Chapter 28
Chapter 28
In this world as well, Korea had first begun providing PC communication services in 1986, and as awareness gradually spread, another PC communication service called COTEL had launched just last year.
But even now, in 1990, it was still only in the introductory stage, so the number of users remained relatively small.
Still, among people highly interested in computers, quite a few actively used PC communication services.
And developers or aspiring developers were especially likely to belong to that group.
“But can you really recruit people through something like that?”
Hyein had received a rough explanation from Seongcheol about what PC communication was, but she still couldn’t quite grasp it.
“I’m telling you, it works. Honestly, computer experts probably check PC communication bulletin boards more often than university job boards. And not everyone good with computers is about to graduate from university, right?”
“Mhm. Well, I don’t really understand it anyway. I’ll leave that side to you, Oppa.”
Afterward, Hyein and Seongcheol created recruitment notices and visited universities all around Seoul.
At the time, some regional universities still held strong prestige, but traveling around the entire country was too difficult, and since they weren’t recruiting huge numbers anyway, they only visited several universities in Seoul to post notices.
And Seongcheol signed up for a PC communication service from home.
Beeeeeeep—
In truth, he had already been interested in PC communication before.
But because of work, lack of time, and the burden of having to pay a triple cost consisting of membership fees, service fees, and telephone charges, he had never tried it until now.
So this became his first experience.
There’s nothing but text.
The moment he connected, a page filled entirely with text greeted him.
He had already heard about it beforehand, but for someone accustomed to games with the vivid graphics of 386 computers, it looked unbearably plain.
Still, once he started selecting menus through typing and entering pages one by one, he began to feel something unusual.
It feels... raw somehow?
Unlike completed games sold in packages, these bulletin boards received information in real time, giving them a strong sense of being “alive.”
It felt as though there were real people beyond the monitor instead of just cold machines, all connected together somehow.
It kind of feels like I’ve stepped into a science fiction world.
He thought he could now vaguely understand why one of his coworkers had once spent hundreds of thousands of won on phone bills.
Though he still didn’t think he would ever become like that himself.
After briefly browsing various sections, including the gaming boards, Seongcheol remembered his original purpose and began searching for bulletin boards where he might find developers.
This should be enough, right?
[Game Development Club Bulletin Board]
[Computer Programming Bulletin Board]
[Game Production Project Bulletin Board]
There were also freelancer and developer sections under the job boards, as well as university-specific bulletin boards.
As for the university boards, part of him wondered whether posting there was redundant since they were already putting up recruitment notices on physical university bulletin boards.
But as mentioned earlier, those physical boards were mostly viewed by graduating students, while online and offline access routes differed significantly.
But this really has no end to it.
The university boards in PC communication services were divided down to individual departments, so posting manually on every single one was unrealistic.
Thus, Seongcheol limited himself to computer engineering departments or, in universities without computer engineering departments or dedicated boards, the engineering faculty boards instead.
At first, Seongcheol moved awkwardly, but since he was naturally interested in games and computers, he adapted quickly and soon managed to spread posts at considerable speed.
Park Yoonsu was a freshman who entered university this year.
But unlike someone who should have been filled with excitement and dreams about university life, he found going to school miserable every day.
It wasn’t because he was antisocial and hated meeting people outside the house.
Nor was it because he failed the entrance exams and couldn’t enter the university he wanted.
Damn it. This really is a waste of time.
Returning to his small rented room, Yoonsu tossed his bag onto the bed and sighed.
Yoonsu considered himself a genius.
No, even now, he still thought so.
If others heard him, they might say he still suffered from middle-school syndrome even after entering university, but he undeniably possessed something exceptional.
That was his programming ability.
After becoming obsessed with the Alltech 8-bit computer his father bought him in sixth grade, he taught himself coding.
By middle school, he had created simple games, and by high school, he had even developed and operated a MUD game.
Of course, the MUD game was almost a direct copy of a famous foreign MUD, and the service only supported a tiny number of users.
Even so, in this era, a minor independently developing a game alone was unquestionably extraordinary.
Yoonsu himself thought so too, which was why he believed his path was that of a developer.
And since he had already created games himself, he saw no need to learn anything more.
But his parents felt differently.
This was an era when university entrance rates were rapidly increasing, and many parents believed children should attend university if at all possible.
Unable to withstand his mother’s endless nagging and his father’s stick, Yoonsu eventually entered university.
And despite lacking strong passion for entrance exams because he considered himself a genius, he still managed to enter Daehan University, one of Seoul’s top universities.
Though he came unwillingly, since he was at least majoring in computer engineering, he had hoped there would be something worthwhile to gain.
Instead, he became disappointed.
Why the hell are they teaching NAVA?
Most real development work happened in ASTRA environments.
(Translator’s Notes: Astra — GUI-based operating system in this world, similar to Windows from Insu’s previous-life memories.)
And on top of that, the university curriculum was far too basic.
Even Yoonsu, who was not particularly familiar with NAVA, already knew everything being taught.
Because of this, Yoonsu was considering dropping out.
