Chapter 49
Chapter 49
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 49
Chapter Title: A Titan's Offer
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A cafe in the hotel lounge.
An Americano sat on the table between us as I exchanged glances with the Western man across from me.
It was awkward. Incredibly awkward.
All the more so because that man happened to be Alid Russo.
“Aren't your team members joining us? I’d love to greet the talented people who created Hellic.”
I answered Alid’s question.
“This is my employees’ first trip abroad. I want to let them rest and keep them as far away from work as possible.”
“You’re a good boss.”
“It’s nothing.”
I couldn’t very well tell him I was hiding them because I had no idea what he might try to pull.
What filled me was wariness.
Alid Russo’s hunger for talent was so immense it was the stuff of industry scandals.
He was infamous for poaching talent. The behind-the-scenes stories of *Lost Kingdom*'s development even included an incident where he unceremoniously snatched a key programmer from another company.
And that man’s art director…
…was Han Seo-rim.
“But I have to ask, how did you know to meet us at the airport?”
I didn’t want her to be taken from me.
Regardless of my past life, Han Seo-rim was too precious a talent to lose.
Whether he sensed my thoughts or not, Alid answered nonchalantly.
“I’m privy to your entire awards ceremony schedule. Didn’t you know?”
“...You’re a judge for the D.I.C.E. Awards.”
“That’s right. I’m on the panel this year.”
D.I.C.E. was a summit of industry professionals, and the awards ceremony they hosted was a prestigious event, considered one of the top five in gaming.
To put it simply, for a judge like Alid, knowing our itinerary was a piece of cake.
Of course, a judge personally seeking out a nominee was bound to be controversial, but…
“Loosen up. No need to look so serious. Just think of this as a friendly chat.”
He wasn't the kind of man to care about such things.
At least, not the man before me.
“I just wanted to meet you. You might not know this, but I quite enjoyed your game.”
“I read your review. It was a great help, and I should thank you for it.”
“Forget it. No need for all that mushy gratitude.”
He chuckled and said.
“Alright, you seem uncomfortable, so I’ll get to the point. First, let me ask you something.”
“What is it?”
“That game… how did you design it?”
Alid leaned forward.
His eyelids drooped lazily. I could smell alcohol on his breath; the man was actually drinking at a cafe.
Yet, there was no hiding the look in his eyes.
Beneath those drooping lids, his eyes shone with a piercing light.
“It was revolutionary. The narrative twist itself was something one could attempt, but the way you integrated it into the game was exceptional. You know, every developer dreams of making all the elements in their game fit together perfectly, like cogs in a machine. But very few actually pull it off. It’s that difficult, and you did it.”
It was praise so high, I could hardly believe it was coming from Alid Russo.
“The reason I called your ending the greatest wasn’t because of the story. It’s because every element of the game finally clicks into place with that ending, completing the machine. In the East, you call it dotting the dragon’s eye, right? The experience of a fragmented puzzle suddenly assembling itself in your mind was that thrilling. I want to know about the design prowess that accomplished that.”
A mischievous grin had spread across his face.
But the atmosphere was intensely serious.
A thought occurred to me: perhaps this was why he was able to reach the pinnacle of the industry.
Because he was someone who could find pure, childlike joy in something and then shape it with the reason of an adult.
Because he possessed that duality.
…I pushed the thought aside.
My lips formed a reply.
“It wasn’t revolutionary. It’s a variation on what already exists.”
“So it’s purely a product of your input?”
“Yes.”
“You’re being too modest.”
“There’s nothing to be modest about.”
Because it was the truth.
“I’ve seen a lot, and I’ve studied a lot.”
I studied things not from this era, but from an era when this one would be considered an ancient relic.
I learned, studied, and internalized countless analyses and trends, then poured them out.
Among them was *Lost Kingdom*, created by the very man sitting before me.
I had simply mixed them all with my own unique experiences.
“I received a lot of help from the veterans of the industry.”
In other words, if I were to humbly admit it, the success of *Hellic 2* was a gift from the future, and a gift from hell.
I had no intention of denying it.
But I couldn’t say that outright, so I spoke in abstracts.
At that, Alid suddenly pointed a finger at his own chin.
“Am I one of those veterans?”
