Video Game Tycoon in Tokyo-Chapter 742: How Nice It Would Be If I Were Single

In just seven days, the more than two thousand people present felt that what they had gained was more meaningful than years of studying on their own.

It was the first time they truly realized how efficient teamwork could be.

They came to understand that game development could also follow a standardized and systematic process.

Industrialization was just the foundation—the real goal was to discover and nurture more talent. Only when enough people joined the field of game development could more creators emerge. That was exactly what Takayuki hoped to see.

At the same time, Takayuki hoped everyone would not grow complacent after mastering the basics of industrialized development.

The time saved through industrialization should be used to deepen and enrich gameplay and content—not to mass-produce formulaic, cookie-cutter games like products on an assembly line.

Of course, Takayuki knew that even without his guidance, people would eventually figure out how to make formulaic games. His aim in introducing industrialized development now was to guide the trend early on—at the very least, to reduce the number of developers who focus only on producing repetitive, template-based games.

The two thousand attendees had gained so much, and even as the seven-day program came to an end, they were reluctant to part.

...

...

Part of that reluctance came from the course itself—they felt that if it had gone on just a bit longer, they would've grown even more.

But Takayuki had his own responsibilities. He couldn't devote all his time to teaching.

His reason for teaching this week-long course wasn't just to spread the concept of industrialized game development. It was also to gather attention and prepare for the coming wave of competition from other industries.

"Mr. Takayuki, thank you so much for your guidance. I promise I'll go back and work hard on game development—I'll strive to deliver something that makes you proud!"

Before leaving, Meyer enthusiastically shared his big dreams with Takayuki.

For people like him, Takayuki always offered the same encouragement:

"Believe in yourselves. You can do it."

"Mr. Takayuki," Tian Chong came over, asking the question that had been on his mind the whole time. "Um, about that game called Assassin's Creed—what are you planning to do with it?"

Assassin's Creed—just the name alone sounded incredibly cool.

And it wasn't just the name. Even though the game was just a rough prototype developed in seven days, he had already developed a strong interest in its protagonist, Altair.

Simply put, he really wanted to play the game—not just see it as part of a classroom project.

Takayuki looked at him and asked, "You want to play this game?"

Tian Chong nodded vigorously. "Yes, yes!"

Takayuki smiled and said, "Actually, I want to play it too. So rest assured—my development team will be taking over the project, and within a year, we'll finish and release the full version of the game. All you have to do is look forward to it."

"Whoa! You mean the game is actually going to be released?! Then I'm definitely going to buy a copy!"

"Me too! I'll absolutely get one!"

At that moment, they were all thinking the same thing—this was their first time co-developing a game with the God of Games.

Just saying that out loud was a credential in itself. Some game studios would see that experience and be impressed. It would be a huge boost for their future careers.

At the same time, like Tian Chong, they all really wanted to try playing the game they helped create.

It was far more exciting than anything they had worked on in their own companies before.

Takayuki had anticipated this reaction. He said, "Don't worry. Every one of your names will be included in the game's credits. And all of the profits from the first installment will go toward organizing a Game Developer Competition. I hope to discover even more talented creators through it. If you're interested, you're all welcome to participate."

It could be said that in just seven days, these two thousand people had basically built the first generation of Assassin's Creed.

The large-scale map was complete, the worldbuilding and lore were solid, and the main storyline, along with numerous side quests, were already fully drafted.

In terms of content, this Assassin's Creed was already several times more ambitious than the original.

Its visual quality was also far more refined—it had become a template for what an industrialized game could be.

Releasing a game like this would send a clear message to other developers: even if you love games but don't feel innately talented, there is still another path forward.

As for Takayuki himself—well, he had essentially just "freeloaded" seven days of development from a two-thousand-person dev team.

The content they created during that time could easily support two or three full games. For Takayuki, that was an incredible win.

Plus, it also served as a stress test for the latest version of Unreal Engine.

The results were very satisfying. All in all, it was a win for everyone.

As for the profits from the first title, putting them entirely toward a developer competition was something the two thousand attendees could easily accept.

None of them would feel like they had been taken advantage of—in fact, they'd feel proud to be listed as contributors to the game.

Even if Takayuki had chosen to exploit them, they probably wouldn't have minded. Being "used" by the God of Games was a badge of honor in itself.

But Takayuki didn't want to take advantage of anyone.

After all, he saw this as a double victory—a true win-win.

As he watched the participants depart, Takayuki thought to himself:

I win twice.

Then he turned to his assistant.

"Make sure the recordings from this week's course are organized and uploaded online. As for the detailed development process of Assassin's Creed, you can blur or cut that part. Then package up all the data and code—we'll be taking over development from here."

The assistant nodded. "Understood, President."

With that, Takayuki left the lecture hall where he had taught for the past seven days. It was time to return to overseeing the next phase of game development—several of his upcoming titles were close to release, and he couldn't afford any mistakes.

After Takayuki left, his assistant stared after him with sparkling eyes.

She, too, was someone who loved video games. Back when she first became Takayuki's assistant, she felt like the luckiest person in the world.

Now, she had witnessed with her own eyes as Takayuki personally instructed over two thousand people in game development.

This wasn't something an ordinary person could ever hope to achieve. Her admiration for him only deepened.

But... what a shame.

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If only President Takayuki were single.