Cannon Fodder Genius Game Producer - Chapter 1

Chapter 1: The First Day of a Blockbuster

“Pei Shu, if you don’t want to f*cking work here anymore, just say so!”

A furious, roaring shout, accompanied by a stack of paper documents slammed violently onto a desk, crashed into Pei Shu’s ears.

The sound of keyboard typing throughout the entire office suddenly fell silent, followed by a continuous, storm-like barrage of angry yelling.

“Pei Shu, you’ve been with the company for eight years! Not eight days! Open your eyes and look at the case you organized! Even a planner who’s only been here for eight days wouldn’t be as fucking ridiculous as you!”

“I fucking told you to organize the value of the game items for the new version. Look for yourself at what kind of sht you put together! What is the price for a Super Rare tier character skin? 688 game coins?!”

“And a low-priced, long-term sales item planned for the new version is 188 RMB??”

“And this price organization for the gacha fragments and the entire gacha pool…” Project Manager Wang Fei’s expression grew uglier as he spoke.

“Fine, you’re really amazing. With this pricing scheme of yours, if the expansion goes live according to this plan, who’s going to take the blame when the game’s economic balance collapses the next second?”

“Pei Shu, do you know what kind of impact it would have on the project if these data were released?!”

When Pei Shu regained consciousness, he was met with this kind of crazed verbal abuse. Around Pei Shu, no one dared to stop this outburst. After all, based on the absurd mistake of writing a 688 RMB item as 688 game coins, no one dared to stand in the way of a project manager in a violent rage.

“Pei Shu, eight years ago, you were recruited into our studio as the number one candidate in both the written exam and the interview. To be honest, your performance over these eight years has been truly disappointing.”

After the angry project manager finished venting his rage, his final sentence to Pei Shu carried a tone of complete abandonment.

To be honest, this pricing organization plan for the new version’s gacha pool should have been a task with absolutely no technical difficulty. The numerical planners had already finished determining the value for each item and the overall pool. The task Wang Fei gave to Pei Shu was simply to coordinate with the numerical planners to organize the full set of new item values prepared since the new expansion began.

Even a junior planner who just joined wouldn’t mess up this kind of organizational busywork so badly, yet Pei Shu actually submitted a case with such absurd errors for project review.

If anything went wrong, it would be the entire project team’s problem.

As the project manager, Wang Fei was truly and utterly disappointed in Pei Shu. After that round of furious scolding, he turned and walked toward his office, not intending to pay any more attention to anything else.

Only after Wang Fei returned to his office did sparse murmurs of voices rise again around Pei Shu’s workstation. Many people looked at Pei Shu with eyes full of contempt and then turned their heads away, ignoring him.

After all, as Pei Shu was secretly known as the “useless person” in Aurora Studio, any level of ridiculous stupidity he committed was considered understandable.

Many people present could not understand why a useless person like Pei Shu could stay for a full eight years at Aurora, a top-tier game studio under the Universal Group, without being fired.

However, looking at Wang Fei’s violent state just now, there was a high probability that Pei Shu wouldn’t last to his ninth year in the studio.

At his large single workstation, Pei Shu sat in his seat and curiously picked up the pricing organization plan printed on blue-lined paper to read. After reading it all once, Pei Shu sucked in a breath of cold air.

—Incredible, he actually managed to write this kind of document organization work into this state. Impressive!

And what was it that Old Wang said just now?

“If you don’t want to do this anymore, just say so.”

Did that mean that since he wrote this plan, if he didn’t want to work anymore, he could just resign directly instead of being fired by the company?

Pei Shu blinked his peach-blossom eyes and closed the integrated plan in his hand, silently thinking in his heart—Old Wang, what a good man!

But…

Pei Shu smiled. Given his work ability and level, the fact that he could stay in the industry-leading Aurora Studio for eight full years meant that even if Old Wang were a pushover, he couldn’t have made it happen to this extent.

He had already finished flipping through the document in his hand and opened his work computer to review the various brilliant performances he had given over the past eight years.

