"So… I just remake the game? Right here, right now?"
Leo blinked, looking down at his own hands. They were resting on the worn surface of the desk, but he could almost feel the phantom weight of a keyboard, the smooth curve of a mouse. A fire, long dormant since he'd woken up in this world, roared to life in his chest. A familiar, desperate itch to create.
It doesn't seem impossible, does it?
The entire architecture of the game was already laid out in his mind, a perfect, intricate blueprint. With his programming skill now a solid, intuitive force within him, it was just a matter of translating thought to action. The four core attributes—planning, programming, art, and music—were all competent. He wasn't just a producer anymore; he was a one-man development studio. And with the art assets, the soundtrack, every last texture and sound file already provided, it was like having a disassembled masterpiece just waiting for him to put the pieces together.
There was no reason to wait.
He straightened his back, the worn chair groaning under the sudden movement, and reached for the power button on the computer tower. The machine whirred to life with a familiar hum. As the screen flickered on, the crisp, mechanical voice echoed in his mind again.
[Ding. Standard computer detected. Game development engine has been copied to the desktop. Note: For security, the engine will self-uninstall 30 minutes after you leave the computer. All unfinished project files will be saved to the system cloud in real-time.]
A short, sharp laugh escaped Leo's lips. "Okay. Smart." A ghost of a smile touched his face. "I guess we'll see what this 'Monkey-Proof' engine can really do."
As if in response, the system chimed again, displaying a series of functions not as a list, but as an intuitive understanding that bloomed in his mind.
[This engine streamlines the creative process. Forget wrestling with raw code and hunting for bugs.]
He watched as a garbled, generic-looking icon materialized on his desktop. His curiosity piqued, he realized the implications of the knowledge flowing into him. You could speak or type in plain language, and the engine would translate it into flawless, corresponding code. It would automatically intuit and perfect the logical follow-up behaviors. Numerical values for things like damage or speed would display suggested ranges, but allow for custom input. There was a massive, searchable library of character animations and 4K-quality textures, all royalty-free. You could even convert art styles with a single click.
My God, he thought, the producer in him reeling. This isn't just simple. This is revolutionary. It eliminates ninety percent of the grunt work and financial overhead of game development.
He double-clicked the icon. There was no installation bar, no loading screen. Just a sudden, instantaneous flash of information, a complete user manual downloaded directly into his brain. In less than a second, he knew the engine inside and out.
"This instant proficiency… it's magic," he murmured, a sense of genuine wonder cutting through his focus.
The engine's interface was deceptively spartan—a blank canvas with six simple function buttons arrayed on the side. Compared to the complex, intimidating dashboards of Unreal or Unity from his old world, this was almost laughably simple.
But he knew the power humming beneath that simplicity.
With the game's entire development tutorial etched into his memory, he began. He placed his hands on the keyboard, the plastic keys cool beneath his fingertips. He could have used the voice input, but the physical act of typing felt more real, more deliberate. It grounded him, allowed his thoughts to flow through his fingers, giving him a moment to refine his commands before committing them to the screen.
He had the prologue demo ready to go, a gift from the system. So now, he would build the first real level.
He typed. Create a new project. Title: Dark Forest.
As the foundational code began to assemble itself on screen, his mind drifted back to his first playthrough. As a game, Dark Forest punched so far above its weight class. It put so-called AAA productions to shame with its masterful horror atmosphere. The sheer sense of dread and the burning desire to push forward and uncover its secrets were second to none. It was a small game, but it was flawlessly executed.
Set perspective: Top-down. Set time period: 1987.
The story was simple, elegant in its horror. A sprawling forest, somewhere remote, begins to mutate for reasons unknown. The trees grow with cancerous speed, their canopies interlocking to form a dense, light-blocking roof, plunging the world below into perpetual twilight.
Generate primary environment: A dense, overgrown forest. Trees should be unnaturally tall, blocking most sky visibility. Create a sense of claustrophobia.
The residents—loggers, park rangers, people living off the grid—were trapped. Cut off from the outside world, they struggled to survive. But a strange, corrupting mushroom began to spread through the woods, and through them. They devolved, losing their minds and bodies, becoming feral savages, shambling fungus-men, and things born of nightmare.
Populate environment with hostile entities. Base models: Humanoid. Apply corrupting mushroom aesthetic. Varying stages of mutation.
And then there were the other things. The more terrifying existences that the spreading infection had spawned in the deepest, darkest parts of the forest. The player was an outsider, an amnesiac researcher trying to investigate the source of the anomaly.
Leo remembered the feeling of playing it—the constant, gnawing tension that settled deep in his gut. It was a unique brand of fear, a primal oppression that even supernatural games built around jump scares couldn't replicate. The feeling was pure, unfiltered dread.
The gameplay loop was deceptively simple. During the day, you scavenged for supplies in the dangerous woods. At night, you had to make it back to a safe house to survive until dawn.
Establish day/night cycle. Increase enemy aggression and spawn rate at night.
But that was the game's most brilliant, cruelest trick. He typed the command, a grim smile on his face.
Designate structure type: Safe House. Core function: Provides temporary shelter.
