I thought deeply.
Should I be glad that I've discovered the true face of the person I thought was my friend, or should I be sad?
"You are in trouble. You are too stubborn. What was it you said? Art pursuit? Masterpiece obsession? You are too innocent.You still believe that pushing for artistic value will lead to profits through gaplay. They say that the business division gets excited just hearing the na Cheon Yeonho."
"Wow, you're being pretty harsh, Chief."
"It's the truth. Anyway, it's annoying. We have to start a new project again."
"Oh, the one which he got assigned?"
"What can I do? He asked to do it. You guys ssed up big ti again."
In the end, I ca to the conclusion that I should "quietly leave."
That guy was the candidate for director who had successfully completed three major projects, while I was the troublemaker who left ambiguous results on the projects I handled.
For example, no matter how hard I tried, the picture turned out ugly.
There was always a saying I heard.
"Yeonho, what on earth do you an by proposing an inoperable system? Huh? How are we supposed to run a ga that only uses in-ga currency? Where is the developnt cost going to co from?"
The claim that my ga lacked comrcial viability.
"Core users? Great! The ranch must be vast for cash cows to be sturdy. But cash cows can't survive on this ranch. Why? Because even if they want to graze, there's no grass to eat! This is a weedlesss field!"
The claim that the ga doesn't understand the users' needs.
"Is this fixed? I don't see a place for random items. Revise it again!"
The directive to align with the company's policies.
I willingly followed.
I was a company employee, and I was also the responsible person leading the projects.
This was the result:
"Sigh... Yeonho, let's stop here for this project. It's in the red."
"I'm sorry. I'll work hard."
"You always just work hard. You should do well."
When I tailored things to their taste, they'd complain that it tasted bad.
There was always a phrase I kept inside.
"Gas don't sell because they're not fun."
In a ga where I only thought about how to sell from the planning stage to completion, what kind of fun did they expect players to feel?
Is spending money fun? Spending money needs to be enjoyable too.
Even when I carefully crafted the design docunts, they were torn apart, leaving only the paynt screen. What should I do?
They ca up with this result after dissecting the ga, but it still wasn't clear whose fault it was.
Maybe I should have said that.
Now, I'm not sure anymore.
I haven't achieved anything according to my wishes, yet the responsibility is mine.
The words about keeping the essence of the ga intact turned into an enthusiast for art and masterpieces.
I just keep thinking.
"What on earth am I doing?"
This treatnt, this environnt—what did I want to do surrounded by these?
As the recollections continued, the dilemma deepened, and it beca a sickness of the heart.
The na of the sickness was doubt.
"Could I really be wrong?"
Is the ultimate goal of a ga really just about profit?
Is the business model more important than the ga's systems?
Have I been ignoring that fact alone?
Was I really an outsider in a town of normal people?
"Believing that profits will rise if you emphasize gaplay."
Those words didn't leave my mind.
Even though I had many argunts to counter them, I couldn't easily do it.
I felt like a naive adult, lost in a dream and unable to see reality.
The thought that the path I had believed in all my life might end in a cliff was eating away at .
I had to make a decision.
Whether to accept that I might be wrong like that guy said, or to continue believing in myself till the end.
In the midst of it all, I realized that I was, in fact, as stubborn as he said.
"Quit my job?"
"Sure."
"Yeah, let's hear the reasons. Why?"
"I want to take on solo ga developnt."
"···Ah, solo ga developnt. Nice. It's romantic. You'll do well. I'll support you. Let know when you release it."
"Sure."
The mont I ntioned quitting my job, the eyes that used to hold a strange disdain now showed a hint of delight.
Those eyes seed to be saying.
-Just by looking at you, it's clear you're going to fail.
As if defying that, I thought to myself.
"No."
I wasn't wrong.
Nevertheless, having worked for a certain number of years, I had a substantial severance package.
I had saved up money separately, and since I wasn't married, there weren't many places my funds would drain into.
I had accumulated know-how and acquired skills.
From the start, with a background in programming and a shift to becoming a planner, I wasn't greatly hindered by technical issues.
Moreover, there was a genre I wanted to try.
I had systems I wanted to implent, stories I wanted to tell.
I began developnt.
Starting from planning, moving to design, creating prototypes, and full-fledged developnt, I didn't rest much.
"To believe that profits will rise if you emphasize gaplay."
I tried to dismiss those words.
My driving force was indignation.
"What's so bad about it?"
What could possibly be bad about pursuing gaplay in a ga?
What's wrong with adding detail to the world, depth to characters, intricacy to systems, and contemplating gaplay?
Isn't that natural?
If it's a ga, shouldn't it be ga-like?
Since when did gas beco about showing off wealth?
Since when did they beco disposable items for brief enjoynt, forcing mindless repetition as labour?
From the start, the essence of gas was the experience.
It was about experiencing a new world, achieving through actions within it, and gaining a sense of accomplishnt.
It was about preserving that process as a mory for a long ti to co.
