Making Game: CH 138 – Bookworm Champion? (Patreon)

Do Vane was definitely not the only person in the galaxy to realize that their Pokégg were secretly Pokémon dress-up machines.

The Avalon forums were absolutely buzzing with confused, hyperactive excitement. Inside the dedicated Pokégg sub-forum, one specific post had naturally ignited the wildfire.

[Avalon Forums - Pokégg Discussion] [Thread: YOOOO CHECK YOUR EGGIES! WE CAN GET ACCESSORIES?!]

IceBreaker_99: Guys! I literally just synced my Pokégg to my account after a long hike on Glacia Prime, and a tiny shirt icon popped up! I clicked it, and it gave me a knitted red scarf! I CAN PUT IT ON MY SNORLAX! LOOK AT HIM! MY BABY IS SO COZY! (Attached Image: A 3D hologram of a Snorlax peacefully sleeping while wearing a comically small, bright red knitted scarf).

CodeMiner77: What in the mod is this? Did you hack the firmware already? The device has only been out for three weeks!

IceBreaker_99: IT'S NOT A MOD! I swear on Arthur's name, it is an official feature! Here is my Blastoise wearing a pair of sunglasses I just unlocked! (Attached Image: A holographic Blastoise crossing its arms, wearing slick, angular shades).

Cynic_Gamer: Wait... I live in Sela. Let me check my Eggies right now. 

Cynic_Gamer: HOLY STARS IT TRUE. I just got a tiny sunhat for my Pikachu! 

The floodgates violently opened. Within the hour, the entire sub-forum was drowning in thousands of screenshots as players desperately synced their devices to show off their unique, procedurally generated cosmetics.

A massive storm of jealousy and hype began to spin across the network.

LoreNerd99: Hold up. I just realized something. If the accessories are based on planetary data... how the hell am I supposed to get the puffer jacket?! Do I literally have to buy a warp-ticket and fly to an ice planet just to walk 100k steps with my Mudkip?!

SpeedDemon: ARTHUR PENDRAGON YOU ABSOLUTE MADMAN. DO YOU WANT US TO TRAVEL THE WHOLE ACCORD!!

Bat_Master: Oh thank the stars. Finally, after all this walking, I can dress up my wife, Gardevoir, in some beautiful new clothes. 

CasualDan: Bro… you mean your Pokémon… right? 

Bat_Master: Did I stutter, Dan? 

Void_Watcher: This thread is cursed. I blame Arthur for all of this.

…

All things considered, the quiet, unannounced release of the Pokégg was an absolute, resounding success by galactic standards.

It was a brilliantly executed piece of hardware that deeply solidified Round Table Studio's grip on the cultural zeitgeist while simultaneously bringing yet another massive flood of revenue directly to Arthur's bottom line.

In turn, Dorian immediately put that physical wealth to good use. He funneled a massive portion of the Pokégg profits straight into the local Friton economy, officially breaking ground on their very first, fully autonomous physical assembly factory several miles away from the H.Q estate.

And surprisingly, he didn't even have to hire an external contractor to design it.

A few nights ago, Dorian had simply mentioned the factory plans in passing at the dinner table. To his absolute astonishment, Marcus had quietly walked out of the room, returning several days later with a highly detailed, incredibly efficient architectural blueprint for a state-of-the-art manufacturing plant.

It seemed his fifteen-year-old brother was still sticking to his passion for architecture.

Dorian knew that Marcus was a genuinely brilliant boy. He possessed a hyper-focused mind that could conquer absolutely anything if he genuinely set his sights on it. Regrettably, however, Marcus had a long, established history of flipping his hobbies just as often as their father flipped breakfast pancakes. One week he wanted to be an astro-botanist, the next he was obsessed with Plasm-engine mechanics.

Well, at least he was currently still sticking with the architectural venture.

Dorian wasn't going to actively push him to go to a prestigious Core World college to pursue it, though. He knew his younger brother far too well. The absolute second Marcus felt like he was being forced or pressured into doing something professionally, he would instantly lose all interest in it and rebel. Dorian just had to quietly support him from the sidelines.

