Horror Game Designer

Chapter 17: Which game designer, other than me, would consider the life and death of the players?

After he had finished eating, Gao Ming carefully arranged several old black and white photographs next to him. These photographs weren’t ordinary; they held a special significance in his life.

“These memorial photographs,” Gao Ming mused, “each has its unique way of being activated. Once I figure out how to do this, my entire family could benefit from them and stand united against any difficulty. With these photos, I can even summon the spirits of my ‘dad and mom’ to help, which gives me some protection. But in this chaotic world, these measures are hardly sufficient. I need more allies to ensure my survival.”

While pondering his next move, Gao Ming’s thoughts inadvertently drifted to the image of that troubling woman from his game. Xuan Wen was not an ordinary woman; she was a psychopathic serial killer who had ruthlessly eliminated all the female leads in her story and had now set her sights on him. Her strategies were always executed with chilling precision and cold-blooded efficiency, making her a fearsomely skilled adversary.

Fortunately, due to the peculiar dynamics of Gao Ming’s game design, Xuan Wen had developed a bizarre kind of affection for him, which, for the time being, kept him relatively safe from her harm. But Gao Ming knew that this precarious balance might not last forever. There was always the looming danger that Xuan Wen might eventually try to break free from the influence he had over her.

In the context of the game, Xuan Wen was an effective “colleague” for Gao Ming, and he was willing to assist her. However, their relationship was strictly professional at this point, nothing more.

Gao Ming reflected on the characters he had created in his games, particularly recalling the thirty-six criminals from his mystery games inspired by real-life cases. Among them were the most deranged and evil of criminals – lunatics, irredeemable perverts, and demonic figures. Yet, some were not inherently evil; a few had been thrust into their bloody paths by circumstances and wouldn’t choose violence if the game’s scenario were to become a reality.

Gao Ming understood that criminal behavior wasn’t always inherent; often, it was the result of a gradual accumulation of circumstances and influences. Some individuals, born with abnormal hormone levels or unique brain structures, could still evolve into disciplined and successful members of society with the right care from their families and communities. Conversely, those who were inherently kind and honest could be transformed into monstrous beings by their environments.

Gao Ming harbored a desire to rewrite some of the tragic stories he had crafted earlier. However, he knew the task wouldn’t be easy. The vastness of the city made locating these criminals an arduous task. He had the contact information given by an investigator, which he silently committed to memory. Engaging the help of the Investigation Bureau seemed like a practical approach, but getting involved with them could mean losing control over his own destiny.

Later, as he sat on his sofa, listening to the rain patter against the window, Gao Ming was consumed by his thoughts until late into the night. He was too apprehensive to go to his bedroom to sleep. Eventually, overcome by exhaustion, he resigned himself to sleeping on the sofa, wrapping his body in a thin quilt and curling up in an attempt to find some rest.

……

At the early hour of 5 AM, Gao Ming was abruptly awakened from his sleep by a persistent knocking on his door. Rather than rushing to see who it was, he first sat upright on the couch, his makeshift bed for the night, and glanced out the window. The relentless downpour of rain continued unabated, casting a somewhat ominous mood over the dark, early morning hours.

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“This has to mean something,” Gao Ming thought to himself, feeling a bit downhearted. “The sun has been hiding for days now.”

He stretched his arms and legs, taking a moment to shake off the grogginess and fully wake up before he decided to see who was at the door. Peering through the peephole, his expression shifted to one of immediate worry.

Outside, it was Xuan Wen, calling out, “Are you awake, Gao Ming?” Despite the gloomy weather, she stood there cheerfully, her familiar red umbrella in hand.

“What’s the reason for this early visit?” Gao Ming hastily got dressed, making sure to bundle up against the cold.

“I’ve come to take you to the office. We have to wrap up our work on that romance game project. I want to see if it will have any effect on me,” Xuan Wen explained, her smile both sweet and encouraging.

“You’re really intense, you know? It’s only 5 in the morning! The subway doesn’t even start running at this hour!” Gao Ming, who had previously only imagined scenarios of Xuan Wen chasing him, never expected her to be so eager to get to work. “And besides, I wasn’t even officially hired for this. You could just go on your own, right?”

“Aren’t you a little bit curious?” Xuan Wen pressed, knocking on the door once more. “We can take a taxi to the office. Don’t worry about the fare.”

“If money’s not an issue, then why bother working at all?” Gao Ming finally opened the door after a quick wash. He deliberately wore a raincoat to avoid sharing an umbrella with Xuan Wen.

Together, they descended the stairs and hailed a taxi. The streetlights were still glowing, their light warped by the raindrops, giving the city an ethereal, almost surreal appearance.

Since it was so early, the streets were empty, allowing them to reach their destination of Nightlight Studio Games in just a fraction of the usual time. Using her employee card, Xuan Wen led the way into the office. She started her computer and began to sort through the various storylines within “To Our Love That Will Eventually Perish.”

