Chapter 831: Some Optimizations and Modifications
The development of *Assassin's Creed: Origins* was progressing smoothly, and the modifications for the VR version were basically problem-free.
As for the loading issue that many were concerned about, Chen Mo adopted a relatively balanced design approach in *Assassin's Creed: Origins*.
*Assassin's Creed: Origins* would be an open world, and it had to be an open world. A linear game couldn't possibly capture the vast expanse of ancient Egypt, and the brilliant side quests would have no place to exist.
However, open worlds inevitably face a problem: how to handle resource loading.
The visual quality of *Uncharted* had already pushed the performance of the VR game pod to its limits, and that was under the premise of concentrating the pod's power on rendering only a small portion of the scene. To create an open world, players must be allowed to freely choose their exploration routes, making it impossible to pre-plan their paths.
So, the VR version of *Assassin's Creed: Origins* adopted a seamless map approach. The large map was divided into many small chunks, and when a player entered a chunk, the surrounding chunks would be preloaded.
However, even this level of "seamless map" had been attempted by other games and still couldn't guarantee the complete elimination of loading bars. Therefore, *Assassin's Creed: Origins* employed additional methods.
For example, at certain specific area nodes, like in *Uncharted*, loading bars were masked by cutscenes or specific actions, quickly loading the resources around the protagonist while the loading occurred.
Additionally, the main quest flow was more rigorously planned. Through an AI system and big data analysis, the game inferred the player's next route based on their behavior habits, using tasks or activities as guides to preload resources for the player's next target.
In other words, if the system determined that the player was highly likely to go complete Task A next, it would preload the resources related to Task A, ensuring a smoother experience.
This scenario was mainly applied in situations like this: a player accepts a task several hundred meters away and happens to have a fast travel point nearby. In such cases, most players would choose to fast travel. Under conventional settings, such a long-distance teleport would inevitably cause loading. But if the system could predict the teleport in advance, it could preload the resources near the fast travel point, eliminating or significantly shortening the loading time. Perhaps the loading would be completed in just a single shot of an eagle flying across the sky.
Or, if a player died while completing a task and respawned at a point several hundred meters away, loading would normally occur. If the system still retained the resources at the respawn point, this loading time could also be saved.
Through these methods, *Assassin's Creed: Origins* could eliminate the vast majority of loading, providing players with a very seamless gaming experience. At least during the first playthrough, most players wouldn't even realize the game had loading.
Of course, players might also have sudden whims, wanting to teleport thousands of meters to another location. In such cases, loading would be unavoidable. Chen Mo wasn't a god, and he couldn't solve technically impossible problems.
However, like the original *Assassin's Creed: Origins*, Chen Mo provided players with a cool loading space. When loading, players wouldn't just stare at a progress bar doing nothing. Instead, they could run around in the Animus's virtual space, try out various attack moves, and practice on virtual dummies, making the longer loading periods less boring.
Additionally, Chen Mo made some optimizations regarding the leveling and main quest issues in *Assassin's Creed: Origins*.
In the original game, the difficulty settings and quest line arrangements weren't particularly reasonable. One of the most noticeable problems was that many players felt the main quest was too scattered, leaving them confused about what to do next.
In the original, even on Easy difficulty, level suppression was severe. If players challenged enemies above their level, even with decent skills, it would be very tough because the numerical design dictated it.
So, players faced a dilemma: if they only did main quests, due to insufficient experience and leveling, the required level for main quests would quickly far exceed their current level, making the tasks very difficult or even completely blocking progress.
If players cleared all side quests in each area after finishing the main quests, the difficulty would indeed be low and experience sufficient. But this diluted the main storyline.
One moment, you've just assassinated a member of the Order of the Ancients, and the next, you're searching for a drunk husband or a missing child, or even retrieving a merchant's stolen horse…
After finishing the side quests, players would look back and think, "What was I supposed to do in the main quest again?" They'd have completely forgotten.
This mix of main and side quests severely weakened the main storyline, leaving many players feeling at a loss: "What should I do now? The main quest level is too high, and I don't want to do side quests."
In reality, this level suppression was completely unnecessary. Many players chose Easy difficulty just to quickly experience the story, but this quest flow artificially created difficulty.
Moreover, it was unreasonable from a background perspective. Bayek was a trained warrior who logically shouldn't be intimidated by anyone. Why did he need to keep leveling up? Not leveling up meant being unable to defeat some powerful enemies, which made no sense.
Remember, Bayek wasn't a novice prince who needed to level up to advance the plot. That would be ridiculous…
So, Chen Mo opted for dynamic leveling. Enemies that respawned across the map would dynamically adjust based on the player's current level. This way, players could choose to push through only the main quests to the end and then slowly clear side quests later, or do both simultaneously.
This allowed different players to experience the story in their own ways, free from level constraints, and better enjoy the fun of the "Egypt Tourism Simulator."
It was also more scientifically sound from a character perspective. Bayek was already this capable—why should low-level NPCs beat him down?
Of course, the original leveling and skill systems would be retained. Players would still face increasingly stronger challenges as the game progressed to maintain difficulty in the later stages. However, these challenges would be more skill-based than numerical.
Today, let's talk a bit about the "copycat" genre.
