Horror Game Designer

Chapter 5: To Our Love That Will Eventually Perish

Gao Ming works as a psychological counselor within the daunting walls of Henshan High-Security Prison, where he is engulfed by the intense pressures that come with the job. To cope with the stresses of his day-to-day encounters with the dark facets of human psychology, he has turned to an unconventional outlet: game development. Through the creation of video games, Gao Ming channels the chilling experiences he absorbs from his environment, weaving the terrors he witnesses, hears about, and conjures up in his mind into the fabric of his games. By doing so, he invites players to step into his shoes, sharing with them the disquiet and dread that haunts him. In offering a glimpse into his troubled psyche through his games, Gao Ming exhibits a unique form of generosity.

He once harbored an earnest aspiration: to transform all his creative concepts into tangible video games, thereby granting gamers across the globe the opportunity to delve into the captivating world of his genre.

When dreams take shape into reality, the outcome is typically one of elation, but for Gao Ming, the fruition of his dream took on an unexpectedly harsh contour.

In a solitary act, he carried a cardboard box heavy with his game design manuscripts to the restroom. There, Gao Ming produced a lighter and watched as the flames eagerly devoured his previous works, a pyre for his aspirations. In a poignant moment, he lit a cigarette using the very flames that rose from his incinerated dreams.

Having reduced his past endeavors to ashes, Gao Ming disposed of the remains and retreated to his office. It was there that he hoped to encounter Manager Gou’s cooperation in erasing the digital traces of his work from the studio’s computers.

Erasing the game designs that had failed to attract investors proved to be a straightforward task. However, there was one game, a completed romance game that had been the subject of discussion in Nightlight Studio’s meeting that very morning, which posed a greater challenge.

The game, poetically titled “To Our Love That Will Eventually Perish,” had been fervently pursued by Manager Gou. Leveraging his industry connections, Gou had gone to considerable lengths to sell this game for Nightlight Studio, viewing it as a pivotal asset for its future direction.

Manager Gou, confronting Gao Ming with a grave countenance and clasping his thermos, implored him by invoking their shared history and the studio’s dependence on the game for its survival. He painted a vivid picture of his personal circumstances: a man in his forties, burdened with the care of both his aging parents and his young children, and shackled by his commitments to the investors. Should this game not reach completion, Gou’s family faced the grim prospect of destitution.

While Gao Ming sympathized with Manager Gou’s predicament, he remained resolute in his decision. At present, Gou’s obligation to the investors is purely commercial. But if “To Our Love That Will Eventually Perish” were to be released, the company would unwittingly be entering a perilous contract with forces as unforgiving as death itself.

Unlike other games designed to extract money from players, Gao Ming’s creation threatened to extract the very lives of those who engaged with it—both the creators and the players would be ensnared with no chance of release.

Confronted with this reality, Gao Ming made a proposition as he powered up his computer. The core design of “To Our Love That Will Eventually Perish” was the handiwork of Wei Dayou, yet Gao Ming had injected his own ideas into it, particularly in the realm of murder cases. Of the nine girlfriend storylines woven into the game’s narrative, eight could remain untouched. But the ninth storyline—the one that bore the imprint of Gao Ming’s dark genius—was to be excised entirely.

The narrative of “To Our Love That Will Eventually Perish” unfolds the life of a pop culture enthusiast and academic underperformer whose world is turned upside down as he crosses paths with nine distinct women during different stages of his life. His interactions with a spectrum of personalities, such as a childhood friend fighting a serious illness, a stern yet warm-hearted executive, and a scheming character named Li Lüxin, are central to the plot. Wei Dayou, alongside the team at Nightlight Studio, crafted the first eight women’s stories, but their lack of extensive personal romantic experiences led to the creation of rather conventional love tales within the game.

Gao Ming, desiring to imbue the game with a unique edge, proposed an additional ninth narrative arc featuring Xuan Wen, a serial killer whose love, once pure and deep, curdles into a twisted fixation when spurned. She’s depicted as a chillingly smart woman with an uncanny ability to track the protagonist’s every move throughout the day with unnerving precision.

The inclusion of Xuan Wen’s dark storyline marked a turning point for the game, transforming it from a mere romance to a thrilling intersection of crime and the paranormal.

Upon hearing Gao Ming’s insistence on scrapping this ninth subplot, Manager Gou couldn’t be more relieved, enthusiastically agreeing to pivot back to creating a conventional romance game.

Gao Ming, adding a cautionary note, suggested: “Let’s limit the number of leading ladies—just one would suffice. And preferably, she should only marginally brush past the protagonist’s life. It’s enough if they can both simply live out their days peacefully into old age.”

Wei Dayou, confounded, questioned, “How can you have a romance game without significant interaction?”

Gao Ming countered that the contemporary trend leans towards a romance that’s more about serendipity and less about direct engagement. He suggested that the male lead might even live in relative seclusion, scarcely engaging with the world.

This recommendation stemmed from Gao Ming’s past experience: his family-oriented mini-games had always harbored the potential to take a dark turn, and he knew this romance game was no exception. Caution was paramount to prevent another shift into the macabre.

Wei Dayou, somewhat perplexed by Gao Ming’s serious tone and wondering if there was an undertone of sarcasm, reluctantly agreed. He believed the ninth storyline was the crux of the game, the element of suspense that gave it life, and its removal would strip the game of its thrilling anticipation.

As Wei Dayou prepared to amend the storyline on his computer, the office door swung open with an unexpected energy.

In an instant of apparent foreboding, the office’s usual sleepy and rotund cat let out a meow and scrambled behind a bookshelf, bristling with fear.

