"First game… hmm. Average reviews, but playable. Some suspicion of being a reskin, but it counts as a qualified game. It can stay on the platform."
Takayuki printed out a spreadsheet beside his computer.
The sheet listed more than a hundred games related to cyberpunk.
Every one of them used the word "cyberpunk" in its title, followed by a subtitle.
This kind of naming could actually affect Cyberpunk 2077 itself.
For people who didn't know the details, seeing those names would subconsciously make them think all these games came from the same company.
If they then played one and found it bad, they'd naturally develop a dislike toward other games of the same type.
Ayano Tsukino was absolutely right about this—it was very likely to happen.
No… it was almost guaranteed.
Not everyone was rational enough to separate things clearly.
Takayuki marked a check next to the first game and moved on to the second cyberpunk title.
The second game was simply called Cyberpunk 2078.
Takayuki couldn't help but mutter, "Wow, that's shameless."
This wasn't even trying to hide the hype-riding.
There was no need to hesitate or be polite with a title like this—he could just have the legal department deal with it directly.
This was far worse than the first one.
Still, he played it anyway.
About two hours later, Takayuki had gone through the early portion of the game.
It was a Frankenstein monster of a game.
A top-down perspective, gameplay similar to Diablo, yet somehow turn-based, with random encounter mechanics on top of that…
The stitched-together gameplay systems were one thing, but the biggest issue was that the game clearly used many unlicensed models. At this point, it was obvious that this was a blatant reskin.
No need for mercy—Takayuki marked a red X on the spreadsheet. It would be eliminated later.
Next came the third game: a cyberpunk-style rhythm game.
It had minor reskinning, mostly just swapping its original art style for a cyberpunk aesthetic, but the music itself had nothing to do with cyberpunk at all. It was the kind of game clearly made without care.
Takayuki marked another red X.
…
Without realizing it, the time passed to after seven in the evening, and Takayuki was still carefully examining these cyberpunk games one by one.
Just then, the phone rang.
He snapped out of it and glanced at the caller ID—it was his home number.
Only then did Takayuki suddenly remember that he'd planned to go home for dinner… but had completely forgotten once he got absorbed in playing.
He glanced again at the list in his hand.
More than a hundred cyberpunk-themed games. Every single one was riding the hype without shame—but among them were a few with genuine bright spots, games that managed to impress him at least a little.
If he eliminated all of them without thinking, it would be a real blow to those developers.
And now, those better games didn't need to worry about being buried or overlooked.
There were still nearly a hundred games left…
Takayuki thought for a moment, then picked up the phone.
On the other end, Ayano Tsukino's voice was calm. "Finished playing them all yet?"
"Nope. I've only gone through a dozen or so. If I want to play all of them properly, it'll probably take three to five days."
"Then are you coming home?"
"No. You eat without me."
Ayano Tsukino: "...I'll bring food over. Playing that many trash games must be brutal on your mental health. If you don't eat, I'm honestly worried you might drop dead."
Takayuki laughed. "Didn't expect you to get so good at joking."
"I'm not joking. I'm serious."
"Alright, alright. Bring the food over."
Takayuki hung up and immediately dove back into testing the games.
One by one, these games' futures were being decided in his hands.
Every game marked with a red X would be removed directly from the Battle.net platform. All players who had purchased them would receive unconditional refunds, and follow-up legal actions would begin.
Takayuki didn't even know how long he'd been working. He only remembered that at some point, he fell asleep at his desk without realizing it.
When he woke up, it was already daylight.
Beside him were several bento boxes, each partially eaten.
They were brought by Ayano Tsukino. Takayuki couldn't even remember when she'd arrived—she probably saw how busy he was and didn't disturb him, just left the food and went on her way.
He'd eaten a few bites here and there while playing, treating it as dinner.
Takayuki couldn't help but sigh.
It seemed he really was getting older.
Back when he'd first crossed over, he'd had an unspoken "cheat"—he could go seven days and seven nights without rest and still be full of energy.
Now, that was clearly no longer possible. Just one day like this already pushed him to his limit.
Of course, another reason was that these games were genuinely torturous.
If an ordinary person played this many bad games, they'd have quit long ago, cursing the whole way.
Is this even playing games?
This is basically serving a prison sentence!
"I've never suffered this kind of injustice in my life!"
Most people would probably think that.
But Takayuki was remarkably patient.
Good games or bad games—he played every one at least once.
What he enjoyed now wasn't just judging whether a game was good or bad, but the act of playing itself.
Even if that process felt like torture.
So no matter how good his stamina was, Takayuki still couldn't withstand the punishment of so many terrible games and eventually collapsed into sleep.
If it were actual game development work, he felt he could probably still go seven days and nights without rest.
Yeah… probably.
He wasn't entirely sure.
With that thought, Takayuki once again threw himself into testing the games one by one.
During this period, he lived like he was in seclusion—never stepping outside, staying in his office and almost continuously playing those games.
Aside from Ayano Tsukino, no one else came to bother him.
Most matters in the company were already handled by others. At this point, Takayuki could practically act as a hands-off boss and the company still wouldn't collapse.
Yet Takayuki remained deeply passionate about developing games on the front lines.
Even though this world had already reached his earliest dream—video games rising to prominence and becoming mainstream culture—he still hadn't given up on game development.
He still loved making games.
And he still loved playing them.