Chapter 5
Chapter 5
“Well... I can draw a little. But Mom isn’t very good at drawing.”
“Mhm. Okay.”
Fortunately, instead of looking deeply disappointed, Insu simply nodded and hurried away with quick little steps before she could say anything else.
“...”
Children were truly impossible to understand sometimes. Hyein stared briefly at his small retreating figure before returning to stir-frying the anchovies.
Sitting back down in the computer chair, Insu wondered about his father instead. Although Seongcheol was from a science and engineering background, he already had several unexpected sides to him for this era, such as knowing how to use computers and being interested in games.
But after thinking it over again, even if his father could draw, he probably would not have the time to help. At this point in history, six-day workweeks were still normal. On top of that, his father often went to work on Sundays and seemed to work overtime frequently as well.
In the past, Insu had only wondered why his father always came home late, but after regaining the memories of his previous life, all he felt now was gratitude.
He should rest when he comes home.
There was no one else left to ask. There was only so much one could expect from the social circle of a five-year-old child. Of course, there were other people he knew, such as his kindergarten teacher, the neighborhood ajummas, and some older boys and girls nearby.
But the kindergarten teacher was essentially a business relationship, and the others were people he only recognized by face, so asking them for help felt awkward.
Still, if someone truly had ability, he would have to shamelessly approach them eventually.
First of all, instead of a linear JRPG-style story, I should probably go with the kind of high-freedom structure that’s popular in the West.
In truth, it was hard to outright call the linear storytelling of JRPGs a flaw. Games were enjoyable and immersive precisely because they were simpler and easier than reality, and that kind of straightforward progression dramatically lowered the barrier to entry.
Moreover, with computer performance still severely limited, such linear structures might actually have been the best way to maximize restricted resources and deliver the strongest experience possible.
Still, that style simply did not match Insu’s tastes. Considering the advanced games he had enjoyed in the twenty-first century, it was unavoidable.
Besides, if he thought about his long-term vision, he needed to create a world with as much freedom and interaction as possible rather than something restrictive like a stage play.
Of course, he was not saying he intended to create games identical to those from his previous life right away. He only meant that in comparison to the standards of this era, his ideas were more advanced.
And he had mentioned the word “vision” several times already. His plans were so long and complicated that it would have been difficult to explain them briefly, but if he had to summarize his nearest goal, it would be creating an MMORPG.
(Translator’s Note: MMORPG — Short for “Massively Multiplayer Online Role-Playing Game,” a genre of online game where large numbers of players interact simultaneously in a persistent virtual world.)
The single-player RPG he planned to make now would still function as an independent game, but he intended to use it as a stepping stone by establishing systems that would later carry over into the MMORPG, while also sharing the same setting and worldbuilding. Because of that, he planned to cram in all kinds of systems to an almost excessive degree.
Well, even if I cram things in, the limitations of current computers are obvious enough.
One by one, Insu pulled concepts, systems, and ideas from the future out of his memory and examined whether they were technically possible in the current environment, and whether they were possible with his own abilities.
He might have reincarnated into another parallel world and become young again, which made him feel ambitious, but that did not mean his development skills had suddenly become extraordinary.
Real-time systems are probably impossible for now.
If the game itself were simple, it might have worked. But processing the kind of complex systems Insu envisioned in real time would be difficult in the current computer environment. Perhaps it could work if he stretched the tick intervals absurdly long, but at that point, a turn-based system would simply be better.
So for his first game, turn-based combat seemed like the best choice. Of course, since the world itself would still allow free exploration, only the battles would be turn-based while normal movement remained real-time.
That sort of hybrid system was actually fairly common during the 1980s and 1990s.
And so, for about three days, he filled notebooks with scribbles.
In his previous life, he would have done this sort of thing on a computer or smartphone. But smartphones obviously did not exist yet, and the computer was in the living room, which made him self-conscious. More importantly, every time he turned it on, he had to sit through several minutes of screeching noises.
There were document editing programs too, but their design and usability felt so inconvenient that using a notebook honestly seemed preferable.
Still, this notebook is kind of ridiculous too.
Since it was meant for children, the spacing between lines was incredibly wide. Combined with his messy handwriting that looked exactly like a kindergartener’s, it felt less like game design and more like doodling.
Even if he had memories from his previous life, his body was still that of a kindergartener, and he had never had good handwriting even back then.
Besides, once you hit the twenty-first century, people barely write by hand anymore anyway.
Making excuses to no one in particular, Insu continued drafting his design document.
What else was there?
After writing intensely for a long while, his hand suddenly stopped. He knew there was more, but it was the sort of thing that would not immediately flow out on command. In situations like this, it was more efficient not to force it and instead come back later when inspiration struck naturally.
Then should I start building the setting?
He had no intention of creating some wildly original world. Since his ultimate goal was an MMORPG, he planned to make a familiar and easy-to-accept standard medieval fantasy setting instead.
Fantasy as a genre would not truly explode in popularity until later, but as a backdrop for RPGs, it was still unmatched.
In my original world, after the eighties, fantasy became so overused that people started getting bored and experimented with sci-fi or martial arts settings too. But not many of those became major successes, right?
And he did not intend to make the setting overly rigid. Since MMORPGs naturally required constantly adding new things over time, tightly locking down every detail from the beginning would only lead to inconsistencies and headaches later. For now, his plan was to establish only broad concepts like the existence of magic, multiple gods, and multiple races.
That should cover the broad framework, right?
