Everything Begins with a Use Map

Nearly all custom maps did the same thing: a brief rundown of the controls and win conditions.

"What? That's it? Grr."

Doom Pressure rubbed his eyes, but the tiny text on the game screen was just those two lines.

Top? Bot? Lane? Bizarre terms he couldn't make heads or tails of flew around, and Doom Pressure cautiously typed.

"…Grr."

Doom Pressure furrowed his brow. His pride took a hit, but as a newbie to this custom map, he had no choice but to heed advice when he knew nothing.

'Better be fun, or else.'

He couldn't waste his precious time off work.

'Victory's the only thrill.'

Losing for fun was for twisted weirdos.

Among what looked like about 30 hero characters, he eyed the six marked as supports.

"Mother of Stars, Wind Wanderer, Jewel Warrior…?"

He had no clue what they meant. Amid the confusion, a chat popped up.

"Ah, a healer."

That made sense. Anyone who's played an RPG knows what a healer does.

Doom Pressure smoothly selected Mother of Stars.

'Mother of Stars, huh.'

The hero on screen had a sturdy, bluish look. Not a beauty, but she gave off a nurturing mother vibe.

Opening the skill menu revealed three basic skills and one ultimate. He clicked to learn the first: a heal that burned his mana to restore an ally's health and boost defense temporarily.

"Anyway… what now, grr?"

He followed the helpful player. Arriving at the lane, two enemy heroes appeared opposite.

Guess he had to win here.

Fight right away? Kinda exciting, he thought, tossing heals from behind. But level 1 hero skirmishes were just poking—no real damage.

They chipped away safely until minions spawned from the map's corner, shuffling forward. Minions fought and died, granting XP.

'That all?'

Oddly, his ally kept last-hitting the minions himself.

Now it clicked: farm minions for gold and XP, kill enemies.

But then, his lane buddy vanished into the woods while hitting minions.

Doom Pressure felt uneasy but nodded. New game, just adapting to rules was tough enough.

But the moment his ally dipped, the two enemies ganked him slyly.

"Wh-what?! 2v1 is cheating!"

He frantically clicked to flee, but they bashed Mother of Stars mercilessly with clubs.

"You damn cowards! No honor?! Grr!"

But the returning Masked Warrior shredded the field. Doom Pressure could only heal dumbly from behind, watching his ally 1v5 the enemy team.

'Support hero my ass.'

This was just a sidekick gig?

Warm post-game chats scrolled, but Doom Pressure clenched his fist. A bitter taste lingered.

His eyes locked on the ally's hero.

'Masked Warrior.'

That overwhelming power slicing through with a single thin sword!

"Alright, one more game."

Warrior blood boiled. He couldn't end as a powerless lackey. His gaze fixed on Masked Warrior.

"Just one. I'll carry this time."

But that "just one" never ended at one.

"Grr! One more! This time we win for real!"

…It wasn't until the next morning's sun blazed high that Doom Pressure, mesmerized by the hero controls, noticed the dazzling sunlight outside.

"What a nice walk to school."

"Don't you ever sleep, senpai?"

Melody grumbled as she folded the blanket. The desk with her crystal orb was littered with energy drinks.

We'd barely rested after days of nonstop work.

I casually checked user activity on her orb.

My map climbed the custom map popularity charts.

'Damn, it's really blowing up.'

I stared at the private custom maps.

"…It's insane."

Melody rubbed her sleepy eyes in awe.

"Even as a custom map, not the main game, who knew so many would play it."

"…Fun games find their players."

"Gamers have a sixth sense for fun."

I nodded at her words.

'Game balance and terrain.'

I designed units and items in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠detail; Melody handled map editor tweaks, numbers, and coding.

'Even if I know the items…'

I couldn't rip Cancer's Rift's latest items and champs wholesale. Sure, it was a masterpiece from a rip-off famous company, but custom maps had limits.

'Resources, client, engine issues—plus player skill gaps.'

One of my past life's newest champs was memed as "That Long Thing" for its broken stats.

…Skipping the rest; it'd spike my blood pressure.

Drop a hero like that now, and newbie players fumble it. Pros adapt fast, but not everyone. It takes time for the masses to master it.

"Ugh, anyway, Lewis-senpai."

"Yeah?"

She looked tired as she cut to the chase.

"We gotta submit our assignment, right?"

"Yep."

"But we can't submit this."

"True."

I nodded. No matter how popular, a custom map's non-monetizable. Can't even submit it as homework, let alone profit.

'Devs all chase dreams.'

Making god games for players is noble.

"But game dev's gotta make money. Food, rent…"

"Told you, this is just a proof-of-concept. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠We've shown it's fun—now make the real deal for class and cash."

"Right."

Melody trailed off, daunted by full dev ahead.

'Still tons to do.'

Custom client, artist for designs…

'Early build'll be rough…'

Two people? A year wouldn't cut it. Her scared voice echoed.

"Can we really pull this ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠off?"

"Of course."

I gripped her trembling shoulder confidently.

"Didn't you see our map's success?"

"…Yeah."

"Even as a custom map, you whipped it up in days. I trust your skills."

'Better than most pros from my past life?'

Top of game dev dept for a reason. I encouraged her.

"Better than most pro coding slaves—er, pros."

"Hehe…"

She scratched her cheek bashfully.

"But for a real game…"

My cough drew her eyes. Game dev dept valued shipped games over classes.

"We need art. Graphics guy."

"Yeah."

"But it's just us."

"Yeah."

She nodded.

"You handle engine, but graphics? Where?"

"Huh?"

Her face paled. Game dev ain't solo.

'Indie solo's possible, but…'

This was group project scale. Recalling her chased-off teammates, she blanched.

"L-Lewis-senpai… what do we do?"

"School first."

Might snag spare ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠manpower there. Melody trailed me, bowing her head.

"…Sorry I scared everyone off."

"Nah. Scholarship fever does that."

"……."

She glared at my "comfort," but runaways wouldn't return.

We rushed washing up and headed to school. My brow furrowed.

'Seriously, how?'

Even a legendary god game needs basic graphics or no one plays. This life's Lewis Normal was a social wreck—no connections.

Clunk. Heavy heart, I opened the classroom door.

"Eek!"

"Gah!"

Thud! I collided head-on with an unfamiliar girl. Papers she clutched scattered into the air.

"Senpai! You okay?"

Melody's urgent voice, but my eyes glued to the dancing sheets.

'This…'

Risqué bikini armor, bursting swimsuits, tentacles in lewd tangles. Illustrations way more skin than cloth—pure shady ero art.

Amid the flesh feast, lightning struck my brain.

"…Found her. Our art director."