Meng Shu sat in his chair and closed his eyes.
His attribute panel appeared once again.
Planning: 60 (Average)
Programming: 60 (Average)
Art: 60 (Average)
Music: 60 (Average)
Total Fear Points: 500
Seeing this panel, Meng Shu pondered for a moment, then furrowed his brow.
Attributes. No change?
Fear Points. Not a single increase?
Why? Was it because this was a trial Demo? Or because what the system gifted didn't count?
Meng Shu thought it over and formed a rough guess in his mind.
"Could it be that since it's not a full version of the game, even if it scares players, it won't increase Fear Points?"
As soon as this idea surfaced, his mind readily accepted it.
Otherwise, there was no explaining why scaring players in the game Demo didn't add Fear Points.
After arriving at this conclusion, Meng Shu couldn't help but sigh.
The mainstream games in this world were shooters, racing, and sports.
He had originally planned to use the live demo of Dark Forest to farm some Fear Points, then purchase the development method for Titanfall 2 from his original world. With its included promotional CG and live demo footage, he'd attract investment, use that to found a company, hire people, develop games, and reach the peak of his career.
He believed that in this parallel world where all FPS games were modern warfare, no man could resist the charm of piloting a mech in combat.
So he was confident that once the trailer dropped, investment would come knocking.
But reality was too naive.
The system was the system, directly cutting off this shortcut and forcing him to buckle down and develop the full version of Dark Forest.
"Forget it, step by step, I'll just do it steadily."
Meng Shu's hands touched the keyboard.
Half a month passed in the blink of an eye.
During this time, he sat at his computer every day developing this horror game.
With the help of the system's engine, progress was swift. He quickly finished developing Chapter 1, and it passed testing without a hitch!
He even managed to make the side quest completion methods better and more polished than the original!
After that, he pushed Chapter 2, the Swamp, to 20% completion.
The finished product was just around the corner!
And during this period, the demo video he released experienced two surges in popularity.
The first came from a creator named Zai Zong, who made a video personally experiencing the game with a tenor scream, bringing endless entertainment to viewers and a huge wave of attention to Dark Forest.
The second was when it made it onto the Danmu Network's Weekly Must-Watch, tagged with 'Redefining Horror Games,' which was essentially a site recommendation.
Thus, another massive wave of attention hit, drawing countless people to click and watch. This sent all his video metrics skyrocketing, with views reaching an astonishing 10.91 million!
Also rising were the explosive numbers for coins, likes, and donations. All together, Meng Shu could directly withdraw nearly 30,000 yuan from the backend!
And that was just the revenue from one video!
Through these two events, the fame of Dark Forest was thoroughly established.
Now, every player in the community knew there was an independently developed domestic horror game called Dark Forest. While amazed at the developer's audacity, they were also eagerly anticipating its release.
Even people outside the community had heard about it, more or less.
A live demo plus a trial Demo—something you could both watch and experience yourself. This promotional combo was far more practical than those big studios that just dropped a trailer, created a new folder, and said 'we're working on it, we're working on it!'
As a result, discussions around Dark Forest grew broader and broader.
Companies began reaching out to him with olive branches, but he ignored and rejected them all.
Amid this heat, he finally got his first investor.
Iron Horse Capital!
This was a firm specializing in investments, primarily putting in money and taking a cut of the profits.
They were willing to offer one million yuan to help with development.
At first, Meng Shu was thrilled.
Finally, heaven rewards the diligent—his efforts hadn't been in vain.
But soon, he started to worry.
Because he wasn't a corporate entity. He had no corporate account to receive payments, no company seal to sign contracts, no business license to confirm profitability, and no tax qualifications to guarantee compliance.
He was a natural person with nothing to his name; even if someone was willing to invest, he couldn't accept it.
If he forced the acceptance, it would be considered a loan, accruing interest, which ran counter to the very concept of investment.
[Mr. Meng, considering your situation, we may not be able to proceed with the investment.]
Looking at the message on his phone's WeChat, Meng Shu furrowed his brow.
Actually, securing this investment wasn't hard—just registering a company would do it. The trouble was running through the bureaucratic process.
Of course, he could spend some money to hire a proxy registration company to handle everything; he'd only need to visit the bank himself to open a corporate account and get the U-shield.
Everything else—getting the business license and seal from the industry and commerce bureau, signing agreements and obtaining invoices from the tax bureau—could be handled by the proxy company.
Once the company was officially operational, he could accept the investment.
Then he could hire people, develop other games, and his entrepreneurial path would fall into place naturally.
Regardless, starting a company was essential. Game publishing, release, filing, and obtaining a license number all required a company.
No matter how powerful the system was, it only shone in game development.
The rest still depended on him.
Meng Shu planned this in his mind, then replied on WeChat.
[I understand. If possible, I'd like to stay in touch with your company. Once I have a corporate account, could we discuss the investment again?]
Soon, a reply came.
[Of course, Mr. Meng. But there's one thing you need to understand. As a new company with no revenue, it will be very difficult for your qualifications to pass our risk control system. If we request a manual review, with only one unclear game as the project, the amount may fall short of expectations.]
Seeing this, Meng Shu had no choice but to accept it.
This message actually had two interpretations.
High emotional intelligence: It's very difficult to pass the risk control system.
Low emotional intelligence: It won't pass.
High emotional intelligence: The amount may fall short of expectations.
Low emotional intelligence: The money will be very little.
Indeed, as an investment company, they were taking a risk based on the game's buzz.
Now they found he was a lone commander without even a base—how could they trust he'd turn a profit?
Just based on a game with some buzz? Especially a horror game, where anyone who touched it died. The last stubborn fool's portrait was still hanging.
So it was no wonder they said such things.
Though the words left room for negotiation, it was just a polite formality.
In reality, this investment was basically dead.
At least, it was dead at Dark Forest.
Meng Shu let out a bitter laugh and replied.
[Understood. Thank you for the explanation. I hope we can cooperate again sometime.]
[You're welcome, Mr. Meng.]
He turned off his phone, let out a long sigh, and pondered for a moment.
Then, he steadied himself.
This incident served as a wake-up call.
He needed to get the company registration sorted out first.
After all, with a company, many things would become much more convenient.
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