Chapter 139: Stubborn Denial
Date: 2025-03-14
Author: Xian Ge
Day-one closed beta user churn hit 80%. Paid conversion was one-sixth the industry average.
Sheng Zhi knew exactly what that meant.
Most players tried the game once and never returned. The conversion rate, benchmarked against PC games, was even more damning in a blue-sea mobile market—it screamed that no one was willing to pay.
This was garbage.
Utter, irredeemable garbage.
At a big studio, such abysmal data would kill a project mid-beta or force a complete overhaul.
But why?
Why was the data this bad?
Wasn’t this a blue-sea market? He didn’t know FGO’s beta numbers, but their public launch raked in nearly 100 million yuan day one!
Why, with a mobile game mimicking FGO’s selling points, was his data so horrific?
What went wrong?
“Why?” Sheng Zhi’s eyes blazed, glaring at the staffer. “Why’s it so bad!? Technical issues? Constant crashes? Poor onboarding?”
“No…” The staffer paused, struggling. “Feedback shows no such issues.”
Sheng Zhi roared, “Then why’s the data trash? What’s the reason? What’re players saying?”
“Based on feedback…” The staffer glanced at Sheng Zhi, then pressed on. “The whole game’s a problem. Beta users hate it—they question everything: gameplay, story, visuals. The only ‘decent’ part is the gacha system, but most won’t pay, saying the characters lack appeal.”
“Lack appeal? Fate/Grand Order had massive day-one revenue!” Sheng Zhi slammed the desk. “Same gameplay! Same model! Why the huge gap?”
The staffer: “…”
He stayed silent.
If Tang Yao encouraged staff input, Sheng Zhi was the opposite—a tyrant ruling his company.
He ignored all suggestions, good or bad, never soothing his team.
He trusted his experience blindly, to a “follow me or perish” extreme.
His “renowned producer” title cemented his one-man rule.
Early on, some shared ideas.
When he shut them down, they stopped talking.
Just a job—pay me, and I’m good. The game’s trash? Not my problem. No dreams of startup glory or equity here.
This company wouldn’t last that long.
Under this mindset, Sheng Zhi’s startup, though new, lacked vitality.
Staff, crushed by his pressure, chose silent compliance, never daring to flag core design flaws.
Now he was asking?
The staffer didn’t know where to start.
He stayed quiet.
Speaking up would just rile him.
Problems?
Obvious to anyone.
Dull story, charmless characters, copied gacha and gameplay without grasping FGO’s soul—rich scripts, historical figures’ emotional weight, stellar character crafting. What did they have? A rushed, budget-slashed imitation of Fate’s art style, oozing cheap knockoff vibes?
Or the flood of non-target users?
Or a tech team that built barebones functions but skipped UI polish, skill effects, or immersive details?
Problems piled high.
Endless.
No point listing them.
Better to say nothing.
Seeing the staffer’s silence, Sheng Zhi was about to erupt when his phone rang.
Spotting the caller’s name, his pupils shrank. Anger paused, he hesitated, then answered.
“Ms. Lin.”
“How’s it going?” Lin Shuang’s voice was flat, emotionless.
“Uh… things are fine,” Sheng Zhi forced out. “Minor issues, but I’ll fix them soon…”
“Minor issues?” Lin Shuang’s fingers tapped the desk, eyeing a report’s glaring data. “You mean the 80% user churn by day two?”
Dead silence on the line.
“Do you actually understand how anime games work?” Lin Shuang’s true emotions surfaced, her voice spiking with fury. “You think you know? FGO’s leveraging ANF’s anime ecosystem for precise user acquisition! You’re still stuck on traditional ad buys, pulling non-target users, and you had the gall to say they don’t get games or the market!
“I say you don’t get it! Know ANF? Know FGO’s on mainstream social platforms? Know big investors are eyeing Avalon, FGO’s studio?
“Avalon’s building an ecosystem! You’re using outdated tricks, forcing a beta during their update window, calling it ‘deliberate’! And now? Got your target users? Good data?”
“I…” Sheng Zhi faltered, embarrassed, then mumbled, “It’s an accident…”
“Still stubborn! An accident? I was blind to back a so-called star producer like you! Did you even track your rival? Do you know what they’ve done lately!?”
Lin Shuang cut him off, her voice so loud a nearby staffer overheard.
“I…”
“Go look! Study FGO! Stop being an idiot! Avalon’s boss and producer is a girl barely 20! Don’t let a kid outshine you!”
