Agreeing to Create Bad Games, What the Hell Is ‘Titanfall’? Chapter 90
“…Lastly, let me emphasize once more: no one is allowed to work overtime without my explicit approval! That’s all—dismissed!”
Shen Miaomiao was a woman of action.
After all, whether her plan to save her little piggy bank would succeed hinged on this.
So, the very next day after flying back from Japan, Shen Miaomiao convened an all-hands company meeting.
There were only two items on the agenda:
First, the official announcement of the project’s commencement—this wasn’t that important.
Second—and much more critical—was to inform everyone that overtime work was strictly prohibited unless she personally signed off on it!
Shen Miaomiao emphasized this point twice.
After wrapping up, she declared the meeting over. Her thesis advisor had requested a video call to finalize some last-minute details.
The door closed, and the meeting room was instantly abuzz with whispers:
“Wait a sec, guys, didn’t Shen just say… you have to get her approval to work overtime?”
“Bro Yun, you need to get your ears checked. Shen said overtime requires her approval…”
“C’mon, say that again?”
“I said, Shen said working overtime needs her approval… h*ll, that doesn’t sound right, does it? Did I mishear?”
“No… Kai, what did you hear?”
“Sounded like… you need to file a report if you want to work overtime…”
Everyone stared at each other in disbelief!
It seemed like no one had misheard.
Overtime requires a report!
The fresh-out-of-college students were dumbfounded!
What?!
Isn’t the industry supposed to be a nightmare of endless overtime, toxic workplaces, and cutthroat competition?
Isn’t it all about mandatory late nights, unpaid overtime, and companies refusing to recognize death by overwork as a workplace accident?
Everyone had been bracing themselves, ready to charge into the battlefield of corporate life, fists clenched, eyes burning with righteous fury.
But this…
This left them utterly speechless.
They looked around at each other, practically wanting to slap themselves.
What kind of conditions was the company offering them?
They were given full trust, a salary on par with professionals with five years of experience, excellent office conditions, comprehensive benefits, and a promise of zero workplace toxicity!
And what did they have to offer in return?
Just a bunch of fresh grads, straight out of their ivory towers, with nothing but wide-eyed innocence and naive, foolish gazes.
They felt like they were letting the company down—big time.
Tears welled up in their eyes, and they were overcome with guilt.
Even the usually quiet Kai couldn’t help but get emotional.
Could this… actually be what the game industry is truly like?
Kai nudged Jiang Yun:
“Uh… Yun, was your last company like this too?”
At that, the other students turned to look at Jiang Yun and the veteran crew.
These old-timers had been in the game industry for over a decade—surely they’d know the real deal.
Compared to the students, they had way more experience.
And now, faced with Golden Wind’s incredible perks, they were eager to hear if Jiang Yun had lived a similar life before.
Maybe all the horror stories online were just fear-mongering?
Seeing everyone looking at him, Jiang Yun chuckled.
That laugh was a complex mix of excitement, disbelief, and the bittersweet pain of years of hardship.
“Is it always like this? Ha… hahaha…
You guys really haven’t been slapped by society yet, huh?!”
As the saying goes: Outsiders watch the fun, insiders are dumbfounded.
Jiang Yun had been in the industry for almost a decade.
Though he’d only worked for two companies, he’d seen countless colleagues and industry friends come and go.
In the gaming industry—especially in game development—working overtime was the norm.
The official “off-work” time? Just a joke.
Working two hours overtime was considered “leaving early.”
Three to four hours of overtime? That’s just business as usual.
All-nighters? Nothing out of the ordinary.
“I’ve heard of people needing a note from the boss to take time off—
but I’ve never heard of needing a note from the boss to work overtime!”
Jiang Yun let out a long sigh.
This wasn’t just sci-fi—this was pure fantasy.
He’d been drifting aimlessly in the industry for ten years, always longing for the right leader, struggling through the grind…
But now!
Golden Wind had appeared.
Shen had appeared.
Finally… the sun had risen!
Jiang Yun almost wanted to cry.
This wasn’t a company—this was a home, a place that nurtured and cared for him.
If I had never seen the light, I could have endured the darkness…
Thinking of this, Jiang Yun was overwhelmed.
He poured out every story, every hardship, every injustice he had witnessed over the past ten years, laying bare the brutal, blood-soaked reality of the industry for these wide-eyed kids.
His words were heartfelt and sorrowful, each sentence laced with emotion, every word a tear-stained lament.
The students were shocked, horrified—chills running down their spines.