The safe house wasn't safe. It was a flimsy promise, a place where you could possibly survive the night. As evening fell, you'd race back, using the precious resources you'd gathered to board the windows, barricade the doors, and start the generator. Then, you'd find a defensible room, huddle in a corner, and just… wait.
Because at night, things came for you.
You'd hear them outside, their shrieks tearing at the edges of your sanity. They would hammer on the doors, their blows splintering the wood. They'd claw at the windows, testing your defenses. Some would burrow up from the floorboards. Doors would creak open on their own. Hallucinations would flicker at the edge of your vision. Some could even kill the generator, plunging you into absolute darkness before phasing through the walls to get you.
Nighttime was the heart of the game. It transformed the player from a cautious explorer into cornered, terrified prey.
This world has no idea what's coming, he thought, a thrill running through him. In this barren wasteland of horror, this game will be a bombshell. It will terrify them. And every scream will be another point of Fright Value.
The hours melted away. The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky outside his grimy window in shades of orange and purple before fading to black. Leo didn't notice. He was in the zone, a state of pure creative flow he hadn't felt in years. Code and assets flowed from his mind, through his fingertips, and onto the screen, assembling themselves with impossible speed and precision.
Finally, sometime after seven, he leaned back, a deep exhale rattling in his chest. He stretched his arms high above his head, his joints popping in protest. On the monitor, the first chapter of the game was roughly thirty percent complete. A satisfied grin spread across his face. The prologue was just a tiny, linear slice, but this first chapter was a sprawling map with three distinct zones, each with its own unique safe house, dilapidated buildings to explore, and even NPCs with obscure, morally gray side quests.
He knew he could do this. He could finish the entire game by himself. It was only a matter of time.
Without hesitating, he opened a web browser and navigated to StreamVerse, the country's largest video-sharing platform. He uploaded the gameplay video the system had provided—a polished demonstration of the prologue. Then, he uploaded the localized demo file itself to a cloud drive and pasted the link into the video description.
He typed out the title, making it punchy and intriguing.
[Indie Dev Project! Real Gameplay Demo of new horror game "Dark Forest" - Playable Prologue Inside!]
For the description, he kept it simple and ominous.
'You are trapped in a dark forest. Scavenge by day, and pray you survive the night. How many days can you last? And will you ever escape?'
He clicked 'Publish.' A small notification popped up: Video is being processed.
His goal wasn't to attract investors—he was just a random guy, not a studio. This was about planting a flag. Getting attention. Building a foundation of curiosity and dread for when the full product was ready.
As he got up to stretch his stiff back, his phone buzzed on the desk. He glanced at the screen. It was a message from his sister, Maya. The text was simple.
[Bro, come to my room.]
Leo's good mood instantly evaporated, replaced by a prickle of concern. He frowned. He left his room and crossed the short, dark hallway to his sister's door, knocking softly.
No answer.
He knocked again, a little harder this time. "Maya?" Still nothing.
Did something happen? She was laid up with a broken leg. The message was abrupt. Now she wasn't answering? A knot of anxiety tightened in his stomach. He didn't hesitate any longer, turning the old brass knob and pushing the door open.
A faint, sweet fragrance, like vanilla and lavender, drifted out to meet him. The room was dark save for the ambient glow of the city outside. Maya was sitting up in bed, the VR headset strapped over her eyes. A goofy smirk played on her lips, and though her right leg was propped up on a pillow, encased in a thick plaster cast, her left foot was swinging back and forth with restless energy.
Leo let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. Relief washed over him, quickly followed by a flicker of sibling annoyance. Nothing was wrong. She was just lost in another world.
He knocked sharply on the open door frame, the sound much louder this time.
"Ah!" Maya jumped, fumbling to pull the Bluetooth headphones from her ears. She didn't even bother taking off the VR headset. "Hey, bro! Mom and Dad are working overtime. What's for dinner?"
Before he could even form a reply, she barreled on, her words tumbling out in a rush.
"Can we get fried rice? Ooh, and I want two extra chicken legs this time."
Leo just stared at her. This. This is what you called me in for? You couldn't have just typed that?
He shook his head, a weary but fond smile returning. This was the first time he'd really seen her since… arriving. He remembered a quiet, well-behaved kid in middle school. But university had unleashed something in her—a wild, playful energy that even a broken leg couldn't seem to contain.
Still, she was sensible. He knew she only ever asked for cheap takeout like fried rice because she was acutely aware of how tight their finances were. But they couldn't live on that stuff.
He decided then and there. It was time he started acting like a proper older brother.
"I'll cook tonight."
Maya froze. She yanked the VR headset off, her eyes wide with undisguised shock. Her long dark hair was a mess from the straps. "You? Brother, since when can you cook?"
Seeing the baffled look on her face, Leo laughed. "I've always known how. No takeout tonight. We're eating real food. It's healthier."
He turned and walked out, leaving Maya staring after him, her expression shifting from disbelief to something closer to worry, and then, outright fear.
His cooking? she thought. Is it even edible?
PLS SUPPORT ME AND THROW POWERSTONES .