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Chapter 17
What I want to highlight most about this game’s ultra-realistic feel is the second reason—the intelligence and interactivity of the NPCs!
Before playing this game, I could never have imagined a world where every single NPC you meet has their own personality and story.
But Eerie Revival truly achieves collective NPC intelligence. Every NPC reacts differently depending on your favorability, your dialogue choices, your actions, and even your charm stat.
They’re nothing like the stiff, repetitive NPCs of other games. It’s fascinating.
For example—
At first, I just wanted to observe the realism: whether the food on NPCs’ plates actually decreased when they ate, whether their jaws moved, whether their Adam’s apples bobbed, and so on.
Then I discovered something incredible:
If you stand about two meters away from them, they usually ignore you.
But if you stare too closely—
Some NPCs will ask what you’re doing.
Some will stop eating and leave.
Some will curse you for being a creep.
And some will simply switch tables to keep eating elsewhere…
And these were all their real-time facial expressions.
[Screenshot] [Screenshot] [Screenshot] [Screenshot] [Screenshot]
That wasn’t even the wildest part.
When that same NPC who had cursed me before saw me again, he rolled his eyes—and even told the nearby NPCs that I was the “weirdo who stares at people eating in the cafeteria.”
[Screenshot]
So I explained myself:
I told him my parents died when I was young, that I live with my grandmother who’s seriously ill this month.
I said I’d sent all my money to pay her medical bills, and now I can only afford a one-yuan bowl of plain rice and free soup each day.
I said maybe I’d stared too long at his food because I hadn’t eaten properly in so long.
Then I apologized.
And this was his reaction afterward:
[“I’m such a jerk.jpg”]
At that point, I honestly started to suspect Eerie Revival was using real actors as NPCs—each with top-tier acting skills—because the realism was that convincing.
That NPC insisted on buying me a meal.
So, naturally, I had him deliver breakfast to complete Tang Yu’s fetch quest.
That’s right—
in this game, you can even make one NPC run errands for another NPC’s quest!
While completing Tang Yu’s series of delivery tasks, I also discovered something else:
you can haggle with shopkeepers!
At first, the shop NPC wouldn’t accept any bargaining.
But as soon as I launched into my “sick grandmother” story again—complete with screenshots—suddenly everything was at a discount price!
[Screenshot] [Screenshot] [Screenshot]
What’s even funnier is that both the NPC who had cursed me earlier and this shopkeeper’s favorability toward me increased after giving me free stuff.
So it’s clear that Eerie Revival’s favorability system is very different—flexible, reactive, and incredibly dynamic.
Even more surprising:
after completing all of Tang Yu’s fetch quests, Tang Yu’s favorability toward me was still only 1.
[Thumbs-up.jpg]
Tang Yu is hands down the hardest NPC to raise favorability with so far.
Putting aside that rude cafeteria NPC, when I accepted the “search” quest, I rummaged through various dorm rooms, and a lot of NPCs’ favorability actually dropped into the negatives.
But those were easy to fix—
just tell them about your “sick grandmother,” say you were looking for an old photo of you and her, and their favorability would bounce back up a bit.
Except for Tang Yu.
No matter how many gifts you give him, how many favors you do, or how many times you tell him your heartfelt story—his favorability stays at 1.
So what does a favorability of 1 mean?
Because my Charm stat is 8, every other NPC I’ve met starts with at least 60 favorability by default.
Tang Yu was the very first NPC I met.
At the start, every player’s favorability with him was a flat 0, which made me think the whole favorability system only went up to 10.
And yet—even though Tang Yu’s favorability toward us is technically just “1,” his actual attitude toward us is equivalent to how other NPCs act at around 60 favorability.
[Thumbs-up.jpg]
I checked the NPCs around Tang Yu, and the system notes said they all secretly had crushes on him.
Their favorability toward him was at least 90.
[Screenshot] [Screenshot] [Screenshot] [Screenshot]
Yes—in this game, we can not only see how NPCs feel about us, but also how they feel about each other.
But strangely, I can’t see Tang Yu’s favorability toward anyone else.
There are already quite a few forum analyses about Tang Yu as the game’s first major NPC.
Some say he’s a “tutorial-type” character, but here’s my personal theory—
Tang Yu might actually be a “key clue-type special NPC.”
What does that mean?
We have to talk about the main storyline.
At the start, the system’s world introduction (see screenshots) explains that Eerie Revival’s world is one where the eerie and supernatural are reviving.
These “eeries” change the world itself.
We, the players, are chosen participants in this “Great Revival Project.”
Through completing tasks, we gain eerie powers—like infinite resurrection and supernatural abilities (mutations)—and our frail human bodies are enhanced (attribute points increase).
The first eerie entity we encounter is the Ghost Bus.
The mission is to find a living driver.
But as I progressed, I realized that what the quest really meant was: find a living person to serve as fuel—the Ghost Bus runs on human blood.
When we disassembled the bus, it turned out its internal structure was identical to a real bus—the fuel tank was still under the left side, about three meters behind the driver’s seat.
[Screenshot] [Screenshot]
The driver sitting there really did “power” the bus—
but as fuel.
After we accepted that quest, the janitor NPC appeared.
[Screenshot]
That janitor was clearly the intended “fuel source” the system had arranged—
but Tang Yu let him escape, disrupting the normal quest flow.
Then some players suggested making Tang Yu himself the “living driver,”
and immediately a second quest appeared:
[Screenshot]
Task 2: “Escort Tang Yu and destroy the Ghost Bus.”
The two missions completely contradicted each other—
one told you to protect Tang Yu and destroy the bus,
the other to kill Tang Yu to help the bus revive.
