Making Game: CH 139 – Pikablu (Patreon)

A month flew by in the blink of an eye.

The galactic gaming community was still thoroughly entrenched in the Pokémon craze, but Arthur Pendragon was not a man who rested on his laurels. After the release of the Generation 2 and 3 expansions, Round Table Studio dropped a brand-new trailer on the Stellarcast.

It was a completely new IP. And for the first time in the studio's history, it featured a small, highly anticipated tag at the bottom of the screen: [Full VR Support].

But that wasn't the only thing that caught the industry's attention. At the very beginning of the trailer, before the RTS logo even appeared, a sleek, silver emblem flashed across the screen: Powered by the Clarent Engine. It was a monumental milestone. By debuting their very own, custom-built engine, RTS had officially crossed the threshold. They were no longer just a brilliant indie studio. They had stepped into the big leagues.

However, the immense hype surrounding their graduation to AAA status quickly collided with the actual contents of the trailer.

The video opened with a breathtakingly beautiful landscape. A small, cloaked figure with a candle stood on a pristine beach, looking up at a magnificent, cloud-piercing mountain. The music was soft and orchestral. The figure then ran forward, jumping into the air as a cape made of light expanded behind them, allowing them to soar gracefully through the stunning, stylized clouds. They landed, found another player, held their hand, and the two of them cheerfully slid down a massive sand dune together.

Then, the trailer ended.

The galaxy blinked in absolute confusion.

Where was the action scene? Where were the bosses with massive health bars? Where was the combat, the complex tech-trees, or the intense grinding mechanics?

It was, by all conventional metrics, completely underwhelming.

Almost immediately, the corporate gaming media pounced on the opportunity. Rival AAA studios, who had been bleeding profits ever since Stardew Valley stole their player bases, secretly mobilized their departments to frantically fan the flames of disappointment.

Articles began to aggressively circulate across the platforms: 

"Has Round Table Studio Become Too Confident?" "The Problem with 'Too Original': RTS Loses Touch with the Market." "Sky: Children of the Light – A Beautiful Screensaver, But Where is the Game?" 

The smear campaigns eagerly highlighted the fact that RTS was using this bizarre, experimental game as their first real foray into the heavily competitive VR market. To the general public, it looked like Arthur Pendragon had finally succumbed to the arrogance of success, abandoning the hardcore mechanics that gamers actually wanted in favor of an artsy, pointless "walking simulator."

[Avalon Forums - General Gaming] [Thread: Thoughts on the 'Sky' Trailer? Is RTS finally dropping a flop?]

PlasmaRifle_Main: I've watched the trailer three times now. I genuinely don't get it. You just... fly around and meet people? What are we supposed to defeat? What is the core gameplay loop? It's literally a walking simulator.

CodeMiner77: I have to agree. RTS has always been innovative, but this is TOO original. There is a reason walking simulators don't sell in the Accord. People want action in VR. This feels like a massive step backward after Hades, Pokémon, and Assassin's Creed.

Void_Watcher: You guys are looking at this wrong. Look at the logo at the start. 'Clarent Engine'. This isn't a full game. It's a tech demo. RTS just built their own proprietary VR engine, and they need a sandbox to test the flight physics, the multiplayer servers, and the server-side collision before they make a REAL game. 

Critical_Eater: So they expect us to pay 30 credits to beta-test their server loads by holding hands in a desert? Hard pass. The fame has definitely gotten to Arthur's head.

LoreNerd99: Come on guys, let them cook! It's Round Table Studio! Have they ever let us down? There is definitely a deep, tragic lore hidden beneath the clouds. You can see ruined temples in the background of the 1:12 timestamp! It's probably a puzzle game! 

Toxic_Gamer: Copium levels are off the charts today, LoreNerd. It's a flop. Accept it.

FramePerfect: I genuinely don't even know how I'm supposed to speedrun friendship and good vibes. Do I just hold hands faster than the other players?

It was a strange, unprecedented atmosphere for RTS. The loyal, die-hard fans were desperately trying to remain optimistic, clinging to the studio's flawless track record. The neutral fans simply viewed it as a harmless testing ground for the new Clarent Engine.

But for the first time in four years, the overwhelming consensus of the galaxy was heavily steeped in doubt. The reception was undeniably cold. RTS had taken a massive leap of faith into the VR market, and the public wasn't entirely sure there was a haystack waiting for them at the bottom.

…

Inside the sunlit conference room of the Round Table Studio headquarters, Arthur Pendragon sat calmly with a warm cup of caf in hand.

The cold reception from the mainstream gaming media was entirely within his expectations. Even a peaceful game like Stardew Valley had included sword combat and dangerous monsters deep within the mines. Pitching a game completely stripped of combat, weapons, or explicit competitive violence was always going to cause cognitive dissonance in a society conditioned by relentless corporate action titles.

