Fireball Dodge Takes the Streets
Despite hiccups like forgetting to add the reservation feature or the community buzzing more about me than the game itself, Dodge the Fireball 2.0 rode its explosive launch sales to a steady upward revenue graph even weeks later. To celebrate my success in making the game a hit, I'd skipped morning lecture that day as a little gift to myself.
My mana panel started blaring noisily from the morning. "Community notification?" Lately, I'd turned on community alerts for smooth ego surfing, so it buzzed 2-3 times a day. And before that? "…"
But contrary to my expectations, the screen that popped up wasn't the familiar community interface. It was an official email linked to the marketplace. Sender: Nista Marketplace official account.
"What? Why are they emailing me?" I sat up in bed and opened it.
I couldn't believe the content—I reread the email about four times. "…Sensational."
The game I made had caught the eye of the Nista family, nobles above nobles who even influenced the emperor. And they wanted to feature it not just as some entry-level title, but as main content in a continent-wide offline event?
I stared at my mana panel in silent shock. "~~~~~~!!!!"
After the initial commotion faded, I calmed down enough to conclude, "It'd be weirder not to do this."
The empire's biggest corporate house was offering free worldwide promotion—who turns that down? "And they didn't even mention money. Classy."
With terms this creator-friendly, refusing would be rude. Without a second thought, I fired off a reply.
GameDevKiddo
"Perfect." I hit send and nodded in satisfaction. Greeting. Thanks. Enthusiasm. Short and sweet, but it covered everything.
If my family saw this kind of reply, half of them would probably spit blood… "…Whatever. Mom and Dad aren't here anyway."
The next few days, my routine was weirdly peaceful. Like before I awakened the status window. Outside the dorms, though? Total chaos.
The community was still abuzz with Dodge the Fireball, and the academy's infirmary usage had spiked suspiciously… but that was none of my business anymore. "No clue what you're talking about. Nope."
Three days later, another email from Nista arrived.
I read it and pondered. No meetings… "Makes sense, I guess."
Why would a mega-corp bother meeting some academy kid who made one game? And sending a low-level staffer risks drama. "Actually works in my favor."
I hadn't revealed I was the creator yet—not intentionally, just no good timing. Meeting Nista folks now? "Hmm…"
Eh, whatever. Time to request an outing pass.
# Saturday morning. I loitered by Grace Academy's main gate until it opened, hopped into my reserved carriage, and headed to Academy City—about 15 minutes by carriage.
From above, it encircled the academy like a donut, hence the name.
A bit later, as the cityscape came into view through the window, my jaw dropped automatically. "They graffitied the entire wall?"
It evoked my past life's famous fairy tale: card soldiers locked in fierce battle. But that was just the opener.
Stepping off the carriage into the city, I froze. "…Whoa."
The main road to the plaza was crammed with tents and stalls themed around various apps. Banners showed card soldiers clashing swords, priests grinning beside them.
Deeper in, knights in cosplay strutted through crowds; others in Dodge the Fireball character outfits handed out flyers. "That knight cosplay's pro-level… Oh, wait, he's a real knight."
I stood there dazed, soaking it in. "…This much?"
I'd made one game. Yet half of Academy City was blanketed in Dodge the Fireball.
My stomach growled as I lingered. "Ah."
Hunger hit hard—I'd skipped breakfast and raced here. Food scents from nearby stalls were intoxicating. I headed to the closest one.
"One Fireball Bread, please."
"Coming right up~!"
The bread's fidelity surprised me: round loaf glazed in red syrup, dusted with yellow sugar powder on one side. First bite… "…This is straight-up croquette?"
Spicy meat zinged against the sweet glaze. Nibbling away, I strolled toward the plaza. Delicious food, my game everywhere—cliché, but I felt like I was flying.
Spotting a massive line while munching, my eyes locked on the sign.
[Dodge the Fireball 1.0 Experience Zone]
"Huh?" I glanced back up. "Updated to 2.0 ages ago—why 1.0?"
Curiosity pulled me over. No intent to play, so I skipped the line for the spectator seats.
