Chapter 157: Development Model
Date: 2025-03-25
Author: Xian Ge
In game development, granting developers too much autonomy often leads to chaos, with projects spiraling out of control.
Every team member believes their ideas are golden.
Not every company is Nintendo.
Their EPD headquarters can afford high autonomy, with gameplay execution at peak efficiency, because most staff have worked together for over a decade. Even during the Wii U’s heavy losses, layoffs were never considered.
Most studios assign specific tasks, then piece them together into a game.
Creativity? Usually, core staff gather input from others, then brainstorm.
Letting everyone freely contribute risks disorder, potentially collapsing the team.
Tang Yao hadn’t initially considered this, but newcomer Lu Xuehai’s questions woke her up.
For game development, Avalon needed a structured, practical management model.
Not that she’d stifle suggestions or creativity.
Those were essential.
Tang Yao knew her past-life memories let her move fast, not rest easy. Even the legendary games from her previous world had flaws—no game was perfect.
Many “perfect” masterpieces scored 10/10 not for flawlessness but for being landmarks—genre-defining, satisfying most players in their niche.
Take 2023’s Baldur’s Gate 3 or The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom.
Scrutinized, both had issues.
Online games, with constant updates, were even trickier.
Post-Blackrock Mountain, Hearthstone’s “Grand Tournament” version scored poorly, introducing the Joust mechanic.
It never became a hallmark.
Tang Yao skipped it for that reason. Knowing the issue was one thing, but she couldn’t fix it alone—only set a direction.
That’s where team brainstorming came in.
But brainstorming didn’t mean chaotic, anytime suggestions.
So, she proposed the Skeleton Development Model, with principles: Core Loop First! Modular Layered Design! Toolchain Support.
This played to her strengths.
The model prioritized the core gameplay loop, ensuring the core experience.
Tang Yao’s proposed games had rock-solid core mechanics.
Her presence let the team test gameplay viability at minimal cost.
Take Card Clash. Initially, she didn’t need others’ input.
They had to build the core gameplay first.
So, phase one—prototyping—banned anything beyond the game’s essence. Card Clash had ready assets, reusable from the prior game, saving time and resources.
First, nail the core gameplay, leaving room for designers to iterate on visuals and experiments, streamlining for mass production later.
Only then came content filling, modular division, and tuning.
Without a core, all talk was just castles in the air.
“Skeleton Development?” Si Jinliang eyed Tang Yao.
“Yup.” Tang Yao nodded. “Develop like this from now on. Early on, the top goal is core gameplay validation. For Card Clash, first use existing assets to build a prototype showcasing the core. Then test gameplay depth and peripheral system integration.
“Like, which cards are too strong, which need tweaks, or your ideas—once the prototype’s done and the core’s validated, bring them up at weekly meetings.
“Convince me, and you can even overhaul my core gameplay.
“Also, run internal playtests to check sustainability and scalability, weeding out mediocre designs.
“It’s all in there. Your team will develop Card Clash this way and test its feasibility. If it works, all company games will follow this model.”
“…” Si Jinliang blinked, then skimmed the documents Tang Yao handed him.
It was a full game development framework.
Not a unique industry template, but tailored to Card Clash’s needs and Avalon’s Tang Yao-centric environment.
Detailed.
Very detailed.
It covered phase divisions, control strategies, creativity management, layered decision-making, cross-functional collaboration…
Beyond standard stuff, it included newer ideas: producers as creative gatekeepers for design consistency, highly customized toolchains.
They could even develop in-house tools to boost content production.
Tools could tie deeply to gameplay.
Tang Yao, in her past life, was loosely a developer—art-focused, but she’d studied this. Most studios she knew couldn’t pull it off.
Si Jinliang’s takeaway?
…She knows this too?
Honestly, this model preserved creative exploration while curbing risks with rigid frameworks, managing creativity with engineering precision—not stifling inspiration like an assembly line. It was like reining in a wild horse, not to limit its run, but to make it gallop farther.
If Mingyu Tech had someone with this vision, maybe Card Clash wouldn’t have flopped.
With that, Si Jinliang looked at the girl before him… utterly convinced.
He closed the documents solemnly. “Got it.”
Tang Yao nodded softly. “Thanks for the hard work. Review it first. I’ll have Miss Li reorganize your team later. The core group will be me, you, Chu Yuxin, and Kang Ming for now. Inform the others, and we’ll hold a meeting this afternoon.”
“Alright.”
Hearing her confirmation, Tang Yao hurried back to her desk.
She was swamped.
Si Jinliang watched her go, then turned to brief the team.
Most had no objections.
Only Lu Xuehai, catching the implications, looked sheepish.
He specifically asked Si Jinliang for Tang Yao’s documents. Seeing “prioritize core experience,” he knew… he’d triggered this.
