Chapter 97: President Pei’s Mysterious Intentions Meeting
Chapter 97: President Pei's Mysterious Intentions Meeting
Wednesday, the 24th.
It was time for the design team's regular meeting.
Pei Qian didn't attend. After all, the design draft had already been finalized and production was well underway. As the big boss, it wasn't his job—nor was it necessary—for him to keep an eye on every little detail.
These days, Lu Mingliang has pretty much taken over all the responsibilities.
Although Huang Sibo had suddenly shuffled off this mortal coil—wait, no, not literally. He just up and left, throwing everyone into a bit of chaos. Fortunately, everyone had always handled their own duties well, and the structure of the design team hadn't changed much. Things quickly returned to normal.
Running around and taking care of everything, Lu Mingliang gradually adapted to his role as Lead Executive Designer. Aside from occasionally falling back into his old habit of micromanaging, he was doing just fine.
After officially stepping into the role, Lu Mingliang realized something unexpected—
Hey, this job isn't as hard as I thought it'd be.
Thanks to the tough experience from Ocean Fortress, this team was already a well-oiled machine. As long as he kept the schedule on track, everyone handled their own parts with admirable diligence.
For a moment, Lu Mingliang found himself deep in thought.
Could it be… many people actually do have the ability to lead—they just never got the chance?
Back in his old company, he was just a grunt. Day in and day out, he worked himself to the bone doing repetitive tasks that never really improved his skills.
So when he first took over the Lead Executive Designer role, he'd been riddled with anxiety—"Can I really do this?"
But after giving it an honest try, he realized… Hey, it's really not that bad.
Now that he thought about it, all that talk at his old company about "earning your stripes" or "waiting your turn" might have just been a way to filter people out.
Maybe this is President Pei's philosophy when it comes to people management?
Lu Mingliang couldn't help but feel moved.
So it's true—there are many horses of great potential, but few who can recognize them.
A great leader is someone who can tap into their team's full potential and creativity. Meanwhile, those so-called "leaders" who only know how to squeeze their employees dry end up turning them into mindless machines—slow and inefficient.
Thinking that far, Lu Mingliang's respect for President Pei deepened even further.
He cleared his throat and began, "Today's meeting has two main topics."
"First—I'll be away for two or three days to do voice work for Game Producer... Don't ask me why, because I'd like to know that myself."
To this day, Lu Mingliang still couldn't figure out what on earth President Pei was thinking, asking him to do the voiceover.
No matter how you sliced it, this decision easily deserved a spot on the "Top Ten Most Bizarre Decisions in Game Development" list.
But since it was President Pei's call… There could be no questioning it.
The entire room stared at him, dumbfounded.
What the heck?
In the middle of game development, the Lead Executive Designer was being sent off to do voice acting??
The room fell into a stunned silence.
Lu Mingliang went on, "Second, I hope everyone reads through the game's script more thoroughly and makes sure their assigned features are polished. Coordinate with Ruan Guangjian as needed, and if you hit a roadblock, just give me a call."
He had to give the team a brief handover.
The narration scripts in the game weren't too extensive—if all went well, three days should be more than enough.
Even though it was a short absence, those three days were still critical. Lu Mingliang was worried people might slack off or freeze up when problems arose, so he left extra reminders.
Once he was done, the room opened up for open discussion. Everyone began raising detailed questions and exchanging thoughts.
Because the design draft was already in great shape, the remaining unresolved issues were quickly finalized one by one.
Lu Mingliang noticed that Lin Wan had been holding a printed script in her hands, carefully studying the narrator's lines from Game Producer.
He couldn't help but feel curious.
Reading the script… isn't that my job as the voice actor?
Lin Wan had joined Tengda Network Technology Co., Ltd. just over a month ago.
In that time, she'd been assigned a few minor features like everyone else. She worked diligently and responsibly, but since her tasks weren't particularly challenging, she hadn't stood out much.
At this moment, however, Lin Wan was flipping through the Game Producer narration script over and over again. The pages were even starting to look a little crumpled from use.
"I think… I'm starting to understand a little of what President Pei intended," she said, glancing at Lu Mingliang.
"Huh?" Lu Mingliang blinked. "You mean… the reason he's having me do the voice acting?"
Lin Wan nodded, her tone increasingly confident. "Exactly."
"Tell me!" Lu Mingliang leaned in, clearly intrigued.
He had no idea why President Pei chose him for the role. The whole thing made him nervous—he worried that if he messed up, he might drag the entire game down with him.
But judging from Lin Wan's expression, could it be… that there was some deeper meaning behind it all?
Lin Wan flipped back to the beginning of the script and entered full-on analysis mode.
"I have to say… President Pei really buried the true purpose deep. That's why we didn't notice it at first."
"It was only after I reread the narrator's lines—personally revised by President Pei himself—and compared them with the recent short videos from President Pei's Daily Life that I started to see the pattern."
"I believe, just like President Pei's Daily Life, Game Producer is using a darkly humorous tone—it's packed with satire!"
"Take a look at the narrator's lines."
"The narrator constantly nudges the player to make certain choices throughout the game development process. Each time, the options presented seem reasonable—they look like the most profitable or practical decisions at the moment."
"For instance, when choosing between a one-time purchase model or a monetized freemium model, the narrator pushes you toward the freemium."
"When deciding between light or heavy in-game purchases, the narrator encourages the heavy option."
"When picking an art style, the narrator sways you toward the currently trending chibi aesthetic…"
"Every suggestion makes sense on the surface. After all, game companies need to turn a profit, and these choices are great for that."
"But what happens in the end?"
"If you follow the narrator's advice to the letter, the game flops. Your reputation tanks. Players hate it. You end up with nothing!"
"And then the narrator turns around and mocks you—telling you that as a boss, you lack judgment, that you're spineless and easily manipulated. You just blindly followed the narrator's suggestions without thinking."
"You might think the narrator caused your failure. But no—the narrator merely gave you bad advice. You were the one who failed to see through it. You're the one who brought about your own downfall."
"The narrator's role is to amplify that feeling of failure—to rub it in. And yes, it will make players uncomfortable."
"But that's the point. It's an unfiltered reality. It's satire."
"Why do so many trashy, soul-crushing games exist in the world? It's simple—because too many bosses walk the same mental path."
"The narrator? It's the devil of greed inside them, whispering temptation after temptation until they fall into the abyss."
Lu Mingliang nodded again and again.
That… actually makes a lot of sense!
"But… why is it that if you completely ignore the narrator, you still fail?" another designer raised their hand, looking puzzled. "Is that part of the satire too?"
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