Chapter Sixty-Seven: The Beginnings of Creating a Narrative Game

By the end of the game, when Yin Jian saw the death notice appear before him, he was stunned for a moment before understanding dawned.

“So that’s how it is.”

It was only at this point that he finally pieced together the full cause and effect of the in-game events.

Earlier, after he managed to kill the teacher in self-defense, he obtained the teacher’s imposing human-skin mask, which bore the number four. The moment he touched it, the mask vanished. At the same time, his vision shifted—the once shadowy world gained a hint of brightness.

He went on to experience more events, was attacked by Lin Yin, and after surviving and killing again, he obtained mask number three. His vision became even clearer, and the subway station grew brighter.

Though he already sensed something was wrong, he continued to follow the plot, wanting to see what would happen if he stuck to the story’s path. Later, he retrieved mask two from the old woman next door. At that point, he assumed the final mask, number one, would be with his sister, who had yet to appear. Unexpectedly, he found his sister’s mask, number five, hidden in the folds of the bedding.

It was only then that he realized the meaning behind the graffiti on the wall—the five little figures represented the five masks.

Yet, just as he tried to find the last mask, he simply couldn’t. It wasn’t until right before the game ended that he noticed: there were no mirrors in the entire world.

No mirrors meant the game didn’t want him to see himself. In other words, the final mask was on his own face.

Based on the previous plot, only by removing that mask would his world return to normal.

But… the result was his death.

“His sister’s death made the protagonist loathe and fear the world,” he mused. “This split his personality in two—one filled with hatred for the world, the other wishing to abandon the past and start anew. The hateful personality retains the memories. To seize control of the body, it must destroy the good persona. By posing as the narrator, it influences his thoughts, making him see only the darkness in humanity. This explains everything seen in the subway station. Every incongruity was orchestrated by the narrator. Even the restoration of the world after killing monsters was the narrator’s doing. The aim was to make the good persona personally destroy his last source of hope, leaving him in utter despair. Damn, this is truly depressing.”

After finishing the game, Yin Jian felt utterly drained.

And this was only the first installment. If he played the rest in one sitting, he’d probably need to see a therapist by the end of the day.

“The game’s plot, its details, and its overall quality are all excellent, but this style is not for me,” Yin Jian muttered, shaking his head as he closed "Your Healing Game."

As for whether it was a waste of money not to play the later, paid versions—what a joke! I’ve already paid, why should that obligate me to play?

He closed the game’s description and continued browsing the rankings, studying the other games on the list.

Discard the dross, take the essence.

But as he kept learning, he soon got carried away and lost himself in play.

These games are just too damn fun!

...

[Ding! You have a new message.]

Another morning.

Yin Jian was just about to play one more game before starting his own development for the day, when his neural interface pinged with a new message.

He opened it.

Yue Ren: Bro Yin, the software’s features have been updated. See if there’s anything else you want changed. [Memory Shield].exe

Yin Jian: That fast? Didn’t you say it would take a month?

Yue Ren: It’s already been a month, hasn’t it?

“…”

Seeing this, Yin Jian glanced at the date.

It was… already the end of September?!!

“What the hell, where did my time go?”

He sucked in a sharp breath.

It felt like he’d only played a few days of games, yet an entire month had vanished.

I must have been hit with some time-erasing magic!

“…This can’t go on,” Yin Jian muttered, rubbing his temples and resolving to play less in the future.

He quickly replied to Yue Ren.

Yin Jian: I’ll check it now.

He downloaded the software, set it up, launched it, and entered the virtual space.

Ten minutes later, his consciousness returned. He ran another check on the memory loading feature.

Satisfied that everything worked perfectly, he exited.

Yin Jian: Perfect!

Yue Ren: By the way, if I have more patents in the future, can I come to you?

Yin Jian: No problem.

Now that the software had the features he wanted, Yin Jian replied cheerfully.

With Yue Ren’s matter settled, he turned his attention to his next game.

“The core of narrative games is actually much like online novels—the most important things are pacing, plot, and the arrangement of satisfying moments…”

As he pondered, he opened the game assistant’s development backend.

He tapped to use one of his hundred-thousand-tier material tokens.

After some thought, and once he’d settled on a game name, he selected a hundred-thousand-tier game engine and began development.

This higher-tier engine was even more comprehensive in its features.

What stunned Yin Jian most was that the hundred-thousand-tier engine could automatically generate the game’s framework and models based on his verbal descriptions.

He’d never imagined making a game could be this easy.

Still, despite the convenience, designing the main characters and writing their dialogue for a story-driven game was an enormous, tedious task—one that took far more time than any other aspect of development.

“This is turning out to be quite a challenge,” he muttered, frowning as he finished scripting another character’s initial dialogue.

He began to consider how to lighten his workload.

At this pace, it would be next year before he finished the game, and that was just the demo portion.

Since it was a free game, he couldn’t release it in parts like other narrative games. At the very least, he had to finish one full main storyline.

After racking his brains for a while and getting nowhere, Yin Jian opened the group chat to consult the others.

You Force Me: Guys, is there any way to make writing character dialogue and actions for a story game less of a slog?

Afro Explosion: Handsome guy pokes his head in.

Eggy Egg: Has the boss started on a new game already? I swear you just finished one—aren’t you a bit too industrious?

Green Hat Landlord: Bro’s started another game? I’ve never made a story game, so I’m not sure. Hold on, I’ll ask around.

Sword Sect Master: There are behavior templates for characters, but they’re pricey—fifty thousand a pop. You can buy one or two for your main characters. If you need a lot, consider strong AI—ten million. If you’re broke, just use dumb AI—one thousand will do.

You Force Me: Sword Sect, you’re a legend!

Sword Sect Master: You, the noob, are a legend!

Eggy Egg: Sword Sect, how’s your game?

Sword Sect Master: It’s on the bestseller list.

Eggy Egg: Wait, didn’t you say yesterday it wasn’t done?

...

Having gotten the answer he needed, Yin Jian stopped chatting and opened the asset library to search for information on character templates.

He quickly found what he was looking for.

The templates were blank by default and required some setup, but nothing too detailed—just a general outline of the character’s personality and background. The system would then automatically evolve the character, and by completion, their behavior would be indistinguishable from the person described.

Staring at the fifty-thousand price tag, Yin Jian didn’t hesitate to order a 999+ for his game.

Whether he could use them all was another matter—but free stuff must be claimed with due enthusiasm!

PS1: Emmm… not writing suspense anymore. I originally wanted to depict a flourishing, diverse game industry, but half the readers dropped off, and I nearly ended the book. I once hoped to be a serious author, but now it seems being a joker suits me better.

PS2: Please vote for me! Monthly votes! Recommendation votes! QWQ