Studio Glory and Presentation Panic
Aigoo! Thanks to Chairman Linia's full-throated support from Cloud Inc., we managed to rent out an entire floor of a small building.
It was a few days after we'd sealed the investment deal with her.
"Whoa! Is this our building?"
Lumine Primal started poking around the interior like a kid in a candy store the moment we stepped inside.
'The inside is honestly pretty ordinary.'
We'd rented just the third floor of a five-story building—nothing fancy. But for a tiny four-person indie dev team, the space was ridiculously generous. Plenty of rooms for individual workstations, tools we could actually use, and then some.
The team had been crammed into their dingy personal apartments or cheap rentals up until now, hacking away at prototypes in makeshift setups. The idea of a real studio hit them like a revelation. They were wandering around, wide-eyed and giddy.
Suddenly, Linia—the one who'd hooked us up with the place—turned to us with a sly smile.
"So, what do you think? Plenty of room for a little dev team, right?"
"More than plenty—it's overkill."
Finally, we could work in one space. Emailing assets back and forth had been a nightmare: miscommunications, glacial progress, constant headaches.
'And most importantly, with everyone scattered in their own rooms, I couldn't keep real-time tabs on whether these slaves were slacking off.'
The three behind me shuddered in unison, but I brushed it off as nothing.
Linia flashed a satisfied grin and dropped a gentle reminder.
"Well then, I'm looking forward to seeing what masterpiece comes out of this studio next."
"You bet. It'll exceed expectations."
'A.S. is a god-tier game laced with venom deadlier than radiation, after all.'
"Alright, now that we've all got our own workspaces, grab your gear and come back."
"...Yes, sir."
Lumine and Hafne mumbled in noticeably gloomier tones than before as they headed off to pack. Melody Bringlight was about to leave for her own tools when she paused and called out to me.
"Um, Senior Lewis."
"Yeah?"
"Just so you remember... this project we're making? It's technically a 'group assignment,' due to Professor next week."
"......Got it."
I shot her a sour look. Her eyes wavered slightly.
'Truth be told, between dodging big-corp meetings and setting up the studio, I'd totally blanked on that group project bullshit....'
Of course, acing the group project and padding our GPAs would be nice. Even if it didn't help our real skills, good grades just feel good!
'And the scholarships pay the bills!'
I mulled it over, staring back at Melody's glare, then spoke up.
'Real talk: in this industry, GPA and pedigree aren't make-or-break.'
Pedigree? Sure, it's a plus. Hell, across any field—not just games—top-school grads get a leg up. It's physics.
'GPA's the same deal.'
High grades prove you're diligent. Brushing them off is just the usual excuse from slackers. At minimum, it's a certificate of basic responsibility.
"Don't sweat it! Everything'll work out."
"...Really?"
I gave her an encouraging nod, her eyes full of desperate hope.
"Even if we tank—"
"Senior, I don't wanna hear the rest."
She cut me off cold. I cleared my throat and pressed on.
"Anyway, there's a famous truth in the game industry."
"What truth?"
"GPA proves diligence, sure—but here, one thing trumps it: how many real games have you shipped to market?'"
Like how in cooking, restaurant mileage beats certifications, game dev is brutal. They value folks who've actually launched games and faced players over ivory-tower grads with perfect scores.
Elite schools, pedigrees, high GPAs—they're all window dressing against actual sales figures in this cutthroat world.
"......Senior."
Melody scowled, shooting me a betrayed glare. Facts hurt, especially for a scholarship-or-bust top student.
"But seriously, no worries."
I patted the Crystal Orb holding our build and grinned.
"This legendary shit-god game of ours? It'll wrench an A+ from the prof, no question!"
Stepping into the game dev department classroom, I spotted the usual zombie horde of students with their signature corpse-pale faces.
'Ah, that familiar dev stench.'
Deep dark circles, unfocused eyes. Our undergrad aspiring devs were deep in the industry's sacred rite: all-nighters and overtime.
Groups clustered, chatting in little huddles. Two team leads shrugged it off casually.
"Yo, how'd your team's game turn out?"
"Trash fire."
"Eh, figures."
