The District 9 Game Awards Ceremony was the most prestigious event in the regional entertainment calendar. It was held at the Grand Aurora Hall, a massive structure of glass and steel that had been rebuilt from the ruins of an old museum.
Tonight, the hall was ablaze with light. Limousines pulled up to the red carpet, dropping off executives in designer suits and celebrities in dazzling gowns. The air outside was thick with the flash of cameras and the hum of drones broadcasting the event live to millions.
Zhong Ming stepped out of a modest company van, adjusting his collar. He wore the same black suit he had worn to the board meeting. It was clean and pressed, but compared to the shimmering fabrics around him, he looked like a shadow among peacocks.
Beside him, Wang Hao looked like he was about to throw up. Lin Yue was trembling, clutching a small handbag. Only Old Zhang seemed unbothered, chewing on a toothpick with a bored expression.
"Look at them," Wang Hao whispered, staring at the entrance where the team from *Cyber-Soldier 3* was posing for photos. "They have a live orchestra playing their theme song. We have... me."
"Confidence, Wang Hao," Zhong Ming said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "We aren't here to look pretty. We're here to win."
As they walked down the red carpet, the atmosphere shifted. The reporters, sensing fresh blood, swarmed them.
"Mr. Zhong! Your game has sold 200,000 copies in a week! How do you respond to critics who say it's just a 'short-lived fad'?"
"Is it true you only programmed for 256KB because you couldn't afford more memory?"
Zhong Ming stopped in front of the main camera drone. He smiled calmly.
"We didn't use 256KB because we were poor," Zhong Ming said clearly. "We used it because that's all we needed to create a world. The question shouldn't be why our file size is so small. The question should be why everyone else's is so big."
Before the reporters could follow up, a smooth voice interrupted.
"Trying to spin a limitation into a feature? That's bold, Zhong Ming."
Chen Xu approached, flanked by his entourage of PR managers and marketing directors. He looked impeccable in a silver-grey suit that shimmered with fiber-optic threading.
"Chen Xu," Zhong Ming acknowledged him with a nod.
"I saw the nominations list," Chen Xu said, his voice low enough that only they could hear. "Best Technical Achievement. You really think a 2D sprite engine compares to our real-time global illumination physics?"
"Your physics engine is impressive," Zhong Ming admitted. "But it's empty. It's a glass house. My game is a brick house. It stands on its own."
Chen Xu laughed, a polite, hollow sound. "We'll see what the judges think. Enjoy the show. Try not to look too shocked when you lose. The industry has standards, after all."
Chen Xu walked away, his team parting the crowd like a wedge.
"He's so smug," Lin Yue gritted her teeth. "I want to wipe that smile off his face."
"We will," Zhong Ming said. "Let's go inside."
***
The auditorium was massive. A giant holographic stage dominated the center, surrounded by thousands of seats. The Division B team was escorted to their seats—not in the front rows with the VIPs, but in the back corner, near the exit. The "budget" section.
The lights dimmed. The show began.
For the first hour, it was a parade of the status quo. Awards for Best Sound Design, Best Art Direction (which went to *Warfront*), Best VR Experience. Every winner gave a speech thanking the technology, the engines, the processors.
Finally, the host, a famous celebrity with a holographic suit, walked to the center stage.
"And now, the category that defines the cutting edge of our industry," the host announced. "Best Technical Achievement. This award recognizes the game that pushes the boundaries of hardware capability and engineering excellence."
The screen behind him lit up with the nominees.
**1. Cyber-Soldier 3:** *For real-time ray-tracing on console hardware.*
**2. Warfront: Siege:** *For server-side physics synchronization supporting 64 players.*
**3. Pocket Monsters:** *For 8-bit rendering and data compression.*
A ripple of laughter went through the audience when *Pocket Monsters* appeared on the screen. It looked like a joke sandwiched between two technological titans.
"The winner is..." The host opened the envelope.
He paused. He looked at the card, then back at the screen, confused.
"The winner is... *Pocket Monsters*!"
