of dominating the ecosystem—perhaps even reaching apex predator status. Eventually, I want to evolve into a legendary dragon and fly over the giant peeling apples… then, with supreme triumph, defecate on his head.
That's how euphoric this game makes you feel!
If you play, study evolutionary biology—knowledge is power. I'll head back in for another run. This time, I'll live longer. I'm hooked!
Xu Zhi smiled quietly. The same species that had once mocked him—calling him "baldy"—had ended up utterly humiliated. He added this score to his mental ledger: a debt to collect in the future.