After a rough review, Pei Shu couldn’t help but marvel at his own past performance.

Looking at the series of work results on his computer, Pei Shu felt that if any game company dared to hire such an employee, that company must be running a charity.

To the side, Zhang Sui, who sat next to Pei Shu, frowned and glanced at him. His expression was one of disdain and contempt, showing he completely didn’t want to be associated with him. Seeing the lack of remorse on Pei Shu’s face, Zhang Sui couldn’t help but mutter: “You actually have the nerve to smile. If I were you, I’d have been too ashamed to stay in the studio long ago!”

Unexpectedly, after his mutter, Pei Shu actually turned his head and looked at him with a beaming smile. For some reason, Pei Shu’s face, which had always looked very ordinary, made Zhang Sui blush at this moment. Soon, he turned his head away, his face turning bright red under Pei Shu’s gaze.

—Oh my, blushing so soon? The colleagues in the studio seem to be good people!

Pei Shu kept thinking this in his heart, his peach-blossom eyes curving slightly with a smile, his lips hooked into a relaxed and unbridled arc.

After forcing back his neighbor Zhang Sui with a smile, no one noticed a trace of coldness flashing through Pei Shu’s eyes. Although he appeared relaxed, his heart was definitely not pleasant.

After all, anyone who had been shrouded in a fog for eight years, acting in a muddled state, and then suddenly woke up after performing a series of actions completely contrary to their own will, wouldn’t be in a very good mood.

Pei Shu stared at the computer in front of him and casually drew a timeline with a pen and paper on the desk: eight years ago, the eight years in between, and now.

About half an hour ago, he woke up from his afternoon nap, and his muddled brain was suddenly stuffed with a bunch of plot details. His originally groggy state was dispelled, and he was suddenly startled to realize that, at some unknown point, he had fallen into the mist of a plot. He had followed the path laid out for him by the plot, ruining his career until it reached this current state.

Eight years ago, Pei Shu was an elite graduate from one of the TOP 2 universities in the country, carrying national scholarships and a series of awards related to the internet and gaming. During university, he had already collaborated with like-minded classmates to develop two plot-oriented puzzle games that were minor hits in the industry and won that year’s “Rookie Award.” This was an exclusive award established annually by the country’s largest gaming platform, WG, for rising star game producers. Almost every winner of the Rookie Award could become a capable leader in the gaming industry.

Back then, relying on his excellent academic background, experience, and status as the lead planner of a Rookie Award-winning project, Pei Shu entered the industry-leading TOP 3 Aurora Studio through the elite recruitment channel, ranking first in the written exam and all three rounds of interviews.

At that time, Pei Shu entered Aurora Studio harboring a love for games and beautiful expectations for the future. And just as Wang Fei said, the head of Aurora Studio and the veterans back then also held very high expectations for Pei Shu. They expected him to grow rapidly under the studio’s cultivation and even expected him to be capable of establishing his own studio, becoming one of the sub-studio owners under the Aurora Studio group.

However, none of their expectations came true.

Pei Shu’s excellence seemed to come to an abrupt halt the moment he entered the studio.

After entering Aurora Studio, Pei Shu suddenly transformed from a high-potential gaming newcomer into a useless person who understood nothing and couldn’t be taught no matter what.

Initially, Old Wang and the other veterans thought Pei Shu was just new and hadn’t adapted to the studio’s pace yet. But gradually, as Pei Shu committed one stupid thing after another, Wang Fei and the others were left with nothing but unspeakable disappointment.

At his workstation, Pei Shu’s expression while looking at the computer screen turned slightly cold. During these eight years, he seemed to have been conscious, yet also not. He was like someone standing at a high, suspended angle, like a marionette, helplessly watching himself do one absurd and ridiculous thing after another.

Until half an hour ago, like a bolt of lightning hitting his mind, he finally woke up in an instant.

And along with that bolt of lightning, a segment of a plot closely related to him was also slammed into his brain. He saw that in the plot, although errors were discovered in this table document he organized, for some reason, these riddled numerical values were ultimately configured into the official game.

