Inside Micfo's game development department office, everyone sat in silence.
"This is just too despair-inducing… How could something like this happen? It completely defies logic."
The head of the game development department muttered to himself.
Micfo had released several games recently that were, by all accounts, of decent quality.
Many of the people behind them were talents who had graduated from Gamestar Electronic Entertainment's video game development courses.
Gamestar Electronic Entertainment produced outstanding talent internally—every one of them was an exceptionally capable game developer.
But most of these people were unwilling to leave Gamestar Electronic Entertainment lightly.
Because working there brought them joy, and allowed them to bring joy to other players as well.
Not everyone wanted to expand endlessly and grow stronger like a capitalist.
Many people simply wanted to do their job well, while bringing happiness to themselves and others—and that was enough.
People like this might be derided in later generations as those who had "given up striving."
Oh wait—this era already counted as the future.
These people were unwilling to leave Gamestar Electronic Entertainment.
But there were also others who were influenced by Gamestar Electronic Entertainment and became key pillars within many different game companies.
These were the people who had long been studying in Gamestar Electronic Entertainment's game development classes.
They weren't employees of Gamestar Electronic Entertainment, nor partners, and might even work under competitors.
But in the classroom, Gamestar Electronic Entertainment treated everyone equally.
In class, there were no enemies or allies—only a group of people who loved game development.
As long as they loved video games, Gamestar Electronic Entertainment's classes would teach them and pass on the very best game development knowledge.
The video game industry flourished precisely because of Gamestar Electronic Entertainment's open sharing.
With only a single company, video games could never truly rise.
Monopolies never last long—they are inevitably discarded by the tide of history.
Within Micfo, there were quite a few outstanding students from those development courses.
They applied everything they had learned wholeheartedly to game development, allowing Micfo to secure a foothold in the industry.
They, too, had ambition. They wanted better results and hoped more players would enjoy their games.
But freely sharing knowledge was one thing—commercial competition was another entirely.
When it came to dealing with Micfo, Gamestar Electronic Entertainment never held back.
Whether in Micfo's strong areas—smartphones and operating systems—or in Gamestar Electronic Entertainment's own specialty of game development, Micfo was deliberately targeted.
There was no other reason—Takayuki simply didn't want Myron Kess to dominate the market alone.
He had seen the stagnation of Apple in the future, and this world should never give birth to such a company again.
Survive through competition. Grow through competition. That was better.
It was just that Gamestar Electronic Entertainment's targeting might have been a bit… ruthless.
Like this time.
Micfo had worked tirelessly to develop and release several solid games.
Yet almost as soon as their games launched, The Binding of Isaac was released as well.
No—this wasn't a Gamestar Electronic Entertainment game.
It was Takayuki's personal game.
And this was an indie game!
What was an indie game supposed to be? Something with small-scale investment and small-scale returns.
Yet Takayuki had turned it into a massive blockbuster.
Over the past month,
Micfo had estimated that at least one of their games would break one million in sales.
But so far, their best-performing title was a football game, selling seven hundred thousand copies in the domestic market.
And that was only because Gamestar Electronic Entertainment currently had no plans to develop a football game. If they did, Micfo's football game would likely flop as well.
Including Micfo's game development team—and even Myron Kess himself—everyone found this baffling.
How could an indie game impact the release of large-scale games?
Was it just because "Takayuki personally made it" as a selling point?
Everyone knew that couldn't be the whole reason.
If a game wasn't fun, whether or not you were the God of Games didn't matter much.
The title of God of Games might attract attention at first, but if the game wasn't enjoyable, it would inevitably lose momentum.
Indie games were supposed to be fleeting pleasures—something players spent a few hours on and then moved on from.
But now?
Reality had completely failed to follow expectations.
The Binding of Isaac had stormed through the market, completely disrupting Micfo's release schedule.
Micfo worked hard on promotion and finally gained some attention—only to have the comment sections under their ads completely overwhelmed.
"Hey, let me tell you, this formulaic big-budget game is boring. Go play The Binding of Isaac—that's a truly small-but-beautiful game, and it's absolutely worth the money."
"What? You still haven't played The Binding of Isaac? Sorry, I don't allow anyone not to have played it. You really should try it—it's only twenty dollars. You won't lose out. And it's made personally by the God of Games! Every line of code and every character was designed by him—that's sincerity, isn't it?"
Just as everyone was starting to feel disheartened, Myron Kess arrived at the game development department.
He showed no gloom or frustration at all.
If anything, he seemed calmer than ever.
"Everyone, I know you've worked very hard. But sometimes effort alone isn't enough. There are always uncontrollable factors that affect how things turn out."
"We've suffered an unexpected blow this time, but rest assured—I won't blame any of you. What I want now is for you to pull yourselves together. And if possible, I hope you can come up with a solution—at least a way for us not to lose quite so badly."
The developers looked at one another, all feeling a bit ashamed.
The department head watched from the side.
This, perhaps, was Myron Kess's unique ability to command his subordinates.
He truly had talent in this regard.
"Boss, right now we have one—and only one—option. It's the only way to slightly recover from this downturn."
"Go on."
"We cut prices. We drop our game prices to twenty dollars as well and face The Binding of Isaac head-on."
"A high-quality game with flashy visuals and large-scale production, sold at the price of an indie game—that should be a strong hook. Anyway… it probably can't get worse than slashing prices."
The person who made this suggestion was the department head himself.
"Then let's do it," Myron Kess said. "Everyone, keep it up. I hope to see your performance again in the future. Losing once, twice—even many times—is nothing to be ashamed of."
"We only need to win once."