Agreeing to Create Bad Games, What the Hell Is ‘Titanfall’? Chapter 79
Grunt!
A figure in overalls landed steadily on top of Winter Melon’s head.
As that brainwashing music blared across the arena, Winter Melon staggered like he was drunk, wobbling all over the place under Overall Pigeon’s control!
The livestream exploded!
“WTF!”
“Don’t forget to bring your mod to court!”
“I told you, no one can resist the basketball!”
“Better be you (points)”
“Winter Melon: Litchi! How am I supposed to litchi like this? (staggering)”
“I’m really curious about the mental state of these mod creators.”
“You’ve clearly never seen Chicken Bro’s Witch mod. That thing dribbles like a beast and just smashes you to the ground. On expert difficulty, you’re dead in one hit.”
“Just the description sounds totally bonkers.”
“Wait a sec, why do I have a basketball in my hand now?”
“You guys are really something, hahaha...”
“F**k you, Liu Di! Help... me!!!”
Despite the Chicken Bro’s music blaring in 360 surround sound, Winter Melon still caught Liu Di’s breathless laughter behind him, so wild it sounded like he was about to suffocate:
“I... I’m gonna die... GNMD... help...!!!”
“On it, on it, on it!”
Liu Di was laughing so hard he could barely breathe.
He threw down the out-of-ammo blue-flame Gatling, whipped out his Fire Qilin, and aimed straight at the rapper performing on Winter Melon’s head.
But at that exact split second!
“ROAR——!!!”
A deafening roar erupted from the side.
Liu Di’s FPS instincts kicked in, and he immediately thought, This is bad!
He dove into a slide and rolled right off the car roof!
Whoosh—
A massive, sweat-drop emoji, at least half the length of a person, barely grazed his scalp as it flew past!
“Holy sh*t!”
Liu Di popped his head out, eyes wide, looking toward the direction the sweat-drop came from.
And there it was!
Just ten meters away, a hulking green giant glared at him with pure malice.
In that split-second stare-down, the green giant cracked a crooked grin, and it was enough to make Liu Di think of some very bad things.
The next moment—
The giant dug its hands into the ground and ripped up a stone slab, now covered in a giant sweat-drop emoji, and hurled it straight at him!
Whoosh!
BANG!
The car in front of Liu Di was sent flying.
He let out a guttural howl—
“Eggplant! Help——!!!”
That’s right!
Eggplant was still there!
He’d been lying low on the scaffolding platform, providing sniper support because his health was critically low.
So far, Eggplant had taken out three self-destructing Patrick Specials, two chain-smoking Smokers, and who-knows-how-many common zombies.
The original plan was to wait for the power to recharge and then have the three below retreat to him.
But now, with the whole team in crisis, he had no choice but to make a move!
“I’m f***ing coming!”
Eggplant pushed himself up from the platform, grabbed his precious medkit:
“Let me patch up, I’m coming to save you guys!”
Just as the “Healing Yourself” bar appeared,
A light, upbeat tune floated into his ears—
Ohhhh——oh——ohhhhh——
The music was bright, energetic, and had an infectious groove.
Eggplant: ?
He froze for a second, scanning his surroundings cautiously.
They’d installed so many mods that he had no idea what might pop out with this random music.
But after a quick look around, nothing seemed off.
He frowned and muttered, “Weird.”
Then, he went back to healing.
Healing Yourself
Ohhhh——oh——ohhhhh——
“Wait, what the f***?!”
This time, Eggplant was actually startled.
What the hell is this? Why does this song play every time I heal?
Thinking for a moment, his gaze dropped to the medkit in his hands.
It had been replaced by a WWII-style mini first-aid box—he thought it was just a model swap.
But now, it seemed...
He opened the medkit.
Ohhhh——
He closed the medkit.
He opened it again.
Ohhhh——
Closed it again.
“Holy sh*t, this is hilarious...”
