So Mr. Subedar, why did you even want to participate in this game?
“Why huh...?” He pauses, seemingly to think about it.
“Well I can’t exactly say I’m a good person. I’ve done a lot of things I can’t say I’m happy with, even if I try to justify it as ‘following orders’ or ‘doing what I need to get paid’. I don’t really want to hurt anyone else, I never wanted to. It’s half the reason I tried to retire from being a mercenary, the injuries on my arms the other. ...Maybe in the beginning it was to selfishly get the cash to fix my arms up proper and then just fade into obscurity away from it all, but I can’t deal with that kind of cowardly life. Couldn’t deal with it knowing I’m just as much of a killer as some of them, y’know?”
“Any of these hunters we’re against could kill us without an effort. The game gives me a rush when I’m out there with them hunting us-- I’m brought back to that soldier mindset. I get violent, I get aggressively overprotective of comrades, sometimes to the point I want to throw myself at them with my blade, and do the same stupid things that got my arms injured in the first place. I guess I’m hoping eventually one of those hunters will just end it for me. I just don’t think I can rest peacefully if I die off a ‘battlefield’ now...”