I Want to Quit
I want to quit.
Fourteen years into the game industry after graduating from computer science, I can call myself a successful office worker.
My company is a major corporation. My salary is in the top one percent of office workers. I even rose through the ranks at lightning speed, becoming a legend inside the company.
Everyone has their own definition of success, but compared to that, I feel like I’ve gone above and beyond as a working adult.
However, right now my life isn’t satisfying at all.
“Should I quit?”
“You’re messing with me? I haven’t seen you in forever and you’re still this unlucky.”
My friend, the one I was drinking with, made a face at my complaint.
“Calm down and listen.”
“Yeah. Go ahead.”
He held up an empty soju bottle upside down, as if he’d wait for my nonsense to run out, and I poured out all my worries to him.
“Look at my face.”
“What face? It’s the same as usual.”
“Not the same at all.”
I dug through my phone and showed him the photo from right after college.
“Oh.”
Watching the guy flip between the photo and me, I let out a bitter laugh.
“Yeah. That’s how you used to look, isn’t it? I forgot because it’s been ten years of this same face.”
“Bullshit.”
The bright, handsome young man in the photo was gone. In his place was a gaunt-faced ruin with bloodshot eyes so red they looked painful and dark circles as big as the space under a bed, a hollowed-out cheekbones from losing weight.
“Old age?”
“You think I age faster than other people?”
“Bullshit.”
I was older, sure, but in my mind the biggest factor was lack of sleep. I didn’t even remember when I’d last slept more than five hours a day.
“Then sleep. Take vacation and rest properly.”
“I can’t take vacation.”
“What? Why? Your company’s welfare is well-known, right?”
“Welfare is good. But I can’t use it.”
I don’t know if it was a coincidence or not, but every time I took vacation or fell asleep, something happened.
A fatal bug would pop up, or the server would crash, or a probability manipulation issue would arise. Before I became director I was uncertain, but after the promotion I was sure.
“Without me, the game dies.”
“Even without you, the world keeps turning. That’s narcissistic.”
“No, seriously, it would die.”
Once, I gathered up the courage to take vacation and planned a trip abroad. On the first day of vacation, though, I had to take a taxi straight back from the airport.
‘Why did the crap the previous directors left behind have to explode right then….’
Account deletions and refund requests spiked, and the company’s stock price dropped ten percent in one day. A terrifying day.
Since that incident I became the company’s scapegoat.
If the jinx was that scary, couldn’t I just sleep in the company?
‘Where would I get the time?’
Every single day I received dozens of reports and approval documents.
The planning team asked me to review storylines, the art team asked if the concept art and 3D models were okay, and the programming team begged me to hire more people.
Even just the development department was like that. Adding the business department that nagged me for new business models to drive sales and the QA team that called in reports about bugs I supposedly found, the amount of text I read every day would be more than a normal person could imagine.
I did overtime every day not only because I was scared the jinx would come, but because there was so much work that needed doing.
“Hey. When you’re high up, you get a lot of work. That’s why they pay a lot.”
“Yeah, but…”
That alone wouldn’t have been enough to speak up about.
Recently the stress piling on me had increased…
“Huh? That person?”
“You know that guy?”
“No, it’s not that. He looks like a celebrity.”
“An idol? The man over there?”
“Wait a second.”
The voice from behind me was the cause.
‘I thought this out-of-the-way restaurant would have no one around to notice me…!’
I turned my head to hide my face, but the guy had already spotted me and was striding straight toward me.
“Excuse me… are you the director Jo Yihan?”
I smiled awkwardly at the fan who had come with certainty and turned my head.
“Oh. Yes. Nice to meet you.”
“It really is! Director Jo Yihan! I’m your fan!”
“What? Who are you?”
“I’m the director of Eternal Tail! Last time I was really funny and sent you a video link!”
“Ah! That one!”
The mention of the video made my expression slip for a second.
“Pfft.”
My friend figured out the situation and twisted his face in a desperate attempt to hold back his laughter.
‘Haa… I should have sued that video creator instead of trying to stop him at the company….’
The friend in front of me had sent a video link one day. I had clicked it without suspicion because it was a music video for a popular new singer. And I had witnessed the malice of someone trying to socially bury a human.
“I’m already rice farm~ I’m already all farm~”
“Fuck! I just did everything for you~”
Clearly I had done nothing, yet he was dancing to my voice like it was hilarious. How much of a shock did he really think that was?
Since then, various videos had been made, and I had become a sudden ten-set idol.
“Director! Can I take a photo with you just once? I’m really a fan. I’ve been playing Eternal Tail for over ten years!”
“Ah. Yes.”
I nodded, worried that if I refused here a post titled “Jo Yihan’s personality is real?” would appear in the game community.
“I’ll take it~ One. Two. Three!”
My friend naturally took the photo while claiming credit for the picture.
“Thank you! As expected, Eternal Tail’s greatest director ever! I’ll always support you!”
“Ah. Yes. Thank you for loving our game. I’ll work hard to repay your support.”
After the user who had appeared like a natural disaster left, my friend stared at me with a strange expression.
“What?”
“Yi-yo-ol~”
“Don’t.”
“The director’s ass-dick~”
I didn’t have the energy to get angry and just sighed.
“Haa…”
“Hey. Smile. The opposite of love is indifference. How many users would make a video like that because they love you so much.”
“Because they love me? You know what nickname the users gave me?”
“I know.”
The guy thought for a moment and mentioned the most commonly used one.
“First of all, the money-induction god.”
Saying “god” made it sound serious, but it was a jab at my tendency to gently guide players into spending. Even a fool would sound like a god if you just heard the name.
I had become the core IP director responsible for the company’s sales at a young age not because I was skilled or diligent.
‘That’s basic.’
