"Is the camera rolling?"
"Yes, Mr. Takayuki, we've started recording. What should we do next?"
"Just quietly record the entire process of me developing this game. Don't miss a single minute. I'll leave the editing work to you as well."
"Please don't be so formal, Mr. Takayuki. This is our job after all — and it's an honor to live alongside a pioneer of the industry like you."
At the headquarters of Gamestar Electronic Entertainment, Takayuki had prepared a private room just for himself.
He wasn't being secretive about it either. He had openly told the company staff exactly what he planned to do.
However, he asked those in the know not to tell anyone else during this period — because he wanted to prove something:That even without the name of Takayuki, even without consoles or handhelds — the dominant platforms — people in this world could still discover and fall in love with Stardew Valley.
Right now, Takayuki's name in the game industry was thunderously well-known.
…
…
If a game had even the slightest association with him, it would instantly receive massive attention — a terrifying level of influence.
No one else in the world wielded such power.
So if he truly wanted to prove the value of indie games, he couldn't use his own name. He couldn't even use mainstream platforms to promote it.
Thankfully, the PC platform was not yet mainstream. Takayuki also hoped that his own Battlenet-style PC platform would one day gain wide recognition and become the largest hub for indie games. This was a perfect opportunity to start.
That was the general outline of Takayuki's plan.
The staff were shocked by his decision.
Their company president wasn't going to rely on anyone — not for programming, not for art, not for music. He was doing it all himself.
It seemed almost impossible. Could something like this really succeed?
And yet… there was a strange sense of excitement building in the air.
At the same time, Takayuki had asked Tsukino Aya to inform the three girls about his solo project and invite them to observe him working on the game.
Since their studies weren't too intense at the moment, a development period of one to two months wouldn't interfere too much with school.
Only by seeing Takayuki develop a game entirely on his own would the girls truly understand the meaning of game creation.
Of course, the documentary would still happen — this would later be shown to others. But Takayuki didn't want to release it immediately. He planned to unveil it at the right time — after he'd developed a few more quality indie games under his anonymous username.
Revealing too much too early wouldn't be ideal.
Within the company, it wasn't hard to ensure secrecy. Takayuki's employees held immense admiration for him. If he asked for confidentiality, they would obey without hesitation.
And the three girls certainly wouldn't leak anything either. They were eager to see whether Takayuki could maintain his legendary game development prowess without using his name, any help, or even a mainstream platform.
This was Takayuki's way of personally proving to them that game development didn't have to mean big budgets and massive teams.
The filming crew came from TV Tokyo.
They had been personally assigned by Director Kubo to follow Takayuki for the documentary. When to release it, how to edit it — all of that was left up to Takayuki. The crew members themselves also wouldn't leak anything.
Once everything was in place, Takayuki officially began his solo development journey.
Sitting alone in front of his PC, he was silent for a moment. Behind him were countless watchful eyes — his own employees, the film crew, and the three girls.
Takayuki seemed completely at ease under their gaze.
In his previous life, he would've been extremely nervous in a situation like this.
But now, his heart was calm. All he could think about were the familiar scenes from Stardew Valley.
Back then, he'd been deeply immersed in the game — lost in its small town and farm, willingly living the same repetitive daily loop, telling himself "just one more day" before bed.
He opened his eyes, turned on his computer, and launched the familiar Unreal Engine interface.
Under his guidance, the Unreal Engine in this world had evolved to include many powerful features — far beyond what it was in his previous life.
Now, it was the go-to engine for countless developers.
Notably, his version of the Unreal Engine also had excellent 2D game development capabilities — something the original engine had lacked.
Back then, Stardew Valley was developed entirely through low-level programming — one of the reasons why it took so long.
But Takayuki would be using a fully mature game engine now, which would significantly reduce the development time.
Behind him, all eyes remained fixed on the screen as Takayuki began to construct the world of his game.
A simple, flat 2D village gradually took shape.
There were no hills or terrain — just a flat landscape rendered in a minimal 2D style.
Some developers blinked, their expressions puzzled.
They knew full well: if Takayuki went all-out, he could create visuals far beyond this. With the power of the Unreal Engine, it wouldn't even be difficult.
So why was he choosing such a simple 2D look?
But there was one clear benefit: the three girls could easily follow along. Takayuki intentionally avoided complex, professional tools, opting instead for intuitive, visual-based interfaces. Even without his explanations, the girls could observe and understand enough to start building their own similar game worlds.
Still… it looked too basic, didn't it?
Could such a rough-looking 2D game really become popular?
Or was this just Takayuki's way of cheering the girls on? A lesson to remind them not to overreach? That it's okay to start small — to build a solid foundation before aiming higher?
The girls understood that lesson already. Everyone has to take it step by step. It wasn't something Takayuki needed to teach them again.
But watching him develop a game alone, right in front of their eyes — that was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
This was a gesture from their idol — and they would cherish it.