Task Complete

After this news broke, a flood of media reports spread across the internet.

Within the gaming circle, compared to that record, producers were far more focused on the performance of The Stanley Parable.

If the earlier data had seemed poised to skyrocket, now, after a round of promotion, it had truly taken off.

Especially as the game's content was gradually unearthed—not just players and media, but even producers from the Three Factories couldn't help but feel stunned.

A genius-level figure, a revolutionary design philosophy.

As things developed, many players even took the initiative to recommend the game to friends and family.

Because this game had far too much depth.

Every ending carried its own meaning, each one provoking deep thought.

For example, in the Normal Ending, following the narrator's instructions all the way, Stanley ultimately gains freedom.

Yet the player, in the end, loses their own freedom.

In the Madness Ending, Stanley encounters the most terrifying thing of all.

This is a punishment—the player's penalty for defying the narrator's guidance.

Though the game's multitude of endings and excellent dialogue and lines drew players in, what truly sent The Stanley Parable soaring wasn't any of that.

It was the meaning behind those endings.

No matter how hard people try to escape fate, they ultimately only lose the game.

In The Stanley Parable, the ending that follows the narrator's freedom seems to be the best.

Stanley doesn't have to listen to anyone; every move is his own to control.

But right after the narrator says that, he immediately adds: "And then this bastard steps out the door."

From that perspective, even after freedom, Stanley still lives under the narrator's shadow.

Countless players, after experiencing it, come away with different feelings.

And those feelings—the contemplation, the exploration—are unforgettable.

While the gaming circle's producers were constantly delving into The Stanley Parable, Wang Chuan was taking it easy.

Once The Stanley Parable's paying users exceeded ten thousand and it topped the new game charts, he submitted an application to the Official Game Platform right away.

Mm, an application to become an official Game Producer.

Maybe it was because of The Stanley Parable's incredible achievements, or maybe because he'd broken the fastest record.

Either way, within less than half an hour of submitting, he got approval.

In the Pangu Editor, he found the game forum and the official Weibo.

Behind his account, there was now a big V certification.

The info read: "Game Producer of The Stanley Parable."

And when he received the official reply, the Side Quest on the system was also successfully completed.

"Ding! Congratulations, master, on becoming an official Game Producer. Reward obtained: five to ten Big Wheel spins."

"Ding! Random draw in progress, please wait."

"Ding! Congratulations, master, on an incredible stroke of luck. You've received ten Big Wheel spins."

Sitting in his chair, the panel visible only to him changed for the first time.

The Fan Points, which had been zero, shot straight up to over thirty-seven thousand.

As for where those Fan Points came from, Wang Chuan already knew.

When people experienced the game he'd made, the emotions it stirred—joy, anger, sorrow, pleasure, the seven passions and six desires—

all converted into Fan Points, stored in the system panel.

Of course, different emotions yielded different amounts of Fan Points.

As for what Fan Points could do, for now, it seemed they were used for draws on the Big Wheel.

Maybe new functions would appear later.

"Anyway, I've got nothing to do now. Why not give it a shot?"

Ahem, no dirty jokes here.

Wang Chuan looked at the ten chances on the panel, couldn't resist, and went straight for a ten-pull.

After grinding through all kinds of games, he'd long summed up the experience: ten-pulls are where the good stuff comes from.

Single pulls only get you tears of regret.

As the ten-pull began...

The Big Wheel began to spin continuously, and flickering lights blossomed across its surface.

Then, a series of system prompts rang out.

"Ding! Congratulations, Master, for obtaining an Art Skill Book: Attribute +1."

"Ding! Congratulations, Master, for obtaining a Numerical Skill Book: Attribute +1."

"Ding! Congratulations, Master, for obtaining a Memory Searcher."

The ten consecutive draws ended, and Wang Chuan took stock.

In total, he had obtained two Memory Searchers and eight different skill books.

Art, Music, Numerical—there was one of each.

Without hesitation, he kept the Memory Searchers and used everything else.

They were useless just sitting there, so he might as well use them to strengthen his abilities.

The eight different skill books suddenly transformed into specks of light, swirled around once, and then surged into Wang Chuan's body.

"It feels like I've improved quite a bit in game development," he thought.

Sensing the change, Wang Chuan found his knowledge of music, art, numerical values, and other areas had grown richer.

"But I still have over thirty-seven thousand Fan Points left, enough for three more spins on the Big Wheel. Should I save them?"

Wang Chuan hesitated for a moment, but then glanced at his Fan Points—they were still steadily climbing.

"Forget it, I'll just draw. Let's see if a single pull brings a miracle."

Since they'd keep increasing anyway, and saving them didn't do much good, he might as well use them.

With that thought, Wang Chuan decisively spent thirty thousand Fan Points.

"Ding! Congratulations, Master, for obtaining a Memory Searcher."

"Ding! Congratulations, Master, for obtaining a Music Skill Book: Attribute +1."

"Ding! Congratulations, Master, for obtaining a Directing Skill Book: Attribute +1."

"???"

Seeing the skill book that came out last, Wang Chuan was baffled.

What the hell was this?

Staring at the Directing Skill Book, he felt dazed.

A Directing Skill Book? Was this trying to get him to make movies and become a director?

That wasn't even his field!

But after a moment of stunned silence, Wang Chuan snapped out of it.

After all, games and movies were somewhat connected on a certain level.

A director makes movies, using actors, camera shots, visuals, music, scripts, and other elements to construct a cinematic world.

A Game Producer does the same, using art, music, level design, story, and other elements to build a game world.

One immerses the audience in a film; the other immerses the player in a game.

They were two sides of the same coin.

Speaking of which, Wang Chuan remembered that before he transmigrated, Blizzard was jokingly called "Blizzard Film Studio" by players because their CG cutscenes were better than actual movies.

He could learn from Blizzard too!

A producer who doesn't want to make a good movie isn't a great director~~~