Raja had already warned him days prior that rival Core World publishers would likely hire review farms and online agitators to fan the flames. Sure enough, the sudden tidal wave of vitriol across social media was wildly disproportionate.

Lin Liseli slumped over the round table, burying her face into her folded arms.

Kasavin pushed his glasses up his nose and sighed. "Come on, Liseli. It is hardly as if we did not anticipate this pushback."

"I know," Liseli mumbled into the desk, her voice muffled. "I know that logically. Still, it feels awful when the fans who were just cheering for us suddenly turn around and start roaring boos."

Logan leaned back in his chair, twirling a stylus between his fingers. "The critics are technically correct about the genre label. Sky is a walking simulator. The difference is that we designed every single movement mechanic to feel fluid, responsive, and genuinely engaging."

"I remain fully confident in the project," Ross Dalle chimed in from across the table, his long three-jointed arms resting comfortably on the armrests. "Our silent environmental storytelling, combined with the dynamic acoustic tracks my department composed, will carry this experience much further than standard marketing ever could."

"Still," Bem muttered, rubbing the back of his neck with an uneasy expression. "This is our very first time going through this specific kind of experience."

Arthur took a slow sip of his drink, raising an eyebrow. "What experience is that, Bem?"

"Being told by the entire galaxy that our game sucks," Bem admitted bluntly.

A quiet ripple of nervous chuckles passed through the room.

Arthur smiled gently. He placed his mug onto the polished table and stood up, drawing everyone's eyes toward him.

"Every single person in this room has playtested the final build," Arthur said smoothly. "We explored the realms together, we solved the puzzles, and we had a great time. That is the fundamental core of gaming: pure entertainment. If an experience fails to be fun, there is no reason to create it in the first place."

Arthur paused, his eyes flashing with quiet confidence. "Besides, do you want to know what is even more entertaining than making a good game?"

The entire team looked up at their young CEO, waiting for his answer.

Arthur offered a wide, sharp grin. "Proving every single one of our haters completely wrong."

…

Meanwhile, light-years away from the corporate politics of the Core Worlds, life moved at a vastly different pace on the Outer Rim.

At the edge of a dusty, wind-swept settlement, the colorful neon sign of Fo's Chip & Play hummed with steady electricity. The humble, old-school physical game shop was flourishing in its own unique way. To an outside observer, it might have looked like a chaotic daycare, yet every single child from the local village gathered here daily after their chores.

The massive Pokémon expansion had not yet reached their planetary relay. Because the local star system's orbital alignment was currently facing away from the primary Accord hyper-comm satellites, the settlement would have to wait another four months for the massive digital data-burst. Their only other hope was a traveling merchant guild passing through with physical storage chips to copy.

Despite the lack of new content, the original Pokémon game remained just as popular and fiercely debated as the day it arrived.

Since most local information trickled through fragmented, low-bandwidth planetary networks, the schoolyard rumor mill was running wild with hoaxes and urban legends.

Behind the counter, Fo was cleaning the dust off a stack of refurbished cartridge readers when the excited voices of several children at the central gaming table caught his ear.

"I am telling you, it works!" a young boy shouted, aggressively tapping his heliopad screen. "If you hold down the left analog stick and tap the bottom button the exact second the Pokéball closes, it locks the capture rate at one hundred percent! My cousin on the mining station tested it!"

"That is totally fake," a girl with braided hair scoffed, crossing her arms. "Everyone knows the real secret is in Vermilion City."

"What secret?" another kid leaned in, eyes wide with fascination.

"You know that empty plot of dirt where the old man and his Machop are stomping the ground?" the girl whispered conspiratorially. "If you defeat the Elite Four exactly one hundred times in a row without using any healing items, that plot turns into an official ninth Gym. And the game lets you become the Gym Leader and design your own gym!"

The entire table gasped in collective awe, frantically pulling out their game saves to check their Elite Four victory counters.

Sitting at the center of a crowded bench was Mika, now sixteen years old and carrying herself with the unmistakable swagger of a veteran player. Surrounding her was a flock of younger kids, hanging on her every word as she dished out rumors about the upcoming expansion.

"Listen up," Mika declared, leaning over the table with an air of absolute authority. "It is called Pikablu. It is the secret, water-type evolution of Pikachu. You should count yourselves lucky to have someone like me introduce this to all of you little shits."

Fo tapped the wooden counter sharply. "Mika..."

Mika flinched, quickly shrinking under Fo's stern glare for her colorful language. She offered an awkward grin, rubbing the back of her neck. "Sorry, Uncle Fo."

