[Must be another dystopian universe.]

Not the maker of the game you're thinking of. This isn't my game. It's the Admirals, the wardens, and their 'arena' isn't as easy to master as the one you just left.

We need to get you cleaned up and your wounds dressed. You look terrible, vulnerable, as you are. I'll explain your situation after I've ensured your health is continuing.

But--

[He pauses.]

I won't force myself unecessarily. Do you want my help?