And so, the primary structural designs for the RTS assembly factory were surprisingly acquired in-house.

Of course, Dorian wasn't completely reckless. He immediately forwarded Marcus's blueprints to Raja and Kasavin, having them quietly run the designs past high-level industrial experts to verify their structural integrity before pouring millions of credits into the foundation.

Slowly but surely, behind the blinding spotlight of the Pokémon craze, Round Table Studio was taking quiet, monumental steps toward physical, real-world autonomy.

…

Several weeks quietly bled into months. By all accounts, a full two months had passed, and the Kepler estate had transformed into a literal, living paradise.

The ecosystem surrounding the sprawling Friton pasture could only be described as undeniably magical. Thanks to the towering, heavily bearing Stardew Valley crop lines and the unspoken, invisible blessing of Demeter herself, the soil was impossibly fertile. And roaming freely through this agricultural utopia were the newest additions to the Kepler family.

Following the latest system update, Dorian had managed to pull a few highly coveted Generation 2 and 3 Pokémon for his siblings.

Out in the grazing fields, Marcus was currently doing his daily chores, herding the massive, fluffy Muurbeasts back to the stables. Running eagerly beside the teenager were two distinct canine companions: Ted, the majestic, towering Arcanine, and a brand-new, fiercely loyal dark-furred Houndour that barked happily at the stray livestock.

Not too far away, Lyra was fast asleep under the shade of a massive, blooming peach tree. Curled up comfortably in her lap was Umbra, her beloved Eevee, who had finally evolved into a sleek, glowing-ringed Umbreon. Resting peacefully right on top of Lyra's head like a fluffy cotton hat was a small, blue-winged Swablu.

And right in the middle of it all, John Kepler was happily wiping sweat from his brow, smiling from ear to ear as he worked alongside a Machamp to repair a broken irrigation pipe. It was a life of absolute, unbothered peace.

Well... everywhere except in Dorian's immediate vicinity.

"Again!" a deep, booming voice roared. "Do not anticipate the physical strike! Anticipate the intention! Move!"

Dorian violently ducked to the side, narrowly avoiding a massive, telekinetically hurled boulder that shattered against the invisible barrier behind him.

Standing a few feet away, humming with an intense, anti-gravity hum, was Dorian's newest personal companion: a pristine, metallic-silver and gold Shiny Beldum.

Dorian was currently using the little psychic-steel Pokémon to train his reflexes against invisible, non-kinetic attacks. And strictly overseeing this brutal, exhausting training regime was Ares, the God of War, who stood with his arms crossed, aggressively critiquing Dorian's footwork.

A few yards away, entirely unbothered by the flying rocks and shouting, Dorian's Charizard and Articuno were lazily sunbathing in the tall grass.

Dorian gasped for air, his muscles burning as he locked his mismatched eyes onto the floating Beldum, waiting for the next psychic telegraph–

Fwip!

A brilliant blur of yellow and orange light violently blitzed into existence right between them.

"Let's all cheer for the great showman, Prince Dorian!" Hermes shouted cheerfully, hovering in mid-air with a massive, exuberant grin on his face.

Dorian stumbled, dropping his combat stance and panting heavily. Recognizing the sudden lack of hostility, the shiny Beldum immediately dropped its psychic hold on a nearby rock, letting it fall harmlessly to the grass with a heavy thud.

Ares scowled, his fiery eyes locking onto the Messenger God. "There had better be some incredibly important news from the heavens to justify interrupting my training session like this, Hermes."

Hermes just laughed, spinning effortlessly in the air to face his gruff sibling. "Hoho! Smile a little for the universe, brother! There is no need for swords today. Our great playmaker just claimed his very first victims."

Dorian blinked, wiping the sweat from his forehead. "Victims? What are you talking about?"

Instead of answering, Hermes simply pointed a finger at Dorian's chest.

Dorian frowned. He mentally opened his System interface. The moment the translucent blue screen materialized in his vision, his heart nearly stopped.

The Resonance point counter in the top right corner was screaming. The numbers were blurring together, jumping in massive, continuous spikes.

