The World's First Roguelike
Three hours had passed since Marina first booted up the game. White text suddenly materialized across the pitch-black screen.
> [Game Clear!]
“Waaah! F-Finally!” Marina shouted in triumph as the ending credits rolled after her seventeenth death. It had taken a full three hours just to see those two words. The lack of save points between rounds—unlike the previous game—meant that dying sent you all the way back to the start, which dragged things out even more.
The real-time combat was intense, the difficulty punishing, and the story sprinkled in just enough food for thought between the action. “Seriously, parents abandoning their own child…” Whether it was the dot graphics or GM deliberately softening the tone, she couldn’t tell, but the hidden elements scattered throughout the stages, combined with her own past knowledge, were enough to piece together the tragic backstory of the girl the protagonist meets on his journey.
Who would have guessed that superstitious parents would offer their child as a sacrifice to a god? Even by the standards of an era where conception and birth happened through capsules, that crossed a serious line. It would have been just as unthinkable back when children were born from love between husband and wife. If it had been scientific curiosity, maybe she could have understood, but doing something like that for a nonexistent god was beyond her comprehension.
That was exactly why the final stage felt so satisfying. An ordinary human child with no special powers or magic—just someone the protagonist had been protecting. Watching that child bring down an unproven symbol of superstition felt like GM was sending a message to this cold, hyper-individualistic, meritocratic world. Of course, he had probably just been following an old cliché, but Marina had no way of knowing that. Even if she did, she wouldn’t have been able to interpret the deeper meaning behind it.
Just as she was basking in the rare sense of accomplishment, a message from GM popped up.
“Ah, a review…” Normally she would have kept it short and ended the chat, but for some reason she felt like talking to him a little longer.
GM’s reply came quickly.
It was a lie. She would have bet her entire life that nothing she had ever done was harder than this. Still, she wanted to keep the conversation going, so she figured it wouldn’t hurt to look a little impressive.
“Hmm… makes sense.” After all, her nickname was Hacking Master. Maybe she was just good at everything, like how a lot of pro gamers back in the day had come from good schools.
“Money… transactions?” Strictly speaking, it was possible. People living in the Abyss, where living conditions were harsher than in the city, often traded daily necessities through galleries like this one. Unlike mutants, most of them weren’t even considered human, so they received no government support. The fact that Marina had allowed mutants into her gallery just because they had emotions made her the exception.
“But why bring that up all of a sudden…?”
“P-Paid…?” The meaning was crystal clear. Unlike the previous game, this one would cost money.
‘Well, it’s not like it matters to me…’ Marina could easily afford it. As the saying went, a people without a past had no future. If it meant preserving something like this, she wouldn’t hesitate to pay any amount. Still, she couldn’t help wondering why he had suddenly decided to do this.
“Ah…” Yeah, that made sense. Marina nodded. Creating something like this from scratch must have taken an enormous amount of time and effort. There was no reason for him to keep offering it for free when he wasn’t even an admin like her.
‘Wait, hold on…’ A thought suddenly crossed her mind. What if she gave him sub-admin privileges? The gallery was always short on Par-ttaks because there weren’t many people she trusted with that kind of power. ‘He seems decent enough, and if it’s just this much…’
Just as she was about to act on the idea, another message arrived.
She had no choice but to drop the idea.
Well, that was understandable. In a society where everything was decided by ability, money was incredibly important. Everyone had their own way of making it, and as long as it didn’t cross into extreme crime, Marina had no intention of stopping someone from earning a living with their skills. Still, one thing worried her.
Strictly speaking, she was right. Even though the previous game had introduced the concept, gaming culture was still unfamiliar to most people. If a masterpiece like this ended up buried just because of money, it would be an incredibly inhumane tragedy.
Marina’s logic wasn’t wrong—except for one crucial factor: human desire. She glanced at the posts that had already appeared in the gallery.
Trends spread instantly, no matter how expensive they were. If even branded clothes flew off the shelves once they became popular, what would happen when the product offered a dopamine rush people had never experienced before? Would they really be able to resist? She didn’t think so.
“This makes me feel like a bad guy…” Still, at least he hadn’t done anything truly unethical like rigging gacha rates or running gambling sites. That was a relief. Some games were even good for brain training. ‘I should make something like that later too.’ Games like Tetris or brain-training titles would probably be popular here—especially the latter, which might even help develop imagination.
After making a few adjustments, the world’s first roguelike game was finally released to the public.