Game Chapter 11: Investing (Patreon)

Meanwhile, in Viridian City, inside a shabby rental.

A string of prompts suddenly popped up in front of Sean:

[Ding! Congratulations, Host. You received “shock, confusion, excitement, satisfaction” from special person “Iono,” totaling 320 Emotion Points!]

[Ding! Congratulations, Host. You received 430 Emotion Points from various emotions generated by viewers and purchasers of the game!]

[You gained 750 Emotion Points in total. Current balance: 923.]

Sean was polishing some game details at his PC and nearly jumped from the sudden pop-ups.

Then it clicked.

—Cynthia had just finished streaming his game; now Iono was playing it too?

If he remembered right, Iono was a massive streamer. Levincia Gym had boomed under her streams and become a top-tier attraction.

The 750 points in one gulp pushed his total close to 1,000—and the number was still creeping up, which meant her stream was still going…

He alt-tabbed, searched “Iono,” and jumped into her stream.

He arrived just in time to see Lileep carry her off on a stretcher—figuratively—and dump her back at the Pokémon Center.

In the bottom-right facecam, Iono’s cheeks were flushed. Clearly, it wasn’t her first loss.

Chat was going nuts:

[Attempt #11! You got this!]

[So close—if it hadn’t used Recover, we’d have had it.]

[Correction: not “win”—we’d finally have seen the Leader’s second Pokémon.]

[Lol, feels like something even nastier is waiting behind this one…]

[Streamer’s already −15,000 in the hole. Rip.]

Sean immediately understood: she’d hit a wall at Rustboro Gym.

He wasn’t surprised.

His first time with Hyper Emerald, even without Madman Mode, he’d been stuck there a while.

Roxanne’s team is just that ridiculous. Lileep alone—maxed dual defenses, Recover, Mega Drain, Confuse Ray—is practically invincible that early.

Even in its first stage, both defensive base stats are near 100…

At these early “pecking match” levels, it’s a wall—no, a fortress.

Who says there isn’t a Pokémon that’s basically a wall? There it is.

And that’s before you add the rest: Archeops with sky-high offenses that can delete you in one hit; Cranidos with coverage like Fire Punch and Thunder Punch; Probopass with Leftovers bulk and heavy hitters like Power Gem and Dazzling Gleam; even Rockruff, unimpressive on paper, packing Hyper Voice and Earth Power…

Not a single grass-eater among them.

Raw stats and nasty mechanics, hand in hand.

In that setup, if players don’t pull out some tricks, they just don’t win.

Back then, before he ever looked up a guide, Sean only scraped by after many tries.

In his Emerald, because the party cap is 15 total Pokémon, he rebalanced by cutting Roxanne’s roster down to three: Archeops, Lileep, and Cranidos.

Looks like half the difficulty, but with Madman Mode modifiers, upgraded AI for Roxanne, and an extra Leftovers on Lileep, it’s actually harder than the original—and that’s exactly what he wanted.

The game is positioned as a high-difficulty challenge. If it’s not that hard… what’s the point?

Would some people bounce off it? Maybe. He wasn’t worried.

Hard games are exactly what the market lacks. Plenty of players want peaks to climb and bosses to break.

For casuals or folks who just want the experience, he could add Standard or Relaxed modes later.

In those modes, the focus would be story and feel. Hyper Emerald’s base plot is already fun (a bit dull later), and he planned to add fresh storylines on top.

But as a game dev, he knew narrative is expensive—time and people. Writers, art for cutscenes, animations, endless iteration. Even music has to fit the scene’s emotional core.

Even a “simple” main story beat can take weeks across teams.

With the System, that was manageable—but he still wanted top-tier story quality to show the world what games can do.

To reach that level, he’d need tech support.

He looked at a few modules he’d favorited today:

[Emotional Rendering Module (Intermediate)]

Description: Via screen-link, read player heart rate, auto-tint scenes to match emotion (reddish for anxiety, cool blue for sadness, brighter for excitement), and subtly retune music to fit the mood.

Cost: 2,200.

[Oppressive Presence Materialization (Intermediate)]

Description: Fully reproduces the “pressure” of powerful Pokémon or marquee characters, transmitting it through electronic frequencies to give players a visceral, in-the-room sensation.