"What? You picking a fight?"
Undergrads sniping and posturing—par for the course. Devs are notoriously socially stunted; squabbles are inevitable.
But even among them, one topic stood out, buzzing hot.
"Dude, you play A.S. yet?"
"Hell yeah. It's blowing up. No clue who made it."
"Some hobbyist?"
>"Whoever it is, total genius. I couldn't dream up something that wild."
"Same. Wish I'd made something like that."
The moment Melody and I walked in, someone piped up.
"Well, if it isn't you two."
Pink-haired classmate, cat tail swishing behind her hips. That faint beastkin fur scent tickled my nose. I squinted, racking my brain.
'Name again...?'
"Pink Salt, right?"
"...It's Vermilla Mint! Not even close!"
"Gotcha, Pink Salt."
Her face clicked now.
"Our department's second-place star."
"Kyaaah!"
She yowled like a cat with its tail stepped on. Melody shot her a dirty look—clearly not thrilled about runner-up stealing her rival spotlight.
'Why's she over here, though?'
I gave her a puzzled glance, and Vermilla puffed up with smug confidence.
"Heard your teammates bailed?"
"Yeah, something like that."
'Oh, she doesn't know we snagged Lumine and Hafne for a full four-man squad.'
I smirked inwardly. Melody jabbed my shoulder uncomfortably.
"Senior, ignore her."
"Yup."
Figuring she'd spew more nonsense, we blew her off and grabbed empty seats. But the catgirl darted in front, freaking out.
"Hey, I wasn't done!"
"Spit it out, Pink Salt."
I eyed her boredly. She planted hands on hips and crowed triumphantly.
"I'm top of the class this semester! Scholarship's mine!"
"...Sure, sure."
Melody bristled, pride stung.
"Senior!"
"What?"
I cupped an ear at her yell.
"The scholarship's mine!"
"...It's not that big a deal."
"It is!"
She gnashed her teeth, desperate. Seemed like dire straits.
'Come to think of it...'
Melody had been top dog—and scholarship queen—every semester. Money shouldn't be an issue, right?
'Guess I've been too hands-off with the team.'
We'd all been heads-down on tasks; overlooked the personal stuff.
Vermilla eyed our Crystal Orb with the alpha build, scoffing.
"This your team's game?"
"Yep."
Short answer. She snorted, all high-and-mighty.
"Figures. Without a full team, even pros churn out junk like this."
"And what'd you make?"
Irritated, I shot back. She beamed, hoisting her Crystal Orb high. Some gal-heavy game flickered on screen.
"This bad boy's a masterpiece."
"What's it do?"
"My otaku dreams, ruthless monetization, perfect gameplay—the pinnacle!"
"Lemme see."
"Don't get jealous!"
She handed it over. I fiddled around, clocking it quick.
'Beastkin gals everywhere.'
Bikini-armored warriors, robes teasing curves on mages. Obvious.
"Just your standard waifu gacha!"
"Kyah!"
She bristled tail-stiff, snatching it back.
"N-no! It's not some basic gacha!"
"...Then what?"
"It's......!"
She bit her lip, perked her cat ears, then launched into bullshit with zero shame.
"A cosmic subculture masterpiece that preys on every otaku's dark desires, endless affection, and vicious greed to crack wallets wide open!"
"......"
"......"
Melody and I sighed in sync.
'Classic, top-tier lickspittle dev mindset.'
Not a bad one... but why are ero-gacha devs so brazenly sleazy? Wanted to smack her, but nah.
Dr-r-ruck!
The classroom door slid open. Vermilla bolted to her seat like the cat she was.
'Professor Georg.'
Our game dev prof. Dark circles heavy under his eyes, he scanned us and apologized.
"This is on me as your professor. No excuse for pulling an all-nighter on some hot new game and showing up a minute late. Total lapse."
He rubbed his hollow eyes. Chills hit me.
'...Please tell me the prof didn't pull that all-nighter on our game.'
At the podium, Professor Georg swept the room, checked his watch.
"Alright, class."
He cleared his throat a few times, then boomed sternly.
"Not much time for demos and explanations, so let's kick off the group project presentations—team by team."