Agreeing to Create Bad Games, What the Hell Is ‘Titanfall’? Chapter 56
“Holy sh*t—!!!”
“Dmn, this is insane! I’ve got goosebumps all over!”
“F***, this is so damn creepy! Even the live stream’s audio is in surround sound!”
“Feels like something’s breathing right next to my ear!”
“Piāo Teacher just got scared offline, hahahahaha!”
“I swear, this isn’t even Piāo’s fault for being scared. I’m just watching the stream and I’m already shivering!”
“D*mn, this game is way too scary.”
“And the craziest part is, Piāo still hasn’t even seen the ghost yet!”
“Can’t imagine what it’ll be like once the ghost actually shows up.”
“Is Sheng-ge just out here messing with people’s minds every day or what?”
“Click to check the game designer’s mental state.”
“……”
The barrage of comments in the chat was non-stop!
It was obvious—this method of horror, where you hear the ghost but never see it, was completely beyond what gamers of this era expected from a horror game.
Combined with the no-weapons design, it showcased this new form of psychological terror to the fullest!
Sure, back in Gu Sheng’s previous life, this game might not have been seen as that extreme.
But don’t forget—
In this world, Gu Sheng had adapted it for haptic pods!
And poured nearly two million yuan into upgrading it across the board!
No exaggeration, Phasmophobia’s arrival was a full-on dimensional smash against the once-dominant jumpscare games!
What is true horror?
It’s not about shoving a ghost in your face.
Because no matter how good your visuals are, there’s always a limit.
But the human imagination?
That’s boundless!
Clearly, Gu Sheng had grasped this concept perfectly—he laid down subtle hints throughout the levels and then just let the players’ imaginations run wild.
And once that fear reached its peak—
A single well-timed trigger was enough to create an absolutely top-tier horror effect!
Like that chilling breath in bdd’s ear just now.
Seeing the power of this new game, the stream viewers were hyped to the max!
They started spreading the word like crazy across the streaming platform—
“What? A horror game?”
Seeing the chat filled with Phasmophobia messages, A-Yin sneered, unimpressed.
“Pfft, nah. Not interested, no thanks.”
He pointed at himself and smirked:
“My long-time viewers know me, right? What do they call me again?”
“Yin the Fearless!”
“Back in the day, when horror games were blowing up on the haptic pods, you ask around—what game haven’t I played?”
“And guess what happened? When people heard my name, all those ghosts and monsters just stayed the hell away!”
Sure, A-Yin was talking big.
But you had to admit—back when haptic pod horror games were all the rage, he did play a ton of them.
Maybe at first, those games felt a little scary.
But as time passed and you got better weapons, the fear wore off.
And with all those copy-paste jumpscare games flooding the market, A-Yin had become immune to them.
Same formula, same routine, nothing new.
In fact, the genre had become so stale, he was starting to get annoyed with horror games altogether.
So he was about to wave it off:
“My Yunwei pod’s out for repairs, and all I’ve got at home is the YiYou pod—barely any supported games on it. Can’t play anyway.”
But as soon as he said that—
The chat blew up!
“Isn’t that just perfect!”
“You’re literally walking right into the line of fire!”
“Yin the Fearless! Your moment has come!”
“Guess what? This game is on YiYou!”
“HAHAHAHAHA bro, you just flipped your own car…”
“It’s Golden Wind—quality guaranteed!”
“Brand-new horror concept. Guaranteed to give you nightmares (or at least deep regrets).”
“Yo, all these people coming from Piāo’s stream too?”
“Hahahaha they scared Piāo off, time for a new victim!”
“Monkey bro is so unlucky, hahahaha…”
With the chat hyping it up like they were on a sugar high, A-Yin, who was about to pass, hesitated.
What game could get them this excited?
And they were all acting so damn suspicious…
“Golden Wind? They’re doing haptic pod games now too?”
A-Yin laughed in disbelief.
“A horror game, no less? That’s… quite the genre jump.”
In his mind, Golden Wind was just a small studio known for quirky, high-quality mini-games.
Masters of gimmicks, kings of abstract, fountains of inspiration.
He never would’ve guessed that after three months of radio silence, Golden Wind had been working on a haptic pod game.
And it was horror?!
He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d seen a haptic pod horror game.
“Seriously? It’s that scary?”
A-Yin was skeptical, but his body betrayed him—he was already standing up.
He had a soft spot for Golden Wind, after all.
Their three games spoke for themselves. Whether or not they were revolutionary, each one had its charm.
And just for Vampire Survivor alone, A-Yin felt he had to give it a try.
