"Crowdfunding?"
"You mean crowdfunding like the kind that's popular on the internet right now?"
Before the game developers' competition officially began, Takayuki explained what he believed to be a fairly effective strategy to the event organizers.
At present, indie games were still severely lacking in exposure.
The BattleNet platform had already been doing its best to recommend good games.
But in the end, there was always the possibility of missing some.
It was impossible for every outstanding game to be discovered immediately.
And if a truly good game failed to receive proper promotion, its developer would inevitably feel deeply discouraged.
After several days of serious thought, Takayuki arrived at the idea of crowdfunding.
Sometimes, game development still depended on developers pushing themselves forward.
Relying solely on outsiders to discover a project was ultimately very difficult.
Yet there were very few platforms that were truly helpful for early-stage game promotion.
Many game developers simply couldn't endure long periods of obscurity.
Not everyone had the patience of the creator of Stardew Valley in Takayuki's previous life—someone who could work on a game tirelessly for years and then suddenly explode in popularity.
In fact, even Stardew Valley's success came partly from a stroke of luck, when it caught the attention of a publisher.
Without that discovery, its breakout might have been delayed for a long time.
Looking at the people in front of him, Takayuki said, "Yes, it's crowdfunding similar to the platforms that are popular now. But this time, I want to create a crowdfunding platform specifically for video games. And I don't want it to be like other crowdfunding platforms. I want it to function as a promotional channel and a way to gather like-minded people. On this platform, sometimes all you need is a good-looking idea—an interesting concept that can attract players' attention. At the same time, it can attract other developers and encourage them to join forces with the person who proposed the idea to develop a game together. I'd like to call it a comprehensive service platform."
"So, Takayuki, what do you want us to do?" one of them asked. "Support you on the crowdfunding platform?"
"Exactly. And at the end of the competition, I'll announce that all participating games can be listed on the crowdfunding platform. At that point, we'll be able to see what kinds of games players truly like, instead of relying solely on our own evaluations."
Winning a game development competition was certainly an honor.
But it was never absolute.
Takayuki understood that the perspective of one person—or even a few people—could never fully encompass every game.
Everyone had different preferences.
There were even entire genres Takayuki himself couldn't really play—pure horror games like Outlast or Silent Hill.
He simply couldn't handle games with such intense horror atmospheres. Resident Evil was already his limit.
But he knew there were definitely players who loved those genres, and others who enjoyed all kinds of strange and unconventional games.
And the more unconventional a game was, the harder it was for its developer to gain attention.
Takayuki hoped to give these indie games a chance to truly shine.
Large-scale commercial games could afford to be homogenized—that represented the peak of industrialized game development, much like traditional blockbuster films.
Indie games, on the other hand, needed richness and diversity.
The group exchanged glances, each seeing something meaningful in the others' eyes.
"I won't let you help for nothing," Takayuki continued. "A crowdfunding platform requires mature operations and management. My plate is already full, and I don't really care about the economic value of crowdfunding itself. I just want to see better games. So this crowdfunding platform will be managed by you and the entire Game Developers' Alliance."
The Game Developers' Alliance was an organization formed only in recent years—a world-level industry group spearheaded by Takayuki himself, who had even personally served as its chairman for half a year.
The alliance had been created to help standardize the entire game industry.
But standardization alone couldn't sustain an organization's operating costs.
They still needed to find ways to generate revenue.
This game crowdfunding project now placed before them seemed like a very promising direction.
And it perfectly matched the alliance's philosophy.
Everything was for the better development of video games.
If the crowdfunding platform was run well, it could help the entire game industry grow stronger.
At the same time, it might even allow the alliance to evolve into a world-level social organization, similar to the IOC or FIFA.
"No problem, Takayuki," they replied. "When the time comes, we'll personally help promote it."
Seeing that there were clear benefits to be gained, their enthusiasm rose noticeably.
Everyone chased profit—Takayuki understood that perfectly.
And that was enough.
With enough high-quality indie games, the BattleNet platform—the dominant PC game distribution hub—would also benefit. It would be a multi-party win, with no losers.
"Alright," Takayuki said. "Then I'll look forward to tomorrow's game developers' competition."
His purpose for coming here had clearly been achieved.
What remained was simply to enjoy his role as a game judge.
Oh right—he also needed to prepare a copy of the game he'd finished over the past few days.
Once the competition ended, he planned to release it.
Before that, though… he'd play it himself first.
…
That night, Takayuki once again chose to stay alone in his hotel room.
His employees were baffled, completely unable to figure out what their boss was doing.
They were curious enough to ask, but worried about disturbing some important plan of his.
Only Takayuki himself knew what he was doing in that room—
Grinding away, thoroughly playing The Binding of Isaac.
Back in his previous life, he had logged hundreds of hours into that game.
He even wondered why he'd only thought of making this game now—he should have done it much earlier.
As he played, he also kept tweaking the game's content.
"Hmm, there should be more random effects here. That would make the game more unpredictable and add more of a gambling element."
"This visual effect is a bit harsh on the eyes—better switch it to something more fitting. Looks like you really can't casually change the original effects. The original game definitely has its own strengths."
Fueled by boundless energy, Takayuki stayed up all night without the slightest hint of fatigue, and still felt refreshed the next day.
It wasn't until one hour before the competition began that he finally stepped out of his room and headed to the venue with his staff.