Daniel Johnson
Daniel Johnson.
Daniel Johnson.
Park Hee-jun, whose name he had forgotten after being adopted.
He liked Jo Yihan quite a bit.
It had been ages since anyone had praised a song he had actually written.
As he smiled cheerfully on his way home, the image of that senior songwriter who called Jo Yihan’s tracks garbage made him curse out loud. pGT>“Son of a bitch.”
“Hey, your songs are fucking garbage, man. You know, you shouldn’t write it like that. You gotta have some rizz. You need real rizz.”
“You’re hopeless. Just go to America already. If you’re gonna keep screwing up no matter how much I teach you, why even bother being under me? Get out, just go.”
“Ugh. Poor bastard. I’ll pay you ten thousand won per track. Even if the songs are garbage, you tried, so I’m giving you the money. Who else would buy tracks they can’t even sell? Be grateful.”
Classic gaslighting.
Even the senior’s ears found Daniel’s songs decent, but he kept ramping up the criticism just to steal the kid’s talent for himself.
Daniel’s heart slowly eroded away like rock worn down by wind.
‘That bastard.’
At first he thought his songs couldn’t possibly be that bad, that the senior’s ears were just off.
But when everyone in the studio agreed the tracks sucked, self-doubt started creeping in.
Was my song really that bad?
Not one person, but an entire room of people saying it sucked?
Was I just out of touch because I grew up in America?
Yet suddenly his confidence roared back.
‘Nah, there’s no way I can’t write songs.’
The senior and his interns were pros. pGT>It didn’t matter that Jo Yihan was a beginner.
He just needed an outside spark to reignite the dying fire of confidence in his tracks.
‘Background music? First time, but I can do it.’ pGT>The expectant look in Jo Yihan’s eyes still burned vividly in his memory. pGT>Certainly he had seen that spark in Daniel’s portfolio.
He refused to watch that gaze turn to disappointment.
‘Music is music.’
The methods differed, but the core principle never changed: it had to stir human emotion.
“Dot graphics, huh? 8-bit suits it perfectly.”
He just had to make the retro feel feel real and not cheesy.
He rearranged 8-bit the way he knew best.
The 1-stage background in the proposal was a city, one being invaded and destroyed by alien lifeforms beyond the gate.
“Things are dire. The city is collapsing and people are still standing around. That’s depressing.”
But hope still lingered.
“The protagonist, I mean the character, has to be a hero. The symbol of hope.”
He had to believe the hero would win.
Inside all that tension, he needed to plant the melody of hope.
Daniel’s head filled with a melody line.
“There it is.”
Daniel poured his soul into the MIDI sheet music.
And before midnight he sent it to Jo Yihan by email.
To: Jo Yihan.
Hey, Jo Yihan. This is the sample. Give it a listen.
*
“Man, I can’t believe this guy exists.”
Only twelve hours after they parted ways, the email arrived and Daniel’s jaw dropped.
‘It was supposed to take days.’
He opened the attached audio file, stunned by how fast it arrived.
“8-bit.”
Exactly the vibe he had wanted.
The more he listened, the more he was blown away.
“Whoa. If you can pull off something this good, you should be on Billboard number one.”
The 8-bit retro soul was alive and kicking, yet somehow it still felt fresh in 2026.
‘Violin on the kick?’
That long, elegant violin harmony layered over the choppy 8-bit made the whole track explode with depth.
There was just one problem.
‘It works for the stage, but… not for boss fights.’
The 1-stage boss was the general of the alien army invading the modern world. pGT>He needed a BGM that was even more urgent when that massive creature dropped from the sky.
To: Daniel.
I listened. It was more than I imagined.
Especially the violin on 8-bit.
Even I, a normal person, can’t believe that combo.
Thanks to you, I can flesh out the 1-stage visuals I was picturing even better. pGT>But for the boss fight, the sound needs to feel even more tense. pGT>Maybe add viola, which sits lower? pGT>If you think it’s trash, just ignore me. pGT>Honestly, I’d love to use the current version for regular monsters and the reworked one for bosses. pGT>But the dev budget is tight, so that’s tough. pGT>And the contract fee… I was going to settle on 500,000 won after a lot of thought. pGT>How does that sound?
Daniel sent the email. pGT>“How long is this one gonna take…”
Sending tracks late was normal, but delivering them early was completely new. pGT>It threw him off balance. pGT>He figured it would take a bit longer, so he threw himself back into his own work.
“Hmph. Still a little bland. Gotta add more detail.”
Dot graphics looked easy. pGT>Compared to high-poly, it really was. pGT>But pixel art’s lifeblood was detail.
One pixel could make a character breathe. pGT>One pixel could change the mood. pGT>He kept erasing and adding pixels. pGT>The incoming-mail notification popped up in the corner of the screen.
“Already? Does this guy ever sleep?” pGT>It was 3 a.m. now. pGT>Daniel was the same way, but the kid’s insanity still caught him off guard. pGT>To: Jo Yihan. pGT>I did exactly what you said. pGT>Got a good feel for it? pGT>You’ve got real composer talent, lol. pGT>And I want to use both the old and new versions. pGT>You said the money was tight, right? pGT>What’s the issue? pGT>Just use it. pGT>I’m only asking for one track’s worth. pGT>If you feel uncomfortable, I have another option. pGT>Skip the fee. pGT>In exchange, put me on your project. pGT>Employee or equity, doesn’t matter. pGT>You said cash is tight. pGT>Save what you can. pGT>Track value per song isn’t cheap, right? pGT>Making me part of the project would be cheaper. pGT>My composing speed is insane right now, lol. pGT>Honestly, I don’t know if the game will succeed or fail. pGT>But I want to go through both with you. pGT>No matter how you feel about it, having my music be the first to hit the world in your game means a lot to me. pGT>Think about it and reply.