A textbook case of "talking trash but still playing."
He dragged out his YiYou X1 pod—it was pink, a girly color.
“This was for Nana to watch movies and shop online, okay?”
Grinning at the flood of "You’re so sassy" comments, A-Yin chuckled and explained:
“I always used Yunwei. No way this manly man would pick a color like this, alright?”
While waiting for the haptic pod to sync with the stream, A-Yin logged into YiYou and checked out the Phasmophobia page in detail.
That bizarre promo video had him laughing out loud.
“I knew it. No way Golden Wind would make a normal horror game.”
“This actually looks kinda fun... and it’s multiplayer? I’ll grab a few teammates for later.”
Name carried weight, and soon enough, A-Yin had recruited his squad under the Golden Wind banner.
The team:
Tree-ge, the King of Pitches
Shi Liuliu, the Queen of Clickbait
Zhuang Wangye, the God of Mini-Games
Plus A-Yin himself.
With the rumble of a van engine, the four of them entered the game together—a high-profile, streamer-powered ghost-hunting squad was born!
Originally, they were supposed to start with the tutorial level, like bdd had.
But come on—this was Yin the Fearless!
In his own words: I’m a veteran of a thousand battles, who needs a tutorial?
So they picked a medium-difficulty map right off the bat.
The others? All veteran streamers too.
They’d all played horror games before, so nobody really cared.
And so—
Without any preparation or mental buildup, they opened the van door.
Hiss—
The back door creaked open, revealing an abandoned, isolated school in the middle of nowhere.
A chilly night wind blew across the small, yellowed dirt playground, nudging a tattered ball into a rusted fence—thunk.
A single dim lightbulb by the gate swung in the breeze, barely illuminating a rusted school sign—
Sunshine Elementary.
This was an intermediate-difficulty map Gu Sheng had added himself.
Whoooo—
The night wind howled, rattling the rusted iron bars.
In the distance, the two-story building loomed. Not large, but with an architectural style straight out of the 70s or 80s.
Dilapidated. Creepy as hell.
A-Yin glanced at his teammates.
One holding a camera, one with a thermometer and EMF, one with a notebook.
Not a single one looked like they could fight.
He swallowed hard.
“Uh… maybe we should go back and try the tutorial first? Why don’t we have weapons?”
Wait a second—
Where’s my gun?
How the f*** am I supposed to fight ghosts without a gun?!
But Zhuangzhuang crushed his last hope with a single line:
“Captain Yin, my chat says… this game has no weapons.”
“…What the f***?”
A-Yin’s face froze.
“What do we do when we run into a ghost then?”
“Uh…” Zhuangzhuang hesitated, then said:
“No clue. Chat says Liu-ge didn’t even see the ghost before he bailed.”
F*** me…
A-Yin’s expression twisted.
This was nuts—getting scared off before even seeing the ghost?
Even a battle-hardened vet like him was starting to feel a little nervous.
But then again…
This was a multiplayer game.
Sure, he had no weapons, but he had three teammates!
How bad could it be?
Besides, he was Yin the Fearless of Tianjin! The fearless captain of this investigation squad!
The tank of the team!
Ahem!
A-Yin waved a hand.
“No big deal! No weapons? No problem! Won’t stop us from working!”
“Besides, we’ve got four people! Strength in numbers! Are we seriously scared of a little ghost?”
He started assigning roles:
“Zhuangzhuang and Liuliu, search the first floor. Tree-ge and I’ll take the second. The ghost’s name is Xiaoxiong—our data shows he’s in the school building. We have two minutes of safe time. Stay in touch.”
He lifted his walkie-talkie.
“Got it!”
The team nodded.
A-Yin took the lead, pushing open the iron gate with a creak.
They approached the entrance.
The door opened—
And an instant chill hit them.
Especially A-Yin.
He’d played so many horror games.
Most used background noise or creepy music at most.
But Phasmophobia’s deep, hollow bass sound design was like nothing he’d ever experienced.
It made him feel like he was standing alone in a dark cave, completely isolated and helpless.
That sense of dread only intensified when they reached the second floor.
The wide corridor was pitch-black.
Every step crunched over broken glass on the floor.
A-Yin and Tree-ge moved slowly, one holding the EMF and a walkie, the other a camera—creeping forward like commandos on a mission.
The iron doors on either side were chipped and peeling, some half-open, some shut tight, a scene of decay and ruin.
“This place is f***ing ancient…” A-Yin muttered, his voice echoing.
“Yeah, feels like a horror movie set,” Tree-ge nodded. “In such a big place, how the hell are we supposed to find the ghost?”
