Finger Company had already decided that FV team’s champion skins needed to be produced urgently, because the sooner they came out, the more they could improve the current state of ioi’s domestic server.
If they dragged it out for half a year, ioi’s domestic server might need to be merged into the Asian server, and by then, wouldn’t releasing champion skins be too late?
Of course, Finger Company remained very vigilant about these champion skins.
Because last time, they had already stumbled over the FV team…
The previous set of champion skins seemed fine on the surface, but as soon as they were released, players immediately saw through them: they were completely paying tribute to Mr. Pei, Tenda, and GOG!
This made Finger Company feel as uncomfortable as if they had swallowed a fly. They had paid for the prize money and paid to make the skins, but when the skins came out, everyone praised Tenda instead. How infuriating!
So this time, although Jin Yong was sent to communicate, Kretian and the skin designers from Finger Company would be watching the entire process. They absolutely couldn’t let what happened last time happen again.
Simply put, they would reject any elements related to Tenda!
Now Jin Yong had completed the preliminary communication with the FV team and was briefing Kretian and the skin designers.
Jin Yong explained: “This time, the FV team hasn’t proposed any elements related to Tenda, but… their requests are still a bit strange.”
“They want to make skins for several popular heroes, but they want them designed based on their own signature heroes.”
“For example, the jungler—last year he chose his signature hero Storm Swordsman, but this year Storm Swordsman couldn’t be played, so he selected stronger jungle heroes from the current meta.”
“This time, he chose Void Lurker, which they used in the finals, and he’s requesting that Void Lurker be made to look like Storm Swordsman. The appearance should be similar, and Storm Swordsman’s elements should be reflected in the recall animation: when recalling, Storm Swordsman’s armor shatters, his sword falls to the ground, and Void Lurker emerges from inside.”
“The other players’ requests are similar.”
Everyone looked at each other, and the room fell into a brief silence.
This request was indeed a bit strange, especially since Void Lurker and Storm Swordsman had such vastly different appearances!
According to the lore, Storm Swordsman was a relatively normal human figure, wearing armor with swirling storms, wielding a longsword, quick and agile in movement—essentially a hero specialized in stomping weaker players.
Void Lurker, on the other hand, was a void creature similar to the Zerg in the lore, barely humanoid in shape. According to the setting, although it was an insect-like creature, it possessed extremely high intelligence. Its weapons were two sharp front claws, and it could use void power to become invisible and teleport. It was currently a very popular hero favored by Western teams.
After being buffed, this hero could be considered a top-tier jungler. The FV team had to practice it frantically to win the championship, and they ultimately won the finals with this hero.
But how could two heroes with such vastly different appearances be forcibly combined?
Kretian was speechless: “How much does he love Storm Swordsman? He already got a champion skin last year, and this year he’s chosen a different hero but still wants to make another one.”
Jin Yong asked, “So… can it be done?”
Kretian nodded: “It can definitely be done.”
“We can make Void Lurker into a humanoid character similar to Storm Swordsman. Since we can’t change the claw attack animations, we’ll make him hold two swords instead. The movement and attack animations can also be slightly adjusted to match Storm Swordsman’s style.”
“Of course, it can’t be identical to Storm Swordsman, or it would cause confusion in the game. We still need to preserve Void Lurker’s characteristics as much as possible.”
“The key question now is, would there be anything inappropriate about doing this?”
Jin Yong thought for a moment: “There… shouldn’t be. Last year’s champion skins used many GOG elements, so there was a sense of déjà vu. But for this set of skins, we’ll just use ioi elements, and that should work, right?”
“Storm Swordsman is still an ioi hero after all. This is essentially similar to the ‘element swap’ skins we released before, which were quite successful.”
The “element swap” skins Jin Yong mentioned referred to a set of skins Finger Company had released before. For instance, there was a character in the game similar to a beast tamer or hunter, a humanoid hero who could summon beasts. This skin set dressed the beasts in clothes and the tamer in beast hides, creating an “element swap” effect.
The reception had been quite good, with many people buying them.
Kretian thought about it and agreed with this reasoning.
Last year’s skins were problematic because they contained GOG elements, but although FV team’s request this year was a bit strange, first, it completely complied with the rules for creating champion skins; second, it was well-known that FV team members favored their signature heroes.
Moreover, this time they weren’t using any GOG elements. No matter how they twisted things, they were only working with heroes within ioi.
The executives at Finger Company felt that as long as FV team’s requests weren’t too outrageous, they should try to satisfy them as much as possible.
After all, they were counting on this set of FV team skins to save the domestic market. What if they failed to meet FV team’s needs properly, and when the skins came out, players didn’t like them?
If it later came out that FV team had originally wanted certain skins, but Finger Company refused and made them change their requests, that would be the end of everything.
Being bombarded by angry ioi players would be the least of their worries. What they feared most was players boycotting these skins or even accelerating player loss.
