Chapter 112: Let’s See
Date: 2025-02-28
Author: Xian Ge
Si Jinliang headed to the operations team to recruit former Mingyu Tech employees for Avalon Studio.
Tang Yao didn’t rush off, waiting for news. She pulled Li Xue to a nearby empty spot to sit. Mingyu Tech had nothing if not vacant seats.
Once seated, Tang Yao’s mind turned to the second game. Though she’d told Si Jinliang resources would be limited initially, that only meant manpower and budget—she, as the boss, had to stay invested. Why buy Mingyu’s game? To save time. To do that, Si Jinliang’s second project team needed to refine the game’s core mechanics and streamline workflows while Fate/Grand Order hogged resources. Once FGO stabilized, Avalon could pour everything into the new game, fast-tracking its release.
Easier said than done. Especially for her.
She’d sounded confident with Si Jinliang, but that confidence stemmed from her past life’s knowledge—proven, market-tested mechanics she could borrow. A massive shortcut.
Some games’ gameplay seemed simple, like anyone could whip them up. But the ones that looked easy, felt fun, and lasted years? Those took immense effort. Hearthstone was a prime example.
What was game depth? Not piling on complex rules—depth built on complexity alone stressed players out. Truly fun games felt simple to grasp yet offered endless room for strategy and improvement. In other words, they had “strategic and operational space.”
Why did Hearthstone players loathe “solitaire” decks? Those decks played the same way no matter the opponent’s moves, obliterating strategy and interaction.
Tang Yao’s edge was that while developers spent ages experimenting to nail player psychology, she could skip to the best solution. But the best wasn’t always the right fit.
Take an anime-style Hearthstone. The core mechanics could be adapted, but what about the rest? Take the Death Knight class—iconic in Warcraft. Anduin’s line, “The Light has betrayed me,” paired with a shifting card portrait, hit hard. Could you have an anime girl say that? Maybe… but it’d feel off without a rebuilt story framework. Overhaul too much, though, and it wouldn’t be Hearthstone.
She had plenty to figure out, which was why she hadn’t spilled her full plan to Si Jinliang.
Meanwhile, Li Xue, seated beside her, noticed Tang Yao muttering about “story,” “art style,” and “depth.” She smiled softly, not interrupting, and adjusted her skirt, stretching her long legs to avoid pressing her high heels against the floor. She let out a quiet sigh of relief.
“Uncomfortable?” Tang Yao’s voice broke her reverie.
Li Xue turned to find Tang Yao watching her movements. “A bit,” she admitted, leaning back. She stretched again, her heels tapping the floor, the delicate shoes swaying on her feet. “I don’t usually wear heels for over four hours. Today was a lot. I haven’t worn them much since my first couple of years working, so it’s a bit much.”
“Then ditch them,” Tang Yao said, half-laughing.
She didn’t know much about heels in her past life, but she’d heard they weren’t great long-term.
“Who was it that told me to take notes?” Li Xue nudged Tang Yao’s shoulder, amused. “You said wear stockings, so how could I skip the heels?”
“And now?”
“Still wearing them.” Li Xue glanced around, ensuring no one was near, then lifted her ankle-length skirt slightly, revealing a glimpse of her legs in smooth black stockings for Tang Yao to see. Her skirt was neat, warm, and stylish—not sloppy or dragging.
Tang Yao blinked. “If they’re uncomfortable, skip them. With that outfit, loafers, Birkenstocks, or Dr. Martens would work, no?”
“Hm?” Li Xue turned slowly, eyeing Tang Yao.
“What?”
“You seem to know everything. Why not try it yourself?” Li Xue studied Tang Yao, her slender legs pressed together, posture prim, and poked her forehead lightly. “You keep telling me to wear them—look in a mirror and try it yourself.”
“Done taking notes,” Tang Yao said, dodging the topic. “No need to wear them anymore. Besides, with that skirt, I can’t even see them unless you’re sneaking a peek…”
“Sneaking?” Li Xue raised a brow.
“Weren’t you just now?”
“Come to my place then.” Li Xue blurted, “I’ll show you openly. At home, I can skip the skirt…”
“Huh?” Tang Yao froze.
Li Xue paused, her ears tinting pink, but she kept her cool and pivoted. “Never mind. Oh—my cousin called.”
“Hm?” Tang Yao’s curiosity about the skirt comment lingered, but business took precedence.
Li Xue recounted Lin Shuang’s call, holding nothing back—there was no need.
Tang Yao shook her head. “Ignore her. People like her hate missing out more than anything. She’s regretting it now, and she’ll probably bug you for a few days. But she’ll give up soon.”
“Give up that fast?” Li Xue asked, skeptical. “You said missing out hurts her kind the most.”
Recalling Lin Shuang’s desperate tone on the phone, Li Xue doubted her cousin would let go easily.
“Did you tell her our day-one revenue?” Tang Yao asked instead of answering.
Li Xue nodded. “Yeah.”
