The Game Director Who Returned from Hell - Chapter 3 (Part 1):
The project is steadily coming together.
From selecting the genre to choosing the game engine, establishing the basic concept and gameplay mechanics, designing characters and system structures, all the way to setting the overall volume.
At that moment when everything was completed, I could finally take a breath.
‘First, the brainstorming is over.’
Now, it’s time to dive into the preparations for actual production.
It was a challenging process.
From budgeting to execution plans, everything was like that.
Game development, in its essence, is not something that can be accomplished solely with passion.
Fundamentally, games are complex media that require interactive elements of various media types.
They demand experts from different fields to work together in harmony, necessitating a cohesive collaborative process.
Even in the case of solo development.
Since I couldn’t do everything alone, I had to fill the gaps even if it meant outsourcing.
The core aspects of development are planning, programming, and art.
Thankfully, I could handle two out of three on my own.
‘Planning is done. I can handle the programming.’
My university major is programming.
It’s not from an insignificant university either; I graduated at the top of my class from a prestigious university in the metropolitan area.
I have a fair amount of programming knowledge beyond the academic curriculum. Additionally, the experience gained during my days of solo development provides enough expertise to not require immediate assistance in programming.
So, only one thing remained.
‘···Art.’
As someone not particularly skilled in the arts, I urgently needed help with this aspect.
No matter how excellent the gameplay and structural design are, if the visuals fall short, wouldn’t the game appear subpar?
To the extent that when crafting the [Identity], I even outsourced this art.
This time, its significance is magnified.
‘The key to this project is its visuals.’
Not just this time, but the most essential element for all future projects is visuals.
How well we can vividly and eerily bring forth the landscapes of hell is crucial.
Hence, rushing the depiction of characters is not an option.
Furthermore, a reliable companion for the long run is required.
Even for the future’s sake, it’s best to avoid haphazardly changing the art style.
‘Famous individuals are already difficult to approach.’
Even at this stage, there are quite a few art directors acclaimed for their work in the horror genre.
However, I feel inadequate to recruit such individuals immediately.
So, what needs to be considered are those who aren’t famous now.
Yet, someone whose abilities are bound to shine in the future.
My train of thought didn’t stretch too far.
The prospect of possessing knowledge from the future is truly heartwarming.
‘There’s exactly one.’
Not someone present now, but an individual who will achieve greatness a decade from now.
In this city of Seoul, and not too far away, at that.
It was during the early 2020s when I hadn’t fully committed to resigning.
-Wow, a Korean art director made it to GOTY (Game of the Year). The national pride is overwhelming.
-Well, they did a good job.
-True, right? The idea might have come from the director, but that person brought it to life, right? How did they even come up with such descriptions?
-That’s why they must be a genius.
That year marked the emergence of a masterpiece that would leave a lasting impact on the console gaming industry.
Acknowledged solely for its gameplay, it rightfully earned praise as an exceptional work. It was a masterpiece of unprecedented proportions that no one could surpass until the day I was on my deathbed.
[Lost Kingdom]
Throughout the year, it was the name that swept the Game of the Year awards.
In gaming history, there were many games with higher sales than this one. There were also games with more significant implications.
Nevertheless, the reason this game was acclaimed as a unique masterpiece that couldn’t be replaced in the past or future was clear.
– Wow, the visuals are mind-blowing. Seriously.
Art.
Amid all the elements, the one reason that stood out was art.
It showcased awe-inspiring landscapes that captivated the eyes every moment, thanks to its open-world RPG setting—a true artistic masterpiece that couldn’t be ignored.
Some were horrifying, some delicate, and others grandiose.
Players encountered new sensations and beauty with every step through that world, interacting with all its elements.
This led to a level of immersion so deep that it felt as though players were truly within the game’s world.
Those who played the game all said the same thing.
– I got so immersed that I played the game even in my dreams that night. It seems I’ll live like this for a while.
I was the same.
Already deeply interested in console games, I played the game brimming with anticipation, and its impact even caused disruptions in my project for a while.
In fact, I still recall that game.
The shock of the first day I played, where the depiction of the hellish landscapes was so vivid it penetrated my mind, is still with me.
At any rate, in a world where such a game was created, there was only one clear contender for the one who accomplished that feat—the art director, Han Seo-rim.
It was undoubtedly a departure from the usual path.
After all, isn’t the focus of game production generally on the creative director?
Considering the position the overall director of the game held in the industry, credit should have naturally gone to them. However, she managed to capture that attention.
The incident where the interest in the game’s art director threatened the status of the creative director was, as far as I remember, both the first and last of its kind in the history of game production.
– It won’t happen again, right? A single game taking all the art awards for the year.
– I can’t guarantee that. But I don’t think it’ll happen within 10 years.
Throughout that year, she dominated all the game industry’s art awards.
Online communities were abuzz with inquiries about her identity, revealing the truth: she was a Korean woman in her thirties. And the game she created marked her debut in the gaming industry.
Two keywords combined to form a single word: ‘genius.’
Numerous international webzines sent their praise, often mingling jest with the sentiment “Indeed, games are made in Korea.” Major game companies spared no effort in attempting to recruit her.
The same went for my country, South Korea, and the company I was in.
With a talented director being Korean, it was only natural to test the waters.
Of course, it was a failed attempt.
– I wouldn’t come either. Why live as a salaried worker in the remote island of the domestic game market?”
South Korea is a market centered around mobile and online markets, built on a venomous business model. In other words, it’s a barren land where AAA games can’t thrive.
Moreover, given her stature in the industry, the salary a domestic company could offer her was pathetically inadequate.
In any case, to cut to the chase, that was how it was.
She didn’t go anywhere.
No, she completely stepped away from the industry after that game.
The reason remains unclear to this day, but anyway, the point to focus on now is one thing.
Han Seo-rim, the mother of [Lost Kingdom].
A legend of the industry who appeared like a comet, leaving behind only one masterpiece before disappearing.
She is the person I need to recruit.
Fortunately, I didn’t need to ponder on how to find her.
– Come to think of it, she’s an alumna of our team leader.
– Alumna? What are you talking about? I’ve never seen her even once at school. Our majors were different to begin with.
-If you went to the same school, you are an alumnus.
She is a junior at the same school as me.
A bright-eyed freshman from the Class of ’08, majoring in design.