"Rewriting plotlines is, without a doubt, the biggest headache."
As lunch break approached, Tetsu Fuyukawa sat by the floor-to-ceiling window in his office, sipping oolong tea. He slumped back in his plush boss's chair, staring blankly at the towering buildings of Akihabara outside. Swiveling the chair, he turned his gaze to two documents open on his computer screen.
[Dave the Diver, Shark Village Plot Revision]
[Sekiro, Female Ninja Plot Revision]
Both Word documents were packed with plot analyses, gameplay descriptions, key mechanics for the current storylines, and even embedded images for clarity. Together, they spanned over a hundred pages, but…
With a pained glance at the files, Tetsu tapped the keyboard, adding "Draft" to both titles.
"The female ninja route in Sekiro doesn't just need a plot overhaul—it needs new bosses too. The original Sekiro's a male character with a hard-hitting, bold fighting style. To capture a female ninja's allure—sexy, agile, fierce yet charming—we need boss battles tailored to her vibe to make players feel awesome. Am I being too ambitious?"
Tetsu took another sip of oolong tea, his eyes reflecting both frustration and determination.
Hidetaka Miyazaki—a name that sounds ordinary but carries weight. In a gaming industry worth $300 billion, Miyazaki became a programmer at 29 and carved out a legacy with the Souls series, rising to the top. His talent? One in a hundred thousand, if not rarer—more exclusive than a national exam top scorer. Adding personal touches to a game by a creator of his caliber, especially while matching his style, was a colossal challenge.
The hardest part wasn't technical skill—it was style.
There are plenty of Souls-like games, but players can instantly spot the difference between Miyazaki's works and imitators like Code Vein, Lies of P, or Nioh. Blending new content into Sekiro without making players feel like "Did they swap out the director or what?" was a tightrope walk. One misstep could tank the game's reputation!
Yes, even just adding new content could spark backlash. In today's traffic-driven era, some content creators thrive on tearing games apart, magnifying every flaw with clickbait titles like "This Game's Huge, But Don't Bother Playing It."
Elden Ring faced this too. Its snowy mountain region felt vast but empty, and the Fire Giant boss fight was a snooze. Those issues fueled a wave of videos slamming the game for "falling off." Thankfully, Elden Ring's other strengths drowned out the noise.
Sticking to Sekiro's original plot and skipping new missions would guarantee solid reviews, but…
"I've got to do it."
Tetsu downed his oolong tea, a spark of resolve in his eyes.
No question—playing it safe was the smartest move. Make Sekiro as is, bank some cash, then create his dream game later. But people get lazy!
Look at some big Chinese game studios. They might start with "We'll copy others to make money, then create our own stuff." But once copying rakes in easy cash, unless the market shifts drastically, they rarely pivot to original work.
Once your drive fizzles, reigniting it is like climbing a mountain. Besides…
"I won't get much profit from Sekiro. This game's main purpose is to show the industry my ability to handle big projects, my vision for game design, and the technical strength of my core team."
Exactly—Sekiro was a billboard, a showcase to attract talent for his future independent ventures!
In that case, even if the new content clashed slightly with the game's style, as long as it demonstrated strong technical skills, gameplay innovation, and project management, he'd still draw top talent!
"The risk is manageable. No need to overthink it."
With that realization, Tetsu felt his mind lighten. But soon, his attention shifted to the Dave the Diver document.
As the debut title from MINTROCKET, a new studio, Dave the Diver sold 500,000 copies in its first week with minimal marketing, eventually nearing four million—a true dark horse hit.
But it wasn't flawless. As a first project with limited investment, it shone early on but stumbled mid-game, especially in the Shark Village arc, where its weaknesses showed.
The issue? Similar to Elden Ring.
In Elden Ring, the snowy mountain region tanked the game's freshness, with players noting sparse content, thin plotlines, and a big but empty map. Enemies felt like reskins—same models, just beefed up with more health, armor, and damage. It was like "At level 1, I'm smacking shrimp with a broken stick," versus "At level 80, I'm fighting True Overlord Sunset Shrimp with a +12 Earth-Shattering Thunder Staff."