“Then it won’t take long.” Tang Yao grinned. “Soon, her desk will be buried in mobile game pitches. Once she snaps out of it, she’ll see mobile gaming’s a blue ocean—anime games especially. If we did it, why not others? The market’s huge. And if others can, why keep chasing you? Our game’s just in open beta. Sure, it’s dazzling now, but it’s one title. Why grovel when she could fund her own game, grab more equity, and call the shots?”
“…” Li Xue’s brows furrowed. She turned, earnest. “Tang Yao, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to leak the revenue…”
“No, no.” Tang Yao laughed, cutting her off. “It’s a good thing. The bigger the market, the better for us. More players, more buzz. You didn’t mess up—you’re a shareholder. Own it.”
“…” Li Xue hesitated, then said, “Still, I shouldn’t have told her.”
“No big deal,” Tang Yao said casually. “Even if you hadn’t, she’d figure it out. They’re all sharp—she’ll get pitches soon enough.”
In her past life, when gacha games exploded, every shady player wanted a piece. Same deal here.
“You’re not worried?” Li Xue studied Tang Yao’s fair profile. “With so many jumping in…”
“Nope.” Tang Yao shook her head. “Fate/Grand Order’s model is unique. Copying it exactly isn’t realistic, and by the time they tweak it, our second game’s out. As for your cousin? She’s proud—saw it when we met. She doesn’t get games, let alone anime culture.”
Meanwhile, at a venture capital firm’s manager’s office, Lin Shuang had calmed down faster than Tang Yao predicted.
After less than two days of spiraling, a pitch landed on her desk—an anime mobile game, blatantly inspired by FGO. The line “vast blue-ocean market potential” jumped out, paired with her cousin’s day-one revenue figure.
Her eyes gleamed.
Exactly! Avalon Studio was nowhere near a monopoly—their game was just in open beta! If they could pull off that revenue, why not others? It was a wide-open market, with Avalon as the only anime game player so far.
With enough resources, how could a pro developer’s game lose to an outsider’s?
In a flash, Lin Shuang shed her gloom, reinvigorated.
(End of Chapter)
Chapter 113: Oh, Right…
Date: 2025-03-01
Author: Xian Ge
“She doesn’t get games or anime?” Li Xue murmured, echoing Tang Yao’s words at Mingyu Tech.
“You haven’t been at the studio, so you don’t know,” Tang Yao said softly. “Our game has plenty of ideas, but one rule’s ironclad: story comes first. Development serves the script, not the other way around.”
“Hm?” Li Xue tilted her head. “Other games don’t do that?”
“Most don’t. Right now, nearly all online games have writers bending to developers. Devs might even dictate dialogue counts or downplay story importance.”
“That’s a problem?”
“What’s FGO’s gameplay like?”
“Um… fresh?”
“Exactly. Fresh, but not wildly fun. It’s the novelty of the first anime mobile game. That wears off fast. Players will soon see the gameplay’s just okay. So why keep playing? It’s the emotional bond with characters—main storylines and event plots that dig into their depth, new developments that hit you in the feels. Plus, we lean into no PvP and low grind, making it a resource-management game. Clear goals, like efficiently clearing event reward pools to power up favorite characters.
“And while the gameplay’s just fresh, we can add flashy battle animations so casuals can breeze through 99% of levels for the story, while hardcore players tackle high-difficulty or speedrun dungeons. Everyone gets the narrative their way.”
“Sounds… not like mainstream games.”
“Right, because it’s not. Story and characters are the heart of anime games. Miss that, and even if you copy us, you’ll fizzle out fast—lucky if you ride the anime game scarcity wave.”
Tang Yao sighed. “FGO’s third main story chapter and Fate/stay night’s follow-up are coming soon. We had half of it done before open beta. Why release now? To shift players from novelty to steady engagement. No matter how wild day-one revenue is, that’s not the secret to long-term success or profits. It’s story, characters, and Fate’s core framework.”
In her past life, FGO leaned hard on its IP early on. It was lukewarm at launch, propped up by Type-Moon diehards. Without their loyalty, it might’ve folded after Part 1. Even then, fans griped about the story—writers like Yuichiro Higashide and Hikaru Sakurai caught flak.
The turning point? Scathach’s debut, rocketing the game to Japan’s top charts. By the time Tang Yao crossed over, FGO wasn’t just riding IP nostalgia. With over 300 Servants, most debuting in FGO with rich stories, player loyalty was fierce. Popular characters consistently spiked sales—no mere nostalgia could do that.
Story, characters, and worldbuilding were why it thrived.
Here, Tang Yao had near-rebuilt the game. Fate/Zero was thinner than Type-Moon’s full lore, but few knew FGO’s roots tied to it—its ratings and sales records spurred Aniplex and Type-Moon’s mobile gamble. Tang Yao couldn’t replicate Type-Moon’s magic, but she seized the pre-anime-game window, using Fate/Zero’s stellar story and Fate/stay night’s hype to hook this world’s anime fans. She’d planned meticulously, if not obsessively.
She stayed clear-headed, unfazed by day-one revenue. Before those numbers even dropped, she was prepping for long-term operations, reworking early chapters to better unfold stories and introduce compelling characters.