The laughter stopped. Silence swept through the hall.
Zhong Ming stood up.
"What?" Wang Hao hissed, grabbing Zhong Ming's arm. "Is this a mistake? Did they read the wrong name?"
"It's not a mistake," Zhong Ming said, though he was surprised. He hadn't expected the judges to actually look past the graphics. Perhaps the sheer mathematical elegance of Wang Hao's code had impressed at least one engineer on the panel.
Zhong Ming walked down the aisle. He could feel the stares. Some were curious, many were hostile. He climbed the stairs to the stage and took the heavy crystal trophy from the host.
He walked to the microphone. The silence was heavy.
"Thank you," Zhong Ming said. "I know many of you are surprised. I saw the clips. *Pocket Monsters* doesn't look like 'technology' to you. It looks like the past."
He looked out at the sea of faces, spotting Chen Xu in the front row, his expression dark as a thundercloud.
"But let me tell you what technology is," Zhong Ming continued, his voice gaining strength. "Technology isn't about how many polygons you can push before the frame rate drops. It's not about how much space you can waste on a hard drive."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a *Pocket Monsters* cartridge. He held it up between two fingers.
"This cartridge holds 256 kilobytes. That is less than the size of a single texture file in *Warfront*. Yet, inside this, there is a world. There are 151 unique entities. There is a combat system with over 100 moves. There is an AI that challenges you. There is a battery backup system that remembers your journey for years."
He leaned into the mic.
"If *Warfront* is a mansion built on a foundation of sand, expensive and fragile... then *Pocket Monsters* is a fortress built on a diamond. We did more with less. That is the true spirit of engineering. That is the future of gaming in a world still rebuilding its resources."
He lowered the cartridge.
"The industry has become bloated. You chase graphics while forgetting gameplay. You chase realism while forgetting the dream. I accept this award not for the past, but for a future where efficiency and creativity matter more than budget and polygons."
Zhong Ming turned and walked off the stage, leaving a stunned silence behind him.
And then, from the back of the room—where the students, the fans, and the smaller developers sat—a single clap broke the silence.
Then another. Then a dozen.
Slowly, the applause grew. It wasn't the polite applause for the big corporate winners. It was raw, loud, and defiant. The underdog had spoken.
***
Backstage, Zhong Ming let out a long breath. His hands were slightly shaking. He had taken a risk, calling out the industry like that.
**[System Notification: Task Update.]**
**[Current Task: Win Game of the Year.]**
**[Progress: Morale Boosted. Public perception shifting.]**
**[Reward Pending...]**
As he walked towards the green room, the door opened, and Li Cheng rushed out, his face pale.
"Zhong Ming! That speech... it was dangerous," Li Cheng whispered, looking around frantically. "You just insulted half the board members whose companies make those 'bloated' games."
"I spoke the truth," Zhong Ming said.
"The truth doesn't pay the bills," Li Cheng hissed. "But that's not why I'm here. The final category is coming up. Game of the Year."
"I know."
"The judges... there are rumors," Li Cheng said, grabbing Zhong Ming's arm. "Chen Xu is backstage right now. He's furious about the Technical Award. He's lobbying hard. He's promising advertising deals to the sponsors to influence the vote. He wants to humiliate you on the main stage."
Zhong Ming's eyes narrowed. "Let him try."
"If you lose Game of the Year after winning Technical Achievement, the narrative will be that you're a 'one-trick pony' who got lucky with code but can't make a 'real' game," Li Cheng warned. "Are you ready for that?"
Zhong Ming looked at the trophy in his hand. It felt heavy. But he knew the weight of *Game of the Year* would be heavier.
"I didn't come here to win a technical award," Zhong Ming said, his eyes burning with determination. "I came to take the throne."
He handed the trophy to Wang Hao, who had just run over.
"Hold this," Zhong Ming said. "I need both hands free for the next one."
The speakers in the hallway crackled as the host's voice boomed through the venue.
"And now... the moment you've all been waiting for. Game of the Year."
Zhong Ming straightened his tie. It was time for the final battle.