Pei Qian didn’t give the two men much time to react and continued speaking.

“Regarding this game, I only have three requirements.”

“First, I hope this game can have ample story mode content. Don’t simply make it player-versus-player; our game must have depth and substance!”

“Second, we need to accommodate new players as much as possible, making the game as simple as possible!”

“Third, we need to create epic weapons. As for the pricing… 888 yuan for permanent ownership, and limited-time trials, you can set the price as you see fit.”

Everyone fell into a collective state of confusion.

Pei Qian laughed inwardly.

Ruining a game was just that simple!

Making an FPS game was something Pei Qian had planned from the beginning.

Having a team with absolutely no experience develop an FPS game right from the start was already setting them up for failure.

Because, unlike other game genres, FPS games demanded extremely high standards for gameplay feel!

This world had a mature FPS game called “Counter-Plan,” which had practically perfected gameplay feel to a score of 100.

Even if another game appeared on the market scoring 99, it would still fail!

Because even that 1-point difference would be infinitely magnified in the perception of hardcore FPS players!

With “Counter-Plan” available, who would want to play a poor imitation?

This was completely different from card mobile games or MMORPGs, which were heavily packaging-dependent games. Change the packaging, and most other aspects remain similar; even with some flaws, they could still be considered new games.

But for FPS games, a 1-point difference in feel was precisely that—a 1-point difference, difficult to compensate for!

Going head-to-head against “Counter-Plan” was suicidal in itself.

And Pei Qian’s three requirements were each devastatingly brutal!

The ample story mode seemed good on the surface, but it far exceeded this team’s capabilities.

Story mode was typically high-investment, low-return. The most likely outcome would be wasted effort—project members would spend enormous time and energy, but players wouldn’t care at all!

With the same development time and manpower, more investment in story mode would inevitably affect other aspects of the game.

And accommodating new players by making the game as simple as possible would certainly displease core players, especially since FPS was a genre that inherently appealed to hardcore gamers!

The most critical point was the third one.

Pay-to-win weapons!

This was something Pei Qian had thought of after learning from his previous mistakes with “Ghost General.”

In his previous life, “CrossFire” had managed to overtake Counter-Strike despite having an inferior gameplay feel.

But this world didn’t have “CrossFire,” or even similar games.

Why was that?

Pei Qian believed it was because the gaming environment in this world didn’t allow for the survival of such games!

On the surface, what Pei Qian was doing seemed similar to “CrossFire”—significantly raising the pay-to-win threshold of the game—but the effect would be completely different because the environment was completely different!

In 2009, in his previous life, free-to-play games dominated, and pay-to-win games were commonplace.

But in this current world, the mainstream models were one-time purchases and time-card fees. Even mobile games like “Cute Three Kingdoms” with a 1,000 yuan spending cap were heavily criticized by players.

Pei Qian had made a huge mistake when developing “Ghost General”—he had made the game too player-friendly, which generated strong positive feelings from players and created a reputation completely beyond Pei Qian’s expectations!

In a sense, Pei Qian was the “originator,” selling at a discount something that could have been priced much higher…

Of course, Pei Qian didn’t need to worry about what kind of chain reaction this would cause for now. He only needed to focus on how to make his next game lose money.

Making the pay-to-win aspect heavy and ruining the game’s reputation might be a good approach!

Imagine:

An FPS game with inferior feel compared to “Counter-Plan,” mediocre quality, many resources wasted on a useless story mode, and guns that couldn’t be freely used, each sold at exorbitant prices…

It had absolutely no advantages.

Nothing more to say—it would fail!

Now Pei Qian had essentially assigned an essay question, throwing these three restrictions directly at Huang Sibo and Bao Xu, letting them proceed according to these standards.

They could do whatever they wanted as long as they met these three conditions. Pei Qian absolutely wouldn’t interfere!

With no one in the entire project team having any FPS game development experience, it would be impressive if they could barely create a game that passed certification. Make a profit? Impossible!

Indeed, after hearing Pei Qian’s three requirements, both Huang Sibo and Bao Xu fell into deep thought.

Huang Sibo was shocked by the freedom and difficulty level.

He had expected that Boss Pei, as an experienced producer, would meticulously plan and guide the game design, but instead, he had merely pointed in a general direction and then completely washed his hands of it!

An FPS game with story mode, new-player friendly, and an extremely high pay-to-win ceiling…

The difficulty was enormous!

But Huang Sibo couldn’t simply say it couldn’t be done. He had just decided before the meeting to work tirelessly for Boss Pei; he couldn’t back down at the first sign of difficulty.

The greater the challenge, the harder he must work!

Otherwise, how could he deserve Boss Pei’s generous treatment and trust?

As for Bao Xu, he didn’t have as many thoughts as Huang Sibo.

He was simply recalling his experiences playing FPS games, considering how to complete the task Pei Qian had assigned.

“Any questions?” Pei Qian asked.

Just as Huang Sibo opened his mouth to speak, Pei Qian immediately nodded: “Everyone has no objections, very good.”

Several people swallowed the words that had reached the tips of their tongues.

You didn’t even give us a chance to speak!

Pei Qian looked around at everyone.

“Well then, I’ll give the design team one week to produce a draft design. Bao Xu, you’re responsible for creativity and overall direction. Huang Sibo, you’ll organize design team meetings, refine the plan, and assign tasks.”

“Ma Yang, for now, focus on learning from others and help out where you can.”

“Let me know immediately if there are any issues, especially regarding money—don’t hesitate at all.”

“Meeting adjourned!”

The meeting concluded, and Pei Qian felt completely unburdened.

So this was what being a boss felt like?

Delegating all the work to subordinates without having to worry about anything—what an exhilarating feeling!

Of course, even when acting hands-off, typical bosses would inevitably ask questions here and there to understand work progress.

But when Pei Qian let go, he truly let go, absolutely not asking a single additional question!

Whether the quality turned out good or bad, he couldn’t care less!

Of course, he still needed to mark a few key progress milestones.

Like when the design draft would be completed, when the first demo version would be ready, when to submit for approval, and so on.

It didn’t matter if the game was a bit terrible, but it had to pass certification. They couldn’t waste their efforts, or the system would determine it as non-compliant.

Pei Qian’s goal was to ensure the game could be completed while allowing his team to run wild and spend money freely!