To ascend, I had no choice but to create games

Chapter 8: Set Up a Studio_1

"'Towards Death and Life,' a letter from the deceased to the living."

"Highly recommended, a thousand years of solitude, just for your arrival."

"Fun, no explanation needed."

"The only downside of the game is that it's actually a horror game, well, it's a bit short, which is indeed quite terrifying."

"Alpha, my daughter!"

"Upstairs, you're my father-in-law!"

"Get lost! You cyber copper-refining addict!"

"Get lost! Alpha is over a thousand years older than us!"

"The game creator Fang Cheng is undoubtedly a genius, but he also displays a unique and unmatched bad taste. 'The Forest's Second Son' already showed his talent in scene construction, and 'Towards Death and Life' showcases his excellence in storytelling. However, the former's name is tragic, and the latter's genre is a disaster. But if you ask me, the more of such wickedly talented geniuses, the better."

Fang Cheng lay in bed, looking at the reviews on the Steam platform, feeling a bit incredulous.

Tens of thousands of recommendations pushed the game into the "overwhelmingly positive" category, indicating that most players found the game to be very enjoyable.

The Steam platform even gave it a special small section, which was like free promotion.

But...

What he intended to make was clearly a horror game!

The massive creatures should have brought an indescribable sense of oppression, the helpless climbing process should have been filled with danger and suffocation, and frequent failure should have made the players frustrated.

So why...

What made you think the game is therapeutic and the characters are cute?

Is it really that hard to have a unified understanding of what's fun?

Just as Fang Cheng was pondering with a frown, a phone call came in.

Seeing that it was from Mr. Shen, Fang Cheng answered the call and then heard Mr. Shen's excited voice.

"Fang Cheng, you really did it!"

"Mr. Shen, I..."

"I thought you wanted to make a horror game, but it turned out to be a platform-jumping game. You do have a sense of humor, but don't do it like this next time."

"I really..."

"You can't waste your talent; let that idiot KongKong who lacks vision go to hell. A guy who's only thinking about money has no right to manage a genius like you. I'm planning to persuade Tianyi to set up a new studio, and you'll be the producer."

"But..."

"Don't want to go? Oh, I get it, working for someone else really isn't cool. How about this, I'll help you apply for an office, and you can start your own studio. I still have some influence and can help you get an interest-free loan, as support for newcomers. It doesn't matter if you can't pay it back; I'll cover for you."

"..."

"Hire a few more people, go for a big one. And don't make free games anymore; you need to charge for games."

Fang Cheng finally got a chance to speak and quickly asked, "Why should I charge money?"

Even through the phone, Fang Cheng could sense the other person's confusion.

Half a minute later, Mr. Shen finally said, "You can't dig someone else's road."

After Mr. Shen's explanation, Fang Cheng finally understood.

Games, actually, are quite a money burner.

Even if AI technology has advanced a great deal, art requires money to burn, programming requires money to burn, planning and the trial-and-error costs of developing a gameplay also mean burning cash.

Some people can run on passion, but most game developers see games as a job, and normal instances of "free" don't threaten their livelihood.

But Fang Cheng was an exception.

The super high quality of his games would impact the gaming market and form an unhealthy effect.

When a new game appeared, others would point to Fang Cheng's game and say, "It's not as fun as the free game, and you have the nerve to charge money?"

While some trashy games might thus leave the market, over ninety percent of game developers would be ruined by this, ultimately a catastrophic blow to the gaming industry.

"Too clear a water holds no fish, and too keen an observation has no followers. The same applies to making games, a bit of bubble is healthy, do you understand?"

"I understand," Fang Cheng agreed wholeheartedly.

No wonder the older generation of game developers were so impressive, they saw the principles of economics so clearly.

And Mr. Shen was all about efficiency in handling affairs. It wasn't long before he had arranged a meeting at the bank for Fang Cheng, and within half an hour, a no-interest loan of five hundred thousand had been deposited into his account.

Not wanting to put too much pressure on Fang Cheng, Mr. Shen did not give money directly but applied for a loan instead.

This was not only a reflection of the mentor-disciple relationship but also the expectation of the older generation of game developers for the new generation.

Furthermore, Mr. Shen also got Fang Cheng an office space rent-free for two years. Coincidentally, the location of the office was just opposite Kongkong Studio of Tianyi, close enough that one could simply look up to see the other.

Embarrassed about this arrangement, Mr. Shen called Fang Cheng and said that if he disliked it, they could change it, no need to be polite.

But Fang Cheng didn't mind and declined the offer.

The office space was ready to use; although Fang Cheng mentioned he didn't need an entire floor, Mr. Shen insisted it was free and to just use it first.

The computers were also from Mr. Shen's previous studio. The batch was eighty percent new, and while it was said to be a loan, it was essentially a gift—and even included a bunch of gaming desks and chairs. In essence, Fang Cheng got a studio without spending a dime.

Even though he was an Immortal, Fang Cheng still felt the gift from Mr. Shen was too generous.

Unable to think of a way to repay him, Fang Cheng simply cultivated a batch of Spirit Grass, packaged it into tea leaves, and sent them to Mr. Shen, then sincerely asked, "Mr. Shen, is there anyone you dislike and want to get back at? If they're truly vile, it's not like I can't just take them out for you, and it'll be as if nothing happened."

Mr. Shen burst into laughter immediately and patted Fang Cheng's shoulder, saying, "I didn't expect you to have such a sense of humor, kid. Don't overthink it, I have my own selfish reasons."

"How about two, then?"

"Alright, enough joking. Game development is on the wane domestically; many games can only cater to niche markets or sell nostalgia, it's frustrating to watch. Though we're only in our forties, our way of thinking has solidified, and we have grown too cautious to make moves. Now seeing such a promising young talent as you, it's only right that I nurture you a bit."

"Mr. Shen, to be honest, I still don't really understand why games are fun."

"I don't get it either; who can claim to have completely grasped the essence of games? Games are truly an art form—you never know when or how your game will touch someone's heart and make them feel that it's fun. Anyway, don't put too much pressure on yourself, just stick to your own path and find your own way."

"...Thank you."

After expressing his heartfelt gratitude, Fang Cheng brought out his tea leaves and said to Mr. Shen, "I didn't bring any other gifts for the visit, but these tea leaves are cultivated by me; I hope you will accept them. Drinking a little every day will strengthen the body and even help with hair loss."

"You grew these yourself... Well, then I won't hold back. Hair loss and such don't matter."

After seeing Fang Cheng out, Mr. Shen took out the tea leaves from the jar and took a sniff beneath his nose, immediately feeling the fragrance wafting through the air.

He brewed a little with hot water and saw the cup fill with vibrant green tea, as if the entirety of springtime had been captured in it.

After taking a sip, the lingering taste left Mr. Shen sighing with satisfaction, "This is really good stuff."

Not sure if it was just his imagination, but after finishing a cup of tea, Mr. Shen felt refreshed and clear-headed, even his remaining hair seemed to have gained a shine.

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