The root cause?
Either Miyazaki was holding back for a big DLC to flesh out the snowfields, or he'd run out of steam.
The story wasn't done, but the budget or creative juice had dried up, so they padded it with reskinned enemies and a sprawling, empty map to stretch playtime and keep the game trending.
Dave the Diver had the same problem.
Its early gameplay was stellar, but as a modestly funded debut, it threw all its mechanics at players early. To extend playtime in the Shark Village arc, the plot dragged on, bloated and aimless.
In short: filler.
Pure filler.
Nothing left to say but still chasing profit? Pad it out.
The best fix? Add more fresh content.
"Dave the Diver's core elements are underwater adventure, fishing, management, and cuisine."
"Underwater adventure and fishing are maxed out—unless we toss in Cthulhu, but that'd change the game's vibe entirely. So, to patch the gaps, I'll expand the restaurant management module and the cuisine module, which the original didn't emphasize but players loved."
"Hmm, no plot changes, but I'll add more management and cuisine content to the Shark Village arc. Those two modules…"
Musing aloud, Tetsu spun his chair, tapping his dress shoes on the floor. Just then, the office door opened.
Amid the lunchtime chatter from the hallway, Sayoko walked in with her handbag. "Still stressing over the plot?"
"Pretty much figured it out. Oh, you look gorgeous today—come here, let me give you a hug."
Swiveling his chair, Tetsu grinned and opened his arms.
Sayoko was in her work uniform, but as the art team lead for Dave the Diver under Miyano's guidance, she'd swapped her understated gray suit for a chic leather pencil skirt, a sophisticated white blouse, and round, frameless glasses.
Compared to before, she was less subdued and more elegantly refined.
The look hit Tetsu's sweet spot. Last night, the moment they got home, he'd pinned her at the entryway, leaving her round glasses smudged.
Perhaps recalling last night, Sayoko's cheeks flushed, but she nestled into Tetsu's arms obediently. Feeling his firm embrace, she adjusted her glasses and said shyly, "Not during the day—it's such a hassle to redo my makeup."
"Come on, what's that dirty mind of yours thinking? I just want a hug," Tetsu teased.
"Hmph, you big wolf!"
Feeling his deep breath against her neck, Sayoko squirmed in his lap, relaxed, twirling her hair. "Miyano said she's off to an internal meeting at TGS, so it's just us for lunch. What do you feel like, Tetsu-kun?"
After last night's antics and no ready meals, Sayoko hadn't packed a bento.
At her question, Tetsu nipped her pale neck lightly and grinned. "How about food? It's been a while."
"I'm good with that."
Sayoko nodded, standing from his lap. But at the door, she noticed Tetsu hadn't followed. He was staring at his screen, brows furrowed oddly.
"What's up?"
Sayoko tilted her head, but Tetsu's frown soon eased, a smile spreading as he strode over, cupped her face, and planted a kiss under her shy gaze.
"Holy crap, how did I miss such an obvious answer?!"
"Huh? What answer?"
As a seasoned couple, a kiss didn't faze Sayoko much, though her cheeks still reddened. She looked at Tetsu's beaming face, puzzled.
"cuisine! I said the game needs more gameplay, right? I was focused on expanding management and cuisine, but since the game's style leans Western, I overlooked food!"
Tetsu's eyes gleamed.
Dave the Diver was made by MINTROCKET, a studio under South Korea's NEXON—y'know, the folks behind MapleStory and KartRider. Korean studios, well, let's just say they don't have much standout cuisine of their own and rarely promote culture. So, the game leaned heavily on Japanese dishes!
Objectively, Japan's a global food powerhouse. Japanese cuisine is unique and tasty, but its fame? That's largely due to Japan's knack for cultural promotion.
Take "Goku." To many Westerners unfamiliar with Asian culture, it evokes Dragon Ball, not Journey to the West. Dragon Ball's great, but compared to Journey to the West—a classic steeped in history and humanity—it's not even close.
