Since they had agreed to form an alliance, they must have chosen a meeting place before entering the game.
For example, the location Jon Snow had agreed upon with his two former allies was St. Belle's Cathedral in King's Landing.
But after his allies withdrew from the game, he changed his starting point to the Riverlands.
Now that he's on his own, the other players likely aren't. They'll probably stick to the original plan and gather at well-known locations like the Crossroads Inn or Shataya's Tavern to meet up.
With this 'First Blood' mission in play, doesn't that make those promised allies perfect targets for ambush?
Sure, some players might get spooked by the mission and avoid the rendezvous, but humans are never short of adventurers.
When there's a 20% profit, people get interested. If there's a 50% profit, they'll start taking risks. At 100%, they'll ignore the law, and at 300%, they'll commit any crime—even risk the gallows.
And what's the reward for this mission?
Setting aside attribute and skill points, the gold alone is worth three thousand dragons. With that kind of money, plus two S-tier NPCs, a player could easily form a small army of hundreds.
In this game, where most players can't rely on system resources, what would it mean to be the first to gain access to such a huge advantage?
It could make someone unstoppable for years—or even immune to the threat of assassination from the leaderboard mechanics—free to develop however they choose.
There's no reason for players not to take that gamble.
"But the second issue still isn't resolved!" Jon quickly composed himself. "How do players see through each other's disguises?"
Let's say two allies who arranged a meeting beforehand manage to find each other. But with a First Blood mission hanging over their heads, they wouldn't dare use their secret code to confirm identities, would they?
They'd have to test each other cautiously while hiding their own identities.
But how easy is it to expose someone like that? Everyone here has survived countless qualifiers—we're all elite players. Who would be careless enough to reveal a flaw?
From a design perspective, if things are set up this way, then the developers must believe players can see through each other. Which means there's something we've all overlooked—some kind of flaw.
Jon suddenly remembered the backstory. According to Annie, the background story was meant to help players maintain their disguises.
But clearly, the developers don't want the disguises to work too well. On the contrary—they want players to see through each other and start fighting.
That's a strange contradiction in the game design.
Unless… something's wrong with the backstory itself?
Jon quickly closed his eyes, opened the auxiliary system, and reviewed the information panel to study his backstory again in detail.
Soon, he found something odd.
He didn't have a last name.
Originally, as a commoner from the Vale, he wouldn't have had one. But later in his backstory, he was knighted—which meant he had the right to choose a surname for himself.
Yet he still had none. That wasn't normal.
Still, it wasn't a huge issue—not something most would notice. And it probably only applied to players who started as hired knights, not everyone.
"Yes, all players. If we want to reliably detect flaws, then the flaw must be something shared by all players—or at least the vast majority. So, what's the common denominator between all of us?"
What do players all have in common that's obvious enough to become a flaw? Something others could easily notice?
It can't be something like walking with a bounce, right? This is the real world now—no one's dancing around for fun. That would be exhausting!
Jon Snow paced back and forth across the room, deep in thought.
Then, his gaze landed on a pile of gear in the corner.
A half-hand sword, a nasal helm, a gorget, an old chainmail shirt, mail gloves, and a pair of greaves.
In a flash, the character creation screen reappeared in his mind.
"Shit! The starting equipment—it's the starting gear!"
Each profession begins with the same set of equipment. And more than 90% of players must've chosen one of the five standard professions Jon had seen before.
That means—aside from their faces—the rest of a player's appearance matches exactly what was shown on the character creation screen!
Take traveling merchants, for instance. Their setup includes four servants, four worn-out draft horses, two wagons, and seven mules. It's practically a walking banner! (Though surely most of them have realized how conspicuous that makes them and have taken steps to change it.)
Next come the mercenary knights. They stand out too. They have a full set of gear—armor and weapons that usually only wealthy nobles can afford—but they don't even have a squire. That alone raises suspicion.
Then there are the Wrecked Sailors and Brotherhood Hunters. They're not much better. Both classes are rare, and their signature weapons—a throwing axe for one, a yew longbow for the other—make them easy to identify.
Of all of them, only the wandering mercenary has a decent chance at blending in. Westeros taverns are crawling with mercenaries. And they start with nothing more than old leather armor, a short sword, and a dagger—nothing unusual compared to local folk.
But for every other class, the moment they show up at the agreed meeting spot, they're likely to trigger a reaction: Have I seen that guy before?
That's the real reason behind the background story system!
The developers deliberately made character creation complex—lots of variables, lots of choices—so each player feels unique. But they slyly left the starting profession's equipment unchanged across the board, making players more similar than they realized.
Then they had the AI explain the background story as something meant to help players blend in better—to give them memories and identities for better disguise. But that was just a distraction, a deliberate misdirection to keep players from noticing how easily they could be recognized!
When humans receive new information, the first explanation they accept tends to stick. Most people don't actively question it or consider the opposite.
Even Jon himself had overlooked the obvious flaw of starting gear at first!
Since the organizers can't interfere with the game once it begins, this was their way of influencing the early stages—setting the trap in advance, pushing players into conflict right from the start to make things more intense and chaotic.
Mudd! Who would've thought that in this game of one hundred players, the very first enemy they'd have to face... would be a trap laid by the game itself?