Chapter 24

After that, once all his money ran out, Aspa found work as a clerk at a nearby bookstore while continuing to write and wait.

Then, several months later, when he received the letter informing him of his acceptance, he collapsed onto his worn-out sofa and let out a long sigh of relief.

Working as a bookstore clerk was not something he would call terrible.

But the thought of continuing to drift further away from writing while spending his days merely selling other people’s books had left him feeling unbearably suffocated.

“When can you start work?”

“I can start immediately.”

Aspa answered enthusiastically.

The moment he received the acceptance notice, he had already quit the bookstore, given up his rented room, and rushed to this city.

One could call it impulsive, but before memories of failure could catch up to him, he wanted to leave his old neighborhood and start anew as quickly as possible. That desire was what moved his legs.

Contrary to Aspa’s enthusiasm, Ras scratched his cheek awkwardly and looked slightly troubled.

The employees still had vacation time remaining.

Well, it’s not a bad idea to start planning things in advance.

Still, it was not as though work could only be done when everyone was present, so Ras changed his mind.

In a way, it could also be seen as giving the newcomer time to adapt.

“For now, Mister Aspa, try playing some games.”

“Huh?”

Aspa reflexively asked back.

Ras had already expected that reaction, so he grinned and explained.

“You need to know what kind of thing we’ll be creating ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠together if you want to do the job properly.”

“Ah...”

Ras handed over the game diskettes to the man, who nodded with his mouth slightly open as though he finally understood.

“Especially make sure to properly play Land of Adventure. We’re planning to create its sequel using your scenario.”

“Yes! Understood.”

Aspa concentrated while treating it as work.

But in the end, he wound up thoroughly enjoying it.

He had briefly tried it before on a friend’s computer, but properly playing it himself felt entirely different.

It felt as though he had stepped directly into one of the novels he wrote and was personally embarking on an adventure.

There was no way Aspa could avoid becoming absorbed in it.

Furthermore, his imagination as a writer vividly and realistically expanded every moment—fighting monsters, obtaining items, growing stronger, gaining classes, and gathering companions—so compared to ordinary people, he probably enjoyed it several times more deeply.

As a result, Aspa moved beyond the passive mindset of merely doing something somewhat related to novel writing and began genuinely wanting to create games like this himself.

That was partially Ras’s intention to begin with, but it worked even better than expected.

Whenever he found time, Ras explained various storytelling methods from games he knew.

“You may have already noticed this, but unlike novels, games don’t move in only one direction. Depending on the player’s choices and actions, you can create multiple branching paths.”

“Ah. Right.”

“Of course, your scenario guides players toward the ‘correct’ choices, and I don’t think that’s bad at all. But remember, it doesn’t necessarily have to be that way.”

“Ah. Yes!”

Like a proper new employee, Aspa nodded energetically without arguing.

And it was not merely for appearances.

He immediately began recalling the choices within his own scenario and imagining how things might have unfolded if the protagonist had made different decisions.

After spending a while blankly painting possibilities in his mind, he hurriedly pulled out his pen and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠notebook and began writing everything down.

As he continued expanding the story, however, he eventually became flustered by how many branches it was creating.

His gaze instinctively shifted toward Ras, who was busy working at the computer.

But before even asking for advice, he managed to think of a plausible solution himself.

I can just guide the diverging storylines back into the original trunk.

Since the scenario itself revolved around the concept of a “test” and the existence of a correct outcome, the idea came to him quickly.

He realized he could simply vary the route taken to reach the same conclusion, or change how quickly the player arrived there.

And later, while continuing to play games, he came to another realization.

Even if dialogue or story events themselves did not change, differences in items, companions, acquired stats, or skills could still make players feel as though they had achieved different outcomes.

He immediately began making notes on how to implement those ideas concretely.

“That’s pretty good. If each choice carries meaning like that, it should increase immersion while also preserving freedom.”

Naturally, work required progress reports, so Ras occasionally asked how things were going and listened to the ideas Aspa had devised.

In truth, many of those ideas had already been used in RPGs Ras ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠played back in Korea, but because Aspa had arrived at them independently, he would probably apply them with greater depth, so Ras welcomed the ideas happily.

Sometimes Aspa’s imagination became too excessive, creating things difficult to implement in an actual game.

Still, Aspa was not a computer expert to begin with, and matters like that were naturally things the actual developers would adjust as needed.

“Huh? Who are you?”

Three days later, Pana returned to the office wearing an expression that looked as though she had been dragged back against her will after the enjoyable vacation ended.

She instinctively greeted the person inside, then realized it was an unfamiliar face and widened her eyes beneath her thick “hello” bangs.

“Hello. I’m Aspa, the new employee.”

“You know the contest we held? He’s the winner from that. From now on, he’ll be helping with story and other setting-related work.”

Aspa immediately stood up with his large frame and bowed deeply toward the tiny girl-like Pana.

Although his size was intimidating, he was already well into his thirties due to the years he spent working as a novelist, so he had been slightly worried about workplace hierarchy issues.

Fortunately, he seemed to possess a strong awareness of himself as a newcomer, which inwardly relieved Ras.

That allowed him to introduce him comfortably.

“Ah! You’re the winner from that contest? Please take care of me. I’m Pana, the graphics designer.”

Afterward, similar greetings were exchanged with Diska and Garazt when they arrived at work.