Even Lu Bian and Da Jiang, the veterans, huddled close to Gu Sheng, trembling.
“…Sheng, is what Jiang said… really true?” Da Jiang’s voice trembled with fear.
Gu Sheng smirked.
It’s not just true—it’s even worse.
Having worked at a major studio himself, he knew Jiang Yun’s words were dead-on.
In fact, big companies were often even more ruthless and cutthroat than small studios.
“More or less. Probably,” Gu Sheng said vaguely, shrugging.
“Then again, why are you asking me? I was always holed up in the dorm gaming with you guys.”
“Oh… right.”
Da Jiang nodded.
As they were talking, Jiang Yun’s voice rang out across the table:
“Director Gu, I wanted to ask—based on the standard timeline, can we finish the project on time?”
“Uh… barely,” Gu Sheng replied.
“But even if we do, it’ll just be a rough framework, no time for polish. I talked to Shen about this yesterday.”
“I originally thought we could motivate everyone to work overtime by offering project bonuses, since the company’s low on cash and can’t pay overtime.”
“But Shen shot that idea down hard—scolded me, said I was encouraging toxic work culture.”
“Looking back, she’s not entirely wrong. For games, the key is to get it launched—refinement can come after.”
But before Gu Sheng could finish—
A chorus of “No!!!” erupted from all sixteen employees!
Then Jiang Yun, the senior-most among them after the “Golden Trio,” shook his head:
“No.”
“What do you mean, no?” Gu Sheng asked, confused.
“Shen’s wrong. And you, Director Gu, shouldn’t give in, either.”
Jiang Yun spoke passionately:
“As one of the ‘surrendered generals,’ I’ve come to deeply understand Golden Wind.”
“All along, Golden Wind has been known for its brilliant ideas, top-quality work, and has earned the love of countless players.”
“And now—PUBG is the biggest project we’ve ever tackled. The most creative. The one with the highest market buzz.”
“We cannot let it launch as a half-baked prototype!”
“That would damage Golden Wind’s image and imply we’re incompetent.”
“Did Shen hire us all to just sit around and do nothing?!”
Gu Sheng was stunned.
What the hell? Did Jiang Yun hit his head or something? Why is he self-PUAing like this?
“So…?” Gu Sheng asked, feeling their mental state was… questionable.
“As the saying goes:
You treat me as a gentleman, I shall repay you in kind!”
Jiang Yun raised his fist dramatically:
“Back in the day, Yu Boya smashed his zither to honor his friend’s understanding.
I may not have Yu Boya’s talent, but I’m lucky to have found someone like Shen who understands me.”
“Golden Wind treats me with sincerity—how could I stand by and do nothing? That would be shameful!”
At that, a loud commotion erupted!
The sixteen employees all stood up, voices filled with passion:
“He’s right!”
“We feel the same!”
“Couldn’t have said it better, Yun!”
Clap!
Jiang Yun cupped his fists.
“For Golden Wind! For PUBG! For Shen’s trust and kindness! For Gu’s brilliant vision!”
“This overtime—”
The whole team roared in unison:
“We’re working it!”
Staring at the fired-up group, Gu Sheng was speechless for a long time.
This was just… beyond words.
He’d thought Shen’s rule banning unauthorized overtime was already crazy.
But he never expected these sixteen newcomers to be such rebellious maniacs, outright defying the rule and volunteering to work for free!
Of course, Gu Sheng was happy to see them willing to work overtime.
PUBG was his next step in pushing second-generation FPS forward, and it had Huayu Entertainment’s backing—he had every reason to want the game in top shape for the players.
“But the problem is…”
Gu Sheng frowned and shrugged:
“Shen already made it clear—no unauthorized overtime. All overtime requests need her approval. Even if you guys are willing, it’s not easy to pull off.”
At this, Jiang Yun’s eyes lit up.
After a moment’s thought, he spoke:
“That’s true, but not entirely unsolvable. It’s just…”
“Just what?” Gu Sheng asked.
“It’s just… Director Gu, you might have to shoulder some risk.”
Jiang Yun paused dramatically:
“For example… getting scolded by Shen.”
Seeing Jiang Yun’s troubled look, Gu Sheng understood. He nodded.
“No worries. Spill it.”
Gu Sheng waved his hand boldly:
“If the sky falls, I’ll hold it up. If Shen wants to scold me, so be it—I’ll take it.”
Whoa—
The whole team let out a collective murmur of admiration:
“Director Gu is badass…!”
Jiang Yun, too, was thoroughly impressed, giving Gu Sheng a big thumbs up.