Dorian's jaw dropped. It hit him instantly. Spirited Away.

Elah Tan and NovaFrame Pictures had finally finished their galaxy-wide logistical rollout. Today was the official premiere day. The movie had just been simultaneously released in a massive tidal wave across thousands of theaters from the elite Core Worlds all the way to the working-class Mid Rim.

Dorian stood up straight, his exhaustion entirely forgotten. "What's the reaction?"

Hermes smiled, his winged boots fluttering excitedly. "Hoo boy. Prince D, you control their mortal emotions like a master bard playing a lyre!"

The Messenger God zipped around Dorian, talking a mile a minute. "I just snuck into one of the grand premiere theaters on Sela! I sat right in the back row, stole some overpriced popcorn from a wealthy aristocrat, and watched the whole thing. It was absolute madness, boss! You have a hardened, cynical looking man openly weeping into his tailored suits! When the train scene happened? The entire theater was dead silent. I could literally hear their souls trembling!"

Dorian couldn't help but smile, a profound sense of warmth and accomplishment settling into his chest.

He looked back at his violently spinning Resonance counter. If the Core and Mid Rim were already reacting this strongly to the raw emotional weight of the film and Percival's score, he could only imagine what would happen when NovaFrame physically delivered the film to the Outer Rim.

'Keep climbing,' Dorian thought to himself, his eyes gleaming with anticipation as he stared at the System.

With this massive wave of Resonance flooding him, he deeply hoped it would finally be enough to trigger the next great threshold. He needed to level up his enigmatic 'Cosmic Level'.

Whatever secrets the universe was hiding, and whatever the truth of his existence was… he is going to pry it open.

…

Hermes's animated storytelling was vivid, but even a God of speed couldn't fully paint the sheer, unprecedented cultural phenomenon currently happening on the ground.

Down in the physical cities across the Core and Mid Rim, the theaters were in an absolute buzz. From a purely corporate standpoint, the scene was enough to completely boggle the minds of any marketing agencies. Spirited Away was a brand-new, 2D-animated IP. It wasn't a sequel, it wasn't a laser-blaster sci-fi epic, and it wasn't backed by a mega-studio. NovaFrame Pictures simply didn't have the budget to plaster the film across every holographic billboard in the galaxy.

Furthermore, the everyday "normies" of the working class weren't usually swayed by pretentious art-house trophies. The Étoile d'Or helped secure the theaters, but it didn't guarantee an audience.

So why were the theaters completely packed shoulder-to-shoulder?

It was the gamers.

The loyal, fiercely protective following of Round Table Studio had mobilized. They wanted Arthur Pendragon's very first film to leave a crater-sized impact on the arrogant film industry. Besides, they already knew exactly how Arthur wove his narratives in games like Hades and Assassin's Creed. If his code could make them cry, his movie was guaranteed to be a masterpiece.

And so, the dark theaters were filled with people carrying glowing Pokéggs clipped to their belts and pockets. They were the same people who were planning to buy a few packs of TCG cards right after the credits rolled, and the very same people who instantly rushed to the Avalon forums and social media timelines to broadcast their experiences to the universe.

And what an experience it was. Within hours, the galactic net was completely overwhelmed.

[Avalon Forums - General Entertainment] [Thread: Spirited Away Megathread (SPOILERS ALLOWED)]

Cosplay_Queen: I am not waiting for official merch. I already bought five yards of black fabric and am currently 3d printing the mask. I am building a No-Face cosplay, and I am wearing it to the park tomorrow to offer people fake gold tokens.

Maker_Maniac: Just finished configuring my 3D printer! Look at these little guys! [Attached Image: A dozen perfectly printed, tiny black Soot Sprites sitting on a desk]. I put a piece of coal next to my keyboard. If I pretend to struggle with my data-entry job, do you think they will feel bad and do it for me?

CineSnob_88: Just reposting a quote from the Neo-Sela Times review here. "Arthur Pendragon operates strictly on dream-logic rather than traditional Accord three-act structures. This makes the film deeply emotionally resonant, but strictly from a pacing standpoint, it leaves the climax feeling somewhat abrupt and unresolved." Thoughts? 

