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Video Game Tycoon in Tokyo-Chapter 928: The Upper Influences the Lower
Chapter 928 - The Upper Influences the Lower
When Hayakawa Ueto posed his question, the department head immediately answered seriously, "President, I believe this game series serves as a standard answer key for us and other companies. We've already purchased three installments of the series, and the gameplay evolution between them hasn't been significant. I don't think it's necessary to buy it again."
"And what's the reason for that? You think it would be a waste of time?" Hayakawa pressed.
"Yes, sir." The department head nodded. "There's not much left to learn from this type of game. My team already understands how such games are made, and we now have the ability to develop similar ones ourselves. So I don't think we need to waste more time analyzing Assassin's Creed."
Hayakawa gave the department head a deep look. "Is that just your opinion, or does your team feel the same way?"
"Uh... it's mostly my opinion. Mainly because we really don't have much time for anything else right now."
"So what I'm hearing is you're complaining about all the overtime?"
"No—absolutely not!" The department head quickly explained in a panic.
"I'm not forcing anyone to work overtime. It's just that your team's development efficiency still doesn't match Gamestar Electronic Entertainment's. Of course, that's understandable. Which is why you have to make up the difference with hard work, to compensate for the lack of raw talent."
As the president of Surei Electronics—one of Japan's top companies—Hayakawa Ueto was under tremendous performance pressure.
He needed excellent results to maintain his position. At the end of the day, he was a capitalist. With shareholders breathing down his neck, and knowing he lacked natural talent, he could only rely on relentless pressure to chase Gamestar's lead.
That, of course, made life miserable for the developers. If Surei didn't pay so well, most of them probably wouldn't last.
"I know what kind of game Assassin's Creed is," Hayakawa said. "Yes, the past few titles have been very similar. But I still recommend you keep buying the series. Gamestar Electronic Entertainment is not as simple as you think. If you believe their games have no value, how do you expect to make it in this industry?"
"...Yes, understood." The department head bowed, sweat beading on his forehead. He didn't dare meet Hayakawa's eyes.
By now, Hayakawa was nearing sixty. He had served as president for over a decade. Over time, he had inherited the same intimidating aura his father had when he was in charge. No one dared act casually in front of him.
"Focus on the task at hand. You don't need to rush development for now. Video games are cultural entertainment products. Creativity under pressure is not ideal. I shouldn't have put so much stress on you. Take some time to relax."
This was as good as a royal decree. The department head naturally didn't dare defy it and hurried to deliver the order to the rest of the team.
Upon hearing it, the developers—who had been running on fumes for the past two or three months—instantly cheered.
Recently, the rise of standardized formula-based game templates had made development much easier. But that also meant developers were expected to produce more games in less time.
People like Takayuki, who still pursued idealism in game development, were rare. Most companies were following the path of churning out formulaic titles again and again.
Takayuki couldn't control that. The best he could do was instill his philosophy during lectures: the time saved by development tools wasn't meant to push people to rush the next game—it was meant to give them more time to create something truly imaginative.
Still, few companies really took that to heart.
Capital and creativity often clashed in entertainment.
Unless a game developer had the influence of people like Miyazaki, Shigeru Miyamoto, or Hideo Kojima, it was hard to push back.
"Alright, everyone," the department head announced, "Just because you're pausing development doesn't mean you're off the hook. The president said that starting tonight, you should all go home and play Assassin's Creed: Revelations, which launched in the last two days. Within a week, I want a gameplay experience report from each of you. I want to see what insights you have."
"Huh? But that game's so boring. Isn't it just another formula game?"
"Yeah, it feels like a waste of time."
"No choice. This is the president's order," the department head said. "Or do you want to go against the president?"
No one dared respond.
At least they were finally being given a break. Even if they had to write reports on Assassin's Creed: Revelations, that was still better than the constant overtime they were used to.
As for the department head himself—he had no interest in actually playing such a formulaic game. He'd rather spend the time networking or playing golf.
That was what he considered the lifestyle of the upper class.
He had clawed his way up from the bottom, and he craved power. Wasting time on something he considered meaningless was, in his mind, a crime.
As for the gameplay reports, he'd just have his subordinates handle them. Once they submitted theirs, he would edit and combine them into his own.
He quietly made these plans, then told the team to get back to work.
When the workday ended, the devs rushed out of the office—none of them stayed behind. They had been waiting for a chance to leave on time for ages.
A few of them immediately made plans to go out drinking, singing karaoke, and eating top-tier sushi.
As for the reports? That could wait.
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After all, even their boss was going to do the same.
And deep down, most of them didn't believe the Assassin's Creed series had much value anyway.