082. The Naive Dream
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If it had been the old Lin Nan, he definitely wouldn’t have happily rushed to help a shut-in just for some money.
But recent events had lowered his standards quite a bit. He had already experienced walking outside in women’s clothing—something that made him shudder with shame—so nothing seemed too scary anymore.
After all, it was all about the money, right?
Chen Jiang rambled on for ages, and while Lin Nan could understand a few words at the beginning, it was game code that completely scrambled his brain.
“Wait a sec!” Chen Jiang exclaimed excitedly, jumping up and darting to his bedroom.
Lin Nan had expected to be ignored in the living room, but to his surprise, after just ten minutes, Chen Jiang burst into the room, now clad in short sleeves and shorts, peeking his head out to shout, “Come to my room!”
“Coming, coming!”
Clearly, the topic of games had hit the mark—Chen Jiang seemed to have dropped his guard.
Lin Nan trotted into his bedroom, but then froze at the doorway.
Was it really okay for just two guys to be alone in one room?
Nah, too lazy to think that deeply.
He walked in and discovered that Chen Jiang’s room wasn’t the chaotic mess he’d pictured. Instead, it was almost spotless; he could hardly see any trash or clothes. Even the bedspread was neatly folded. However, the bedside table was cluttered with plush toys, making it look like the room belonged to a girl.
And surprisingly, there weren’t any oversized embarrassing pillows in sight. Maybe he’d hidden them away in those ten short minutes.
Chen Jiang seemed to have been holding back for too long. When he spotted Lin Nan, his face lit up with a hint of excitement as he sat at the computer, gesturing to the screen. “This is the result of my three years of hermit life!”
“Hmm?” Lin Nan leaned closer to check it out.
Chen Jiang shifted to let him take a seat, looking like a kid holding a report card, anxiously awaiting praise from his parents.
“So, this is the game?” Honestly, Lin Nan wasn’t a big game expert but had played enough to recognize the basics. He casually clicked the start button and found it to be a text-based game that didn’t pique his interest at all. Compared to other text games, this one was, well, rather rough around the edges.
Lin Nan looked up and asked, “A dating text game?”
“It’s a mystery game! I based it on Danganronpa!”
What on earth was Danganronpa?
Feeling a little lost, Lin Nan continued to gaze at the screen, watching as crude illustrations and text set the stage. Then a simple character appeared in what seemed like an apartment, and he realized he could control this character around the space.
“You spent three years on this? All by yourself?”
Even though he didn’t know much about game development, Lin Nan still looked genuinely impressed. “You really did all this? The opening art and the scenes—just you?”
“Yep! Illustrations, code, models—all me!” Chen Jiang chirped, eyes sparkling. “Whenever I hit a wall, I searched for tutorials. I wouldn’t have taken three years otherwise. See this scene? I made it in 3DMAX! Before this, I had no idea how to create models… And the code? Check that corner, I bought books for all this…”
“My game is already up for Steam’s closed beta! Once I earn some money, I’ll hire professional artists and modelers to revamp it. When it finally launches, it’s gonna be huge!”
The game was rough, and Lin Nan didn’t understand his explanations, but he still found Chen Jiang’s determination commendable.
What kind of spirit does it take to stick to something for three years, not stepping outside, just to make a game?
“That’s great! How many copies have you sold?”
At this, Chen Jiang’s expression darkened immediately. “In a few months, I’ve sold about a dozen copies, making a little over a hundred bucks.”
“I heard from an uncle that you play games all day, so I thought you were totally goofing off…” Lin Nan couldn’t help but view this shut-in with newfound respect. If he channeled that grit into a job, he’d be living the good life by now.
“They don’t understand computers and think if I’m sitting in front of one, I’m just playing games. If only my game would blow up…” Chen Jiang sighed, shaking his head. “Anyway, I’m thinking about getting a job soon. This game was just a way to let loose while I’m still young.”
Lin Nan looked at the dejected expression on Chen Jiang’s face and encouraged, “Working at a game company could be a good stepping stone, right?”
“Who would want someone who made such a lousy game?”
Chen Jiang plopped onto the bed, sighing dramatically.
“You’ve got to give it a shot! If you can’t get into a big company, aim for a smaller one. If not that, then at least try a game studio. You created a game on your own—that’s gotta count for something, right?”
“Being a jack-of-all-trades just means I’m a master of none.” He seemed really down.
Honestly, Lin Nan found Chen Jiang’s pursuit of his dream quite inspiring, but reality was a tough pill to swallow.
He hadn’t kept up with single-player games, but his roommates sure had. Rumor had it that last year’s hit game, Taiwu’s Painting, was made by a handful of people working from home; they raked it in and got rich while his roommates each contributed a little bit.
Then there was the recent Nezha movie, where the director, Dumpling, spent three years making short animated clips that garnered attention, eventually leading to Nezha’s success.
But those were exceptions. Luck and talent both had to be there, and Chen Jiang had neither. He charged headfirst with his parents’ disapproval and a heart full of passion, naturally smashing his head against the wall.
Fortunately, Chen Jiang was still young. Compared to those who failed startups and lost hundreds of thousands, he had only wasted three years.
“How about we go out for a bit?” Lin Nan cautiously suggested, trying to lift his spirits. “Your game is actually fun; it just needs some polish. If you could land a job at a game company, you could build the skills you need and come back better in a few years with some help and redo your game. That sounds good, right?”
This was Lin Nan’s first encounter with such a situation. Spiritually, he fully supported Chen Jiang, but rationally, he could see how immature this dream was.
Chen Jiang stood up, disheartened, and sighed, “I was actually planning to stop being a hermit, but then I heard you were coming to play matchmaker…”
Who said anything about matchmaking!
Lin Nan quickly grasped what he meant.
Someone who had holed up for too long often had social awkwardness. Although Chen Jiang didn’t show it in his conversation with Lin Nan, it was clear he had some trepidation about going out. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be waiting for Lin Nan to come along before stepping out.
“So, is this a date now?” Chen Jiang’s face turned red.
A classic shut-in problem: once pulled out of their comfort zone, they forget how to interact with girls.
“Just to be clear, I’m a guy.” Lin Nan thought they might run into problems if he didn’t clear this misunderstanding up quickly. “The uncle just thought you’ve been cooped up for too long and wanted to drag you out.”
Chen Jiang froze, feeling as if his fragile little heart had been shattered into pieces.
What happened to the matchmaking?
“I think since we’re already out, how about you find any job to get out there, and we can figure things out as we go?”
“Uh, okay?”
