Qiu Hong sighed softly and continued: “The closed, proprietary operating systems that came with home consoles provided powerful copyright protection for single-player games. Although they could still be cracked, this line of defense ensured that foreign game companies could remain profitable.”

“No matter how online games developed, in foreign markets, single-player games maintained a market share of over 60%, exceeding online games. But in our domestic market around 2001, this proportion was approximately zero.”

“The absence of home consoles led to rampant piracy, and the flourishing piracy destroyed the single-player game market.”

“People who didn’t experience that era have no concept of how brutal the single-player game market was back then. To put it simply, single-player games were so devastated that even when priced at 15 yuan per copy, players would still choose the pirated version for 6 yuan.”

“At that time, Chinese-produced games were just in their infancy. Due to cultural barriers, they were essentially unsellable overseas, so they could only focus on the domestic market.”

“Before that, many Chinese single-player games were priced at several dozen yuan and sold well, with good profits. But within a short span of one or two years, legitimate games had to engage in price wars with pirated games. ‘Four Seas Situation Meeting’ was reduced to a retail price of 18 yuan to combat piracy, and some copies were even given away with magazines, but it was still of no use.”

“The reduction in game prices didn’t achieve the effect of making up for lower margins with higher sales. Instead, it significantly reduced revenue. With reduced revenue, production costs also had to be reduced, and game quality subsequently declined.”

“Additionally, certain garbage companies developed many garbage games that severely exhausted the enthusiasm of the few supporters of legitimate games. Eventually, it became a death spiral, with Chinese single-player games equated with poor quality.”

“When an 18-yuan legitimate game still couldn’t compete with a 6-yuan pirated game, everything was already doomed, and no amount of struggle could change it. The wave of online games, on the contrary, gave game producers like me a way out, allowing me to make online games and continue staying in the game industry. Otherwise, I might have gone to work at an internet company as a product manager.”

“So, quite the opposite, single-player games didn’t die because of online games, but because of piracy. Online games were a lifeline for these manufacturers.”

Pei Qian remained silent for a long time before saying: “But if the product is good enough, people will still pay for it, right? I’ve heard that there are AAA titles overseas that don’t have anti-piracy measures.”

Qiu Hong nodded: “Yes, Mr. Ma, you’re right. That’s true, completely correct.”

“The only question is, what standard is ‘good enough’?”

“Does it mean making AAA games at the same level as major foreign companies? Or, let’s say, being among the top one or two in domestic manufacturers?”

“That means only by reaching the top 1% of the entire industry would you be considered good enough, with enough people being moved by your product and willing to pay for it.”

“Some people say piracy expands potential market share. First, that’s nonsense. Second, even if it were true, it would only have a slight effect on the top 1% of the industry.”

“If you could achieve a monopolistic position like a computer operating system, then perhaps piracy could help you strike down competitors and maintain market share.”

“However, how many companies can reach the top 1%? How many companies can achieve a monopoly?”

“Are there any companies born as big companies or monopolistic companies?”

“Should the remaining 99% just die?”

Discussing the top 1% of an industry is meaningless. How many people can reach the top 1% in their field? If someone told you now that in your industry, only the top 1% could gain recognition and survive, while the remaining 99% would starve to death, would you stay in this industry?”

“Even industry leaders like He An, who made many successful single-player games, also switched to making online games. When the foundation of the tower collapses, the entire market will shrink comprehensively. How can one or two companies at the top of the tower change the entire market?”

“Therefore, a healthy industry should be like a pyramid or an iceberg. The top of the tower, or the part of the iceberg above water, represents the glorified top 1%. The foundation of the tower, or the iceberg beneath the water, is the cornerstone of an industry’s existence.”

“When the foundation no longer exists, how can the top survive?”

“So, whether the top 1% is doing well or not doesn’t determine how the industry fares. What truly determines the life and death of an industry is whether the bottom and middle layers can survive.”

“This leads to a vicious cycle:”

“Manufacturer: We need you to buy legitimate versions so we can develop better games!”