The setup was shockingly legit—like a mini academy arena. Inner experience field, outer bleachers… "Colosseum vibes?"
"Next up, please wait!"
A kid student entered amid staff shouts. I watched, bread in hand.
"Field's ready—enter now!!"
The kid stepped in, nodded, and staff activated a nearby machine. Whirr— It glowed red at the front.
Then—thunk! A small fireball launched.
"…A machine shoots fireballs?" I leaned in for a closer look. No hidden mage—just a metal pitcher-like device firing them.
"Kinda cool."
Power was dialed down for the zone: wide intervals, straight-line shots. Still, the kid flailed. "Eek!"
"Dodge sideways! Sideways!"
He collapsed, legs giving out, drawing light laughs from the crowd.
I watched, then zeroed in on a woman in the front row, sighing heavily.
"Haa…"
Sigh. "Ehh…"
Another. That many sighs gotta give you a headache.
She glared at the machine, clad in soot-stained work clothes that couldn't dim her luster. Sunlit silver hair gleamed like mercury from my past life's docs. Even slouched, she exuded noble grace.
Machine creator? Investor? Staff?
Her face soured my game-inspired machine in the event's heart. Not thrilled, huh.
I've got skin in this game… Might as well meddle. I hesitated, then sat beside her. "Something wrong?"
She startled at my presence, glanced over, sighed again, and grumbled curtly. "That wasn't my original intent—a toy like that. Power should've been at least tenfold—"
Fancy speech, as expected. High noble branch family? Magitech engineer—rare combo.
She jerked her chin at the machine. "Even unrestricted, the circuits can't handle it. Barely matches a standard fireball."
I eyed it anew—not an event throwaway. Cylindrical barrel, adjustable pivot… Serious craftsmanship. Wonder if she'd sell one?
She moped. "At least Nista covered dev costs… Guess that's some consolation, getting it in an event like this."
Zero consolation on that face.
"But."
"Sigh, wasted time—I could've built more anti-monster traps… Huh?"
I'd inspected the machine and asked, "Aren't you obsessing too much over raw power?"
"What?"
"Uh… Ever played Dodge the Fireball?"
She scoffed. "You think I'm some backwater northern spinster tinkering with magitech, too out of touch for marriage or trends?"
"…Didn't say it that harsh."
"…"
"Anyway, if you've played, this'll be easier."
In Dodge the Fireball, it wasn't about one fireball's boom—especially post-2.0.
"Power matters, sure?"
"Obviously."
"But past a threshold, it's overkill. Gotta concentrate on single shots?"
Her brows furrowed. "…Keep going?"
"…"
In dodge/bullet hell genres, raw attack power wasn't key. It was the aesthetics of patterns.
"Pattern… aesthetics?"
"Power aside, fireballs do fire, right?"
"Duh."
"So why one shot at a time?"
She blinked. "…Huh?"
"Add circuits, quad computations, whatever. Split the fire."
"…"
"Or stagger timings for spread shots…"
I nodded at the flailing newbie entrant. "They're adapting now. Tweak the rhythm, add variation—they'll panic."
She alternated stares between machine and me. "Split intervals… Off-beat…?"
I shrugged. "Boils down to denying dodge space and annoying the enemy."
"…"
"Don't fixate on single-shot punch. Chain multiples—they'll tire out way faster."
Fatigue breeds carelessness, carelessness hits, hits lead to barrages… Even average power, taken that far? Plenty.
Her eyes widened—dull moments ago, now sparkling like stars. The participant stumbled out; during reset, she vaulted from bleachers to field with agile grace.
"Wait, you can't enter now—Miss?!"
"Wha—Senior, what do we do?!"
Ignoring the staff panic, she popped open the machine like it was possessed, tinkering furiously.
"Output… sufficient."
"Stagger timings…"
"Temp extra barrel… Done!"
I gulped, watching. "Didn't say anything that groundbreaking…"
Past-life bullet hell basics, stuff I'd internalized updating 2.0. But her reaction? Dramatic as hell.