Games? What the Hell Are Those??
Games? What the hell are those?? In the Dark Web, teeming with countless mutants, the operator of the largest site, Gallery, Marina, was staring coldly at her screen.
The reason she was peering at the screen with such interest was simple.
It was because of a file one user had just sent her.
"A game, huh..."
She'd heard the word once before. Compared to other mutants, Marina had a keen interest in ancient artifacts.
Relics from a bygone era, now vanished.
But even Marina didn't know the details.
Like the current mutants, it must have faced some kind of persecution. Unlike usable surviving media like movies, dramas, or songs, there was zero info on this "game" culture.
"...Well, playing it once should clear things up."
Even if it had something sketchy inside, no worries.
With her hacking skills, she could neutralize any virus.
With that thought, Marina downloaded the file.
Filename: Make Me a Hero!
Download complete.
"...?"
Stunned for a moment by the oddly named file, Marina launched the downloaded game anyway.
Not flashy holographic graphics like you'd see on the streets, but hand-drawn pixel art.
"...What the hell is this?"
Marina tilted her head at the anachronistic sight.
To a cyberpunk denizen used to hyper-real holograms, these pixels were refreshingly novel.
...Gotta add this to the database.
What to call this new technique?
Musing on that, Marina absentmindedly tapped the space bar.
And then.
"...?"
Along with an illustration on screen, a girl was talking to her.
"Some kind of AI?"
Looking closer, no—it was just pre-scripted dialogue commands.
Still, something humanoid appearing was mind-blowingly fresh in concept.
She kept tapping space bar, and the script rolled on.
"Hm, okay."
The story was smooth and unremarkable. At least to her. A hero who dreamed of saving people embarks on a journey to rescue his childhood friend kidnapped by the demon king.
"Hmmm..."
A plot she'd seen in classic literature she'd researched. A selfless human who jumps in for unrelated matters, motives unknown.
Could this creator be into ancient tales like me?
Marina's interest piqued.
After the prologue script ended, enemies appeared on screen.
[Space Bar: Jump]
[← →: Move]
[A: Attack 1]
[B: Attack 2]
The game controls popped up.
"Ah, like this?"
Seeing them, Marina instinctively knew—this was how to play properly.
"Hya!" Whoosh!
Hitting A on the keyboard, the hero swung his sword up and down. An orc hit by it crumpled to the ground.
It lay still for a bit, then blinked and vanished.
"Whoa..."
Watching it all, Marina stepped forward entranced. Another orc ahead.
She hit B toward it.
Swoosh!
This time, the hero spun a full circle. Simple, yet oddly addictive.
Thrilled, Marina mashed buttons wildly.
Swoosh! Whirl! Slash!
Spin slash into jump overhead strike. ASAA—a combo from special input.
"Oh...!!"
Marina's eyes sparkled. How long had she been lost in it?
{Thanks for playing!}
"...The end?"
Already? Unthinkingly, Marina checked the clock.
30 minutes. Already half an hour gone.
...When did time fly like this?
Snapping to, Marina quickly logged into her Dark Web Gallery.
"Sigh..."
Less than an hour without her, and trash flooded her Gallery—irritation bubbled up for the first time in ages.
Of course, no matter how many posts, she handled it fine.
"Delete all."
Thanks to her ever-present supercomputer and built-in AI.
In under a minute, the shitposts vanished without trace.
"Sigh..."
Finally breathing easy, Marina checked the inquiries tab again.
She sought one person only.
GM. The game's creator.
She had to reply quick to the distribution inquiry.
Wish I could chat more...
But no. Operators must stay impartial.
She didn't micromanage, but the city government—never taking corp sides—proved it.
With that, Marina fired off a private message.
How long after sending my game to the operator?
Staring at my laptop with bated breath, about 30 minutes later.
The awaited review results arrived.
"Ugh, this sucks."
Reliving the agony of submitting for ratings was pure torture.
Like recalling a forgotten bad taste.
Still, this place had solid standards—better than before.
Rational reasons, not inscrutable bullshit like the old committee.
Normals acting like machines, excluding mutants. Even mutants had faint emotions and desires, making it possible.
"Oh."
I knew it'd pass since I didn't make anything weird, but approval still felt great.
What the—?
Question mark over my head, and the follow-up hit.
...That big a deal?
I expected positive feedback.
Solid character designs, classic story—safe bet.
But this level of hype? Nah, not quite.
I tilted my head at the over-the-top praise.
Like me?
Did she know about past civilizations too?
I asked. Response:
I replied accordingly.
Well, as a native of that era, I knew more than scholars... but no need to spill that. Who knows who she is? Normals wouldn't believe it anyway, and even if they did, who knows how they'd react.
Didn't see that coming. From a preservation standpoint, operator help would be huge.
But why offer?
No such thing as free favors. Good for me, but uneasy.
"...True that."
Making one good game ain't some life-changer here. No big deal.
And so, under the Gallery operator's lead, my game spread across the entire site.