Chapter 15
Chapter 15
In the twenty-first century, information spread so easily through the internet and smartphones that many children not only became objective beyond their years, but even looked down on adults. But this era was different.
Well, Insu’s dad said he works at a major corporation.
Actually, not all adults possessed amazing abilities. And even people working at large corporations usually knew little outside their own responsibilities. Still, after hearing Insu’s answer, Eunha simply nodded and accepted it.
Watching her reaction, Insu smiled faintly.
Dad will probably end up creating a company, right? No matter how much people love geniuses, it’d be hard for them to readily buy a game made by a six-year-old kid.
Insu could roughly guess what his father was likely to do. But since nothing was certain yet, he simply stayed quiet after seeing Eunha nod.
And in reality, Seongcheol and Hyein spent whatever free time they had busily trying to establish a corporation.
Since minors could not become directors, Seongcheol would act as the representative director, but all shares would be gifted to Insu.
However, unlike the twenty-first century, the procedures in this era were more complicated and expensive, so it inevitably took time.
Then another two months passed.
“It doesn’t really feel that different from the previous prototype.”
That was Eunha’s reaction after playing the alpha version for a while. Since it was no longer her first time, she navigated the game world quite skillfully.
(Translator’s Notes: Alpha Version — Early playable development build that is still incomplete and often contains many bugs. In this series glossary, Alpha Version is already established as a game development stage before later testing and release phases.)
“Try progressing a little further. It’s still too early in the game right now.”
“Is that so?”
This was less because the alpha version was lacking and more because the earlier prototype was already too complete.
The parts completed afterward mostly involved races she had not encountered yet, events and quests she had not triggered yet, or systems that were difficult to notice early in the game. So, just as she said, it was hard to feel the differences immediately.
Still, her comment was not meaningless.
Not everyone dug deeply into games. In fact, there were probably far more casual players. Which meant it was natural to wonder whether spending several months on features that were difficult to notice right away had really been the correct choice.
That did not mean he regretted it.
Unlike single-player games, MMORPGs inevitably involved longer playtimes and far more experimentation. Since this game was meant to serve as the foundation for those MMORPGs, including such systems was not strange at all.
Still, given how difficult development already was with such a tiny team, practically a solo project, it did make him wonder whether it would have been more efficient to release this game in a simpler form and save those systems for when he developed an MMORPG later.
Even though these judgments seemed minor, realizing things like this mattered because they could have saved months of development time. In that sense, this realization itself counted as gaining experience as a developer.
He already remembered these concepts intellectually while studying development, but actually feeling and understanding them firsthand was an entirely different matter.
To gamers who always demanded masterpieces or “god-tier” games, this way of thinking might not sound very appealing. But developers also lived in reality, so judgments and compromises like these were important.
Gamers themselves would probably rather have a company consistently release fairly good games over a long period of time instead of making one game, going bankrupt, or taking forever between releases, right?
In any case, because the alpha version was not dramatically different from the prototype, testing proceeded relatively quietly. Though saying that was somewhat meaningless since the total number of testers, including himself, was only three people anyway.
Thanks to already having caught most of the bugs once, things were far easier this time.
Though it’s ridiculous that bugs still keep appearing even after all that fixing.
After about five days of checking and adjustments, things seemed mostly stable.
Even so, he could not end testing carelessly. They searched thoroughly for any possible issues, and in the end, alpha testing consumed a full fifteen days.
Once alpha testing ended, they immediately moved into final preparations for beta. They finalized previously postponed elements and adjusted parts they found questionable during alpha.
Functionally, the game was already nearly complete during alpha, so the current work could essentially be considered polishing.
“This is the final sprint now.”
“Huh? Don’t I have anything to do?”
Eunha finished her tasks first. A few days earlier, she finally completed the endless list after finishing several maps and event illustrations.
“Nope. Nothing for now. Though there might be revisions later.”
“Wow...”
Rather than happiness, Eunha looked more like someone unsure what to do after suddenly losing all her work. Seeing a young middle school girl already looking so worn down by work made Insu feel guilty about what he had done.
Perhaps because of that, he replied with the gentlest smile he could manage.
“I’ll probably be done in about a week too. Then we’ll have to start testing again, so just rest for now.”
“And after that testing is over?”
“Then it’s complete.”
“Oh!”
Eunha noona wore a look of disbelief. Honestly, Insu felt much the same way. Work that once seemed like it would never end had finally begun revealing its finish line. The battered planning notebook was now filled with check marks on nearly every page.
Still, letting his guard down was dangerous. The finishing phase was always the most important.
While Insu and Eunha raced toward the end like this, Seongcheol and Hyein also busily worked behind the scenes to support them.
First of all, the corporation was already established.
“Please hand over the documents.”
“Yes.”
On the application Seongcheol handed to the registration office employee was written the name [Parallel Soft].
The exact same logo displayed inside the game Insu created.
The corporation was registered successfully afterward, but Seongcheol could not feel entirely at ease. And understandably so, since it cost a tremendous amount of money. Unlike the twenty-first century, this era required a large amount of capital to be deposited into a bank, along with substantial notarization fees and license taxes. In total, over four million won vanished.
Some people might think that was not much money for establishing a company, but they had to remember that Insu’s company was currently nothing but an empty shell, and Seongcheol was merely an ordinary office worker without much capital.
Still, he did not regret it.
Because Seongcheol had already played Insu’s game.
