Horror Game Designer

This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation

Everyone who encountered Wan Qiu for their initial meeting invariably made the same mistake: they judged him to be merely a handsome simpleton. Yet, this judgment was far from the truth. Wan Qiu was not just intelligent; he was remarkably more astute than the average person. His intelligence, however, was overshadowed by a past marred by tragedy, which had led him to retreat into a shell, isolating himself from the outside world.

In the virtual world of the game, Wan Qiu’s character arc was a dark and twisted tale. He was adopted by a psychopath, a merciless killer who molded him into a fearsome and distorted creature through a series of brutal and inhumane treatments. Gao Ming, determined to rewrite this harrowing narrative, had resolved to take charge of Wan Qiu’s life story himself.

Gao Ming pondered the situation deeply. “The creators of the shadow world have scripted a bleak fate for Wan Qiu. To change his destiny, I may have to embark on a journey akin to that of Xuan Wen, constantly in conflict with the manipulative forces of the shadow world,” he thought. He observed Wan Qiu, a fragile high school student, gazing vacantly out of the car window. The bright neon lights of the city shone outside, and Wan Qiu seemed lost in them as if he was seeking a glimpse of a home he never had in this alien, bustling metropolis.

Zhu Miao Miao, the one driving, caught sight of this moment in her rearview mirror. With a compassionate heart, she decided to take Wan Qiu back to their office. She had even mentally prepared herself for the possibility that the bureau might not be able to provide shelter for Wan Qiu. In such a case, she was ready to offer him a place at her own home, planning to spend the night in the bureau’s duty room herself.

As the day transitioned into evening, Gao Ming, equipped with the latest information from the bureau, visited several potential hotspots in the city but found no trace of any other criminals. With the responsibility of mentoring a new recruit that afternoon, Gao Ming didn’t spend much time lingering in the city. He returned to the Lishan Investigation Bureau with Zhu Miao Miao as night began to fall.

“I’ve never trained new recruits before, so you’re going to have to lead the way in that,” Gao Ming admitted, shifting the onus onto Zhu Miao Miao.

“But I’m hardly experienced myself!” Zhu Miao Miao, lacking the confidence that comes with being a veteran investigator, suggested they wait for their leader, Bai Xiao, to return.

“That’ll work,” Gao Ming agreed.

However, when they got to their office, they found that their concerns about handling newcomers were unnecessary. Instead of new recruits, they were greeted by the logistical staff of the bureau, who were awkwardly awaiting their return.

“Where are the new recruits?” Gao Ming inquired, helping Wan Qiu to choose a seat before approaching the staff.

“It seems rumors have been circulating that our team has an 80% casualty rate during operations, and a 100% fatality rate for new recruits,” one of the staff members explained sheepishly while handing over some documents.

“That’s absurd,” Gao Ming retorted dismissively, gesturing towards Zhu Miao Miao, “She’s proof that it’s not true. Plus, our other investigators haven’t died; they’ve just gone missing under mysterious circumstances.”

“Currently, we’re facing a bit of a challenge with recruitment,” the staff member explained with a resigned yet somewhat bemused smile, gesturing to the files in front of him. “The two individuals who initially expressed interest in joining our team have opted for the second and third teams instead at the very last moment. Considering the peculiar and often unpredictable nature of our work in investigating anomalous events, our bureau really has no grounds to compel them to reconsider their choices.”

“Just let Bai Xiao know about this situation when he returns,” Gao Ming responded, his tone casual and seemingly unfazed by the news of no new recruits joining their team.

“Could one of you please sign off on these documents?” Gao Ming requested, skillfully steering the conversation away from the topic at hand and taking a seat beside Wan Qiu. Zhu Miao Miao, meanwhile, was engrossed in meticulously polishing a fire axe, her demeanor resembling that of a detached assassin.

With a sigh, the staff member departed to seek advice from Director Chen Yun Tian.

In his brief time spent with Wan Qiu, Gao Ming had already begun to form an understanding of the boy’s psychological state. Wan Qiu had built formidable walls around himself, and unlocking his significant potential and special abilities would necessitate dismantling these mental barriers. Gao Ming knew that unlike the sadistic methods employed by the psychopathic killer in the game, he would have to employ more humane and effective strategies.

“In the end, if all else fails, leading a normal life wouldn’t be so bad for him,” Gao Ming mused, reflecting on Wan Qiu’s unfortunate role as a character designed by him in the game.