After washing up, Yoonsu immediately turned on his computer.
Then he opened the project he had been working on recently.
It still feels lacking.
It was an RPG made in the style of Japanese RPGs that previously left a good impression on him.
Yoonsu considered the JRPG genre quite clever.
Most likely, those games were structured that way to cram everything into limited console cartridge space.
Players followed a mostly fixed storyline, sacrificing freedom but compensating for it through characters and story progression.
At the same time, they retained the signature RPG growth systems while using simple yet flashy combat to preserve the uniquely interactive feeling games possessed compared to novels that merely had to be read.
As a result, they reduced development effort while barely reducing the enjoyment given to players.
Having already made several homemade games himself, Yoonsu knew that development resources were limited.
He also knew there was never any guarantee development would succeed.
So rather than endlessly pouring resources into unattainable goals only to fail before even finishing, it was rational to use resources efficiently, create multiple projects, and increase the probability of success.
But if the resulting products all turned out mediocre, there was no point.
“Haah...”
After playing his game for a while, Yoonsu sighed and shut it down.
No matter how much he improved it, the smell of it being just another imitation of Legend of the Hero remained too strong.
Without realizing it, Yoonsu glanced toward the package sitting on his desk.
[The Land Of Fantasy]
Part of the reason he couldn’t feel satisfied with his own game was probably because of that title.
Honestly, Yoonsu was truly shocked while playing it.
Its complex yet delicate systems felt like the creation of an entirely new world, while the graphics, sound, design, UI, and every other aspect reached top-tier quality.
What was even more astonishing was that it was a Korean game.
Honestly, if it had simply been American, or even Japanese, he probably would have just thought, As expected of developed countries, or, There really are a lot of geniuses in advanced nations.
But realizing someone living in the same environment as himself had created something like this filled him with jealousy, pride, and countless complicated emotions.
Having lost his motivation to continue development, Yoonsu connected to PC communication to cool his head and gather information.
Beeeeeeep...
Yoonsu had always loved PC communication services.
At first, he became interested simply because the concept of networks fascinated him.
Then, while developing games alone, he endlessly browsed related bulletin boards searching for information, eventually becoming one of the longtime regulars there.
[Game Production Project Bulletin Board]
[Connecting to bulletin board...]
In the past, he had even participated in projects and developed games collaboratively.
But since they weren’t companies and participation was voluntary, development progress became endlessly delayed.
Eventually, the project itself exploded apart, and because of that experience, he never joined another project again.
Still, many people there had actual development experience and had successfully completed projects before, so the board remained a valuable source of information he visited often.
Still no replies.
What he had been searching for involved The Land Of Fantasy’s systems.
Because the game used highly unique and complex mechanics, it had become an interesting topic among game developers active on PC communication boards.
Moreover, since the systems themselves weren’t impossibly difficult to implement, many users uploaded recreated code attempting to reproduce them.
Yoonsu himself was particularly interested in posts recreating parts of the reincarnation system and had been studying them closely.
But seeing no new replies yet, he started browsing other posts instead.
“Huh?”
Then one particular post caught his attention.
{[Parallel Soft] Looking for Developers to Join Us!}
“...Is this real?”
Opening the post, he found the company location, phone number, application requirements, and other details all written quite seriously.
Of course, fake posts could also be written like this, but it seemed unlikely someone would go to such lengths for a joke, and instinctively, it felt genuine.
In the 21st century, people would have left comments underneath.
But in this era’s PC communication systems, replies could only be posted as entirely separate posts rather than comments.
Perhaps because of that, there were no joking comments beneath it to ruin the serious atmosphere or bury the post.
It interested him.
He already felt university was a waste of time, and although he continued solo development, he remained dissatisfied with the mediocrity of his results.
Maybe if I worked there, I could fill in what I’m lacking.
And he had already participated in collaborative development projects several times before.
Working with professionals to make games like The Land Of Fantasy instead of those frustrating amateurs...
It sounded extremely appealing.
But Yoonsu’s ego was exceptionally strong, and dropping out of university to get a job was not an easy decision either.
So he decided to think about it more.
Part of him also wanted to observe whether this recruitment notice was truly legitimate.
“Huh?”
Then one day at school.
By chance, while passing near a campus bulletin board, he noticed several students closely examining a recruitment notice.
Curious, he approached and looked at it himself.
{[Parallel Soft] Looking for Developers to Join Us!}
It was the exact same recruitment notice he had seen on the PC communication board.
Without realizing it, Yoonsu stepped closer and read it carefully.
It really is the same.
The contents were nearly identical as well.
At the very least, the post he had seen online was apparently not fake.
In truth, this was simply a highly probable coincidence.
Yoonsu attended university, used PC communication services, and was interested in game development. In other words, he was exactly the type of person Seongcheol had targeted by spreading recruitment notices around those environments.
But personal experiences were always interpreted from the perspective of the individual.
To Yoonsu, this felt almost like a revelation.
That was probably why, the moment he returned home, he immediately submitted an application through PC communication mail.