His face was full of anticipation.
When I nodded, he burst out laughing, “Khaha!”
The eyes of those around us turned to our table, but he didn't seem to care.
“I knew it! Of course, who else is there to respect but me!”
His sky-high confidence was the same even back then.
As I watched him, he spoke.
“Well, that makes things easier.”
The real business was about to follow my show of respect.
As I suspected, he hadn't called me here just to chat.
Tension coiled in my body.
If Alid wanted Han Seo-rim…
“Kid, have you ever thought about working for me?”
…?
“I covet your talent. I covet your youth, and your potential. I want you.”
For a moment, my mind went blank.
Because of his unabashedly direct words.
Because of his startlingly clear objective.
“I saw the interview you did in Korea. You’ve got some big dreams. Under me, you can achieve them.”
“...That’s.”
“GOTY. Isn’t that what you want?”
Alid Russo was serious.
He didn’t hide his emotions, making it obvious at a glance.
Should I be relieved that his target wasn't Han Seo-rim, or should I be wary that it was me?
As my lips parted and closed, he spoke again.
“It’ll be difficult on your own.”
My body stiffened.
“As you probably know, your opponent this year is *Minecraft*. A complete victory? Impossible. I’m certain of it. That game is going to change the era.”
I pushed aside my shock and dismay and forced myself to think.
This man’s insight alone was phenomenal.
It was truly befitting of someone at the top of the industry.
His intuition, allowing him to state something that hadn't happened yet with such certainty, was almost frightening.
“Give up for this year. And come work for me. I have a game in the planning stages. I want to use your team for it. This is, in effect, an acquisition offer.”
It was an incredibly sweet offer.
For an indie developer from Korea, an isolated island in the gaming world, it was too great an honor.
A subsidiary studio under Studio Valhalla—the prestige that name carried in the industry was by no means small.
I didn't have to look far for proof.
The fact that a single review from Alid Russo had marked a dramatic turning point for *Hellic 2*'s success was proof enough.
“So, what do you say? I can meet whatever price you name. Assuming it’s not completely outrageous, of course.”
Silence fell after his words.
Alid smiled confidently, as if he had no doubt I would accept.
I, too, couldn’t answer rashly.
I knew the value of this offer.
Above all, wasn't this a hand extended by my childhood idol?
For a moment, we simply stared at each other.
The ambient noise of the cafe seemed to sharpen as it pierced the silence.
My mind was spinning.
Thoughts, judgments, and one more thing.
“Is it a difficult decision? I can’t imagine why.”
Self-loathing.
“…”
A dry laugh escaped me.
I was belatedly hit by a wave of self-loathing.
Because I had imagined myself participating in the creation of *Lost Kingdom*.
I had sworn to devote myself to the dream I wanted to unfold, yet the moment I saw the hand offered by the man who had once been my dream, my reason had been clouded by admiration.
At the same time, I felt a sense of relief.
To put it another way, looking at it more positively, it meant that my conviction in myself and my studio was strong enough to remain rational even after receiving such an offer.
Composing myself was easy.
Only after I had done so did I answer.
“I’ll have to pretend I didn’t hear that offer.”
Alid’s eyes widened as if they would tear.
He looked as if he’d been struck on the back of the head with a hammer.
Was it truly that surprising?
“Why?”
The question that came out was a cliché.
I gave a cliché answer.
“Because I refuse to bend.”
“Refuse to bend?”
“It feels like running away. Going to work under you.”
I had thought about it.
Could I realize my dream under him?
The answer was ‘no.’
Of course, there would be no pressure from money, schedules, or management.
I might even be able to take a direct route to my dream of an AAA GOTY.
But one crucial thing would be missing: freedom.
Alid was a tyrant.
The only world I could create under him would be his world.
My world would remain forever trapped inside me.
Yes, of course, I couldn't guarantee a victory against *Minecraft* with my own strength.
The probability of failure was high.
But still.
“If I was going to give up before I even started, I wouldn’t have founded my own company. I would’ve just joined some corporation that pays a steady salary.”
That wasn't a valid reason.
From the moment I chose this dream, my choices had always bordered on the irrational.
“I’m going to win GOTY. One, two—more than *Minecraft*.”
