To ascend, I had no choice but to create games

Chapter 41: Wang’s Experience :!

Translator: 549690339

Seeing the interface prompt displaying “Activation codes have all been claimed,” Wang Say Games sighed and muttered to himself that he was late.

He had recorded videos too late into the night yesterday, and by the time he woke up, it was already afternoon, just missing the window to claim an activation code.

In his fan group, Wang Say Games lamented helplessly, “Ten thousand activation codes were claimed in just three hours—how enthusiastic can you all be? Whoever got an activation code, could you please lend it to me? I’ll return it right after I record a video.”

Wang’s large group had thousands of members, each one a dedicated fan; swapping account details was a common occurrence.

He had assumed that out of the thousands, at least a few would have gotten an activation code, but after his request, all he got back were confused replies.

“Nope.”

“Didn’t manage to grab one.”

“I’m starting to suspect there were never any activation codes to begin with. Otherwise, why hasn’t a single screenshot surfaced? This is a scam; I’m going to file a complaint!”

Looking at his boiling fans, Wang too felt something was amiss.

Could it really have been just fake news?

Such incidents were not uncommon, with some studios faking the development of a game to draw in early purchases or deceive major investors, only to abscond with the funds once they had enough.

After all, the gaming industry in China was only governed by “Interim Management Measures for Electronic Games,” which is far less stringent than other countries on a legal level, causing the sector to be rife with disorder.

However, Wang did not believe Fang Cheng was the type to scam for money; otherwise, he would have packaged his games for sale long ago—why bother with all this?

After some thought, Wang browsed other platforms looking to purchase an activation code, but the prices made him gasp in shock.

The test was only for seven days, yet an activation code was selling for a whopping 2100, and the number was still dropping.

That broke down to burning 300 a day on the game, where even taking a bathroom break was disrespectful to money.

Torn, and seeing the number of activation codes dwindling, Wang was just about to grudgingly make a purchase when a message from his good friend Living Immortal popped up.

“Activation code: [pn32827382111231], for ‘Quiet Cultivation.’ I got one for you.”

Seeing the message, Wang’s eyes brimmed with tears.

In times like these, good immortals were still plentiful.

But what did he mean by getting one? Immortal, did you really take up my advice and join Fang Cheng’s team?

Without the time to ask more, Wang boastfully called out in the group, “Sorry, folks, but someone just gave me an activation code. I’m off to experience the game—I’ll let you knowhowit goes when I’m back.”

After his announcement, he left behind a group of fans cursing him for being inconsiderate and happily went off to play his game.

Entering the activation code and downloading the game, Wang nodded at the 1GB size, thinking to himself that this was more like it.

The size also filled Wang with great anticipation, and he immediately entered the game.

Instead of the usual straightforward entry into the game, this time there was an opening animation—and the quality was high.

The scene opened with a strong gust of wind sweeping over, causing all things to wither.

But the next second, as the Gang Wind dissipated, the vegetation quickly grew back, the earth regained its vitality, and variously shaped character statues descended from the skies, transforming into human forms with solemn expressions as they eyed one another.

The next moment, the clouds in the sky suddenly dispersed and invisible giant hands tore the white clouds apart, then merged them into different locations, creating spots shimmering with white light.

Upon discovering these locations, the characters sprang into action. Those who entered these spots first were either suddenly clad in golden armor or held thunderbolts in their hands. A range of powerful moves were unleashed, perfectly aligning with Wang’s vision of Cultivators, making him wonder if the CGI team really did have experience as Immortals.

Several characters began to engage in fierce battle, and as they entered meditation points more frequently, the subsequent fights grew more heated and exciting, giving Wang a thrilling sensation.

Just watching the CG made Wang’s heart surge with excitement, itching to jump into the fray for a whopping three hundred rounds.

When at last, only two characters remained, clashing with earth -shattering moves, the entire scene settled into tranquility, and the name of the game finally emerged:

“Quiet Cultivation”.

Seeing this name, Wang couldn’t help but think it was so typical of you.

The name had nothing to do with the content of the game, except for Fang

Cheng; no one else could be behind it.

And the tagline beneath the name was filled with a wicked sense of humor.

“The first domestic cultivation and meditation game—Fang Cheng Studio.” Holding his head, Wang felt Fang Cheng was having one of his episodes again. I’m not blind; the CG clearly shows a battle royale game—who are you trying to fool?

A perfectly good fantasy battle royale game, and you call it a cultivation and meditation game, as if you’re afraid others won’t realize your questionable taste in naming?

However, generally speaking, games made by Fang Cheng are all about the name, tags, and description images; you have to actually play them to know what they’re like.

Clicking “Start,” he entered the game, which led to the character creation process.

The detailed facial customization wasn’t available yet, so players could only choose from four characters: Sword Immortal, Heavenly Soldier, Ape Demon, and Ming General.

Different characters had distinct movements, handling, and weapons, and each weapon determined a different attack style.

Unlike previous games, “Quiet Cultivation” clearly had a specialist adjust the camera angles, the UI placement, and tutorials—and this person was skilled.

Every button and guide appeared right where Wang needed them, allowing him to grasp the basics of each character within minutes.

The Sword Immortal was graceful, with the fastest movements, wielding the Flying Sword to vanquish enemies, although controlling it was the most challenging; the Flying Sword dealt high damage but left the user defenseless once thrown, not suited for casual players.

The Heavenly Soldier had balanced attributes all-around, with an innate burst capability that could explode with damage for five seconds, but would then enter a weakened state for a period.

The Ape Demon started off as a small monkey, but as it meditated more frequently, it became larger and stronger in all aspects—a powerful choice for the late game.

The Ming General excelled in moving through shadows, a master of stealth and assassination; however, as other players grew in strength, it became less formidable, a character that needed to take risks early on.

Looking at these four characters, Wang felt as though they were alive, each hair meticulously modeled, a testament to Fang Cheng Studio’s consistently formidable technical prowess.

It’s just a pity there’s too much masculine energy and not enough charm, lacking a few female characters to lighten the mood. Hopefully, the studio will take note and balance the yin and yang, showing that women can also hold up half the sky.

Choosing the Ape Demon, he counted down to the start of the game. Wang watched his character’s statue rise from the ground, then with a fierce shake, the stone chips burst apart, and transformed into a monkey wielding a staff, leaping to the ground.

Brushing the dust off his body, the smooth actions made Wang feel as though he was truly controlling a monkey, the meticulous movements impressing him greatly.

At the same time, he was astonished by the surrounding landscape, painted with a brushstroke of ink-wash colors.

The opening animation wasn’t CG, but actual in-game footage!

Although many games claim to showcase real-time gameplay, there’s usually some tweaking involved, yet Fang Cheng, with your bold and unwavering resolve, actually used game footage for the animation, blatantly challenging the unspoken rules of the industry.

After admiring the view, Wang contentedly gripped the mouse and keyboard, ready to take control.

But as soon as he began, he inwardly exclaimed, crap.

There was no going back.