Video Game Tycoon in Tokyo-Chapter 722: Didn’t Think That Far

Adding personalized memories into games has long been something of a tradition.

However, in this world, it was something that had rarely—if ever—been done.

The most common practice in the current gaming industry was to include the names of developers or creators as Easter eggs—a subtle way to leave a lasting trace in the game and pay tribute to their contributions.

But inserting the name of an ordinary player—just a fan of games—and building an entire questline around them? That was unheard of.

Yet that's exactly what Gamestar Electronic Entertainment had announced: a new update for the entire Monster Hunter series, introducing a new NPC named Little Anthony.

As soon as this announcement went public, it attracted enormous attention.

Gamers, especially, were the most intrigued. For many, it was the first time they'd seen something like this.

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And overwhelmingly, they welcomed it.

Games needed that human touch—it wasn't just about playing anymore.

Soon after, players began flooding the online forums where so-called "activists" frequently posted their extreme views, bringing this story into the spotlight.

"You people are always yelling about human rights and your personal agendas, but when have you ever actually done something? You just scream on the internet. Now look at this—video games, the thing you constantly attack, are actually making a real difference. Can you say the same?"

"You should take a hard look at what Gamestar Electronic is doing. Instead of obsessing over whether game characters are 'too pretty' or whether hunting monsters is 'problematic,' maybe focus on what games really are about."

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The arguments raged for over a week.

These self-righteous critics were being absolutely overwhelmed—and they didn't even know why at first.

It wasn't until they came across Gamestar Electronic's announcement that they understood what had happened.

Realizing too late, they scrambled to respond.

They accused Gamestar Electronic of nothing more than putting on a show. They claimed that even if such an act seemed kind, it didn't change the fact that the boy was gone. Worse, they said, it could deepen the grief of those left behind—like rubbing salt in an open wound.

They insisted this was just a publicity stunt to gain favor and control the narrative.

But this time, far fewer people were buying it.

In the past, these groups had enjoyed the upper hand simply by being the loudest voices in the room. But now, with something as heartfelt and concrete as this act by Gamestar Electronic, the public opinion clearly shifted.

Actions speak louder than words.

And Gamestar had taken action.

Then came the most unexpected blowback: Old Anthony himself released a video.

Angrily and emotionally, he took the camera and spoke directly to the so-called human rights "warriors."

He condemned them as parasites, people who did nothing but spout empty rhetoric. He revealed that he was once a soldier, someone who had truly fought for his country—unlike these "fighters" who did nothing but fight for attention.

Gamestar Electronic had personally contacted him beforehand, seeking permission before adding his son to the game. And only after receiving his heartfelt approval did they proceed.

Anthony had once hated video games. He used to fight with his son over them, thinking they were a waste of time.

But now, he thought—if only his son had stayed home playing games, maybe the accident wouldn't have happened.

In the end, nothing mattered more than life itself.

He no longer saw games as evil. Quite the opposite—he had become one of their biggest supporters.

And because he was a grieving father, he held the moral high ground. The online critics were immediately drowned out, unsure how to respond.

More and more people joined in the pushback.

Gamers, who often stayed quiet online, gathered en masse for once.

"You're seriously going to attack a grieving father now? Do you even have a conscience?"

Even if, they said, this was a publicity stunt, then we want more stunts like this. If this is 'manipulation,' then manipulate us all you want—because this is real action, not empty noise.

In the end, those critics fell silent—at least temporarily.

In the world of gaming, they chose to withdraw rather than continue stirring outrage. The tide of public opinion had clearly turned against them.

That didn't mean they'd disappear completely. They simply retreated for now, waiting for the storm to pass—planning to stir trouble again once things quieted down.

Meanwhile, they moved on to other industries: literature, film, anime, art, and music. The fight continued—but outside of games.

"President, was this your plan from the beginning?" Matsubashi Minoru asked over the phone. "To use public sentiment like this to drive those people out? I have to admit—it worked brilliantly."

It was rare for Matsubashi to call and not talk business. After a bit of casual conversation, she had brought up the Anthony situation.

From a purely commercial perspective, Gamestar move was incredibly smart.

Not only did it grant moral authority, it earned massive public goodwill.

Even if the games were delayed, the community was entirely understanding—even supportive. In fact, many said they wished more companies would do things like this.

Matsubashi, always calm and rational, admired the decision from a business standpoint. She also saw it as a clever new tactic unique to the gaming industry.

But when she asked if it had all been part of his plan, Takayuki simply replied:

"I just wanted to fulfill a dream for a boy who passed away. That's really all there was to it."