I had been preparing for this day.
From the moment I declared *Hellic 2* would be released in 2011, it became a game in which I invested a great deal of time and thought into one thing above all: beating *that game*.
Besides, *Minecraft*'s true impact was still something that 'hadn't happened yet.'
This wasn't baseless confidence.
As I've said before, at least for this year, at this moment, while that game was still within my sights, it was a challenge worth taking.
“Is that answer enough for you?”
After saying it all, I felt a little refreshed.
It was a beneficial moment that allowed me to solidify my own resolve.
My only concern was that Alid wouldn’t take my challenge the wrong way.
In the end, it was a needless worry.
Alid let out a hollow laugh.
“You’re one strange bastard.”
He said, mixing in a curse.
“You know what? This is a first for me. Meeting a bastard as strange as I am.”
There was no displeasure in his laugh.
I could almost see a hint of disappointment at his failed recruitment attempt, but it was quickly hidden.
How should I interpret this…
*…Right.*
“You praise me too highly.”
What was written on his face was curiosity.
At least, that’s how I saw it.
* * *
Studio Valhalla was in New York.
Though its name evoked Norse mythology and Alid Russo’s own name sounded European, leading many to mistake its origins, Valhalla was an American company through and through. That its leader, Alid Russo, was American was just another detail.
In any case, setting aside such trivialities, inside Valhalla’s office.
Alid had just returned when he was met with a question.
“Boss, how did the recruitment go?”
It was Manderson, one of his level designers.
His face was full of expectation.
Alid answered with a hearty laugh.
“It was a failure!”
“...Sir?”
“He said he doesn’t want to be under anyone! A bold young man.”
The slow hardening of Manderson’s expression was understandable.
After all, wasn’t Manderson the one who had wanted Yeon-ho more than anyone?
Even Alid thought Yeon-ho was sharp enough to handle Manderson’s obsessive attention to detail.
But what could he do?
Things had turned out this way.
Manderson then asked.
“...You’re just going to give up because he refused? You, boss?”
Manderson looked as if he had just witnessed cosmic horror.
It was natural, given that rejection had never been a reason for Alid to give up on recruitment before.
Alid explained.
“That kid won’t bend, no matter how you approach him. He’d rather break.”
Alid recalled his meeting with Yeon-ho.
A face so expressionless it was like a machine, a monotone voice, a cold demeanor.
He seemed like a man who had trapped a blazing fire behind that mask.
There was a certain insight that came with age.
People of that sort were generally very stubborn and self-righteous.
They desired absolute victory over compromise and enjoyed competition more than cooperation.
There was one reason he could be so sure.
“He’s like me. To be precise, he’s like my younger self.”
At the dawn of video games, amidst a flood of experimental titles, there was a time when he had been obsessed with the challenges, achievements, and rewards that came with striving to be the undisputed best.
There had been a time when heart-pounding competition was just so thrilling.
It all started in a garage with friends, driven by nothing but the pursuit of fun. How many battles had he fought to reach the top of the industry with Studio Valhalla?
How many enemies had he made and defeated along the way?
“It reminded me of the old days. Yes, back when I was making my first game, *Road to Punk*.”
It had started with a single idea.
The idea that it would be fun if a cowboy with a steam engine implanted in his body just smashed through every obstacle in his path.
To make it a reality, he had brought in Manderson, who stood before him now, and Joseph, who was currently suffering through debugging.
Studio Valhalla had begun by confronting the era head-on, and that was how it reached the top.
Alid, who had closed his eyes in reminiscence, continued in a sentimental voice.
“Wasn’t it fun? Those days when we just ran for the top, no matter what anyone said, they were exhilarating. But you know…”
Now, it wasn't so easy to find that same excitement.
Some say it’s lonely at the top.
But Alid thought differently.
It wasn’t loneliness; it was boredom.
Wasn't it true? The only ones who can reach the summit are those who love the struggle.
For that very reason, once you reach the top where there's nothing left to fight for, you can't help but writhe in agony from the boredom.
In that respect, Yeon-ho was a man who made Alid reminisce about his past.
To be precise, he was a man who made him want to fight like he did back in those days.
“A thought occurred to me. Would it be more fun to have this kid working under me, or to raise him up and compete with him?”
