Agreeing to Create Bad Games, What the Hell Is ‘Titanfall’? Chapter 107
“Ow—”
Gu Sheng leaned back into the couch with a soft groan.
Xiao Nezha definitely had good taste.
Every time he sank into the couch that Xiao Nezha had specifically set up in the meeting room, Gu Sheng couldn’t help but let out that sigh.
The two of them entered the game, and Shen Miaomiao pushed the little snack cart into action, kicking off the second chapter of their culinary adventure.
Strictly speaking, the second major stage was where the real game began.
From here on, they would face increasingly complex recipes and ever-changing kitchen hazards.
One challenge after another would test their limits.
They’d have to work together, side by side, honing their skills to finally defeat the greedy and powerful Pasta Monster.
Just like before, they bumbled through the cooking chaos, fulfilling order after order.
But something was off with Gu Sheng today.
He kept making mistakes—forgetting to watch the cook times, letting the frying pan catch fire, nearly turning the kitchen into an apocalypse.
Some of his errors were so basic even newbie Shen Miaomiao found them baffling—not the kind of slip-ups a seasoned gamer like Gu Sheng should be making.
Noticing his poor state, Shen Miaomiao finally paused the game after yet another brain-dead mistake.
“Old Gu,”
She pulled her long legs off the table, sat cross-legged, and shifted toward him.
“What’s up with you?”
“I…”
Gu Sheng shrugged.
“I’m just tired, not really in the zone.”
D*mn, that sounded weird.
Gu Sheng mentally facepalmed.
But weird or not, it was the truth.
The reason he hadn’t been playing games with Xiao Nezha lately was simple—he was swamped.
Busy working on the game proposal for Titanfall 2.
That’s right.
Because of Overcooked’s explosion in popularity, two days ago, Gu Sheng had completed his emotion point quota ahead of schedule—over a million.
So naturally, he immediately redeemed Titanfall 2’s core data.
But while redemption was easy, adapting it into a motion-sensing platform project proposal was anything but.
Unlike Golden Wind’s previous three motion-sensing games, Titanfall 2 was all about narrative—a cinematic, story-driven experience.
Don’t be fooled by the six-hour total gameplay. The script and narrative work dwarfed everything they’d done before.
And the worst part?
He had to do it all by himself.
“The flagship project’s early planning is a lot more complex,” Gu Sheng said.
“These past few days have been dizzying.”
Oh?
Shen Miaomiao perked up at that.
The flagship project was a big deal—central to her system’s ability to turn wins into losses. It was also Golden Wind’s most expensive game to date!
She had been planning to hear his pitch once the project officially launched.
But now?
This guy had started working on it early—in secret—without telling anyone?
“You sneaky little cheat! Secretly grinding, working overtime, and encouraging toxic hustle culture!”
She gave Gu Sheng a light kick, her tone full of mock disappointment.
“How do you expect to earn snack tokens like this!”
“I don’t need tokens to claw for snacks,” Gu Sheng chuckled, slumping deeper into the couch.
“And this project’s just too hard. If I don’t grind a bit, I’ll get smashed by the Three Axe Gang.”
“It’s that bad?!”
Shen Miaomiao’s eyes lit up.
Now that was music to her ears.
Fortunately, Gu Sheng was lying flat on the couch and couldn’t see her suddenly gleaming eyes. Otherwise, he might’ve gotten suspicious.
“You think?”
Gu Sheng laced his fingers behind his head and stared at the ceiling.
“This flagship title isn’t like our past games. It’s not just about the game’s core quality. The level of technical polish—industrial quality—is also a major, if not primary, evaluation criterion.
“Our budget is limited. We simply can’t afford both high industrial quality and large game scope—that’s a hard truth.
“And that’s not something either I or YiYou can control.
“YiYou X2’s full-sensory assist tech has to be showcased in the game.
“We can’t stretch the playtime by producing outdated electronic garbage from the last century. No player would accept that.”
Oh come on, why not?! Of course we can! Shen Miaomiao nearly jumped up.
She almost blurted out, “Why can’t we sell garbage to the players?”
No one buying it would be perfect!
If zero people bought it, that two-hundred-million investment would turn into two billion in losses!
That private luxury yacht would be within reach!
But she swallowed the words.
No good. That idea was way too outrageous, even for her. She couldn’t say it out loud.