FilmBro22: I actually agree with this one. The pacing in the third act felt like it just floated away. It didn't have a traditional boss fight or a massive confrontation with Yubaba. 

Void_Watcher: Bro, blindly applying the 'Accord three-act structure' to a masterpiece like this is why modern movies suck. Not everything needs a laser-blaster final battle to be complete. The pacing was flawless.

LoreNerd99: Did anyone else catch the actual underlying message of the film? It is a masterpiece because it speaks two different languages at the exact same time. For the children in the audience, they are just watching a wondrous, magical world filled with dragons and spirits. But for the adults? If you look right behind the thin veil of the magic, the bathhouse is a terrifying, dead-on metaphor for entering the Accord workforce. Chihiro literally has to surrender her individuality, her actual NAME, to Yubaba just to get a paycheck and survive. The movie's entire core theme is a warning to the working class: If you forget who you were before you clocked in, you can never leave the machine.

Corporate_Drone_88: ...I was just scrolling through memes, and now I am having a full-blown existential crisis. Yubaba is literally just my shift manager. 

Doinit_Without_Pause: Arthur did it again. He made a colorful, beautiful piece of art that subtly tells the working class exactly how heavily they are being exploited by the Accord's corporate systems. The man doesn't miss.

…

And so, the galaxy kept moving.

Arthur's bold step into the cinematic scene actually had a profound, cascading impact on the gaming industry. Seeing the sheer, unprecedented cultural and financial dominance of Round Table Studio, incredibly wealthy corporate investors across the Core Worlds began frantically searching for the "next Arthur Pendragon."

For all intents and purposes, Arthur had completely changed the galactic gaming scene for the better. The Avalon Forums, which had initially started as a simple discussion board for Stardew Valley, had organically evolved into the undisputed heart of all things gaming.

It had expanded far beyond just RTS titles. The forum now boasted massive, dedicated subsections for everything from hardware modification to a highly active 'Indie Developer' board, where aspiring creators could talk, share code, and post their early progress to a supportive community.

And from this fertile community, several brilliant creative minds had naturally sprouted.

One of those minds belonged to a teenager: Junior Oryn Lyn.

The young boy, who was now sixteen years old and famously known across the net as the player who cracked the Hades final secret, had been quietly teaching himself how to code. Using the open-source compilation tools and basic engine scripts that RTS had generously provided to the public on the forums, Oryn had painstakingly built his very first game.

It was a simple concept. A game where you beat monsters and foes not by swinging a sword, but by spelling and typing.

Sitting in his cramped hab, Oryn nervously scrolled through the Indie Dev section of the forum. He had just uploaded the executable file for his game, waiting for critiques. It had been incredibly hard work for such a simple game, and his heart was pounding. Hopefully, he would get some praise. After all the sleepless nights he had spent debugging the text-parser, hoping for a little bit of praise was okay, right?

…

Back on Friton, deep inside the Round Table Studio headquarters, Arthur was currently on his lunch break.

Leaning back in his hover-chair with a half-eaten sandwich in hand, Arthur casually scrolled through the Avalon forums to fill his mind. Today, he was in the mood to look around the Indie Game Dev section.

It was incredibly refreshing. Seeing everyday gamers organically turning into passionate developers, brimming with fresh ideas, filled him with an immense sense of pride. It was just a start, but Arthur himself could already see that some of these people had the raw potential to eventually contend with and rival what RTS had built. The galaxy was never short of brilliant minds; it just lacked the accessible stage and the light to properly show them.

Imagine his absolute surprise when his eyes landed on a newly posted game that heavily resembled a hidden gem from his past life: Bookworm Adventures.

It was a simple, text-based combat game. The creator had named it Spell Champion.

Arthur smiled, intrigued by the concept. He downloaded the small file and booted it up on his secondary monitor.

The game greeted him with a charming, bright, 16-bit pixel art style. Arthur's little weaver solar avatar stood on the left side of the screen, facing down a pixelated monster on the right. Below the combat screen, the alphabet was completely scrambled, slowly dropping into a circular grid.

