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The New Year was drawing closer, and today was the last weekend before the holiday, with heavy snow falling.
My dad, Frank, and my mom were still on their way back. Dad even chuckled on the phone, saying he wanted to stop by Hong Kong to experience the New Year atmosphere there. Evan, at this moment, doubted his memory—was this really how biological parents treated their child?
Extremely bored, he invited Emily to work overtime at the company, and after much coaxing, she agreed to come and keep him company for a while.
So, in the office, Evan was hunched over his desk, writing furiously, while Emily washed a box of fruit for herself and ate it while browsing social media.
Without even looking, Evan knew Emily was looking at the official account for Swallowing Heaven and Earth. Strictly speaking, this game was Emily's first work, and for a creator, a work is no different from a child.
However, as a gaming expert who used to frequent game forums, Evan also knew that games with microtransaction systems were more prone to negative reviews.
Sure enough, after Emily lay there scrolling for less than two minutes, she said angrily:
"Do these people even understand games? One says the items in the shop are too expensive, another says it's too tiring to play without spending money. Don't they understand that whether you buy items in the shop or not is optional, and I've planned the game's duration according to daily tasks, so it shouldn't be considered tiring."
Evan stopped typing, leaned back, stretched his neck, and let out a comfortable groan, earning him a familiar eye-roll from Emily.
Evan thought for a moment and said:
"You don't need to worry too much about this. Actually, many old sayings made it very clear: there's no such thing as a free lunch. Modern society's games are mostly commodities. If you don't want to spend money, you can only put in effort. Even if you want to play card games, you still have to buy a deck of cards first."
"Of course, most players don't care about these things. For them, there are only two simple points: if they're unhappy in the game, they come to the official account to vent. As for us, we don't need to care about these things. For us, data is far more useful than these venting words. Hmm, you specialize in numerical values, so you should understand more than I do."
Emily bit her finger in frustration, mumbling indistinctly:
"Of course I know all this, but it's just annoying. What's wrong with charging for microtransactions? We have to support ourselves first, right?"
Seeing Emily's adorable expression, Evan let out a "pfft" of laughter:
"I didn't realize you had a habit of biting your finger."
Emily's face instantly turned bright red, and she said fiercely:
"It's a personal habit. Sometimes I do it when I'm thinking. You quickly forget about it, do you hear me!"
Evan spread his hands:
"No way, it's deeply ingrained in my memory, probably unforgettable. But, regarding these players, they might not necessarily harbor ill will towards us."
With that, Evan leaned back, looking at the ceiling, and said in a lowered, magnetic voice:
"The essence of human nature is not good or evil, but rather the avoidance of pain and the pursuit of pleasure.
We only need to help them escape pain, and then dig a few small puddles on the path to happiness, so that they will be especially happy when they reach the destination of joy."
Emily looked at the deliberately profound Evan in surprise:
"I didn't expect you to be quite profound. Did you figure that out yourself?"
Evan nodded shamelessly:
"I copied it, but I forgot who said it. Just pretend I said it."
Emily scoffed, showing her disdain, then ungracefully flopped onto the sofa. Evan stood up and happened to see this scene. Emily's creamy white blazer contrasted sharply with the burgundy sofa, and her soft dark hair spread out on the sofa made her face appear even more delicate and charming.
"What a temptress," Evan sighed inwardly. He knew that the number of male employees in the company who had feelings for Emily could almost form a fan club. However, Emily had both beauty and talent, and now with the success of the game, she also had money.
Basically, no one had the confidence to actually make a move.
Looking at Emily, who was somewhat slumped on the sofa, Evan inexplicably felt a tiny pang of heartache.
"You're not really that interested in browser games, are you?"
Evan didn't wait for Emily to answer and continued on his own:
"You said before that you played a lot of Stellarium games when you were little. Stellarium is a company that focuses on single-player games, or rather, on the storylines of single-player games. How could you, having grown up playing such games, like browser games where you can get stronger just by spending money?"
Emily said gloomily:
"Actually, I'm not that delicate. I also know you have to maintain the company. Although everyone seems to be working together now, if you can't pay next month's salaries, everyone will go their separate ways. I just said we have to support ourselves first, but then I..."
"It's a very normal thing," Evan interrupted her.
"I don't like it either, but for now, we can only temporarily do this. You saw our R&D last year—even the browser game was full of stumbles, and I had to borrow people from Silver Ridge. Even if we weren't short on money at that time and went straight into it, I estimate the bodies would already be cold by now."
"But," Evan said seriously, "I haven't forgotten what I said when I tricked you—ah no, when I brought you over. I promised you that next year, our truly first major production will definitely be launched."
Emily's eyes lit up at his words, and she blurted out:
"You have an idea?"
Evan shook his head with a bitter smile:
"I have many ideas, but we have to consider our own capabilities, so we're still planning."
"I'll review them for you." Emily immediately took the notebook and started flipping through it.
"Hmm, genre: puzzle, solving a series of 3D puzzles through a device that allows the protagonist to open small portals. Production difficulty: easy."
"Let me see the next one."
"Hmm, genre: action, adapting existing history and reorganizing it into a thousand-year struggle between two organizations themed on order and freedom, interspersed with historical figures and events, allowing players to personally experience important moments in history. Production difficulty: hard."
"This one looks more interesting, but it's clearly more difficult too."
"There's also one: genre: shooting. The people of an entire town are infected with an unknown virus, and all have become a kind of living corpse. In their necrotic brains, only the craving for flesh remains. Now you and your small team are only four people, with four guns, two medical kits, and two machetes. You must work together to break through the siege. Production difficulty: medium."
"This sounds a lot simpler, but it seems to overlap a bit with your current Killing Planet?"
"It does a bit," Evan nodded. "But in reality, they are completely different types of games. For Killing Planet, I added more random elements. I call this genre roguelike, inspired by RPGs, increasing uncontrollable factors, where only players with a good overall view can pass. As for this last one, it's a pure stage-based game. The penalty for death isn't as severe, and it emphasizes teamwork more, making it simpler than Killing Planet."
As Emily listened to Evan's explanation, she flipped through the notebook, and upon seeing the detailed settings and storyboards later on, she couldn't help but admire:
"That's amazing. It's as if these games have already been completed in your mind. But isn't it not so good that I've seen them?"
Evan gave an awkward smile, thinking: I can't tell you that I've already played all these games.
Then he said: "So what if you've seen them? For many companies now, it's not a lack of good ideas, but a lack of a mature team. That's our situation right now."
"There are plenty of talented people, but it's really not easy to mold them into a mature team," Evan sighed.
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