Cannon Fodder Genius Game Producer - Chapter 10

Chapter 10: The 10th Day of a Blockbuster

Jiang Ziye stayed in his dormitory alone, brooding. He wasn’t originally someone who succumbed easily to depression, but the events of the past few months had dragged his emotions into a dim, heavy hell.

Jiang Ziye still remembered that day when his roommate spoke to him in a subtly probing tone: Ziye, do you know about a game called Crazy Graduation Season?

At that time, he had laughed happily and asked, “How did you know I was planning to use that name?”

Perhaps because he had replayed the memory countless times, Jiang Ziye still remembered the expression on his roommate’s face at that moment.

The roommate said, “Ziye, maybe you should consider switching to a different theme?”

Jiang Ziye didn’t understand and continued to laugh heartily. “Aren’t we graduating soon? I wanted to make a game that everyone would like during graduation season, something that could go viral. When we graduate, everyone can share that ‘graduation season’ feeling and look back at university life together.”

The roommate’s face finally couldn’t hold it anymore. He pulled his phone from his pocket, tapped it, and said, “I shared a game with you. See for yourself.”

Then, Jiang Ziye saw a game template that looked as if it had been copied directly from his own mind. It had exactly the art style he wanted, the functions and performance he wanted… even several modules that he himself was still vaguely figuring out had been perfectly presented in this game.

He finally understood the meaning behind the subtle expression his roommate had given him—it was contempt for a plagiarist.

Jiang Ziye didn’t understand why everything had turned out this way. He had no evidence to prove he hadn’t plagiarized the idea, let alone evidence that Lin Cheng’s idea had come from him.

Jiang Ziye remembered how, in a heat of passion, he had run to Lin Cheng’s dormitory building to ask about the source of the idea. Not only did he receive no answer, but he was met with a massive wave of disdain and verbal abuse on both the campus network and his WG platform account.

Someone compared his still-incubating game ideas and some of his work-in-progress conceptual art with Lin Cheng’s Crazy Graduation Season.

The result was beyond doubt: the title of “plagiarist” was pinned firmly to his head. Even the counselor who had always trusted and valued him told him euphemistically that one should be upright and not seek shortcuts.

After that, the matter grew larger and larger for reasons unknown. All sorts of negative comments related to him made it difficult to breathe. Even though he was naturally optimistic, the constant gazes of contempt made him gradually afraid to face his classmates.

Initially, he thought that by putting down his game plans and bravely stepping out, he could gradually emerge from the shadows. However, when he faced his classmates with a smile, the forced, polite smiles on their faces and the way they would turn around and pull out a wet wipe to clean their hands after shaking his—made him shrink back into his shell.

Unbeknownst to him, his three roommates also moved out of the dorm one after another, citing graduation internships or other reasons. One day when he woke up, he realized he was the only one left in the entire dormitory.

It was just a game.

But it seemed to have completely overturned his entire life.

Jiang Ziye couldn’t figure out why. What truly crushed his spirit was a phone call he received one day from his parents. On the phone, his parents’ voices sounded tired, but they still said to him—”Xiaoye, if you aren’t doing well, come home and rest for a while. Just take a break at home.”

Before hanging up, his parents told him, “…We believe you have always been a good child. Mom and Dad will always believe in you.”

It was this phone call that made him weep silently in his empty dormitory.

He knew that the news of what happened at school must have reached his hometown. Someone must have been gossiping to his parents, perhaps even affecting their lives.

But his parents still firmly believed in him…

He cried bitterly that day, but he also made a resolution—even though everything was terrible right now, he would definitely find a way out.

It was just a pity… perhaps he would never be able to realize his dream of making games.

Today, he had originally intended to uninstall the WG app from his phone and say goodbye to his past. But while he was hesitating in a daze, WG popped up a notification: Teacher Bu Shu Returns.

Jiang Ziye never expected that the “Teacher Bu Shu” he had waited eight years for would return at a time like this. With the mindset of watching one last stream, he opened the WG app. He watched as Teacher Bu Shu, still carrying his old passion and using that familiar voice, conducted the GM4 unboxing and review.

Jiang Ziye’s hand gently touched the “Teacher Bu Shu” on the other side of the screen, as if touching his own dream that he hadn’t seen in eight years.

The entire stream was a rollercoaster of highs and lows with a perfect conclusion.

Jiang Ziye felt that using this as a final ceremony to say goodbye to gaming was probably the best ending. He couldn’t help but leave one last private message for Teacher Bu Shu, then sat blankly at his desk, waiting to gather his final bit of courage to uninstall his former passion.

But when he looked at the screen again, he saw that in the chat window where previously only his own messages existed, a message from Teacher Bu Shu had appeared.

What? You’ve given up? Do you intend to just accept your fate like this?

Jiang Ziye suddenly clenched his fists.

How could that be possible?!

But the clenched fists were soon silently released, and a sense of confusion appeared in Jiang Ziye’s eyes: But if I don’t give up… what else can I do?

In the apartment at No. 138 Daonan Road, Pei Shu had been playing Crazy Graduation Season on his phone for a while. He then exited the game window, opened the chat with Jiang Ziye, and typed a sentence.

Teacher Bu Shu: Ziye, do you remember something I once said?

Teacher Bu Shu: The work itself will speak.

After sending those two sentences, Pei Shu looked at the chat box. As expected, the other side fell into silence. But soon, about three minutes later, a reply full of excitement came back.

