Chapter 56: The Importance of Breaking Out of the Niche for Sales

Inside the Nebula Games office, everyone was quite focused on the situation surrounding Outlast.

After all, this release of Outlast was essentially the entire team’s first major attempt.

Moreover, the investment wasn’t insignificant—development costs combined with promotional expenses reached 7 million Yuan.

For first- or second-tier game developers, this wasn’t an enormous sum.

Yet it already exceeded the typical scale of an independent game project.

As such, the team was highly invested in Outlast’s performance.

"Mr. Chen, how’s Outlast doing?"

"Yeah, it’s been two days already."

During lunch break in the office, Yang Xin, Ruan Ningxue, Qin Yi, and others approached Chen Xu, who was reclining in a massage chair.

Although online player reviews and the game’s popularity were extremely high,

for any game, sales were ultimately more important.

High reputation without strong sales—resulting in an overall loss—would mean the project couldn’t survive.

Just like Bayonetta in Chen Xu’s previous life, praised as the only impactful title after the three great ACTs—Ninja Gaiden, God of War, and Devil May Cry.

Yet the IP changed hands multiple times, and its third sequel remained elusive for years.

The primary reason? Critical acclaim without commercial success—abysmal sales.

Witch Time and Bayonetta were both hailed as classics by fans, yet they didn’t sell many copies.

The combined sales of the first two games, even including the HD remastered 1+2 collection, didn’t surpass the sales of Devil May Cry V alone.

The gaming industry could sometimes be so unreasonable.

"It’s going quite well. Excluding player refunds, we’ve already reached 130,000 copies sold. Breaking even within three days shouldn’t be an issue," Chen Xu said with a smile.

Compared to other games, Outlast’s refund rate was exceptionally high.

But this was exactly what Chen Xu had expected.

After all, it was a horror game—and an extremely intense one at that. Players being too frightened to continue was perfectly normal.

This possibility had been factored in even before development began.

"But our own Nebula Games Platform has only sold over 2,000 copies," Yang Xin said, a hint of regret in her voice.

Although Chen Xu hadn’t explicitly stated it, the internal team’s resource allocation clearly favored the Nebula Games Platform.

Some forward-thinking members had already begun to piece together the bigger picture.

"The discounts aren’t compelling enough, the name recognition isn’t there, and Outlast itself isn’t attractive enough yet. This has to be gradual," Chen Xu replied, showing no sign of dejection.

Building a game platform wasn’t something achieved overnight—especially in this Parallel World, where the internet era had long been established.

In Chen Xu’s previous life, Microsoft and Sony had traded wins across the first three console generations in their battle for dominance.

Although Microsoft was often mocked by Sony fans for "winning in the future," they had still secured certain advantages.

But the turning point came when Sony decisively won the most crucial generation—the PS4 era, which coincided with the internet boom.

During this period, rapid internet growth, the convenience of digital games, and the rise of player socialization allowed Sony to build a solid foundation in the console war.

Even with Microsoft’s massive financial power in the following generation—acquiring major studios and launching subscription services—they still remained behind Sony.

Similarly, on the PC platform, EPIC gained millions of users through Fortnite and aggressive financial incentives, yet their platform was still operating at a loss.

Part of this was due to a lack of compelling exclusive titles; the other part was Steam’s overwhelming advantage, accumulated during the internet era.

Even in Chen Xu’s previous life, Tencent’s rise in the gaming industry over veterans like Shanda and NetEase owed at least 70% of its success to its instant messaging foundation.

Thus, Chen Xu clearly understood that becoming an industry giant wouldn’t come from just one or two hit games—it required steady, long-term planning.

However, despite having a clear vision for the future, Chen Xu chose not to dwell on the topic and instead changed the subject: "Outlast’s potential hasn’t been fully tapped yet. We’re about to see a massive sales surge."

"Huh!" Ruan Ningxue and the others looked intrigued.

"The explosion on live streaming and video platforms will spark greater curiosity among players," Chen Xu said with a smile.

For a horror game to increase its sales, it had to break out of its niche.

Of course, "breaking out" didn’t mean leaving the gaming industry—it meant moving beyond the circle of horror game enthusiasts.

If a horror game remained confined to horror fans, it was destined to achieve only modest sales.

Take the highly successful horror games from Chen Xu’s previous life—Resident Evil, with characters like Leon and Ada, and later memes like the Hand Sanitizer Warrior, Lady Dimitrescu, and the Fly Swatter MOD, all gained massive recognition.

Similarly, Five Nights at Freddy's achieved the number one spot in weekly YouTube views.

Even more familiar titles like Silent Hill and Outlast gained mainstream attention largely due to movies, live streams, and videos, reaching audiences far beyond horror enthusiasts.

In contrast, equally excellent titles like the Zero series, Siren, Clock Tower, and The Evil Within remained largely unknown to ordinary players, known only to hardcore horror fans.

Breaking out of the horror enthusiast circle was essential for a horror game to become a commercial hit—and the same principle applied to horror films.

Many players and viewers weren’t true horror fans.

They were simply curious—why could a game or a movie scare people so intensely?

With movies, you couldn’t return your ticket after watching, and although games could be refunded, many players still wouldn’t bother to do so even if they didn’t want to play.

After all, why spend time playing a game just because you bought it?

This was also why completion rates for horror games were generally so low.

Currently, selling 130,000 copies in two days was already impressive.

And Chen Xu knew clearly—this was just the beginning.

As time progressed, sales growth would only accelerate.

Because so far, the热度 on live streaming and video platforms hadn’t reached its peak.

This meant Outlast’s potential was still far from being fully realized.

………………

Just as Chen Xu predicted, Outlast’s popularity hadn’t immediately spread widely among the general player base.

Yet on live streaming platforms, players eager for drama and excitement were already flocking to various live stream rooms.

Streamers stuck in a game drought, lacking good titles to broadcast, were being recommended this newly released game.

"Streamer, try playing Outlast! It’s the new work from the designer of To the Moon—an incredibly heartwarming game!"

"Have you considered trying Outlast? It’s super popular right now!"

"Yeah, yeah! Plus, the show effect is amazing. A streamer from another zone played it, and their viewership broke 3 million. VIPs even doubled!"

Many streamers who didn’t usually follow gaming industry trends were drawn in from all angles.

Some were attracted by the fact that it was the new work of the To the Moon designer; others saw fellow streamers playing Outlast and were impressed by the results.

Regardless of the reason, streamers across the board began diving headfirst into this huge trap called Outlast.

And thus, a storm erupted across the live streaming platforms.

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