Agreeing to Create Bad Games, What the Hell Is ‘Titanfall’? Chapter 77

"Alright, thank you for taking the call. Have a great day. Goodbye—"

Done!

As the final call ended, Wang Xiaoming finally let out a long sigh of relief.

As an office drone, his daily grind was simple—sit by the phone, dial number after number, and pitch insurance to strangers.

Day in, day out, the same cycle repeated.

His life, much like his name, was plain, uneventful, and as tasteless as water.

The only thing that added a bit of excitement to his life was gaming after work.

To be honest, he wasn’t even that into games—

but in his boring, routine life, he felt he needed something different.

Lately, Wang Xiaoming had been playing a game called Left 4 Dead.

He always played on the easiest mode, sticking to melee weapons, just to enjoy the visceral thrill of close-quarters combat.

Because it seemed like the only quick and cheap way to put a genuine smile on his poker face.

As usual, he logged onto YiYou Platform and booted up Left 4 Dead.

But as he was about to dive into a standard session, a new option popped up that shattered the usual monotony—

[Enable mod?]

Mod?

Wang Xiaoming blinked.

Curious, he clicked in, and a graphic-rich, multi-select screen appeared—

[M4 Gun Mod: Golden (adds a Golden Wind logo skin to the weapon)]

[Homemade Grenade Mod: Confetti (replaces explosion effect with a confetti burst)]

[Common Zombie Mod: Tiger Baby Hat (all zombies wear cute tiger hats)]

...

Driven by curiosity, Wang Xiaoming subscribed to all seven or eight mods.

Back in the game,

Wang Xiaoming was stunned—

His familiar guns were now blinged-out in gaudy gold, bullets leaving behind golden tracers that looked ridiculously cool.

His humble grenades no longer exploded into fireballs but into showers of confetti.

And the zombies?

Every single one of them was wearing a classic tiger hat like Stephen Chow’s Wei Xiaobao—

familiar yet strange, creepy yet hilarious.

This bizarre experience made Wang Xiaoming feel like he’d found something refreshingly out of the ordinary in his otherwise predictable life.

"Wait... if I’m not mistaken, there was a 'Create My Own' button under the mod subscription, right?"

With that thought, he quickly exited the game, went back to the menu, and clicked on the Mod section again.

Sure enough, a bold [Create My Own - Enter Creative Workshop] button was there.

Now this was interesting!

Wang Xiaoming’s eyes lit up.

See, before becoming a call center rep, his major in college was Modern Art Design,

and he’d even taught himself some computer programming!

Which meant...

"Those mods... I can make them too?"

Upon entering the Creative Workshop, a work panel popped up, along with a few lines of text—

Welcome to the Creative Workshop! Here, you can customize every aspect of the game.

With Golden Wind and YiYou’s collaborative support, mod development difficulty has been drastically reduced, ensuring your creativity can be quickly implemented in-game.

Of course, creativity is meant to be shared! Once your mod is complete, you can choose to publish it in the Workshop and share your genius with other players.

Now, start your journey of customization—

"Holy sh*t—"

Wang Xiaoming was floored.

This game...

was insanely generous!

In a market dominated by microtransactions, reskins, and paywalls,

where every weapon, skin, or even a loading screen effect was monetized to the max,

developers usually hated player-made content.

After all, talent is everywhere—

there are always players who can create weapons, skins, or models even better than the official ones.

Which is exactly why studios crack down on player mods—

it threatens their bottom line, their money, their lifeblood.

No one wants to hand over control to the players.

But Golden Wind had broken the mold.

Not only did they encourage players to make their own weapon skins and custom game content,

they even made mods compatible,

providing a platform for players to showcase and share their creativity!

"I have to try this!"

With that thought, Wang Xiaoming confirmed the prompt, entered the editor interface, and after thinking for a bit, decided to start small—

he’d make a mod for his favorite melee weapon.

"A... lightsaber katana, maybe?"

That night, in the stillness of the world,

the Creative Workshop gave Wang Xiaoming a spark of unexpected joy in an otherwise ordinary day.

And like him, many other players also started creating their own wild and wonderful mods.

Two days later.

Friday night.

When A-Yin returned to his streaming setup and turned on the camera,

the entire chat erupted in cheers!

‘Oh look who finally showed up, little Yin!’

‘You’re finally done, huh?’

‘Wait... why does that sound weird? The boss just took YiYi on a trip for two days, didn’t he?’

‘Be honest, you didn’t take YiYi to the zoo to play monkey for cash, did you?’

‘Stealing bamboo shoots, eh?’

‘Fair enough. After all, YiYi has been grinding for you every day—she deserves a treat.’

‘《Daddy, Stop It. YiYi is Working.》’

‘Good thing you’re back. Less chit-chat, more gameplay. Left 4 Dead’s been updated!’

‘...’

Reading the chat’s banter, A-Yin couldn’t help but grin.

Cursing at his viewers while laughing—

he’d been streaming for so long, he had feelings for this place.

Even though it was work, he missed it after just a few days away.

Plus, he hadn’t killed zombies in days—he was getting the itch.

"Updated, huh?"

Noticing the chat’s reminder, A-Yin stood up, booting up his motion-sensing pod.

"What’s the update?"

The chat exploded—

‘They added a Creative Workshop. It’s f***ing awesome!’

‘Left 4 Dead is totally cracked now. Hundreds of mods go up every day—you can’t even browse them all!’

