This update to Infinite World was actually quite simple on the surface.
However, there were also some hidden changes that hadn't been officially announced.
First of all, the game's random world generation system underwent a major overhaul in this new version.
That said, it still hadn't reached the "complete form" envisioned by the developers, so it wasn't explained in this update. Instead, it was quietly preloaded into the game so they could observe player feedback first.
In addition, the game previously had a large number of bugs and exploits.
Because the game's scale was too large, and the team was small—just over a hundred people—and inexperienced at the time, they simply couldn't fix everything.
After receiving help from Gamestar Electronic Entertainment, they made significant progress in bug fixing.
This 1.1 update patched most of the more severe and malicious bugs.
Even if the game still wasn't exceptionally fun, at the very least it could now run normally and be played properly.
The game critic himself didn't quite know how to describe it.
This time, Infinite World didn't seem to add much new content, yet it felt far more comfortable to play.
So the game was actually kind of fun after all? Was it just my mindset back then that caused me to have such a terrible impression of it?
With that thought in mind, he went back and tried Infinite World again on the Mikfo platform.
And then he realized his original impression had been completely correct.
Even now, Mikfo's version of Infinite World was still the same old thing. Over on Battle.net, the update had been live for more than a day, yet Mikfo's version was still lagging behind.
Judging from the announcement, it clearly wasn't the Infinite World dev team deliberately withholding updates from their former owner.
After all, the store page—cover art and promotional images—had already been updated, so uploading the new version shouldn't have been a problem.
The real issue was simply that Mikfo's platform experience was terrible. Even when given a chance, they wasted it. No wonder they could never beat Gamestar Electronic Entertainment—it was entirely their own fault.
After that, he returned once again to Infinite World on Battle.net.
Compared to before, the building mode was far more interesting. This time, instead of constantly hopping between empty worlds, he settled down in a single world and focused on large-scale construction and infrastructure. Without realizing it, hours slipped by.
Farming-and-building games were always like this—absolute time killers that made time feel like it was flying.
At the same time, inside Gamestar Electronic Entertainment, the Infinite World development team and producers were celebrating.
On the very day the new version launched, thanks to discounts and Battle.net's promotion, Infinite World achieved a strong opening.
Sales exceeded 100,000 copies on day one.
They had originally lost all hope, thinking that even a few tens of thousands of copies would be enough.
They never expected sales to be this much better than anticipated.
A little over one hundred thousand copies might not sound impressive, especially during a discount period—at $7.5 per copy, that was only about $750,000 in revenue, hardly a huge return for game development.
But that was just one day.
"This is amazing, producer! We've finally achieved something! Sales after this won't be bad—maybe we can even hit 500,000 copies during this promotion. That would be a huge success, and we could finally report back to the boss!"
The producer was also excited, but as a manager, he quickly calmed down.
"No. We can't relax yet," he said. "Sales have exceeded expectations, but they still don't match the money required for long-term maintenance and recovery. We spent over three million dollars just to give Infinite World a new look."
Everyone nodded.
That was true—this wasn't the time to celebrate yet.
"Then what should we do, producer?"
After thinking for a moment, the producer said, "Honestly, this situation reminds me of something the boss once told me. Game quality is important, but promotion is just as important. Fine wine isn't afraid of being hidden in a deep alley—but that doesn't matter if someone dumps cheap, bad liquor right at the alley entrance so no one can smell the good wine inside."
"Wine? What does that have to do with our game?" Everyone looked confused.
"It's just a metaphor. A classic saying from the Eastern superpower. Our boss likes using expressions like this."
"So… we're going to step up promotion?"
The producer nodded firmly. "Exactly. And we're going to increase it."
"But we don't have much money. Gamestar Electronic Entertainment approved very little budget for marketing."
The producer said confidently, "Don't worry. I've already thought this through, and I know exactly what to do."
"How?"
The team exchanged looks.
This idea wasn't originally his—it came from Takayuki's guidance.
"Video games don't necessarily need massive advertising budgets, especially mid-sized or smaller games. Not everyone likes smaller-scale productions, and blockbusters don't always come from heavy capital marketing. I suggest you take the livestreaming route."
The producer took a deep breath and said, "We're going to do livestreams."
"Livestreams?"
"Yes. Livestreaming. Online streaming is booming right now, with huge viewership numbers. We can invite streamers to play our game at relatively low cost. At the same time, we can create an official livestream account and stream the game ourselves."
"And I also thought of working with Facebook to launch a creative submission event. Using Infinite World as a base, let people freely create content. The winners get decent rewards."
This was a low-cost, high-efficiency promotional strategy.
