Chapter 34: Burn Yourself for President Chen!

You Were Told to Lose Money By Making Games, and You Actually Did It? 

Chapter 34: Burn Yourself for President Chen!

“President Chen!”

“President Chen!”

After leaving the industrial park, Gong Qi and Ying Gao could no longer hold back. Their voices were almost mournful as they called out to him.

“The cost is way too high!” Gong Qi tried to persuade him.

“Exactly! One thousand yuan per set in production costs alone, and that doesn't even include labor or packaging. How many units would we have to sell just to break even?” Ying Gao quickly added.

“Why do we need to make a profit?” Chen Xu smiled and repeated the same explanation he had used on Xiao Dao and Xiu Fu. “The production cost is high because I never planned to make many of them. We'll release them as a limited edition—a special benefit for our loyal fans.”

However, unlike Xiao Dao and Xiu Fu, Gong Qi and Ying Gao were seasoned veterans of the workplace. They were far more resistant to being talked into things.

“President Chen, we understand your intentions, but this could easily backfire,” Gong Qi said earnestly.

“That's right, President Chen. Even if we're not aiming to make a profit, we can't sell at a loss. Once you factor in labor, packaging, shipping, and taxes, the collector's edition would have to be priced at least 1,500 yuan just to break even. At that price, even if your intentions are good, people will inevitably accuse us of being a greedy company. It could hurt Sekiro's initial sales.”

A chance like this actually exists?

Chen Xu's eyes lit up.

His original goal had simply been to spend more money so that the entire twenty-million-yuan budget wouldn't end up being poured into marketing and promotion.

He had never considered this angle before.

But after hearing Ying Gao's analysis...

It really was possible.

If players saw a game company charging over a thousand yuan for a collector's edition, their first impression would immediately sour.

And if their first impression was bad, would they still rush to buy the game?

Naturally, sales would suffer.

Furthermore, there would still be plenty of expenses afterward: purchasing the collector's edition packaging, paying shipping costs for regions with free delivery, and so on.

All of that cost money.

After accounting for those expenses, there wouldn't be much left for marketing anyway.

In that case, instead of paying streamers or content creators to promote the game, he could simply buy advertising traffic directly.

Compared to influencer marketing, paid traffic was notoriously inefficient.

A few million yuan wouldn't even keep a single platform like the official social media account running for more than a day or two.

But it would still generate some attention—just enough to offset the negative publicity caused by the outrageously expensive collector's edition.

After all, his objective was to lose money during the system's settlement period, not forever.

The game still needed some players to buy it, experience Sekiro's quality, and help it become profitable in the long run.

During the settlement period, the more money he lost, the more money he personally earned.

But once the settlement period ended, the logic would reverse: the more the company earned, the larger the budget he could afford to lose in the next cycle.

Besides, after achieving financial freedom, he could spend his days happily acting as a cultural importer, bringing great works into this world.

Fishing, gaming, singing karaoke whenever he wanted.

Absolutely perfect.

As for the possibility of being branded as a company with ugly business practices because of the collector's edition pricing...

So what?

This was all for farming the system's gold coins.

Nothing shameful about it.

In his previous life, Capcom had been criticized by players for over a decade, yet they still sold fast-travel stones for seventeen yuan each.

Watching Ying Gao and Gong Qi continue trying to convince him, Chen Xu snorted inwardly.

Did they really think he would let them ruin such a flawless plan?

“Don't worry. It won't turn out that way. I believe Sekiro has that kind of quality. In the end, games should be judged by their quality,” Chen Xu said with the full force of his acting skills, flashing a confident smile before walking ahead.

Behind him, Gong Qi and Ying Gao exchanged glances.

Both wore bitter expressions.

“President Chen... sigh~” Gong Qi let out a deep sigh.

“President Chen is someone with very strong convictions. And he's clearly already made up his mind,” Ying Gao said with a wry smile.

“So we're just going to watch this happen?” Gong Qi shook his head.

“Let's focus on doing our jobs well. Since President Chen has already decided, we'll give it our all. Besides, one thing he said is absolutely right—games ultimately have to rely on their quality,” Ying Gao replied.