Lowering his voice, he began outlining the plan.
5:00 PM.
Ring ring ring—!
The little alarm in Shen Miaomiao’s office went off.
Today was the first official day of the project, and also the first day of her no-overtime rule.
Click!
Shutting off the alarm, Shen Miaomiao stretched, yawned, and grabbed her purse.
Just as she stepped out—
“…this part still needs more rendering…”
“No, the grenade hitbox has to be precise, or the margin of error will be huge…”
“I think this dance animation looks super taunting—should we keep it?”
“Hahaha, damn, that’s so cheeky, I love it…”
Huh?!
Shen Miaomiao’s brows knitted together.
What the hell?!
She’d just said no overtime this morning, and here they were, still working 35 seconds past closing time!
Annoyed, she stormed over to the project team’s office.
Bang!
She pushed the door open and saw Jiang Yun perched on a table, reviewing game footage with a colleague.
Lu Bian and Kai were deep in a discussion about system architecture.
Da Jiang and Jiang Shan were smoking and analyzing visual details.
The rest of the team huddled in small groups.
Hearing the door, everyone looked over at Shen Miaomiao.
They froze for a second—then scrambled to stand up:
“Good evening, Shen!”
“Evening, my a**!” Shen frowned, pointing at her watch as a reminder.
But before she could say a word—
Thud thud thud!
Footsteps echoed down the hall, and Gu Sheng walked in, wiping his hands with a tissue:
“Shen.”
He nodded at her, then, like he was in a rush, brushed past her into the project room.
Inside, seeing everyone standing around, he frowned:
“What are you doing, standing there like idiots?”
The team looked at each other, opened their mouths—but no one dared speak.
Smack!
Gu Sheng tossed his tissue into the trash and bellowed:
“Why the h*ll are you all staring at me?! Get to work! Can you finish the project just by standing around?!”
Whoosh—!
With that, the team jumped like startled rabbits and scrambled back to their desks, keyboards clattering.
“Tch… spoiled brats…”
Seeing everyone get back to work, Gu Sheng muttered under his breath, then said sternly:
“Remember, making games isn’t playing games—this job is tough!”
“Shen is being kind to you—that’s because she’s a kind and beautiful person.”
“I’m not so generous.”
“We’ve only got five months.”
“If we can’t finish the game, we’ll all be eating dirt—got it?!”
“Yes, sir!!!”
After his speech, Gu Sheng started heading to his own desk.
To stay close to the project team, he’d given up his office and taken a corner seat in the project room.
But before he could sit down—
A low, menacing voice came from behind:
“Director Gu… a word, please.”
“Huh?”
Gu Sheng turned around, pretending not to notice Shen’s face dark as the bottom of a pot:
“What’s up, Shen? I’ve got a lot of work to—”
“Out. Now.”
Before he could finish, Shen waved him out of the room.
“What the heck…”
Grumbling, Gu Sheng followed her into the hallway.
Bang!
The project room door slammed shut.
And then, a furious roar:
“Gu Sheng, are you out of your mind?! I just told you this morning that overtime requires my approval, and you’re forcing people to work in front of me?!”
“Have you lost it?!”
“…Don’t explain! I know the workload is heavy! But we can’t do overtime!”
“Do you know how tight our budget is? If someone files a complaint about unpaid overtime, we’ll get sued for sure!”
“Unbelievable! Where did you even pick up this bad habit?!”
“…Save it! I’m not listening! Everyone—clock out, now!”
Click!
The door swung open again, and Shen Miaomiao stuck her head in, waving her hand:
“Clock out, clock out! Time’s up! Everyone go home!”
But…
No one moved.
Instead, they all looked past her, gazing at Gu Sheng with fearful eyes.
At that moment, it was as if Gu Sheng was their true boss—the dark overlord of forced overtime.
Without his order, no one dared leave.
“Hey—”
Shen Miaomiao fumed!
She shoved Gu Sheng aside:
“You! Step aside!”
Then pointed at the employees:
“You! Out! I dare any of you to stay!”
At her words—
Whoosh—!
Everyone scrambled to leave.
They shot Shen Miaomiao grateful looks as they bolted, as if desperate to flee the office ASAP.
Even the usually reserved Kai, as he passed her, muttered softly:
“Thank you, Shen…”
Watching her “rescued” employees scurry away, and seeing Gu Sheng’s pitch-black expression…
Shen Miaomiao was practically bursting with glee!
Hahahahahaha, Gu, oh Gu!
This time—I win for sure!