Thanks to Jin Jin Jin Hu and Ma Sui Chen Qu for their two 20,000-coin rewards. The debt remains at 63 chapters.
Everyone knows this book's genre: it's a "copycat" story, where modern works are taken to a parallel world to show off.
From the very beginning of this book until now, readers have asked: Why don't you write about domestic games? Why not original games? If you're so good, why don't you make games yourself?
I've avoided discussing this before, thinking it pointless, but today I have some thoughts, so I'll share them.
When I heard that Total War was making a Three Kingdoms game, many online and in the comments were thrilled, and the trailer was indeed excellent. But I felt a deep sadness. Our own Three Kingdoms theme had to be entrusted to a foreign company. It's truly frustrating.
Do I avoid writing about domestic games? Quite the opposite. I've written about almost every domestic game I consider decent in quality.
Even *Honor of Kings*, I have no aversion to it. I'm open-minded about the "distortion" of historical themes. If elementary school kids didn't know who Zhong Kui was or how to pronounce his name, and after playing *Honor of Kings*, they learn the character "Kui" and know there's such a historical figure, I think that's a good deed.
Knowing a little is better than knowing nothing at all.
I've always believed that even domestic pay-to-win games, if they can have even a tiny positive effect, are worth writing about.
Games like *Onmyoji*, *Tales of Wuxia*, and *Rate of the Land* are hard to compare in scale with foreign masterpieces, but I still wrote about them. Many say, "Why do you always write about foreign games?" I'd love to write about domestic ones, but the problem is, at this stage, there's nothing left to write.
It's not that I'm a foreign-worshipper. The current game industry is what it is. The domestic industry isn't competitive; it can't produce AAA titles. I want to write, but there's no material.
Why don't I write original games?
First, as a "copycat" genre, I haven't exhausted the popular IPs yet, so there's no need to be original.
If I wrote original content now, many readers would ask: Why aren't you writing about *The Legend of Zelda*? Why not *Monster Hunter: World*? Why not *God of War*? Can your original work be better than these games?
Yes, there are still many popular IPs. Even if I do original work, it would have to come after finishing the popular ones.
Additionally, whether it's original games or making games myself, it's not something I can just pull out of thin air.
AAA game development cycles often take one to two years, and game scripts go through countless revisions. They're honed through endless polishing. While updating daily, can I also write a story comparable to AAA titles? Do you think that's realistic?
Later in this book, when things stabilize, I'll write some original games. But they might not have original stories—they could borrow from movies or novels, focusing only on original gameplay. If some readers expect me to write a story rivaling *The Last of Us* while updating 8,000 words daily… I can only say, dream on. It's impossible.
Unless I stop updating for two or three months to polish just one game's story. Can you tolerate that?
And why don't I make games myself?
Because in China, what games get made isn't decided by designers—it's decided by capital.
AAA titles require not only expertise but also massive investment. No one in China is willing to spend tens of millions or hundreds of millions on AAA single-player games.
If you're so capable, pull out 100 million—not in dollars, RMB is fine—and you can recruit reliable designers, artists, and programmers to make AAA games. The question is, can you pull it out?
Those who can afford it are thinking about how to make more money. AAA games are thankless and difficult. Wealthy people, especially domestic game company bosses, aren't stupid.
Those who can't afford it wonder why no one wants to make AAA games. But if you had that much money, you'd never invest it in gaming.
With that money, why not speculate in real estate?
If you enter the industry as just a game designer? Even if you become a lead designer or producer, you'll still have to bow to publishers and capital. You can't do whatever you want.
If you start your own company, managing employees, the channel tells you: your game must add a shop and recharge events, or they won't promote it. You look at your employees who've worked overtime for months, think about all the money you've invested, and ask yourself: do you add the shop and recharge events?
At that stage, you have to change your game however the channel demands, even if it ruins your beloved creation. Otherwise, the channel won't promote it, no one will see it, and all your hard work will be wasted—maybe losing everything and going into debt.
That's why I hate channels so much. In today's domestic game industry, channels hold development hostage, especially small development companies with zero bargaining power.
Moreover, during development, various people might hold you back—unreliable programmers, uncooperative artists. Any weak link can cause your game's quality to collapse. A great idea can turn into garbage.
And reliable programmers and artists cost money.
In short, money is everything. I don't have money or the ability to change the status quo, so I switched hobbies and started writing books.
At least writing doesn't require kowtowing to channels, and no one else can hold you back. Just write seriously, make readers happy, and that's success.
I believe many readers feel the same way reading this book. It's because what can't be achieved in reality is hoped for in fiction.
In reality, there's no designer or boss like Chen Mo. We hope there can be one in the book. We hope he can create world-shocking games, letting every player experience the awe and emotion that great games bring.
The above is a little popular science (kepu) for readers who know nothing about the game industry but are curious.
As for whether the domestic game industry has any hope? I don't know.
Of course, I'm relatively optimistic. The domestic game industry will eventually produce good AAA titles—it just takes time. Maybe five years, ten years, or longer.
If you're truly concerned about the domestic game industry and want to support domestic games, I think the best thing is to work hard, earn money, and buy more legitimate games. That's enough.
All industries are ultimately sustained by legitimate consumers. So, thank you to every legitimate reader. The more of you there are, the better the domestic cultural industry will become.