In 1985, a simulation game was released by a Japanese game company called KA.
Set in the era between the Eastern Han and the Western Jin of China, this game is based on the Chinese novel “Romance of the Three Kingdoms” by Luo Guanzhong, and it has become one of the hallmark IPs of simulation games, continuing the series for over 35 years.
The goal of the game is simple.
The player becomes one of the lords from “Romance of the Three Kingdoms” and aims to unify the entire region of China.
While the aim is straightforward, the journey is far from easy.
As a user who has become a lord, one must first strengthen internal stability and gather military power and talented individuals.
In addition, various elements such as invasions from other lords, rebellions, and natural disasters like floods and droughts relentlessly troubled the players, making many young gamers experience the stress of leadership for the first time as they lost sleep over the game.
I, too, was a gamer who enjoyed this game immensely.
Saving up my scarce money, I purchased the fourth installment and played as every single lord.
As Liu Bei, I gathered the Five Tiger Generals to unify the realm.
As Cao Cao, I made Guan Yu betray Liu Bei and attack him.
Playing as Sun Quan, I beheaded both Guan Yu and Zhang Liao, leaving Liu Bei and Cao Cao with just one castle each, pitting them against one another to watch them fight to the death—it opened my eyes to a new taste in gaming.
This game is none other than KA’s popular IP, with a cumulative total of ten million copies sold, which contributed significantly to the proliferation of PCs in Korea by being illegally copied when one bought a PC from computer stores, and influenced countless strategy simulation games.
That game is “Three Kingdoms.”
The significance of “Three Kingdoms” lies in the fact that it was the first strategy simulation game many gamers encountered.
It taught players the concept of “strategies,” which involves creating a long-term big picture rather than short-term tactics for direct combat and fights.
Of course, as grand as this sounds, “Three Kingdoms” had many issues.
Some nations were unavoidably too strong in the scenario, and once a player’s power exceeded a certain point, the game’s difficulty would drastically decrease, making it less enjoyable.
I understood.
If things like [Population Management, Food, Logistics, Internal Power Struggles], and so forth were implemented too realistically, it would turn into an internal affairs simulator rather than a game and would have been deleted by users due to its difficulty.
However, the time has come when such a game was needed.
This young emperor, who views continental unification too easily, requires precisely that game.
“Is it true? Can you really create that?”
The emperor likely conducted many tests with “Galaxy Craft – Real Mode,” just as I did.
However, “Galaxy Craft – Real Mode” was suitable for single battles but not for testing massive wars.
The emperor surely felt it too.
“I wish there was a game to simulate grand strategies.”
To such an emperor, I threw a bait.
I promised to create a game that could simulate not just battles, but wars.
“Of course, Your Majesty, I swear on my life.”
“How long will it take?”
“I’ll make sure it’s done before your coming-of-age ceremony, no matter how late!”
For an emperor aiming for continental unification, it was highly likely he would stir something substantial during his coming-of-age ceremony to assert his power.
If he made a move there to justify war, no matter how much I or the Minister’s Office protested, it would be difficult to prevent it.
I needed to finish this before then.
“Can you really complete it that quickly?”
“This is for your great cause, Your Majesty. I’ll ensure it gets done by any means necessary.”
To protect my happy isekai game development life, I had to complete it no matter what.
Feeling that the lives of all isekai gamers rested on my shoulders, I sensed an unprecedented surge of night-owl energy rising within me.
Seeing my blazing gaze, the emperor’s expression suddenly turned grave.
What was this? Did I say something wrong?
“Indeed…you are a dangerous loyalist.”
“Huh?”
What on earth was he trying to say now?
Looking at me, the emperor seemed to notice something.
“You prepared for that because you knew I would need such things… so everything makes sense now.”
What kind of madness was this?
The emperor seemed to think that I had planned everything, even setting the stage for this moment and prepared this strategy simulator in advance.
I was wronged.
The more I thought about it, the more unjust I felt.
