Transmigrated into an R-19 Cheat Mode Strategy Game

For me, strategy simulation games have always been that stage. If I had to explain how I first got seriously into strategy simulations, it wasn't exactly a dynamic encounter. I liked games, but my finger dexterity was so garbage that I started playing them as a form of escape. Then I got completely hooked.

The overwhelming catharsis that comes when you fully engage your strategic brain in a genre that rewards it, the sense of heavy responsibility and romance that comes from leading a massive community and building a nation—someone like me, who had never even been class president in thirty years of life, could experience all of that. Of course, no matter how great the game content is, if the player lacks talent, all that's left is stress. But while I, Geum Taeyang, might be a washed-up loser in reality, in games I possessed outstanding political intuition and the temperament of a true gambler, so that never happened to me.

Outstanding talent shines even brighter when shown off to others. For years, I had been active in the Strategy Simulation Gallery under the nickname NTLExpert, which fit my real name perfectly. Before long, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠almost every mention of me was filled with embarrassing praise.

Of course, simply being good at clearing games wouldn't have earned me this kind of named status. After digging deep into one genre for so long, I naturally developed genuine affection for it, so I poured my heart into writing strategy game reviews. The high-quality content I created gradually created a butterfly effect, and eventually I found myself participating as a main tester for new strategy simulation game betas, receiving decent pay while confidently showcasing my presence.

However, I had one ironclad rule: I would never beg anyone on the stage where I expressed my ego. So whenever I wrote reviews, I never engaged in false hype. As a result, I naturally ended up connected with new or mid-sized game companies rather than big corporations that threw money around.

Among them was Luciena, a game development company that had just emailed me about their new title, Isekai Conquest Chronicle. Luciena was a truly unheard-of, third-rate developer. Still, they said they'd definitely pay if I helped with the beta test. In that case, why not? But I had zero expectations for the game's quality. I simply trusted my own perverted omnivorous taste when it came to strategy simulation games.

'Huh? Is this really a third-rate company's tech?'

It was an absolute masterpiece. After playing Isekai Conquest Chronicle, I was so hooked it was driving me insane. The overall premise was exactly as the title suggested: a protagonist possessed into another world rushing toward becoming the ruler who unifies the land. The central continent of this other world, Pieta, had multiple nations, each with their own stories and modes, allowing players to enjoy not only world conquest but also the thrill of detailed character growth.

'Is this level of graphics not overkill for a third-rate company's strategy sim? As someone who values visuals, I'm grateful though.'

Moreover, it offered an incredibly diverse range of modes. For example, there was a mode filled with queens and female warriors. Judging by the graphic quality, the main developer must have been genuinely passionate about that mode.

Because there were so many aspects I loved, I put every other game on hold and poured 200% of my focus, enthusiastic play manners, and feedback into Isekai Conquest Chronicle. Staying up for days on end ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was standard, and through more than two months of shut-in life, I thoroughly explored both the parts the developers intended and the parts they hadn't even considered. When something didn't satisfy me, I delivered stern scoldings that bordered on abuse.

What surprised me during that time was that instead of showing discomfort at my abusive feedback, the main developer personally reached out to form an active partnership and accommodated almost all of my demands.

'This company is going to make it big. Usually after beta testing ends, they act like they've had enough of me and never contact me again.'

I take pride in my feedback. Quite a few released games have received great responses after incorporating Geum Taeyang-style feedback. Yet every development company that commissioned me for main beta testing had gone completely silent after the work was done. I understand why. Good medicine tastes bitter, after all. How many big shots can smile through that?

But roughly a month later, the main developer of Isekai Conquest Chronicle sent an email that began with pleasant words, making me feel that the future of the third-rate company Luciena was truly bright.

The atmosphere was warm, but I thought the actual substance would be lacking, so I casually continued reading the email. What followed next made my face practically slam into the monitor.

'Oh... the Mohican Tribe World Conquest Mode?'