Even if Gu Sheng didn’t suspect her system, there’s no way he’d ever agree to something that ridiculous.
Besides, her system had a key condition—it required the project lead’s full consent to activate.
If Gu Sheng deemed a project unacceptable, then any losses would be true, raw losses—with no rebate.
Gu Sheng wasn’t a puppet of her system.
In fact, he was the one who truly held power over it.
Shen Miaomiao sighed to herself, shaking her head in regret.
“So then?”
“So?”
Gu Sheng exhaled.
“To meet the industrial quality standard, we have no choice but to scale back the scope—shorten the total playtime…”
“Ohhh—”
Shen Miaomiao nodded. She got it.
“Shortweight and shortchange.”
“Hey!” Gu Sheng smacked his lips. “Come on… that sounds terrible…”
Haha! Got him!
Shen Miaomiao’s eyes curved like crescent moons. She wore a mischievous grin like a cartoon imp.
“You’re something else, you Supernova. You’ve learned the art of shortchanging now? A 280-yuan mooncake gift box that’s just a fancy box with two actual mooncakes inside?”
“I…” Gu Sheng opened his mouth to retort but had nothing.
Because she hit the nail on the head.
That was exactly the project’s biggest pain point!
Originally, Gu Sheng had envisioned Titanfall 2 as a full-package game—story and multiplayer both.
True, the multiplayer was extremely skill-intensive, leading to a sharp skill gap that might shorten the game’s life. Still, at least it was there.
A complete game, able to go toe-to-toe with XunTeng’s Three Axe Gang.
But once he redeemed the core data and crunched the numbers, reality smacked him in the face.
With a budget under 200 million, he could only afford to polish the single-player portion.
If he wanted multiplayer too, there were only two options:
Nerf the new-gen full-sensory tech, reducing it to PUBG levels—basic immersion at best.
Increase the budget, either by taking loans or accepting profit-sharing investments.
Clearly, neither option was viable for Golden Wind.
Gu Sheng couldn’t accept releasing a game that could’ve been amazing but ended up half-baked due to budget issues.
And Shen Miaomiao?
She never allowed third-party investments.
So Gu Sheng had no choice but to cut multiplayer for now and go all-in on the single-player campaign.
But that led to another issue—exactly what Shen Miaomiao had just said:
Shortweight and shortchange.
A flagship game with only six hours of single-player content? Of course it’d get flamed!
Technically, this problem had a simple fix—just lower the price.
Most flagship games were priced between 198 to 568 RMB.
If Titanfall 2 launched at 98, or even 68, that’d ease the backlash.
High costs and low pricing would delay profitability, sure, but at least the reputation would stay intact.
Except there was a catch—
You couldn’t just lower the price of a flagship title!
198–568 was the unspoken rule in the industry.
You could go higher, but never lower than 198, or it wouldn’t qualify as a flagship game at all. Motion-sensor platform publishers wouldn’t allow it.
Which meant—
“We’re in a real bind,” Gu Sheng shrugged.
Shen Miaomiao gave him a thumbs-up:
“So we’re basically asking players to pay 198 RMB for a six-hour game.”
Wow! Genius!
She almost laughed out loud.
You’re a real moneymaker!
What do other games offer?
Complete stories, online multiplayer, excellent graphics, endless replayability!
What do we offer?
A movie.
A one-time six-hour movie—for 200 yuan.
Some might argue that, given how movie tickets in motion-sensor theaters can run up to 80 or 100 yuan, this isn’t unreasonable.
But don’t forget, the game market is comparative.
When other games offer more bang for your buck, yours starts to look weak.
Especially when no game has ever convinced players to willingly pay flagship prices just to “watch a movie.”
Even ZhenTing, known for great narratives, always included multiplayer to extend game life.
Only story?
You’ll have players foaming at the mouth.
But ironically, the more hopeless it looked, the happier Shen Miaomiao got.
They were already struggling against the Three Axe Gang—
And now Gu Sheng, thanks to his obsessive perfectionism, had cranked the difficulty up another level.
Where else could you find such a beautiful money-losing machine?!
With that in mind, Shen Miaomiao casually waved her hand:
“Don’t stress. Worst-case scenario, we just start over. I’ll figure something out.”
Of course she would.
The more they lost, the more she gained.
Money?
Lose one, gain ten. Golden Wind would never fall.
“And besides, we really don’t have a choice,” she added.
