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Making Game: CH 15 – A Creator's Rest
🕑 Added 2025-09-22 04:44:38 +0000 UTCMarcus was practically vibrating with excitement, jumping up and down on the stool. Dorian could see Lyra out of the corner of his eye, trying to look cool and disinterested, but the way she leaned forward, her eyes glued to the screen, betrayed her true feelings.
"Go ahead, Marcus," she said with a practiced air of indifference. "I am not that interested in games, anyway."
Dorian smiled. "Okay, we will take turns, alright?" He guided Marcus's small hand to the controls.
"Which battle did you make the game about, brother?" Marcus asked, his eyes wide. "Is it the Siege of Xylos? Or a Nullbreaker mission?"
Dorian froze for a split second. Of course. The games in this world were all about Solars, about combat, about war. A thought flashed through his mind: should he change the premise? Rebrand it as a "Solar Farmer" game to make it more familiar? He pushed the idea to the back of his mind. No. He had to trust his gut.
"It is not that kind of game," he said gently.
He guided Marcus to launch the application. A simple, pixelated logo appeared on the screen: a sword stuck in a stone, encircled by a round table. Underneath it, the words Round Table Studios. Then, the title dropped down in cheerful, leafy green letters.
"Stardew... Valley?" Lyra and Marcus said in confused unison.
"Yeah," Dorian said. "Go ahead. Try making your character."
Marcus clicked start. A character customization screen appeared. "Okay," Dorian explained, "now you choose what kind of planet you want your farm to be on."
"Farm?" Marcus asked, his head tilting.
"Is this game about... farming?" Lyra asked, her voice a mixture of disbelief and intrigue.
"Yeah," Dorian said slowly. "What?"
Lyra's eyes narrowed, a flash of recognition in them. "Is this because of that channel you always watch? That guy on Obelia II?"
"Look!" Marcus shouted, pointing at the screen. "There is an Obelia II option!"
Dorian held up his hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay, you guys got me. I really like that channel." Lyra and Marcus giggled, the shared secret breaking the tension. Marcus, of course, chose Obelia II.
The screen shifted to the character customization menu. Marcus began to fiddle with the options, his eyes wide at the array of choices.
"Can you only play as a human?" Lyra asked, her analytical mind kicking in.
"Oh, yeah," Dorian said, improvising on the spot. "The game is set ten thousand years ago, when we humans could not go anywhere but around our own world."
"Why not wait for the Accord to come and build them starliners?" Marcus asked, his logic simple and direct.
"Well, in my game, the Accord has not been invented yet," Dorian replied.
"Whoa," Lyra breathed. "So they were stuck on their own planet, huh?"
Dorian smiled, seeing the hook sink in. "That is right."
A moment later, Marcus announced, "Done! Hehe."
Dorian looked at the screen. The character was a monstrosity. It had garish purple hair, clothes that clashed horribly, and a name that was just a random string of consonants. Dorian laughed. Marcus was the type of player who would always make a silly character for himself. He could see Lyra practically itching to get her hands on the controls and design something proper.
"Okay, Marcus," Dorian said, patting his brother's back. "Press play. Let your sister see the game."
The screen turned to black. A simple, melodic tune began to play, a song filled with a sense of nostalgia for a past that was not theirs, and a longing for a future they could not yet see. The screen faded in on an old, pixelated man lying in a bed. He held out an envelope to the screen, to the player.
"To my very special grandson," the old man's voice, warm and raspy, came through the speakers. "I want you to have this sealed envelope."
"Is he dying?" Marcus asked, his voice a hushed whisper.
"Brother!" Lyra exclaimed, scandalized. "You start your game with a death?"
As Marcus clicked the on-screen prompt, the grandpa in the game spoke again. "No, no, do not open it yet... have patience."
Dorian watched his siblings. Their initial confusion was gone, replaced by a quiet, rapt attention. They were being sucked into the simple narrative.
"Now, listen close," the grandpa continued, his pixelated face kind. "There will come a day when you feel crushed by the burden of life... and your bright spirit will fade before a growing emptiness."