“Hmph.” pGT>Asking for equity instead of track fees…
What was the real win here?
He couldn’t decide how much monthly salary to offer, but fixed monthly expenses for the entire dev period sounded awful. pGT>But track fees weren’t cheap either. pGT>After weighing both, Daniel joining the project looked cheaper.
‘Assuming he joins, equity…’
He was betting on a strong card combo. pGT>But he had no idea how the game’s success would play out. pGT>He knew mobile was growing, knew casual would dominate, yet even he couldn’t predict if this one would. pGT>‘Even a hedgehog loves its own kids.’ pGT>This was his game. pGT>Objectively, no one would see it the same. pGT>Even if he tried to be neutral, his heart was already swaying.
It hurt like hell. pGT>But if the game died, equity would be pure profit. pGT>It would just be scraps anyway. pGT>Success, though… that was a different story.
“Yeah. Let’s go with equity.”
After thinking it through, he decided on equity.
Long-term, it beat cold cash.
‘A songwriter who’ll be on Billboard charts often, and a background composer who can actually make music… tying him in deeper than a one-off deal.’ pGT>To: Daniel.
Dot Hero, I mean our game… whether it succeeds or fails, asking for equity is a little shocking.
What am I supposed to believe? pGT>Haha. pGT>But you have nothing to worry about. pGT>I’m holding an ace in the hole. pGT>Self-praise, but I really do have a strong shot.
“I’m thinking 15% equity.”
Even a little research in the industry would tell you this is extremely generous.
Daniel, you said you’d invest your time in my game even though you know nothing about it. pGT>I’m investing in your talent. pGT>Let’s make success together.
Take your time and reply.
Exactly one minute later, the reply came. pGT>To: Jo Yihan. pGT>Deal.
Sound expert added to the Dot Hero project.
*
A cramped basement studio reeking of sweat. pGT>Daniel waited impatiently for Jo Yihan’s verdict.
“How is it?”
“Hmph.”
“Jo Yihan, what now?!”
“This isn’t funky enough. Let’s develop it more.”
“Shit! Again?!”
Three months after Daniel joined, it was mid-August.
“And here, when the boss monster appears, I want the sound heavier. pGT>Too light? That big thing drops from the sky and all I get is ‘boom.’ Shouldn’t it be ‘wham’?”
“Same, but I can’t figure out how to make it heavy. pGT>I’m not a poly-artist!”
“Daniel, don’t compromise. pGT>Compromise and art dies. pGT>That’s always been your line. pGT>Isn’t poly-art not art, just thinking?”
“Shit! Let me think. pGT>Goddamn, if I had money I’d drop a ten-ton weight from the sky and record that.”
“That’s not poly-art, dumbass. pGT>Who else would even attempt it?”
What started as just BGM work had slowly expanded. pGT>Now Daniel was handling realistic, living sound effects for character swings and hits. pGT>He had originally planned to just use electronic sounds. pGT>But Daniel’s talent in that area surprised him.
“Um… pGT>Hey, Jo Yihan. pGT>Why the sad face again? pGT>Wanna try some ginseng?”
“The hit sound doesn’t feel right.”
“Hit sound? pGT>Realistic sack-of-flour sound when you slap a rice sack? pGT>I can record it.”
“Really? pGT>Let’s try.”
Daniel’s workload had exploded.
‘You lured me in.’
Even a future Billboard composer was different. pGT>Poly-art demanded not just music knowledge but raw sound intuition and imagination. pGT>Domestic studios that actually did it were rare.
“Almost done. pGT>Just push a little harder.”
“Okay, boss. pGT>I don’t play games much, but I get the feeling this will succeed as it finishes.”
“A gaming newbie feels that way? pGT>That’s good. pGT>Casual games are supposed to be intuitive. pGT>You know, ‘Oh, this is how you do it’ the moment you pick it up. pGT>Actually, casual is kind of vague as a genre.”
“Fuck. pGT>If you’re gonna lecture me on games again, I’m out.”
Late nights in the basement studio made the mouth dry out.
Every time Daniel complained, Jo Yihan gave him a crash course on game development. pGT>He tried to warn him off, but Jo Yihan just kept talking.
‘Useful and entertaining information…’
Daniel never imagined someone would hate hearing the history of human entertainment starting from the Senet board game played by ancient Egyptians five thousand years ago.
How weird. pGT>Even ancient people played games.
The human genome had to be hardwired for recreation.
Daniel wanted to stop listening.
Jo Yihan kept going.
“Jo Yihan! The game crashed again! Memory leak?”
“Shit! Again?
What now? pGT>Did the new item cause a collision?” pGT>As completion neared, unexpected bugs haunted him.
“Hey… Jo Yihan… how much longer do I have to do QA…? pGT>At first it was fun, but now every time I look at the screen I want to puke. pGT>I’ve tested it a thousand times.”
“Until no bugs show up.”
“Shit… what the hell is the bug? pGT>It’s like mold. pGT>It wasn’t there and then suddenly it is. pGT>Is the bug the mold?”
“That’s the essence of a bug. pGT>Try programming and you’ll see.
Sometimes the absence is scarier.”
Time passed.
Early October. pGT>The game was finished.