Building a game sounds simple in theory, but Julian Reed knew his limitations. In his previous life on Earth, he was an expert at playing them—he could dissect a game's mechanics, praise its loops, and tear down its flaws with the best of the critics—but actually writing the code was a different beast entirely.
He lacked the technical foundation. The mere thought of a syntax error was enough to give him a headache.
"I can't do this alone," Julian muttered, leaning back in his chair. "I need a partner. Someone who lives and breathes code."
He could handle the vision. He could copy the concepts, the balancing, and the world-building from memory. Art assets were less of a concern; the AI generation tools on the Luofu were advanced enough to handle the heavy lifting, even if the soul of the design still needed his touch.
But the core engine? That required a specialist.
A name immediately flickered in his mind: Silver Wolf. The legendary hacker from Punklorde and a member of the Stellaron Hunters. She was a genius who could trade blows with the likes of Screwllum. More importantly, she was a gaming addict.
Julian knew that for someone like her, the chance to build a truly revolutionary game would be an itch she couldn't help but scratch. It wasn't a guaranteed success, but it was a much better bet than trying to cold-call a member of the Genius Society.
"Silver Wolf is everywhere," Julian mused. "She's at the top of every leaderboard. But to get her attention, I can't just send a fan letter. I need a pitch she can't ignore."
He turned to his terminal, his fingers hovering over the keys. The idea of recreating the Pokémon world with Xianzhou-level technology sent a jolt of adrenaline through him.
"If I have this tech at my disposal... why stop at a port? I can do a one-to-one replication of the entire world."
Julian entered a state of flow. The keys clacked rhythmically as he poured his ideas onto the digital scroll.
Core Gameplay: Capture, train, battle. Turn-based commands, but cinematic, like the anime.
Interaction: High-level AI personalities for every creature. They shouldn't just be stats; they should feel alive.
World: A seamless open world. Intelligent NPCs. Dynamic environments.
Mechanics: Remove the four-move limit. Implement a proficiency system. Make the battles feel like a spectacle, not a spreadsheet.
The ideas flowed like a dam breaking. He mapped out the regions, the progression loops, and the social features. He lost himself in the work, oblivious to the passage of time.
By the time he snapped out of it, the sun had long since dipped below the horizon of the Luofu's artificial sky. His stomach roared in protest.
"Is it that late already?"
He saved the draft. The heavy lifting of the inspiration phase was done. The rest would be the tedious data processing—the "factory work" of game design—which he could handle with AI assistance later.
Julian made his way to the Commission's cafeteria, where he spotted a familiar face.
Qingque was slumped over a bowl of rice, looking like her soul had been vacuumed out of her body.
"Still here, Qingque? I thought you'd have vanished the second the clock struck the hour."
In both his lives, Julian knew her as a kindred spirit. They were both masters of the "slacker" arts. While Qingque had the innate talent of a Diviner, she preferred the quiet life of an Archivist—a dream Fu Xuan refused to let her realize.
"It's the Master Diviner," Qingque groaned, not even looking up. "She decided today was the day for a surprise audit. She stayed to watch us personally. I didn't even have a chance to hide my tiles, let alone sneak out for a game."
"To keep the Queen of Slackers at her desk... Lady Fu Xuan's eyes must be getting sharper," Julian joked, sitting across from her.
"Tell me about it! My whole schedule is ruined. But what about you? Why are you still lurking around? Don't tell me you were caught in the audit too."
Qingque knew Julian was just as dedicated to avoiding extra work as she was. He was capable—he could have easily been a strategist or a senior secretary—but he'd chosen the archives specifically for the peace and quiet.
"I just stumbled onto a project," Julian said, shoving a spoonful of rice into his mouth. "Lost track of time. I haven't even eaten since breakfast."
Qingque's eyes narrowed with sudden interest. "A project? You? What kind of project?"
"It's not ready to show yet," Julian replied around a mouthful of food. "But when it is, you'll be the first to know."
"Fine, keep your secrets," she huffed, then perked up. "Anyway, are you free tomorrow? We've got a Celestial Jade game lined up and we're short a fourth."
Julian made an apologetic gesture. "Busy for the next few days. Sorry, Qingque."
He finished his meal in record time and headed for the exit. He had a proposal to polish.
"Since when did he become a workaholic?" Qingque muttered, watching him go. She shrugged and went back to wondering who else she could drag into her game tomorrow.
Back at his quarters, Julian worked late into the night. Fatigue eventually caught up to him, and he collapsed onto his desk, falling into a dreamless sleep surrounded by glowing blue screens.
The morning alarm was a rude awakening. Julian groggily checked his progress. The proposal was eighty percent complete. With the original games and anime as a reference, the framework was rock solid.
He spent his morning shift at the library finishing the final draft. Two hours later, the initial version of the Pokémon Project was ready.
Now came the hard part: the contact.
Julian opened his Jade Abacus and scrolled through the rankings of the most popular games on the Luofu. He looked at the handles: Data Ghost, Claw-Claw, Reconnecting..., I'm Admin, Fight Me.
Any one of them could be her.
He took a breath and sent a blind pitch—a teaser of his proposal and a request for a partnership—to the top three accounts on the list.
"Your move, Silver Wolf."