‘Speaking of which, I have to recommend JiGe’s stuff!’

‘That mod is so damn ridiculous!’

‘Also, check out Ordinary Xiao Wang’s weapon mods. Especially the Star Wars lightsaber—must sub!’

‘Don’t forget the Weak Sound Waifu character mod!’

‘Your waifu is awesome...’

‘The Railgun Girl’s coin sniper is pretty fun too...’

‘...’

Seeing the chat buzzing with excitement, A-Yin was baffled.

Huh?

What the heck were they talking about?

Wasn’t Left 4 Dead a zombie shooter?

What did all this random crap have to do with it—JiGe, lightsabers, waifus, railgun girls?

It all felt so disconnected, like he’d woken up in a different dimension.

"I mean... I don’t get it. What are you all even talking about?"

A-Yin was totally lost.

"You’re talking about... Left 4 Dead, right?"

The viewers burst out laughing, spamming the chat:

"Enough talk, get your squad, hop in—you’ll see."

His curiosity piqued, A-Yin didn’t hesitate.

He roped in Liuliu, Zhou-jie, and Bobo—the survivor squad was back!

As soon as he entered the game, he couldn’t hold back anymore:

"Hey, hey, Zhou-jie, did you and Bobo play Left 4 Dead these past two days?"

He knew Liuliu had been busy with a Shanghai gaming event, so he asked the other two.

Zhou-jie shook her head:

"We wanted to, but without you and Liuliu-jie, we didn’t really dare."

It was the truth—

even though this was a hack-and-slash game,

in a motion-sensing pod, watching hordes of zombies swarm you was nerve-wracking.

Plus, with their terrible aim, they didn’t have the guts to try it solo.

Besides, this game was something they all started together—

they should finish it together.

"Zhou Zhou and I have been waiting for you guys!"

Bobo chimed in with a grin.

Their words made the four of them smile in unison.

That’s gaming for you—

especially multiplayer games.

Maybe it was the gameplay, the mechanics, or the visuals that drew you in at first—

but once you started playing with friends, those things didn’t matter anymore.

What mattered was the people—the friends you could laugh, shout, and play with.

That’s why, even though Zhou-jie and the others were... less than stellar,

A-Yin still wanted to play with them.

"Alright, then we’re all going in blind."

A-Yin chuckled.

"The chat says the game got an update—some kind of Creative Workshop module."

As he spoke,

A-Yin loaded into the game.

Sure enough, beneath the Start Campaign button on the main menu,

a bold [Enable mod] option had appeared.

Clicking in, A-Yin couldn’t help but let out a gasp:

"Holy sh*t—what are all these things?!"

The Workshop interface was packed—

mods of all kinds, too many to count.

Thanks to the support of the dev tools,

modding in this world was easy—

practically idiot-proof.

As long as you had a bit of coding and modeling knowledge,

you could whip up a basic mod in an hour.

Even more complex map mods only took about eight hours tops.

So in just two days, nearly three thousand mods had passed YiYou’s review and gone live.

Weapons, character models, item effects, soundpacks—

you name it, they had it, sprouting like mushrooms after the rain.

A-Yin was overwhelmed, his choice paralysis kicking in.

Thankfully, the chat was there to guide him—

he sorted by popularity and picked the top ten mods, all highly recommended by viewers.

As for the other three?

They just sat back, arms crossed, leaving it all to him.

Since A-Yin was the host, his selections would sync to everyone else.

After some clicking and confirming,

A-Yin exited the Workshop:

"Alright, we’ll go with these for now. I have no clue what you guys picked for me, though."

He grinned, knowing full well—

with his years of streaming experience,

whatever his chat suggested definitely wouldn’t be nice.

As the screen faded to black,

A-Yin opened his eyes—

and before he could even check what weapons were in the safe room—

A shriek from behind:

"Yo! Boss! That twin-tail look is kinda fire!"

Huh?

A-Yin turned around—

and saw KDA Akali standing behind him, Zhou-jie’s ID floating above.

Next to her, a tiny girl in a purple hippo hat—Wang Bobo.

Beside her, a White Moon Kui model from Ling Cage—Liuliu.

Reskin mods?!

Holy sh*t—this was next-level!

A-Yin gaped, finally grasping what mods could do.

Turns out, the stuff he’d just subscribed to could replace in-game models!

Looking at his squad—each more gorgeous than the last—

A-Yin turned to the safe room mirror...

and saw himself.

Two long, pale green twin-tails nearly sweeping the floor,

a sleeveless white blouse, a matching mini necktie,

a pleated mini skirt, black thigh-high socks, and little loafers.

Oh, and a pair of green onions tucked into his waistband.

A-Yin stared at his reflection in stunned silence for five whole seconds.

Then, the chat exploded—

"Holy sh*t, which of you bastards picked this mod for the boss?!!"

The viewers were dying—

‘HAHAHAHA I never thought I’d live to see the boss in a dress!’

‘The Debut of Yin, The Future’

‘LMAO The Debut of Yin, The Future—I’m crying—’

‘Okay, but the model is pretty cute.’

‘Cute, sure... but who’s using it matters too.’

‘Bro, this is straight-up Tianjin Hatsune Miku!’

‘Kou ni ji wa, ha ji mei ma shi te. Breakfast ready—jianbing guozi, ga ba cai~’

‘I’m seeing black spots—’

‘I’ll never look at Miku the same way again...’

‘This game is going completely off the rails...’