When you strip away all the secondary factors that was the truth.
"Let's be realistic."
That's wrong.
That's not facing reality; it's compromise.
Those guys are afraid of failure and have given up on challenges.
They've beco consud by imitating success and have covered their eyes with the numbers denoted as revenue.
"I was right."
I wasn't wrong.
I didn't compromise, and I didn't back down.
You guys, you're the ones who are wrong.
You just want to belittle for attempting what you can't do.
Anxiety clashed with certainty.
Perhaps that's why, before I knew it, the ga I was developing began to transform into a manifestation of my identity.
It was a ga that dealt with a certain life and emotions as if possessed.
Whenever the playable character took a step forward, the world denied them.
The more resolutely they moved forward, the stronger the pressure bore down on them.
It made the path forward doubtful, and at the slightest misstep, it forced them to turn back.
Anxiety, anger, despair, pain, and the like, were instilled to make them compromise.
The only way forward was through conviction.
With unbreakable certainty, they repeatedly struck the walls until they shattered.
It was the foot of the heart that aid to convey the value of challenge.
I rely wanted to tell myself to believe in and move forward.
The ga I created with such intentions could only be completed as my ailnt began to take its toll on .
[Identity.]
A story where soone who remained steadfast in the face of suffering, even while being tossed by the waves of separation, finally finds happiness—this was the ga that players experienced for about twelve hours.
My story was released to the world.
For the first ti in years, I took a sip of alcohol that day.
A sense of liberation spread throughout my body.
For a while, I mulled over the past few years.
Only after going through that process did I realize.
"How have you been? I heard your recently released ga won an award! I wanted to congratulate you, so I contacted you!"
I succeeded in proving myself.
"I played it and it's really great! What should I say... I was glued to it the whole weekend without realizing how tired I was? The imrsion was...!"
I received the highest honour in the industry.
Although due to the limitations of being a one-person developer, I ventured into the indie ga realm, and my awards were limited to the indie category, it was still a clear validation.
Internally, I shouted.
It was a hollow cry that couldn't reach anyone.
"Look, I was right."
The important thing in the ga is not the business model, but the inherent fun.
It was about gaplay, or in other words, completeness.
What was wrong wasn't ; it was you.
"Award ceremony is today, right? You're probably on a plane right now! Have a safe flight!"
It was the voice of a team mber who had been in touch until the end.
As I listened, my head began to spin.
Upon reflection, it seed I had been like that recently.
Although I should have taken a flight like asked, my body didn't have the strength for it.
"...Thank you."
The mont I stood up from my seat.
Ding—!
Dizziness struck.
No, it was more than that.
My vision turned white, and I felt my breath stop.
It was clearly a sensation signalling the end of an activity, even stronger than before.
'Ah.'
Crash!
I couldn't catch my falling body.
All that remained was a gasping collapse to the ground.
"[C-Chief...?]"
The voice grew distant.
My field of vision was tainted black.
My consciousness faded.
My breathing ceased.
Gradually, the end arrived.
"[Chief! Chief!!!]"
Death from overwork.
It was the ultimate fate of a fool who tornted himself in pursuit of validation.
***
A hallucinogenic effect caused by brain's chemical reactions.
Such a thought ca to mind, but I imdiately rejected it.
Instinctively, I could realize.
I had fallen into Hell.
Aaah!!!
Countless screams and laughter were mixed in a scene that unfolded before my eyes.
It was a world I couldn't possibly comprehend based on my common sense.
Well, a world that incessantly expanded and contracted, transforming the scenery every ti, didn't exist within the dinsions I knew.
I saw sinners spread out on the crimson ground, twisted and contorted.
I saw sinners becoming their own idols, hanging on crosses, and sinners endlessly being killed by lives they had taken.
I saw sinners turning into possessed demons, tearing each other apart, and sinners crying out and praying in distant tranquillity.
I saw countless other things.
During that mont, not even once did I recall why I was there.
"I have to look."
Captivated by the strange sense of duty to just take all of this in with my eyes, I tornted my mory.
It was clear that I had gone insane.
Even though none of it was under my will, even though not a single thing was anything other than horrifying, even though it was a form that infinitely stimulated the fears imagined by humans.
Yet, at the mont when I finally managed to take it all in,
"Wow..."
I felt excitent, not fear.
Thump, my heart pounded.
More intensely than when I was alive, even though I was already dead.
It was an excitent akin to eting one's first love again.
I might not have known that I was being punished for killing myself in order to make a ga.
No, it was clear.
If that was the case, there was no way to explain the insatiable thirst blooming now.
I just thought.
"I want to create."
I wanted to capture this world in the form of a ga.
I thought it would be so much fun if it were turned into a ga.
Ideas overflowed.
As I had my whole life, I dressed the informational imprints in my brain with ga-like systems.
Like a massive tidal wave, it shook my reason.
And then, the space in front of turned pitch black.
"Yeonho! Wake up from your sleep!"
That was the last mont I rembered from Hell.
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