Same with food. Japanese cuisine's got a big name
No matter how good something is, without a platform young people vibe with, it stays obscure.
"Sitting on a treasure trove and not digging it up—what are those guys thinking?"
Tetsu shook his head but didn't dwell. The key now? Adding cuisine could massively expand Dave the Diver's culinary gameplay and content!
"That said, while the overall style doesn't need a big overhaul, the restaurant and protagonist's designs will need tweaks. Since it's a fishing game, some ingredients are tough to source.
That's tricky to fix. Adding land-based elements would spike costs, but I could add a trading post where players swap seafood for land ingredients like chicken, duck, pork, or beef! Heck, I could save this idea for a future solo project—a game covering both land and sea!"
The more he thought, the more excited he got. Under Sayoko's bemused yet fond smile, Tetsu—who'd just put on his suit jacket to head out for lunch—darted back to his desk, furiously typing.
Sayoko didn't say much, just smiled, set her handbag down, and poured two cups of hot tea. She pulled up a stool beside him, quietly watching and jotting notes in her notebook.
Thankfully, it was just a spark of an idea. Expanding it required more research. Tetsu could cook food, but he wasn't a gourmet. His skills came from necessity—growing up poor and alone, unable to afford restaurants, he taught himself.
His knowledge of cuisine was mostly "the eight major styles are awesome."
Without deeper knowledge, the proposal wouldn't come together.
No need to stress. As the clock hit 1:30 p.m. and employees trickled back to work, Tetsu slipped on his suit jacket, made calls to find culinary experts, and headed with Sayoko to Heavy Gunner restaurant in Shinjuku.
Yup, Heavy Gunner.
Parts of I'm Surrounded by Beautiful Women were filmed there, and when Tetsu brought Himawari Izumi for her stage performance, he'd built a rapport with the owner. Plus, this place served authentic cuisine.
Japan had plenty of restaurants, but many tweaked dishes for local tastes. Japanese palates lean lighter, so some Sichuan spots—betraying tradition—offered spice-level options. Many were even run by Japanese chefs trained in cooking.
Heavy Gunner was different.
It prided itself on authenticity, hiring chefs from at premium salaries. They'd know the eight culinary styles inside out, and the owner had solid industry connections.
Plus, Tetsu was craving hot pot.
No question—when his black BMW pulled up to Heavy Gunner, the owner, tipped off by a call, was already waiting at the entrance!
Waiting in person!
No mystery why. To cut costs or attract investment, Tetsu had floated the idea of naming the in-game restaurant Heavy Gunner.
The owner lost it!
Kidding aside, running a big restaurant in Shinjuku already screamed wealth and connections. But Tetsu? He was Japan's youngest game director with a multi-million-selling title!
When I'm Surrounded by Beautiful Women filmed at Heavy Gunner, the restaurant rode a wave of popularity as the game blew up.
Now Tetsu was odr a culinary-themed game, even offering to feature their restaurant's name!
The owner was beyond thrilled!
So, as the BMW parked, he greeted them with cheongsam-clad hostesses, personally opening the door amid the stunned gazes of nearby shop staff who knew his status.
Tetsu was used to the attention. Smiling, he shook the owner's hand and followed him to a second-floor private room. But as they sat, Sayoko's eyes lingered curiously on the hostesses' elegant cheongsams.
"Tetsu-kun seems really into culture. Maybe I should get a custom cheongsam made? But… isn't that slit a bit too high?"
The fleeting thought brought a shy glint to her eyes. As the spicy hot pot arrived, her focus shifted to the food.
Noticing Tetsu was too busy talking business to enjoy his favorite lamb rolls, Sayoko thoughtfully started cooking and serving him.
The owner praised her as the perfect wife.
That phrase—perfect wife—made Sayoko's already-flushed face (thanks to the spicy pot) turn redder. But after so long with Tetsu, often taking the "main wife" role in public, she was used to it.
Instead of sneaking shy glances at him like before, she smiled warmly, serving him food. Under the table, her stockinged foot slipped out of her heel, playfully brushing Tetsu's leg.