Just as he was about to continue investigating, Liu Di’s furious roar blasted over the team voice chat:
“F**k you, Eggplant! What the hell are you doing? Hurry up!”
“Oh, oh, oh! Okay, okay, almost done!”
Eggplant shook himself awake, dropped the curiosity, and opened the medkit without hesitation.
Suddenly!
A cheerful little tune blasted across the arena—
Ohhhh——oh——ohhhhh——
California girls, we’re unforgettable!
Daisy Dukes, bikinis on top!
It was California Gurls, the song that had taken the overseas internet by storm!
As the bright tune played, Eggplant felt his body moving on its own, arms raised high as he started an awkward dance right where he stood.
Kinda like a clumsy elk stomping the ground, kinda like a gorilla trying to mate.
The goofy dance moves, paired with the happy little tune, created an explosive comedic effect!
That’s right!
This was a combo mod!
Not only did it add the music, but it also swapped the original healing animation into a hilariously stupid dance!
As the music blared, the three down below couldn’t help but turn and look.
Seeing Eggplant dancing right there, they froze for a beat—
Then exploded!
“Fk you, Eggplant! I told you to cover us! What the f* are you doing?!”
“You’re a fing piece of sht—!”
“Stop fing dancing! You’re so dumb I can’t even deal with you, you f**ing troll!”
“...”
In an instant, the whole place descended into chaos!
The zombie horde’s howls shook the skies.
Xiaohei, down on the ground, fired desperately in a last-ditch struggle.
Winter Melon, with Chicken Bro riding on his head, stumbled and screamed as he darted around in the chaos.
Liu Di, chased by the green giant and pelted with sweat-drop emojis, ran for his life while cursing.
And Eggplant—
He stood under the last glow of the setting sun, grinning from ear to ear, dancing joyfully as California Gurls played—
Sun-kissed skin, so hot we’ll melt your popsicle!
Ohhhh——oh——ohhhhh——
The dance was happy, the music uplifting.
But louder than the song were the furious shouts of his teammates—
“Eggplant! WDNMD! You’re the f***ing worst—!!!”
The chat was losing it!
“‘You Never Know What Your Teammates Are Doing’”
“‘The Healing Tune’”
“This mod is so fing dumb, hahaha!”
“Help, I’m laughing so hard I can’t breathe.”
“This is like a zombie comedy movie.”
“I’m fing rolling on the floor here.”
“Teammates getting grabbed, laughing their a**es off, healing and singing at the same time.”
“This mod is such a troll.”
“Too much damn entertainment value.”
“Hahahaha... gagging with laughter...”
“...”
Laughter and cheers filled the air!
Just as Gu Sheng had predicted.
Thanks to its easy-to-use creation tools and fully open design, the Workshop had quickly become a fan favorite.
Even though, on the visible marketing front, Left 4 Dead was at a total disadvantage.
Every major media outlet, every social platform was filled with news about Fearless Sniper pioneering a new RFPS era.
Articles and commentary, both real and manufactured, flooded in:
“Fearless Sniper, the true beacon of domestic FPS games!”
“The innovative RFPS is truly refreshing!”
“Deserves to be a major studio’s work—other domestic developers should learn from them.”
“The visuals and effects of this title are absolutely top-notch, and with the RFPS mode? I’m completely in love!”
“Support domestic games! Support Xunteng!”
“RFPS is a stroke of genius—probably even international studios will follow their lead!”
“...”
Yet, in the forums under these sites, a totally different story was playing out—
“Left 4 Dead Mod Recommendations 5.0”
“Guys, anyone got a guide for Changteng Hospital map?”
“Found another abstract mod author.”
“Looking for someone to help with Stormfront, that map is a nightmare.”
“Rational analysis: What exactly makes Left 4 Dead’s gameplay so good, and why even a billion-yuan sniper game can’t beat it.”
“I refuse to believe no one’s seen Eggplant dance yet.”
“...”
It was pure, harmonious chaos.
