Giving Interstellar Players a Horror Ghost Game Shock - Chapter 8

The Next Day.

Ye Yuxi, after pulling several all-nighters working on Night of Campus Horror, finally had a chance to catch up on sleep the night before. Now, she felt refreshed and full of energy.

On her way to class, she ran into Liu Haitao and Li He.

The two of them, in stark contrast, were sporting huge dark circles under their eyes, looking like they hadn’t slept well.

It wasn’t clear if their sleepless night was due to being dragged through the mud on the forums in place of Ye Yuxi or because the game had scared them into nightmares.

When they saw Ye Yuxi, they shot her venomous glares.

Although the post on the forum was anonymous, the entire incident had clarified her name, and anyone with half a brain could guess it had something to do with her.

Ye Yuxi, calm as ever, returned their stares with a composed look, even theatrically hugging her arms in mock fear.

“We’re all classmates here—what are you glaring at me for?”

Nearby, other students, in small groups, were sitting and watching the scene unfold. Most of them had witnessed last night’s forum drama and were now discreetly paying attention to the confrontation. Her comment sparked a flurry of whispers.

“These two are so disgusting… They couldn’t cut it themselves, so they framed Ye Yuxi and tried to get her expelled.”

“Hah, and they had the nerve to call her a coward. They’re not so brave themselves—getting scared out of the game after just five minutes!”

Hearing the murmurs around him, Liu Haitao turned ghostly pale.

Once, he had lurked in the shadows, basking in the satisfaction of others’ slander against Ye Yuxi.

Now, as those biting words were directed at him, he finally tasted the suffocating despair of being publicly scorned.

But rather than reflecting on his actions and the harm he had caused Ye Yuxi, Liu Haitao’s bitterness only deepened. He didn’t think about how much damage he had inflicted on her; he only grew more resentful of her.

If not for her, how could he have ended up in such a miserable position?

Even in class, he felt the weight of gazes around him. He imagined everyone whispering about him, every hushed conversation a critique of his disgrace.

Unable to endure it any longer, the moment class ended, he dragged Li He back to the dormitory in a hurry.

The class they had just attended was Professor Wang Yuqing’s Introduction to Narrative Design. She was discussing how to craft the opening of a game to immediately capture players’ attention and convey the core gameplay and competitive edge.

Ye Yuxi listened intently.

Even with the wealth of knowledge she had from another world giving her a major advantage in creativity and environmental design, she knew there was much to learn about making a game truly great.

During Professor Wang’s clear and accessible lecture, Ye Yuxi had a sudden epiphany. She became increasingly dissatisfied with her earlier practice project and resolved to improve it further.

After class, she didn’t spare a second glance at Liu Haitao and Li He, who had practically fled the room. To her, they were nothing more than petty clowns; once the trouble they caused was dealt with, they weren’t worth her energy.

Instead, she stayed behind to consult the professor, but before she could ask her questions, Wang Yuqing called her over.

“Yuxi, I tried out the assignment you submitted yesterday. I have to say, your creativity always surprises me, but this time, I was truly blown away!”

She proceeded to praise Ye Yuxi’s work from a professional standpoint, while also pointing out areas for improvement. As Ye Yuxi herself had realized, the game’s initial experience might leave players feeling confused, unsure of its objectives or gameplay.

“But if you can address these minor flaws, I believe this game is already at a standard fit for release. Yuxi, have you considered officially launching this game on a platform?”

Wang Yuqing looked her directly in the eyes, as if she could see the blazing ambition deep within Ye Yuxi’s soul.

“Not just a small studio, not just promoting your game on forums like Chishui—this is about signing with a major platform and officially becoming an independent game developer!”

“Even though you’re still a student, I believe you are fully capable of achieving this!”

After receiving invaluable advice about launching games from Professor Wang Yuqing, Ye Yuxi sincerely thanked her esteemed mentor. As soon as she returned to her dorm, she began researching submission processes for game platforms.

Before long, the door opened—it was her roommate returning.

At Nanhai University, the prestigious institution of the Nanhai Planet, the campus was expansive, and dorm space was ample. Most accommodations were two-person rooms.

Ye Yuxi’s roommate, Bai Siqi, was a student in the neighboring department of Action Game Design. Bai always looked down on horror games, viewing them as a niche genre. To her, popular shooting and fighting games were the true moneymakers, while niche games equated to poverty post-graduation.

Though Ye Yuxi could sense Bai’s subtle disdain, she didn’t care to deepen their relationship, keeping interactions polite but distant.

Bai Siqi had been on vacation during her department’s recent break and had just returned today. Glancing at Ye Yuxi’s screen, her expression turned to surprise.

“You’re submitting to Feixun? That’s the biggest game platform right now! Their requirements are insanely high. Don’t you want to start small and build up first?”

Feeling their relationship wasn’t close enough for unsolicited advice, Ye Yuxi simply smiled.

“I’m just giving it a shot.”

Unbothered by Ye Yuxi’s lack of interest in her advice, Bai Siqi pursed her lips and thought to herself.

Horror games already have unclear market boundaries and niche appeal. This so-called ‘genius’ has been riding the hype for two years, and now she’s getting overconfident. An undergrad student trying to jump straight to a big platform like Feixun? How ambitious.

It’ll be entertaining to watch her crash and burn. Maybe then she’ll stop thinking so highly of herself.

Satisfied with her internal criticism, Bai Siqi logged into the virtual space to play her own games, leaving Ye Yuxi to her devices.

Ye Yuxi paid no attention to the naysaying. She had full confidence in her game.

Two days later, she completed the revisions to Night of Campus Horror’s prologue. In addition to fixing bugs, she replaced the template NPCs with custom-designed characters and drafted a rough outline for the remaining story. She estimated that the full game could be completed in about two weeks.

In the interstellar era, game submissions followed different protocols compared to the past. While action or shooting games required submitting a full package, story-driven games like hers only needed a completed opening segment. If the platform’s reviewers found it promising, they’d assign specialists to negotiate contracts and revenue splits. If the rest of the game underperformed, the deal could remain a basic revenue-sharing model. However, if it became a hit, the platform might offer to buy the rights outright.

Ahem, back to the point—Ye Yuxi was still at step one: submitting her game.

She registered a designer account under the same ID as her past life’s game alias: “Miss Ye.” Then, she submitted her project to the two most renowned platforms in the interstellar gaming industry: DouDou and Feixun.

Privately, though, she preferred Feixun. Over the past few years, Feixun had consistently churned out blockbuster titles, while DouDou seemed to be on a downward spiral. Plus, she thought Feixun’s name sounded cooler.

True to its reputation, Feixun’s efficiency was unmatched. Within three hours of her submission, they sent back an initial review.

However, the moment Ye Yuxi read the message, her brows furrowed.

(Note: In the interstellar era, the gaming industry has evolved significantly, and the processes described here are fictionalized. Don’t take this as a realistic depiction of modern game publishing or revenue sharing!)