Video Game Tycoon in Tokyo-Chapter 741: The Soul of the Game

"Faster, faster! I can't wait to see the game footage!"

"Calm down, we just finished loading the game onto the dev machine!"

The seven days of development had flown by, and the basic framework of Assassin's Creed was finally completed thanks to the efforts of more than two thousand people.

Of course, a lot of asset reuse was unavoidable, but that didn't really matter—refinement and polish could always be handled later. And that kind of fine-tuning could easily be made up for with manpower, as long as there was a clear direction. The rest was just execution.

Right now, the only thing everyone wanted was to finally see the result of their seven days of hard work.

At last, the game successfully booted up, and the title screen of their most anticipated creation came to life.

"Look! It's running! It's running!"

The game screen gradually lit up on the big screen, accompanied by a long, immersive musical score.

"Hey, that's the piece I worked on! Takayuki-sensei wrote the melody, and we tweaked it during production—how does it sound?"

"It's great. Your audio mix is spot-on, and Takayuki-sensei's composition is beautiful. I had no idea he was such an accomplished composer."

"Of course! Back in the day, Super Mario, Zelda, Contra, and even Tetris all had background music composed entirely by him. That's what being a top-tier game developer is all about!"

"Alright, alright—let's get into the game already!"

People were getting impatient again.

As the screen transitioned, a medieval fortress appeared, and the camera slowly zoomed in on a hooded figure in white robes.

"Man, I still think it's kinda weird—he's so flashy, why does no one seem to notice him?"

"Oh come on, this is a game. How can you have a cool character design without standing out? Just imagine that to the NPCs, he looks like a regular person—it's only the player who sees him all flashy."

Some people in the crowd even started spontaneously adding headcanon explanations.

Takayuki, listening nearby, had once wanted to poke fun at the same thing himself.

In Assassin's Creed, the first game's outfit was fine, but by the second game, the assassin outfits had become incredibly flamboyant. And yet, somehow, no one in-game ever seemed to care.

But as someone else had just said—if it's cool enough, a little inconsistency doesn't matter.

Players would simply overlook any realism issues in favor of style. And honestly, when Takayuki first played Assassin's Creed, he'd still enjoyed it immensely despite that.

"Turn on Eagle Vision! That's the feature I added! You can find assassination targets that way!"

Someone shouted excitedly from the crowd.

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"Wait, look—there's a river nearby. We should try out the fishing system I proposed!"

That, of course, could only be Meyer talking.

Meyer was both a fishing and horse racing enthusiast, so he'd been the first to suggest adding those elements to the game.

But his idea was immediately met with groans.

"We're here to play as assassins, not become fishermen."

Meyer was crushed...

"It's starting! The game's running!"

Excited shouts rang out as the game officially began. This was the first time such a large-scale collaborative effort had produced something playable.

Most of them came from small studios—maybe 100 people at most. Large-scale development was rare.

But this experience seemed to point them in a new direction.

In the crowd, Tanaka's eyes shone with excitement.

He finally knew what he wanted to do next.

He would focus on using industrialized game development to create standard-setting games.

He wasn't cut out to be a highly creative game designer, but maybe he could be the kind of person who brought together many different ideas into one cohesive, expansive game. Maybe quantity could lead to quality.

Takayuki had said it himself—small studios could never produce a cultural phenomenon, because they involved too few people. Fewer developers meant fewer geniuses, and this industry was like panning for gold.

Tanaka was willing to be the guy who wasn't especially creative himself but who helped cultivate and support those who were.

On screen, the white-robed assassin slipped into a crowd, stealthily moving toward his target revealed by Eagle Vision.

Everyone held their breath, worried he might get spotted.

As the assassin neared his target, the player controlling him started to sweat.

Even though he'd helped develop the game and should've known its mechanics inside and out, he was still nervous.

"He's almost there!"

"Take the shot! Assassinate!"

"Hit the attack button already!"

Under the barrage of shouts, the player finally pressed the button—and a real-time cutscene played.

"Face your judgment."

With that quiet line, a hidden blade plunged into the target's throat.

The nearby enemies immediately shouted and rushed toward the player's direction.

But the assassin melted back into the crowd without a trace.

By the time the guards reached the scene, he was gone—as if he had never been there.

It was a simple gameplay sequence, but the moment the assassination was completed, the entire room fell silent.

They exchanged glances, their eyes lit with excitement.

This was the result of their collective work.

They'd all made many games before—but this kind of clear division of labor, creating a working demo in just a week? That was a first.

So game development could be this efficient?

That was their biggest realization.

"Takayuki-sensei, does this mean we've finished making the game?"

Someone turned to ask him.

"No, not yet," Takayuki said with a shake of his head. "I told you—this is an open-world game. In this world, you can add anything. Never be satisfied with just completing the main content. An open-world game truly gains its soul from all the things beyond the main storyline."