“Hm? What’s up?” Si Jinliang noticed his odd expression.
“Nothing.” Lu Xuehai shook his head, too embarrassed to admit his basic questions prompted the boss to craft a targeted development model.
But seeing Tang Yao’s model, suited to Avalon’s reality, he was certain: this company revolved around that startlingly young girl.
Incredible…
So young, yet so talented.
Her staff’s simple questions led her to spot development flaws and swiftly propose a stellar solution.
Lu Xuehai had a hunch: with this model, the game would take shape at breakneck speed!
If she could do this now, where would this company go?
A top-tier studio?
Haha.
…No way, right?
(End of Chapter)
Chapter 158: Fragmented Narrative?
Date: 2025-03-25
Author: Xian Ge
Tang Yao’s development model won unanimous approval at the afternoon meeting.
That same day, the Card Clash team restructured.
The core group was set.
The team began step one: per Tang Yao’s pitch, building the skeleton, crafting a prototype, and locking in core gameplay.
It wasn’t hard.
Most team members had worked on Card Clash before. Tang Yao stressed: during prototyping, focus solely on gameplay, using all assets from the old game.
This saved tons of time.
With Tang Yao providing the game framework, core rules, and card sets upfront, the team had a clear grasp of the game’s structure. Even Kang Ming, less familiar, caught up fast with help from Si Jinliang and other TCG veterans.
Card Clash’s gameplay began transforming rapidly.
Other modules progressed in parallel.
Like confirming visuals and story.
Though slower than gameplay, these lagged.
Without World of Warcraft’s lore, pinning down art style was tough.
This also made the game’s story a hurdle.
Si Jinliang and Chu Yuxin suggested using the Fate series’ world, aligning card designs to Fate’s setting.
It’d save effort and leverage their flagship game’s hype, aiding IP management.
But Tang Yao had other thoughts.
“Not quite…” In the meeting room, Tang Yao, after a moment’s thought, shook her head. “The Fate series centers on Holy Grail Wars, which doesn’t mesh with many card designs.”
She was honest.
She couldn’t see how the two would fit.
Type-Moon’s world was vast and complex.
But it focused on modern Holy Grail Wars.
Completely different from Warcraft.
Forget the rest—how do you fit giant dragons into Fate? Tang Yao drew a blank.
Worse, using Fate’s world meant most characters needed historical prototypes.
Fate was about heroic spirits, after all.
That thought gave Tang Yao a heart palpitation.
Yikes.
She didn’t want to keel over.
FGO still needed her.
“Any better ideas?” Si Jinliang and Chu Yuxin, cooling from their initial Fate excitement, exchanged looks and asked.
“Hm…” Tang Yao mused, stumped.
She didn’t know what to do…
Warcraft, huh?
Did she need to make an MMORPG first?
Unrealistic. The company wasn’t big enough to take that risk.
And Warcraft’s lore wasn’t built overnight. Twenty years, with sprawling plots and nested pitfalls—it’d take forever.
Come to think of it, many later Hearthstone players hadn’t played Warcraft… and still loved it.
Some even learned Warcraft’s story through Hearthstone, shaping character perceptions.
Take Anduin, the prime example.
Stormwind’s king, the Alliance’s hope, yet in Hearthstone, he’s the poster child for stealing—Mind Vision, Mind Control, wow…
So, while Hearthstone used Warcraft’s lore, it ran on a separate track.
Later, Warcraft became Hearthstone’s story mine…
After all, Hearthstone players were there to play cards.
Hm? Separate tracks, players focused on cards…
A spark hit Tang Yao. She looked up. “What about… fragmented narrative!?”
“Huh?” Chu Yuxin and Si Jinliang blinked. “…Fragmented narrative?”
“Yup.” Tang Yao’s eyes sparkled. “Basically, provide just the main storyline trunk and some detailed bits, letting players piece together their own understanding like a puzzle.”
It hit her: since Hearthstone prioritized gameplay over story, why not use fragmented narrative?
Fragmented narrative was a clever plot workaround. As she said, give the main trunk and select details, cutting story investment costs while giving players a sense of discovery and involvement, avoiding backlash from heavy-handed plots.
Of course, it wasn’t foolproof. Good fragmented narrative required creators to control the story, with a solid world and script. Contradictory fragments would defeat the purpose.
Players weren’t fools—they’d spot lazy patchwork.
But Tang Yao was a Warcraft veteran. She didn’t know every plot detail but grasped the world and setting.
Plus, every Hearthstone card had flavor text.
Through flavor text, entry lines, attack lines, heroes, and later adventure modes, she could slowly unfurl Warcraft’s story behind Card Clash.
