Chapter 938: Chapter 512 It Finally Arrived_2 Chapter 938: Chapter 512 It Finally Arrived_2 But because of this, the impact of this game was terrifying.

It was no longer just a game, it was a work of art, something worthy of being highlighted in the annals of game history.

Even just being a part of this game was considered a supreme honor for those working in the gaming industry.

It would be a monument, a legend.

After watching the trailer, Huang Ping had this game on his mind constantly.

He thought about it while walking, while sleeping, after returning home, and even while his father-in-law came over for drinks–waking up to find himself hugging his father-in-law’s dog, his first thought wasn’t “What did I do to the dog?” but rather “Can I incorporate this drunken state into the new game?”

And the only person more obsessed than him was Xiao Douzi.

Since watching the demo, Xiao Douzi hadn’t said a single word.

He went about his work in silence from the moment he arrived, his frail body swaying as if on the verge of collapse, making Huang Ping think he had died suddenly on several occasions.

Fang Cheng had no choice but to go to his workstation several times, pat his back, and then let him continue working.

Monkey became intensely focused on the game’s combat system; he dreamed about how to make the battle moves cooler, what the predictive moves should be, and how these could be paired up.

A single game had driven everyone’s enthusiasm to its peak, and they were working on it as if burning their own lives away, forcing Fang Cheng to pull them back from near-death states multiple times.

Everyone put their full effort into perfecting the game, but the game’s flaws were also laid bare.

It was too big.

Although Fang Cheng had laid out the path, everything in the game needed continuous balancing, player data had to be tweaked bit by bit, and the workload in all areas was enormous.

Huang Ping and others were caught up in the flow of work, so they hadn’t felt it yet.

But for the players, it was torture.

A month after the text preview of the game was released, Fang Cheng Studio had almost no news.

Uneasy voices began to ferment; every day at Game Inn, people came to check in as usual and then asked the routine question:
“Is the game out yet?”

A month later, the players’ question changed to:
“Is there a demo for the game yet?”

Another month passed, and the question was downgraded again:
“There’s got to be a trailer now, right?”

And another month later, the question had become almost pitiable:
“There’s got to be a name at least, right?”

Unfortunately, despite half a year having passed, there was still no news of the game.

The usually productive Fang Cheng Studio seemed to have disappeared overnight, and without a new game, they could only repeatedly revisit old games, looking for any clue of the new game.

The players were in deep mourning, but other game developers were popping champagne bottles; the days dominated by Fang Cheng seemed to be over, and now it was their time to shine.

From anticipation to despair, from despair to anger, and from anger to resignation, a year had passed, and the players’ mentality had become incredibly Zen. They just checked in every day as usual and then didn’t care anymore.

They had already waited a year, so they might as well keep waiting.

Today, just like before, Wang Say Games logged into Game Inn.

He started streaming and noticed that something seemed off today.

The chat was quieter than usual, and a few familiar faces were missing; perhaps something was up.

But he didn’t mind–after all, he’d been struggling with electronic depression recently, his interest in games lasting only three minutes at a time, lacking the spirit for anything, so a drop in viewers was normal.

Browsing through the latest games on Game Inn, they commented, “Today, let’s talk smack about some new games. There have been quite a few recent releases, and I’m really fond of Qiu Yu Studio’s ‘Pixel Glass Ball.’ It was modified using the ‘Artifact Spirit’ mod, but it feels even better after the pixelation, definitely recommending players to give it a try. There are plenty of new games out today too, oh, here’s one called ‘Stellar Nebula’ priced at 258. Why so expensive? The download count is thirteen million… worldwide? In one day?”

After doing some quick calculations with his fingers, they realized that this number represented three billion, and just the taxes on that would be astronomical.

And it seems that the China region is the cheapest, with other regions starting at five hundred, making Wang cringe.

Moreover, it’s still noon, and sales are bound to see another increase.

Just this number alone has already shattered the leaderboard for first-day game sales–a truly phenomenal title.

Which company is so fierce that they release a hit right out of the gate?

Unable to resist, Wang opened the game interface. He hadn’t even gotten to the content of the game when he was captivated by the game’s trailer.

“Space, the eternal longing of humanity. And beyond the stars, there lies the everlasting ‘Stellar Nebula.'”
The narrator’s voice was warm and clear, and just listening was enough to enchant.

And the images displayed in the game caused Wang to widen his eyes, unwilling to miss even a single frame.

Realistic warships soared into the sky, countless warships densely peppered the heavens, and planet-sized Titan Mechs walked among the stars, like ancient gods exuding the majesty and awe of days gone by.

It was as if the air itself was on fire, and the void of space was now filled with weapons of war, stirring Wang’s blood to a boil.

A long-lost impulse emerged, making him want to quickly download the game and fully experience it.

Even if the game’s actual effects were only half as good as the promotional video… no, a third, Wang felt it would be worth the price of admission.

Upon seeing the game’s publisher, they knew the game’s content was guaranteed to be solid, and it might even surpass the video.

After all, it was a game by Fang Cheng Studio.

Looking at the familiar name, Wang’s expression changed continuously, finally settling into a smile.

“Fang Cheng Studio, long time no see.”

Payment, installation, downloading–Wang Say Games did it all in one go. Once he was snug in the gaming pod, he immediately entered the game, and within minutes, he joyfully exclaimed, “Awesome!”

That day, a great number of players were cured of their electronic depression.

A strong dose was injected into their veins, a new gaming craze had begun, the year’s best game had been decided, and a massive party for the players was about to kick off.

[Finally waited for it, being alive is so great.]
[Thank you all, thank you for letting me see this game, thanks!]
[Played from 18:00 until 17:55, thank you ‘Stellar Nebula’ for letting me travel through time.]
[One year, do you guys know what this last year has been like for me?]
-Reply: [We don’t know, but we do know that for the next year, you’ll be spending it in ‘Stellar Nebula.’]
[Best of the year, no, it’s the best of the last few decades for me.]
[From now on, my gaming list has only two categories: ‘Stellar Nebula’ and everything else.]
[Bad news: ‘Stellar Nebula’ takes a year to make. Good news: they made it last year.]
[I’m so envious of the kids born later, you’ll never understand how much we suffered waiting for a game.]
[Every moment of waiting echoes, every anticipation harvests. I used to think this phrase was too poetic, but now, I feel it speaks my heart.]
With every second, a flood of game reviews appeared as players eagerly shared their experiences within ‘Stellar Nebula,’ debating various strategies.

The outstanding gaming experience outperformed previous games–planet after planet with unique characteristics revealed the creators’ wild imaginations, and nearly endless gameplay options kept them coming back for more, informing everyone that their game of the year had finally arrived.

Without any dispute, everyone knew who this year’s gaming titan was, unless Fang Cheng released another new game.

“Stellar Nebula,” it has finally arrived.