Lin yuan was born in X city. At the age if 18 he started his developer career. Games like Diablo, Dark sector, Assasin creed, he took part in bringing them to life.
Maybe not as well known to the public, he was a legend in the game developer circles.
At first it was love for games, company worked for the player, bringing joy and fun, but with time they slowly forgot their purpose. Their games predatory, mundane, repetitive.
Until finally he got kicked out. He refused to play by their rules. Refused to taint his love for games and the players trust in him.
*Lin Yuan appartment*
A middle aged mad, about 40 years old could be seen in front of his computer. He slowly put down the controller in his hand on the desk.
Lin Yuan leaned back in his chair, eyes fixed on the frozen game screen. The city outside his apartment window buzzed faintly, indifferent to his frustration. Neon lights reflected against the glass, casting long shadows across the cramped room.
He rubbed his temples.
Once, games had been about challenge, wonder, and discovery. About players losing themselves in worlds crafted with care. Now? Everything was designed to extract just a little more money, a little more patience, a little more goodwill—until nothing was left.
He stood up slowly and walked toward the window.
"They don't even pretend anymore," he muttered. "Daily limits, paid skips, artificial difficulty spikes… all engineered frustration."
Lin Yuan knew the tricks better than anyone. He had helped design systems in the past—systems meant to reward mastery and creativity. Now those same principles were twisted into predatory tools. Retention charts mattered more than fun. Revenue curves mattered more than trust.
And when he refused to compromise, refused to turn games into psychological traps…
They erased him.
A notification blinked on his monitor. Another update. Another "balance adjustment." Another excuse.
Lin Yuan let out a tired laugh.
"Legend, huh?" he said softly. "Only behind closed doors."
He returned to his chair, fingers resting loosely on the controller. The character on-screen stood idle, waiting for input that would never come. His body felt heavy—too heavy. The familiar ache in his chest pulsed dully, something he had ignored for far too long.
Maybe it was exhaustion. Maybe it was just irony.
"If this is the future of games…" his voice trailed off. "Then I'd rather not see it."
The room felt strangely quiet.
The controller slipped from his fingers and clattered onto the desk.
Darkness followed.
Then—
A sharp breath.
Lin Yuan jolted upright.
His heart raced as air filled his lungs, cold and real. He looked around in confusion.
The room was different—smaller, cleaner, unfamiliar. Sunlight streamed through thin curtains.
"…I'm alive?"
He looked down at his hands.
They were steadier. Younger.
His reflection stared back at him from the darkened screen of a laptop—sharp eyes, no wrinkles, no signs of the years that had weighed him down before.
This wasn't his apartment.
Lin Yuan froze.
Then—slowly—he smiled.
"So," he whispered, voice calm for the first time in years, "you're giving me another chance."
Outside, the city continued on, unaware that a man who once shaped the foundations of gaming had returned—this time, with no intention of playing by anyone else's rules.
---
"First, let's fill up my stomach. Then check the news," Lin Yuan muttered, stretching his arms. The apartment was small but tidy, a far cry from the cluttered chaos he remembered in his old appartment. The kitchen was minimal—just a stove, a small sink, and a fridge that hummed faintly.
He opened it. A few eggs, some bread, instant noodles. Not much, but enough. Cooking wasn't something he ever did in his past life, but hunger was persuasive. Within minutes, he had a simple breakfast on a worn tray: boiled eggs, toasted bread, and a cup of weak coffee.
Sitting by the window, he ate slowly, watching people move through the streets below. Cars honked, a cyclist swerved past, a delivery drone zipped between buildings—a world very much alive.
Finishing the last bite, he grabbed his tablet. The news feed scrolled lazily: flashy headlines about new game releases, tournaments, and viral streams. He clicked through a few links, his eyes narrowing with each story.
"Same as always," he muttered under his breath. "Predatory systems, lazy sequels, cash grabs disguised as creativity… and people actually cheering for it."
One video caught his eye. A popular streamer rage-quit a game after spending hours grinding for a pay-to-win weapon. Chat was full of complaints and memes. Lin Yuan smirked.
"Ha… exactly what I expected," he said. "No one remembers why games are fun. They only remember frustration, repetition, and money."
He leaned back, thinking. *This world… it's broken. But I know what to do.*
Then, with a decisive nod, he whispered to himself:
"Time to find someone who actually wants to make a real game."
And with that, he opened a browser and began searching for **game companies that weren't completely soulless**.
---
After about two hours of scrolling through endless flashy sites filled with empty promises, Lin Yuan's eyes finally landed on something… different.
A modest webpage, simple layout, no pop-up ads, no banners begging for microtransactions. Just a logo—**Kristall Games**—and a list of their few releases, each with short, honest descriptions.
"Hmm," he murmured, leaning closer to the screen. "We could give it a try. Looks like they have no investors either. Even better."
He clicked through the contact page and quickly found an email for job inquiries. Typing out a short, confident message was almost reflexive.
*Hello, I'm Lin Yuan. I'm a self made game developer with plenty of experience on personal projects. I'd like to discuss joining Kristall Games and helping work and improve on your projects.*
He paused. *Keep it simple. No need for theatrics.*
With a final tap, he sent it and leaned back. "Now… we wait."
---
Two days later, Lin Yuan found himself standing outside a modest commercial building, its third-floor windows reflecting the afternoon sun. A small, slightly worn sign read *Kristall Games*. The elevator groaned as he ascended, carrying only a backpack and a quiet confidence.
When the doors opened, he stepped into a small office. The space was tight but clean, with a few scattered desks, prototype boards leaning against walls, and a faint smell of coffee.
Behind a neatly organized desk sat a woman, eyes sharp, posture straight, radiating authority despite the cramped space. She glanced up from a stack of papers, assessing him.
"Hello, my name is Lin Yuan" Lin Yuan said smoothly. "I'm the one who applied for a position at Kristall games, I'm here for an interview."
The woman raised an eyebrow, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Yes, I saw your email. I'm Xiao Lin, CEO of Kristall Games. Have a seat," she said, gesturing toward a chair opposite her desk.
Lin Yuan nodded and sat down, his posture relaxed. He glanced around the office again. The team was small, no more than a handful of developers, scattered at their desks, some typing, some staring at screens with furrowed brows.
Xiao Lin folded her hands on the desk and leaned slightly forward. "So… you say you to work and improve our projects. Tell me, what exactly can you do?"
Lin Yuan smiled faintly, his mind already running through the problems he had seen while researching the company.
"I notice patterns in design that most people overlook," he began. "I can identify broken mechanics, streamline gameplay loops. Basically… I fix the problems others may not realize exist yet."
Xiao Lin's lips pressed into a thin line, her
sharp eyes fixed on him. "Bold words. Can you prove it?"
Lin Yuan nodded. "Of course." He stood and walked over to one of the computers, where a prototype of their current project—a small action game—was running.
He leaned over, fingers tapping lightly on the keyboard, eyes scanning the screen with a precision that made the developers around him pause their work. "Here," he said, pointing to an enemy character that was frozen in place. "The AI doesn't react to player actions consistently."
" Here too, the combo system is disjointed. A simple tweak in the input buffer and timing windows will make attacks flow naturally, giving the player both control and satisfaction."
Xiao Lin stayed silent, watching him carefully. After a moment, she leaned back in her chair and exhaled slowly. "You're hired."
Lin Yuan nodded faintly, returning to his chair with a calm confidence that somehow unsettled the room. The developers glanced at each other, a mixture of awe and skepticism in their expressions.