I had a slightly unusual talent.
In user terms, it was “the ability to sense up to what point users won’t get angry.” I had a natural instinct for planning new business models.
When launching a new business model, precise calculation was required.
I had to consider the types of monetization, the value changes of in-game currencies and items caused by the new model, and especially how to pacify players’ strong resistance to pay-to-win monetization.
That was basic basic, and if I had to consider everything in the game it wasn’t an exaggeration.
If I had just made a business model without thinking and tried to increase sales, the game could collapse like a house of cards.
In that sense, I was the business department’s beloved director. I would take their rough concept for a new business model and, with no effort, complete it beyond expectations and release it.
How was that possible? I didn’t know either. I just looked at it and could sense whether the business model would fail or succeed.
‘Thinking from the user’s perspective?’
Users called me a money devil, but I considered both the company’s perspective and the user’s, and created my own optimal result.
The talent to pull out the best sales without causing players to leave. That was the secret to my salary and promotions.
“And Living Skeleton, Zombie, Anchovy brat, Witch Jo Yihan, and so on?”
“The last one is something you made up.”
“No? I saw it somewhere.”
A new nickname had appeared recently.
My eyes had been especially bloodshot the day I filmed a live broadcast, and apparently that was where the new nickname came from.
“Anyway, the stress isn’t ordinary. Do you feel like you understand why I’m considering quitting now?”
“No?”
“What have you heard?”
“Complaining about having too much work and messing with users because they like it.”
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The friend immediately reached out and stopped me as I grabbed the soju bottle.
“Hey. Hey. Joking. Joking!”
“It’s fine. What are we even talking about?”
I had mustered the courage to confess my worries I hadn’t told anyone since meeting my old friend, and the only things that came back were mockery and teasing.
“You’ve eaten everything? Then stop getting up—”
“I’m not getting up. You still haven’t told me what’s wrong.”
“What?”
“Hey. How many years have we known each other? You don’t think I know you’ve been doing overtime for months, not just a day or two? And that you’ve now accepted being humiliated by AI-generated fake videos? What’s the real reason you want to quit?”
“Um…”
My friend was right.
The fatigue from too much work and the stress from users were just excuses.
That was the real reason I was considering quitting.
I wanted to make games.
A game director saying he wants to quit because he wants to make the game he’s directing might sound weird, but I wanted to make ‘my’ game.
‘Not to maintain someone else’s game, but my game.’
I clearly loved Eternal Tail, the game I directed. How could I not have affection for the game I had developed since I joined?
But Eternal Tail couldn’t be called a game I created from my own head.
‘If I compare it to a child, then a stepchild…?’
No matter how much I loved the stepchild, natural affection for my own child was inevitable. The analogy might not be perfect. There were parents who loved stepchildren like their own children.
‘It’s just the feeling I have.’
Most people who enter the game industry dream of making their own game.
I did too.
From the moment I dreamed of becoming a game developer as a child, I wanted one day to make players cry and laugh with the game I created.
But I hesitated to take on the challenge, making one excuse after another.
My father’s business collapsed, so the family situation wasn’t good. I’ll quit when things improve.
Once I get recognized for my abilities, I might have the chance to transfer to a new game development department. I’ll quit then.
I’ve reached director level, but I’ll quit after I strengthen my position a bit more before trying entrepreneurship.
Even right now, the same thing.
I was talking about thoughts I had inside, scared my friend would tell me to snap out of it, so I was having meaningless conversation.
“Hey. Yi Han-ah.”
“Hm?”
“What are you so scared of? Huh? There’s only one life. Why are you hesitating like this?”
“…”
“If you want to do it, do it. Quit? You said you want to quit. Then quit.”
Looking at my friend who sounded like he was speaking about someone else’s life, I was about to get angry, but he opened his mouth faster.
“I’ve been thinking about it for a while. You watch other people’s eyes too much. It’s your life, not someone else’s. Just quit. And do what you want to do.”
“How do you know what I’m trying to do?”
“I know even if you don’t say it. Do whatever, just don’t regret it later. Don’t run away. Before the army, wasn’t there a woman named Ji-joo? You were scared to confess because you thought she might turn you down—”
“Why are you bringing up that story!”
I had been moved, but hearing my embarrassing past story made heat rise in my head.
And I let out a snicker.
“Fine. Fine. I’ll figure it out myself. Now let’s stop. It’s getting late. I have to go to work tomorrow. I had to make time today because I met you.”
“Bullshit. You’re the only one busy? I’m busy too. Fine, you’ve listened to my worry, so today you disappear.”
I had no reason not to buy him a meal after my friend gave me the clear answer to my swirling thoughts like a hamster wheel.
“Yeah. Today I’ll treat.”
“Oh~ As expected of an eight-digit salary earner~”
I laughed and paid the bill, then left the restaurant.
“I’m going.”
“Yeah. See you next time.”
“Yeah.”
I waved my hand casually and called a taxi.
“Pangyo.”
I told the destination and looked out the window.
‘Yeah. There’s only one life. I should do what I want.’
I had to finish the large update I was preparing and then quit. Quitting right now wasn’t something I could do to the game or my subordinate employees.
‘What should I do after quitting?’
I had been thinking about quitting but never about what came after, so I had no sense. The situation was bleak but not suffocating.
‘I’ll think after I wake up.’
Taking a taxi home, I closed my eyes for a moment, rested, and could think after I woke up.
As I closed my eyes, my mind grew hazy with alcohol and fatigue.
.
.
“Fool. You said once in a lifetime.”
“Did I hear that wrong?”
“No. Just rest comfortably.”
“Yes! Thank you!”
My friend’s words started with a false premise.
‘Life is only once?’
Then what was I now? I had gone back to the time when I was in the army.