A broad grin spread across Alid’s lips.
“The answer is obvious, isn’t it?”
He was the kind who could climb his way up.
If his judgment of people wasn't wrong, and if that kid was truly the one who created *Hellic 2*, then with just a little guidance, he would become a giant.
Before long, he would be right at his heels, reaching for the top.
He'd feel a sense of crisis.
And then, it would be a competition.
Just like in the old days, they could fight over who was better, who made the more perfect game.
“A game has to surprise you. You have to feel that catharsis.”
“Are we on this again?”
“I can’t say it enough. The alpha and omega of gaming is fun. But humans are creatures of adaptation. Even the most revolutionary fun gets old eventually. That’s why games must bloom to be more stimulating, more spectacular, and more explosive. We need more people who understand that. For the growth of the market!”
So he would definitely catch up.
As he made this declaration, Manderson spoke.
“...But before that, Rewind has to beat *Minecraft*. And didn’t you say that was impossible? With your own mouth, boss.”
“I did.”
To be precise, it would become impossible to win *in the future*.
“*Minecraft*'s potential for expansion is limitless. Just by adding content through regular patches, at the moment those additions accumulate, that game will possess infinite possibilities.”
To put it in extreme terms, if you planted the element of 'mods' into that expandability, you could recreate the rules of most existing games within it.
In other words, it would become like a chameleon, taking on countless forms and providing endless content.
Alid saw that potential.
And so he had told Yeon-ho.
Of course, he had avoided saying anything unnecessary in his attempt to recruit him, and his nuance had guaranteed Yeon-ho’s defeat.
He was glad he had.
If he had confessed everything, he wouldn't have been able to see Yeon-ho's true colors.
“How did he know? That interesting friend from the East.”
He was just in his twenties, a student about to graduate.
And yet, he firmly believed in the possibility of victory in the present, something Alid hadn't even mentioned.
That's right.
They could compete.
The directions of *Hellic* and *Minecraft* were that different, and *Hellic*'s initial sales were higher.
Furthermore, the difference in genre acted as a major variable.
'*Minecraft* has expandability that comes from being incomplete. It’s an open world with infinite possibilities. For that reason, its initial launch lacks explosive power. It’s a game that looks to the distant future, one that needs constant improvement.'
But *Hellic* was the opposite.
The director's perfectionistic stubbornness had closed off the game's possibilities.
Instead, he had thoroughly controlled every element to build a single fence, and within that fence, he had sculpted everything with extreme detail.
Divergence and convergence. From that point on, it was really a matter of taste.
And trophies usually loved convergent completeness.
Of course, that wasn't the deciding factor for victory or defeat.
“This, too, will be fun to watch.”
How right would the kid's conviction turn out to be?
While he was thinking, Manderson asked.
“So, boss, do you think *Hellic* will win?”
“I don’t know. Not knowing is what makes it fun. This is a game, too.”
Alid looked at the wall completely filled with game cases.
His heart was pounding with the excitement of a boy again.
He recalled the first time he played those games.
There were certainly things in the world that were more fun because you didn't know them, and for Alid, that had been unfamiliar games.
This was no different.
The thrill came from not knowing the outcome.
Was there any need to spoil that feeling?
He would just cheer for the side that piqued his interest, like betting on a sports game.
The question of who would take home the indie GOTY this year—wouldn't it be much more enjoyable to watch it unfold in real-time?
And on a separate note.
“Of course, there is one thing that’s certain.”
One couldn’t carelessly predict the future.
But, Alid said it anyway.
“There won’t be another competition like this. At least not in the indie scene for the next ten years.”
This was a major showdown.
One that could never happen again at the indie level.
And the winner of the competition deserved a reward.
“Still, I’m personally hoping *Hellic* wins.”
It would set the stage for a great gift.
Alid’s smile didn't fade.
* * *
Two weeks passed.
Christmas was just around the corner.
“...It’s 17 to 17.”
*Minecraft* and *Hellic 2* had split the awards exactly down the middle.
The only ceremony left was the Spike Game Awards—the predecessor to 'The Game Awards,' which would one day be treated as the sole standard for GOTY.
The final showdown awaited on the biggest stage of them all.