Sora didn’t have any particular dreams.
She simply realized that she had a talent for magical engineering, which she learned by chance, and walked the path of a magical engineer at her parents’ urging.
That said, she didn’t dislike magical engineering.
In the Yura Republic, the most recognized profession was that of a magical engineer.
With jealousy from those around her, her parents’ delight, and the promise of ample compensation, Sora, though young, understood the importance of it, and she thought that choosing this path was the right answer.
Then, she encountered “games.”
At first, she thought it was just a waste to put the essence of magic into simple entertainment.
But while playing the games, Sora couldn’t hide her amazement.
She created various magical tools while doing magical engineering.
Convenient magical tools, destructive magical tools, beneficial magical tools, and so on—she tried making many different tools.
But she never imagined a “fun magical tool” existed that could bring joy to people.
Playing a game that endlessly entertained her with simple rules, Sora felt she had her first dream.
It was the dream of wanting to create a game.
And from then on, Sora began to dream.
She dreamt of a world where many people played games they had never seen before.
With inspiration from that dream, she thought she could create a game and that it would lead her to fulfill her dreams if the game succeeded.
If creating a game was her dream, then Sora’s dream was fulfilled.
However, if making a fun game was the dream, then Sora’s dream was shattered.
It rather crumbled.
Average characters, average systems, average graphics—
Following the efficient systems boasted by the Magus Society, the game was created and assembled in chunks like building blocks.
Of course, they cared about fun, since it was a game.
Yeah, just cared.
“Hey, this is kinda similar to Puyo Puyo, pass.”
They did the bare minimum to check for fun, then it all ended.
There were no thoughts or ideas to make it more enjoyable.
Because it was just entertainment, and still, it sold.
Sora could only watch as the game she had created turned into rags.
No matter how central her role in game development, Sora’s position was just a “Scholar.”
Compared to the ranks of professors and deans, she was still a fledgling and, being a scholar with a few projects, she was receiving incredible perks compared to her peers.
But… that didn’t make it okay to see her “child” the game, falling apart.
“Why am I doing this here? Yuren…”
Once upon a time, Sora had dreams.
Creating a game worthy of Yuren’s acknowledgment and someday visiting him to gain his recognition was her goal.
And she wanted to joyfully talk about games and learn a lot.
Surely, he, the creator of such amazing things, would teach her many valuable lessons.
But now, that had turned into an unattainable dream, a mere tale.
Thus, Sora’s heart died alongside the games today.
*
“Now, we will finalize the contract between the Gilbert Consortium and the Yura Magus Society.”
Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap!
As the shadow of a crisis loomed over the gaming industry, a festival was being held above.
This was a contract made before the Magus Society’s games were set to launch every two weeks.
It all began with the issue of profit sharing requested by the Magus Society.
Initially, when selling to the Empire, the Magus Society only received 20% of the profit to prove their capabilities.
But as Speed Rabbit became successful and the Magus Society’s games began dominating the market, the profit margin gradually increased to 30%.
Now, before officially launching the games, the Magus Society demanded 40% profit.
However, accepting this as it was would mean a profit of 0 for the Gilbert Consortium.
Unlike the Irene School, which provided its own crystal ball materials, the Magus Society only supported the games.
Additionally, games sold within the Yura Republic were commissioned by the Magus Society to external production companies.
If they accepted the request for a 40% profit margin, the Gilbert Consortium would be at a disadvantage.
Thus, the Gilbert Consortium demanded exclusive rights for crystal ball production for games within the Yura Republic.
In other words, the Magus Society should order from them to have games’ crystal balls produced and sold in the Yura Republic.
The two groups engaged in a desperate battle of wits to secure advantageous positions, ultimately resolving as follows:
[Yura Magus Society shall receive 40% of the total profit from game sales.]
[For the production of game crystal balls in the Yura Republic, it must be commissioned to the Gilbert Consortium, with the production costs borne by the Yura Magus Society.]
[The above contract applies only to the next six games.]
In the case of the Gilbert Consortium, this contract reduced profits somewhat, but it meant they could establish a production line for game crystal balls in the Yura Republic.