For the first time since he had sat down, Marcus was completely still, his eyes wide.
"When that happens, my dear, you will be ready for this gift... now let grandpa rest..."
The screen faded to black again. The words XX Years Later... appeared in the center.
The next scene was a jarring contrast. Rows upon rows of identical grey cubicles stretched into the distance under a harsh, sterile light. On the wall, a single word glowed in a cold, blue light: WORK. Beside it, an unlit sign read REST. There was no music, only the monotonous, soul-crushing sound of a hundred keyboards clicking in unison.
"It is like one of those offices in the high level," Lyra murmured, a hint of awe and horror in her voice.
The camera panned across the soulless drones working in their cubicles, all with bent postures and empty eyes. Then, it settled on one character. The one with the garish purple hair and mismatched clothes.
Marcus let out a short, happy giggle, delighted to see his monstrous creation in this depressing world.
The view zoomed in on the character. He looked down at his desk, then pulled a worn, old envelope from his drawer. The letter appeared on the screen:
Dear Gblnkrtz,
If you are reading this, you must be in dire need of a change.
The same thing happened to me, long ago. I'd lost sight of what mattered most in life... real connections with other people and nature. So I dropped everything and moved to the place I truly belong.
I have enclosed the deed to that place... my pride and joy: Peepee Farm. It is located in Stardew Valley, on the southern coast. It is the perfect place to start your new life.
This was my most precious gift of all, and now it's yours. I know you'll honor the family name, my dear. Good luck.
Love, Grandpa
P.S. If Lewis is still alive, say hi to the old guy for me, will ya?
Dorian watched them, a small, satisfied smile on his face. They were completely and utterly sucked into the game, their bodies leaning forward, their eyes wide with the promise of a new adventure. He slowly, quietly, took a step back. They did not even notice. He slipped out of the room, leaving his two new beta testers to their work, and went to prepare dinner.
In the kitchen, Leo floated silently beside Dorian as he began to prepare the ingredients for dinner.
"Dorian," the Compadre said, its voice neutral. "Where are Marcus and Lyra?"
"Shhh," Dorian replied, a wide, secretive grin on his face as he chopped vegetables. "Let them play."
"They already play games on their heliopads every night," Leo pointed out, its logic impeccable. "Why add more to that?"
Dorian paused, the knife still in his hand. He looked at Leo, his eyes sparkling with a fire the Compadre had never seen before. "Let them," he said, his voice a low, excited whisper. "Let them play a real game for the first time. Hehehehehe."
"You are laughing like a villain," Leo stated flatly.
Dorian's grin only widened. "Come on, help me with dinner."
"What do we make this time?"
"Let's do something lavish, shall we?" Dorian said, his good mood infectious. "Let's do fried noodles."
With Leo's help, the prep work was done in minutes. Time passed, and soon the apartment was filled with the delicious aroma of their special meal. Dorian walked back to his room and opened the door.
He saw Lyra leaning over Marcus's shoulder, her finger pointing at the screen. "No, no," she was saying, her voice filled with a serious, strategic intensity. "You see, this one needs five days to grow. You have to water it every day."
Dorian leaned against the doorframe, a wave of pure, unadulterated pride washing over him. "Dinner, ya troublemakers."
They both looked up, their faces flushed with excitement, their eyes still reflecting the soft glow of the monitor. "Can we eat in here?" they asked in unison.
"No," Dorian said firmly, but with a smile. "It is time to eat. Let's eat together."
Marcus and Lyra reluctantly tore themselves away from the screen and hurried to the dinner table. Dorian followed, his heart feeling lighter than it had in months.
As they ate, Lyra looked up from her noodles, a thoughtful expression on her face. "That game," she began, "it will be able to be played on a heliopad, right?"
Dorian paused, considering it. "Hmmm, I do not know," he said honestly. "I think I would need more time to convert the structure for the heliopad's OS."
Then, he looked across the table and saw Leo, who was patiently waiting by its charging dock. He remembered the upgrade. The docking port. The direct, hard-wired connection. He remembered the new, powerful processors.