Lin Shuang’s rage wasn’t just at Sheng Zhi. “Don’t think youth means naive! She’s sharper than you can imagine! If you don’t get it, learn! Learn!”
“…” Sheng Zhi’s eyes widened, lips trembling.
He wanted to ask but didn’t dare.
“Stop the beta now!
“Hire a pro narrative team—light novelists or playwrights—to rebuild the main story, focus on core experience! Characters! Plot! That’s the key, not your MMO nonsense!
“Scrap the game! I want a plan in three days! If it’s not good, you’re out! Project’s dead!”
“Wait, Ms. Lin…” Sheng Zhi’s eyes bulged, trying to speak.
Lin Shuang hung up.
The beep-beep-beep echoed.
Sheng Zhi froze, while the eavesdropping staffer lowered his tiptoes and slipped away.
Serves him right.
Catching the staffer’s retreating back, Sheng Zhi slowly set down his phone, face flushing with rage and shock.
Did Avalon kill Lin Shuang’s mom or something? That much fury??
Fine!
He’d see what FGO did!
He admitted his game had issues, but did they have to trash everything about him?
Learn?
Fuming, he hurled his phone down, grabbed the mouse, and searched for Fate/Grand Order.
(End of Chapter)
Chapter 140: Quite the Joke
Date: 2025-03-14
Author: Xian Ge
Half an hour later, Sheng Zhi’s trembling hand clutched the mouse, cursor hovering over ANF’s homepage.
He stared at the Rin Tohsaka × ANF tie-in video, dumbfounded.
They could… do that?
The video’s 2 million views, the comment section’s fan frenzy—then switching to the homepage, drowned in FGO promos and chaotic fan works—left him speechless.
He checked mainstream social platforms. Seeing everyone tie mobile games, especially anime ones, to FGO, cold sweat trickled down his spine.
He was drenched.
At his old studio or now, he’d never imagined this approach.
Clearly, they took a different path.
One of rich world-building, character emotional value, and a “pay-for-love” community culture.
Gameplay could be copied.
Emotional resonance? Unreplicable.
His game’s characters couldn’t rival FGO’s.
They weren’t even in the same league.
Forget the dimension-breaking Rin Tohsaka—just other Servants. On ANF, he saw fan works galore: cosplay, fiction, hand-drawn videos.
FGO wasn’t even animated yet.
Hand-drawn videos—frame-by-frame art for a character.
Would his players do that?
No.
Few players anywhere would.
Content-wise, FGO’s main story, manga sequels, and side content built emotional resonance, amplified by creator support programs, rooting fan culture. Players churned out art, stories, videos, expanding influence.
Channel-wise, ANF’s user base fueled relentless game promos, sniping target players.
This was an ecosystem in the making.
A dimensional curb-stomp.
And worst of all…
Scrolling down, Sheng Zhi’s face paled, watching FGO videos on ANF. A comment under one—“Wow, played a trash game called Destiny Day. It’s just copying FGO!”—shattered him.
ANF’s state, FGO’s site dominance, tore through his arrogant facade.
He saw it now.
The userbase!
Anime mobile games’ core spenders were anime fans—core and casual.
ANF gathered all core fans! The Rin video pulled in most casual ones too!
They were the target audience!
Even if he fixed his game, he’d need ANF ads!
An FGO knockoff advertising on ANF?
Hahaha…
Sheng Zhi slumped, eyes dull, staring at the screen.
His limited experience told him copying FGO was a dead end.
ANF was a wall in his path.
Soon, all anime games might pay ANF for promos.
MMO-style mass ad buys worked… but for anime games, ANF was a must.
FGO and ANF were symbiotic.
A new-gen producer’s dimensional dominance.
“…Thinking this far, under 20? You kidding me!” he muttered, voice bitter.
Meanwhile, at Yan Jin Ventures, Lin Shuang tossed her phone, rubbing her temples, visibly agitated.
Her frustration stemmed from regret.
What Sheng Zhi saw, she saw too.
The day she opened ANF and saw that tie-in page, she knew.
Sheng Zhi’s theories were nonsense.
She’d clung to a sliver of hope—maybe, with his “star producer” status.
No maybe.
The results were brutal.
Sheng Zhi’s game drew the wrong users, with rotten data.
FGO, via ANF, soared in buzz.
Studying ANF, she saw it pivoting to a mobile game distribution channel.
It was already succeeding.
Thanks to FGO, ANF was packed with anime game target users.