“Everyone wants to make the perfect game, but we just don’t have the funds. From the very start, we were never in the same league as XunTeng’s Big Three.
“So I think both players and YiYou will understand.
“At worst—”
She paused, her eyes gleaming:
“At worst, we release a sequel later. Or like you guys say, a DLC. Sell it cheap—call it a thank-you to the players.”
Boom! Another project!
She secretly praised herself.
The base game’s reputation would be garbage, then she’d follow it up with an equally trashy sequel to milk more money.
Perfect.
If people actually bought it, she’d set up a fund from the rebate money just to treat their poor brains.
Of course, she was mostly kidding.
She knew Gu Sheng had far better market instincts than she did.
Even she could see that scammy plans like this were guaranteed to flop.
No way Gu Sheng would—
“Holy sh*t?! That’s a great idea!” Gu Sheng snapped his fingers and looked at her.
Holy sht?!*
Shen Miaomiao’s eyes widened in shock.
He’s gone dumb! My director’s finally cracked!
“Huh?”
The mental whiplash nearly snapped her spine.
“What’s a great idea?”
“The DLC!” Gu Sheng pointed at her. “You may not know much about the industry, but you’re a genius.”
Me?
Shen Miaomiao followed his finger, looked down, then wiggled her body—yep, he was pointing at her.
“I was just… talking nonsense…”
She rubbed her lips awkwardly.
“Is this some kind of sarcasm I don’t understand?”
“Tsk. Be confident.”
Gu Sheng sat up and gently patted her shoulder.
“It’s not sarcasm. Your idea’s legit.
“We could absolutely launch the base game as-is.
“Then, we drop Easter eggs in the game to hint at upcoming content.
“Paint the big picture first.
“When money flows back in, we develop the rest.
“To make up for the short base game, we’ll release the DLC at a super low price as a thank-you to players.
“That way, both the main game and DLC get good reviews.
“What do you think?”
Hiss—!!!
Shen Miaomiao felt a surge of exhilaration from her toes to her scalp.
“I think naming you director and spiritual core of Golden Wind was the best decision ever!”
She was ecstatic!
He agreed!
He actually agreed to the garbage on top of garbage plan!
He even suggested slashing prices and making financial recovery harder!
Miracle of miracles!
“If it were up to me,” she added, “I’d make the DLC free. It should’ve been part of the main game, but we had to split it because of our limitations.”
She put on a guilt-ridden face and sighed.
“Of course, I understand if you want to make some money back—for the company’s sake.”
Yes, she was pushing her luck.
She wanted to see if she could get Gu Sheng to make a completely free project.
No sales. No earnings.
Just sweet, sweet rebate money!
Then she wouldn’t have to anxiously monitor sales and player numbers every day like she was waiting for judgment day.
But she knew she was dreaming.
If Gu Sheng had ever agreed to that, she wouldn’t have needed to test the system’s limits by pricing all their games at rock-bottom.
However!
Sometimes, miracles really do happen—
“You really think that? Great!”
Gu Sheng’s eyes lit up, even more fired up than before!
Xiao Nezha’s DLC idea had just given him a way to save his not-even-launched, reputation-sinking game.
He would ride Titanfall’s momentum and drop a beloved, explosive game as a massive DLC.
And he had originally intended to make that DLC free.
But he figured Xiao Nezha would never go for it. It would require a big budget, and while she was generous, she wasn’t that generous.
So he had planned to release it at a very low price instead.
But now?
She actually suggested making it free as a player thank-you gift!
Gu Sheng was stunned.
Oh heavenly gods, the God of Fortune has blessed me!
Xiao Nezha, the always-hands-off boss, was finally on the same wavelength as him!
She even approved of this win-win move!
So—
“Don’t worry,” Gu Sheng said seriously, nodding to her.
“Even if we release the DLC for free, I’ll still find a way to make it bring value to the company!”
Yeah right, keep dreaming.
Shen Miaomiao snorted internally.
Free?!
You’re gonna profit from a free game?
“You gonna sell a Fire Kirin skin or something?”
She joked.
She knew free-to-play games could be profitable—sometimes more so than premium ones.
But she didn’t believe Gu Sheng would ever stoop to copying XunTeng’s scummy lottery loot boxes or pay-to-win monetization.
And, true to form, Gu Sheng shook his head.
“That’s too low. The real way to profit—
Is to get players to happily pay… without ever feeling pressured.”