To ascend, I had no choice but to create games

Chapter 241: Chapter 161: Dawn of the New Era (Three Updates)_2

At this time, he no longer complained that the game lacked French translation, but began to regret not taking the opportunity to learn Chinese for free when he could, feeling it unnecessary at the time.

“The Nameless” made him fall silent.

Western players generally accept higher difficulty levels. Back in the FC era, the American version was always a notch harder than the Sakura version.

They preferred challenging games with high difficulty, where the suffering was part of the enjoyment, and they demanded the production team make the games even harder.

Therefore, even though “The Nameless” quickly ramped up in difficulty, Alan felt it was still within his capacity to handle, but he remained troubled by the game’s historical background.

After completing it once, he sought out a translator to learn about that period of history, and then listened while quietly wiping away tears.

After drying his tears, he holed up for two days. When he emerged, he produced an electronic music score, made a simple arrangement, and posted it to a forum where it was immediately pinned and widely praised.

After that, he found related videos online, watching and taking notes, completely immersing himself in the history of that time.

In this moment, the power of culture revealed itself, making Qiu Yu realize that the cultural attributes of games were more formidable than imagined.

Then came “The Physician.”

This game had Alan’s blood boiling with excitement; it reminded him of the Paris Commune, the dawn of the revolution, and he joined other players in overthrowing the evil Demon Lord Temple to bring peace to the realm.

Alan also had a soft spot for the flora and fauna in “Botanic Garden,” especially enjoying walking his dog through the Botanic Garden or playing frisbee on the lawn for an hour at a time.

“The Supreme One” aroused Alan’s deep interest in Chinese ancient style, with concepts unique to China such as benevolence, righteousness, and propriety providing a breath of fresh air and sparking his intense interest in traditional culture.

After playing one game after another, Alan had nothing but admiration for Fang Cheng Studio.

Their creativity seemed boundless; it was as if they could endlessly produce newer and more innovative games, a quality that made Alan rather envious.

Cat and Mouse Entertainment, a venerable game company, was already showing symptoms of corporate sclerosis, with new projects constantly being hindered.

While profits from old games were enough to sustain them for a while, they needed a deeper moat and better, more competitive products.

“Magic Dynasty” was starting production on its competitive gaming, but what was clearly a fantastic project was, paradoxically, at risk because of its solid foundation.

There were endless appointments of personal proteges to the project, and some ignoramuses began to meddle, causing daily incidents that made Alan’s blood pressure spike, wishing he could fly back immediately, grab the managers by the collar, and yell, “Stop messing around, you fool!”

Sigh.

Feeling drained.

With this on his mind, Alan temporarily lost the desire to play games, left the VR unit, and went outside to look at the night scene.

The beginning of April in Rong City is its most beautiful season.

The opposite building where Fang Cheng Studio was housed had already closed for the night, making it hard to imagine that such an extraordinary producer was leading an outstanding team, tirelessly working to create one interesting game after another inside.

The window was open, and the night breeze blew through, stirring his blond hair, giving this handsome man from the other side of Earth an even more melancholic air.

“What’s on your mind?” Qiu Yu asked in French as he approached.

After spending over a month together, Qiu Yu had learned some French, and Alan had picked up some Chinese.

They could also communicate in English, so their conversations would jump between the three languages, and eventually, they had managed to engage in basic communication.

Looking at Qiu Yu, Alan thought for a moment, then voiced his dilemma.

After realizing what Alan was struggling with, Qiu Yu thought for a bit and then took out his phone to show Alan an exhibition.

“What is this?” Alan asked, puzzled.

“It’s an internal game expo at Tianyi where everyone can present a demo and then compete against each other. The winner gets a recommendation within Tianyi and can form their own production team to develop their games.”

“So, what does that have to do with me?”

“I want to participate, and I don’t have much time left.”

“You’ve got a terminal illness?”

Qiu Yu looked helpless as he watched Alan: “What I mean is, I want to move faster.”

“But you’re still very young.”

“Not that young anymore. The lifespan of people in the domestic gaming industry only goes up to thirty-five. After that age, if you don’t have a strong resume, you basically can’t stay. By that time, I’ll have to consider becoming a delivery man.”

Alan looked at Qiu Yu with confusion, not understanding why he was so eager.

What he didn’t know was that in the country, thirty-five was like a curse—as soon as you reached that age, you were optimized out of the system.

Game planners in this age group had plenty of experience, but their salaries were also high. In places like Tianyi it might be fine, but many places didn’t need such experienced planners and would just dismiss them when they reached that age.

After carefully listening to Qiu Yu explain the competition, Alan said, “Sorry, Qiu Yu, our contract stipulates that I can’t do this sort of thing in private.”

“Is that so…”

“However, I have an account in which I often upload some stuff. These things are not public but can be used. If someone took these items, there’d be nothing I could do about it.”

Turning his head, Qiu Yu looked at Alan in surprise as the latter winked at him, conveying an unspoken understanding.

“Thank you, Alan.”

“No need to thank me. You’ve helped me a lot, and this is my way of repaying you. Also, if… I mean, if one day I want to do something I’m passionate about, I hope you can take me in to complete it together.”

Looking at Alan, Qiu Yu understood what he was getting at.

He gently patted Alan’s shoulder and nodded: “Don’t worry, I get it.”

After sending Alan off, Qiu Yu looked across at Fang Cheng Studio.

Bathed in moonlight, the studio’s sprouts sparkled with a strange light, shining even in the night.

At the moment, Qiu Yu longed to light up a cigarette, but he forcefully resisted the urge.

He and Fang Cheng were the same age, but Fang Cheng had already reached an unthinkable height, while Qiu Yu had yet to produce his own signature work.

“Who wouldn’t be in a hurry next to a genius?”

Leaning against the window, the shock in Qiu Yu’s heart hadn’t yet subsided.

Passport World was a concept full of technical prowess and an amazing idea. With Passport World, Fang Cheng Studio would become a platform in itself.

They had the software and Kirin Industry for hardware; the beginnings of a gaming empire were emerging, which compelled the grassroots heroes to hasten their steps so as not to be left behind by the times.

The old gaming companies were about to be crushed, and a new era of gaming was coming. Qiu Yu didn’t want to be cast aside just as dawn was breaking; he wanted to secure a place for himself in the new era.

“I must speed up. I wonder what Fang Cheng is doing now, probably thinking about a new game.”

Meanwhile, on the other side, Fang Cheng was looking over the proposals given by the Gods, murmuring to himself, “These Little Heavenly Ways, something’s not right.”