Chapter 170
Chapter 170
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 170
Chapter Title: The Awards Ceremony - Hellic 4 (1)
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In early December, as the awards season began in earnest, the results were in.
[1 : 1 : 1]
That was the number of trophies taken by Hellic 4, Seiro, and End of Earth 2, respectively.
Among them, Hellic 4 won at the D.I.C.E. Awards, where industry professionals served as the judges.
This marked the second time a game made by Yeon-ho had received recognition from the industry.
Of course, games exist for the public, but how could that fact not bring him joy?
In terms of prestige, this award held a special significance compared to other ceremonies, making it a valid and meaningful prize.
Thus, a festive atmosphere bloomed within Rewind, but they couldn't let their guard down.
“It’s not GOTY, after all.”
In this new era, where the lines between nations in the gaming industry have blurred, the standard of ‘most GOTY wins’ no longer exists.
Now, there was only one true measure of GOTY.
The Game Awards.
That ceremony had become synonymous with the best game of the year.
This year, the TGA was scheduled last.
Serving as the prelude to the grand finale was the Golden Joystick Awards.
Unfortunately, at this particular ceremony, none of the three highly anticipated titles of the year received an award.
No, in fact, this was a predictable outcome.
For the first time since Yeon-ho's regression had turned everything upside down, a result from his past life repeated itself.
“Biohazard RE:2! Congratulations!”
Despite various incidents like the sudden change in End of Earth 2’s release date and the intervention of Hellic 4, a well-made game is like an awl in a pocket—it is bound to reveal itself.
Thunderous applause erupted in the awards hall.
The same was true for the Rewind team.
“That one was pretty fun.”
“Seo-rim, you really like horror games, huh.”
“That’s because a certain someone made me play nothing but horror and hardcore games when I was first learning. And since I only make those kinds of games now, my tastes have gotten weird.”
Seo-rim shot Yeon-ho a sharp glare, but he pretended not to hear.
The one who throws the punch is always the first to forget.
After that brief exchange, the ceremony ended.
Rewind was busy.
They had to head straight to their next engagement.
This time, in addition to the six original members and Yang Gil-sang who always attended, one more person had joined them.
“Ha! I never thought I’d live to see the day I’d attend an awards ceremony!”
It was Mr. Kim Bae-seok, everyone’s favorite enthusiast and Rewind’s stunt director.
Bae-seok had left his action school behind and chosen to join Rewind full-time.
Of course, he hadn't sold the school; he had appointed a figurehead president and taken on the role of chairman, handling only the final approval of a few documents.
Explaining what had moved his heart would be a rather long story.
There was the rediscovery of the joy of performing stunts while teaching others, the thrill of knowing he could still take on challenges at his age, and on top of that, the look of admiration from his son—something he hadn't seen since his son started elementary school.
—Wow… Dad, did you film all of this?
—Ah, it was nothing.
—It’s freaking awesome!!!
—Honey, you’ve still got it.
—Uh, huh…?
—Heehee….
—Uhhh…?
For a middle-aged man, recognition at home was just as important as professional success.
Respected by his son and loved by his wife, Bae-seok was a god, invincible.
Furthermore, the experience of standing on the stage of a global awards ceremony as a stunt performer provided external fulfillment as well.
In any case, Bae-seok, too, was speaking with a voice full of anticipation.
“I heard the TGA has an acting award. That’s my goal.”
The words he uttered while wiping under his nose with his index finger were not just a pipe dream.
Best Performance, one of the TGA award categories.
Bae-seok, who had directed and personally performed all the action stunts for Hellic 4, was nominated.
* * *
No matter how many times I return, the meaning of an awards ceremony is bound to be special to me.
It was the fervent wish of my past life, a validation that I wasn't wrong, and in other words, proof that I could continue to move forward.
A bird with broken wings cannot fly.
A cheetah with a broken leg cannot run.
And I, unable to create games, cannot live.
That is why, in every moment, with every project, I must prove myself.
Regardless of what games I made or what reviews I received before this one, would any of it matter the moment a new game is placed on the podium?