On the day of the new expansion’s open beta, the game’s numerical values collapsed. The official team had to perform emergency maintenance, shut down the servers, and roll back the data, issuing a large number of compensation items to the players. However, the players didn’t buy it, leading to the studio’s backbone game suffering the biggest PR crisis since its launch.

This entire crisis started because of him. In the end, a newcomer named Lin Cheng, who had just joined the studio, proposed a plan that successfully resolved the crisis. At the same time, the studio could no longer tolerate him, the black sheep. Using his major professional negligence as a reason, they fired him and blacklisted him within the gaming industry.

Aurora Studio’s eight years of tolerance toward him was for the sake of this probably insignificant firing in the plot.

As for that “Lin Cheng”…

After that, he produced countless classic-level project cases in a short time, advancing triumphantly to become a top-tier game producer, even gaining international fame.

Pei Shu’s cold peach-blossom eyes looked indifferently at the keywords he summarized, reaching an absurd but true conclusion: this was a Power Fantasy world, and the protagonist was that “Lin Cheng.”

As for him, he was just an insignificant stepping stone on Lin Cheng’s path to glory, commonly known as cannon fodder.

Pei Shu didn’t know if his fate as cannon fodder was predetermined. In the dark, he could feel that what forced him to become like this was the existence of a so-called “World Consciousness.”

He wasn’t entirely sure how much influence this World Consciousness had over him, but he could vaguely sense that having broken free from its control, he was no longer at risk of being manipulated.

However, although he could no longer be controlled, Pei Shu was not so naive as to think the threat from the World Consciousness would simply disappear so easily.

Truly… interesting.

Pei Shu looked at the page he had casually scribbled on and drew another heavy circle around the word “Threat.”

What kind of threat would come attacking?

Eight years of a manipulated life had broken Pei Shu’s former plans for himself and caused subtle changes in his personality. However, no matter how much he changed, Pei Shu didn’t think he would be the kind of soft-hearted person who returned good for evil.

Power Fantasy, is it?

He was quite curious to know what the scene would look like if, on the path of the so-called “Protagonist’s” power fantasy life, the former stepping stone no longer existed, and the projects the Protagonist relied on for fame failed one by one…

The hostility suppressed for eight years gave Pei Shu the interest to walk along the edge of danger, but his former rationality appeared in time to suppress the overactive hostility in his mind.

He tossed the pen aside, leaned back against the chair’s backrest, and stretched out a lazy yawn.

Alright, debts should be settled one by one. It’s a pity that because of this shitty plot, he lost eight years of his beautiful life. He didn’t intend to waste the rest of his life entirely on this thing called revenge.

Naturally, he would work happily looking for fun while taking revenge on the side.

Next to Pei Shu, his neighbor Zhang Sui couldn’t help but peek at him again. Ever since Pei Shu was scolded by Wang Fei, his state had been off. First, he smiled at him like a flower, then just now he looked cold as ice while facing the computer, and for a moment his aura was so great it made Zhang Sui’s hands shake. Now, he was suddenly smiling again as if nothing had happened.

Zhang Sui really couldn’t hold back; he kept feeling that something might happen to his neighbor…

Of course, nothing would happen to Pei Shu.

After clearing up the plot in his head, he threw away the pen and, after opening the computer again, quickly organized the unfinished and finished-but-unsubmitted work on his task list.

He checked every item one by one or simply deleted and redid them.

During the eight years he was controlled by the World Consciousness, his diligent performance had already caused the studio to be completely disappointed in him. Nothing important would be handed to him, just like that previous task of organizing the item price table.

For Pei Shu, these tasks that only required care, seriousness, and patience were nothing.

In one afternoon, Pei Shu successfully reorganized the work he had accumulated over the past week and also reorganized that absurdly wrong pricing plan.

Not only that, he also scanned through all the studio’s planning cases within his current permissions that had passed through his node. He roughly reviewed various data and new feature cases related to the new expansion to ensure that, besides his cannon fodder node, there were no other loopholes in the new expansion that might be exploited by the plot to give the protagonist Lin Cheng a cheat.

