To ascend, I had no choice but to create games

Chapter 74: The Great Idea l

After cussing out Fang Cheng Studio, Tang Mo hit a quick three-button combo and then shifted his attention to another video.

Feeling unsatisfied after watching it, he began to search for other similar videos and soon discovered that in just one day, someone had taken the 7.5- minute video and broken it down frame by frame to analyze every element on the screen.

From the style of the armor to the technique of drawing a bow, from the geographical environment to the breeds of horses, every single detail in the video could be dissected and discussed at length—it seemed another group of niche content creators had found sustenance.

And these creators seemed to agree on one thing, “It’s too real, it doesn’t seem staged.”

Some joked that the studio had taken a camera back in time for a round of ancient exploration, while others said that no amount of money could make them brave such harsh conditions.

While some criticized certain aspects of the video for a lack of rigor, others would throw historical facts back at them, telling the critics to watch properly before spewing nonsense.

In this back-and-forth exchange of blows, the video’s popularity kept soaring until it finally hit a million views and the fan count rose to fifty thousand.

Meanwhile, the dwindling number of days also made the audience aware that Fang Cheng Studio seemed to be gearing up for a major event.

On the third day, the next video arrived.

“Five days from Chang’an.”

More details were revealed, more battles displayed. An almost real depiction of the late Tang Dynasty unfolded, presenting the audience with a time that was brutal yet incredibly romantic.

The sun of the Tang was setting, but its afterglow remained warm, its evening sun still casting light across the sky, guiding the righteous towards the Tang Dynasty.

Massive battles appeared for the first time, not between the Tang and Tubo, but within Tubo itself.

Slaves unable to endure Tubo’s domestic rule began to rebel, their rage sweeping across Tubo like a colossal wave, even threatening to engulf a passing group of five.

Facing these once compatriots, the five-person group could only keep avoiding them, and under Monkey’s lead, they struggled to find their way to the Tang Dynasty.

But then, the video ended, “Stay tuned for the next day.”

Tang Mo, having just indulged in the excitement, started to bang on the table out of frustration, but he also knew that building anticipation day by day was the key—releasing everything at once would spoil the fun.

But it was infuriating nonetheless!

If only he knew where the studio was located, he’d dare to buy a bunch of utility knives and send them over.

As Tang Mo anxiously awaited, the videos continued to be released daily, driving the audience’s anticipation for the ultimate event to its peak.

Finally, the last video was published.

In the video, the five-person group was in dire straits.

They got entangled in the slave rebellion, discovered by a group of well-trained Tubo soldiers, encountered flash floods on their journey, and were almost robbed by a band of refugees to be turned into cured meat.

But in the end, they made it.

The soldiers on the city walls looked in disbelief at these veterans who had come from seven thousand miles away.

The group was scarred and battered, their leather armor torn and ragged, but they had protected their military flag with their lives, keeping it unblemished.

At this moment, as the flag waved proudly, the sun and moon on it highlighting the glory of the Tang’s return, the Anxi Protectorate was once again reunited with the Tang Dynasty.

“Tang Dynasty, we’re back!”

It wasn’t until this moment that the video revealed its main theme and the big event they had planned.

“Fang Cheng Studio, introducing its latest high-freedom masterpiece, ‘The Nameless’ is now online. Let us meet in the Tang Dynasty.”

Seven days, seven high-quality videos for promotion—it wasn’t the first time this had been done.

But the higher the expectations raised among players, the riskier the outcome could be.

If the game did not meet expectations, it would inevitably lead to a catastrophic outcome.

But the veteran players had no doubts.

Seeing a game from Fang Cheng Studio, just blindly buying it was the way to go —they hadn’t been duped yet.

Some new players hesitated.

The standard price of 68 wasn’t high, but deception by CGI was all too common, and it did make some people reflect for a moment.

While some looked on with caution, some gaming channel creators had already jumped ahead to play the game and shared their reviews.

Don’t buy it!

It’s too, too difficult!

To keep up with the current pace of players, Huang Ping had made some modifications to the game and removed some infuriatingly difficult content. For instance, the voice system.

