Chapter 39: American Reactions
Chapter 39: American Reactions
No matter how much the development team expanded and increased its production capacity, Insu still had to personally oversee and control the process in order to turn the things in his head into reality.
That was something he realized even more clearly after assembling the current team and actually progressing through development.
Ah... this is seriously a game I want too.
After flipping through a few pages, another game caught Insu’s attention.
[The Metropolis]
Even though it had already been released the previous year, it remained such a massive hit that magazines were still continuously covering it.
The genre was city-building simulation, similar to SimCity from his previous life.
Of course, since this was another world, just because something resembled a successful game did not guarantee it would succeed here too.
Still, judging by the reactions so far, this game was already an undeniable blockbuster.
Yet despite feeling disappointed, Insu was not particularly bitter about it.
If the game had never existed in this world, that would have been one thing. But knowing that it was a title naturally destined to appear here anyway made the idea of rushing to release it himself feel somewhat complicated.
Would that count as plagiarism then? Hm... maybe not?
Those complicated feelings contributed to Insu’s decision to stop worrying about every potentially successful game and instead focus only on projects that aligned with his vision and that he could realistically create.
And first of all, the game we’re making right now comes before anything else.
With that, Insu tossed the magazine aside and returned to development.
While Insu was getting jealous and paying attention to the appearance of hit games like these, across the ocean in America, his own game was causing an enormous sensation.
“That’s right! This is exactly the kind of thing I wanted to create!”
Eric Johnson, a self-proclaimed aspiring game developer, had already spent over ten hours glued to TLF.
Then suddenly, he leapt from his seat and shouted.
At first, he played out of curiosity and admiration. Later, driven by jealousy, he carefully examined every detail, trying to find flaws somewhere in the design.
But instead, the game only pulled him deeper and deeper into its world.
As TLF’s popularity rose, it became a major topic among gamers.
Initially, many purists dismissed it as just another JRPG because of its appearance. But after seeing reviews from magazines and hearing praise from people who already played it, they gradually began trying it themselves.
And contrary to first impressions, this game was nothing like a JRPG.
In fact, it felt even more fundamentally rooted than existing CRPGs.
Or perhaps “fundamental” was not the right word. Depending on one’s perspective and interpretation, the meaning could differ entirely.
Still, the game offered minimal restrictions from story and setting, extremely high freedom, and intricate systems so detailed that the world felt as though it would continue existing even after the player stopped playing.
Those were exactly the kinds of experiences CRPG players had always dreamed about.
As a result, even people who hated JRPGs began flowing into the player base, and combined with the steadily spreading word of mouth, sales exploded once again.
Moreover, compared to other games of the era, the playtime was enormous.
Of course, focusing solely on the main quest did not take particularly long. But once side quests, various content systems, and the self-directed goals encouraged by the game’s highly flexible mechanics were included, it became a game that could, with only slight exaggeration, be enjoyed endlessly.
That kind of gameplay proved extremely effective within American society, where communities were highly developed.
And by “communities,” this did not refer to future internet communities, but offline groups.
There were churches, charity organizations, and neighborhood associations, but also many hobby-based groups similar to Korean-style clubs.
Naturally, among them were communities centered around computers and games.
America had many such groups even before the internet became widespread.
On top of that, PC communication networks were booming in America as well, and by 1989, internet service providers had already begun offering services, causing internet adoption to spread rapidly.
(Translator’s Notes: PC communication networks — Early online communication systems used before widespread internet adoption, often text-based bulletin board or dial-up network services.)
Of course, compared to the twenty-first century, the adoption rate was still low, but because America itself was such a large and wealthy country, the absolute number of users was still significant.
Eric Johnson also first heard about TLF through one of these PC communication communities before eventually playing it himself.
He absolutely loved RPGs.
He started with PC games, but his interest eventually expanded backward into TRPGs, which predated them.
And the imagination-driven nature of TRPGs inspired him deeply.
If you designed the systems well enough, wouldn’t it be possible not only to perfectly recreate a TRPG, but to create an experience that truly felt like connecting to a fantasy world?
Programming itself was fundamentally the act of implementing imagined systems through the tool known as code. Theoretically, as long as computer performance kept up, there should be no limit to what could be achieved.
Of course, the phrase “theoretically possible” covered far too broad a range.
After all, if one assumed the existence of a computer with infinite performance, it could theoretically simulate reality itself.
The issue was practical limitations.
Because of that, Eric had never held particularly high expectations for the advancement of games with the current level of computing technology. At best, he thought that someday he himself might contribute a single step toward that distant goal.
Yet suddenly, a game appeared that completely surpassed the small improvements he imagined and instead felt like something that should not exist for another ten or twenty years.
So real geniuses really do exist in this world...
But strangely, he did not feel despair.
Instead, he felt joy.
Perhaps it was arrogance, but he was genuinely happy that game development was advancing more quickly, and he believed that amid that rapid progress, he too could continue taking further steps and create something even more advanced himself.
Eric focused on the game again.
But this time, he was no longer playing simply for enjoyment.
He was analyzing it thoroughly.
Yoo Juyeon had always spoken very modestly about his sound design abilities.
“I didn’t attend an arts university or anything. My family sells instruments, so I just became interested and learned little by little.”
Of course, during the interview, Insu had already seen him working with FM synthesizers on the company computer.
But at the time, Insu’s impression had only been that he seemed somewhat better than himself.
Once actual production began, however, it became obvious that he was far beyond “somewhat better.”
“Like this?”