Apologies for the disturbance floated through the air from a gentle voice, a calming presence amidst the chaos of the rainstorm that had thwarted her efforts to hail a cab.

The team glanced toward the entrance where a woman stood, her attire lightly soaked by the rain, wearing a plain white blouse and skirt. This simple ensemble, however, couldn’t obscure her distinct aura.

Her smile was effortless, and her demeanor relaxed as if she was entirely unaware of the captivating beauty she possessed—or perhaps it was that her striking looks were just the most visible layer of a far more compelling essence.

“It’s perfectly understandable. We’ve been experiencing quite a storm over the past several days. These torrential downpours aren’t usual; don’t worry about it,” Manager Gou reassured the drenched arrival with an open gesture of welcome. Turning to Gao Ming, he introduced the newcomer, “This is Xuan Wen, a budding game designer who’s joining us. Interestingly, she shares her name with a secondary character from your recent project.”

Nightlight Studio wasn’t known for attracting top-tier talent due to its current standing in the industry.

Gao Ming, who was accustomed to dealing with the minds of criminals, fixed his gaze on the woman whose modest outfit did little to conceal a certain self-assured presence—a kind of quiet confidence that, in his experience, could be likened to the composed poise of a predator.

“Xuan Wen?” he addressed her.

“That’s me,” she replied.

“You share a name with a serial killer with deep-seated psychological issues from our game?”

There was a moment of surprised hesitation from the real Xuan Wen. Manager Gou swiftly intervened with a light-hearted comment, hoping to alleviate any awkwardness.

While the other team members extended their welcome without reserve, Gao Ming and the plump office cat were the only ones who seemed to deliberately maintain their distance from her.

Taking refuge at a spot farthest from Xuan Wen, Gao Ming discreetly pulled out his phone and initiated an online search for her, but the digital world returned no insights on Xuan Wen. Undeterred, he proceeded to enter the names of the female characters from “To Our Love That Will Eventually Perish” into the search engine.

One by one, he searched, and when he keyed in the name Li Lüxin, a chilling discovery surfaced: multiple news reports detailed the mysterious death of a woman by that name, found in her boyfriend’s wealthy home just two nights prior, her demise ruled a probable suicide.

“Could it be mere coincidence, or something more sinister? Is she embodying her namesake by actually committing the acts?” These thoughts raced through Gao Ming’s mind as he glanced towards Xuan Wen. The unsettling coincidence of her arrival at Nightlight Studio didn’t sit well with him—he couldn’t help but wonder if she was here with an ulterior motive that involved him.

A shiver ran through him, prompting Gao Ming to take immediate action. He swiftly cornered Wei Dayou, insisting that all the game concepts, especially those contributed by him, needed to be purged without delay.

This wasn’t just a trivial precaution; he felt compelled to oversee Wei Dayou as he meticulously deleted and altered the data.

By the time the afternoon rolled around, Gao Ming had ensured that all his contributions to Nightlight Studio’s projects were either wiped clean or substantially modified.

Staring at the now-empty documents, a wave of relief washed over him. As he exited the office with a cup of hot tea in hand, the previously lethargic cat mirrored his exit, its nimble escape belying its bulky frame.

“Are you attuned to the danger as well?” Gao Ming mused quietly, finding solace in a secluded area of the communal lounge where he began to stroke the cat. “You’re quite astute for a pet,” he thought, contemplating his next move.

The room slowly emptied out until, after about five minutes, the cat on the couch suddenly became lifeless, akin to a stuffed animal, unmoving and still.

Gao Ming’s instincts instantly kicked in. Standing up, he detected a subtle yet intoxicating scent that wafted through the air—a fragrance that was as alluring as it was foreboding.

Gao Ming wheeled around, his pulse quickening as he found Xuan Wen unexpectedly close, her presence undetected until she was almost within arm’s reach. Her fingers, slender and seemingly delicate, came to rest lightly upon his shoulder, effectively pinning him against the wall. “Husband, why do you act as though you don’t know me?” she queried, her tone casual yet incongruent with their apparent strangerhood.

The word ‘husband’ hung in the air, freezing Gao Ming’s features into a mask of shock. His grip on his water cup faltered, and it tumbled to the ground. The impact scattered droplets across the floor, some of them dotting their clothes in a silent testament to his startled reaction.

The compliment felt alien and surreal—Gao Ming had never been romantically involved with anyone; the very idea that he could be someone’s spouse was absurd. The situation was spiraling into a bizarre and unsettling realm.

Xuan Wen leaned in, her proximity overwhelming, as her soothing smile belied the unsettling words she spoke. “You’re eager to erase the games, but the nightmares you’ve been incubating have already leaped from your subconscious into the world three days ago,” she whispered, her voice tinged with an eerie calm. Her eyes, a mirror to his own trepidation, fixed on him as she continued, “Have you really forgotten that night in the tunnel? Should you need assistance jogging your memory, my door is open to you this evening.”

With movements that hinted at a history of close familiarity, Xuan Wen’s hands moved to adjust Gao Ming’s collar, a gesture typically reserved for those entwined by intimacy and years of companionship.

Her next words, spoken softly into Gao Ming’s ear, were laced with a chilling confession, “There’s no need to be concerned about danger, especially not from those ill-intentioned women who lusted after you,” she murmured. “I’ve taken care of them—I’ve killed them.”

In that moment, Gao Ming was ensnared not only by her physical closeness but also by the gravity of her words, leaving him to grapple with the reality that the fiction he had created might be collapsing into his actual life in the most terrifying way imaginable.

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