The accent at the end of Tang dynasty was vastly different from the modern one, sounding a bit like Southern Min and Hakka dialects; ordinary players would be completely bewildered by it.

Besides that, Huang Ping also incorporated a voice system that allowed players to use microphones to communicate with NPCs, making it easier to issue commands.

Some physical conditions were also digitized, allowing players to see their current status through a panel to understand their own and their companion’s health condition. Even without any skills, they could act as an adept doctor.

But it was still too hard!

Tang Mo tried it out, too, but was ultimately persuaded to give up, resigned.

The game was really fun, the level of detail in the scenes made him feel like the production team had actually visited the late Tang period and then transported that scenery into the game.

But it was also truly difficult.

Just dealing with the three Tubo cavalry members in the opening scene, he had no idea how to counter them. In the end, he hid in an abandoned well for a day after consulting a guide to finish it.

Because he hadn’t resisted the cavalry, he was allowed to stay in the village, but it wasn’t long before he was conscripted as a slave soldier and subsequently died of humiliation in the military camp at the age of sixteen.

After several attempts, Tang Mo never managed to live past the age of sixteen.

Looking at the game’s Steam comment section, Tang Mo found that most players shared his experience.

[It’s fun, but hard. It really is fun, but just too hard.]

[Stepping outside the house, even the dogs passing by could kill me three times.]

(I tried to launch a sneak attack, but I was malnourished and didn’t have the strength. The enemy discovered me and gave me one strike, and I died.]

(A masterpiece, no explanation needed.]

[To complete it, you just need hands, but the problem is, my hands were chopped off as soon as I stepped outside.]

Due to its excessive difficulty and ultra-realistic restoration, those who liked it couldn’t get enough of it, while those who didn’t condemned Fang Cheng for being pretentious and starting to make Soul Series to bully the players.

Tang Mo had also considered giving up, but he really couldn’t let go of the armor available later in the game. With no other choice, he had to pick up the game again, gritting his teeth and following guides, but got stuck at the Protectorate of Anxi.

With no strength in the early game, wandering through the desert left him malnourished and sick. Upon reaching the Protectorate of Anxi, he could only work in logistics, simply gazing at the armor and weaponry, his frail body unable to wear them.

With a sigh of regret, Tang Mo temporarily saved the game and exited. He then opened a document, ready to finish today’s draft.

He, Tang Mo, a small-time historical fiction writer on a website, didn’t have many readers, but they were all very sweet. Making ends meet every month wasn’t a problem for him.

Although playing the game had taken some of his time, some of the game events had inspired him, sparking his creativity.

In two hours, he finished today’s quota and, just after releasing it, saw comments popping up in the readers’ group: [Old Tang’s recent form is good; the details in his writing are incredibly realistic. Just wish there was more.] [On the Steam platform, “The Nameless” by Old Tang has an eleven-hour playtime. Old Tang, you’ve let me down.]

[Just eleven hours.]

[The game officially launched only fourteen hours ago! ]

[I think “The Nameless” can be considered a form of research.]

[I agree, but you can’t always be playing. How about this, Old Tang, you update a chapter every time you die, what do you think?]

[You could have made Old Tang just write “death”, yet you still let him play the game, real tears!]

Reading the comments from his readers, Tang Mo found it quite amusing.

Writing a book, without reader comments, would lessen the fun by more than half.

Then, a reader commented: [What do you think would happen if we modern people were to be transported to the world of “The Nameless”?]

[We’d probably die miserably in the early stages, but once familiar, we should be able to survive. However, individual power is limited; to climb the tech tree, it would be best to bring along an external cheat device from Baidu.]

[Or having a group of friends brainstorming together would work too.]

[Agreed, a group of people sharing one body to strategize and progress together, then change history. I remember there was a similar manga before.]

As Tang read through the readers’ discussion, he initially couldn’t help but laugh.

But gradually, his smile faded.

He swiftly reopened the game, and looking at the character who had arrived at the Protectorate of Anxi, a bold idea began to take shape.

This idea… might just work!