Midnight 30: I understand! Thank you, Teacher!

Seeing this reply, Pei Shu nodded slightly.

This Jiang Ziye was very smart; he understood the meaning with just one hint.

It seemed Jiang Ziye was not controlled by the Plot Will; his results, which should have belonged to him, had simply been plundered in advance by Lin Cheng.

“Lin Cheng…”

Pei Shu put down his phone and whispered the name, his voice carrying a cold edge. In his beautiful peach-blossom eyes, there was only a chilling, knife-like light.

Pei Shu loathed the Plot Will; he loathed the fate of being a “cannon fodder” that had been inexplicably thrust upon him. What he had originally planned was to gradually break away from his so-called fate and slowly test out exactly what this “plot” was.

But now, he suddenly realized that in this world, besides himself, there were many ordinary people who should have had their own wonderful lives. As long as they were in the “gaming” industry—which the so-called Plot Will had designated as the “Stallion Novel Main Storyline”—it was possible they would inexplicably become stepping stones for the “protagonist.”

And this “protagonist” was merely an incompetent loser who had no respect for the gaming industry and could only practice plagiarism through his foresight and the help of the Plot Will.

Pei Shu’s expression was very cold, and a cold sneer suddenly curled at the corners of his mouth.

The protagonist and the Plot Will, is it?

Then let’s see if Lin Cheng, this “Stallion Novel Protagonist,” can truly stay “cool” until the very end.

First of all…

Pei Shu looked at his conversation with Jiang Ziye on his phone—let’s see if the protagonist can truly remain completely unaffected this time.

In the dormitory at Beijing University of Science and Technology, Jiang Ziye suddenly felt a surge of spirit after receiving Pei Shu’s reply.

Teacher Bu Shu was right!

The work will speak!

Jiang Ziye hadn’t realized this point before. All he had focused on was the fact that Lin Cheng’s Crazy Graduation Season was indeed identical to his own concept, to the point that he couldn’t provide any testimony to refute the claims of “plagiarism” on the internet.

He didn’t know how Lin Cheng had done it, but Jiang Ziye thought that if this Crazy Graduation Season was truly identical to what he had envisioned, then he absolutely wouldn’t be as passive as he was now!

He took a deep breath and once again found the link on his phone—the one he thought he would never have the courage to click again—and then carefully looked at every scene in the frame.

He was carefully searching for every detail in the scenes, specifically the content that game creators love to place in their games: easter eggs.

Just like the ultimate Tracer Studio easter egg that Teacher Bu Shu had uncovered in the afternoon stream, almost every game creator leaves behind content that only they can understand in their games.

This easter egg content might not be as brilliant as Tracer Studio’s, but it could be the name of an NPC, a specific scene or task, or perhaps just some details in a scene that wouldn’t attract anyone’s attention.

Jiang Ziye’s entire game design, including the conceptual design, hadn’t been formally completed, but he had already decided during the production process exactly where he would bury easter eggs that only he or the close friends around him could understand.

It was like a personal signature, an exclusive mark belonging to the creator branded into the game.

When Jiang Ziye clicked on the first scene, he closed his eyes slightly and then opened them—it was the game’s loading page.

The loading page featured a desk. It looked no different from the loft-style desks in every dormitory at Beijing University of Science and Technology, except that the items on the desk seemed to have some personal style, looking like a normal STEM student’s desk—fairly tidy.

On this desk was a silver laptop, a handheld game console also from the Biak Group, and a two-tier wooden shelf commonly seen on university dormitory desks, on which STEM textbooks were faintly visible.

Jiang Ziye looked seriously at these textbooks, and then his pupils shook slightly—surely enough, an extra book was mixed in among them. That book looked very old, and the name on the spine was Game Design and Development: Where the Dream Begins.

Seeing this, Jiang Ziye looked up at the desk in front of him.

The silver laptop, the red-and-blue handheld console, the ordinary two-tier shelf, and that book on the shelf that didn’t belong to STEM subjects—Where the Dream Begins.

Jiang Ziye took a deep breath. He knew that if he took a photo of these now, they couldn’t serve as evidence; others would only think he had rearranged his desk with the intent to forge evidence.

He suddenly felt lucky that since his sophomore year, he had tried doing various game reviews. In his review streams, this desk had always served as the background.

So, he found the somewhat youthful face from his first stream in his sophomore year, the purchase screenshot of Where the Dream Begins from when he bought it in high school, and the social media posts from that time…

Truly, the work will speak.

After finding the purchase link screenshot and social media posts with trembling hands, Jiang Ziye’s eyes turned a bit red again.

It had been months. During these months, he had lived in panic and baseless accusations. He had accepted all the malice that shouldn’t have belonged to him since he was born.

Until this moment, he finally saw the hope of being able to straighten his back once more.

Thankfully, he hadn’t given up…

The scenes from watching Teacher Bu Shu’s stream in the afternoon flashed through Jiang Ziye’s mind—thankfully, after eight years, Teacher Bu Shu had come back… and pointed him in the right direction to save himself.

After the sense of relief passed, Jiang Ziye refocused his gaze on this mini-game on his phone.

One easter egg might be an accident, but two, three, four… or even more?

Jiang Ziye didn’t know how that Lin Cheng had done it, but he now had the possibility of fighting back!

Support