The main developer, who had accepted almost everything else, had shown only a lukewarm reaction to one particular piece of content: my request to allow world conquest as the Mohican Tribe, a barbarian race living in the southern region of the continent. Among the many barbarian tribes in the game, the Mohican Tribe was destined to retire early in almost every conquest mode. Every time I saw that, I thought they deserved a chance too. I felt the tribe had plenty of charm in many ways, so I figured the main developer would agree without issue. Instead, I got a difficult response.

'What changed his mind? He was so firm before.'

When I asked for the reason, the main developer said it was so absurd that it could cause the game world to collapse. But come on, they already made an absurd beautiful-girl mode, so what the hell? What could possibly be an impossible scenario in a fantasy game to begin with? Still, the main developer was stubborn, and since this was someone who had usually accommodated my requests, I brought it up a few times before quietly dropping it. Then, a month later, I received sudden news that they had accepted it.

With strong doubts, I carefully read the rest of the email and realized that the main developer of Isekai Conquest Chronicle was truly a promising talent.

'Yeah. This person wasn't just making games to make money. He had tremendous pride in Isekai Conquest Chronicle. That's why I didn't push any further, but in the end, people with sincere convictions connect with each other.'

Isn't the difficulty the players' problem, and if the content looks fun, you should just go for it? I had wanted to say that, but worried the mood would turn sour, so I wrapped it in scholarly language and sent a long email. Unexpectedly, that emotional roundabout criticism seemed to have worked well.

'Huh? What's this about now?'

Feeling quite moved, I read further, expecting the main developer to ask me to participate in the beta test for the newly added mode. If so, shouldn't I get additional pay? But what caught my eye was an even more audacious and provocative statement.

The R-19 mode—meaning a mode where men and women strip naked and pleasure each other using their genitals—was being installed!

As proof, the email included illustrations of characters from Isekai Conquest Chronicle with considerable exposure, though not full nudity.

'Honestly, I only demanded that as a form of abuse. They're actually giving it to me?'

I was flustered. The joy of having my request fulfilled was overshadowed by embarrassment. Why? Because I hadn't actually asked for the R-19 mode with serious intent. It was more like marking territory, leaving a footprint. After diligently participating in beta tests for countless third-rate game companies, I had thrown tantrums demanding they add R-19 modes, venting all the pent-up frustration accumulated in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠my mind and body over two months. That was probably the main reason other game companies never replied further. Yet the main developer and Luciena had fully accepted my wild demands.

'Oh... If that's the case, I get it. He really is going to be a big-shot developer.'

I had been suspicious of their motives. It was a scary world, after all. Were they dangling this provocative bait to trap me into something shady? But soon I found myself deeply reflecting on having doubted the main developer.

The Mohican Tribe were barbarians, literally savages. Their population wasn't large to begin with, and their level of civilization was significantly lower than other kingdoms or empires. So the main developer's claim that a Mohican-centered conquest story lacked realism had some merit. However, we have seen countless times in human history how the appearance of an overwhelming absolute being dynamically shifts the world's hegemony. The Mohican Tribe's growth needed to capture that concept, and if so, shouldn't an extremely barbarian-like hero be created? The R-19 mode was content that perfectly suited that purpose.

'Whoa... They made all these additional modes in just a month? Did they rush it?'

The main developer poured out creative desire to a degree that made me wonder how he had ever refused the Mohican Tribe World Conquest Mode in the first place. Making the R-19 mode must have been tough enough, yet he also created an expansion mode within a month? It seemed like either they had worked their staff to the bone without mercy or they had rushed it out.

'Of course I'll participate!'

Thus, the final line of the email contained the main developer's practical request for me to beta test their game once again.

I didn't hesitate and clicked the download button. To properly enjoy the R-19 mode, I replaced the tissue on my computer desk—which was almost used up—with a fresh one.

"95 percent! 96 percent! 97 percent!"

After that, with my heart pounding in anticipation, I muttered the continuously updating download percentage like a madman and cheered it on.

'100 percent!'

And the moment the download reached 100 percent—

—Flaaaaaash!!!

"Ugh!!!"

Struck by the burst of light from the monitor, I spectacularly passed out.