Chapter 2: Art Directo (1)

Chapter 2: Art Directo (1)

I pride myself on having a deep fascination with fantasy.

And that's not entirely untrue.

My profession is a game director.

To imagine, plan, set, and materialize things that don't exist in reality, you need a considerable amount of resources... in other words, input.

So, I've grown up consuming popular mediums like games, movies, comics, and novels.

From my perspective,

"Yeonho! How long are you going to stay in your room!"

I regressed.

Back to the past, to an autumn day in 2008, just after I had finished my military service.

To my fresh, 22-year-old self.

Surprisingly, the end of Hell was the past.

Not being perplexed by the current situation, it would be a lie.

At the moment of death, I was undoubtedly a 41-year-old middle-aged man.

I retired in 2023, and my self-developed game received recognition in 2027, which should be about right.

I couldn't dismiss those memories as dreams.

I was clearly existing in the future, and there were means to prove that this future was a reality.

"Ah! Giant's defeat!!!"

"Ah, damn it! Those damn bastards lost again! Lost again! I'm an idiot for believing them!"

"Why are you so mad about it?"

"Damn it! If I watch baseball again, I'm not a human!"N0v3lRealm was the platform where this chapter was initially revealed on N0v3l.B1n.

My father's exclamation, a Busan native and a fervent baseball fan, echoed outside again.

During the 2008 postseason, the team my father supported stepped onto that glorious stage after a long time, carrying fans' expectations, only to betray those expectations and face defeat.

The events unfolded just as I remembered.

What more proof could I need?

Apart from that, the unfortunate future where my father would continue supporting that team for 20 years, proving himself to be an unfortunate fan, and my time-traveling were firmly established facts.

By now, there was nothing surprising about it.

If regression was real, then so was Hell.

If you think about it the other way around, if Hell exists in reality, what's to say time travel is impossible?

There was no reason to turn away from the impending reality.

I just had to accept it humbly.

That was the moment I made up my mind.

I began to immerse myself in a single task, forgetting about time.

Square - square -

Drawing with a pencil on a fresh A4 paper was a scene from Hell that I hadn't forgotten.

The mere act of recalling it made my heart race as if I were crazy, a fragment of an extraordinary world.

If I were to turn those moments into a game, it would be so much fun.

I wanted to share that scene.

That desire stimulated the pathological obsession that had once dominated my past self.

I felt impatient.

I was afraid that this sentiment might fade away, that this awe and memory might wither with time.

With such a fear looming in despair, I could only dedicate myself to recording that world, even if it meant cutting back on sleep.

Not just ending with pictures, I documented everything in text, including annotations and object elements that composed that hell.

Throughout the process, my young mind rolled forward like it was well-lubricated.

It was a step toward sculpting the landscape into the form of a game.

The genre of the game? No of games?

The direction of planning and the performance level that could be achieved?

How much money do I have?

Time! How much time would it take?

The calculator spun relentlessly.

Finding the point where reality and the ideal gradually converged and meshed, while narrowing the dissonance between them.

After roughly drafting the project and finishing the calculations,

"I can't take it anymore."

I could see myself in such a state of thirst that I couldn't hold back any longer.

I went to the bathroom to wash my face in order to calm down, but the thirst and excitement didn't subside.

In the mirror, I saw myself smiling mischievously.

Even if I had gone mad, there was nothing to say.

I just had to accept it.

It was quite a willing task.

The excitement that ignites creative desire is a stimulus that won't fade away no matter how many years pass.

Only then did my resolution take shape.

"Let's do it."

I was able to do it.

However, a new horror that isn't confined to just fear.

Combining it with other genres was the way to go.

"There have been successful cases already."

From the romantic 90s to the present, there are globally beloved horror IPs.

There will be horror IPs that will start to gain love in the future.

Each one has had the impact of becoming movies, TV shows, or even social phenomena, and all of them have attempted to combine horror with other genres. Among them, the most major combination is none other than this.

"Survival horror."

"Action."

Not just lingering in fear, but a genre that involves facing them head-on and overcoming them.

A genre through which you can achieve excitement.

Survival horror action was one of the most popular horror formulas of the 21st century.

"There's something suitable."

I immediately sifted through my gathered materials and pulled out a file.

Because the idea of what hell suited this genre came to mind immediately.

It was a hell with very intuitive rules.

A smirk appeared on my face.

"This is it."

The background for my first game in this life would be the "Hell of the Self Harm."

There was a realization I had while wandering through hell.

That the sins referred to on that land have different standards than the laws of the mortal world.

The "Hell of the Self Harm," one of the many hells, was a world that vividly displayed this sense of otherworldliness.

"What did I do wrong―!"

The prisoners there often said this.

It was indeed accurate.

Because, according to human laws, their sins had parts that were difficult to express as sins.

The sins that the hell referred to were one.

Neglecting to take care of one's own body.

And thus, driving oneself to death.

...That place might have been the hell I fell into.

"I haven't harmed anyone else! Aaaargh!!!"

One of the sinners died from excessive drinking.

Another's lungs rotted from smoking.

That's rather cute.

There was a drug addict.

A masochist, and a self-harming addict.

Then there was one, the gravely ill patient who had done all of those things.

He always said, "It's my own body! I should be able to do whatever I want with it!"

He wondered why he had to suffer so much when all he did was treat his own body as he pleased.

But the supervisor didn't respond to the man's words.

More accurately, he was in a state where he couldn't respond.

With pale blue skin devoid of a single strand of hair, a gaunt figure, and black nails.

These were the distinctive features of the supervisor that were immediately visible, and if you looked closely, you could see the reason for his impotence.

The supervisor's eyes and mouth were sewn shut.

His nose looked as if it had been sliced with a knife, and a large nail was driven through his ear.

These symbols represented the absence of communication.

They executed torture mechanically by blocking all senses.

Pushing prisoners into that position of suffering where no matter how much they screamed, the pain wouldn't stop.

Maybe they didn't even realize that they were saying, "Feel the despair that you would have felt when your body was being tormented," in a way.

In any case, what I drew from that game as inspiration was none other than that.

"How long do you think you'll keep suffering like this!!! Everyone!!! Let's take down those blue monsters!!!"

One day, a man attempted to liberate the prisoners.

He was the man who had committed the greatest sin in this hell that I had previously mentioned.

I watched the man's coup d'état from start to finish.

The prisoners and the supervisors engaged in fierce hide-and-seek and struggles.

Numerous individuals bled and fell, yet none could take their last breath.

Because hell was already a place for those who had become the deceased.

"Aaaargh!!!"

Naturally, the conclusion was the prisoners' defeat.

Of course.

No matter how much they resisted, there was nowhere they could escape to in hell.

In any case, what was important was that I gained enough inspiration from that incident.

The coup d'état that took place in the Hell of the Self Harm.

I gave it the genre of "Survival Horror Action."