Chapter 768: This Year’s Thunderbolt Interactive Is Terrifying
It was already mid-October, and in the following month or so, no major studio had announced any classic games for release. Barring any surprises, *The Last of Us* securing the Game of the Year award was practically a done deal.
However, what truly shook the gaming industry wasn’t just that. Another question loomed: just how many of Chen Mo’s games would be nominated for Game of the Year?
Last year, Chen Mo had won the Game of the Year award with *Dark Souls*, thanks to its brilliant level design, world-building, story, and difficulty. This earned Thunderbolt Interactive the title of "Dark God Studio." Many in the gaming world assumed he would continue this style, delving deeper into similar hardcore games.
But Chen Mo had taken a completely different path.
*Uncharted* redefined the adventure genre, while *The Last of Us* redefined the post-apocalyptic genre.
Clearly, even compared to the best works from major studios this year, *Uncharted* held a commanding lead with its high score of 9. And *The Last of Us*, with its perfect score, was unstoppable—killing gods and Buddhas alike.
What was even more terrifying wasn’t just these two games. There was another game even more popular than both: *PlayerUnknown’s Battlegrounds*.
Since the international servers launched, *PUBG*’s popularity had been climbing steadily, and the adoption rate of VR gaming pods kept breaking expectations. On the VR platform, *PUBG*’s momentum was unstoppable. Unless another powerful dark horse emerged to disrupt it, *PUBG* in the VR space was highly likely to reach the same level of popularity as *League of Legends* on PC.
Even the mobile version of *PUBG* had already topped the charts. He couldn’t stand this life, so he chose a relatively easy way out. But Joel said, believe me, it wasn’t easy. Being bitten to death by zombies or blowing your own brains out is much better than that feeling. In other words, over the past 20 years, Joel, who had endured the pain of losing his daughter, had once attempted suicide but ultimately chose to live on bravely.
For example, the black kid wanted a toy, but his brother stopped him. Ellie deliberately brought that toy for the black kid. After the black kid died, Ellie kept that toy in her backpack. Other collectibles included a letter her mother left her before she died and the Firefly dog tag of her good friend Riley.
Another example: in the opening scene, when Joel approached two passersby, one of them provoked him, but the other quickly apologized to Joel. After Joel walked away, the apologetic passerby asked his companion, "Are you crazy? Do you know who that guy is?" This subtly showed that Joel, as a smuggler, was someone many people feared greatly.
In the cannibal hunter town, players could find places where they cremated bodies, discarded clothes, and even "harvest lists" detailing how many victims fell every so often.
In the Firefly lab’s supply records, there was even a Halloween joke: the supply list for Halloween included 50,000 werewolves, with a note saying "Happy Halloween."
These seemingly insignificant puzzles and details permeated the entire game. Players could always find interesting little trinkets in the corners—a note, an ID tag, or a recording tape. These small details made the world of *The Last of Us* more complete and realistic. Players felt as if they could see the lives of every supporting character through Joel and Ellie’s journey.
Many players sighed, saying, "This is the real zombie genre! This is the true post-apocalypse!"
Games that created an apocalypse just to let players run around shooting and killing indiscriminately were thoroughly schooled by *The Last of Us*.
This isn’t a chapter begging for monthly votes.
I have a feeling many of you will click in and say:
"Damn, I thought there’d be a fourth chapter."
Or: "A three-chapter slacker dares to ask for monthly votes?"
Yes, that’s right, I dare!
Ahem, everyone, put away your folding stools, kitchen knives, and small tables. Also, leash your dogs back.
I can explain.
Here’s the thing: this morning, I got a call from Tencent. Old Ma told me, "Kid, you’ve got ideas. Come learn to cook with me—uh, no—come work at Tencent. We need talent like you!"
At the time, my thoughts were, how should I put it?
I’d already figured out which house in Shenzhen to buy.
But then I thought, no, I haven’t finished this book yet. I have to have professional integrity.
So I flatly refused. I said, "It’s not that I’m being modest; it’s all Sarenth’s fault. Besides, so many readers are waiting for my updates. I can’t go. Don’t believe me? Look at these monthly votes—so many people are using them to keep me here."
Old Ma was so regretful. He said, "It’s a shame someone like you won’t come here to milk the players." He also said that when I finish the book, I must come over.
So I agonized and agonized, and only wrote three chapters.
Officer, that’s how it happened. You have to believe me!