Years ago, Takayuki had used livestreaming to promote games like Titanfall, drawing players in through exciting broadcast moments and convincing them to buy and try the games themselves.
This was very different from traditional film or TV.
Movies and shows couldn't be freely streamed due to strict copyright control, and watching them on livestreams was essentially spoilers—many people found that boring.
Video games, on the other hand, were perfect for livestreaming. Developers even encouraged players to stream their games to increase exposure.
With the growth of the internet, streamers' incomes were rising, but they hadn't yet reached the level of top-tier influencers from Takayuki's past life. Most still had limited bargaining power, making this an excellent low-cost marketing opportunity.
The Infinite World team didn't hesitate. Everyone sprang into action—searching for streamers, registering Facebook livestream accounts, and preparing equipment for real-time interaction with players.
A few days later, the livestream plan officially launched. The entire team mobilized, doing everything they could to increase the game's visibility.
They especially emphasized Infinite World's long struggle and comeback story, aiming to stir sympathy and goodwill.
The game critic was one of the self-media creators contacted by the official team. When asked to share his thoughts, he agreed immediately.
On one hand, the game had genuinely started to move him. On the other, he felt an urge to help promote it.
His response was fast.
Not long after being invited, he posted a four-star rating in the review system.
That rating stood out sharply among Infinite World's reviews.
According to real-time data, most players who had marked the game as played were still overwhelmingly negative. Many had been deeply hurt and no longer trusted game preorders.
One-third of reviewers had given it half a star.
The overall rating was still "Overwhelmingly Negative."
So far, no other game on Battle.net had received such a label.
Infinite World became the platform's first game with "Overwhelmingly Negative" status—reviewed by over ten thousand players. Even the dev team found it embarrassing.
The pressure was immense.
That's why seeing even a small number of high-star reviews appear made them incredibly happy.
The critic wrote:
"Infinite World is a game that's been out for some time. I have to say upfront: before version 1.0, it was terrible. It barely qualified as a game.
But a game doesn't have to stay bad forever. Games can be redeemed. I bought this new version mostly to watch the train wreck—especially since I already owned all the popular titles and didn't need to spend more money.
To my surprise, the game I once harshly criticized turned out to be genuinely fun.
In this new Infinite World, your options are still limited. You either clear the main story, wander aimlessly, or quit because every world feels dull.
But this time it's different. The new sandbox building feature finally gives the game real fun. I'm starting to hope this game can truly improve. I'm willing to spend more money to support the dev team so they can keep updating.
The foundation of this game is solid—it was just ruined by a terrible initial experience. Given time, I believe it can still shine."
After just one or two days, the critic had already grown somewhat addicted.
As a farming-and-building enthusiast, his quick turnaround wasn't surprising.
Other well-known critics, however, were far more cautious.
They offered restrained praise for the update but didn't say much more, protecting their reputations.
At present, Infinite World was still only "barely playable," far from being a masterpiece.
But after joining Gamestar Electronic Entertainment and seeing this update, it finally felt like a game with potential.
The team didn't stop there.
The producer still remembered Takayuki's earnest advice—this was no time to relax. He needed to further amplify the game's advantages.
So he directed the team to spend the remaining budget on sponsored articles.
It didn't sound great, but results mattered. Right now, only sales numbers and player feedback could prove their worth.
If the "good wine" was really being drowned out by bad liquor at the alley entrance, that would be a true loss.
This time, they hadn't messed up again—they had made real improvements, worth bragging about.
Over the next few days, sponsored posts began flooding forums. More drastically, the team temporarily halted follow-up development and threw themselves into writing promotional content and managing online buzz.
Infinite World was their only chance.
If they missed it, Gamestar Electronic Entertainment wouldn't keep them around out of kindness.
Even if their methods seemed a bit ruthless.
In today's internet age, this was completely normal.
Even before the internet, during the era of television and newspapers, similar practices were everywhere.
Sponsored content had a long history.
Perhaps because their efforts were effective, even after Christmas passed and people began returning to work and daily life, Infinite World's sales showed little decline—maintaining 150,000 to 200,000 copies per day.
When the first one million sales milestone arrived after the 1.1 update, the entire dev team nearly tore their workspace apart with celebration, baffling nearby departments who couldn't understand why they were so happy.
Those who hadn't hit rock bottom could never truly understand the pain this team had endured.
They had been cursed at, abused, cyberbullied—some incidents even escalated into real-world threats. Knives and weapons had been mailed to their office, along with notes threatening to kill them.
After surviving all of that, they cherished this hard-won success more than anything.