Chapter 1: Regression

Chapter 1: Regression

I thought deeply.

Should I be glad that I've discovered the true face of the person I thought was my friend, or should I be sad?

"You are in trouble. You are too stubborn. What was it you said? Art pursuit? Masterpiece obsession? You are too innocent.You still believe that pushing for artistic value will lead to profits through gameplay. They say that the business division gets excited just hearing the name Cheon Yeonho."

"Wow, you're being pretty harsh, Chief."

"It's the truth. Anyway, it's annoying. We have to start a new project again."

"Oh, the one which he got assigned?"

"What can I do? He asked me to do it. You guys messed up big time again."

In the end, I came to the conclusion that I should "quietly leave."

That guy was the candidate for director who had successfully completed three major projects, while I was the troublemaker who left ambiguous results on the projects I handled.

For example, no matter how hard I tried, the picture turned out ugly.

There was always a saying I heard.

"Yeonho, what on earth do you mean by proposing an inoperable system? Huh? How are we supposed to run a game that only uses in-game currency? Where is the development cost going to come from?"

The claim that my game lacked commercial viability.

"Core users? Great! The ranch must be vast for cash cows to be sturdy. But cash cows can't survive on this ranch. Why? Because even if they want to graze, there's no grass to eat! This is a weedlesss field!"

The claim that the game doesn't understand the users' needs.

"Is this fixed? I don't see a place for random items. Revise it again!"

The directive to align with the company's policies.

I willingly followed.

I was a company employee, and I was also the responsible person leading the projects.

This was the result:

"Sigh... Yeonho, let's stop here for this project. It's in the red."

"I'm sorry. I'll work hard."

"You always just work hard. You should do well."

When I tailored things to their taste, they'd complain that it tasted bad.

There was always a phrase I kept inside.

"Games don't sell because they're not fun."

In a game where I only thought about how to sell from the planning stage to completion, what kind of fun did they expect players to feel?

Is spending money fun? Spending money needs to be enjoyable too.

Even when I carefully crafted the design documents, they were torn apart, leaving only the payment screen. What should I do?

They came up with this result after dissecting the game, but it still wasn't clear whose fault it was.

Maybe I should have said that.

Now, I'm not sure anymore.

I haven't achieved anything according to my wishes, yet the responsibility is mine.

The words about keeping the essence of the game intact turned me into an enthusiast for art and masterpieces.

I just keep thinking.

"What on earth am I doing?"

This treatment, this environment—what did I want to do surrounded by these?

As the recollections continued, the dilemma deepened, and it became a sickness of the heart.

The name of the sickness was doubt.

"Could I really be wrong?"

Is the ultimate goal of a game really just about profit?

Is the business model more important than the game's systems?

Have I been ignoring that fact alone?

Was I really an outsider in a town of normal people?

"Believing that profits will rise if you emphasize gameplay."

Those words didn't leave my mind.

Even though I had many arguments to counter them, I couldn't easily do it.

I felt like a naive adult, lost in a dream and unable to see reality.

The thought that the path I had believed in all my life might end in a cliff was eating away at me.

I had to make a decision.

Whether to accept that I might be wrong like that guy said, or to continue believing in myself till the end.

In the midst of it all, I realized that I was, in fact, as stubborn as he said.

"Quit my job?"

"Sure."

"Yeah, let's hear the reasons. Why?"

"I want to take on solo game development."

"···Ah, solo game development. Nice. It's romantic. You'll do well. I'll support you. Let me know when you release it."

"Sure."

The moment I mentioned quitting my job, the eyes that used to hold a strange disdain now showed a hint of delight.

Those eyes seemed to be saying.

-Just by looking at you, it's clear you're going to fail.

As if defying that, I thought to myself.

"No."

"Award ceremony is today, right? You're probably on a plane right now! Have a safe flight!"

It was the voice of a team member who had been in touch until the end.

As I listened, my head began to spin.

Upon reflection, it seemed I had been like that recently.

Although I should have taken a flight like asked, my body didn't have the strength for it.

"...Thank you."

The moment I stood up from my seat.

Ding—!

Dizziness struck.

No, it was more than that.

My vision turned white, and I felt my breath stop.

It was clearly a sensation signalling the end of an activity, even stronger than before.

'Ah.'

Crash!

I couldn't catch my falling body.

All that remained was a gasping collapse to the ground.

"[C-Chief...?]"

The voice grew distant.

My field of vision was tainted black.

My consciousness faded.

My breathing ceased.

Gradually, the end arrived.

"[Chief! Chief!!!]"

Death from overwork.

It was the ultimate fate of a fool who tormented himself in pursuit of validation.

***

A hallucinogenic effect caused by brain's chemical reactions.

Such a thought came to mind, but I immediately rejected it.

Instinctively, I could realize.

I had fallen into Hell.

Aaah!!!

Countless screams and laughter were mixed in a scene that unfolded before my eyes.

It was a world I couldn't possibly comprehend based on my common sense.

Well, a world that incessantly expanded and contracted, transforming the scenery every time, didn't exist within the dimensions I knew.

I saw sinners spread out on the crimson ground, twisted and contorted.

I saw sinners becoming their own idols, hanging on crosses, and sinners endlessly being killed by lives they had taken.

I saw sinners turning into possessed demons, tearing each other apart, and sinners crying out and praying in distant tranquillity.

I saw countless other things.

During that moment, not even once did I recall why I was there.

"I have to look."

Captivated by the strange sense of duty to just take all of this in with my eyes, I tormented my memory.

It was clear that I had gone insane.

Even though none of it was under my will, even though not a single thing was anything other than horrifying, even though it was a form that infinitely stimulated the fears imagined by humans.

Yet, at the moment when I finally managed to take it all in,

"Wow..."

I felt excitement, not fear.

Thump, my heart pounded.

More intensely than when I was alive, even though I was already dead.

It was an excitement akin to meeting one's first love again.

I might not have known that I was being punished for killing myself in order to make a game.

No, it was clear.

If that was the case, there was no way to explain the insatiable thirst blooming now.

I just thought.

"I want to create."

I wanted to capture this world in the form of a game.

I thought it would be so much fun if it were turned into a game.

Ideas overflowed.

As I had my whole life, I dressed the informational imprints in my brain with game-like systems.

Like a massive tidal wave, it shook my reason.

And then, the space in front of me turned pitch black.

"Yeonho! Wake up from your sleep!"

That was the last moment I remembered from Hell.

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