Chapter 7
Chapter 7
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Vine
Chapter: 7
Chapter Title: Beta Test
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Seo-rim was the competitive type.
She’d been that way since she was a child.
Once she started something, she never considered giving up halfway. Even when a task was overwhelming, she hated losing more, so she would stubbornly challenge it and overcome it.
It was the same when she studied, when she did sports, and finally, when she pursued art.
Seo-rim always struggled at the beginning, but she would become obsessed with the thought, ‘I think I can do it if I just try,’ and cling to it until the very end, ultimately reaping the rewards.
It was possible because she was that kind of person.
“I beat it!”
“Good job.”
She had cleared all of Dark Space.
Total playtime: 21 hours.
The game was originally designed to be about 14 hours long, but as a gaming novice, it took her that much longer to figure out the mechanics.
In that moment, Seo-rim felt a sense of relief and accomplishment.
It had been grueling, but it wasn't that it wasn't fun. There was a definite thrill each time she cleared a chapter, and there were visual pleasures as well.
All in all, a good experience—that’s how she would sum it up.
“Well, it was about this much.”
As Seo-rim puffed out her chest, Yeon-ho nodded.
“I was watching. You learn fast. Though you still got scared just as much.”
“I didn’t get scared by the same thing twice, you know?”
“But you did scream.”
“Are you trying to pick a fight? Just give me the next task. We need to start making a proper game soon, don’t we?”
Her enthusiasm was perfectly stoked.
Now that she understood how design was applied in a game, all that was left was the practical application.
He had definitely said it was about creating pixel art.
Fortunately, she wasn’t completely ignorant in that area either.
“Should I start with the character sprites?”
she asked, to which Yeon-ho shook his head.
“There’s something we need to do first.”
“What?”
“Let’s try this one next.”
Seo-rim’s expression hardened for a moment.
It was because Yeon-ho had pulled out another horror game.
The question escaped her lips automatically.
“Why?”
“It’s necessary.”
“Why don’t you just do it yourself?”
“You have to do it.”
*Click.* Yeon-ho turned on a voice recorder.
It was an incomprehensible action.
Seo-rim stared at him silently.
His face was impassive, but it felt like the face of a demon.
***
The scream collection took a total of two weeks.
“That’s it! I’m not doing any more!”
Han Seo-rim shouted.
Across the monitor, the words [GAME CLEAR] were displayed.
Her 8th game clear.
Yes, she had held out for long enough.
I had gotten what I wanted, so I readily agreed.
“You worked hard.”
If I remixed this, I could probably get some pretty decent sound effects.
I had gained something else, too.
‘The points where a player feels fear. I’m starting to get a definite feel for it.’
Things that needed revision were beginning to catch my eye.
Han Seo-rim felt fear at two main points:
Stealth missions that applied psychological pressure, and chase missions where she was pursued by an unstoppable enemy.
Being startled by a sudden appearance (Jump Scare) was a one-time thing.
As such sections were repeated, Han Seo-rim felt more annoyance than fear.
‘The horror elements need to have their colors toned down more…’
It was better to reduce the jump scares.
I couldn't lower the tension of the action just to maintain the genre color of survival horror. It was a balance required for mixing genres.
‘Stealth is hard to pull off within this volume, so…’
The one to adopt was the ‘chase mission.’
I would introduce one unstoppable enemy into the game.
Off the top of my head, I could think of a butcher with a triangular head, a hulking figure in a fedora, or a school janitor.
The effects that could be gained from this were already proven.
Even when not on screen, it exists in the player's consciousness, serving to heighten the tension at every moment.
Not only that, but outside of the game, it could sometimes develop a presence greater than the playable character and lead to viral, meme-like popularity.
‘Not bad.’
Ideas were bubbling up.
A clear image came to mind.
I imagined it.
‘What if I bring the final boss into earlier missions in an unstoppable state?’
What if it tormented the player as an incomprehensible entity throughout the entire gameplay?
It would surely instill a sense of pressure and a strong presence for the final boss within the game.
Taking it a step further, the catharsis of finally defeating the final boss would be amplified.
I immediately revised the design document and decided on the implementation method.
After some rough balancing, the result was satisfying.
It still needed a bit of tidying up, but that could be adjusted during the production and testing phases.
I sat down at the computer and said.
“Let’s start for real now.”
“What? What about system design and all that?”
“It’s done. Just now. From now on, it’s actual production.”
Seo-rim shrugged her shoulders.
“Well… okay. What should I do?”
“First, we need to create the image resources. Make the pixel art. Let’s start with the playable character.”
Han Seo-rim gave a rough nod and opened the program.
The necessary game engine and other programs were already prepared.
There was no reason to delay further.
I had given Han Seo-rim a rough guide, so she should be able to handle it on her own.
I just needed to advise her on the necessary parts.
The problem was me.
‘This game can’t be made with just the engine’s default tools.’
