To ascend, I had no choice but to create games

Chapter 155: Chapter 120: Crossroads (Two More)_1

After hearing KongKong’s question, Qiu Yu pondered for a while before saying, “There are quite a few problems: office politics, a culture of shifting blame, suppression from all sides…”

“Focus on the main point.”

“Well… that would be you guys. To be more specific, it’s you producers.”

KongKong shook his head slightly, feeling annoyed but having to admit that the other party was right.

The old who do not die become thieves. Tianyi is a large gaming company, but inevitably, it also carries various historical issues.

The biggest historical issue is these producers who once had successful projects.

For most game producers, their golden age is before fifty years old; by fifty, they start facing cognitive issues.

As technology innovates and times progress, the experience they accumulated in the past will start to become ineffective or even turn into stumbling blocks, making these people continue as producers, though ensuring the lower limit of a game’s quality, severely caps the upper limit.

Moreover, what’s even scarier is that sometimes, past experiences can backfire, which is an issue every producer must face.

They should follow Mr. Shen’s example, dutifully impart their knowledge to the next generation, and then head home to retire and look after their hair.

Nodding her head, KongKong asked Qiu Yu, “Do you want to stay here, or find another path?”

“Of course I want to stay here. I haven’t made my mark yet.”

“Alright then.”

Turning her head to think for a moment, KongKong continued, “Don’t leave after work; come here every day. I’m probably going to retire at the end of the month. I’ll tutor you during this time.”

“…Why me?”

“Because I like you.”

“…Thank you.”

“Go on.”

As he watched Qiu Yu leave, KongKong leaned back in his chair, feeling emptied but somewhat comforted.

He had to take full responsibility for this defeat; retirement at the end of the year was already a certainty.

Reflecting on his career, he realized he barely left anything behind in the gaming industry, with the only game he could talk about being the first online game he made when he first joined Tianyi.

The game emulated “A Chinese Odyssey” and included features such as teaming up, capturing pets, questing, and treasure hunting. It was the kind of game that required players to log in daily and invest four to five hours.

He had all the conventional settings in his game and innovated upon them while emulating others.

Although it was naive, that game was his most heartfelt creation, still in operation today, with people logging in to play it every day.

Thinking of this, he suddenly lost interest in “Dark Guardian” and wanted to play his game instead.

Turning on his computer, he smoothly launched the client, logged into his account, and immediately received a message from a friend he hadn’t seen in half a year:

[Why have you been offline for so long? Remembered your account?]

The other person didn’t know he was the producer of this game, and KongKong hadn’t revealed his identity either.

Realizing the other person was still playing, KongKong promptly responded: [Yeah.]

[Come on then, we’re just missing one more for our ghost-hunting team of four. Good thing your gear’s up to par and your level’s not bad. Let’s go. ]

[Okay.]

And so, KongKong neglected many of his duties and immersed himself in the old days, engaging intensely with the game.

Afterward, as KongKong and Qiu Yu had expected, the data for “Dark Guardian” worsened.

Players said “Dark Guardian” was decent in every respect but just wasn’t engaging enough. Spending money gave a momentary thrill but soon became dull.

In contrast, the popularity of “Dark Builder” was steadily growing.

As a free-to-play game, the spread of “Dark Builder” was nothing short of legendary.

There was no marketing push from the promoters, and the team didn’t buy traffic. The only way to download was through an official website, which was pretty cool.

Yet, with a daily download volume of two hundred thousand, it became a miracle that was passed on by word of mouth. Its mild social element meant that it could effortlessly persuade players to introduce the game to four friends, allowing them to form a five-man team to play together.

Collaboration was the base upon which it could grow virally, and its high quality with highly unpredictable gameplay was what facilitated its spread. Different genres made it socially vibrant, and the various Earth-shattering magical weapons made players eager to continue playing after each session.

The game’s pace could be accelerated; the time for the last round of each session could be reduced to half an hour, making it particularly suitable for weary young people to play in a short break.

Someone once joked that if the Living Immortal were to charge, he’d instantly become a millionaire.

But the Immortal didn’t care.

All he cared about was whether the players were enjoying themselves.

Because of its replicable gameplay, aside from Tianyi, a myriad of game developers started to imitate it.

Suddenly, a surge of “Dark Builder-like” games sprouted up like bamboo shoots after rain, nearly one new game every day, even overseas there were many imitators.

Most of the one-to-one replicas failed. Those who survived were the ones who built new gameplay mechanics on top of the original, filling certain gaps.

Although it was only a niche genre, “Dark Builder” created a new branch of games and helped some developers find a direction that was cost-effective yet had a high chance of success.

They used early replication to acquire the capital to survive; some continued to imitate, while others embarked on original endeavours, adding some bright spots to the gaming industry.

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