Promotion. If it's bad, promote it. If it's good, promote it even harder. In this era, you can't do without hype. And as the king of showmanship, Liu A'dou knew better than anyone how important it was.
A lot had happened in the past month. Harry Osborn had sent his father to a nursing home and officially taken over the company. His very first collaboration with Liu A'dou was to build a brainwave transmitter—a device that let human senses dive into the "game," in other words, equipment that connected to Ruyi Heaven.
Each unit cost 30 dollars to produce, but sold for 300. Just in North America, they expected to move a million units. A guaranteed profit. Harry was determined to make this his first big victory as head of the group.
North America first, then worldwide. Even conservative estimates put global sales at 5 million units.
And since Ruyi Heaven as a server didn't cost them a dime, this business was pure profit.
With Liu A'dou's name attached and the tagline of "the world's first panoramic virtual game," they already had two big hooks to pull in crowds. On top of that, early access testers—veteran gamers—had played and posted reviews.
The verdict was unanimous: realistic, fun, and highly playable. These weren't critics who threw out perfect scores lightly. Their praise made gamers everywhere burn with curiosity—what kind of game was this really?
"It's just 300 dollars, I'll buy it."
The helmets were sold even before the servers went live. The game itself was set to officially launch on Christmas.
Watching sales climb higher and higher, Harry couldn't stop smiling. He had told the board he would move 1 million devices before Christmas, and now it was about to come true.
Liu A'dou kept the momentum going. He got Elsa to be the celebrity spokesperson and sing the theme song. The hype was relentless, pushing the game's popularity into a whole new stratosphere.
"Hello, Big Player, thanks for joining Game Weekly for this interview."
"I'm honored." The gamer known online as "Big Player" was a famous American guide-writer. He had written the first walkthroughs for many major titles. His guides were not only precise but witty, making him a fan favorite.
"This interview is about the game that only a select few have had the chance to try so far, the one directed and planned by the famous Liu A'dou—Mecha Infantry. I know you, as a top guide writer, got to test it early. What are your thoughts?"
"My thoughts?" Big Player looked like the question was hard to answer. "The first word is shock." He remembered the start of the game—how else could you describe it?
"Shock? That's not what we usually hear in game reviews."
"Yeah, shock—because Mecha Infantry is a completely different kind of game."
"But virtual games aren't new. It's not really the first, despite the marketing. I remember seeing one at the Metropolis Game Expo. That game was the real first panoramic VR, wasn't it?"
"You mean Deep Space Travel. That so-called 'virtual game' was fake VR. I bought the game pod and tried it—it was awful. No sense of immersion at all. I can guarantee Mecha Infantry is ten thousand times better. In realism alone, it completely outclasses Deep Space Travel. This is the true panoramic VR experience."
That earlier title had been slammed by players. It was just a bed-mounted console, nothing close to VR. Bad word of mouth, bad sales. Mecha Infantry, though, was the opposite—its reputation was through the roof.
"Can you reveal anything about the gameplay?"
"The trial content wasn't much, but I can say it was unlike anything before. I really felt like I was on the battlefield, like I was a brave mecha infantryman." Big Player added, "And like the ads say, infantry are the most passionate soldiers. The raw, direct fighting is the truest show of courage."
He still didn't go into details, but from his expression, the reporter could tell—normal review language wasn't enough to describe it.
"In the game, players wear mecha suits and charge into battle. And with Liu A'dou writing the story, the game's drama is on par with a movie. I strongly recommend everyone try it. I've already bought sets for all my friends, and when it goes live, we'll all jump in together."
"As you say, players are hyped for Mecha Infantry and reviews are sky-high. So when people play it, what should they watch out for?"
Big Player laughed. "I hope everyone can stay calm."
The massive publicity push paid off. By Christmas, over 3 million sets of game equipment had been sold. The game was finally about to begin.
Zhou Tong was an international student. With Christmas break here, he had no tradition of celebrating, so he stocked up on food a few days in advance, ready to spend the holiday holed up at home. He'd been in America for 3 years, had seen all the sights he wanted, and decided not to go out this year—traveling during Christmas was just too inconvenient.
Bored over the long holiday and with money to spare, he bought himself a Mecha Infantry helmet. Back in China, he had been a gamer, but after moving abroad without friends to play with, he'd gradually stopped. Still, the relentless advertising for Mecha Infantry had stirred his itch again.
On Christmas Eve, he stayed up all night, waiting for the servers to open.
Christmas Day. Mecha Infantry officially met its players.
Following the manual's instructions, Zhou Tong closed his eyes and felt as if his soul had flown out of him into a whole new world.
When he opened them again, he wasn't on his sofa anymore. He was lying inside a cryo pod. Right in front of him was a display screen showing his current status, almost identical to his real condition.
The screen also had options to customize his appearance. Gender couldn't be changed, but looks could. It was just a game—details like that didn't matter much.
Then came the name entry. Zhou Tong simply typed the pinyin of his own name.
Once everything was set, the game began. The cryo pod hatch slid open, and a flood of chaotic sounds rushed into his ears. The pod had been completely soundproof, so stepping out was overwhelming. What stunned him even more was the sight before his eyes—an endless sea of cryo pods, with people pouring out by the millions.
In past games, avatars could overlap, no matter how many players there were—they'd all cram into a tiny space. But not here. This was full simulation. One body took up one body's worth of space. Now, with millions of players in the same place, the sheer scale was terrifying.
Soon they realized that no matter how attractive opposite-sex avatars looked, you couldn't touch them. And if same-sex avatars touched, after a few seconds they'd automatically be pushed apart.
A safety measure. Reasonable, too—otherwise griefers could cause real trouble.
Zhou Tong felt relieved. With all the recent talk of too much same-sex harassment, even guys weren't safe anymore. At least here there were limits.
Every avatar wore the same jumpsuit, the only difference being the name badge on the chest. Names weren't floating over heads but printed normally on those badges.
"Welcome to the frontlines of War Zone 8. Please follow local rules and proceed to the appropriate exit to leave the ship."
What?! This massive space was only the spaceship? Zhou Tong froze at the announcement. Then he saw the arrows on the overhead display pointing to exits. That was the way out.
There were a lot of people, but plenty of exits too. Once they calmed down, players began moving in order, following the guidance off the ship. Zhou Tong followed the flow through Exit 88, stepping out of the vessel.