Take the Death Knight expansion. Adventure mode, the Lich King legendary’s flavor text, Silver Hand Knight’s neutral legendary text, and Arthas’s Paladin hero lines could tell the tale of this filial son.
Why did he fall? How did Lordaeron’s heir become the Lich King?
Card flavor texts, adventure mode stories, and legendary interaction lines could gradually reveal the truth, letting curious players dig into the lore.
Limited by card game mechanics, the truth might be player-interpreted.
But Tang Yao thought it viable!
It avoided forcing an ill-fitting story, kept the world cohesive, and preserved IP expansion potential!
Fragmentation meant no single answer.
With buildup, future Warcraft-based content could even draw from the card game!
A bit rebellious… but a solid plan.
Plus, fragmented narrative freed the art style from constraints.
The more Tang Yao thought, the more it clicked.
“Uh… how’s it work?” Si Jinliang and Chu Yuxin, exchanging confused looks, didn’t quite get it.
Seeing their faces, Tang Yao explained with an example. “Like, for the Priest hero Anduin, we set him as Stormwind’s king, the Alliance’s high king, supreme commander of its armies…”
Meanwhile, as Tang Yao poured her heart into the card game, ANF bore fruit from Li Xue’s efforts.
The anime acquisition event?
ANF users were fired up… the page even crashed once.
Cai Quan couldn’t help but laugh.
But for lasting impact, the manga section’s million-yuan creation fund event stole the show.
As the world’s first anime game, FGO was played by most mangaka, many even drawing FGO fan art.
Established mangaka, due to magazine strategies, eyed the game closely.
Magazines wanted mobile game profits too. In this world, FGO sprang from Fate/Zero.
Which magazine didn’t have pillar titles?
If Fate/Zero worked, why not theirs?
Many famous manga IPs had already been sold.
This tied directly to big mangaka, so they tracked FGO’s moves.
Now, ANF’s massive move—luring mangaka to submit, with top works potentially tying to FGO for revenue shares—hit the manga world like a small nuke!
(End of Chapter)
Translation Notes
Names:
Transliterated using Pinyin for consistency: Tang Yao (唐瑶), Si Jinliang (司金亮), Chu Yuxin (褚雨欣), Kang Ming (康鸣), Lu Xuehai (陆学海), Li Xue (黎雪), Cai Quan (蔡全). These retain Mandarin phonetics for accessibility.
Game titles (Card Clash for 斗牌, FGO, Fate/Zero), studio names (Avalon Studio for 理想乡, Mingyu Tech for 鸣宇科技), and site (ANF for AnimationFan) use established or context-appropriate English equivalents.
Character and card names (e.g., Anduin for 安度因, Lich King for 巫妖王, Arthas for 阿尔萨斯, Silver Hand Knight for 白银之手骑士) align with Hearthstone/Warcraft terminology.
Cultural Nuances:
Game Development: The Skeleton Development Model reflects Chinese startup pragmatism, translated with universal studio dynamics (e.g., Nintendo’s EPD as a global benchmark).
Anime/Manga Culture: ANF’s events and FGO’s influence mirror China’s anime boom, rendered with relatable fan and industry hype (e.g., “small nuke” for industry shock).
Storytelling: Fragmented narrative draws from Hearthstone’s lore-light approach, explained with accessible gaming context.
Technical Terms:
Game Development: “核心循环” (core loop), “模块化分层设计” (modular layered design), “工具链” (toolchain), “原型制作” (prototyping), “玩法验证” (gameplay validation), “创意守门人” (creative gatekeeper), and “内容生产效率” (content production efficiency) align with industry jargon.
Story Terms: “碎片化叙事” (fragmented narrative), “剧情大主干” (main storyline trunk), “世界观设定” (world setting), “冒险模式” (adventure mode), and “登场台词” (entry lines) reflect narrative craft.
Manga Industry: “百万创作基金” (million-yuan creation fund), “同人图” (fan art), “IP授权” (IP licensing), and “分成” (revenue shares) fit creative markets.
Adjustments:
Technical Clarity: The Skeleton Development Model and fragmented narrative are explained vividly, balancing accessibility for non-gamers and depth for enthusiasts.
Emotional Tone: Tang Yao’s ingenuity, Si Jinliang’s awe, and Lu Xuehai’s realization are tuned for natural English flow, preserving emotional stakes.
Dialogue Flow: Tang Yao’s examples, team confusion, and ANF’s hype add clarity and warmth, grounding technical plot points.
Character Dynamics:
Tang Yao’s Vision: Her development and narrative solutions shine, rendered with confident brilliance.
Team Reactions: Si Jinliang and Chu Yuxin’s confusion, and Lu Xuehai’s sheepishness, underscore her impact, translated with relatable awe.
Li Xue’s Success: Her ANF efforts, though secondary, hint at her growing role, translated with subtle competence.
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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