After doing all this, Pei Shu packaged all the materials, opened the studio’s ERP (Enterprise Resource Planning system), and clicked on the resignation application form.

While filling out the resignation application, Pei Shu took another look at his entry date—April 9, 2013.

Eight years, and nothing to show for it.

Looking at this date, Pei Shu smiled nonchalantly, clicked the mouse, and submitted his resignation application. At the same time, he also submitted the compressed package of materials he had just finished organizing.

The resignation form would be sent up layer by layer through the ERP’s prescribed process; once submitted, he didn’t need to worry about it. As for the compressed package, Pei Shu opened Wang Fei’s window through the company’s internal communication software and submitted it to him.

At Wang Fei’s workstation, he was communicating with various planners in the project about the progress of the new game expansion. As the project manager, he needed to control the project’s progress at all times and identify and solve potential difficulties at each node one by one.

Busywork like what was in Pei Shu’s hands usually didn’t reach his level for processing. This time, it was really because the data Pei Shu submitted was too absurd that he had exploded in rage.

The “beep beep beep” notification sounds from the work software kept ringing. Pei Shu’s resignation application was mixed in with a pile of forms he needed to process and hadn’t been noticed yet.

He did see the file package submitted by Pei Shu. In the chat window, there was also a message from Pei Shu: “This is the compressed package of all currently finished and unfinished documents.” But when Wang Fei thought of Pei Shu’s previous error-ridden table, a surge of anger rose in his heart. He snapped Pei Shu’s chat window shut and temporarily didn’t look at the documents Pei Shu had packaged and sent over.

Pei Shu didn’t care about any of this. At 6:30 PM, quitting time arrived. Pei Shu easily picked up his phone, turned it off, and left.

In a game company, it was rare for anyone to immediately turn off their phone and run off after work. Therefore, this action of Pei Shu’s again attracted the attention of many onlookers. However, he only smiled at the surroundings with his peach-blossom eyes and then left the studio’s office floor.

Behind him, many people in the studio suddenly started chattering in their private group chats.

“Holy shit, this Pei Shu, such guts! After being blasted by Old Wang this afternoon, he’s acting like nothing happened and just leaves the moment it’s time to quit?!”

“Ahhh, I remember this Pei Shu used to be so mediocre. Just now he didn’t look particularly special, but why do I feel like my face is blushing when he smiles!!”

“Wuwu, blushing +1”

“What’s going on? Aren’t you all visual-oriented? I remember Pei Shu’s looks don’t have any special features at all? I still can’t even remember his face…”

“Ah, sister, you don’t understand. I didn’t remember Pei Shu’s face either just now, but that smile with his eyes curving… Help, I feel like I’ve lost my soul!”

“?”

Various private groups in the studio suddenly saw many topics related to Pei Shu, something that had never happened in the past. But some also complained that a smile that made people blush was useless. With that kind of work ability, Pei Shu would definitely not survive this round of year-end studio layoffs and optimization.

Wang Fei, buried in work, didn’t notice Pei Shu’s departure until he started processing various process forms on the ERP. Only then did he suddenly see Pei Shu’s “resignation application form” mixed among them.

Only now did he remember the work integration document he just received from Pei Shu. For a moment, complex emotions—composed of his former high expectations for Pei Shu, his later disappointment, and the increasing anger he felt now—surged into Wang Fei’s mind.

While Wang Fei’s expression shifted as he faced Pei Shu’s resignation application form, Pei Shu had already leisurely strolled back to his home, which was less than one kilometer from the company.

This high-end apartment here was something he bought during university with his various bonuses and game dividends. This was probably his largest asset now.

Taking the elevator leisurely upstairs, after reaching his floor, a tall young man was standing outside his apartment door.

Pei Shu paused, then after a moment of hesitation, he smiled and called out to the young man who turned around upon hearing footsteps: “You’re back? Little Pear?”

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