Game Development: Starting with Recreating the Anime Game Style

Chapter 368 Being scolded is a good thing

"You all understand the phrase 'paying for love.' But where does love come from? It doesn't come from the concept art or how beautiful the artwork is; it comes from interaction, from empathy, and from each and every vivid detail."

"Let me give you a very simple example. After a battle, Snowy Owl's mech is damaged, and she's sitting alone in the ruins. At that moment, the protagonist hands her a can of ice-cold cola. What would she do?"

Zhang Xiashan was stunned, and answered subconsciously.

"She...she will say thank you?"

Chu Chen shook his head. "A real girl with no money, no connections, and no job might just silently accept it, but she would subconsciously touch the water droplets condensed on the cold jar with her fingers."

"She would be curious, hesitant, and unsure how to open the pull tab, so she would look up at the main character."

"At this point, the protagonist will realize, 'Ah, she has never drunk this before,' and casually open the cola and hand it over. Then the snow owl takes it, takes a sip, and her face shows bitterness, and she can even cough lightly a couple of times."

"Seeing that the snowy owl couldn't stand the cola, the protagonist laughed heartily. The snowy owl looked at the protagonist with a puzzled expression. At this moment, the protagonist could say a few pretentious things, such as that trying a flavor is more valuable than the taste itself, and that failure is also a kind of attempt. Then, he could add, 'Are you feeling better now?'"

The camera then pans back to the snowy owl. After a moment's thought, the girl smiles along with the protagonist and offers a brief thank you.

"This is a standard freeze-frame."

Chu Chen's voice echoed in the studio, not loud, but clearly penetrating everyone's ears.

I've actually mentioned this before.

The upper limit of game development is creativity, but creativity is a difficult thing to describe. Many people think they are creative, but in the end, what they make is just a pile of crap.

Therefore, Chu Chen rarely talks about limits.

Everyone has moments of brilliance, but he was actually talking more about things with a low bar.

And it's often repeated over and over again.

Even so, many people are still surprised when they hear this content, just like many people watch master film directors explain the breakdown of storyboards or watch art masters talk about their drawing ideas.

A simple interaction, a can of Coke.

After Chu Chen's analysis, a relatively clear picture emerged before everyone's eyes.

Bai Ruilin sat in the audience, wondering if he himself were sitting on the stage today and faced with this question, could he come up with the answer "cola"?

May be.

Maybe not.

It's obvious that Chu Chen was able to say that so casually because he was so familiar with the framework of the script; the female lead's actions just now wouldn't affect the main plot at all.

Yet it can touch people's hearts.

Making these details look natural and effortless is not easy.

On stage, Zhang Xiashan was the same. He had considered enriching the character, but his thinking had always been limited to "adding backstory." He added a tragic past, a hidden identity, and a complex mission to the Snow Owl. Only now did he realize his true potential.

After speaking, Chu Chen gave a summary.

"Players don't feel the setting; they can only feel the details."

"A still frame is an anchor point."

"Only when countless such anchor points are connected can a character truly come to life, and only then will players fall in love with her and pay for her."

The last sentence drew another soft chuckle from the audience.
This episode of the torture program was recorded as a two-episode production.

But it ended earlier than expected.

After Zhang Xiashan, Chu Chen named several other projects. Although the problems he pointed out were not as serious as those in "Code: Starfall", they were equally incisive.

When the studio lights came back on, the tense atmosphere instantly relaxed.

The staff began busily packing up the equipment, while the producers below the stage gathered in twos and threes, whispering to each other as if they had survived a disaster.

"Phew... It's over. I thought I was next. My palms were sweaty just now."

"How does CEO Chu's brain work? I feel like if he dismantles my game like this, I'll probably delete the database and run away on the spot."

"But you know what, after hearing other people's questions, a lot of new ideas popped into my head, and I feel like there are even more things that need to be changed!"

"Haha, have you forgotten what CEO Chen shared on the internal forum about the biggest taboo for game producers? The answer is right there: don't be too ambitious. Create a framework first, then think about the details. With the progress of your game, I suggest you don't make any random changes, lest CEO Chen uses you as an example next time."

"I actually think it's a good thing to get scolded."

Another producer remarked.

"My thinking is much clearer now. I used to always think about how to make the world view grand and the settings complicated, but now I realize that players don't buy into that at all."

Bai Ruilin did not participate in the discussion; he simply watched Chu Chen's back in the distance.

Chu Chen was giving Hai Mao and Yu Wan some simple instructions, his expression focused. Unlike his sharp demeanor on the show, he seemed more like a pure product manager at this moment, reviewing a project that had just ended.

Zhang Xiashan, who had been "tortured" the most by Chu Chen, was now standing next to Chu Chen, seemingly saying something, before bowing very solemnly.

Bai Ruilin watched this scene and was suddenly overwhelmed with an indescribable shock.

He suddenly realized that the most valuable asset of the Starry Sky Game Alliance might not be its game platform, the Starry Sky Project, or even the scale of its funds.

It's not about Chu Chen himself.

~~~
A few days later, on a weekend in late September.

Sunlight streamed through the gaps in the blinds, casting dappled shadows on the office floor.

Chu Chen, holding a freshly brewed cup of coffee, sat in front of his computer and skillfully opened the Star Tap platform's community and Bilibili.

For him, this has become a way of life.

Chu Chen's current lifestyle can be described as "somewhat busy, but not that busy."

The company's overall framework has been established, and all projects are running smoothly and efficiently. He no longer needs to micromanage everything and be overwhelmed by every detail, as he did in the early days of the business.

His "busyness" is mostly due to the large number of game studios he has to "manage," with each studio taking up even just one or two hours a month.

A third of the month is gone.

Fortunately, Chu Chen was skilled at recruiting talent; most of the producers had proven themselves in their previous lives, so he wasn't always that tired.

For example, he can still rest on weekends.

(End of this chapter)