The only difference was that, perhaps because they were both men, the two of them seemed noticeably more wary of Aspa’s large build.

Once the entire team had gathered, Ras brought up development of the sequel to Land of Adventure.

“Now that we have someone who can strengthen the story elements we felt were lacking, there’s no reason to delay production of the sequel any longer. We’ll begin development immediately starting today.”

Since the scenario already existed and Aspa had completed a considerable amount of setting work during the team’s vacation, there was no need to waste time waiting around.

“Since it’s a sequel, we’ll probably reuse as many resources from the first game as possible. But if there’s too little change, that’ll be a problem too, so if you notice anything that should be improved, please suggest it freely.”

“Yes.”

Ras then began assigning work.

First, he instructed Pana to create character and item graphics using the setting documents.

Since the workload was massive, she likely would not need any additional instructions for quite a while.

“If you get stuck on anything, discuss it with Mister Aspa as you work.”

“Ah. Okay.”

Pana, who had always worked while communicating directly with Ras, looked slightly awkwardly toward Aspa, but since he was the one who created the settings this time, she nodded without objection.

“And while I won’t exactly be slacking off myself, this time Mister Garazt will be taking the lead on the coding work.”

“Huh? But...”

The sudden announcement naturally startled him.

Of course, he had ambitions, but he still lacked complete confidence in his own abilities, so he could not easily answer affirmatively.

“Don’t worry too much. We already have reference material, don’t we?”

“Ah. Right.”

Only then did Garazt think of the first game and scratch his head awkwardly.

Ras had already said they would reuse as many resources as possible, which practically meant the first game itself was the answer sheet.

And Garazt was not lacking in confidence to the point of saying he still could not do it even with the answers provided.

Ras turned toward Aspa.

“Mister Aspa, please write the dialogue, narration, and all the text that’ll go into the game directly on the computer. Can you do that?”

“Well... I don’t really know computers very well...”

“It’s fine. I’ll teach you. It’s not difficult, so don’t worry.”

That marked the beginning of Aspa’s computer lessons.

Just as Ras said, text work itself was not difficult, so it did not take long.

However, it seemed like Aspa would need some time to become accustomed to the keyboard.

Thirty minutes later, he began carefully pressing the keys with his thick fingers while transferring dialogue into text.

Watching his serious but slow movements, Ras thought this development project still had a very long road ahead.

But strangely enough, he did not feel impatient.

Sea King, which had released only two weeks earlier, had already sold forty thousand copies and was expected to at least match the sales of Land of Adventure, while the profits from his earlier games were also enormous.

There was simply no reason for him to feel anxious.

Since Ras achieved success, numerous imitators had begun flooding the market.

Among them, Land of Adventure inspired the most copies because it had been both the most successful and the most shocking due to its previously unseen gameplay.

In a sense, it was fair to call it an RPG boom.

Still, most of the imitators remained clumsy in many ways.

Some had fairly decent quality, but since none surpassed Land of Adventure in any meaningful way, they ultimately remained little more than imitators.

Even so, the situation was not entirely bad.

Even if those games sold less than Land of Adventure, the rapidly expanding market still made them significantly profitable.

Until very recently, computer games were products ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠expected to sell only a few thousand copies at most, yet now even mediocre games could surpass ten thousand copies without too much difficulty.

“But that doesn’t mean we can allow ourselves to be satisfied with that level too.”

A short human man in his thirties with a distinctive bulbous nose and crescent-shaped upturned eyes looked toward his two companions as he spoke.

As the computer market expanded, many developers and studios had begun appearing everywhere, and Kanbuta Soft was one such company.

The speaker was Ejjuka, the team leader.

Together with Eji and Ranshtain, they formed a group closer to a team than an actual company, consisting entirely of university students.

They had entered the computer game market because they recognized its potential, but beyond that, they were genuinely passionate about games themselves.

And although they had been deeply impressed by Land of Adventure, they had no intention of merely creating something similar.

They possessed the ambition to create a game unquestionably superior to it.

“So how exactly are you planning to do that?”

Eji asked while folding his arms and reclining so far back he nearly looked like he was lying down.

Talk of surpassing Land of Adventure had been ongoing for a long time already, but they still had not found any clear answer, leaving them unable to even properly begin development despite their enthusiasm.

The frustration had been building.

“...”

The Orc Ranshtain, who was not particularly talkative, silently stared at Ejjuka as though demanding an answer, clearly sharing Eji’s feelings.

“I decided to think about it simply. We just need to identify its weaknesses and improve them.”

“Weaknesses?”

Eji reflexively asked back.

He himself had considered something similar before.

But every time he tried changing something, it only felt more crude and awkward, preventing him from finding any real solution.

Now genuinely interested, Eji straightened his posture and properly met Ejjuka’s gaze.

“The combat isn’t fun.”

“Is it really?”

However, the answer that finally emerged failed to resonate with Eji at all.

“I think it’s actually a pretty deep system.”

Ranshtain flatly disagreed in his heavy voice.

And honestly, he had a point.

One of the reasons so many people were still completely absorbed in Land of Adventure even now was precisely because of its combat system.

Still, Ejjuka did not appear discouraged by their reactions.

Well, he did flinch slightly when the massive green mountain of muscle known as Ranshtain twitched around the eyes.

But that was merely a reflexive reaction.