The Magus Society, while gaining more profit, had to commission the crystal ball production to the Gilbert Consortium and share some of the initial production costs, but if the games succeeded, a significant profit would follow.
“Hahaha! We look forward to working with you, Dean Einhardt.”
“We look forward to working with you too, Lord Burnell.”
The two heads signed the contract and took a smiling picture.
But deep down, they were cursing each other out.
Einhardt thought of Burnell as a “greedy glutton” while Burnell saw him as a “mummy trying to take advantage.”
Distrust led them not to share any worries about the already started instability.
Burnell didn’t mention that game sales in the Yura Republic from Jirens had slightly declined, and Einhardt didn’t mention that the rushed development schedule was causing some issues with the games’ operation.
Crisis started brewing right from the breakdown of their relationship.
*
Meanwhile, the time drew near.
“Speed Rabbit 2” was heavily advertised by the Gilbert Consortium as being comparable to Super Thomas 2 even before its release.
Users who were shocked by the leap from Super Thomas 1 to Super Thomas 2 had high expectations and purchased Speed Rabbit 2.
And…
“Huh? What? It’s already over?!”
Speed Rabbit 2 was indeed a new game.
New characters appeared, new gimmicks were added, and stages varied.
But that was all.
There were no innovative system changes or anything that would shock gamers exclusive to Speed Rabbit.
Instead, it cut off playtime exactly as Speed Rabbit 1 had, almost as if it was measured with a ruler.
Gamers were left dumbfounded by the remnants of ‘Speed Rabbit 2′, which felt like a slap in the face.
If they had just not made it at all, they wouldn’t have been as angry.
But the game gave off a worse impression—the feeling that it could’ve been made but was sliced to fit a production theory.
“Did these madmen create this and call it a game?!”
“Seriously, is this even a game?!!!”
Gamers began to fume.
But that wasn’t the end.
Two weeks later, the side-scrolling action game sequel, King of Beasts 2, was released, and Jirens gamers left reviews like these.
[This isn’t King of Beasts. It’s just King of Beasts 1 remade in 3D.]
[Different graphics but the same gameplay, but this isn’t what I wanted.]
[Why did you make this?]
Promoted as a new 3D version of King of Beasts, the game was merely the first title slapped into 3D.
It allowed people to see just how lackluster gameplay could be when translated into 3D.
Before the gamers’ anger could even settle, another two weeks rolled by.
This time, Silver Axe, the sequel to Gold X, was released.
Gold X, the original belt-scrolling action game that even the Irene School couldn’t create, featured macho male characters slashing monsters.
This game was particularly popular among dwarves, only for it to erase playable dwarf characters—a crazy move.
“What?! Are you discriminating against dwarves?!”
Due to the Magus Society’s developer rule of having only cool and pretty characters as protagonists, they performed the ridiculous act of kicking out the most crucial user base.
It was a dumb mistake considering they cared little about gamers who spent any time playing games, but they did it anyway.
And it still wasn’t over.
Unreal Fighter’s extended version, Unreal Fighter Plus, was marketed as a resolution for the 2% shortcomings of Unreal Fighter, but it had bugs that prevented players from progressing in the game.
“What the hell!!! A fighting game that can’t enter the arena makes no sense!!!!”
With a certain probability, when entering the arena, players would get stuck in an endless walking screen dubbed ‘the Infinite Road,’ creating a fatal issue that reset game information.
Progressing through the story and hitting that bug would erase save data if they restarted.
It was a bug that absolutely shouldn’t have existed in a game, and gamers’ last bits of sanity snapped and exploded.
“Refund this entire game!”
“No, I don’t even want the money; just take this trash back, you c*s!”
“Just scrap everything!!!”
Clink! Crash! Clink!
The day after Unreal Fighter Plus was released, gamers flocked to get refunds from the Gilbert Consortium.
Not stopping there, enraged gamers began throwing crystal balls at the Gilbert Consortium’s building,
and the uniquely blue crystal balls made with magical engineering shattered one after another.
This marked the beginning of what would later be recorded as the disaster in the other-world gaming industry—the ‘Blue Shock.’
