Neo Gate (3)
The morning at Pangyo Techno Valley was as bustling as ever, but inside Neo Gate's office, the atmosphere was pure chaos. Kim Chi-gon's era — the man who had led the company for so long — had ended in an instant. Despite weathering countless crises, his reign, which had endured through it all, had been swept into the annals of history in just a few days.
> Master, the employee group chat is in complete chaos. A lot of people are worried about their future.
Over the past few days, I'd investigated all the materials and finished sorting out the personnel who needed to be cut.
"Well, today's the last day of it. Maybe it's because of the company's long history, but Jesus Christ, why are there so many damn documents..."
I was sitting on the office sofa as usual, muttering while looking at the screen Athena had pulled up. On the display she'd sent me, I could see Neo Gate's executives and employees with anxious eyes.
Then the door opened, and Arthur, Sarah, and some other working-level staff walked into the office.
> Looks like Mr. Arthur is about to take the microphone. Shall I turn up the volume?
"Yeah, turn it up a bit."
The grand auditorium in the building where Neo Gate's office was located.
Every single executive and employee of Neo Gate held their breath, staring at the foreign man on the podium — Arthur.
When their company had come under attack, they'd at least tried to find out who their attacker was, and they'd seen online that Arthur was a man who'd made a name for himself on Wall Street.
For ordinary employees to receive the gaze of someone who'd lived in a world where trillions of won moved through trading — it was an immense psychological pressure in itself.
The fact that he was the usurper who'd swapped out their company's owner only amplified that pressure.
"Nice to meet you. I'm Arthur Sullivan of Black Ridge Capital. I understand your bewilderment and anxiety, but in the world of business, owners can change at any time."
Arthur gave a light gesture to Sarah, who was standing beside him. She manipulated the tablet she was holding, and a list of names appeared on the auditorium's large screen.
"We've gathered you all here for two reasons. First is for termination."
At Sarah's words, the audience stirred.
They'd already guessed why only a portion of the employees — not everyone — had been called here, and the atmosphere sank instantly.
"Those whose names appear on this screen must leave the company immediately. Instead of severance pay, you'll be receiving lawsuits for obstruction of business and breach of trust."
The room erupted into murmurs at her words. At the same time, I could see the relief on the faces of those whose names hadn't appeared on the screen.
As the ones whose names were on the screen were dragged out by suited men, the only people left in the auditorium were those lucky enough not to have received lawsuits.
"As for the rest of you — you're the ones who've been excluded from the projects we'll be pursuing going forward. So we're giving you a choice. We'll offer you statutory severance plus 24 months' salary. Take it and leave the company quietly."
Most of them admitted that they'd risen through the ranks by playing politics and sucking up to their superiors. They accepted the offer cleanly, signed the papers, and filed out of the auditorium.
But some of those remaining started shouting about unfair dismissal, claiming they'd served the company for over a decade.
"Keep your voices down."
At Sarah's short command, the auditorium went silent again, cowed by her presence.
"You're talking about unfair dismissal, but don't be mistaken. This is the last chance we're giving you."
As Sarah spoke and manipulated her tablet, the screen changed. On it was a dense collection of reports and evidence regarding the workplace harassment and abuse of personnel authority they'd inflicted on their subordinates over the years.
"We've already conducted a full investigation of your internal message records and work logs from the past five years. The moment you refuse this offer, you won't be treated as voluntary retirees — you'll be placed on standby duty, where you'll come in from 9 AM to 6 PM, stare blankly at the wall, and then go home."
Sarah glanced at her watch, then delivered her ultimatum to the remaining employees.
"The moment you walk out that door, this offer expires. Starting tomorrow, you'll be spending your time exactly as I described — meaninglessly. Choose."
At Sarah's words, every single one of them quietly signed and left the auditorium.
"Whoa... she's scarier than I thought."
I watched Sarah casually flip her hair and walk out of the auditorium after cleaning out the dead weight like it was nothing.
"Besides those guys, have any other employees left?"
> Yes. We announced that anyone who disliked our future direction or felt uneasy would also receive 24 months of salary and be allowed to resign, and a few people did take it.
It wasn't like the entire staff had left. Just the people who'd been poisoning the company atmosphere and a few working-level staffers had walked. I could fill the rest back in.
