Agreeing to Create Bad Games, What the Hell Is ‘Titanfall’? Chapter 24
“Not fixed?”
Gu Sheng frowned slightly.
This seemed to be the first time he had frowned since the meeting started.
Shen Miaomiao was overjoyed!
Finally found a proposal that even Gu Sheng found tricky!
“Yes,”
Shen Miaomiao nodded.
“I’ve noticed that in most games on the market today, gear drops are fixed,”
“You get fixed gear, at a fixed time, in a fixed place,”
“So I was thinking, what if the gear in our game could be randomly generated?”
Randomly generated gear?!
Lu Bian, sitting nearby, could hardly believe his ears!
What the f*** kind of wild idea is this?!
Oh, so you mean after a player grinds super hard for loot, they might end up with a crappy twig?
Isn’t that just pure trolling?!
Before he could stop himself, Lu Bian was ready to shoot down this outrageous suggestion:
“President Shen, that’s just way too—”
But!
Before he could finish—
Gu Sheng raised a hand and directly cut him off!
Then, his eyes turned to Little Nezha, filled with a light of astonishment:
“You mean... Roguelike?”
Roguelike games!
A type of nonlinear game defined by “random generation,” “one-way progression,” “simple visuals,” and “complex systems.”
The originator was a game called Rogue in Gu Sheng’s previous life.
This game genre, with its extreme randomness and exhilarating payoff once mastered, had gained a massive fanbase in his past life.
Gu Sheng was one of them.
However!
In this creatively barren world, there had never been Rogue.
Much less the concept of a Roguelike game!
So—
Gu Sheng stared at Shen Miaomiao in shock.
How had she managed to describe the core of a Roguelike so accurately through her suggestions?!
Could it be that she was also a transmigrator?!
“Uh... meat pigeon?”
The next second, Shen Miaomiao gave him a live demonstration—
She wasn’t a transmigrator at all. She was just a chaos gremlin determined to make a bad game:
“Meat pigeon? What meat pigeon? What does that have to do with lunch?”
Gu Sheng: …
Okay, I was overthinking.
“It’s nothing...”
Gu Sheng shook his head and moved on from the topic.
“I meant—any other requests or suggestions?”
“That’s all... I think.”
Shen Miaomiao actually had more to say.
But the atmosphere in the room was practically frozen, and she wisely chose to zip it.
This’ll do.
Things are best when they swing to the extreme, she told herself.
Anyway, based on what’s been suggested so far, just one of these crazy ideas is enough to ruin a game.
“Alright,”
Gu Sheng nodded, his expression returning to that confident, unshakeable look—if anything, he looked even more sure of himself than before:
“President Shen’s ideas are truly eye-opening. Very inspirational.”
Shen Miaomiao shivered internally.
Oh come on, don’t give me that terrifying look!!!
Why does it feel like you’re confident this game will turn a profit in just one hour?!
Before she could dwell on it, Gu Sheng continued:
“Next, let’s talk about the investment for this game.”
“President Shen,”
he looked at Shen Miaomiao as he spoke,
“Since there’s less than a month until the Game Festival,
“that’s a tight timeline for a fully developed game,”
“So we’ll still need to rely on Game Factory’s outsourcing team for some resources,”
“Which might require a bit more funding.”
No problem!!!
Shen Miaomiao was delighted!
In other areas, she might not be able to help—or worse, mess things up.
But when it came to money—
Invest! Go all out!
“No problem,”
she said with full-on rich-girl energy,
“How much do you need? Is five million enough?”
Pfft—
Gu Sheng had just taken a sip of water and almost spat it out.
You’re seriously overestimating what a Roguelike needs.
This game has no flashy scenes and no big marketing budget.
If you gave him five million, he wouldn’t even know how to burn through it.
“That’s way too high,”
Gu Sheng waved his hand,
“Just a bit more than Who’s Your Daddy—thirteen thousand.”
“What—”
Shen Miaomiao pouted,
“That’s too little. Thirty thousand.”
“Won’t need that much,” Gu Sheng shook his head. “Fifteen thousand.”
“Twenty. Even if we don’t need it, we’re spending it.”
In the end, Shen Miaomiao made the executive decision.
Da Jiang and Lu Bian on the side were dumbfounded!
Reverse haggling?!
What kind of move was that?!
They’d seen bosses cutting budgets before, but never one aggressively pushing the budget up!
“Alright then,”
Gu Sheng wasn’t all that surprised—he’d gotten used to this already. With a helpless smile, he added:
“Twenty thousand it is. We’ll try to get some good resources.”
“Deal!”
Shen Miaomiao flashed a row of pearly whites, totally satisfied:
“Then I’ll leave it to you, Director Gu, and you two!”
“Of course.”
Gu Sheng smiled and closed his meeting notebook.
Tch. Putting on quite the act.
Shen Miaomiao glanced at Gu Sheng’s meeting notebook, snickering to herself.
Bet he’s drawn a bunch of doodles of turtles in there!
The meeting wrapped up, and the project was officially launched.
Shen Miaomiao didn’t think twice about that notebook Gu Sheng had been scribbling in the whole time.
Little did she know—if she had taken even one more look before he closed it, she wouldn’t be feeling this relaxed.
Because there wasn’t a single turtle in there.
Instead, every page was filled with detailed notes of her suggestions—and his own supplementary ideas.
Those notes intertwined like surging rivers, eventually merging and condensing into six words inside a pair of title brackets...
Meeting adjourned!
Shen Miaomiao left in high spirits!
Just thinking about the two million rebate coming in next month made her giddy with joy!
A twenty-thousand investment, two million return!
Most importantly, all of that two million was going into her own pocket!
That’s right.
The reason Shen Miaomiao was so determined to lose money—put bluntly—was to fatten up her private stash.
After all, Golden Wind was a subsidiary under her dad’s Shen Capital.
She was just the CEO in charge of day-to-day operations.
So the company’s profits had little to do with her personal wallet.
As working capital, company profits stayed in the corporate account and were monitored by the group.
As CEO, Shen Miaomiao was only entitled to a portion of the cash dividend.
And according to company policy, for an unlisted, still-growing company like Golden Wind—especially one with major capital spending plans—the cash dividend couldn’t exceed 10% of total profits.
Which meant—
If a game cost 20,000 to make,
If Shen Miaomiao lost all of it, the system would immediately compensate her with two million, directly deposited into her personal account in a “reasonable” way.
But if she didn’t lose money, she’d need sales to hit a whopping 22 million to theoretically receive a two million dividend.
Just thinking with her knees was enough to know—that’s never gonna happen!
Thinking that, Shen Miaomiao swung her long legs up onto the desk, leaned back into a comfy pose, and muttered:
“So yeah,”
“I’ll just stick to being a couch potato,”
“Losing money’s way easier than making it…”