No matter what world you're in, you can always believe in the creativity of players.
The most classic example would be The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim.
Beyond its exceptional gameplay quality, what made the game truly legendary was the vast community of creative players. Out of pure passion, without any financial incentive, they produced mod after mod of fascinating content—and Takayuki hoped to inspire something similar in this world.
The zombie mode for Counter-Strike was officially released, positioned as a tutorial for modifying a game.
Aiko and Oto-chan had successfully enrolled at the University of Tokyo this year.
It boasted an excellent computer science program. Aiko chose it to pursue deeper development in game programming, while Oto-chan aimed to become a jack-of-all-trades.
As for Kazumi, she had the weakest grades among the three. Even with her friends' help, she couldn't get into her ideal university. Still, she stayed in Tokyo and enrolled in a slightly lower-tier art university.
Since her career path was always in the arts, and the three schools were all fairly close to one another, she didn't feel too disappointed.
...
...
Not long after starting college, the three of them regrouped and formed a brand-new hobby group.
Actually—this time, it was a real game development studio.
Back in high school, they, along with Tanaka and a few other game enthusiasts, had created an indie game that made it onto the Battle.net platform as one of its 1,000+ titles.
The game was called Farm Defense Wars, a tower defense-style title infused with farming elements. Players gathered resources through farming to support frontline defenses—building walls, setting up ballistas, and recruiting adventurers like wizards or ninjas to fight off waves of monsters.
Perhaps due to the girls' naturally detail-oriented personalities, the game's art style and mechanics had a gentle, relaxing charm. It played comfortably.
Thanks to its distinctive vibe, the game sold over 30,000 copies, which made the group absolutely ecstatic.
That became their first real revenue.
So, after graduating high school and entering college, the trio wasted no time forming their very own game studio.
Whenever they had no classes, they'd gather there to discuss their next game project.
By now, they were already pretty professional with game development—and had even nailed down the direction for their next title.
"So I think we should add farming elements again."
"Wait, hold on—this is supposed to be a zombie defense game. Why farming?! Isn't that basically Farm Defense Wars all over again?"
"I actually think that sounds great. Farming and zombies? That's bound to sell."
"I swear your brain is stuck on farming! We agreed—each of us gets one full turn to decide the game's theme and mechanics. This time it's my turn, so don't mess with it!"
"You're the one who's stuck! I just wanted to add a mechanic. What's wrong with farming? It's fun and relaxing! Look at the stats from Farm Defense Wars—average playtime was over ten hours, mostly thanks to the farming elements. Clearly, people love it!"
"I don't care what the stats say. As long as it's my project, there's no farming. Unless the game flops—you just focus on art."
As always, Oto-chan and Kazumi were bickering.
Aiko, used to this dynamic, quietly scrolled through her computer while they argued.
It was the same during their last game too—Oto-chan wanted to cut the farming mechanics, but Kazumi had creative control and insisted on keeping them.
Who knew why this city girl who'd never touched a real crop was so obsessed with farming gameplay?
Still, they never took these arguments personally. Disagreements had been a part of their friendship for over a decade, and their bond never wavered. That was a blessing.
While waiting for the argument to die down, Aiko noticed a new update notification for Battle.net.
Among the listed changes were several new features:
Added Creative Workshop, where players can freely modify open-source games and create their own game worlds.
Added discussion groups for players to gather and talk about games.
Added more achievement systems for various games.
...
This was a much bigger update than usual.
Previous updates usually had one or two changes, mostly about stability. But this time, there were over ten items—and the first one was in bold, clearly drawing attention.
"Creative Workshop?" Aiko muttered curiously.
She wasn't sure what it was exactly.
Still, she clicked update. She'd find out once it finished installing.
Meanwhile, the other two were still going at it—neither willing to back down.
When the update finished, Aiko entered the refreshed Battle.net platform.
Immediately, a new dialog box popped up.
It was a promotional message for the Creative Workshop feature, visible to every Battle.net user.
Aiko read through it carefully—and quickly grasped what it was for.
It allowed players to modify the rules and logic of open-source games. The goal was to empower players to freely create and enjoy inventing their own gameplay.
Wait… wasn't this basically a simplified game development tool?
She instantly understood the purpose behind the Creative Workshop.
It seemed you couldn't directly sell your creations made in it—but once you had a solid game base, adjusting logic and gameplay became significantly easier.
The promotional screen even included a link to a brand-new mod tutorial page.
Aiko clicked into it—only to find none other than Takayuki himself onscreen.
He was dressed in a white lab coat, looking very much like a scientist.
"Hello, everyone! Welcome to the Battle.net Creative Workshop Lab. Here, you'll get to experience a brand-new form of interactive entertainment. We hope this new format inspires more creative gameplay and fun."