The default tools of the engine were too limited to follow the planned game mechanics.
Adding features to a satisfactory level and optimizing them to enhance performance required programming.
In other words, I needed to write new code.
‘Fortunately, it’s not impossible.’
My coding knowledge was 20 years ahead of this era.
Of course, that didn't mean it would be easy, but it wasn't at a level where I would run into difficulties either.
The real difficulty lay elsewhere.
The coding process itself.
The work from now on would be a continuous grind that wore down my mental energy.
It was different from simple labor.
The fact that I had to keep staring at black and white text and couldn't lose focus for even a moment was particularly taxing.
If a bug were to pop up…
‘…Hmm.’
I didn't want to think about it.
So, before I began, I first offered a prayer.
‘Oh, bugs, please, please don’t appear.’
An undeniable truth.
The most important thing in coding was faith.
***
Time flew by, and soon it was winter.
A week before Christmas, the campus settled into a quiet calm, anticipating the birth of Jesus.
In the middle of it all, in the club room, Han Seo-rim, rubbing a hand warmer, asked.
“Is this the final version?”
“To be precise, it’s a prototype. There will still be a lot of problems. We need to start full-scale development based on this.”
“Still, it’s taking the shape of a game, right?”
Han Seo-rim looked quite intrigued.
It was a feeling I could relate to.
Whether you were a first-time developer or a seasoned veteran, it was normal to feel a sense of excitement at this moment.
Of course, it was the first time seeing the tangible form of a game I had crafted with my own hands. How could I not be thrilled?
I decided to graciously pass the honor to Han Seo-rim.
“You try it.”
“You’re not going to do it, sunbae?”
“There are things you can only see when you’re observing from the side. Besides, it’s the first run. Wouldn’t it be more moving for you to do it yourself?”
That was the official reason.
“Okay. I’ll give it a try then.”
Han Seo-rim readily agreed.
Since the game ran on a PC, her hands were on the keyboard and mouse.
Her face was full of anticipation.
The moment the intro started to play.
[Kyaaaaaaah!]
An introductory scream rang out.
Han Seo-rim’s voice was low.
“…Sunbae.”
"Yes."
“What is this?”
“It’s a scream.”
“It sounds familiar.”
“Because it’s yours.”
“Do you want to die?”
“For the quality.”
“?”
“…For the quality of the game.”
Han Seo-rim’s hand trembled.
But, thankfully, she seemed to be letting it go.
“…Let’s talk about this later.”
Right, she must be curious about the game for now. It seems I timed that well.
Quickly shaking off her sulky expression, Han Seo-rim buried her face in the monitor.
A smile even appeared on her lips.
As she started playing, I could clearly see that emotion heightening.
But I knew.
‘It won’t last long.’
This was the process of looking at the game’s core.
In other words,
“…Huh?”
It was time to face a raw, crude game.
Because she was the one who made it, because she was the one who designed it, there would be a mountain of problems visible to her.
“Uh…”
It wasn't much different for Han Seo-rim.
After the sound of her clicking keyboard echoed for a while, she turned off the game.
A silence fell.
I asked.
“How was it?”
Han Seo-rim didn't answer right away.
She had a lot on her mind.
Resting her chin on her hand, she tapped her cheek with her index finger, lost in thought for a long time before finally speaking.
“…It’s really unfittingly flashy.”
She was referring to the UI and map design she had created.
She was right.
Han Seo-rim’s design was overwhelming the game.
Not because it was exceptionally good, but as she put it, the ‘unfittingly flashy’ design was harming the game’s intuitiveness.
The reason for this was clear.
The quality of the games Han Seo-rim had been exposed to was too high.
I had only made Han Seo-rim play masterpieces or games of a similar high caliber.
Her standards were now set at that level, and so her perception of ‘game design’ was skewed towards AAA titles.
The flashiness, unsuited for an indie game, was what created the sense of dissonance.
On top of that, Han Seo-rim had worked on the UI, map design, and character design all separately. She couldn’t see the overall composition at once, and I hadn’t allowed her to.
It was a preventative measure.
I had to instill in her the concept of ‘design appropriate for the game’s volume’ before she made a big mistake later on.
“Do you see what the problem is?”
“Looking at it all together like this, the intuitiveness is lacking. My eyes aren’t drawn to the character, and it’s hard to tell what’s on the map. The UI is the same. Because the borders have highlights, it’s hard to focus on the actual content.”
“You nailed it.”
“You did this on purpose, didn’t you? So I would see it.”
“That’s right.”
“You’re malicious.”
With that, Han Seo-rim clicked her tongue, her expression turning resentful.
It was a good sign. In fact, it was better than I expected.
To be able to judge this much on her own and objectify her work meant her understanding was that high.
She was truly worthy of being called the mother of [Lost Kingdom].
“Can you fix it?”
“Yes, I’ll get it done by the next revision.”
