(Make sure to favorite this, favoriting is the real deal; it's the motivation for my bursts of inspiration.)
It was a young man who arrived, perhaps he was a decent soldier originally, but seeing him now, one could only think of the phrase "something's wrong."
His bare upper body was covered in whip marks, smeared with filth indistinguishable from animal excrement or dirt. Below, he wore a pitifully small piece of animal hide, like the tiny bikinis worn by beach beauties in summer. His hair was a mess, a complete bird's nest, and he limped as he walked.
"I'm number 500, you're that Number 0 who first entered the game, right?" Number 500 grinned, but as soon as he opened his mouth, he winced with pain. Before the cries of pain even ended, he began to bawl, tears and snot streaming down his face.