As darkness enveloped the city, Gao Ming initiated a video call with Wei Dayou where he learned the Nightlight Studio was a hive of activity, with team members working into the late hours. Gao Ming took a moment to survey the studio through the call, noting how oblivious everyone was to the “Grim Reaper” hidden among them.

This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation

“How are things progressing at the studio?” Gao Ming inquired, his eyes scanning the busy scene on the screen.

“We’re actually doing really well! Mr. Zhao, our investor, even dropped by for an inspection today. People online might call him a fool, but we know firsthand how perceptive he really is,” Wei Dayou replied, his voice tinged with excitement and a renewed zeal for game development.

Gao Ming’s expression subtly changed as he noticed Xuan Wen appearing in the background behind Wei Dayou, unbeknownst to him.

“Good evening, Xuan Wen. How’s everything on your end?” Gao Ming greeted her.

Leaning into the camera’s view, Xuan Wen raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Oh, we’re on a video call, I see.”

“Dayou, could you pass her the phone? I need to ask her a few things,” Gao Ming requested, clearing his throat to emphasize the importance.

“Sure thing,” Wei Dayou agreed, setting down the phone and wandering off to amuse himself with a cat.

“Are you feeling any better these days?” Gao Ming asked Xuan Wen, now holding the phone. Among all the criminals in the game, Xuan Wen’s situation was particularly unique since she too had entered the mysterious tunnel that night.

“Adjusting. The voices in my head are becoming more familiar, and I’m even starting to discern emotions,” Xuan Wen shared, her eyes reflecting a mosaic of fleeting faces. “I have this intuition that once I’ve experienced a hundred thousand different emotions, something significant is going to shift.”

“That time might be closer than you think.”

“A hundred thousand emotions is merely the start. I’m committed to continuing our game, no matter the cost. I want to spread its reach to more and more people,” Xuan Wen spoke with a gentle tone, yet there was an unsettling intensity in her gaze. “Imagine, if the entire city becomes engrossed in our story, won’t we transcend physical mortality and live on eternally in their memories?”

“You’re welcome to try that approach Xuan Wen, but remain cautious of the other players in the game. As the number of anomalies increases, it’s likely that more individuals will come across the obituary photographs. Should they join the game, they’ll become privy to your existence while you remain unaware of theirs, putting you at a potential disadvantage and making you a target,” Gao Ming warned her. Their alliance was important to him, and he was genuinely concerned for Xuan Wen’s safety.

“Don’t be concerned,” Xuan Wen replied with a sly smile, her voice lowering to a more conspiratorial tone. “I’m finding the Nightlight Studio an intriguing place. Should any of those players be bold enough to venture here, they might find themselves unable to leave.”

The Nightlight Studio was a place of deeper mysteries, harboring secrets beyond even Xuan Wen and the ominous “Grim Reaper” among them.

Xuan Wen refrained from divulging more, sensing that such topics were perhaps too heavy for their current office environment.

Wei Dayou then re-entered the room with the cat in his arms. Noticing the video call, Richy the cat immediately began reaching out towards Gao Ming’s image on the screen, meowing as if it had a strong desire to be with him.

“It looks like Richy’s taken a liking to you,” Wei Dayou commented, trying to pull the cat back.

Richy’s persistent cries towards Gao Ming seemed almost pleading, as if the cat was imploring, “Take me with you!”

Gao Ming couldn’t help but wonder if Xuan Wen had uncovered something based on Richy’s odd behavior. He ended the call amid Richy’s persistent meows, his mind racing with thoughts. “Could it be that my previous designs for games at Nightlight Studio are starting to evolve in unexpected ways?”

While he was lost in these thoughts, there was a knock at the office door. Two investigators entered, both wearing distinctive black rings. The man with a face resembling that of a horse, who spoke with an air of impatience, introduced himself. “I’m Ma Lian, head of the second investigation team, and this is my colleague, Chen Bing, from the third team. Given that your team’s core members are away and the new recruits haven’t shown up, we’ll be taking over tonight’s patrol. Your job will be to provide support.”

Zhu Miao Miao was quick to agree to this arrangement, but Gao Ming disagreed, “I need to remain at Minlong Street tonight. There’s an unresolved anomaly there, and it’s crucial that we keep the escalating fear under control.”

Ma Lian, taken aback by Gao Ming’s refusal, frowned and said somewhat authoritatively, “I’m not giving you a choice here.”

Standing his ground, Gao Ming responded assertively, “And am I seeking your permission?”