“Alright, I’ve checked for the major bugs, so I’ll focus on that.”
“Rebalance it, too. How is a knife stronger than a chainsaw?”
“That’s the aesthetic.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
*Hmph*. Han Seo-rim scoffed and immediately went to her computer.
She opened the program.
She started working again with angry gestures.
The next version would surely be much better than this.
In that case, I should trust her completely and focus on my own work.
‘The biggest bug is the AI of the immortal boss mob.’
Although it was just a few patterns that could hardly be called AI, there were quite a few moments when it got tangled up.
There were also minor bugs with mob placement and item looting processes, and above all, the interaction between the playable character and the map was unsatisfactory.
I looked at the calendar.
December 19th.
With this much progress, it should be okay to set a deadline.
Considering the practicalities, it was so.
‘I have to finish it before winter ends.’
At the very least, I needed to produce a decent result before returning to school.
Once the semester started, I wouldn’t have enough time.
***
There’s no need to elaborate on the grueling development process.
To cut to the chase, the game was now complete enough for external testing.
Overall, it wasn’t bad.
Today, January 22nd, the test version was finished.
The game had successfully implemented all the elements from the initial concept.
I had fixed all the bugs I could find, and I had also firmly addressed any potential weapon balance issues that could arise during gameplay.
The game would provide the player with weapons that created just the right amount of challenge for each chapter. With these, they would engage in thrilling, close-call battles with enemies.
With one exception.
‘The final boss. This guy is the problem.’
I stared at the massive monster on the monitor.
Cancer Giant.
That was the name of this boss monster, which tormented the player throughout the game and appeared as the final enemy.
This creature couldn't be killed with any weapon before entering the final boss room.
It had a gimmick of 1,000x health and a guaranteed instant death upon being hit.
The intention was clear.
[Don’t fight this guy before the boss room. Just run.]
But in the history of mankind, has there ever been an era where everyone lived by the rules?
Heretics exist in every age, and it was no different in the world of the internet.
These heretics would answer.
[No, I’m gonna kill it. I’m gonna kill it at level 1, naked.]
It might sound like a lie, but it’s true.
In this industry, there are players who enjoy playing games in unnecessarily hardcore ways.
This is true for any game, but in an action genre like this, players with such perversions are rampant.
A pair of underwear and a toothpick.
That’s all they needed for their challenge.
'The Cancer Giant would be good bait.'
After all, if you hit it for even 1 point, its health would go down, and that would be visible on the health bar.
They would surely focus on the fact that it could be killed somehow.
Of course, it was a good kind of curiosity.
As a developer, it was also important to have the capacity to set the stage for gamers to feel such curiosity and act on it.
If I could solve just one problem, I would gladly welcome them.
‘Every challenge in a game must have a corresponding reward.’
It was a famous saying in the industry, and that saying was the problem.
In other words, I had to give the user an item worthy of their effort, but setting that item was too tricky.
The reward had to be a special item.
A gamer trying to find and clear an Easter egg is a user who enjoys the game that much; how could I forsake a nascent fanbase?
But for that reason, I couldn’t create an item that would break the balance.
A game where the player's abilities change only through weapons.
Considering that identity, a weapon that breaks the balance would clearly give users who didn’t clear the Easter egg a sense of deprivation.
Moreover, there was another problem.
‘There’s nothing suitable.’
I had already balanced all the weapons, extending to the realm of interactions to create weapon combinations, or combos. Squeezing in a dissimilar item here was clearly a stretch.
I pondered for a long time.
What would be a suitable weapon?
What weapon could function in-game without disrupting this balance?
After much thought, I finally came up with one solution.
'I have no choice.'
I had to do ‘that.’
“Seo-rim.”
“Yes.”
“Let’s make one more weapon.”
“…What?”
“Yeah, I need a weapon that only that guy drops. There’s something that’s been bothering me.”
“That’s the final boss. The game ends when you kill it, so is there a need to make one?”
“It’s for players who kill this guy before the boss fight even starts. It’s an Easter egg.”
I explained the concept of the weapon to Han Seo-rim.
A look of doubt appeared on her face.
“…Is that really okay?”
“It’s an Easter egg. We can only hope it’s discovered as late as possible. No, I don’t even know if it will be discovered in the first place.”
That was the truth.
Since it was a game made by university students with no foundation, I couldn’t guarantee a shocking success right upon release.
In the first place, this was a foundational game made by picking out a tiny fraction of the many ideas I had conceived the moment I first saw Hell.
I predicted the game’s success would come later, when a game I made with a bigger budget succeeded, and my career was re-examined.
People who would be interested in the Easter egg would only appear later, so there was no need to worry about it for now.
“I don’t know either.”
I had to accept that no matter how hard I worked, I couldn’t control every element of the game.
In any case, the game was thus completed, with the insertion of the Easter egg.
Now, all that remained was the evaluation known as testing.
Beta Test.