Video Game Tycoon in Tokyo-Chapter 748: Change Starts from This Moment

Beautiful women are always popular.

The release of Bayonetta set a new example for the entire industry.

Developers who had previously been hesitant now saw just how well Bayonetta was doing, and they realized that Gamestar Electronic Entertainment had likely made a fortune—again.

In the past, many studios had been swayed by the loudest voices online, forcing themselves to tone down character designs and make them less attractive. Some games even earned criticism because of that.

But the investors—those who didn't truly understand gaming—didn't get it.

"These are the values you wanted us to represent... so why aren't the games selling?"

Now, they finally understood.

The loudest voices online aren't necessarily actual gamers.

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Real gamers don't think that hard about it. They just want something fun, or something beautiful.

Among gamers, half are there for gameplay, the other half for visuals—and visuals are the easier thing to improve.

Why? Because visuals can be enhanced purely through technology.

So after Bayonetta, one game after another began openly featuring more visually stunning character designs.

"Boss, I've said it before—we need better-looking character designs in our game. That's the only way we'll save this company from going under."

In one game studio, a producer with shares in the company finally stood up in a meeting and openly confronted the CEO.

He'd had enough.

Back when the CEO recruited him and his team, he promised creative freedom, no budget constraints, and full independence in game development.

But reality was different. Budget issues were one thing—every dev team deals with that.

Games, like films, can sometimes thrive even on low budgets, so long as the idea is strong enough.

That's how the indie scene exploded in the first place.

But what he couldn't stand was creative interference—the CEO started dictating what kind of games they could and couldn't make.

First, they were told to develop whatever was trending instead of making the game they actually believed in.

Then came the restriction on character design—they were told to avoid anything "too flashy" or "too beautiful," to avoid criticism from the loudest internet voices.

"Better to quietly make money than draw fire," the CEO said.

But now, after the success of Bayonetta, this lead developer finally had a reason to push back.

"Boss, just look at Bayonetta. Yes, it's fun. But it's not even Gamestar's best game—and still, it's wildly popular. Doesn't that tell you what players want? They don't want ugly, toned-down characters. Games are supposed to be an escape—a beautiful fantasy outside of the real world. Why would we drag all the unpleasant parts of reality into games, too?"

The CEO sat quietly at the table, listening to the lead dev's critique.

Technically, this was a blatant act of defiance—but gaming is still a young, evolving industry. It doesn't follow all the old rules.

Besides, the company really was in crisis. If things didn't change soon, all his investments would go up in smoke.

"So what's your plan? Are you saying that all we need is prettier characters?"

"Not necessarily. But it would be a start. At the very least, we need to stop letting people who aren't even our audience dictate how we make games. Why should we bend to the demands of people who don't even play?"

The CEO finally began to waver.

"Fine. Give it a shot. But... I'm broke. There's not much money left."

The lead dev immediately replied:

"That's okay. As long as I'm here, I'll hold the team together. We'll do our best with what we've got and build something great."

The CEO gave a bitter smile.

"If it were that easy to make a hit game, we wouldn't be in this mess."

"No, boss. The issue is we've been going in the wrong direction. But it's not too late. We still have amazing assets and ideas we haven't used. If we act now, we can make a standard industrial-grade title."

"Industrial-grade?"

"Right. And we'll redesign our characters. No more ugly placeholders. This time, we'll build the game we truly want to make—but I need your approval. If you can't give us that, I might walk out right now."

Faced with that ultimatum, the CEO realized he had no choice.

The future of the company likely rested in this man's hands. All he could do now was support him however possible.

Staring at the company he had built from the ground up, the CEO finally bit the bullet.

"Alright. No more restrictions. Do whatever you want. Just know... I really don't have money to spare."

"Don't misunderstand. We're not doing this to save the company. We're doing this to save the game we've poured our hearts into."

"Then... go do it."

With the CEO's approval, the lead developer finally let out a breath of relief.

Finally—he could make the game he wanted to make. That had always been his dream.

Around the table, everyone else in the meeting barely dared to breathe. Unlike him, none of them could ever stand up to the CEO.

But watching him convince the boss gave them hope.

At least the CEO hadn't gone completely deaf to reason.

The meeting ended, and the lead dev rushed back to the team's office.

His core dev crew was already waiting.

"So? What did the boss say?"

He smiled.

"He's in. No salaries for now, but we've got full creative control again."

"Hooray!" The room erupted in cheers.