Negotiating with the Dragon
Big slurp!
Linia, president of Cloud Inc., slurped down the coffee I'd ordered for her.
"This coffee really hits the spot."
"...Yeah, it's good."
Getting a free extra cup sure put me in a good mood. But watching Linia casually slurp away without a care in the world felt off somehow.
Why the hell did she come to see me?
To be honest, yeah. In my past life, everyone—every single gamer—agreed that A.S. was humanity's worst plague, a god-tier toxic game. But that was back then. Here and now, A.S. was just a Use Map for Stars' War. It hadn't even had a proper release; it was barely an alpha version with the skeleton slapped together.
At least gotta hit beta before I can upload it to the Cloud platform.
I tilted my head, staring at her, and Linia smiled as she spoke.
"You look a bit suspicious, don't you?"
"Well, yeah."
I answered honestly. Even in this world, just like my past life, dozens—no, thousands—of indie games flooded the market every year. But out of all those, only a tiny fraction ever succeeded.
Success? Hell, even games that could make a living were in the top 10%.
Users went nuts for a handful of masterpieces and solid hits, but 90% of the indie sludge pouring out was straight-up garbage that couldn't even qualify as mediocre. Online service games were no different.
I narrowed my eyes, sizing her up, and she sipped her coffee leisurely while sneaking a glance my way.
That glint in her eyes...
Was she casting some spell? In this modern magitech society, dragons were still the top dogs, packing freakish power outside the norm.
Anyway, Linia—the dragon who also happened to be Cloud Inc.'s president—set her coffee cup down on the table with a clack! and leaned in with a sly vibe.
"Dragons are a race that lives very long lives. Unlike short-lived humans, even longer-lived elves and dwarves who make it 200-300 years pale in comparison—we're talking nearly a millennium."
"...Why bring that up out of nowhere?"
At my baffled question, Linia fixed me with her seductive, gem-like eyes.
"You've probably heard in old tomes how dragons leave their nests to wander and play?"
"Sure."
"And how they hoard piles of treasure in those nests? In modern times, that's been proven true—to other races, anyway."
"Yeah, that's right too."
I gave her a weird look at the sudden dragon species brag, but she grinned proudly.
"Dragons have this instinct, you see."
"What the hell are you getting at?"
She was beating around the bush so much I asked irritably, and Linia went oh snap! with her expression.
"Ahem, I got a bit long-winded there, huh?"
"Very long-wi—er, no, not at all. It was delightful wisdom from a wise elder."
"...I'm not that old, you know?"
Linia shot me a venomous glare on the spot. Truth be told, I was tired, but her pride must've been stung because she kept insisting on her youth.
"I'm one of the youngest dragons out there!"
"So, how old are you, exactly?"
"291."
"......"
Isn't that just a 300-year-old granny?
Spelling it out down to the ones digit screamed age complex hit hard.
Whatever, let it slide.
No point pissing off the head of our platform. Linia's face flushed beet red before she fanned herself cool.
"Anyway, let's skip my age."
"Yeah, not important."
"...It is important."
She nearly flipped out again but calmed down.
"So, why the long-winded story?"
"Dragons live several times longer than other long-lived races, so we're always bored, seeking thrills in our wanderings. And we have this knack for sniffing out anything valuable."
"...So you're saying our game has that kind of value?"
"Exactly."
Linia declared it flat-out.
"I could tell at a glance. This isn't some half-assed indie trash—it's gonna kick up a storm like nothing before!"
"...But is that reason enough for the president to meet me in person?"
"Damn right!"
Linia shot up and grabbed my hand. Her sapphire-blue eyes bored into mine.
"Whoa, why the hand?!"
"A genius who whips up something this epic on the fly? Can't wait to see what insane shit you'll cook up for the next game, and the one after!"
"......"
Her grip tightened, and that intense gaze felt way too heavy. But she hammered it home without letting go.
"That's why I'm snatching you up before some other company does."
"Huh?"
Linia eyed me with classic dragon greed, like a beast spotting rare gems or gold.
"I'm recruiting you straight into Cloud Inc.'s direct subsidiary dev team."
Boom—total bombshell. In her azure pupils, treating me like prime treasure, my stunned twenty-something face reflected crystal clear.
"What do you say? Like my offer?"
* * *
Linia's eyes pierced me sharply. Her face mixed curiosity and raw greed.
...Any reason to turn it down?
Her proposal was too damn reasonable.
Big corp means fat support, fat stacks.
"...What do you think?"
I eyed the eager recruiter and thought it over before speaking.
"Sorry, but I'll pass on the subsidiary team."
"Huh?"
Linia's eyes wavered.
"Wait, why?!"
"...Because I have a game I really want to make."
"What the????"
She stared like I'd lost my mind, but my resolve was rock-solid.
"Sure, joining a big corp sub-team sounds great."
I knew the sweet life better than anyone—past-life big-corp lead director here.
"Unlimited manpower, capital, marketing pushes small devs can only dream of."
"You know all that and still say no?"
Linia narrowed her eyes. Those reptilian slit pupils stabbed at me.
But I had my angle ready.
"...I see games not as mere entertainment, but as art."
"Art?"
Linia blinked like it was nonsense, waiting to hear me out.
"Yep. Sure, lots of folks call games just playthings now."
"......"
Whether past life or this one, the snobbery treating games as kiddie toys lingered. Linia crossed her arms, eyeing me like go on, entertain me.
"But art wasn't always 'art' from the start. Comics, novels, movies—all creative works got shat on before becoming legit. Games are getting shat on now, but someday? They'll be art. I believe it."
"Sophistry."
Linia snorted like it was bullshit.
"The heart of art is creativity and freedom. Tying yourself to a corporate dev team? That crushes both."
Tons of devs only make their dream games after quitting. Sure, if you ask if corp games or indies are better—can't really rank 'em.
All games matter.
"So to protect that freedom and creativity, better to stay indie with our own studio than crawl under a corp umbrella."
After my epic ramble, Linia—maybe convinced?—nodded with a faint smile.
"Fair point. History's full of stuff that endured the hate and went mainstream."
"...As expected from a long-lived race—your historical insight is on point."
She bristled at my 'compliment' and raised her voice.
"Hey, why'd that sneak in another old vibe?!"
"...I never said you were old."
Touchy as hell, she snapped back, but at least she'd bought my excuse. With a sigh, she asked:
"So, no help from Cloud Inc.?"
"Nah, that's not it."
"Huh?"
She gave me a puzzled look, so I pulled out my prepped card.
"Doesn't have to be joining a sub-team."
"Then?"
I grinned and laid it out.
"Investment. Investment."
"Investment?"
Her eyes sharpened at my words.
"So basically... you want a free ride? No corp meddling, but suck up all our cash?"
"Legitimate support for an artist’s creativity!"
She cracked up, covering her mouth at my shameless pitch.
"Hiding wallet-raiding as 'art'? I love it."
"......"
"Fine, that arrogance sells me. I'll watch how your 'art' flips the world. Not as Cloud president—as your first investor."
"Thank you. No regrets, promise."
I bowed and shook her offered hand. Perfect deal sealed.
"But for investment, gotta check equity structure. You set up the corp or gone public?"
"Nah. Still at group project stage—just got a club room."
"......"
My bold reply froze her dragon-president smile into sheer disbelief.