Chapter 41: One Hammer, One Decision

As time passed, the sales of To the Moon continued to rise steadily.

At the same time, numerous domestic media outlets that had been closely following this event began releasing articles.

An Unforgettable Love Story: 'To the Moon,' a Game That Will Make You Cry!

Game Review: A Game That Strikes Straight to Your Heart!

Top Contender in the Game Design Competition: Can 'To the Moon' Even Be Considered a Sci-Fi Game?

A Game That Makes Countless Tough Guys Shed Tears

Ever since the Game Design Competition began a week ago, it had already become quite clear which games stood a chance at winning awards, and which ones didn’t.

Some entries were merely participating for show, and naturally failed to generate much buzz.

As for those serious contenders, both players and game designers within the gaming industry already had a clear idea.

The top prize was essentially down to a final showdown between To the Moon and Galaxy Heroes, developed by Jianhuolei Studio under NetDragon.

In the player voting category, To the Moon had pulled significantly ahead of Galaxy Heroes.

However, the final result wasn’t determined by player votes alone—the official evaluation from the Game Department carried considerable weight.

While To the Moon held a certain advantage, it wasn’t overwhelming.

So everything still hinged on the official scoring.

During this time, players online were fiercely debating the two games.

'The winner will definitely be Galaxy Heroes. I admit To the Moon has a great story, but is it even a game? It has zero gameplay. Can it even be called a sci-fi game?'

'Seconding the previous comment—Galaxy Heroes winning would truly be well-deserved!'

'Oh, come on. What exactly do you mean by “gameplay”? Care to translate that for me? Isn’t storytelling a form of gameplay? Isn’t music a form of gameplay? Does it only count as gameplay if you’re fighting monsters or solving puzzles?'

'Exactly. If To the Moon doesn’t qualify as a sci-fi game, then most of the other entries shouldn’t either. Why don’t you ask the Game Department to disqualify them all?'

'La-la-la, not listening, not listening. Anyway, my vote goes to To the Moon.'

'Hehe, victory will surely belong to Galaxy Heroes!'

'Right, Galaxy Heroes will definitely claim ultimate victory!'

'Hmph, what’s all this about Galaxy Heroes? Look at the game designer’s name—Meng Zuo. That’s basically “Dreaming.” Winning first prize? They’ll only achieve that in their dreams!'

'Whoa, bro, that’s a seriously sharp interpretation!'

'Hey, are you guys so sure it’s just between To the Moon and Galaxy Heroes? Don’t underestimate Beast of Darkness, produced by the Great Demon King!'

'Hehe, don’t be fooled by the current player votes. To the Moon and Galaxy Heroes may be far ahead now, but I have a feeling the real winner will be Ashaji by Black Lily Studio.'

'You two upstairs—night hasn’t fallen yet. Stop daydreaming. Just leave cleanly and gracefully, okay?'

'+1. Please exit gracefully, you two upstairs!'

Every player had their personal favorite, and with the final results still unannounced, naturally everyone wanted to claim the moral high ground in various online communities.

But overall, it was a classic case of everyone having their own valid points.

Compared to the heated online discussions and debates, Chen Xu remained remarkably calm.

………………

The office at Nebula Games.

Chen Xu sat in his office, making a phone call to inform a candidate of their interview result.

The hires for Art and Music had already been finalized.

But for Numerical Design and Level Design, several candidates had been interviewed, none of whom particularly satisfied Chen Xu.

"Chen Xu, how can you not be anxious at all?" Yang Xin asked, watching him hang up the phone, then standing up and pacing around the office twice.

"Yeah, isn’t the award list supposed to be announced today?" Ruan Ningxue was also a bit excited.

This was the third game she had participated in developing.

She was no longer the clueless newcomer she once was in the gaming industry.

As for her earlier idea of becoming a doujinshi king and switching careers to become a cartoonist, she had long since shelved that thought.

Partly because she had discovered the joy of game development.

And partly because Nebula Games was doing so well—why would she even think about manga now?

"Even if I’m anxious, it won’t change anything," Chen Xu replied, exasperated. "The final result isn’t something I can control."

Of course he hoped to win an award, but seriously—wasn’t that out of his hands?

"By the way, let’s release the mobile version of Undertale right after today’s award announcement," Chen Xu added, as if remembering something. "Given the current trend, we’re almost guaranteed a top-two spot. Whether we win first or not, we’ll definitely have some popularity. Let’s ride our own wave while it’s hot."

During the time To the Moon was competing, Nebula Games had been focused on two main internal tasks.

One was porting Undertale to mobile. That hadn’t taken much effort and had actually been completed long ago.

It was only being delayed now to better capitalize on their current momentum.

The other task was team expansion.

Beyond the development team, Chen Xu planned to scale up.

Other departments—operations, finance, HR—were also being expanded. The foundation was essentially in place.

Additionally, there was the platform development team.

Currently, in the eyes of most players and the gaming industry, Nebula Games was still just a tiny indie studio.

From Mirror (Game) to Undertale, and now To the Moon, they had never produced a blockbuster—just small-scale independent games.

But Chen Xu’s ambitions clearly went far beyond that.

In the Future Era, Nebula Games would inevitably venture into much broader territories.

The current effort to build their own platform was the first step toward solidifying their foundation.

Would this draw attention from the industry?

To be blunt, right now Nebula Games was a Hammer.

Even if To the Moon won first place in this competition, it would only stir up a wave in the independent gaming community and briefly put them on the map within the wider gaming industry.

As for triggering wariness or hostility from industry giants?

That was just wishful thinking.

Besides, self-operated platforms weren’t uncommon.

After all, launching a platform didn’t automatically mean creating a channel.

You needed partners, a solid user base, and sufficient popularity.

Many mid-tier developers, independent game producers, and studios with established series and loyal fanbases already operated their own platforms—because launching on third-party platforms meant paying fees.

With a self-operated platform, every purchase made by players went directly to the studio.

After taxes, it was pure profit.

Meanwhile, as online discussions continued to swirl, the Game Design Competition reached its conclusion—decided in one decisive blow by an official announcement from the Game Department.

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