The younger kids completely ignored the scolding, practically bouncing in their seats. "How do we get one?" a younger boy asked eagerly.

"I don't believe you," another child piped up with crossed arms. "Pikachu is electric. An electric mouse cannot evolve into a blue water creature."

Mika smiled smugly. "Is that so? Do not worry, little guy. I brought proof."

She reached into her jacket pocket and dramatically slapped a printed holographic capture onto the table.

It was a crisp, full-color rendering of Marill, the round, blue aquatic mouse with its zigzag tail. The visual evidence instantly shattered all doubt. The table exploded into pure chaos as every kid began bombarding Mika with questions all at once, asking what level it evolved and where to find the special water stones. Mika leaned back, happily basking in the limelight of their undivided attention.

Standing behind the counter, Fo could not help but chuckle softly to himself as he shook his head. He had no idea where these kids managed to dig up such wildly creative myths, yet watching their eyes shine with pure wonder reminded him why this small shop was worth keeping open.

…

Another week passed in a steady rhythm.

Even with the ongoing skepticism surrounding Sky: Children of the Light, the atmosphere inside Round Table Studio remained remarkably optimistic. The developers knew the Clarent Engine would speak for itself. Nothing currently on the commercial market could match its level of physical immersion and butter-smooth performance.

Early in the morning, Arthur, Kasavin, and Raja were gathered around the central terminal in the executive wing. They were deep in discussion over the heavy industrial machinery required for the Caliburn VR manufacturing line.

"If we are committing to full physical production, we should purchase top-tier quantum-stamping presses right away," Arthur argued, pointing to a catalog of heavy machinery. "They carry a massive upfront cost, yet they will easily handle our hardware revisions for the next decade without bottlenecking output."

Raja shook his head, offering a measured counterpoint. "A ten-year apparatus requires enormous maintenance capital before the market even adopts the hardware. A progressive, modular setup allows us to scale up our assembly line alongside actual consumer demand. We keep our liquidity intact and avoid paying for idle capacity."

Kasavin raised both hands to mediate the debate. "Both points are valid. How about we secure high-grade processors for the primary fabrication rig, while keeping the secondary chassis assemblers on a modular lease? That way, Arthur gets his future-proof precision, and Raja preserves our quarterly operating margins."

Arthur tapped his chin, considering the compromise, while Raja quietly nodded in agreement.

Before they could finalize the order, Ross Dalle strolled past the glass partition.

Arthur turned to greet him, only to freeze mid-sentence. Across Ross's left cheek was a jagged, raw cut, and his lower lip was noticeably swollen and split.

"Hey, Ross," Arthur called out, his tone shifting instantly to concern. "What happened to your face?"

Ross stopped in his tracks. He raised one of his three-jointed hands to brush his chin, offering a faint, playful smirk. "Just enhancing my profile, boss. Got even more handsome, didn't I?"

Kasavin frowned, stepping forward. "Did someone mug you on your way in?"

Ross laughed awkwardly, waving off the concern. "Nothing like that… I just lost my footing and took a nasty tumble down the stairs at the transit station. I already went to the clinic this morning. No fractures, no stitches required."

Raja adjusted his datapad, his voice firm and supportive. "Send the medical bill straight to company accounting. We will cover the entire invoice."

"No need, truly," Ross replied, backing toward the hallway. "The recent launch bonus covered it ten times over. I should get to the recording booth now."

With a polite nod, Ross turned and hurried down the corridor toward the audio wing.

Arthur, Kasavin, and Raja stood in silence, watching him leave. The three of them exchanged a quiet, knowing look. It was obvious that Ross was concealing the real story, yet none of them wanted to corner him if he chose to keep the matter private.

…

Weeks turned into months once again, and the winter snow on Friton reached its absolute peak.

Outside the studio windows, thick white flakes drifted down over the quiet fields, covering the pasture in a pristine winter coat. The official release of Sky: Children of the Light was right on the horizon, scheduled for launch tomorrow.

For now, the realm of music had its own bustling battlefield. The galactic music industry had expanded into a vibrant renaissance. With Percival releasing legendary compositions left and right, composers across multiple star systems had grown noticeably bolder. Artists were no longer afraid to experiment with unconventional instruments, strange time signatures, and raw emotional resonance.

Inside the home studio, Ratik stood by the terminal, reviewing her weekly talent reports.

"Here is the finalized list of rising stars and active projects," Ratik stated, sliding a digital slate across the desk. "Briane is officially stepping away on an extended hiatus for the next year. Meanwhile, Nazir specifically asked to hold off on receiving any more of your songs."

Dorian looked up from his console. "Oh? Is Nazir doing alright?"

