Noah, a man prone to quiet contemplation, found himself grappling with a paradox.

  The goblin kingdom, a realm he and Arthur had helped shape, presented a stark contrast: flourishing farms and an unusual tranquility juxtaposed with ramshackle homes and an ostentatious palace. "It's…baffling," he murmured. "We helped them build this, yet…" He trailed off, his gaze sweeping over the dilapidated dwellings.

  "Why the disparity?" He recalled the construction guides, the detailed instructions. "Did they misunderstand? Is it a cultural thing? Or did something…change?"

  His thoughts drifted to DragonWar, a world equally perplexing. Reaching level 9 offered a tantalizing taste of level 10, but the game was a broken mess.

  Empty towns, missing NPCs, and a distinct lack of challenging creatures painted a picture of incompleteness. "It's not just buggy," he mused.

  "It's…premature." Only goblins populated this digital wasteland, their repetitive presence and rudimentary AI reinforcing his suspicions. "Just goblins," he’d muttered. "Placeholder content." The sheer volume of them, their ubiquitous presence, suggested a desperate attempt to fill a void. "They just spammed goblins everywhere," he concluded.

  But it felt earlier than a beta test. "This isn't even functional," he thought. "It's…pre-alpha?" The missing features, the lack of polish, the pervasive sense of incompleteness – it all pointed to a version far earlier than any public release.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  "It's like I'm in the game's embryonic stage," he mused, "before it even became a game."

  The goblin kingdom, a world he and Arthur had directly influenced, mirrored this sense of incompleteness. The thriving farms and peaceful atmosphere hinted at a potential, much like the idea of a finished game.

  But the crumbling homes and extravagant palace betrayed a fundamental imbalance, much like the bugs and missing content of DragonWar.

  "It's the same feeling," he thought. "Of something unfinished, something…missing." He paused, a realization dawning. "We created this kingdom," he whispered. "Arthur and I. We put him on the throne."

  The palace's opulence, he now understood, wasn't just random; it was a direct consequence of Arthur's kingship, a symbol of his power and the kingdom's skewed priorities.

  The dilapidated homes weren't simply neglected; they were a byproduct of this shift in focus.

  Resources flowed towards the palace, towards solidifying Arthur’s reign, leaving little for individual dwellings.

  "It's not their fault," he realized. "It's…our fault. Or mine, at least." He had set the wheels in motion, and this was the result.

  The game and the kingdom, he saw, were connected in more ways than he’d imagined.

  The game’s goblins were a simplified version, devoid of the social complexity he now witnessed in Arthur's kingdom.

  These goblins, under Arthur’s rule, had evolved, their society shaped by Noah’s actions.

  He wasn't just trapped in a buggy game; he was trapped in a world he had helped create, both in the digital realm and in this strange, new reality.