To ascend, I had no choice but to create games

Chapter 291: Chapter 187 Infamy Spreads Far and Wide (Second Update)_2

“`

“Impressive graphics – it reminds me of the arcade games I used to play as a kid. Which company made this game?”

“It’s by Fang Cheng Studio.” Mr. Shen said proudly.

“Oh…”

Hoffman nodded, understanding why Mr. Shen held Fang Cheng in such high regard.

The visuals alone were on par with top-tier titles, and even though using arcade machines was a bit niche, judging by the foot traffic, each cabinet was almost always at full capacity, which meant significant revenue.

When it came to what constitutes a good game, his standards were the same as Mr. Shen’s.

A money-making game wasn’t necessarily good, but a good game definitely needs to be profitable.

Games that didn’t make money were classified by him as art pieces. He might appreciate the artistic vision, but he didn’t consider them good games.

And Fang Cheng’s “Squirrel Spaceship” was definitely a good game.

Although he hadn’t met them yet, the game he saw made him think highly of Fang Cheng Studio.

After admiring a little while longer, he said to Mr. Shen, “Let’s go, we can go check out their studio now.”

“Too late.” Mr. Shen said helplessly, checking the time, “They’ve finished work for the day.”

“…They don’t work overtime?”

“No overtime.”

Hoffman looked at Mr. Shen incredulously, utterly disbelieving.

However, when they arrived at the entrance of Fang Cheng Studio and saw the deserted workplace, he had to accept that his old friend was telling the truth.

The studio was empty except for a tricolor cat licking its paw, completely ignoring the two men outside.

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Standing next to Hoffman, Mr. Shen asked, “Do you want me to call and ask for you?”

“No need… no, actually, please do.”

Mr. Shen then made a call, and afterward, he asked, “Fang Cheng, the overseas publisher I told you about has arrived. Do you have any interest in coming over to meet now?”

“Yes, but I don’t have time, you say? Why? Because I don’t wish to work outside of office hours?”

“But this is important. Still no good? Alright. We’ll come over tomorrow morning then.”

After hanging up, Mr. Shen shrugged. “As you see, it’s not possible.”

“Impressive,” Hoffman exclaimed with wide eyes, “It’s rare to meet people so principled. Did you tell him I’m the vice-chair of the union?”

“We don’t really care about that.”

“Oh, right.”

Despite the rejection, Hoffman was quite happy.

The steadfast adherence to their principles, the absolute refusal to work overtime, left him quite satisfied and confident about future cooperation.

They headed to a famous hotpot restaurant near Yulin West Road for dinner, then to a nearby pub for a few beers, after which they returned to the hotel and happily went to sleep.

After waking up, Hoffman shook off the tiredness from the day before, put on his checkered suit, and headed to Fang Cheng Studio with Mr. Shen.

Upon seeing Fang Cheng, Hoffman was wowed.

The producer in front of him was very eye-catching; Mr. Shen looked on with satisfaction at Hoffman’s reaction and then said, “Does he have the same flair I had back in the day?”

“No, he doesn’t like to brag.”

While Hoffman was sizing up Fang Cheng, Fang Cheng was also observing him.

The man was a robust Prussian, his bushy beard very noticeable, his features somewhat resembling a great Prussian figure from the textbooks.

After introducing themselves, Hoffman glanced at the size of the studio and asked with a hint of confusion, “There are only eight of you?”

“Yes, that’s enough. Basically, I provide a framework, and my colleagues help bring it to completion,” Fang Cheng replied with a smile.

“Yesterday at 5:21 PM we came here, and you had already closed up. Is it like this every day, or just occasionally?”

“It’s like this every day.”

Hoffman asked a few more questions and found that Fang Cheng answered quickly and promptly, without any signs of lying.

“`

Through the glass of the meeting room, he watched the others outside and found everyone working with dedication and efficiency.

They weren’t slacking off or stopping their progress; if an issue arose and they got stuck, they would quickly ask for opinions from those around them and would be able to obtain solutions rapidly.

Their intensity was high, but each one seemed happy; it looked as though they weren’t just working but engaged in their own passion projects.

This is a very dynamic and potential-filled company, Hoffman asserted.

After observing for a while, Hoffman curiously asked, “Fang Cheng, I see your colleagues are full of enthusiasm when they work, so I’m a bit curious, how do you manage them?”

“Normal management,” Fang Cheng replied. “Just regular work hours, regular holidays, regular pay, and then the usual salary raises and dividends.”

“I see.”

Hoffman nodded his head.

The “normal” here is actually the most abnormal aspect.

Many gaming companies in Prussia fail to achieve this, with many studios even requiring their employees to live on the floor, their treatment not much better than what’s found domestically.

Having understood all this, Hoffman found the environment here even better than he had expected.

With the basic environment being sound, it was then time for the main event.

Under Fang Cheng’s arrangement, Hoffman sat down in front of a computer, started it up, and began running Heavenly Demon.

Though the VR integration machine within the company could also run the game, Hoffman, after all, was a fifty-year-old elder, and it was better for him to use a computer for such tasks.

The game’s setting interface already allowed for language switching, and upon discovering Prussian language was available, Hoffman’s impression of Fang Cheng Studio greatly improved.

And when the opening animation appeared, the veteran game producer instantly widened his eyes, marveling at the images on the screen.

The lifelike modeling combined with the traditional feel of the visuals made the game’s first impression nothing short of stunning, reminiscent of his wife thirty years ago, provocative and alluring to the imagination.

However, deceptive presentations are common, and many big companies are no exception, much like what his wife looks like now…

Setting aside those personal matters, he focused his attention on the game and subsequently realized that the translation was spot on.

The character’s voice was still in Chinese, but the dialogues added Prussian subtitles, and many passages used colloquial language, including examples that Prussians could understand, further enhancing Hoffman’s appreciation for the game.

Moreover, the content of the game didn’t pander to overseas players but fully exhibited its own traditional charm, showcasing its unique allure.

Even players accustomed to mythology and their own brand of fantasy could feel the charm through the visuals and immerse themselves into this game filled with Eastern essence.

Seeing Hoffman quickly drawn into the game as soon as he sat down, Mr. Shen also felt a bit intrigued.

While drinking tea from Fang Cheng Studio, he looked at Fang Cheng and asked, “Fang Cheng, can you set up a machine for me too?”

Fang Cheng didn’t immediately agree, but instead looked at him and asked, “Mr. Shen, have you been experiencing some irregular heartbeats recently?”

“Yes, how did you know?” Mr. Shen asked, surprised.

“And you overindulged in alcohol yesterday, didn’t you sleep well, right?”

Sniffing his own sleeve, Mr. Shen felt he hadn’t really drunk that much.

How could such a thing be noticed?

But soon, he realized what it meant and continued to ask, “What does this have to do with the machine?”

“Horror games, players with irregular heartbeats are advised not to play them.”

“…Is it really a horror game? Not just a thrill game masquerading as a horror?”

“No.”

Mr. Shen frowned at Fang Cheng, not believing that he would actually make a horror game.

But soon, he believed it.

In less than half an hour, Hoffman let out a scream, followed by a string of Prussian curses that Mr. Shen had never seen his old friend lose composure like this.

The dignified Vice President of the guild was now utterly bereft of his usual composure, his face twisted as he clutched his thigh, and then he bitterly said, “The plot planner of this game should be shot.”

Next to him, Huang Ping nodded in agreement.

Tang Mo, your infamy has now spread from the domestic scene to Prussia.