So this mysterious online benefactor can make games too?
No, maybe he didn't know how to make games at first — he probably picked up some development skills over all these years.
Judging from the visuals of this game, it was most likely made by him alone, because the graphics looked very simple, even to the point of being crude.
In this era where game visuals are becoming more and more refined, a game like this looks particularly rough.
Murakami Kazuo immediately tried to contact this online benefactor using Battlenet's internal messaging system. He left a string of messages, but there was no reply.
He wasn't too worried about that — not everyone can sit in front of a computer 24/7. In this regard, the internet wasn't as convenient as mobile phones. Though some companies had started exploring the potential of mobile networks, perhaps in the future newer communication methods would become available.
Since he couldn't get in touch, Murakami Kazuo decided to go ahead and buy the game first and try it out to see what it was like.
The game wasn't expensive — only 1,700 yen. It was a price most people could afford, about the cost of a regular steak.
...
...
But the game's visuals made people feel it wasn't quite worth the price. For the same amount, one could buy a game from Gamestar Electronic Entertainment's first-party lineup with better graphics.
Still, the music was nice — quite relaxing. It made people naturally want to unwind.
Murakami Kazuo had already finished downloading the game and entered its world.
He had a special kind of anticipation for this game. After all, the mysterious online benefactor had disappeared for so long and now suddenly reappeared. What kind of game had he created?
As a game review media outlet, testing games was also part of the job — especially when Murakami Kazuo personally chose to play one, and it wasn't even made by someone famous. Just someone who had always been both familiar and mysterious to him.
A mysterious netizen who had never revealed their true identity but whose name had always circulated within the company.
Other staff members in the company were also curious about the game made by this mysterious figure. Although the graphics were indeed rough, maybe it would be like having a simple seaweed soup after eating too many rich dishes — a palette cleanser.
A few people gathered around Murakami Kazuo as he began to play the game.
"Senpai, this looks like it'll be a turn-based adventure game, right? Stardew Valley — that's a nice name."
"Huh? It's actually not turn-based? A turn-based system would've made the most sense here."
"Hmm? Is that… a hoe?"
On Murakami Kazuo's computer screen, a crude little character was swinging a hoe in a full 360-degree motion, tilling a small section of the field — the loosened soil marked the tilled land.
So this was just a farming game?
What… what's fun about this?
Everyone began asking questions — their heads full of question marks.
Farming, mining, and chopping trees — all of it seemed pretty boring and tedious. Just how much free time would someone need to turn these into core gameplay mechanics?
Would anyone really enjoy such dull and repetitive gameplay?
Three or four people who had gathered behind Murakami Kazuo quietly walked away.
If this game had been developed by Gamestar Electronic Entertainment, maybe they wouldn't have left so directly. But this was a game made by an unknown person — and a farming game at that. They truly couldn't understand what was fun about it.
So it was better to just leave and not waste time. They had their own game review articles to write and didn't have time to spend on such a boring game.
Even though three or four people left, the others patiently continued watching Murakami Kazuo play.
Under Murakami Kazuo's control, the character had already finished tilling a small patch of land. Next came sowing seeds, then watering them — the day's work was done.
With nothing else to do, Murakami Kazuo guided the character around Pelican Town, wandering aimlessly. Before long, night had fallen, and the character had to return home to sleep and prepare for the next day.
This… was definitely kind of boring. If every day was just farming and sowing, Murakami Kazuo couldn't figure out where the charm of this game was supposed to be.
It left him slightly disappointed. It seemed this mysterious benefactor had only made the game as a personal interest — not something that delivered truly great content.
He couldn't help but laugh at himself. Just moments ago, he'd naively imagined this mysterious benefactor to be some genius with extraordinary talent — someone as impressive as his second idol, Takayuki. But in the end, people's abilities were limited; no one could do everything.
Still, the game was quite complete. It ran smoothly and presented its full experience without lag — which was rare for someone with no previous game development experience.
Even more impressive was that there were hardly any bugs. That was very rare.
It seemed this mysterious benefactor must be working at some game company now — already quite familiar with the development process. This game felt like a reflection of the knowledge and skills picked up on the job.
The more Murakami Kazuo thought about it, the more certain he became.
Still, he continued playing.
At that point, another two or three people had left. In the end, only one person remained behind Murakami Kazuo, staring at his screen without blinking.
"Senpai, senpai! Look, the plants in the field are fully grown!"
While Murakami Kazuo was deep in thought and playing the game, one of the staff behind him suddenly spoke up, a little excited.
Murakami Kazuo came back to his senses and saw that his character had already passed several in-game days. After those few days, the crops had matured and were ready for harvest.
They grew so fast? That wasn't very realistic.
Of course, games like this couldn't be 100% realistic. No one would want to wait months for their crops to grow. That would be even more boring. It seemed the mysterious benefactor understood that, so they had shortened the growth time of crops.
Murakami Kazuo immediately moved the character into the field and began harvesting.
One by one, the mature crops entered the inventory.
He wasn't sure why, but at the moment those crops entered the backpack, Murakami Kazuo felt a strange sense of satisfaction.
It was a feeling no other game had ever given him.