“Oh! That’s right! Wow!”
It was not as though Juyeon instantly produced perfect results the moment Insu spoke, like some sort of genius.
But whenever Insu described vague images from his head or crudely hummed melodies he remembered from his previous life, Yoo Juyeon would clutch his head in agony for a long while before somehow managing to create something similar.
“This kind of thing really isn’t that hard once you learn a bit of music theory.”
“Really?”
Insu did not believe that for a second, but it did not matter much.
He had no spare time to learn things like that himself, and besides, someone who could already do it was right here.
As a result, Yoo Juyeon was constantly squeezed dry by Insu whenever there was downtime between coding tasks.
“Please finish this much by this week.”
“...Excuse me?”
Yoo Juyeon stared blankly at the request sheet filled with various items, from combat sound effects to background music for tactical screen transitions, before eventually giving up in resignation.
It might seem like an excessive workload, but Insu was not simply overworking him without reason.
The alpha test schedule was gradually approaching, so not only did they need to complete the necessary sounds, but this month was also reserved for sound integration work: fine-tuning each sound to match the game’s overall atmosphere and creating event triggers to ensure the proper audio played during specific situations.
This development schedule was not tied to any external contract that absolutely had to be met, but if they wanted to release the game on their target date, they still needed to follow it as closely as possible.
After assigning work to Yoo Juyeon, Insu examined the sound files stored in the sound folder.
The file size feels a little excessive...
Even though these were sounds Yoo Juyeon painstakingly created, they could not simply include every single one.
Compared to consoles, PC games had greater storage freedom, but that did not mean capacity was unlimited.
We could reduce storage usage by using parameter modulation or DSP processing so similar sounds share a single base sample, but...
The problem was that this also required work.
Yoo Juyeon already seemed overloaded from handling both coding and music production, so Insu would probably have to throw himself into the work as well.
“Haa...”
Still, unlike the humble way Yoo Juyeon described himself at first, he was extremely meticulous in his work, carefully preventing channel overlap in situations where multiple sounds played simultaneously.
That was a blessing.
If the files were simply made carelessly, fixing them would have taken forever.
Park Yoonsu, who possessed strong enthusiasm for development, also seemed interested in sound work.
But because he already had a massive amount of his own tasks to handle, he could only glance over occasionally rather than truly participate.
Knowing Yoonsu’s enthusiasm, Insu could not bring himself to bluntly tell him to stop paying attention and focus solely on his own responsibilities, so he simply let it slide.
Still, honestly speaking, Insu could not help wondering whether it was really necessary for one person to know how to do absolutely everything.
Of course, different people pursued different ideals, but since his own goal involved massive projects like MMORPGs, collaboration with others was absolutely essential.
Even if someone became highly capable and versatile, the realistic limitation of time made it impossible to handle everything alone.
Especially because Insu knew just how quickly computers and games evolved, he understood that if development took too long, a game could become outdated before it even released.
Even a masterpiece only remains a masterpiece if it reaches its golden age at the proper time.
No matter how perfectly crafted a game was after ten years of artisan-level development, releasing a black-and-white 8-bit title during the age of high-quality 3D games would simply make it feel like hopelessly outdated nonsense.
Of course, retro gaming existed too, but even that had limits.
Insu agreed that games were art.
But at the same time, it was equally true that they were a business heavily influenced by time and environment.
Like this, development was accelerating rapidly in order to produce the Alpha Version.
“I’m home!”
It was after school, when Insu briefly stopped by the house.
“Son, wait a moment.”
“Yes?”
He only intended to wash his face quickly before heading straight to the office, so at first he thought his mother might be calling him over to give him snacks.
Instead, she handed him a bankbook.
It was the company account.
Money could have come in from Hyun Soft or Japan, but the fact that she specifically stopped him now to show it meant there was probably another reason.
And because there was something he was waiting for, Insu immediately realized what it was.
“Mom. This? Is it that? America?”
“Yep.”
Pleased by her son’s sharpness, Hyein grinned and nodded.
Insu smiled brightly and opened the account book with anticipation.
[Deposit VEL ENT INC USA 544,500 USD]
With the current exchange rate around 720 won... that’s roughly 400 million won?
Once he calculated the amount, his very first thought was that the first settlement payment was smaller than Japan’s.
Of course, 400 million won was still an enormous amount of money, but people naturally focused more on comparisons than absolute values.
“Velocity called earlier. They said around sixty thousand copies sold.”
“Ahh.”
Japan sold eighty thousand copies, so the sales figure was definitely lower.
Still, Insu was not particularly disappointed.
It was not because he was humble.
He already knew about the differences between the American and Japanese gaming markets.
Japan’s market revolved heavily around packaged sales, and that influenced other platforms as well.
Marketing also played a major role there, and gamers tended to want to experience new releases quickly while being heavily influenced by reviews and evaluations.
Game companies themselves had adapted to those tendencies too, which solidified the culture of extremely strong initial sales.
Footnote — Changes Made: Corrected paragraph flow into standard novel formatting; italicized inner thoughts; smoothed fragmented sentence structures; reduced unnecessary “had” usage; standardized glossary terms including Insu, Eric Johnson, Yoo Juyeon, Park Yoonsu, Hyein, TLF, The Land Of Fantasy, The Metropolis, Hyun Soft, Velocity Entertainment / Velocity Games, VEL ENT INC USA, Alpha Version, MMORPG, and SimCity; preserved the bankbook deposit line and dialogue; kept meaning intact without embellishment or compression.