Chapter 4: The Horror Game Studio That Doesnt Make Horror Games

Chapter 4: The Horror Game Studio That Doesnt Make Horror Games

This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation

The unrelenting rain poured heavily from the sky, drenching the earth incessantly. Yet, Gao Ming was not so frightened by this deluge as he was entwined in a complex web of emotions.

As the early morning light began to filter through the clouds, Gao Ming turned to the internet for updates and discovered that the persistent heavy rain had triggered landslides and flash flooding, disrupting road networks. It was clear that no vehicle could navigate to the tunnel that served as a crucial intersection for Hanjiang, Xinhai, and Hanhai, the three adjacent cities.

He clung to a slender thread of hope that the tunnel remained unobstructed by the landslides.

Confounded by the bizarre turn of events where his game seemed to merge with reality, Gao Ming was forced to confront and reluctantly accept this bewildering fact. He mused to himself about the futility of deleting his game designs now, but it seemed like his next step would inevitably lead him to Nightlight Game Studio.

As a part-time game designer, Gao Ming had worked closely with Nightlight Game Studio on numerous occasions, providing them with an extensive array of ideas and concepts for games with themes of mystery and murder. Now, he was resolved to erase all the game designs he had submitted, hoping that it might somehow undo the strange events unfolding around him.

Following a brief meal in the morning, Gao Ming packed the photograph of significance into his backpack, equipped himself with a raincoat, and embarked on his journey. He was known for his decisiveness and his ability to put plans into action effectively.

As he made his way, the relentless rain continued to flood the city, and oppressive clouds cast a somber hue over everything. Gao Ming managed to hail a taxi and reached the northern district of Hanhai City.

His initial plan had been to leave his current job as a psychological counselor to pursue his passion for game design full-time.

His motivation to break into the gaming industry was simple yet personal: he had been unable to find horror games that met his taste, so he decided to take the initiative to create games that he himself would enjoy.

By nine o’clock in the morning, with the help of a janitorial staff member, Gao Ming found the office of Nightlight Games.

This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation

This studio was a branch of Motu Technology, which boasted the largest gaming platform in the nation and was known for crafting suspense and thriller games. Nonetheless, they were currently experiencing a period of transition and were not at their peak performance.

Before Gao Ming even stepped through the door, he could hear the thunderous bellowing from inside. “Are you sick?! Are you all out of your minds?!” The words reverberated through the glass door.

Inside the office, several employees were hunched over their desks, their eyes locked on large monitors displaying a scene from a game. It showed a nondescript protagonist in a moment of surreal horror, watching his own death in a video during a break in a séance game that also featured his deceased wife within the eerie confines of a haunted house.

“Destroy them? Those drafts have the potential to be masterpieces if they’re ever brought to life!” Wei Dayou left the comfort of his desk and walked up to Gao Ming, a mix of confusion and concern in his voice. “What’s gotten into you? What sort of ordeal have you endured?”

“My days of crafting horror games may be behind me,” Gao Ming admitted, offering a reassuring pat on Wei Dayou’s shoulder. “And a bit of cautionary advice for you all—steer clear of venturing out at night for a while.”

Manager Gou Ming’s spirits, which had momentarily dipped, soared once more upon hearing Gao Ming’s change of heart. “Gao Ming, Wei Dayou mentioned you’ve left your position at the correctional facility. Why not join our ranks in the meantime? We truly value what you bring to the table; you wouldn’t even need to go through an interview process!”

“Thanks, but I’ll have to reject the offer,” Gao Ming gently rebuffed the offer.

Through persistent conversation and persuasion, Gao Ming eventually convinced Wei Dayou to unlock the file cabinet where the studio kept its archives. Together, they unearthed the plethora of game design proposals Gao Ming had contributed over time.

Given the prolonged nature of game development and the hefty initial investment required, many game concepts don’t make it off the ground and end up shelved indefinitely.

Truth be told, had the studio not been in the midst of pivoting away from horror-themed games, Gao Ming might have found it much more challenging to take back these intellectual properties.

With deliberate care, Gao Ming began to sort through the archives, categorizing his creations into five distinct levels of peril based on their content: Criminals, Rumors, Omens, Cryptic, and Strange Tales.

The ‘Criminals’ category involved games derived from actual criminal cases, where danger is purely human, hinging on puzzle-solving and evidence collection within the bounds of reality.

‘Rumors’ also drew on murder cases yet were laced with peculiar and spine-chilling narratives. However, the true peril remained human-centric despite the fictional overtones.

‘Omens’ represented a departure into the realm of the supernatural, hinting at the existence of fearsome entities and world-altering prophecies, where the threats were rooted in curses and the paranormal.

‘Cryptic’ games were a notch above, dabbling in authentic mysteries that could defy explanation.

The ‘Strange Tales’ were the most unpredictable, a domain where safety was an illusion, rules were subject to change, enigmas abounded, and the narratives were not only self-evolving but increasingly expansive, drawing in more unsuspecting individuals.

Then there was a sixth, even more dire category—’Uncontrolled Strange Tales.’ These were the narratives without hope, the darkest of Gao Ming’s creations, which he had come specifically to destroy in the hope that their bleak scenarios would never bleed into the fabric of reality.

“36 Criminals, 25 Rumors, 5 Omens, 25 Cryptic, 31 Strange Tales, 4 Uncontrolled Strange Tales... I’ve really been quite diligent over the years.” Gao Ming reflected, perhaps with a hint of pride but also a touch of solemnity, considering the strange circumstances that necessitated this purge.