Some of the others present were judges just like Takayuki, but in terms of status, they were clearly no match for him.
As for game development ability, there was no need to even mention it—Takayuki stood far above the rest.
For these judges, being able to interact with Takayuki up close was an extremely valuable opportunity. They could discuss game development with him directly, a classic case of "those near the water draw first."
Takayuki was also very patient. There was nothing else demanding his attention at the moment, and he was genuinely enjoying the collective atmosphere of game development. He loved this kind of environment.
Everyone was striving toward the same goal, doing their best to create the best possible game for the competition.
If even a few truly outstanding games emerged, that would mean Takayuki himself could experience them—and for a player, there was no happier moment than that.
And so, an entire day passed in the blink of an eye.
"Mr. Takayuki, we can head back to rest for now. The developers can continue working here on their own. There are dedicated staff members who will handle support for the contestants."
After 10 p.m., one of the judges suggested that Takayuki return to rest.
Takayuki waved his hand dismissively. "No need to worry about me. I like this atmosphere right now. I'm not short on one or two days of rest. You all can go ahead and rest."
"Uh…"
The judges exchanged looks.
Then they recalled a rumor.
The rumor was that Takayuki possessed extraordinary mental endurance.
Back when games were just beginning to rise, he had once gone seven days and seven nights without sleep, burying himself in development alone.
It was precisely this ruthless drive that had allowed him to trigger the explosive rise of the game industry, sweeping across the world at breathtaking speed.
Of course, many people had always assumed it was exaggerated.
But now…
Hearing Takayuki casually say that he didn't care about rest forced them to recall that rumor once again.
"You all go rest. I'll take another look around the competition area."
After a full day had passed, most developers had already entered actual development. Some teams even seemed to have completed a first version of their demo. As a player, Takayuki was already itching to try them out.
Rest? Forget rest. How could he possibly rest during such an interesting competition?
"T-then please take care of yourself, Mr. Takayuki. We'll head back first."
The judges had no choice.
They weren't built like Takayuki—their bodies wouldn't allow it—so they could only leave reluctantly and return to rest.
The competition venue itself was similar.
Some participants had begun preparing to sleep.
With a forty-eight-hour development window, every minute mattered, but rest was still necessary.
Most people planned to conserve energy tonight and pull an all-nighter tomorrow.
Once the judges left, Takayuki reentered the competition area.
This time, there was clearly much more to see.
With several hundred teams developing games simultaneously, it meant that several hundred new games would be born from this competition.
Such an opportunity was incredibly rare, and Takayuki had no intention of missing it. The moment he stepped inside, he went straight to the nearest team and carefully examined their freshly completed demo.
The demo was still quite rough. It was built using Unreal Engine, and many assets were publicly licensed engine materials. These would obviously be replaced later—right now, the priority was ensuring that gameplay and environments ran stably.
"Mr. Takayuki, would you like to try it out?"
When the team saw Takayuki approach, they immediately perked up—especially when they noticed his interest. They eagerly invited him to try their demo.
Takayuki nodded without hesitation. "Of course. May I ask what kind of game you're planning to make?"
"We're aiming for a flight-based dodge game. The character flies through the sky, constantly avoiding obstacles and attacks from all directions, eventually reaching the destination."
The concept was simple—still very much at the framework stage.
Once the core gameplay proved stable, they planned to add more content.
Takayuki sat down at a prepared test machine, while the team gathered around him, explaining how to play.
The controls were easy to grasp, and Takayuki quickly got the hang of it.
The game felt a lot like a flying version of Subway Surfers.
In Subway Surfers, a character runs forward along multiple lanes, with the player switching lanes to dodge obstacles, aiming to run as far as possible.
Another similar game was Temple Run.
The demo in front of Takayuki featured a winged character flying along multiple aerial lanes, dodging obstacles—essentially the same concept.
Games like this were plentiful on the market—if not a thousand, then at least a few hundred. Standing out with this gameplay alone would be extremely difficult.
After a few minutes of playtesting, Takayuki said, "It's quite good. The game is very stable—but placing highly will be difficult."
To the team, that was already praise. They were visibly pleased, and one of them replied, "We know. This time we're mainly here to participate. The game isn't finished yet—I already have several development directions planned. As long as the demo stays stable tomorrow, we'll start adding them."
Takayuki nodded. "That's great. I'll come back to check on it later. I'm looking forward to seeing how it turns out."
After offering encouragement, Takayuki stood up and moved on to the next team.
With several hundred teams, checking every game would take a tremendous amount of time.
Takayuki estimated that it would take him an entire night just to briefly experience everyone's work.
Most people would have given up immediately—very few would be willing to do something like this.
But Takayuki was a judge, and with that role came responsibility.
More importantly, he genuinely wanted to participate in the competition as a player.
That, after all, was one of the main reasons he had come here in the first place.