Chapter 109: President Pei… Is a Lonely Man
Chapter 109: President Pei… Is a Lonely Man
Bao Xu had just finished optimizing Ghost General and Ocean Fortress, and was finally free for the time being.
Lu Mingliang wasted no time in handing Game Producer over to Bao Xu for playtesting.
After all, he was the company’s top experience officer—no one understood President Pei’s intentions better than him!
With very little confidence in his heart, Lu Mingliang was hoping to gain some reassurance from this expert.
Bao Xu played through the game seriously.
He didn’t complete all the endings—doing so would’ve taken too much time. He simply followed his instincts and played through two or three different outcomes.
“So, Brother Bao, what do you think? How’s the game? Is there still room for improvement?” Lu Mingliang asked.
Bao Xu didn’t answer immediately.
After a short pause, he asked in return, “What do you guys think?”
By “you guys,” he was naturally referring to Lu Mingliang and all the team members involved in the development of Game Producer.
Lu Mingliang hesitated for a moment, then decided to be honest: “A lot of people think... that the game is a bit dull. Apart from Lin Wan, no one really has much confidence in it.”
“Even though it was personally designed by President Pei, we just feel like… there’s not much motivation to keep playing…”
Lu Mingliang was conflicted.
On one hand, he felt a bit lost and ashamed.
Think about it: in the previous game project, Huang Sibo and Bao Xu had teamed up to create Ocean Fortress, and it became a massive hit!
But now that he had taken over for Huang Sibo, he still needed President Pei to step in personally and make modifications…
It really felt like he had dragged the team down and failed to live up to expectations.
On the other hand, he was genuinely worried.
The gameplay was designed by President Pei, the art was overseen by the legendary Ruan Guangjian—in every way, this game should be a mega-hit.
Yet during the playtest, there was no gut feeling that “this is going to be a hit.” In fact, many members of the design team thought it was kind of boring!
This conflicting sense of unease left Lu Mingliang feeling constantly on edge.
And of course, he couldn’t directly ask President Pei about it, which was why he wanted to hear Bao Xu’s thoughts.
Bao Xu pondered for a moment.
“I think the way you’re all feeling is a case of not seeing the forest for the trees.”
“You’ve all seen the script from the start, and you already know all the choices inside and out. It’s like getting spoiled beforehand—naturally, the experience feels duller.”
“As an outsider, though, I think this game is very interesting. It’s extremely unique.”
Lu Mingliang was stunned. He didn’t expect Bao Xu to give it such high praise.
Very interesting? Extremely unique?
Those might sound like generic words, but the key was who they were coming from!
Who was Bao Xu? A top-tier gamer with total mastery over game design—he’d played more titles than anyone else, and his insight far exceeded that of the average player.
Just like the little girl added to Ocean Fortress.
For many domestic players, it was their first time encountering that type of gameplay mechanic.
But the reason Bao Xu implemented that design was because he’d already seen it used in numerous AAA titles overseas.
That’s the difference in vision.
If someone like Bao Xu, who’d played so many games, was calling Game Producer “extremely unique,” then it really must be something special.
But Bao Xu wasn’t finished yet.
His expression grew serious as he added, “But that doesn’t mean this game will make money.”
“I think this is one of President Pei’s more ‘highbrow’ attempts. It might become legendary, or it might flop miserably. Everything depends on how the market responds.”
“Please, Brother Bao, enlighten me,” Lu Mingliang said humbly.
Bao Xu organized his thoughts.
“I can only speculate about President Pei’s intentions based on my limited experience with games.”
“I think… President Pei has always been a very lonely person.”
Lu Mingliang blinked. “President Pei is a lonely person? What makes you say that? I always thought… he was pretty cheerful and outgoing.”
“Really?” Bao Xu asked in return. “Do you remember what President Pei was like at the last company dinner?”
Lu Mingliang was caught off guard by the question.
He tried to recall carefully.
The last company dinner had been a celebration of Ocean Fortress’s successful development. President Pei had taken everyone out for a buffet that cost over 400 yuan per person.
It had been such an indulgent feast that Lu Mingliang still remembered it vividly.
But what was President Pei like at that time?
Truth be told, he didn’t really recall.
He tried again, forcing the memory back into focus.
“I think… President Pei just sat there quietly the whole time. He didn’t eat much, didn’t chat much either. He seemed preoccupied, like something was weighing on his mind…”
Lu Mingliang looked toward Bao Xu.
Bao Xu nodded. “Exactly. It’s in moments like those that you can glimpse a person’s real state of mind.”
“Usually, when he’s at the company and interacting with us, President Pei comes across as very laid-back and approachable. But that’s because, as a leader, he has to project strength and positivity—to inspire and uplift us.”
“But in a setting like a company dinner, those who carry true loneliness inside will inevitably let some of it slip through.”
“Think about it. At the time, Ocean Fortress had just wrapped up development and was poised for success. Everyone was surrounded by delicious food and great company. There was no reason for anyone to be anxious or distracted.”
“So what could make President Pei seem so low in spirit?”
“The only answer… is that feeling of loneliness in his heart.”
Lu Mingliang blinked. That actually made a surprising amount of sense.
Analyzing it that way, President Pei’s mental state back then really did seem a bit off.
Bao Xu continued, “In fact, while optimizing and adjusting Ghost General and Ocean Fortress recently, I sensed the same kind of emotion. It feels like this emotion was embedded in the soul of the game right from the early stages of design.”
“Take Ghost General, for example. Why price it at 10 yuan, with a lifetime pass at 30? I think it was meant as a ruthless satire of the industry.”
“President Pei genuinely believes that games like that aren’t worth exorbitant prices. A single card getting inflated to hundreds or even thousands of yuan? That’s a scam.”
“The existence of Ghost General is meant to expose that scam—to make players realize how absurd it is to spend hundreds or thousands just to draw a single card.”
“From Lonely Desert Road, to Ghost General and Ocean Fortress, and now to Game Producer—President Pei has been using these unconventional designs to satirize the current game industry, which is impatient, greedy, and shallow.”
“Only… Game Producer is more direct, more cutting, and more profound than the others.”
“It’s also… less appealing.”
Lu Mingliang’s eyes gradually lit up.
So that’s it!
Everything suddenly clicked into place.
But right after, a new question rose in his mind.
“But if this game carries such deep meaning… Brother Bao, why do you think that it might either become legendary or flop completely?”
Bao Xu looked out the window, his gaze distant.
“Isn’t that the fate of all works that are ahead of their time?”
“True artists are often misunderstood by the general public. Failing commercially is only natural.”
“If Game Producer fails, that’s not President Pei’s failure. It just means… today’s players aren’t worthy of a game this good.”
“Maybe one day in the future, they’ll gradually come to understand the meaning behind it.”
“But right now… can a market this impatient truly grasp what this game is trying to say? I really don’t know.”
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