“You've got a point. It's only the collector's edition pricing, not the base game itself.” Gong Qi's expression became serious as well.

“And honestly... isn't that exactly President Chen's charm?” Ying Gao smiled.

A man overflowing with confidence.

And overflowing with hope.

“Do we have any successful examples?”

“The risk of innovation is too high.”

“How are we supposed to make a profit like this?”

These were the kinds of questions that most people in the game industry—especially game designers—had heard countless times.

But things were different at Morning Star Games.

President Chen would tell them:

“Why can't we be the ones who set the trend?”

“Don't worry about the cost! Pour everything you've got into game development!”

“If we refuse to try something because it's niche or because playing it safe seems easier, then how can there ever be a breakthrough?”

That was President Chen.

That was the spirit of Morning Star Games.

“You going home for the holidays?” Ying Gao asked, raising an eyebrow at Gong Qi.

“Just for New Year's Eve and the first day of the Spring Festival. After that, I'm not taking the rest of my vacation. What about you?”

“Wait for me at the train station when the time comes. Don't underestimate me,” Gong Qi snorted, tilting his head proudly toward the sky.

Since you're an idealist, President Chen...

Then let us burn ourselves for your dream.

Thinking about all the changes Chen Xu had brought since taking over the company, both Gong Qi and Ying Gao silently made up their minds.

Meanwhile, on the eve of the Spring Festival, Chen Xu also began his journey home.

After getting off the high-speed rail, he took a taxi.

When he arrived at his apartment complex, he pulled out his phone and carefully adjusted a few photos he had selected beforehand.

Only after making sure everything looked perfect did he head upstairs and unlock the front door.

“You're back? How's school been? Didn't you usually come home several days earlier? Why are you so late this time?”

Chen Xu's mother, who had been wiping down the coffee table in front of the sofa, stood up when she heard the door. She opened a cabinet and took out a pair of slippers for him.

“Work's been busy,” Chen Xu replied casually as he slipped them on.

“Work? Aren't you only graduating next semester?”

In an instant, both Chen Xu's mother and Chen Xu's father, who had been in the kitchen, gathered around him as if conducting a formal interrogation.

“I study game development, remember? While I was in school, I made a couple of games for practice and sold them for tens of thousands of yuan. Now I've started a small game studio with some classmates, and we're seeing if we can make something of it.”

As he spoke, Chen Xu showed them some photos on his phone.

Of course, they weren't pictures of the company office, they were photos of his rented apartment.

“We rented a place near the university and use it as our studio. Most of the labor comes from me and my roommate anyway, so our main expenses are food, rent, utilities, and things like that. Even if it doesn't work out, it'll still be valuable experience. It'll make finding a job after graduation easier too.”

The explanation had been carefully prepared in advance.

“Well, you're an adult now. Your life is yours to manage,” Chen Xu's father said after secretly listening the entire time. He picked up his teacup and took a sip.

“Your mother and I don't understand anything about game development. Just remember two things: don't do anything illegal, and if you ever run out of money, don't go borrowing from online loan companies. Your family can still come up with some money if you need it.”

Hearing that, Chen Xu felt a wave of warmth in his heart.

“Got it, Dad. As if I'd mess with that stuff. I'm just testing the waters. Who knows? Maybe the game will be a huge hit and make a few million yuan,” Chen Xu joked, laying some groundwork in advance while steering the conversation elsewhere.

“A few million? Stop bragging and come eat,” Chen Xu's father snorted before setting down his teacup and heading back toward the kitchen.

Watching his parents' backs as they walked away, Chen Xu smiled.

This was the warmth of home.

But while feeling sentimental, he glanced around the house and found his determination to squeeze gold coins out of the system growing even stronger.

Once he managed to earn ten or twenty million yuan from the system, the first thing he'd do would be to spend some of it improving his family's living conditions.

Then he'd see whether the remaining money would be enough to support his dream lifestyle—

A carefree life of gaming, fishing, anime-watching, and doing whatever he pleased.

Leaning back on the sofa, Chen Xu stared at the television.

But his thoughts had already drifted far away toward a beautiful future.

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Tn: I updated the story once a day, but if you want to see more chapter of this story ahead of time, please go to my Patreon.

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