Chapter 178
Translator: crow
Chapter Title: Side Story - Fear Comes from Ignorance
“That you know? Fear comes from ignorance.”
Today was the first time I’d met her in the real world—no, him? I never could’ve imagined the developer behind that game would be a woman.
“Fear from unfamiliar places, fear that pokes at your survival instincts through death, fear from supernatural beings humans can’t comprehend—they’re all built on the algorithm of ignorance.”
“What’s with the sudden lecture?”
“I’m saying this because you claimed Entity Hunt doesn’t feel scary anymore!”
I still remember our first meeting vividly.
As a horror game fanatic, I’d spent years giving advice to this newbie developer who kept cramming their survival horror game with everything you shouldn’t include. We were internet friends who’d never met in person, but somehow, here we were.
“Yeah, it’s not scary anymore. Hell, even the creepy, unsettling vibe it had as a monster story is pretty much gone.”
“But I made it as an SCP story from the start?”
“It’s tagged as horror. And SCP can be plenty scary.”
“What do you know? SCP isn’t horror anymore! The fun is in the lore nerds and neutralizing powerful SCPs!”
If I’d known she was this cute, I would’ve met up way sooner.
“So Entity Hunt isn’t horror?”
“It was horror, but it isn’t anymore. I told you at the start—fear comes from ignorance. How many years has it been since Entity Hunt launched?”
“Over three years, I’d say?”
“Three years of development and updates—how could it still be horror? Everyone who wants to know it already does, and those who’ve gotten used to it are used to it!”
Whether she knew how I felt or not, she kept rattling off what might’ve been excuses or analysis.
“The biggest problem with horror is it can’t be sustained long-term. Movies, novels, dramas—once they go series, long-form, or seasonal, the horror gets diluted until it vanishes! Repetition kills the ignorance, familiarity creeps in, and boom—the work stops being horror.”
“So horror always flops if it drags on?”
She wagged her finger side to side.
“Nope. That’s why long-running horror shifts to other survival hooks. It maximizes elements that get reactions beyond pure horror.”
“Like what?”
“Saw keeps it going with snuff vibes, creative traps, and killer twists. Final Destination’s all about how inventively it offs characters. Jason’s series ditched the lake slasher for globe-trotting, even hitting space later on.”
She might know horror better than me, at least outside games. I’m just a horror game guy.
“The Walking Dead lost the zombie and infection scares, pivoting to human drama. Resident Evil turned into an action shooter, and Dead by Daylight became survivors trolling the killer in survival magicka chaos.”
“Yeah.”
“Pizza Delivery Guard became a lore-obsessed game with zero horror left, Cthulhu got modded by fans into fantasy bosses or moe heroines via moe beams, and...”
How long was she planning to go on?
Was she still hung up on my recent forum post: “Entity Hunt doesn’t feel scary at all anymore, does it?”?
“Bottom line: for folks who’ve gotten familiar, piling on old horror elements just amps up the boredom. Nothing’s as dull as patterns on repeat.”
“So that’s why you added all those doodle-tier entities like elementary school scribbles?”
“I threw in a ton of Neapolitan Tales too?”
“Those are more weird or lore-intriguing than scary.”
This was fun—I had to poke more.
“I’ve been carefully shifting Entity Hunt’s direction bit by bit. For SCP stuff that’s lost its horror, you drop worldbuilding hooks, introduce special SCPs that tie into others. Basically, lore acceleration plus worldbuilding overload?”
“Impressive. So that’s why you added the Primordials?”
“You betcha, schwurbel!”
So that’s why those never-before-seen Primordials popped up on the forums.
“Did you make them yourself?”
“Took forever. Praise me.”
“Aww, good job.”
“No sincerity there. Keep that up, and I won’t give you the gift I had planned for today.”
“A gift? What kind?”
“First, two bits of good news. One: I can finally explain that thing you’ve been calling weird all this time.”
Something I pointed out?
Oh, right.
“Why are there so many lore-heavy entities?”
“Yup.”
“Didn’t you just explain that? Fear comes from ignorance, no more ignorance, so pivot to lore.”
“That’s part of it, but there’s a deeper reason.”
She handed me a business card. From a major game publisher whose name I recognized.
“Entity Hunt’s greenlit as an online game. That’s the second good news.”
“No way.”
“Gacha elements incoming. Collectible entities galore, gear versions too. Random boxes, special enhanced ones—everything to suck K-online gamers dry.”
