To ascend, I had no choice but to create games

Chapter 286: Chapter 185: Regret of the Unfinished (Two More)_1

Back in his own home, Fang Cheng began to contemplate what game to work on next.

With a light tap on his temple, the memories of the haunted house were pulled from his mind, unfolding like a vast three-dimensional hologram, suspended silently in mid-air.

Then, grabbing and flinging the memories, he dragged out multiple copies, each containing a version of himself and Xu Qingling, collaborating and exploring the entire haunted house.

It didn’t take long for him to understand the plot of the haunted house, and even the parts he hadn’t played through then were now clear to him.

The entire haunted house was crafted following a large script, created by a team of over a dozen people exploring and interpreting continuously, ultimately building this massive script of one million four hundred thousand words.

On the first playthrough, one would feel terror, but the script included multiple narratives, sub-plot branching options, and variations with key items, so each gameplay offered new experiences.

Afterwards, the charm of the script became apparent, irresistibly highlighting the effort they had put into it.

Although Fang Cheng hadn’t found the ghosts in the haunted house particularly terrifying, after thoroughly digesting the story, he still found an element in the script that moved him.

It was a different kind of helplessness.

Unlike the protagonists in traditional horror houses, the role he played that day was more of an extraordinary figure who, after acquiring certain items, could even chase demons and ghosts away.

But the ingenuity of the plot lies right there.

Even though these protagonists possessed special powers, sometimes even capable of defeating the ghosts, a curtelike doom was present from the start, making them, the more powerful they were, the more likely they were to hurt the ones they loved, ultimately leading to irreversible tragedy.

They possessed strength far beyond that of ordinary characters, but this power couldn’t help them break free; instead, it caused them to sink deeper into the mire of despair, eventually losing all hope.

Suppressing the urge to use Palm Thunder, Fang Cheng approached the entire script with a slightly stronger mindset, and then he realized this sense of helplessness could easily stir people’s emotions.

Particularly when one already had considerable abilities, but could only reach one bad ending after another, such a horror game, even without jump-scare tactics, still infused players with despair and terror.

So, how about creating a game with absolutely no good endings, only despair?

After a search on his computer, Fang Cheng found that there were quite a few such horror games.

The Witch’s House is one of the representative works, with the protagonist’s identity being very special, meaning every ending implies some form of despair.

The Silent Hill series, aside from some obviously bizarre endings, mostly lacked good outcomes in the entire collection.

This was used a lot in movies too, The Mist was a typical film that played with your mind, with an ending so heart-wrenching it was torturous.

After watching related movies and playing related games, Fang Cheng felt he could understand the content, but now he faced a problem.

He wasn’t confident about releasing a game that could make players emotionally explode.

Though players always backstabbed him, deviating from his designed gameplay, coming up with all sorts of weird ideas, and turning the game environment upside down.

They always managed to start strong from small things, linking up everyone to create massive events, each enough to become his adversaries.

But sometimes, they were alright.

He had even utilized players to do him a few small favors, so making a game that torments players didn’t seem quite right.

Immortals prefer not to get too entangled with karma, but he already had some connections with them.

After much thought, he decided to give Mr. Shen a call to seek his opinion.

Before picking up Fang Cheng’s call, Mr. Shen was pondering whether to get a haircut.

His hair volume had returned to the level it was six years ago, his receding hairline had finally held its ground, and started to push back.

Now, his hair was luxurious enough to warrant a cut, but he was uncertain if it would stay that way, so he kept contemplating various hairstyles in magazines.

Having received Fang Cheng’s call, Mr. Shen temporarily set aside his indecision and began to listen to his proud student’s queries.

As soon as Fang Cheng mentioned he wanted to create a horror game, Mr. Shen cut him off, “Don’t do it.”

“Why not?”

“Although the domestic environment has opened up, horror games are still somewhat ambiguous. You know, there’s no classification system in our country, all games should be playable by everyone. This actually sets a baseline, which is that your game should satisfy everyone’s needs.”

“That’s impossible,” Fang Cheng said, puzzled.

“Indeed, games can’t possibly meet everyone’s needs, so the regulatory agency has a relatively flexible standard of measurement. This standard has not been made public, but according to our guess, this internal review is linked to the game’s potential for complaints.”

New terminology made Fang Cheng pause.

He carefully recalled it, but in the end, he couldn’t find a related memory.

Mr. Shen, knowing what Fang Cheng’s silence meant, explained,

“Complaint potential is established by the regulatory agency themselves, and called differently in different places. It’s used to gauge the likelihood of certain themes or elements being complained about. When a game receives an excessive number of complaints, that’s the time it gets banned. Of course, the weight of the complaints varies according to the status of the complainant, and this is also taken into account.”