Agreeing to Create Bad Games, What the Hell Is ‘Titanfall’? Chapter 33
“How much!?”
Swish! Shen Miaomiao snapped her leg back off the desk, her expression full of disbelief as she looked at Chu Qingzhou.
“Four hundred and... twenty-eighth,” Chu Qingzhou repeated.
Shen Miaomiao was stunned.
Wait, what?
“I thought there were less than 600 entries total?” she asked.
Chu Qingzhou nodded. “A total of 582 games entered the competition.”
“We’re ranked 428th?” Shen Miaomiao looked like she’d just heard something absurd.
But Chu Qingzhou nodded again, firmly.
Shen Miaomiao couldn’t help but suck in a breath.
Logically, her first reaction to such a wonderfully crappy ranking should’ve been, “Heck yeah!”
After all, the voting results were theoretically tied directly to future sales.
Such a miserable rank meant one thing: the game was destined to crash and burn.
But!
Something felt off.
She’d been keeping a close eye on Vampire Survivors’ popularity among players lately.
And judging from the hype among streamers and the constant praise from fans, there was no way their game should have ended up with such a pitiful first-round vote count.
Saying they were a guaranteed first place might be too bold.
But making it into the top ten? That should’ve been no problem at all.
“Four hundred-something…”
Shen Miaomiao furrowed her brows and looked at Chu Qingzhou.
“Are you sure this data is accurate?”
“Hard to say, Boss,” Chu Qingzhou shook her head.
“Our backend doesn’t show daily vote totals, so there’s no way to verify it.”
“But…”
Her tone shifted as she continued.
“There’s another issue—this one with actual data behind it.”
“Talk.”
Shen Miaomiao’s expression turned serious, motioning for Chu Qingzhou to sit and take her time.
And here’s where Chu Qingzhou really proved her worth as a top-tier Executive Assistant.
Over the past several days, she’d been compiling a regular data summary on Vampire Survivors—covering everything from mainstream game media coverage to forum mentions, and even tracking how often the game showed up on the front page of the YiYou Platform’s random ranking list.
“There’s something off about YiYou’s random rankings,” Chu Qingzhou explained.
“According to the official announcement from YiYou, during the Dev Festival, each page of the rankings would display 50 games, refreshed once an hour using a pseudo-random algorithm.”
“The idea was to give every game equal exposure, ensuring a fair promotional environment.”
Shen Miaomiao nodded. “Yeah, I know.”
She had even toyed with the idea of pulling some strings—maybe asking YiYou to bury their game a bit, play a little hide-and-seek with players to lower visibility and tank sales.
But it was just a fleeting thought.
YiYou had made such a fuss about being “fair” that she didn’t want to end up backfiring on herself.
“But—”
Chu Qingzhou turned her laptop around.
“Based on my tracking, over the past week…”
“Our game Vampire Survivors appeared on the first page of the random ranking list zero times.”
“On page one of the list? Zero times.”
“Within the first five pages? Also zero times.”
“On page nine? 130 times.”
“On page ten? 30 times.”
“On the last page? 6 times.”
After she finished, Chu Qingzhou looked at Shen Miaomiao.
“One refresh per hour, 24 times a day, 168 times a week,” she added.
Shen Miaomiao’s face visibly darkened.
“So out of 168 refreshes, not even once did we show up in the first five pages?”
Gulp.
Chu Qingzhou swallowed nervously as she saw the storm cloud brewing on the young lady’s face.
She’d never seen Boss Lady look this pissed.
She nodded carefully. “Uh… yeah. That’s right.”
“Hah.”
Shen Miaomiao nodded slowly.
She opened a drawer, unwrapped a lollipop, and popped it into her mouth—clearly trying to calm herself down.
“Let’s assume the random ranking algorithm is bugged,” she said.
“But how do you explain the 428th place voting rank? Another ‘bug’?”
“I’ve been watching how much buzz our game’s getting these days.”
“One in every ten posts talks about it. Nearly half the streamers on the big three platforms are playing it. We’ve got a 98% positive rating.”
“This shady business is happening right under my nose?”
That’s right!
Shen Miaomiao might be a couch potato, and she’d always taken pride in being a top-tier one.
But just because she was lazy didn’t mean she was stupid!
She had a dual first-class university degree in Financial Engineering, and her father’s business empire spanned a dozen industries. She grew up surrounded by top-tier decision-making.
How could she not smell something fishy?
She was absolutely sure—there was something seriously wrong with that ranking system!
Shen Miaomiao’s temper flared in an instant!
You think you can play me?!
What, you think I’m not awake yet?!
Not only were they deliberately nerfing her game’s placement on the random rankings—they were even stealing votes now?
Sure, she was the one who wanted to be a hands-off boss and deliberately invest in “failures.”
But that was her choice!
Her life motto was:
I can choose to be a failure, but you don’t get to treat me like one.
You really think this great-aunt is some pushover?
Are you outta your f***ing mind?!
“Motherf***er…”
Crunch—she bit into the lollipop like it was someone’s skull.
“These f***ers really think the Monkey King doesn’t have a third eye, huh?”
With a flick of her hand, she barked:
“Book us tickets. We’re going to Zhongjing. I’ll ask YiYou what the h*ll they’re playing at—face to face.”
Zhongjing was only 40 minutes away from Binjiang by high-speed rail.
“But…”
Seeing that the boss lady was really pissed off, Chu Qingzhou hesitated, carefully reminding her:
“President Shen, we might be able to explain the random rankings issue… but the vote rigging…”
“We don’t have hard evidence to prove they stole votes.”
A reasonable concern.
You can’t just accuse organizers of fraud without receipts.
But Shen Miaomiao let out a cold laugh.
She pulled out the lollipop stick, flicked it into the trash, and a chill glinted in her eyes.
“I’m Shen Wanlin’s daughter. If I say they cheated, do I need proof?”
Chu Qingzhou froze, a chill running down her spine.
Oh, right.
Shen Miaomiao usually acted like a lazy, harmless girl, always smiling, easygoing, and carefree.
Cute and a little spoiled.
But people tended to forget—behind that carefree gamer girl persona…
She was also the daughter of Shen Wanlin, a titan of industry with ruthless methods and astronomical assets.
To outsiders, that line might’ve sounded ridiculously arrogant.
But to Chu Qingzhou—personally assigned by Lao Shen—it made perfect sense.
Forget the YiYou Platform—if Shen Wanlin really got pissed, even YiYou’s parent company could be looking at a boardroom reshuffle tomorrow.
“Booking now!”
Shen Miaomiao didn’t waste another word and tossed a lollipop to Chu Qingzhou.
Chu Qingzhou caught it and flashed an OK gesture.
“On it!”
Tsk tsk. As she booked the tickets, Chu Qingzhou clicked her tongue inwardly.
Some poor fool just kicked a f***ing steel wall.