“Chat says you can call out its name to lure it out. I’ll give it a shot.”
A-Yin cleared his throat, then bellowed:
“Xiaoxiong? Xiaoxiong! This is Teacher Yin! Where are you? If you’re there, say something—I still haven’t given you your homework!”
“Xiaoxiong? Xiaoxiong, where are you? Teacher Yin’s here with your quiz!”
The chat was cringing like crazy.
“Bro, you’re the real monster here. Chasing down kids with homework?”
“HAHAHAHAHA you’re not even human!”
“I think I get why Xiaoxiong can’t rest in peace now.”
“Xiaoxiong: Maybe I’m not human, but you’re definitely a dog.”
“Yo, heads up. The two-minute safe time’s almost up—after that, the ghost can start hunting.”
“Xiaoxiong: I can’t wait even a f***ing minute more!”
“Man, I feel bad for the kid…”
Seeing A-Yin’s absurd ghost-summoning method, Tree-ge couldn’t help but crack up.
“Dude, you’re scarier than the ghosts. Maybe I should skip the ghost photos and just take one of you instead…”
And he actually did—he raised the camera and click, snapped a shot of A-Yin.
A-Yin grinned and threw up a peace sign.
Zzzzt—
The Polaroid printed the photo.
Tree-ge shook it a few times, joking:
“I’ll keep this as a talisman.”
He looked at the photo—
“…Huh?”
Hearing Tree-ge trail off, A-Yin turned around.
“What’s up?”
Tree-ge had frozen, staring at the photo, his hand trembling.
“Bro, what’s going on? You lagging or what? Why are you shaking?”
“…I’m not lagging.”
After a pause, Tree-ge looked up, voice low:
“My hands are shaking. I can’t stop it.”
“What do you mean? You got Parkinson’s or something?”
Tree-ge didn’t answer.
He just handed the photo to A-Yin, signaling for him to take a look.
Suspicious, A-Yin grabbed it, holding it under his flashlight.
At first glance, it looked fine—himself, posing with a peace sign, his expression a little stiff, fingers sticking out.
The flash had washed out his face, making it look pale, almost bloodless.
But.
Next to it…
Compared to a face so pale it was almost like a blank sheet of paper…
His own face looked downright healthy.
Because in that photo, perched on his shoulder…
Was a ghastly white face.
A little boy’s face.
Eyebrows missing.
Eyes hollow, like someone had gouged them out.
Mouth wide open in a grotesque scream, arms wrapped tight around A-Yin’s shoulders.
It was clear—in the moment the photo was taken, the boy had been clinging to A-Yin’s back.
A-Yin felt his scalp go numb, his hair standing on end.
The next second—
A blood-curdling scream echoed through the hallway!
“Holy st! There’s a ghost on my f*ing shoulder—!!!”
A-Yin jumped like he’d been shocked by electricity.
At the same time—
His EMF detector blared.
Beep—!!!
The piercing alarm cut through the hallway, the ghost signal maxed out.
And then—
Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam!
The broken classroom doors slammed shut one after another, like something was violently slamming them.
A-Yin and Tree-ge’s flashlights started flickering like they were about to die.
Their hearts were in their throats.
Because in those brief flashes of light, they could see it.
The little boy from the photo.
Standing at the end of the hallway.
And in that chaotic strobe of the flashlight, the boy’s mouth opened in a wide, feral scream—like a dying cat.
But—
The ghost’s scream was drowned out by their own—
“AAAAAAHHHHH!!!”
“F***! Captain Yin! He’s coming!!!”
“I’m not blind, I can see! What the hell do we do?!”
“Run! F***! Run!”
“Holy sh** why’s the fire door closed too?!”
“Hey—hey hey hey! Let’s talk this out, kid! Teacher Yin just wanted to give you your homework, no hard feelings!”
“D*mn it, Tree-ge! This is all your fault! I’m not done with you yet—AAAAH!!!”
No cheap jumpscare.
No sudden pop-outs around the corner.
Nothing they were used to.
But—
It was a hundred times scarier than any jumpscare.
Because just before the flashlight finally died, A-Yin saw it.
Xiaoxiong’s face.
Right. In. Front. Of. His.
The EMF alarms, the flickering lights, their desperate screams—
It all filled the stream chat with an overwhelming sense of dread.
And then—
A pair of ghastly white hands reached from behind A-Yin, slowly covering his panicked eyes.
The chilling crack of bones breaking echoed through the stream.
And then—
Pop!
The flashlight exploded.
The stream fell into dead silence.