Chapter 30
Chapter 30
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Translator: Silver Dragon
Chapter: 30
Chapter Title: Coincidence
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The word "coincidence" (偶然) is formed by combining "짝 우," meaning "pair" or "match," with "마땅할 연," the Hanja characters for "fitting" or "destined."
It carries the profound implication that what ought to happen inevitably pairs with coincidence—suggesting that inevitability and chance are one and the same.
That's why I honestly can't tell right now if the things unfolding around me are mere coincidences... or destiny.
"I can't confirm the CEO's schedule right now. We'll adjust it and get back to you."
It was Monday morning, the start of the week.
Americans don't love Mondays any more than anyone else, so the office should have been its usual sluggish self. Instead, nonstop incoming calls had turned it into a war zone.
What the hell is going on?
The culprit was a TV program that had aired last Friday.
If you asked anyone in 1990s America to name the most famous talk show, they'd all point to one without hesitation.
The Oprah Winfrey Show.
Oprah Winfrey, the Black woman host who would later stir up plenty of controversies—and someone I personally found rather unlikable—undeniably wielded massive influence over American society with her show at this time.
"I met my nephew the other day. This kid who usually just fools around and pulls pranks suddenly starts asking me about farming."
"Farming?"
"Yeah. At first, I thought maybe school had assigned him homework or something, but no. He bragged about having this huge field and growing crops there."
"Oh! How old is your nephew?"
"He's just nine. But there's no farmland near my sister's place, and a nine-year-old couldn't farm anyway, right? So I asked to see his farm, and he drags me to his room."
"Was the farm in there?"
"Yeah, sort of—inside his monitor, to be exact. He's been playing this game called Village Maker lately. It's a farming game."
"A farming game?"
"You have no idea how shocked I was. The kid knew more about crops than I did. He even memorized tree names. I ended up spending the whole weekend farming with him using the keyboard and mouse."
Three days ago—last Friday—the Oprah Winfrey Show featured rising star actor Tom Hancock, sparking a huge buzz.
The conversation started off as typical, light, and casual, just like always.
But one simple question from Oprah—asking Tom what he'd done over the weekend—had thrown Savior into complete chaos.
"Village Maker? The game from that show?"
Even people with no interest in games caught the episode and got curious, sending sales of Village Maker—which had finally stabilized—soaring once more.
It was so intense that AE, who'd pulled all-nighters printing the initial 500,000-copy run right up to launch day, was now screaming at me about having to do it all over again.
Our own office could barely keep up with the flood of interview requests from media outlets.
"Yes, understood. I'll check the CEO's future schedule and call you back."
Emily, handling marketing, hadn't let go of the phone since arriving that morning.
"Are we really heading for a million copies?"
"A million... I honestly have no idea anymore."
In my original timeline, I'd have said a million copies wouldn't happen until late '94 or '95 at the earliest.
A million was the mark of a blockbuster—even consoles only saw a handful like that per year.
Compared to the console market, PC gaming was still tiny, like a drop in the bucket. I figured it'd take another 1-2 years of explosive PC growth before we hit that.
But now? Who knows.
I'd been confident about the first 500,000, expecting steady sales after that.
Never imagined a single mention on the Oprah Winfrey Show would cause this explosion.
Is this the raw power of TV before media fragmentation?
Coming from an era where YouTube and diverse platforms diluted TV's dominance, I'd lost my sense for it.
"And what about the proposals?"
"You mean those?"
"Didn't expect both of them to come knocking. I still can't believe it."
Misfortunes may come in waves, but so does good luck, they say.
Scarlett stared incredulously at the two proposals in her hand.
They were console port offers for Village Maker.
From none other than the twin giants of consoles: Nendo and Seton.
"Honestly, I thought Seton would never approach us because of me, but they couldn't pass up Village Maker, I guess."
"Seton makes sense—they collaborated with us before, excluding you, and Dead Hills RE did well enough."
"But Nendo? Still can't wrap my head around it."
"Yeah."
Nendo.
The emperor of consoles—no, of gaming itself.
When I first heard Nendo had sent us a proposal, my reaction was pure disbelief.
Scammers.
If Emily hadn't verified by phone, I'd have dismissed it outright as a fraud.
"Nendo, of all companies—the ultra-closed-off Nendo—proposing to an American dev, not even Japanese."
Scarlett's shock wasn't overblown.
Nendo was notoriously conservative about games on their hardware.
Devs prized the so-called "golden sticker"—proof of Nendo approval—like it was harder to get than stars from the sky.
This conservatism had pros and cons.
The upside: Games on Nendo consoles were reliable quality. While Seton platforms had hits amid trash, Nendo's were consistently solid.
The downside: Few innovative standouts, plus criticism for overly strict selection.
And infamous anonymous quotes like: "Nendo's royalty demands are outrageous. They're the ones ruining the industry!"
"Nendo's royalty tyranny is legendary. They treat second parties decently, but third parties? Brutal, even from a rival's view."
Parties.
Console makers like Nendo and Seton classify devs as "parties."
First party: The hardware maker itself or its subsidiaries.
They got massive pre-launch ads and full dev support—the core of the company.
Second party: Not subsidiaries, but funded or exclusive contracted devs.
They got good support and lower royalties—every dev's dream.
"Savior turned down Seton's second-party offer back then, though."
"You still holding a grudge?"
"No way. If we'd taken it, we'd be regretting it now."
When we inked the deal with Seton, Scarlett had pitched second-party status for Savior.
Accepting would've locked us into porting Village Maker to Seton—and all future games too.
Ninety percent of devs would've killed for it, but...
Last: Third parties.
Basically everyone else outside second parties.
Free to release on Nendo one day, Seton the next.
Sounds great in theory.
"Reality's a dumpster fire," Scarlett said.
The least desirable spot for devs.
"Seton's 'generous' third-party royalty was 15%. Nendo started at 20%."
"Insane rates."
Nendo's 20% was pure royalty—after distribution margins.
Plus separate ROM cartridge fees. Third parties needed 50,000+ sales to break even; 100,000 barely scraped profit.
"Explains why PC dev studios are booming lately."
"Waffle and Minisoft don't charge royalties for games on their PCs—they practically beg you to release."
No wonder U.S. and European devs eyed PCs over consoles.
That was my reason for choosing PC, despite the smaller market.
"Nendo offering Savior second-party status... Whatever you decide, I'll back it."
The dream opportunity every dev craved had landed at Savior's door.
These weren't mere port requests for Village Maker.
Both wanted Savior as their second party.
"Chi-chi, you're really going?"
"Yeah."
In the Berkeley College of Music's Digital Music Club room, a farewell party was in full swing.
The name "Digital Music Club" felt laughable amid the sea of empty liquor bottles.
Club president Jane had announced her leave of absence today, turning it into a boozy send-off.
"But seriously, what did that Korean guy say to make you drop out and join his company?"
"More shocking that a company wants to hire Chi-chi at all. Gang recruitment would've been more believable."
As club members teased and questioned her, Jane had to respond.
"He made me a promise."
"What?"
"That he'd make a game like nothing I'd ever seen—and put my name on it."
Jane recalled Huck's parting words as he left.
'Savior's next game will be something entirely new to you. I guarantee it—if your music isn't part of it, you'll regret it forever.'
Ever since hearing that, her mind had been consumed by thoughts of that game.
After much deliberation, Jane chose Savior.
She couldn't bear not seeing that confident new game with her own eyes—or she'd regret it, just as he'd said.