Giving Interstellar Players a Horror Ghost Game Shock - Chapter 37
“LuoDiChengHe”: “Hello, Master! From yesterday to today, your game has been an enormous success. Your creativity is absolutely amazing!”
Ye Yuxi: “Not at all, your operations have been excellent as well.”
After a round of mutual compliments, LuoDiChengHe shifted the topic and voiced their concern.
“LuoDiChengHe”: “The game forum is experiencing unprecedented activity right now. The discussion count has already made it the hottest topic on DouDou recently, and there’s a lot of conversation around the story and walkthroughs. At this rate, it won’t be long before everyone completely figures out Campus Nightmare and loses interest, don’t you think?”
“LuoDiChengHe”: “Do you have any plans for this situation?”
Ye Yuxi raised an eyebrow. So, this was what they were worried about.
How to put it? For single-threaded story-driven games like this, their popularity naturally comes with a shelf life.
It’s like a TV series—once you’ve watched it or heard someone explain it, only a handful of people would be willing to re-watch it.
So the subtext of LuoDiChengHe was clear—they wanted her to strike while the iron was hot, riding this wave of success to immediately release a sequel to Campus Nightmare or another similar game. A new release would perfectly carry over the momentum of the current hype.
Just as Ye Yuxi was about to explain her plans, she received an unexpected message.
“Feixun Representative”: “Miss Ye, I hope you don’t mind me reaching out because I saw you online.”
“Feixun Representative”: “First, congratulations on the enormous success of your debut game. You’re now seen as a promising rising star in the industry. Our company is very eager to collaborate with you and hopes you can release your upcoming sequels on our platform.”
“Feixun Representative”: “Even though you’re a newcomer, we’re willing to offer a 60% revenue share in your favor. If there’s no issue, we can finalize the contract right away.”
The message came with a contract attachment, which specifically stated that all of Ye Yuxi’s future games must be published on Feixun, including the sequel to Campus Nightmare.
Staring at the seemingly respectful yet presumptuous tone of the message, paired with the “binding” contract, Ye Yuxi couldn’t help but laugh out loud.
A 60/40 split was already standard in the industry, yet Feixun made it sound as if they were being magnanimous. Their audacity was almost comical.
They’d acted so high and mighty before, but now that Campus Nightmare was a hit, they came crawling back with shameless confidence, trying to poach her and secure the sequel. Did they think she’d forgotten the patronizing tone from their previous interactions? The chat history was still there, after all.
Ye Yuxi: “I don’t consider working with platforms that look down on people. Thanks, but no thanks.”
On the other end of the chat, a teacup slammed onto a desk with a loud crack.
The hawk-nosed man’s face darkened as he stared at the screen, unable to believe what he’d just read. How dare a mere newcomer reject him so bluntly—again?
That single line from Ye Yuxi was a brutal blow to someone as prideful as him.
“Damn that Ye Yuxi!”
But the higher-ups had already issued an order: no matter the method, they had to bring Ye Yuxi onboard and secure her commitment to release the Campus Nightmare sequel exclusively on Feixun.
Anyone with even a bit of insight could see that Ye Yuxi had grand ambitions. May Bridge was merely her first experimental step, and what would follow was undoubtedly an entire series of games built around the Campus Nightmare universe!
No one could have foreseen that in just 12 hours, Campus Nightmare would skyrocket to unimaginable popularity.
The excitement wasn’t confined to the game’s comment section; discussions were flooding every major platform, fueled by enthusiastic players.
It must be said, supernatural horror games seem to have tapped into everyone’s long-dormant thrill-seeking spirit. Many players were drawn in just to catch a glimpse of the ghostly beauty and experience the adrenaline rush.
But that’s not the main point. The crux of the matter was this: the Feixun CEO could only think about how much profit their platform would have made if they had signed this game. Instead, all those benefits went to DouDou!
Damn it! The peak online players for Campus Nightmare had already exceeded 100 million.
Although it was a single-player game, the CEO was confident that with a properly integrated microtransaction system, at least 10% of the players could be converted into paying users. The potential revenue would be astronomical!
Handled correctly, the profits might not surpass those of Falling Stars 2, but it could easily overshadow most of Feixun’s current games.
The more he thought about it, the more he resented Shen Yuelong—the team leader he had once held in high regard—for letting Ye Yuxi slip through his fingers. To the CEO, Shen Yuelong was the root cause of at least a billion-yuan loss!
Shen Yuelong, feeling the mounting displeasure from his boss, was inwardly panicking.
“Damn it! That girl just got lucky, striking a chord with public psychology at the right time. Her game has plenty of bugs I could point out!”
Furious, Shen Yuelong almost punched the wall, but sanity returned at the last second. This was company property, and he’d already upset the boss—he couldn’t afford to make things worse.
After some restraint, he tried to smooth things over, but Ye Yuxi was unyielding. Eventually, she stopped responding altogether.
This time, his rage truly boiled over.
“Fine! You won’t take a toast? You must pay the price! I gave you a chance to make money together, but you refused. You and DouDou can both rot!”
A venomous glint flashed in Shen Yuelong’s eyes. His tone became low and soft, carrying the suffocating chill of a coiled viper.
“Games like this—story driven single-player games—only have short-lived appeal. Once people figure out the plot, the hype dies down. Still, I must thank Miss Ye for pioneering this concept. We’ll probably see plenty of similar games flooding the market soon.”
“When more polished games of this kind emerge, and the audience has more choices, how much attention will she still receive?”
“Is the team leader planning to imitate Campus Nightmare for a new game?” a team member asked, adjusting their glasses. “But, sir, you might want to think this through. Miss Ye’s game introduced a unique concept. While it may eventually become a genre, copying her ideas too soon could easily be deemed plagiarism.”
“There are ways around that,” Shen Yuelong sneered. “Applying for patents is a cumbersome process. She probably hasn’t filed hers yet, right?”
That afternoon, after attending a class, Ye Yuxi returned to her dormitory in high spirits, only to run into Bai Siqi rushing out in a fluster.
Clearly not expecting to bump into her, Bai Siqi froze in shock.
“W-why are you back?”
Ye Yuxi raised an eyebrow.
“This is my dorm too. Why wouldn’t I come back?”
“S-sorry, just kidding,” Bai Siqi mumbled, lowering her head. For once, she didn’t argue and quickly left with her head down.
Ye Yuxi calmly entered the room, her gaze landing on the virtual space connection device that had been hung back in its original spot.
That night, at midnight, Feixun launched a new game.
A storm began to brew on the star net.
Meanwhile, Ye Yuxi, who had gone to bed early, turned over in her sleep, blissfully unaware of the schemes and plots directed her way. She slept soundly, utterly unbothered.