Now it was time to fill in the details one by one.
“Insu?”
“Yes?”
Completely absorbed in scribbling notes, he looked up at the sudden sound of his mother’s voice.
“It’s time to eat.”
“Already?”
Murmuring absently, he looked around for the clock and realized it was already nearing six in the evening.
It was slightly earlier than yesterday, but it was undeniably dinner time.
He had been so immersed that he completely lost track of time. His eyes unconsciously drifted toward the computer. He had originally planned to start development today, yet somehow he had not even turned it on once.
But thinking about it carefully, wanting to begin immediately had simply been impatience on his part. Spending weeks, or even months, on planning was perfectly normal in game development.
The only reason Insu could sketch things out this smoothly was because he already knew countless future games and had experience with game planning from his previous life.
Afterward, Insu spent another five days completing the design. Or rather, it would be more accurate to say he established a large enough framework to begin development.
“What are you writing so seriously?”
There had been a crisis in the middle of all this. After all, from a mother’s perspective, it was strange and intriguing that a five-year-old child came home from kindergarten every day only to sit down and scribble in a notebook nonstop.
Especially since he used to spend all his time either playing with toys or running around outside.
“Huh? Uh...”
Insu had never intended to keep game development secret forever. They lived in the same house, and he would be working on the computer sitting openly in the living room. Hiding it completely was impossible from the start.
So he had already prepared himself for the possibility that people might see him as strange, or even as a genius. Even so, actually showing it to someone still made him hesitate. Especially because showing your parents something you personally created was not easy.
Honestly, if I were really just some clueless little kid, I could probably show it off proudly.
“Well... I want to make games.”
Caught off guard, Insu stumbled awkwardly over his words before finally managing to say that much.
“Huh? Computer games?”
“Hm? Y-Yes.”
His mother looked slightly surprised. Confused by her casual reaction, Insu nodded, while Hyein glanced through the messy notebook covered in childish handwriting before gently patting his head.
“Okay. Work hard.”
Only after she walked away did the frozen Insu finally understand the situation.
Well, yeah. It’d actually be weirder if someone seriously believed a five-year-old was making a computer game.
Since his mother did not seem to know much about computers, she might not even realize that ordinary individuals could create computer games in the first place.
Insu felt relieved, yet at the same time, his pride was slightly wounded.
I mean, I really am five years old, but still.
Being treated as though his serious development work was just child’s play unexpectedly ignited his competitive spirit. Still, it would have been ridiculous if he suddenly forgot that moments ago he had wanted to hide things to avoid being seen as strange and instead passionately launched into a full presentation about his game development plans.
In the end, he would have to let results speak for themselves.
And two days later, he finally began coding.
Finally.
Thankfully, the compiler called POWER C seemed similar to Turbo C from his previous life and came with its own built-in code editor. Of course, compared to the environment he once knew, it was still inconvenient, but it was far better than smashing his head against a barebones OS text editor from scratch.
(Translator’s Notes: OS — Operating System. Core system software that manages hardware, applications, files, memory, input, output, and the user interface.)
“Phew...”
Now he had to implement everything manually from one to ninety-nine. In his previous life, he could have reused large amounts of existing code, but here, there was no internet. And even if there were, it was unlikely that enough data existed online for open-source resources to be common.
Well, I’ll just think of it as studying and practicing.
If he intended to live as a developer in the future, he needed to grow accustomed to coding anyway.
One by one, Insu broke apart the systems written in his planning notebook into smaller pieces in another notebook, then began coding them individually.
At first, staring at the completely empty editor screen felt overwhelming. But thanks to the things he had practiced and copied in his previous life, along with the example code in the books, he was at least able to slowly fumble his way across the keyboard.
This is going to take a while.
Experienced programmers supposedly developed a sense for estimating workloads quickly, but honestly, Insu had no idea. He had made games as practice before, but most of the time, he had essentially copied things while struggling just to keep up, leaving him no room to think about schedules or estimates.
Still, one thing was clear. At this pace, there was no way he could create something impressive within only a few months like the famous genius developers did.
I could probably do it if I made something really low quality, but that’d defeat the point.
It seemed inevitable that he would eventually need to find teammates. But for now, that was impossible. Even in comics or novels, nobody followed around a five-year-old child.
Since he needed something tangible to show others first, it looked like this solo development phase would continue for quite some time.
At the very least, I should implement a simple combat system first.
Although it was turn-based, he was not planning to use a grid-based system where characters moved across a chessboard-like map each turn.
Games like that could certainly be fun when done well. Even in his previous life, masterpieces like Baldur’s Gate 3 had been released. But those were extremely rare exceptions.
(Translator’s Note: Baldur’s Gate — Western computer RPG released by BioWare in 1998, based on Advanced Dungeons & Dragons. It used real-time-with-pause party combat and became a landmark title in Western RPGs.)
That style of combat, especially character movement, could easily make gameplay feel tedious.
This issue could already arise in stage-based games like Langrisser, where developers carefully designed enemy and ally placements. But it became even more pronounced in games like the one Insu envisioned, where players freely explored fields and repeatedly entered battles.
(Translator’s Notes: Langrisser — Strategy RPG series first released in 1991 by Masaya. It is known for fantasy warfare, tactical battles, and character-driven scenarios.)
On the other hand, classic turn-based combat where monsters simply stood directly in front of you exchanging attacks without any sense of distance felt far too boring. It also made it difficult to implement the various systems Insu wanted.