I can say with certainty that it would not.
A game is judged entirely on its own merits.
Because the public delivers its cold verdict in numbers.
And so today, I find myself praying, something I rarely do.
The TGA awards hall.
Realizing I was caught in a current beyond my control, I naturally fell silent.
“What are you worried about? We’re the leading candidate for the TGA.”
Yang Gil-sang said, but his words didn't quite reach me.
“You never know until the trophy is in your hands.”
Predicting which game would win was something I could only do before my regression.
It was only possible because I was now down here, below this stage that felt like walking on thin ice.
To be sure, Hellic 4 had the highest sales.
It also held the top spot in various media scores, albeit by a narrow margin.
And if you included the social impact it created, Hellic 4 was indeed a potential GOTY.
But, in the end, it is the judges who give the award.
The judges are human, and humans are subjective.
And subjectivity had a way of blurring data.
“And now…!”
The start of the ceremony was announced.
One by one, the results began to unfold before me.
“Best Art Direction, Best Art Direction, Best Art Direction, Best Art Direction…!”
Han Seo-rim wanted the individual award she hadn't received last season.
“Ah… my bangs…”
Mr. Kim Bae-seok, overflowing with confidence about winning, was applying mousse to his hair while looking in a hand mirror.
Yang Gil-sang, who was bald, was staring at the slicked-back, thick, and shiny hair with a peculiar expression.
Bloop! Bloop!
Having already won an award, Jo A-yun was completely engrossed in Mobile Maple, oblivious to the ceremony.
Even her mobile phone had been consumed by Maple!
Amidst this series of moments, the minor awards concluded, and the presentation of the main awards began.
“First up is Best Score and Music!”
Jo A-yun was still playing Mobile Maple.
How could she be so uninterested in an award that directly involved her?
It was utterly unfamiliar, yet it reminded me of one aspect of Jo A-yun’s mindset that hadn't changed from my past life to this one.
—A desire for fame? I don’t really have one. I just like making games with you, Team Leader.
—I-It’s fun making games with you, President…!
She just loves to create.
Unlike me, who is obsessed with the results.
Perhaps she's the one who enjoys creation in its purest form.
Just then, a small laugh escaped my lips.
“Hellic 4! Congratulations!”
“A-yun, that’s your award.”
Jo A-yun looked up as I spoke.
She pouted as if annoyed, but when Yang Gil-sang whispered, “Smile. Smile!” her eyes widened and her mouth opened in a goofy grin.
Jo A-yun looked at me.
I gestured toward the stage with my chin.
“Go on up.”
For this result, at least, I had no objections.
No, could there be anyone here who disagreed?
Jo A-yun is a genius.
She was simply born that way.
That clumsiness she displayed as she scurried to the stage was the unmistakable nonchalance of someone at the pinnacle of the industry, a fact that would remain true until the day she retired.
“Th-thank youuu…”
An ordinary person cannot understand a genius.
I, too, cannot understand Jo A-yun.
I can only feel relieved that she’s on my team.
“…Can I go down now?”
Clutching the award, Jo A-yun tossed out a single “Thank you” and asked the host.
The host gave an awkward laugh and nodded.
Just as she was about to return to her seat, Jo A-yun went—thump!
She missed a step and took a big tumble on the stage.
It seemed the culprit was the fact that someone who usually only wore slippers was wearing high heels.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake…!”
Yang Gil-sang sighed, but laughter broke out here and there at the sight of Jo A-yun getting up with a reddened nose.
Everything from her brief acceptance speech to this clumsy display, combined with the memory of her trembling legs at the last awards ceremony, created a positive impression of Jo A-yun.
My eyes met Jo A-yun’s.
She gave a bashful smile.
Click!
The sound of a camera shutter echoed.
Her pure, uncalculated demeanor once again drew people’s attention.
And so, the award for music was over.
After that, Jo A-yun went on to sweep up two awards all by herself, including Best Audio Design.
* * *
The ceremony continued.
