Because Takayuki was personally serving as a judge, this year’s ga developers’ competition was noticeably livelier than before.
Many developers had co specifically for Takayuki. They all wanted to et him in person and bring up the questions they’d long had about ga developnt, hoping that this ga god and industry legend could give them answers.
But before that, they at least had to register as official participants in the competition.
As a result, the scale of this year’s event suddenly increased fivefold.
In the past, the average number of participants in such competitions was only two to three hundred at most.
With an average of four people per team developing a ga, that ant around sixty to seventy teams competing for the championship.
This ti, however, the number of participants surged to over a thousand, making the entire venue feel crowded.
Fortunately, this kind of competition didn’t require providing standardized equipnt—every developer brought their own familiar computers to compete.
Otherwise, just preparing the hardware would have been a massive expense.
With over a thousand people, the number of participating teams reached around three to four hundred.
So were true indie ga developers.
Others were developers from large companies who were unwilling to remain stuck making assembly-line gas.
Seated at the judges’ table, Takayuki quietly observed everything.
These people were all very young—most of them around twenty-five or twenty-six years old.
Occasionally, a few elderly enthusiasts who loved gas would appear, but overall, young people dominated the crowd.
And now, Takayuki himself was no longer young.
In his previous life, he’d collapsed under the pressure of 996 work culture in his early thirties, carrying roughly thirty years of life experience.
When he transmigrated to this world, his physical age had been just over twenty.
And now, he had already lived in this world for a full twenty-six years.
If one were to add it all up, he was actually close to sixty years old.
Perhaps because of that, his mindset had beco extrely calm. Only when he encountered gas he truly loved did he still feel a spark of joy.
Now, seeing so many energetic young people full of hope and anticipation, passionately developing gas, he felt as if he himself had beco a bit younger.
Ti really did fly.
As Takayuki reflected on this, the ga developers’ competition was officially announced to begin.
This year’s competition was divided into different ga categories, which was a great benefit to developers of various specializations. They could focus more deeply on a single category without being easily distracted.
At the sa ti, there were also potential geniuses here—people unwilling to confine themselves to a single genre, determined to develop what they believed to be the best possible ga.
A ga developers’ competition like this wasn’t simply about holding a contest.
Otherwise, everyone’s gas might beco overly wild and unfocused.
That was why a bit of limitation—or rather, a clear goal—was necessary.
One could also say it was about providing a general direction.
So every year, there was a the for ga developnt.
That the could be a specific ga genre, or simply a single word.
As long as the ga you created aligned with that word, it qualified for the competition.
This year’s the had been chosen by Takayuki himself.
Its na was: Wings.
When Takayuki chose this word, he hadn’t thought too deeply about it—it simply represented a leap toward dreams, a chance to fly.
And so, the ga developers’ competition officially kicked off.
...
"Wow, I really didn’t expect this—the atmosphere here is amazing. None of the previous competitions felt this lively."
At one seat in the venue, a young man with an afro kept both hands on his keyboard, yet still found ti to glance around, checking what everyone else was doing.
He seed capable of multitasking—code continued to pour out rapidly on his screen, while his awareness of the surroundings never faltered.
"Hey, let’s hurry up and finish developnt, then get out of here," urged another young man sitting at the sa table, sounding anxious. "If the boss finds out we ca to this competition instead of properly working on the infinite-world project, he’ll probably dock our pay."
There were two other young n at the table as well.
The four of them were a team.
They all ca from the United States.
Not long ago, they had successfully landed jobs at a large ga company, finally securing stable and relatively safe employnt.
At the sa ti, they were still able to pursue what they loved.
The infinite-world ga they were working so hard on was their ultimate goal.
It was a ga that truly featured an infinite world.
A world filled with countless environnts and terrains, where players could roam endlessly without ever reaching an end.
With open-world gas being so popular right now, these young people were proud to believe that their ga would definitely be a massive hit.
However, the ga hadn’t been released yet, because several technical challenges still hadn’t been fully resolved.
Coming to London today was actually a mistake—they should have stayed back at the company, working hard to et their boss’s expectations and complete the infinite world as soon as possible.
But the afro-haired young man was the leader of the four.
He was the one who had first proposed the infinite-world concept, and he also possessed considerable talent in ga developnt.
More importantly, he loved lively environnts.
Especially a setting like this, where countless ga developers gathered together—he absolutely loved it.
So even though he never won any prizes in these competitions, he was still willing to participate every ti.
It sounded a bit strange.
Having talent in ga developnt, yet never placing in a competition—that wasn’t normal.
But the afro-haired young man didn’t care.
He simply enjoyed the present mont.
"Relax. My ga will definitely be one of the fastest to finish," he said casually, continuing to glance around while his fingers never stopped typing. "Once we’re done, we’ll hang around a bit and then head back."
From ti to ti, he turned his head to check his code, occasionally making adjustnts.
Having talent didn’t an cheating—basic checks and revisions were still necessary in ga developnt.
Even so, his performance was already impressive enough.
The competition’s developnt phase had a strict forty-eight-hour ti limit.
Within that ti, participants had to create the best ga they could.
Go over the limit, and they’d lose points—or even be disqualified.
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