Chapter 157
"But I can do it? Basically before we graduate. Even if I take a year off, we're aiming for release within four years, so no need to feel burdened. It's not something we can pull off just among ourselves anyway."
"...Yeah, probably."
Of course, Doyun-hyung was laying the groundwork at an absurdly fast pace, but since we'd settled on a mobile gacha RPG, we couldn't skip online elements. Sure, there were plenty of successful single-player package or mobile gacha RPGs out there. But the biggest driver of people's collecting urges? Comparison with others.
Stuff like cherishing an obscure character no one else uses and raising it diligently, or the thrill of pulling a hyper-popular one in a gacha—none of that hits without reactions from other players. That's why rankings, PvP, and such are staples in gacha RPGs. Same reason game communities thrive on bragging, comparisons, and gacha luck.
It could backfire, sure, but those elements undeniably fuel a game's success. Especially since Doyun-hyung was planning to turn this into a company—we had to think about revenue streams. So unless it was a package game, we'd need something without a fixed end, open to endless updates.
"The world will obviously be based on Astasia, but we can't just end it with defeating the Demon King like we did. We need plans for phases two, three, and beyond."
"Because of the main story?"
"Yeah. Gacha RPGs branch into late-game content like raids or PvP, but without a main storyline to progress, players drop off hard."
Everyone nodded at Doyun-hyung's words—he had the most overwhelming game knowledge among us. Even Lee Seo-yeon, who'd been quiet, chimed in.
"I've tried a bunch of popular gacha games lately? Like four of them. But once the easy goals everyone can hit are gone, interest fades for sure. PvP and raids are mostly for veterans anyway."
"Exactly. Unlike that stuff, the main story has to be accessible to everyone at first. So we'll make clearing it a bit challenging."
"Sounds good. Turn-based games get boring if they're too easy."
Lee Seo-yeon was handling our most crucial role—funding—but she was clearly pondering other ways to help too. Especially with her love life on the line over there.
Yoo Seol-ah, who'd been listening quietly, asked out of pure curiosity.
"...How much did you spend, by the way?"
"Around 300 per game? Just to sample them."
"......"
Four games meant over ten million won just for tastes. Seol-ah let out a dry chuckle, though she'd half-expected it.
"Your idea of 'sampling' includes endgame content, right?"
"Yeah. Kept at it in my spare time."
The club had only been around a month-plus, but with spending like that, reaching endgame wasn't impossible.
"Hearing oppa explain it makes it sound super fun, though. Other turn-based games didn't even have proper positioning—it felt more like auto-farming than combat. I just ran auto-battles later on."
"Good to hear. We'll have auto-battle since it's mobile, but we'll crank up the strategy weight way higher than others. Clearable with brains even if specs suck, or wipe if you slack despite good specs."
As someone who'd always loved chess, board games, and strategy titles, I was already hyped just watching the sample gameplay. But my tastes alone wouldn't make the game succeed. Since I genuinely wanted it to, I asked Doyun-hyung his take.
"What about the entry barrier? I love brain-teasers, but those players skew toward PC packages over mobile."
He answered without hesitation, clearly having thought it through.
"True, mobile users prefer easy and idle stuff—that's why idle games blow up. But I see gacha differently."
Somehow he'd prepped this too—the shared screen now showed clear videos of main stories from trending gacha RPGs.
"Modern gachas vary in style, but difficulties have spiked compared to the old days. And they still sell."
"Yeah, new releases feel tougher. Everyone watches guides like crazy."
"Reasons vary, but if players love a game, they'll grind no matter the difficulty. Gacha hooks deep—tons of attachment, hence the fanworks explosion."
"And that love? 99% comes from character affection. So no issue there. We'll base it on Seol-ah's illustrations anyway."
Everyone but one nodded in agreement. If subculture game love stems from characters, character love comes from illustrations. Yukinyang herself blushed a bit—her follower growth wasn't slowing; it was exploding.
"...Don't hype me up like that, it's embarrassing...?"
"Followers up 5K a day lately, right?"
"...Well, yeah, but that's just luck from all the shares..."
True to form, she downplayed the praise humbly, but everyone else acknowledged it. When we learned Seol-ah was Yukinyang, she had just over 100K followers. Now she was closing in on 400K—the growth was steep. Top quality was key, but elite illustrators sharing her work nonstop helped. Her style had mass appeal yet stood out uniquely, drawing eyes. Even million-follower overseas artists shared her stuff, fueling the surge.
The star of the talk had a faint blush creeping into view by the monitor. She bragged plenty usually, but got like this every time.
"I think promo with Seol-ah's art will draw crowds for sure, and I'll guarantee the gameplay keeps them. I stand by my word."
Anyone else saying that might lose cred, but not Doyun-hyung. Three years together taught me: he only showed confidence when certain. Otherwise, he'd shoot down ideas sharply.
"Rising issue now: art manpower shortage. Even with Seol-ah's speed, she can't solo it."
"...Even minimized, it takes time..."
"Games aren't just static art either. Live2D or 3D means double the hours once characters move. I watched dev videos—Live2D for subculture games starts with dotting connection points so densely you can't see the character, all pixel-perfect."
"Real humans move naturally, but a few seconds of character motion takes all-nighters."
But Seol-ah, listening quietly, dropped a curveball.
"...But I can make them move for real?"
No one got it instantly. As silence stretched, she explained.
"Main screen keeps illustration proportions, battle uses SD characters, right? Wide maps and all. But both are doable in reality."
Her confident tone sparked a memory: Seol-ah crafting tiny dolls for dungeon scouting, eyes red as she shared their vision to control them.
"Inpung Dolls can handle both. Oh, lemme show you."
She flipped on the call app's camera, angling down to her desk. No complex chant—just easy magic—and a 2-head tall doll, featureless, popped up by her keyboard. Like a figurine.
"Movement's basic for now, but fixable."
A magic circle enveloped it; the still doll started mimicking her moves perfectly. Even the punch motion matched.
"I'll act it out live, then chroma key or post-edit the footage. Way faster than Live2D, right? I know a bit about that stuff—speed's no contest."
With Doyun-hyung still silent, her voice shrank, confidence waning.
"...If not, no biggie. I'll find another way..."
"Seol-ah, you should be our club president for real."
His voice finally rang out, brimming with gratitude.