61: Chapter 61 Data Tsunami

On the screen, the real-time data dashboard for the sekiro player survey was refreshing at an abnormal speed.

The most critical column, "What do you consider the true difficulty of this game to be?", saw its option distribution chart change drastically over the past two hours.

The bar for "Very Difficult" suddenly shot up from a thin line almost hugging the bottom.

Ye Fei set down his coffee cup and walked over to the monitor screen.

Data does not lie.

Before the Honda incident, the average daily increase for "Very Difficult" was in the single digits.

Most players still stubbornly cast their votes for "Very Easy" or "Easy"; the extent to which they cared about saving face had become pathological.

But tonight, that line suddenly came alive.

He didn't speak, but he couldn't suppress the curve of his lips.

Song Yan was still rambling there: "Brother Fei, at this rate, as long as we have a few more similar incidents, won't the progress just skyrocket? Should we organize a few more challenge tournaments, or…"

"Ninety-two votes—it sounds like a lot, but look at the total number of votes."

Ye Fei scrolled down the data. "sekiro has currently sold over eight million copies worldwide. Among active players, at least two million are stuck in front of various bosses."

"Out of those two million people, only ninety-two have let their guard down."

Song Yan didn't even need to calculate to know how pathetic that ratio was.

"And these ninety-two people, in essence, aren't 'willingly' admitting it's difficult. They've just found a reason that doesn't cause them to lose face."

Ye Fei walked back to his desk and sat down. "Once the heat from the Honda incident fades, this 'stepping stone' will disappear. Future growth will plummet off a cliff."

The ecstasy on Song Yan's face faded, replaced by contemplation.

"Then what do we do? We can't just arrange for a cheater to be publicly executed every week, can we?"

"Of course not."

"That treats the symptoms, not the root cause."

He waved his hand to close the dashboard and turned to his computer.

"You go back and rest first; there are still a bunch of media interviews to handle tomorrow. The heat surrounding the Honda incident is still there, so just stick to the previously decided PR stance."

Song Yan knew his boss needed to be alone to think, so he sensibly stood up.

When he reached the door, he looked back.

Ye Fei had already opened a blank document, the cursor blinking on the screen.

"Brother Fei, don't stay up too late."

The door closed.

The office returned to silence.

The city nightscape outside the window cast mottled light and shadows onto the glass. Ye Fei stared at the blank document, his fingers resting on the keyboard, but he didn't type.

He began to review.

bloodborne, sekiro, hollow knight, and a dance of fire and ice all share a common characteristic: from the promotional period onwards, they wear "hardcore" on their faces.

Players know they will be abused before they buy, and they are mentally prepared.

This means the players' psychological defenses are already built before they enter the game.

"I know it's difficult, I choose to challenge it; it's normal not to beat it, and beating it is something worth bragging about."

This logic allows players to always have an out.

Losing is not shameful, and winning makes one a hero.

Under this framework of expectations, making them admit it's "Super Difficult" is equivalent to making them admit they don't even have the qualifications to challenge it.

No one is willing to admit that.

Ye Fei leaned back into his chair, staring at the ceiling.

The cold air from the air conditioning vent blew over, making his thoughts clearer.

The essence of the problem is not that the game isn't difficult enough.

The problem is that players know it's difficult.

"When they come in with the expectation that 'this game is very difficult', their psychological defenses are already in place."

Ye Fei muttered to himself, his voice very soft, "Losing is not shameful, so naturally, they won't admit it's super difficult."

What about the reverse?

What if the players don't know they will be abused at all?

What if a game looks harmless, even cute enough to make people let down all their guard, and then, in a moment of zero preparation, stabs right through their psychological defenses?

Ye Fei sat up straight.

Without expectations, there is no out.

Without an out, there is no fig leaf.

When players are repeatedly crushed in a game that "looks very simple", they can't even say the words, "I knew it was difficult all along."

Because they truly don't know.

"Trick the players into coming in."

Ye Fei's lips curled up, "Then kill them."

It's not that players don't know it's difficult.

They just don't want me to win.

The more I force them to admit it, the more stubborn they become.

"So I cannot stand opposite them."

Ye Fei closed the forum page, "I want to stand behind them."

Let them not see me.

Let them not know where the blade comes from.

2:17 AM.

Ye Fei closed the document and stood up to stretch his shoulders.

A vague outline had already formed in his mind.

A game with a gentle and harmless appearance.

The visuals are healing, the music is warm; it looks like something for children to play.

Let them come in laughing and go out crying.

And after they finish crying, they won't even be able to find a reason to be stubborn.

Ye Fei turned and walked back to the computer, preparing to shut it down.

His peripheral vision swept over the unread email count—a red number jumping on the mailbox icon—one email.

He clicked open the inbox.

At the very top, an official email from the "Star Blue Game Developer Alliance",

Title: [Invitation to the 3rd Star Blue Independent Game Creative Competition]

Ye Fei clicked on the email, scanned through the long-winded official jargon, and his gaze finally settled on the theme words marked in bold.

Theme of this competition:

"Fairytale World".

Ye Fei looked at these two words.

Then he smiled.