Richy, the office cat, was drawn out of its cozy bed by the sound of the keyboard. It crept up to Gao Ming, hooking its little paws onto his pants, its big, soulful eyes seemingly begging him not to leave.

“I’m thinking about eliminating the storylines of the other female characters or giving them tragic endings and just focusing on our two characters,” Xuan Wen suggested, quickly brainstorming a new direction for the game.

“Why not just get rid of my character as well?” Gao Ming, now seated at his colleague Wei Dayou’s desk, was half-joking, half-serious, and ready to fall asleep again.

“Our goal is to not only finish this game but to draw in more players. We want to engage their emotions and have them learn about our story while they play,” Xuan Wen explained as she placed some relevant documents in front of Gao Ming. “It’s a win-win situation. If this works, we can then start working on Zhao Xi’s game.”

Under Xuan Wen’s persistent “motivation,” Gao Ming found his energy, and they began to collaborate on a murder mystery game, even printing out some eerie images to serve as inspiration.

……

At 8:00 AM, Manager Gou was the first one to arrive at the office. As usual, he approached his work with the vigor of someone who’s on a relentless mission to turn things around, always exuding the kind of boundless energy one might associate with being injected with an invigorating substance of chicken blood. However, this morning was different. He was greeted by the sight of Gao Ming, who appeared as if he had been injected with something far less invigorating, perhaps even ghost blood.

Manager Gou was taken aback by the intense atmosphere in the office. He noticed the screen filled with densely packed projections, a wildly ambitious game design, and an entirely new operational plan. His eyes widened in astonishment. “What time did you all get here?” he asked. Then, noticing Gao Ming, he added, “Gao Ming, what brings you here as well?”

“Manager Gou, I’ve come up with a very bold idea for our game design,” Xuan Wen explained as she presented the new plan to him. “The current gaming market is saturated with similar concepts. Given our limited budget, conventional game designs won’t make us stand out. Why not try something completely different?”

“But weren’t we committed to creating a straightforward romance game as we discussed yesterday? What’s all this about?” Manager Gou questioned.

“What we’re proposing is to create the most terrifying romance game ever,” Gao Ming interjected, his eyes bloodshot and his demeanor suggesting he was on the edge as if he had encountered something otherworldly the night before.

“No, we must uphold our commitment to our clients,” Manager Gou responded firmly, shaking his head. “We should stick to their requirements. If there’s an error, it’s on them. But if we take a reckless approach, who’s going to be accountable? Will you be?”

“Manager Gou, we should consider everyone’s suggestions,” Gao Ming urged, joining in the persuasion. “Our studio doesn’t have the resources to compete in the mainstream gaming market. However, gamers are increasingly dividing into niche interest groups. We just need to capture a segment of the market to see returns.”

“You speak as if you’re a permanent part of our team,” Manager Gou remarked, a bit puzzled as he scratched his wig. Yet, as he perused the design proposal from Xuan Wen and Gao Ming, he found himself intrigued by their ideas.

Gradually, other employees of Nightlight Studio trickled in, some wearing headphones, others carrying cups of coffee, all initially relaxed. However, their casual demeanor quickly faded as they noticed the murder photos and death reports scattered across the table, elements decidedly out of place in a studio that’s constructing a romance game.

“I’ve had a conversation with Dayou about our current situation,” Gao Ming began, addressing the full team once everyone had gathered. “Do you really want to spend your time on projects you’re not passionate about? Do our romance games truly have a competitive edge? Another failure could irreparably damage our reputation.”

Gao Ming’s longstanding relationship with Nightlight Studio, and his familiarity with everyone there, lent him the confidence to be so forthright.

Manager Gou, deep down, yearned for the studio’s success more than anyone. He knew the odds were stacked against them. “The market for horror games is limited. Who would make such a drastic shift unless it was a matter of survival?” he mused, voicing his concerns amidst the unfavorable industry climate.

“I may have only been a part-time planner and designer for the studio in the past, and I’ll be the first to admit that my work then wasn’t up to par. But after immersing myself in field research over the past several days and experiencing something profoundly unsettling…” Gao Ming paused, turning his head to look at Xuan Wen, “I’ve come to a deep understanding of what true terror feels like! Give me another opportunity, and I promise I can heighten the intensity of fear in our game by ten times! Our romance game will become a legend in the industry, unforgettable to all our competitors!”

Gao Ming’s recent experiences had ignited a newfound passion within him. He was determined to blend his personal encounters with terror into the fabric of the game. His vision was to craft a horror experience so vivid and realistic that if players ever found themselves in similarly horrifying situations in real life, they would be mentally fortified, equipped with strategies to cope and survive.

This revelation solidified his resolve. Gao Ming understood that his approach was unique in the gaming industry. While other game planners might focus on gameplay mechanics or storylines, he was considering the real-world implications of the experiences he was creating. He aimed to go beyond mere entertainment, offering players not just a game, but a form of psychological preparation for life’s most frightening moments.