That trumped a mere cash-cow game.
And both FGO and ANF were Avalon Studio’s.
They had the game and the channel.
She could’ve invested in both!
FGO aside, that site—suddenly in investors’ sights! She’d greenlit the founder’s equity buyback!
Yes, she’d confirmed: Tang Yao acquired all of ANF.
Seeing AnimationFan and Fate/Grand Order trend, her mind blanked.
She was stunned.
Hearing big capital eyeing Avalon, she could barely breathe from regret.
Millions!
A few million could’ve changed everything!
Regret, pure regret.
That’s why she’d exploded—her self-justifications felt so flimsy.
Anime games were a blue sea, sure.
But not everyone was that girl named Tang Yao.
She’d misjudged.
Tang Yao’s deep game industry insight and market savvy were proven.
She could do it.
Others? Not so much.
That “star producer” Sheng Zhi proved it.
A misstep.
Lin Shuang had misjudged before.
But never regretted this much.
The regret drove her, shame aside, to contact her cousin again.
“No, no, I don’t need money. The site’s sold… To who? No comment! Make a rival? No way!”
“No investment! I don’t own ANF shares anymore.”
“Nope! Really!”
“No meetings!”
At Avalon Studio, Cai Quan’s phone hadn’t stopped since morning.
The callers? Investors who’d once brushed him off. They knew ANF, had met him before.
Now, they rushed to pitch investments.
Financial firms lent umbrellas in sun, took them in rain.
Investors were similar.
When ANF was half-dead, no one cared. Now, seeing it thrive, they swarmed.
Hearing Cai Quan sold the site, they even asked if he’d start another.
They saw ANF’s edge as an anime game channel.
In that moment, Cai Quan tasted the “thirty years east, thirty years west” reversal.
But he stayed clear-headed, ignoring their flattery.
Hanging up another call, he glanced at the figure by Kang Ming, monitoring the new version’s launch, and shook his head.
He knew exactly who made ANF what it was.
Start another site?
Haha.
Quite the joke.
Compete with Tang Yao?
(End of Chapter)
Translation Notes
Names:
Transliterated using Pinyin for consistency: Sheng Zhi (盛至), Lin Shuang (林霜), Tang Yao (唐瑶), Cai Quan (蔡全), Kang Ming (康鸣). These retain Mandarin phonetics for accessibility.
Fate terms (Fate/Grand Order, Rin Tohsaka) use established English equivalents for fan clarity.
“Avalon Studio” (理想乡), “ANF” (AnimationFan), “Destiny Day” (命运之日), “Yan Jin Ventures” (演进创投) are kept as proper nouns, reflecting their narrative roles.
Cultural Nuances:
Anime Culture: ANF’s ecosystem and FGO’s fan-driven success reflect China’s anime fandom, translated with universal themes of community and emotional investment.
Workplace Dynamics: Sheng Zhi’s tyranny vs. Tang Yao’s leadership mirrors Chinese startup contrasts, rendered with stark authoritarianism and charisma.
Investment Culture: Lin Shuang’s regret and Cai Quan’s reversal highlight China’s venture capital frenzy, translated with relatable ambition and hindsight.
Technical Terms:
Gaming Terms: “封测” (closed beta), “用户流失率” (user churn), “付费转化率” (paid conversion), “二创” (fan works), and “立绘” (character art) fit gaming contexts.
Marketing Terms: “精准获客” (precise user acquisition), “买量渠道” (ad buy channels), and “生态矩阵” (ecosystem matrix) align with digital marketing.
Business Terms: “蓝海” (blue sea), “护城河” (moat), and “联运渠道” (distribution channel) reflect industry jargon.
Adjustments:
Emotional Tone: Sheng Zhi’s denial, Lin Shuang’s fury, and Cai Quan’s clarity are tuned for natural English flow, preserving emotional stakes.
Strategic Clarity: Avalon’s ecosystem vs. Sheng Zhi’s failure is highlighted to drive the plot’s stakes.
Dialogue Flow: Lin Shuang’s tirade, fan comments, and Sheng Zhi’s muttering add intensity and humor, balancing technicality with narrative drive.
Character Dynamics:
Sheng Zhi’s Hubris: His refusal to learn leads to collapse, rendered with stubborn arrogance.
Lin Shuang’s Regret: Her missed opportunity fuels her rage, translated with raw frustration.
Tang Yao’s Triumph: Her unseen presence looms large, reflected through others’ awe, translated with subtle dominance.
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.
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