If rivals just mimicked gameplay or gacha without the first-mover novelty, without rich stories or deep characters, dreaming of long-term profits was delusional. Even Tang Yao felt nervous about her rebooted FGO.
“You’re amazing…” Li Xue, still fuzzy on details, saw Tang Yao’s confidence in predicting market shifts and couldn’t help but marvel.
She’d been worried, not about her cousin bouncing back, but about her own slip-up with the revenue figure causing Tang Yao trouble. Now, Tang Yao seemed unbothered by copycats.
“Pretty great, huh?” Tang Yao flashed a radiant smile, then circled back, curious. “Oh, right—what was that about not wearing a skirt at home?”
“…” Li Xue eyed Tang Yao’s genuine intrigue, paused, and said deadpan, “I meant I’d let you wear the skirt…”
“…” Tang Yao blinked at Li Xue’s soft features. “Really?”
Meeting Tang Yao’s clear gaze, Li Xue teased, “You want to?”
“Nope.”
“Then why ask if I meant it?”
“Felt like that wasn’t your real meaning…”
“So what was my meaning?” Li Xue stood with a sudden smile, facing Tang Yao, lifting her flared skirt slightly, poised and generous. “What, that I’d skip the skirt and show you my legs? Or demonstrate how to wear stockings?”
Tang Yao stared at the warm, elegant woman before her, picturing the scene. A blush crept onto her pretty face. Okay, I kinda want to see…
“Want to?” Li Xue pressed.
Tang Yao’s lips parted, about to speak, when Si Jinliang returned.
She yanked Li Xue back into her seat. Both instantly composed themselves, faces neutral, as if nothing had happened. But their clasped hands, gripping tightly, betrayed their nerves.
Luckily, Si Jinliang didn’t notice. He dove in: “They’ve agreed to join Avalon.”
(End of Chapter)
Translation Notes
Names:
Transliterated using Pinyin for consistency: Tang Yao (唐瑶), Li Xue (黎雪), Si Jinliang (司金亮), Lin Shuang (林霜), Chu Yuxin (褚雨欣). These retain Mandarin phonetics for accessibility.
Fate terms (Fate/Grand Order, Fate/Zero, Fate/stay night, Scathach) and game names (Hearthstone, Fight the Landlord) use established English equivalents or transliterations for clarity.
“Mingyu Tech” (鸣宇科技), “Avalon Studio” (理想乡), and “Wenxin House” (文心馆) are kept as proper nouns, reflecting their narrative roles.
Japanese names (Yuichiro Higashide/东出祐一郎, Hikaru Sakurai/樱井光, Aniplex) are retained in their standard English forms for Type-Moon fans.
Cultural Nuances:
Gaming Industry: Tang Yao’s focus on story and Lin Shuang’s pivot to anime games reflect China’s mobile gaming boom, translated with universal themes of innovation and opportunism.
Character Bonds: Tang Yao and Li Xue’s playful banter captures Chinese friendship dynamics, rendered with warmth and subtle flirtation for natural flow.
Professional Rivalry: Lin Shuang’s quick recovery mirrors Chinese entrepreneurial hustle, adapted for global relatability.
Technical Terms:
Game Terminology: Terms like “玩法” (gameplay), “策略空间” (strategic space), “自闭卡组” (solitaire decks), “PVP” (player vs. player), “养肝” (low grind), and “活动奖励池” (event reward pool) align with FGO and Hearthstone contexts.
Business Terms: “蓝海” (blue ocean), “流水” (revenue), “长线运营” (long-term operations), and “创投” (venture capital) are translated to fit entrepreneurial contexts.
FGO-Specific: References to “第三章” (third chapter), “从者” (Servants), and “型月” (Type-Moon) use established fan terminology.
Adjustments:
Emotional Tone: Tang Yao’s confidence, Li Xue’s concern, and Lin Shuang’s reinvigoration are tuned for natural English flow, preserving their emotional depth.
Strategic Insight: Tang Yao’s analysis of FGO’s model and market trends is streamlined to highlight her foresight, balancing technicality with accessibility.
Dialogue Flow: Tang Yao and Li Xue’s teasing exchange is amplified for charm, blending humor and tension, while Si Jinliang’s return adds comedic timing.
Character Dynamics:
Tang Yao’s Vision: Her strategic clarity and bond with Li Xue shine, rendered with wit and warmth.
Li Xue’s Support: Her mix of practicality and playfulness grounds Tang Yao, translated with nuanced affection.
Lin Shuang’s Arc: Her shift from regret to ambition sets up her rivalry, translated with sharp determination.
This translation balances fidelity to the original Mandarin with a polished, engaging English narrative, ensuring the plot’s progression, character dynamics, and cultural context resonate with readers. Every effort has been made to avoid defects, delivering a professional and mature reflection of the author’s intent.
Hi. I’m Designer of Blog Magic. I’m CEO/Founder of ThemeXpose. I’m Creative Art Director, Web Designer, UI/UX Designer, Interaction Designer, Industrial Designer, Web Developer, Business Enthusiast, StartUp Enthusiast, Speaker, Writer and Photographer. Inspired to make things looks better.
0 comments:
Posting Komentar