If normal main quests follow a straight line,
then Tang Yu’s uniqueness is that he can branch the main storyline into entirely different paths.
Some might say I’m overanalyzing, but after playing through that first quest, I started to feel my hunch was right—
and then came the second quest.
[Screenshot]
This time, the mission objective was: Find ???
But the system gave no clue what “???” even was—no description, no hint.
Searching for “???” across a massive campus map was like finding a needle in a haystack.
Then, after finishing all of Tang Yu’s errands,
I finally obtained a clue about ???!
I’ve written so much already—let me eat first and then post the next update!
[Comment #1]
“??? I already took my pants off and you show me THIS?!”
[…]
[Comment #444]
“Hey everyone, it’s Yan Lang again! I’m back!”
“Last time, I mentioned getting slashed by that paper doll NPC—let me praise Eerie Revival’s realism again. When it slashed me, I could literally feel the blade catching on my flesh. When it hit bone, the animation even stuttered slightly—no pain, but I felt the impact. The realism was unreal!”
“Check out how terrifying those paper dolls are—”
[Screenshot] [Screenshot] [Screenshot]
“Anyway, I died right after that.”
“But it was worth it! Remember that mission about finding ??? ? Well, I got a hint from the system—??? is hidden in this very instance!”
[Screenshot]
“Each death in this instance affects your score, and you only get one attempt per day. I’ve used up today’s try—so it’s up to you all now. I’m going back in to explore more!”
[Comment #445]
“God, I want to play this game so bad!!”
[Comment #446]
“Now I’m dying to see what Tang Yu with a charm of 10 looks like… has anyone seen his face?”
(Scene shift)
Tang Yu placed the little paper man on his desk.
The table was cluttered with items players had bought—
when Tang Yu issued the errands, he hadn’t specified any visual requirements,
so the players had chosen according to their own taste.
Most of the items were in cool tones—especially blue.
Perhaps one of those players particularly liked blue.
Among them, Shen Junxing’s lunch box stood out vividly—
its soft goose-yellow color glowing warmly among the blues.
It was the only thing tied to his past home life.
Seeing that lunch box, Tang Yu suddenly remembered the time he’d gone shopping at the supermarket with Shen Junxing.
He could still picture the soft amber lighting,
the endless shelves lined with goods,
and Shen Junxing standing there, carefully comparing items one by one.
Even in the age of online shopping, Shen Junxing preferred buying household items in person.
Every time he chose something, he would turn and ask for Tang Yu’s opinion.
And Tang Yu would always answer the same way:
“Whatever.”
“Anything’s fine.”
“You decide.”
Shen Junxing had laughed, lips curving gently.
“This is our home, Xiao Yu. How can I decide everything alone?”
“What if I decorate it in a way you don’t like, and you run away from me?”
The memory ended there.
Tang Yu pushed the yellow lunch box aside and lowered his eyes to tidy the other items on the desk.
He tore the plastic wrap off a new desk calendar, flipped it to August, and circled August 30th with a red pen.
August 30th—
the Ghost Festival this year.
And also… his parents’ death anniversary.
The little crying paper man sat beside the calendar.
Tang Yu glanced at it.
His face was expressionless,
but his blue eyes seemed even sadder than the paper doll’s drawn tears.
It feels like… I’ve lost my home again.
Mom… Dad…
…
The damp little paper man stared silently at Tang Yu.
In the still dorm room came a faint rustling sound—
like the whisper of paper brushing against itself.
Tang Yu looked up, about to trace the sound—
but before he could, his phone chimed with a message notification.
Shen Junxing: “【Photo】”
Tang Yu frowned and tapped it open—
and when he saw the picture, his eyes widened slightly.
It was a small black cat,
lying sprawled on the ground, exposing its soft belly and paw pads to the camera.
Its green eyes were narrow slits of light in the sun.
Shen Junxing: “Xiao Yu, I ran into this cat downstairs. It’s a stray, but very friendly.”
Shen Junxing: “【Photo】”
In the next photo, the little black cat had stood up, almost pressing itself against Shen Junxing’s pant leg.
Shen Junxing: “It keeps circling around my legs.”
Shen Junxing: “【Voice message】”
Tang Yu tapped the audio message—
a drawn-out, syrupy meow played, plaintive and sweet—
obviously a cat begging for food.
Tang Yu had never kept a cat himself,
but he’d watched tons of videos about cat behavior.
He even secretly practiced mimicking cat sounds—though not very accurately.
He wasn’t as good at it as just saying “mimi” to a stray.
He pressed his lips together and replied:
“That kind of meow means the cat is asking for food.”
Shen Junxing: “Xiao Yu’s so smart.”
Tang Yu usually carried a small bag of cat food with him,
but in his rush to move, he’d left it behind at home.
He glanced at the two lunches on his desk—
one from the cafeteria, one homemade by Shen Junxing.
He opened the yellow lunch box.
Inside was a beautifully arranged meal—
and just as he expected, a soft-boiled egg on top.
Tang Yu loved soft-boiled eggs.
Shen Junxing often made them for him.
Tang Yu replied:
“I can’t finish this lunch anyway, so I’ll give the egg to the cat.”
“Keep an eye on it for me. I’ll be right down.”
Sunlight streamed through the dorm balcony, bright and warm.
The dark shadows faded away.
The faint rustle of paper went silent again.
Tang Yu, hurrying to grab the lunch box, didn’t notice any of it.
He headed downstairs quickly—
and sure enough, not far away, he spotted the little black cat.
Above its head hovered a faint status bar labeled simply: “Black Cat.”
“Mimi,” Tang Yu called softly.
The cat, catching the scent of food from the lunch box in Tang Yu’s hands, turned and sprinted toward him,
meowing urgently as it circled his feet.
