"Cough, cough—can everyone hear me?"
Just as people were still chatting in small groups, a voice suddenly came through the speakers in the hall.
The crowd immediately quieted down and turned their attention toward the stage.
No one was on the stage yet—it seemed the voice was coming from the backstage broadcast area.
"Is Mr. Takayuki here already?" someone whispered.
"The timing's about right. He should be here soon, right?" another person said uncertainly.
"Heh. He'd better hurry up. I'm going to put him on trial right in front of everyone," Hanladi sneered, a trace of malice flashing in his eyes.
Because of Takayuki, he had fallen into debt.
If it weren't for Takayuki, he believed he'd already be rich by now, living it up without a care in the world.
Takayuki was the obstacle that had stopped him from becoming part of the upper class.
If he couldn't damage Takayuki's reputation today, he felt this trip would have been pointless.
In the stack of papers he carried were multiple contingency plans—responses prepared for every possible reaction from Takayuki.
Plans for if Takayuki dodged the question, if he flew into a rage, or if he arrogantly admitted everything outright.
In short, he was fully prepared to make this big shot embarrass himself.
"Alright, the livestream window is now open. Thank you all for waiting. The exchange meeting is about to begin. Game developers may start preparing their questions. Mr. Takayuki will be spending the entire day answering questions and engaging in discussion."
"The entire day? I thought it was just a few hours?"
People looked at one another in surprise.
They had assumed this would be more like a typical press conference.
But now it seemed… that wasn't the case at all.
It looked like Takayuki genuinely intended to have an in-depth exchange with developers.
"Countdown—three minutes. Mr. Takayuki has entered the venue. Please wait."
"One-minute countdown."
"Ten-second countdown."
…
"Three, two, one… music!"
Deng deng deng—deng deng deng!
A melody instantly recognizable to most of the developers in attendance filled the hall.
This tune was widely regarded as the beginning of the dream of video games.
Its protagonist was a character from a game—Super Mario.
Super Mario was now one of the most iconic figures in gaming history, an unsurpassable monument.
Using this melody—symbolizing the birth of gaming dreams—as the opening of the event was proof that the organizers had truly put in effort.
"He's here."
No one knew who said it first, but soon everyone saw a figure emerge from backstage.
A man dressed simply in casual clothes.
Time seemed to have left few marks on his face—he still looked sunny and full of vitality.
The light in his eyes seemed as if it would shine forever.
"Thank you all for waiting. Welcome, game developers."
Takayuki smiled warmly, sincerely meeting the gazes of everyone looking at him.
Some developers immediately showed expressions of admiration.
They were seeing their idol in person.
To these developers, Takayuki was a symbol of light itself.
Of course, some were indifferent—and some harbored anger and resentment.
"To be honest, I've wanted to hold more game developer exchange events like this for a long time," Takayuki said. "But over the past few years, I haven't had much free time. You all probably know—I've been deeply focused on developing Cyberpunk 2077. Fortunately, development is now in its final stages, and you'll be able to play it soon."
"But I didn't come here today to talk about myself, or to promote a game. Today is mainly about game development. If you have questions, or suggestions related to development, feel free to come on stage and talk openly."
As soon as he finished speaking, someone raised their hand.
It was a young developer, barely in his early twenties. His eyes sparkled with the same light Takayuki carried.
"Mr. Takayuki, I'm a huge fan of yours. I absolutely love your games. I have a question—I really want to make a rhythm game, but I don't know where to start. Could you give me some advice?"
"Of course," Takayuki replied. "The core of rhythm games lies in rhythm itself. If you want to start now, I suggest you first study musical rhythm and structure, rather than thinking about how to make the game. Game implementation can be left to Unreal Engine—it's extremely professional. But in the end, it's just a tool. The ability to express something meaningful depends on you."
Before he even finished, another person excitedly stood up.
"Mr. Takayuki! I'm the developer of Crazy Brain. My game type is a bit special—I think it's a brand-new genre. Could you give me some feedback?"
Takayuki shook his head apologetically. "I'm sorry—I haven't played your game yet, so I can't give you advice right now. But you can leave your name and contact information. If you truly want my opinion, I'll play it and give you a proper evaluation."
"Thank you so much!" the developer said happily, sitting back down.
Someone beside him whispered, "What kind of weird question was that? How could Mr. Takayuki have played your game? That question was pointless."
"But it means a lot to me," he replied. "And he said he'd personally play it and give feedback."
"He's incredibly busy. There's no way he has time to play your game—that's a joke."
Some people felt the question was unreasonable. They believed the discussion should focus on development methods or technical challenges. Asking Takayuki to evaluate a specific game felt like asking too much.
At that moment, Hanladi seized the opportunity. Before anyone else could speak, he raised his hand and spoke loudly:
"Mr. Takayuki, I'd like to ask—why did you take down certain games? I noticed they were all related to cyberpunk culture. Is it because you're worried they might affect the upcoming release of Cyberpunk 2077?"
As soon as he finished, Takayuki looked straight at him.
"You mean the games that were recently removed at my instruction—over a hundred of them?"
"Yes. Those games. Why did you take them down? Was it because you think they're too bad? Or because you believe they're not worthy of competing with Cyberpunk 2077?"
Hanladi's tone grew increasingly aggressive, clearly trying to pressure Takayuki.
Takayuki merely frowned slightly.
"Your wording is inaccurate. It's not that I think those games are bad. I'm certain they're bad. Their very existence is an insult to players. I was simply fulfilling the platform's responsibility."
"Oh? You're certain they're bad? And what gives you the right to be so certain?"
Takayuki looked at him strangely. "Didn't you hear me just now? I didn't say I think they're bad. I said I'm certain."
"Certain?"
"Yes. Certain."
Takayuki nodded, then asked, "May I ask—have you played the games I took down?"
"I—"
Takayuki continued, "Then let me ask everyone here. Are there any developers present whose games were taken down by me? Please raise your hand."
After about half a minute, Hanladi raised his hand. Soon, several others followed.
Takayuki looked at Hanladi. "So you're one of the developers whose game was removed. May I ask—what was the name of your game?"
"C-Cyberpunk 2078."
Snort—
"That's shameless. It's blatant hype-riding. The name's almost identical!"
Takayuki nodded in realization. "So you made that game? I do remember it. A third-person game about rampaging through a city—very similar to GTA. But I have to say, it had no story, no innovation in gameplay, and was riddled with bugs. If I were to make such a game, it would take me one night. That kind of work is careless and disrespectful to players. That's why I took it down."
Hanladi was stunned.
What…?
How did he know the game so well?
Ignoring his shock, Takayuki walked over to a computer on the stage, connected to the large screen behind him.
"To be honest, the foundation of this game isn't terrible. With a bit more care, it wouldn't be so bad. Let me show you."
He turned on the computer, projecting the desktop onto the big screen.
Several game icons were visible—including Cyberpunk 2078.
"Let's use this game as an example," Takayuki said calmly. "Let's see if we can improve it—if we can give it a complete makeover."