Cost: 2,000.

[Soul Music Module (Intermediate)]

Description: Adds scene-appropriate, soul-stirring music that reliably evokes emotional waves.

Cost: 1,500.

[Advanced CG Module (Intermediate)]

Description: Generates ultra-high-quality “Blu-ray” CGs from your mental imagery. After activation, Emotion Points from CG/animation/cinematic content are doubled.

Cost: 1,400.

To deliver a truly moving story, these were basically must-haves.

But together they were nearly 10,000 points.

He couldn’t afford them if he sold himself.

So for now… keep pushing Madman Mode.

Earn enough Emotion Points first; then build the deeper narrative content.

He couldn’t buy an Intermediate module yet, but a few Basics were within reach.

He scanned the Basic section; prompts cascaded:

[Weather Compiler (Basic)]

Description: Adds dynamic weather with matching mechanics. (In rain: Water moves stronger, Fire weaker, certain moves become guaranteed hit; increased spawn chance for certain species like Mothim/Piplup, etc.)

Cost: 250.

[Skill Particle FX (Basic)]

Description: Adds particle effects to all move animations, boosting visual punch.

Cost: 150.

[Text Decipher (Basic)]

Description: Converts real ancient scripts into in-game ruin inscriptions to boost historical authenticity; also lets the Host understand and use any civilization’s language.

Cost: 200.

Plenty of Basics were true “bang for the buck”—strong effects at low cost.

But he didn’t buy those first. He went straight to a favorited pick:

[Production Efficiency Boost (Basic)]

Description: Increases development efficiency for all game types.

Cost: 450.

Short description, exactly what he needed.

With the System, he’d likely be a one-man army. Recruiting others would risk exposing the System’s functions. Even with help, the core work would still land on him.

So no matter the genre, he was the main workforce.

Without an efficiency boost, bigger projects would grind him into the floor.

He needed to build content faster than players could consume it to keep momentum. Early on, lots of folks would stall at the first Gym, rival, or Team Rocket. But as understanding grew, progression would accelerate—and then his production speed would be tested.

Best solution: prepare later content in advance and live-tune based on player feedback.

With Efficiency Boost, he felt confident.

He bought it.

The “Efficiency” module slotted into place; points deducted.

With a bit over 500 left, he browsed Basics and bought “Weather Compiler,” “Skill Particle FX,” and “NPC Persona Module.”

He’d already reviewed the first two. The “NPC Persona Module” would give in-game characters distinct personalities and more humanlike reactions—further strengthening the built-in AI.

All three cost him 550 total, dropping his balance to single digits.

He wasn’t worried.

As more people played, Emotion Points would keep rolling in.

His job now was simple: make the best game he could.

As the saying goes—good wine needs no bush.

Still, once it was solid, a bit of promotion wouldn’t hurt.

The more people who (ahem) “tilt,” er, play, the more points flow in.

He glanced at the sleeping Litwick, opened his folders, and kept building.

…

Meanwhile—

Sinnoh region, Canalave City.

A famous port on the sea; thousands of cruise ships dock and depart every day. The traffic brought endless crowds, yet a quiet alley cut through the din.

Tap, tap, tap.

Heels echoed through the alley—then stopped.

A tall blonde woman in sunglasses halted. Even reined-in, she radiated mature poise.

She looked around, eyes settling on the ground nearby, and spoke softly:

“…Looks like you beat me here again. Sorry to keep you waiting.”

As the words fell, a shadow on the pavement stirred—then a figure rose out of it.

A young man with short black hair in a sharp black suit.

He smiled. “No worries, Cynthia. You know me—always early.”

“Oh, right…”

His smile faded; he scratched his head, sheepish.

“About the person you wanted me to find… there’s a snag.”

Cynthia blinked. “A snag?”

“Tsk.” He clicked his tongue and gave a wry smile. “Short version: I confirmed the game really was developed by one person.”

Cynthia’s brows lifted.

A game that good—truly solo, not a studio?

He went on, “But the League’s official database has no record on the developer.”

He gestured to a nearby door. “Let’s talk inside. I’ve already ordered. If it goes cold, it won’t taste as good.”