Why the bug I wrote became a core gameplay mechanic?!
Chapter 255 - 264: What to Do About the Version Update?

Chapter 255: Chapter 264: What to Do About the Version Update?

Just then, Zhou Yang raised his hand and asked tentatively, "President Li, I have a small question."

At that moment, Lilith was still in a good mood and she nodded generously, "Feel free to ask!"

Zhou Yang said, "If we make an MMORPG... how would we handle version updates afterwards?"

The moment he posed this question, everyone was taken aback, then they realized, yes, how would version updates be handled?

This truly hit the nail on the head regarding Nitiandang’s Achilles’ heel!

All the games Nitiandang had released before, and mind you, every single one of them, had never gone through any subsequent updates!

Forget about version updates, there hadn’t even been bug fix patches.

Their policy was one of maintaining the game’s original flavor; whatever form the game took upon launch, it remained unchanged thereafter. As for subsequent modifications? That was an absolute impossibility.

It was to the extent that some players couldn’t handle it and started creating mods for the games themselves.

Without these mods, the lifespan of certain games would probably have been even shorter.

But for an MMORPG, surely you can’t just not update the game, right?

Because this genre often encompasses a vast array of content with complex mechanics, it’s prone to all sorts of strange bugs and exploits used by players.

If some serious bugs were to occur, such as studios farming gold, exploiting bugs to kill bosses, or exploiting battlegrounds, they would need to be fixed urgently.

Even if Nitiandang’s technical prowess ensured no severe bugs materialized, they couldn’t neglect updates.

Because MMORPGs are an entirely different breed from single-player games.

With single-player games, players can feel they’ve gotten their money’s worth after a few hours, and the current number of players online has no bearing whatsoever on other players’ gaming experience.

However, MMORPGs are different; they rely on long-term operations for profit.

The main appeal of these games is the interaction between players, whether it’s the in-game economic system or the high-end PvE raid gameplay, which all require a massive player base.

Once the game stops updating, it means that players will quickly lose interest and leave after having experienced the current content.

And the continued loss of players would trigger a series of chain reactions, worsening the gaming experience for others and causing further attrition.

This cycle would lead to a drastic decline in the game’s active population, quickly turning it into a "ghost server."

Therefore, from Zhou Yang’s perspective, MMORPGs fundamentally clashed with Nitiandang’s policy; it simply wasn’t feasible!

Wei Chengjie, however, seemed indifferent, "Ah, this isn’t a big deal, right? We never updated our games before simply because they didn’t need updates. Now that we’re making an MMORPG, it shouldn’t be a big deal to update it occasionally, right?"

Yet Lilith’s face was set in a serious expression, "That won’t do, we absolutely must not update!"

Wei Chengjie was taken aback, "Huh?"

He glanced at Zhou Yang, only to witness an expression that screamed "You really don’t get it" plastered all over Zhou Yang’s face.

Clearly, as someone who joined Nitiandang later, Wei Chengjie was not yet fully aware of some of the deeper rules within Nitiandang’s game development culture.

He couldn’t comprehend or accept why Nitiandang held the "no updates after game release" stance in such high regard.

"But President Li, if we stick to this point, we simply can’t make MMORPG games at all!"

Wei Chengjie was bewildered, previously assuming that the millions invested in development were likely to incur a loss, but now realizing it was a surefire 100% loss...

A game that was already subpar and couldn’t be updated?

That was like being unemployed and preparing for the civil service exam; while others could try from age 22 to 35, you only had one chance. The probability of success was just too low!

Lilith was unconcerned, "Oh, it doesn’t matter.

"We just go ahead and launch the game, whether players leave or not, that would be a matter for months, or even a year from now. There’s no need to worry too much."

Obviously, Lilith’s solution was to bury her head in the sand like an ostrich, pretending the problem didn’t exist!

In fact, her approach had some merit.

First off, MMORPGs are substantial in size, even the current version of Demon World Conflict is enough to keep players engaged for months on end.

After all, games of this nature typically have raid lockouts, with each raid instance only able to be completed once a week, and each session offering a limited quantity of equipment. The drop rates for some scarce items are low, and there’s strong competition for them.

