Dodge the Fireball 2.0

Even after returning to the dorm, my mind refused to settle. In the quiet room, I lay on the bed staring at the ceiling. A comfortable position on a soft mattress—in my old life, I'd have been out like a light in seconds. But sleep was the last thing on my mind. Instead, one scene kept replaying in my head.

Whoosh—boom!

"Aaaagh!"

"Next!"

Fireballs flying, students dodging and rolling. When someone got hit and collapsed, another seamlessly took their place. Even the conversations among the spectators watching alongside me.

"The creator of Dodge the Fireball is a god!"

"Was Sudoku just a fad of its time...?"

I let out a sigh and picked up the mana panel I'd tossed aside.

"...This got bigger than I expected."

Dodge the Fireball was little more than a rough sketch. I'd made it out of necessity due to the status window's restrictions and uploaded it to the community. I figured a few people would try it, leave reviews, and that'd be that.

But now? The entire academy was buzzing about Dodge the Fireball. Students were obsessed, even recreating it in real life for fun.

"Even accounting for external factors, this is overkill."

I dry-washed my face against the wave of embarrassment and shame. I'd played tons of games in my past life, but this was my first time making one. It seemed decent enough while I was building it, but looking back now, it was full of flaws.

"...Still."

That didn't mean I wanted to scrap Dodge the Fireball and start a whole new game right away. As someone with memories of my past life and a status window, stopping here would...

"Bruise my pride."

Fine, since it's blown up this much, why not overhaul it properly? I relaxed and opened the status window.

It hadn't even been a week, but with everything that had happened, the all-white space felt like ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a distant memory.

"Good to see you, status window."

[...]

Truth be told, there wasn't anything wrong with Dodge the Fireball itself. What I felt was lacking was the genre's limits and the details.

"My skills aren't up to adding details right now."

So what to do?

"Play to my strengths."

Drawn by some inexplicable pull, I'd visited the training grounds without fail every day for the past few days. From 5 p.m. when classes ended until the grounds closed at midnight. Watching countless students dodge fireballs inspired me toward a different genre from pure dodgers.

"Bullet hell."

Exemplified by games like West Project or Thunderstorm Flight—the genre where you weave through dense barrages of bullets filling the screen. Strictly speaking, comparing current Dodge the Fireball to other bullet hells was unfair. High-risk patterns, flashy attacks, enemy elements—tons were missing.

But I could clearly see the potential for evolution in the students' agile movements.

"Ignore everything else. Max out the bullet hell elements, and that'll be enough."

...Mainly because adding more would probably hit status window restrictions again.

First, I adjusted the fireball spawn interval.

1 second. 0.7 seconds. 0.5 seconds.

Not dense enough for a barrage.

"Double casting? Need quadruple at least to form a net."

Whoosh—whoosh—whoosh—whoosh—

"Next, more freedom in character movement... This should do it?"

I slid the character up, down, left, right, dodging fireballs. Slipping left through a gap as a fireball split mid-air into multiples.

"Oh."

The feel was surprisingly good.

...Maybe a bit of my past-life habits showing through.

"Nice, nice."

I clapped my cheeks with both palms. Now ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the real work began.

"Tracking... This might be too hard. Will anyone beat it?"

"Gah! The problem is it doesn't stand out from other fireballs...!"

"Should probably give a tell right before it spreads."

Test. Test. Test.

After endless testing...

"..."

Whoosh—whoosh—shwooo—

Fireballs painted the screen in dazzling patterns. Advance? Retreat? Only one safe spot.

0.1 seconds. A split-second choice decided survival.

"No! Go left—"

Boom!!!!!

"Kaboom."

As complete darkness fell outside the pure white space...

I had finally reborn Dodge the Fireball.

"Original file's on the mana panel anyway... Should be fine."

"Save it!"

The status window's follow-up made me pause before answering on reflex.

"Hold on a sec."

When I first uploaded to the community, I didn't add any description. Just dropped the file and done.

But things were different now. Mages were nonstop firing fireballs at the training grounds. The board was flooded with concept posts. And this patch wasn't minor—it was basically a new game compared to the original.

I could've gone the same route and still gotten buzz, but...

"When the tide's coming in, you row, or you're an idiot."

People with no resistance to games and dopamine? They'd go nuts.

I nodded and opened the community tab.

"Patch notes are the safest bet, right?"

Familiar from my past life. On update days, even if servers were down, I'd spend hours on the homepage reading notes, hyped.

I read it over once more.

"Changes, additions, greeting... This should work."

Clean and to the point—no need for fluff. Players would get it the moment they tried it. That Dodge the Fireball 2.0 was a whole new beast.

I hit upload.

Then, exhaustion and satisfaction washed over me as I closed my eyes.

But.

The mana panel's buzz forced them open.

Bzzz bzzz bzzz—

"Haa... Who the hell ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠at this hour."

Thinking it was a call from the persistent vibration, I grabbed it.

"...All notifications?"

Over 50 comments already below it.

"Less than 5 minutes since upload—how are they commenting this fast?"

Not just comments.

"...Huh. Good reactions."

It wasn't just game talk—they were interacting like a real community from my past life. Super positive too. First shock at the update, then bafflement at the massive notes, finally hype for release.

Even without faces, I could picture their expressions. Sleep fled as I flopped onto my stomach, diving into the community proper.

Propping my chin, I pondered.

"...Monetize, huh."

The community was cheering my game now, but charging money would change things. Expectations up, complaints sure to follow.

"...Still."

I scrolled the community again. In the brief pause, pages of new posts. All about Dodge the Fireball.

'Take our money!!!!'

That line itched at my brain.

"Ha. Never thought I'd see a legendary meme post-reincarnation."

I closed the community app and opened another: Nista Marketplace.

At first, no interest. Even thinking about it felt burdensome.

But now? Mindset shifted.

With this much love and support.

I shrugged.

"Can't just sit idle."

Plus, current Dodge the Fireball wouldn't embarrass me even on the bigger platform.

"Hmm... price."

I paused at the price field.

Price... how much? Value of my effort?

"Status window did all the work... I just idead and clicked."

Production costs?

"Drank a coffee or two while making."

Coffee price? Casual thought, but ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠not bad.

"Any Grace Academy student wouldn't balk at three coffees' worth."

I entered the price, hit upload.

Just wait for the weekend now.

"Huh. Easier than thought."

Closed the market tab, opened community for promo.

Then.

Woooon woooon woooon—

Notifications piled up at a speed leagues beyond comments.

"Wait—"

"Didn't check reservations...?"