"Takayuki, these games are nothing but trash. Yet by riding on the cyberpunk culture we worked so hard to build, they've actually made quite a bit of dirty money."
Ayano Tsukino walked up to Takayuki and slapped several game covers down onto his desk.
Takayuki glanced at the posters on the table, then nodded. "The cover designs aren't bad."
"Were you even listening to what I said?" Ayano Tsukino asked angrily.
"Of course. But this kind of thing is pretty normal—popular culture is always going to attract copycats."
"But these cyberpunk-style games are ruining the whole genre. I've already seen people starting to hate cyberpunk-related culture because of these games."
The covers on the desk all looked more or less the same.
Neon lights, mixed with a dystopian sci-fi art style—an easy way to highlight a cyberpunk atmosphere.
It reminded Takayuki of his previous life. Once cyberpunk became popular, every company wanted to make cyberpunk games, every company wanted to label their work as cyberpunk.
But in the end, only a handful were truly remembered. The rest were just opportunists who rode the wave to make a bit of quick money.
And people like that usually didn't have much of a future.
"Ruining a genre's reputation really is a problem. If this goes on, more and more people will start thinking cyberpunk is just trash culture. Just like…"
Just like when video games first became popular, bringing with them a flood of clones, knockoffs, and terrible games.
The Atari crash might have been triggered by Atari releasing some poor-quality titles.
But the rampant spread of bad games at the time was also one of the main causes of the collapse.
Now cyberpunk culture seemed to be showing similar signs.
If these garbage games were allowed to keep promoting 'cyberpunk,' players might start thinking cyberpunk itself was worthless and not even worth playing.
That would be extremely harmful to its long-term development.
"We have to find a way to deal with these people. We can't let them keep making money."
"Not letting them make money?" Takayuki said. "That's cutting off someone's livelihood. There's a saying I like: cutting off someone's income is like killing their parents."
"But the money they're making isn't honorable," Ayano Tsukino said with a frown.
"Come on—let's play these games first."
"…What?"
"Buy all of them and actually play them properly."
"What are you trying to say?" Ayano Tsukino was confused.
"You can't just call something a garbage game with one sentence. You should seriously play it first, then judge whether it's good or bad."
"But just look at those covers—"
The covers were highly homogenized, all neon-lit sci-fi styles, like products rolling off the same assembly line.
That was exactly why Ayano Tsukino disliked them so much.
She had also poured tremendous effort into the development of cyberpunk herself. Leading her 'Stanford legion,' she had worked tirelessly to solve countless technical challenges, helping bring such an outstanding game into existence. Takayuki treated Cyberpunk 2077 like his own child—how could she feel any differently?
She had already developed a deep emotional attachment to Cyberpunk 2077.
"A cover can't fully determine whether a game is good or bad. Let's experience them first, then make a proper decision."
"But aren't you already really busy right now—"
"Time can always be made. Playing other people's games is also part of the job. It helps us understand competitors and other developers, and gives us a clearer picture of the overall game development market."
"I can't argue with you," Ayano Tsukino said helplessly. "Do whatever you want. I just hope you find a way to really deal with these games."
Takayuki replied calmly, "If we truly wanted to suppress these games, it wouldn't be difficult. They rely on major platforms to publish their games—and right now, we are the platform. We represent the platform. With a single sentence, we could ban them outright. But being a platform also comes with responsibility. Removing all of them without justification wouldn't be appropriate. That's why I want to play them one by one."
Ayano Tsukino studied Takayuki's expression carefully.
"Why are you staring at me like that?"
"I'm wondering whether you really want to deal with these games… or if you're just looking for an excuse to slack off."
"You guess," Takayuki said with a smile.
Ayano Tsukino decisively ignored his counterquestion and asked instead, "Are you coming home tonight?"
"Of course. Playing games doesn't stop me from getting off work on time. I'll be home as usual."
"Then I'll cook and wait for you."
Ayano Tsukino left, while Takayuki logged into his Battle.net platform and began searching for the trash cyberpunk games she had slapped onto his desk.
Up to this point, Takayuki had always defined himself as a player—and that would never change. As a player, if you don't properly play a game, how can you be qualified to judge whether it's good or bad? So he had to play them first.
Takayuki believed there had to be more than just garbage among them.
Even in the vast ocean, there was always a needle—you just had to find it.
That said, with the recent acceleration in release pace on the Battle.net platform, overall game quality really did seem to have dropped significantly.
Battle.net had developed extremely rapidly over the past few years. At this point, thousands—if not tens of thousands—of new games were being added every year.
Yet genuinely good games were becoming fewer and fewer.
On the PC Battle.net platform, game review standards weren't as strict as on home consoles, mainly because the platform had originally positioned itself as being friendly to ordinary developers, giving them more freedom.
But now, that freedom seemed a bit too excessive.
Once this issue was dealt with, he'd need to add several new positions—but that could wait.
Takayuki clicked on one of the games and entered its main menu.
The game was called Cyberpunk: Tomorrow's Star.
Its core gameplay revolved around managing pop idols in a cyberpunk world.
That was actually a pretty good concept.
Even if it was likely just a reskinned simulation-management game, it at least seemed playable.
With that thought in mind, Takayuki entered the game and began playing.