"Still, I managed to hold onto everyone I wanted, so it's not a big problem."
The long, long preparation work was finally over.
I'd already secured replacements for the positions of everyone useless we were clearing out, so there was no need to hesitate — we could start immediately.
> I've finished analyzing and fixing the source code. I haven't applied the changes yet, though.
"Were there any big problems in the code you analyzed?"
> The code was spaghetti, but there wasn't any issue otherwise. However, in last year's winter update, the probability tables were adjusted to favor the game company.
"...No wonder it felt so goddamn rigged. I thought I was just unlucky, but I guess not?"
> Yes. It's subtle enough that users would have a hard time suspecting it, but the gacha system was definitely tampered with to work in the company's favor.
Once a thief, always a thief. They'd done it once and didn't get caught, so next time they went all out and nearly ran the game into the ground.
"This gives me a headache. Let's back-calculate all the revenue generated from when the code was modified until now and refund it. That's the right thing to do, both morally and from a risk management perspective."
Public opinion was already in the gutter, so it's not like our image could sink any lower.
> The revenue generated is approximately 22 billion won. Should I write up the notice and start processing refunds right away?
"Go ahead. Taking your beating fast is a hundred times better than dragging it out."
The community had only just started calming down after all this time, and now it was about to get flipped upside down again.
I'd had Athena write up the notice and was lurking in the community. I could see anxious users alongside the trolls stirring shit up.
"When are you posting the notice?"
> The notice is ready. I was planning to post it on the hour, but should I put it up now?
"Post it right now. Whether it goes up on the hour or now, the shitstorm's going to be the same either way."
Not long after I finished speaking, the community started heating up.
Hello, this is Black Ridge Capital, the new operator of Lumina Arcana.
First, we bow our heads in sincere apology to all Adventurers who have been deeply troubled by the recent opaque management and payment suspension measures. Upon completion of the acquisition process, we conducted a full investigation of the internal source code and operational data, and we wish to transparently disclose the facts discovered during that process.
First — the issue of probability manipulation.
As a result of the investigation, we discovered that since last winter's update, abnormal logic was implemented that caused the special recruitment (gacha) probabilities to work unfavorably for users in certain intervals.
- Details of the manipulated logic: It has been confirmed that when cumulative payment amounts were high or when a certain number of pulls was exceeded, the internal success probability was inversely adjusted to the user's disadvantage.
- Period in question: From last winter's update until the present.
Such deceptive conduct is a complete abandonment of the fundamental fun and fairness of the game. Although this was carried out under the direction of the previous management, we, as the current owners, offer our sincere apologies to the Adventurers.
...
The notice, which was quite long, included a full refund of all payments made during the period the misconduct had occurred, apology compensation, and preventative measures to ensure it wouldn't happen again.
And just one minute after the notice went up.
Every time I hit refresh, posts in the community started spawning like crazy.
"Whoa... I've been playing since launch, and I've never seen this much firepower."
The period of manipulation was short. If they'd quietly just fixed the source code and covered it up, no one might have ever noticed.
But if I'd done that, I'd be no different from Kim Chi-gon.
"God, it feels amazing to just come clean like this. If we set a precedent like this, other companies might start self-regulating too, right?"
> I don't think it'll go that far... Still, things might get at least a little cleaner.
In the community, there was praise for voluntarily refunding roughly 22 billion won and coming clean, along with users starting to feel that the game was really changing, their expectations pouring out.
"I'll just consider that 22 billion as spending the money I saved by getting Kim Chi-gon's shares at face value anyway. Compared to what I spent on the acquisition over the past few days, it's not even that much."
If creating a good precedent earned me a get-out-of-jail-free card, that was still a net gain.
> Exactly. And I'll send the code modifications to Neo Gate through Black Ridge. The new CEO and executives for Neo Gate have been finalized, so true normalization will be possible soon.
Once the company's executive lineup was finalized, Neo Gate would finally be normalized after all this time.
"Finally, I can see the light at the end of this endless tunnel..."
My head had been cracked open back in the early launch days, and I couldn't quit even after years of suffering — but now, finally, I was about to see daylight.
Everyone else cursed it as a dead game, but only those of us with cracked heads like me stayed behind, struggling to save it. And now, finally, it felt like our efforts were being rewarded.