"He is doing very well," Ratik replied with a faint smile. "He explained that he wants time to write and produce his own full-length album, entirely created by his own hand."

"Good for him," Dorian said, nodding approvingly. "Send him a box of those fresh cookies Lyra just baked this morning. In fact, send another batch to Briane as well."

Ratik marked the delivery order on her slate. "Consider it done."

Dorian scrolled through the remaining entries on the roster. His finger paused on a peculiar name highlighted at the bottom of the page.

"Norva Park?" Dorian read aloud, tilting his head with genuine curiosity. "What kind of band is this?"

"A local rock outfit," Ratik explained, tapping the profile to bring up their file. "The members are all former dock workers, or at least the lead vocalist used to haul freight crates before they formed the group. According to our scouts, they drew their inspiration directly from your track, Wind of Change. In the lyrics, you sang about following the Zelva up to Norva Park, so they adopted the location as their band name."

Dorian's golden-green eyes brightened. "Are they based out of the lower levels of Nexus Prime?"

"No," Ratik clarified. "They originated from the industrial harbor district on the Gate Planet, Proxima."

Dorian felt a momentary pang of mild disappointment. Norva Park was a real park nestled within the dense urban sprawl of Nexus Prime, yet he quickly realized these musicians were simply drawn to the emotional imagery of the song itself.

He opened the attached video feed. The profile listed the lead singer as Chester Willingham.

On the holographic display, a grainy recording of a live underground performance flickered to life. The stage was set in a dimly lit, grease-stained warehouse. Chester stood before the microphone, gripping the stand with fierce intensity as heavy guitar riffs reverberated through the venue. When the chorus arrived, Chester unleashed a soaring, piercing high note that carried raw, unvarnished power across the crowded floor.

Dorian smiled, thoroughly impressed by the vocal control.

"Have they formally submitted a request for material?" Dorian asked.

"They have not," Ratik answered. "They remain strictly localized. Almost their entire audience consists of working-class laborers from Proxima's lower sectors who specifically go out of their way to attend these warehouse gigs."

Dorian immediately turned to his private archive terminal, rapidly searching through his master demo vault.

Ratik watched him type and let out a knowing sigh. "You are going to hand them an original song, aren't you?"

Dorian nodded without looking up.

"I have to remind you," Ratik cautioned gently, "investing resources into an unproven, underground band will hardly be profitable."

"We can manage," Dorian interjected with an easy grin. "We have never prioritized pure profit over genuine talent."

Ratik shook her head, though an amused smirk touched her lips. "Fair enough. I will establish contact with their manager on Proxima. Which track are you planning to offer them?"

"Songs," Dorian corrected, queuing two finished audio files into the secure transfer buffer. "I have two distinct demos for them to choose between."

On the primary display, the two file names loaded into the transfer queue:

[What I've Done]

[Dream On]

"Let me know which direction they prefer to take," Dorian said, shutting down the audio terminal.

"I will reach out to them today," Ratik agreed, gathering her datapad. As she reached the door, she paused, looking back at the tired lines around Dorian's eyes. "Dorian. You need to rest."

Dorian gave a light chuckle, stretching his arms. "I will get plenty of sleep tonight. Sky officially launches tomorrow, after all."

Ratik narrowed her eyes in mock suspicion. "I am going to speak with Raja immediately. We will handle tomorrow's launch monitoring so you can step away from the monitors."

"Wait, Ratik, that really isn't necessary," Dorian called out.

Ratik had already stepped through the sliding doors, leaving the room in quiet peace. Dorian could only shake his head, laughing softly as the winter snow fell silently against the glass.

=====

A/N: Hi. I'm just here to rant a little and tell you all what's been happening recently, and why my chapter releases have been a bit sparse lately.

For some context: my father is a full professor with several degrees, while I'm just a computer engineering bachelor's graduate. I used to work as a concierge, and now I'm working as an animator while doing this on the side.

A few days ago, several aunties came over to my house. I wasn't in the best mental state to begin with. Every frame of animation felt sluggish, and every piece of writing I produced felt unreadable. Then they started saying that I'm getting too fat, too thin, too obsessed with work, that I need to find a girlfriend soon, asking when I'm going to continue my studies further, when I'm going to get married, and so on.

I know they mean well. I really do. But for all the gods there are, hearing all of that started getting stuck in my head. And eventually, it began to gnaw at me.

So, I decided to be honest with myself.

I've done my best. Granted, I know I could do better, but simply acknowledging that these things were bothering me somehow made the burden feel lighter.

I want you (and myself) to remember this: be honest. Not just with other people, but with yourself, too. Sometimes, admitting that something bothers you is the first step toward letting it go.

Anyway, thanks for coming to my TED Talk.

Enjoy the chapter!