Players were actively discussing Left 4 Dead, sharing mod names, recommending useful add-ons, exchanging creation tips, and—of course—posting the usual “Left 4 Dead is the best game ever, hands down.”
The players’ love for the game seemed entirely unaffected by outside marketing.
Left 4 Dead had no presence in official media.
Fearless Sniper was barely mentioned in player communities.
The two games were like rivers running parallel, utterly distinct and worlds apart.
Though both existed side by side, they couldn’t have been more different.
For Golden Wind, this situation was perfectly acceptable.
What matters most in a game?
The players’ approval, of course!
Players are the lifeblood of any studio, the ones who drive sales. Their approval is worth more than any fancy media write-up.
So for Gu Sheng, not only was this outcome acceptable—it couldn’t have been better!
From a certain perspective, the players’ word-of-mouth promotion had even saved him a fortune in marketing costs!
But for Guangyao Games...
Well, they couldn’t accept this situation at all.
No—they absolutely couldn’t accept it!
...
Bang!
The next day.
As the secretary handed over the sales report, Ding Kai couldn’t help himself. He slammed the report on his desk, fingers trembling.
It was Saturday.
Left 4 Dead’s sixth day on the market.
Fearless Sniper’s fifth.
And as of midnight today,
Left 4 Dead had somehow carved out a bloody path through Guangyao’s overwhelming marketing siege and overtaken them in single-day sales.
An upset in the gutter!
This had never happened before!
Staring at the sales comparison chart, Ding Kai’s face darkened as if it could drip ink.
The blue sales line for Fearless Sniper had been dropping since day one—normal for a game’s release curve.
After all, 99.9% of games see their highest sales on release day, followed by a decline.
But the red line for Left 4 Dead was absolutely bonkers.
It sold 32,000 copies on day one, then dropped below 20,000 on day two.
It was clear that Guangyao’s marketing blitz was effective at first.
On day three, Left 4 Dead’s sales bottomed out at less than 12,000.
Ding Kai still remembered—he and Fang Hongwei popped champagne that day, thinking the battle was over, the outcome sealed.
Golden Wind was surrounded, a lamb to the slaughter, no way to fight back.
But then!
The day after, Golden Wind launched the Workshop—
And the sales curve bounced back!
Day four! Day five!
Left 4 Dead surged as if injected with adrenaline, roaring back into the fight and catching up to Fearless Sniper.
And finally, today!
On Left 4 Dead’s sixth day,
The game not only achieved a reversal in sales, but also matched its first-day numbers—
And surpassed Fearless Sniper by 2,200 copies!
Ding Kai gritted his teeth so hard he thought they’d shatter.
Why?!
He’d been in the industry for years—
But never, never had he seen anyone survive a siege from Guangyao like this!
His chest heaved with anger, a boulder of frustration stuck in his throat.
After all—
Guangyao had spent a fortune on this takedown.
The marketing budget alone was as much as Left 4 Dead’s entire production cost!
All to crush Left 4 Dead and claim the “Second-Gen FPS” for themselves, rebranding it as their original concept.
Yet despite the overwhelming investment, relentless pursuit, and airtight suppression—
Golden Wind, with a single “Workshop” move, had turned the tables.
They rallied the player base, dissolved Guangyao’s fierce assault,
And—worse yet—overtook them!
It was like a heavyweight match where Guangyao, the Tyson of the ring, swung a knockout punch at Golden Wind, expecting them to crumble.
But instead of a frail nobody, Golden Wind turned out to be Zhang Sanfeng—
Effortlessly parrying the attack, then slapping them back across the face.
The humiliation was unbearable.
Ding Kai slammed the table.
“Poach their people!”
“D*mn it!”
“We have to accelerate the poaching operation and tear Golden Wind apart!”
If they couldn’t win openly—
Then they’d go dirty.
The term “Second-Gen FPS” had to be theirs.
From now on, in gaming history, this genre of shooter would only have one name:
Guangyao RPFS.