I understood why he’d want game development, but why was he making me challenge the princes of foreign lands and now govern the war crisis?
I was really on the verge of a revolution.
“However, I shall forgive you. I am not so small-minded as to reject my servant’s overwhelming loyalty.”
“Th-thank you, Your Majesty.”
I answered as the emperor pondered alone and forgave me.
Our middle school syndrome emperor really needed some harsh failure experience.
“Then, I’ll take my leave now. I look forward to our next meeting, Yuren.”
“Yes, I’ll bring satisfactory results.”
With those words, I was able to leave the palace and sprint back home.
Time was of the essence.
*
Back at Zephia’s house, I contacted those responsible for this matter.
Officials from the Minister’s Office, Commander’s Department, Edward Consortium, and our School were all summoned to the Crystal Ball and appeared in the mansion’s meeting room, looking like ghosts.
Though this could be deemed a level one secret, I shared everything with them, and as expected, the expressions of Minister Herness and Commander seemed to suggest they already knew about it.
I told everyone that I needed to create a game—or rather, software—to prevent the current situation, and upon hearing that, Minister Herness said.
“Are you asking me to believe that right now?”
Minister Herness, whom I hadn’t seen in a long time, looked very thin and had grown many white hairs.
It was clear he had endured tremendous stress, likely due to the emperor’s preparations for continental unification.
“Honestly, Yuren, I cannot trust you.”
Minister Herness’s eyes were filled with distrust.
He seemed to think I had concocted the current situation by manipulating the emperor.
It was beyond unjust, but there was little else I could say.
“Minister Herness, do I look like someone who would plot a conspiracy?”
I spoke boldly, knowing I had not committed any crime.
In the empire, I was more normal than anyone else.
…Let’s amend that: even if I’m a slight gaming addict, I’m not crazy enough to plot something like war behind the scenes.
“Am I wrong?”
But still, the look in Minister Herness’s eyes was filled with suspicion.
How was I to convince him?
I decided to speak honestly about my true feelings.
“I’m just a regular citizen of the empire whose dream is to die while making games with my family.”
“…Is that all?”
His gauge of suspicion was still high.
Ugh… did I have to say this too?
“And… I want to have about ten kids after marrying all my fiancées.”
My bombshell statement caused a commotion among those gathered around the Master.
“Y-you want a large family?”
“Y-you want ten kids!?”
“Calm down, Sylvia; Yuren is talking about a total, not just one.”
“Let me see, um, Sylvia, Julia, Irene, Riana—all can handle two each, right?♡”
My long-held wish,
I never dreamed I’d share it in a place like this.
However, thanks to this wish, it seemed Minister Herness’s suspicion gauge dropped by about 20%, and I continued.
“I want to create this not to support war but to prevent it. And for that, I will need everyone’s help here.”
To create what I envisioned, all the vital internal information and the military intelligence of our empire as well as of other nations must be perfectly prepared.
Requesting such crucial classified information felt like madness even to me.
But I had to do this mad thing right now.
For everyone,
For the future children of Karen and Jiren,
And for the someday child of mine.
“Please trust me and help me. I want to prevent this nation from falling into hell.”
If words failed, I’d have to contact the Platinum Stag to forcibly obtain data.
Surely my relationship with the minister and the commander would turn to ash, but it was better than a war.
As I hoped against the worst-case scenario, the minister sighed and said.
“Hah… I see, you are that kind of man. Very well, I will trust you once more.”
“Our Commander’s Department will also lend assistance to the extent we can.”
Relieved that I didn’t have to resort to the worst-case scenario, I felt a weight lifted when Jiren shouted from the Crystal Ball.
“Lord! We’ll go all out to help!!”
Seeing Jiren, who always believed in me and followed me with all his might, I smiled.
“Alright, let’s begin preparing for some late-night work.”
Sorry, Jiren.
I guess I won’t be able to see Karen—no, my wife—for a month.