At this critical juncture, it was better to avoid unnecessary troubles.
“Alright, let’s proceed with this plan. I’ll report it upstairs, but there shouldn’t be any major issues,” Kretian decided, giving his approval.
……
In the evening, Meng Chang returned to his residence.
The second wave of publicity for “The Successor” had already begun. With more promotional funds poured in, the online promotional heat for “The Successor” hadn’t diminished at all. Promotional materials for “The Successor” could still be seen on many websites.
At the same time, Fei Huang Studio’s official account had started reposting and liking some of the better reviews or videos analyzing the deeper meaning of “The Successor.”
Reviews are highly subjective—some people will criticize, and naturally, some will praise.
Qian’s review had caused such a huge reaction online that there were definitely many fans of “The Successor’s” original novel or people who appreciated the core story of “The Successor” who posted reviews or videos to refute it. It’s just that no influential person had stood up to speak yet, so no effective collective force had formed.
Of course, anyone wanting to speak up for “The Successor” now would have to carefully consider the pros and cons.
Because it was very easy to be accused of taking black money.
Although Fei Huang Studio had a good reputation before, trolls don’t need any reason to attack.
Even if some people wanted to speak up for “The Successor,” they had to consider carefully what they could and couldn’t say. Otherwise, if they said something wrong, the consequences could be serious.
Fei Huang Studio’s official endorsement of these people, on one hand, gave “The Successor’s” supporters more confidence, and on the other hand, further angered viewers who disliked “The Successor.”
And so, the tension emerged.
Originally, the haters of “The Successor” had been one-sidedly venting their emotions, successfully bringing “The Successor’s” rating down to around 6. But now different voices had suddenly appeared, and there was even a trend of official involvement. How could they tolerate this?
As a result, the online debates became more intense.
And these debates weren’t about whether “The Successor’s” production was excellent or whether the actors’ performances were good—there was nothing to debate about that.
Everyone was arguing about whether the story made sense and whether it insulted the audience’s intelligence.
This was something that was difficult to reach a conclusion on.
Meng Chang figured it was about time to express his stance as Tian Gongzi.
Although the dust wouldn’t settle until next month, he couldn’t remain silent now, because the earlier he took a stand, the more foresight he would appear to have.
Moreover, the supporters of “The Successor” were being suppressed too severely now, and the situation was becoming one-sided. It was necessary to elevate an opinion leader to directly confront Qian’s review.
Of course, Meng Chang hadn’t forgotten Mr. Pei’s advice.
Tian Gongzi shouldn’t directly enter the debate with the other side; that would be meaningless.
Just a simple status update expressing his stance while maintaining his mysterious image would be enough.
“I guess this is what they call ‘borrowing the tiger’s might’? On the surface, Tian Gongzi appears confident and strategic, but in reality, Mr. Pei has arranged everything, and I’m just a mouthpiece.”
Meng Chang opened the AiLiDao website and posted a status update.
“‘The Successor’ is a masterpiece ahead of its time. The day after the entire series finishes airing, all debates about it will naturally disappear. I won’t delete this status, and everyone can witness it with me.”
Meng Chang, afraid of being misunderstood as being sarcastic, spoke earnestly without any ambiguity.
He even deliberately made it sound a bit like a prophecy.
He was still betting on this account, but as Mr. Pei said, posting a status update was much smarter than directly posting a video.
There was no point in posting a video explaining “The Successor.” Those who approved would still approve, and those who didn’t would still not approve. It wouldn’t fundamentally change anything just because Tian Gongzi posted a video.
But this status update, with its air of inscrutable prophecy, would have a different effect.
Although there would be many jeers and mockery, the propagation effect would definitely be much better than painstakingly making a video.
Soon, the status update was bombarded with comments and shares.
“Huh? Was the account hacked?”
“Why just a status update? Where’s the video?”
“Don’t tell me you’re getting paid for this!”
“A work ahead of its time? The debates will automatically disappear after the whole series airs? Don’t kid me, I’ve already read the original novel!”
“If you weren’t speaking so earnestly, I would have thought you were being sarcastically critical…”
“Nice. Marking my spot here. I’ll do a handstand and have diarrhea if ‘The Successor’ actually becomes popular next month. Since you won’t delete this status, I’ll wait for this comment to get 99+ likes!”
“Acting mysterious and enigmatic, are you being sarcastic? Can’t you make a video and explain clearly?”
Some people were excited, saying they would wait and see, but others immediately started cursing.
Obviously, this status update would soon be shared and cause heated discussion.
Meng Chang wasn’t particularly concerned about any of this. After posting this status update, he wouldn’t log into the account again. The next time he would see it would be January 13th.
Meng Chang had already bet everything he could. If it failed, he would consider it all reset, as if nothing had happened.
If it succeeded, it would prove that Mr. Pei indeed had foresight and insight beyond ordinary people, and Meng Chang would profit handsomely from his absolute trust in Mr. Pei!