There’s no way something like that could fail.
He was convinced of its success, and burying such a game would have been a sin. More importantly, he was giving wings to his son. Considering he already prepared himself to spend over a decade raising and supporting Insu even before discovering his genius, this much felt insignificant.
Well... not that four million is actually insignificant.
But creating the corporation with great difficulty was not the end. This corporation was a game development company, not a distributor.
Unlike the twenty-first century, where electronic software distribution networks like Steam or Google Play existed, games in this era had to be sold physically like any other manufactured product.
(Translator’s Note: Steam — Digital game distribution platform launched by Valve in 2003. It began expanding into third-party game distribution in the mid-2000s.)
If the internet already existed, they could have used a shareware sales method like the developers of Doom. But there were not even any ISPs yet, meaning they would have to wait at least another five years.
(Translator’s Notes: Shareware — A software distribution model popular in the 1990s where users could freely distribute or try part of a game before purchasing the full version.)
(Translator’s Notes: Doom — Revolutionary first-person shooter from Insu’s previous-life memories, known for running on a wide range of hardware through ports and optimization.)
In the end, they had to find a distributor. Still, they did not recklessly charge into the industry blindly.
Korea in this world had a somewhat larger population and slightly better economy than the world Insu came from. But the difference was not huge, and the level of societal development was fairly similar.
As a result, the gaming industry remained underdeveloped, meaning the game distribution field was practically a lawless wilderness. If Seongcheol, someone only mildly interested in games and almost completely inexperienced in business, walked into that world unprepared, he would likely be torn apart alive.
So instead, he began by using his connections.
“Hey, Hyunsu. It’s me, Seongcheol. Yeah. Long time no see.”
They did not have direct connections to game distributors, but just as the saying went that you could connect to even the president within four introductions, there was a decent chance something useful would turn up if they searched through acquaintances.
And in fact, through one of Hyein’s acquaintances rather than Seongcheol’s, they managed to connect with a software distributor.
“Huh? Really? That unni works at Hyun Soft now? Didn’t she originally work at some trading company?”
[She did, but apparently she got into a huge fight with her boss, quit, and moved there. So should I connect you with unni Mijin?]
“Yeah. I only have her old contact information, so I wanted to ask a favor.”
[Got it. I’ll contact unni Mijin first and call you back afterward.]
“Thanks! I’ll treat you next time!”
Hyun Soft was actually a fairly large distributor. And since Mijin currently worked there, despite not being in touch lately, she was someone Hyein saw quite often back in college, making this a very promising connection.
While his parents searched for ways to release Insu’s game into the world, Insu steadily continued development and finally completed the beta version.
(Translator’s note: Beta Version — Public-facing pre-release development stage used for external testing by ordinary players before official release.)
“Noona! It’s finished! The beta version!”
Insu informed Eunha, his development partner, over the phone first.
“Huh? Really?! I’ll come right away!”
Eunha sounded as though she had just woken up from a nap, her voice still rough. Even so, the moment she heard it was complete, her voice immediately rose with excitement.
“Yeah. But don’t rush too much. Be careful on your way here, okay?”
The call had already disconnected.
Insu stared worriedly at the receiver for a moment before snickering softly and putting it down.
“Ha...”
An entire year had passed since development began. And not a single moment of it was spent aimlessly. Every single day was so dense with development work that it felt like those memories were all he had left.
The game had not even been released yet, but simply having created it already felt like a reward for all the hardship they endured.
Of course, that was only emotionally speaking. His motivation had not diminished at all. If anything, anticipation only made him burn even hotter.
Ding dong!
It seemed Eunha noona had arrived while he was lost in thought.
What, did she fly here?
He checked through the peephole just in case, and it really was her. She looked just as excited as he was.
“You really finished it?”
“Yeah. It’s still the beta version, but there’s nothing more to add, and we already checked everything thoroughly during alpha.”
“But you’re still going to test it, right?”
“Since it’s the last phase, we need to be even more thorough.”
At this answer, Eunha looked utterly exhausted. Unlike Insu, who understood normal development stages, she still could not fully comprehend why they kept obsessively checking things over and over instead of simply rushing through development and finishing.
Of course, she understood it intellectually by now after hearing it from Insu countless times, but understanding and truly realizing something were different matters. Honestly, even Insu himself had not fully grasped it emotionally yet, so her reaction was only natural.
Regardless of their abilities, both of them still needed more experience before they could become complete professionals.
“Anyway, move aside!”
“Okay, noona.”
Insu immediately gave up his seat. A precious tester had arrived, after all. Grinning, Eunha took the spot and skillfully moved her fingers through the folders before launching the game.
She started out almost completely computer illiterate, but after spending an entire year being worked to the bone by Insu while focusing on development, she became even more proficient than many twenty-first-century computer users.
Maybe I should try teaching her some coding too?
The thought suddenly crossed Insu’s mind. Of course, she was the graphics specialist, but development always involved unexpected variables, so if she could support even slightly outside her main field, the team’s overall development capability would improve dramatically.
If Eunha knew what he was thinking, she probably would have shuddered in horror while happily staring at the logo right now. Honestly, even just learning computer graphics over the past year was already difficult enough for her.
No matter how much artistic instinct she had, there was still an enormous gap between simply drawing and implementing those drawings through computers.
Perhaps the only reason she managed it was because she was still a middle school student at an age where her ability to learn was at its peak.