Even if players were to organize weekly static groups for raids like clockwork, it would take a long time for everyone to collect all the max-level equipment they desire.

Moreover, new players keep joining.

Calculating it this way, the game can keep players entertained for a year.

For Lilith, if this multi-million investment could successfully harvest negative emotions for a year, it was already sufficient. She wasn’t overly concerned with so-called long-term operations – in fact, that represented a rather risky signal.

Because if the game didn’t decline in the long run, it meant that players were gathering too much positive emotion from it. The happier they were playing indefinitely, the more it troubled Lilith.

Secondly, the decline in gaming experience due to player attrition was itself part of harvesting negative emotions.

Everyone was utterly speechless, their gaze toward Gu Fan.

The unspoken message was, "President Gu, do something! This goofy investor is shooting for the moon!"

True, it was the company’s money being wasted, but the issue was that everyone’s bonus was directly tied to the game’s subsequent earnings. No one wanted to bust their hump for months on end, only to wind up with no bonus and become the laughing stock of gamers and peers alike.

Gu Fan cleared his throat and spoke, "I think that President Li’s idea isn’t without merit—it’s one solution.

"When making a game, it’s all about choosing what to keep and what to discard.

"And in choosing, the most important thing is to determine priorities.

"As long as you can figure out what it is you really want, everything else can be confidently discarded.

"Since President Li believes that ’no subsequent updates for the game’ is important, then sacrificing some other gaming experience for this is correct."

Lilith hadn’t expected Gu Fan to stand so firmly by her side, and she felt a little touched.

But Gu Fan clearly wasn’t finished.

"However... I think there’s still some room for maneuver on this matter.

"We can continuously provide players with new gaming experiences without violating the principle of ’no subsequent updates for the game.’

Upon hearing this, everyone was stunned.

Zhou Yang asked in disbelief, "Huh? President Gu, how exactly do we do that? Use mods?

"But modding on that scale, expecting hobbyists to do it is definitely impossible.

"If we were to create them ourselves, wouldn’t that just be fooling ourselves?"

Gu Fan shook his head slightly, "Of course not mods.

"What I mean is that we can release a new version every year. This new version would be developed based upon the foundations of the previous version—for example, if the previous max level for players was 60, in the new version it could be 70.

"Most of the original content would be retained, but we’d also make some adjustments according to the new version’s features.

"The only difference is that this new version wouldn’t overwrite the old one, but rather... it would be released as a separate game.

"Players could use their existing game accounts when playing this new version or, put another way, new game.

"However, content obtained in the new version couldn’t be carried back into the old one."

Upon hearing this, everyone was startled again.

Huh?

Is that really possible?

Zhou Yang felt his CPU overheating; he truly hadn’t considered this approach before.

On closer thought, it seemed quite viable.

Indeed, this wouldn’t involve updating the original game at all, just creating a new game that would utilize the content of the old one!

And if one really thought about it, this approach had its advantages.

For instance, it would preserve the original version in all its glory, allowing players who wanted nostalgia to return at any time.

And if, say, the original game had some unique mechanisms that clashed with the new version’s gameplay, there would be no need for alterations, allowing it to remain intact.

Could this actually be a solution that satisfies both needs?

Lilith thought for a moment, "Hmm? That could actually work!"

Clearly, Gu Fan’s suggestion wouldn’t affect her collection of negative emotions.

If the original game remained unchanged, the contract would remain the same, and she could still collect the required negative emotions.

Furthermore, this approach might even have a positive impact on the collection of negative emotions.

With each new version, she could introduce more challenging elements to torment the players, which might extend the duration of their distress and generate even more negative emotions for her.

"So... President Li, you will decide the themes for each version," Gu Fan suggested.

Lilith thought for a moment and agreed, "Alright!

"Then let’s start with three versions.

"The first version will have a max level of 60, with the main enemies being the Giant Dragon, to be called Dragon Era;

"The second version will have a max level of 70, with demons as the main enemies, to be called Demon Era;

"The third version will have a max level of 80, with angels as the main enemies, to be called Angel Era!

"Let’s tentatively go with these. By the time all three versions are out, the game will probably have been in operation for three years—that should suffice!"