Arthur quickly realized the mechanics. He needed to physically connect the letters in the circle to make a valid word and attack the enemy. The longer the word he spelled, the bigger the magical damage his wizard dealt. It was strictly timed, making it surprisingly fast-paced and frantic as the goblin slowly marched toward him.

Most of all, it was genuinely fun.

There was a slight, noticeable jankiness to the sprite animations, and the engine clearly experienced some heavy frame-lag whenever the massive particle effects for an eight-letter word or more triggered, but all in all, it was an incredibly solid, addictive gameplay loop.

Arthur furiously typed on his keyboard, linking letters together to absolutely obliterate a pixelated dragon with the word 'EXCAVATE'.

Without him even knowing it, an entire hour had completely passed.

Arthur blinked, finally looking up from the screen to see the digital clock on his wall. His lunch break was long over. The rest of the studio was already back to work.

Arthur groaned, rubbing his tired eyes. "Gawain," he called out. "Why did you not alert me that my lunch break was over?"

The calm, synthesized voice of the advanced AI echoed softly. "Because you were having fun, sir."

Arthur paused, looking back at the glowing pixel art of Spell Champion on his screen. He couldn't help but smile.

"Yeah," Arthur softly agreed, leaning back in his chair. "That I was."

…

The next morning, sixteen-year-old Oryn Lyn woke up with more raw energy coursing through his veins than he had felt during the entire development of his game.

Last night, his nerves had completely overwhelmed him. The sheer, suffocating anxiety of putting his own creation out into the merciless void of the galactic internet had spiked to terrifying levels. He had been too scared to read a single piece of feedback. To preserve his sanity, he had forcefully closed the Avalon forums, booted up Assassin's Creed, and aimlessly scaled the rooftops of Florence until sheer exhaustion finally forced him to fall asleep.

"Junior!" his mother's voice echoed through the apartment. "Breakfast is ready! The toast is getting cold!"

"Coming, Mom!" Oryn shouted back.

He marched straight over to his computer terminal and dropped heavily into his chair. He took a long, shaky breath and tapped the screen to open the Avalon Indie Developer board.

His notification bell was glowing bright red.

Oryn clicked on his Spell Champion thread. He braced himself and began to read.

It was an absolute rollercoaster of emotions. Some comments were harsh, outright hating on his pixel art and calling the game a janky student project. Other comments offered incredibly genuine, technical advice, gently pointing out the memory leaks in his code and suggesting better ways to loop his text-parsers. And then, sprinkled throughout the thread, were pockets of pure, unadulterated praise. People were saying the game was surprisingly addictive and genuinely fun to play.

Oryn leaned back in his chair, his heart hammering against his ribs. What a terrifying, exhilarating high. He realized he had never felt anything exactly like this before. Even back when he had cracked the final Hades clue and sent the entire gaming community into a frenzy, it paled in comparison to this feeling. Solving a puzzle was amazing. Creating something from scratch and watching strangers actively enjoy it was an entirely different universe of satisfaction.

He smiled warmly, scrolling further down the page to read the rest of the feedback.

Suddenly, his hand completely froze on the mouse.

Nestled among the dozens of standard user avatars was a comment from an account bearing a very specific, heavily verified flair. Right next to the username was a tiny, glowing golden sword badge.

[Knight_Arthur]

Oryn stopped breathing. It was the official account of Arthur Pendragon. The legendary CEO of Round Table Studio was actually commenting on his indie game.

[Knight_Arthur]: I just spent my entire lunch break obliterating a pixelated dragon with the word 'EXCAVATE'. You have a slight frame-lag issue when generating particle effects for longer words, and the sprite animations need a bit of smoothing. However, the core gameplay loop is incredibly solid. It is fast, intuitive, and genuinely fun. Keep building, Oryn.

Oryn stared blankly at the glowing blue text on his monitor. His mind completely short-circuited as the words burned themselves into his retinas.

Can someone be entirely starstruck without ever actually seeing their idol in person?

Because sitting alone in his cramped room, Oryn Lyn definitely was.