“You’re bragging about that?”
“If it prints money!”
Yeah.
This chick’s been a moneybird, taking commissions for custom entities from day one.
“...No wonder some entities felt like they’d fit right into an online game. How long you been prepping?”
“Two years? Wasn’t confirmed till now—sorry.”
“So the Primordials are raid bosses?”
“Nah, they’re just for worldbuilding. Makes it feel more legit than some slapped-together cosmology, right?”
“Online game, though? No raid bosses?”
“There are, but not in classic Entity Hunt yet. Spoil everything upfront, and launch feels stale.”
An online game.
K-online style, even. Does Entity Hunt fit?
It’ll fit great. Item enhancement via Forgotten Alchemist’s Potion Belt. Trades with the Shady Dealer or auction house. Instanced dungeons as spatial entities. Gear from powerful entities, usage and warnings as penalty panels. Classes: enhancers for humans, superhumans via training, innate psychics, or Foundation hires gaining powers. Thinking it through, it sounds easy to build. Or maybe she’s been seeding entities for exactly that.
“Not bad. You’ve got skills.”
“Always have. And here’s your gift.”
She handed over a folder of a few A4 sheets.
“What’s this?”
“What’s most crucial in a K-online game? Items. Common, advanced, rare, unique, legendary, mythic—grades for that farming grind and gacha thrill.”
I could guess.
“But dump them all in gacha from day one? Backlash city. Devs know it, so first half-year post-launch? Top tiers only from field drops. Respawn’s once a month, so no flood risk.”
“So you’re saying...”
She grinned.
“This lists fixed respawn spots for the highest tier: Primordial items.”
“You turned Primordials into items?”
“Not the actual Primordials—just named the top grade ‘Primordial.’ You’re a rice farmer, right? Here’s your big sis’s hookup to farm ‘em on the sly!”
Not like I need it. But I thanked her anyway.
“Thanks. Now I can trade rice for ribeye.”
“I added that entity you requested, but no clue how to implement it.”
Shouldn’t be hard.
“What’s the motif?”
“You’re a horror buff—don’t tell me you don’t know.”
“So what is it?”
Oh, right—less horror, more legend or folk faith.
“Every human word and language carries meaning. Don’t throw them around lightly.”
“What’s that?”
“The basics of Word Spirits. Applies to writing too.”
“Ah.”
It had been ages since I dreamed of my original world.
I dragged my groggy body out of bed, pulled back the curtains.
Wonder how long it’s been since I had one of those dreams. Decades at least. Haven’t had one since I gave up crossing back for good. Guess nostalgia’s inevitable.
“Espresso, extra shot please.”
“Sure thing!”
I took a window seat amid the peppy part-timer’s greeting. That rare dream left me feeling wistful. Back then, I thought it was a useless gift. Looking back now, it helped big time. Riding that custom entity got me far, but it wasn’t enough solo. Not against something like that Andromeda Starlight entity from last time, though. Espresso arrived; caffeine jolted my brain awake. Thoughts finally sharpened. So peaceful. Kids chase each other in tag down the street, laughing. Café packed with study grinders in a row, chatty housewives cackling away. Part-timer hustles despite the rush; salarymen outside do the same. Cars zipping like they’re late for something. This scene. This moment. This slice of life. Do they know it could vanish a second from now? Probably not. They’re barely more than NPCs. I know they’re living humans, but I can’t adjust. I know they have emotions. I know they’re not programmed—they have free will. Even so, knowing this world’s foundation is a game... Nostalgia for my peaceful original world... I can’t see them as fully human.
“How about I just wipe the world myself?”
Who knows. Maybe death sends me back. Foundation’s weakened—could totally pull it off. But if it doesn’t? Then there’s only one thing I can do here.
“Great coffee, thanks.”
Live as an outsider, savoring the boredom.
“Sigh.”
Mid-walk, something snapped in my head.
“A cross, and now a snake?”
The cross was on some worthless human—I knew it’d kill easy even after use. But a snake? Not one to go down easy.
“Lee Seung-hoon the Fixer.”
A humanoid entity I don’t know. No online-game raid bosses have shown up till now, right? Least not at raid-boss level, as far as I know. Maybe Lee Seung-hoon the Fixer’s one? Gamer blood’s pumping.
“Guess boredom’s off the menu for a while.”