root-book

In a sun-blind wasteland where stopping means death, 10,000 players wake inside a VRMMO with one rule: keep moving. Culler drones enforce pace with instant lethality; the world itself—heat storms, night predators, razor-thin bridges—culled by an AI that treats suffering as load-balancing. Every mile grants XP; every 100 miles mutates you, power with a sting. Killing another walker steals their endurance for a day. The march is spectacle. The audience votes. Sponsors drop traps disguised as help.