The next award for Rewind was the very one Bae-seok had so desperately wanted: ‘Best Performance’.
However, the moment of celebration and joy was brief.
“…It was from that moment on. I couldn’t shake the questions: What is a stunt? What is action? Why do people get so excited about it? It was a confusing time. I remember my wife telling me I was too old to be so childishly stubborn, and my son would just lock himself in his room and play games. But perhaps because of those struggles, our family has become… more…”
Kim Bae-seok, the man of passion.
No one could stop him as he stood before everyone, accepting his award and giving his speech.
Not even the host could stop him, and the interpreter standing beside him had started to stammer with a tearful face.
Ah, the ramblings of a middle-aged man going through a midlife crisis were truly this terrifying.
As the audience gradually grew weary, the host made a decisive move for the greater good.
“And on this occasion…”
“Yes! We heard you loud and clear!”
Normally, such a rude interruption at an awards ceremony would have drawn glares, but this time, the space was filled only with gazes of gratitude and admiration for the host.
Bae-seok pouted in disappointment.
But who would be swayed by a middle-aged man’s whining?
A grand entrance and a shabby exit.
The ceremony was quickly returning to its original atmosphere.
It was then.
That Seo-rim’s tension became so palpable it was almost nauseating.
‘Best Art Direction, Best Art Direction, Best Art Direction, Best Art Direction…!’
Seo-rim is different from A-yun.
Putting everything else aside, their very natures were different.
A-yun doesn’t have a strong desire for achievement or a competitive streak when it comes to work.
She just covers it up with sheer talent.
Seo-rim is the embodiment of competitiveness.
In a way, she was endlessly similar to Yeon-ho, and for that reason, she was obsessed with proving herself.
It's only natural to want others to recognize your hard work.
“Next up is Best Art Direction!”
Seo-rim didn't think there was anything wrong with feeling that way.
“It’s your turn.”
“It has to be my turn. This one really has to be mine!”
Seo-rim, whispering fiercely, widened her eyes.
Then she saw Yeon-ho beside her.
That damn man.
Even at a moment like this, he was just staring straight ahead.
How could she make him look at her?
As she pondered, Seo-rim came up with a rather ridiculous idea.
“…Sunbae.”
“Yeah.”
“If I win this award, you have to give me a reward.”
Yeon-ho’s gaze turned to Seo-rim.
Seo-rim smiled crookedly and said.
“Try calling me oppa.”
Seo-rim still hadn't given up on that damned 'oppa' (misinformation from an online community).
But she couldn’t bring herself to say it.
So, what other choice was there but to make the other person call her oppa? (Absolutely not.)
It was an extension of that line of thinking.
Seo-rim imagined Yeon-ho calling her oppa.
It was so ridiculous that she felt some of her tension ease.
Now that she’d achieved her initial goal, maybe she could just say she was kidding?
…she thought, but the pitiful look on Yeon-ho’s face was so annoying that Seo-rim stuck to her guns.
“Deal?”
“How is me calling you oppa a reward?”
“It is to me.”
“…Seo-rim. That online community…”
“What about it?”
“…”
Yeon-ho finally nodded.
Seo-rim let out a low laugh.
It was at that moment.
That a strange certainty, an atmosphere, a current of sorts, told Seo-rim she had won.
“Hellic 4! Congratulations!”
Hearing the name strike her eardrums like thunder, Seo-rim beamed.
Her gaze went to the front, then back to Yeon-ho.
Yeon-ho opened and closed his mouth like a goldfish before speaking.
“O…”
“O?”
“…”
“You have to say it.”
“…Oppa.”
Yeon-ho grimaced as if he’d gotten the chills.
Seo-rim couldn't help but laugh out loud.
‘Ah, right.’
The word ‘oppa’ really packed a punch.
Just hearing it felt like a massive blow to the stimulus receptors in her brain.
In any case, the award she had longed for was in her hands.
Seo-rim stood up from her seat.
Walking up to the stage with a smile, feeling both joy and a sense of accomplishment, Seo-rim truly looked like the star of the show.