A slow, predatory grin spread across Dorian's face. "You know what," he said, his voice filled with a newfound confidence. "It can be played on a heliopad."
Lyra and Marcus let out a simultaneous, joyous cheer.
Dorian smiled, his gaze still fixed on Leo. The Compadre's optical sensor flickered, and it seemed to float back a few inches, a strange, uneasy feeling emanating from its spherical form as it registered the look in its master's eyes. It was the look of a boss who had just found a lot more work for his only employee.
…
Hours passed in what felt like minutes. Eventually, Dorian had to shoo his siblings away from the glowing screen.
"Okay, okay," he said, gently guiding them away from the desk. "It is late. Time for bed."
"But I just cleaned up my farm!" Lyra protested, her face a mask of indignation.
"Enough for today," Dorian said firmly. "You will be able to play again for a whole month, starting soon."
"Aawww..." they both groaned in unison. "Hurry up, okay?" Lyra added.
"Alright, now go to bed," Dorian said, a warm smile on his face. "Let me work."
After he tucked them both in, a quiet, focused energy filled him. He walked back to his room and called out, "Leo. Come here and help me."
The Compadre floated silently into the room.
"See that port?" Dorian said, pointing to the new, integrated docking station on his gaming desk. "Connect to it."
Leo descended and settled into the dock with a soft, satisfying click. Its optical sensor flickered for several minutes as it interfaced with the new, powerful hardware. Then, its voice came through the desk's speakers, crisp and clear.
"Connection established. Full system access granted. What can I help you with, Dorian?"
Dorian sat down, a predatory grin on his face. He cracked his knuckles, the sound sharp in the quiet room.
"Let's polish our project, shall we?" he said, and then, he and his new assistant got to work.
…
Time had become a blur, a compressed stream of sleepless nights and caffeine-fueled days. Dorian, with dark, bruised-looking rings around his eyes, stared at the final line of code. It was done.
"Leo," he said, his voice a dry, tired rasp. "Compile the final build. Push it to The Void and the Heliostore."
"Affirmative," Leo's voice came from the desk's speakers. "What should I write for the genre and description of the game?"
"Just use the one that I saved in the asset folder," Dorian replied, already leaning back in his chair, the monumental effort of the last few months finally crashing down on him.
"There is no such file," Leo stated.
Dorian sat up straight, a flicker of annoyance cutting through his exhaustion. "I am sure I already saved it. Check the project file again."
He did not wait for an answer. He pushed himself out of his chair and walked out of his room, leaving Leo to deal with the missing file. He saw Lyra and Marcus sitting on the floor in the living room, their eyes glued to the wall-mounted screen, watching the "Sunday Cartoon" broadcast.
Dorian slumped onto the couch, grabbing a leftover food block from the low table. He took a bite, the tasteless nutrient paste a grim contrast to the vibrant, bountiful world he had just created. He watched the cartoon. It was the same garbage that had been on since he was a kid. The animation was stiff, the morals were on-the-nose, and the plot was always the same: Captain Accord and his plucky Compadre sidekick teaching a lesson about the importance of following rules and reporting suspicious neighbors. It had never evolved.
His Mnemonic Echo flared, not with a specific memory, but with a tidal wave of them. He remembered the anarchic chaos of Looney Tunes, the silent, clever comedy of Tom and Jerry, the epic, sprawling narrative of Avatar: The Last Airbender. He remembered worlds of color, emotion, and creativity that were so far beyond this sterile, propagandistic trash it made him physically ache.
He was half-asleep now, the food block held loosely in his hand. He looked at the soulless, smiling face of Captain Accord on the screen.
"What a shit cartoon," he muttered, his voice thick with sleep and a profound, weary disgust.
And then, he was asleep, slumped over on the couch.
Lyra and Marcus did not even look away from the screen, their faces bathed in the flickering, artificial light. This was their normal. They had never known anything else.
⋘ 𝒍𝒐𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒂.. .⋙
🎮: Stardwey Valley: █████████▒ 98%
🎬: -
♬: - Your Name – Elton John (ch.9)