“Player: Then give us the best experience first! If you provide the best, we’ll abandon piracy and buy legitimate versions!”

“Manufacturer: But you need to reject piracy and pay us first so we have the money to provide a better experience!”

“Player: Then you need to give us the best experience first, and then we’ll reject piracy!”

“So manufacturers had no choice but to make online games.”

“This is the market, the choice of players voting with their feet. Players said they would only accept online games and pirated single-player games, not legitimate single-player games. So, as everyone wished, legitimate single-player games died out completely.”

“For players, the notion of ‘only paying for things good enough’ is itself flawless and should not be criticized, but the premise is that this is a healthy, orderly market.”

“If the market itself is full of unfair competition, then ‘only paying for things good enough’ means that except for the top 1% of content producers, the remaining 99% of ordinary content producers will be killed by those engaged in unfair competition and those who break market rules.”

“Just like now, many video creators work hard for three days to make a video, only to have it copied and pasted by some people. You need three days, they only need one second. How can you compete with them? If viewers don’t have this awareness and think that since it’s the same content, it doesn’t matter if they watch it from the video thieves, then how many video creators, apart from the top tier, do you think can truly remain?”

“So, thanks to the establishment of the ESRO official platform in 2006. Without it, the domestic single-player game market would still be a barren desert today, with nothing growing.”

“Even if there were one or two lone sprouts, they would only be fleeting and could never grow into towering trees.”

“Because no one truly cared about this issue.”

Qiu Hong took a sip of coffee, his expression desolate.

Pei Qian remained silent for a moment, then asked: “Then… since the survival environment for Chinese single-player games improved again in 2006, why didn’t you persist in your dream and continue to make single-player games?”

Qiu Hong laughed somewhat self-mockingly: “Because I gave up my dream.”

“Remember what I said at the beginning? Persisting in dreams is the biggest factor for failure.”

“When I first entered the industry, I made a single-player game, developed it for nearly two years, and persisted for more than two months without a salary. In the end, no one even knew its name.”

“So I abandoned my dream and made a xianxia-themed pay-to-win online game. This game earned me a project bonus of 1 million yuan in one year, which could be considered a success.”

“So, does it matter what my dream was? Does anyone care? Who am I persisting in this dream for? If persisting in my dream means I can only drink cold water and eat instant noodles every day, while abandoning my dream allows me to live a comfortable life and gain the attention of tens of thousands of players, why should I persist?”

“So from that time on, I made up my mind. I would only make pay-to-win games, and my goal was to earn more money. As for the great mission of revitalizing single-player games? What does that have to do with me? Even the players themselves don’t care, so who am I persisting for?”

“All game creators who entered the industry with me during that pioneering stage, which one didn’t once have dreams?”

“But those of my peers who persisted in their dreams have already left this industry. Only people like me who abandoned their dreams could survive.”

“Mr. Ma, you might think that my experience doesn’t apply to this era.”

“Because Chinese single-player games are getting better and better. Now there’s no piracy, and more and more people are paying for Chinese single-player games.”

“But the principle remains unchanged. Between dreams and reality, only a very small number of people can have both. The vast majority of people can only make a cruel choice: either abandon their dreams or be taught a lesson by reality.”

“Mr. Ma, these are my final heartfelt words.”

“They don’t apply to everyone. They may be right, they may be wrong. But regardless, I hope they can bring you some inspiration.”

Pei Qian took a sip of coffee and didn’t speak for a long time.

Because this topic was indeed somewhat heavy.

Pei Qian truly didn’t know the relationship between the ESRO official platform, the eradication of piracy, and the normal development of single-player games in this world. Only now did he realize that it was because of the establishment of the ESRO official platform and its strict control over piracy that the domestic single-player game market was saved, making this world different from the one in his memory.

A hairbreadth’s difference, a world of difference.

Qiu Hong said that without the ESRO official platform, Chinese-produced games would still be a barren desert today.

Pei Qian knew that what he said was correct.

Because all of this had truly played out in his memory.

But precisely because of this, Pei Qian felt that he should say something.

The current environment could already be described as heaven. And the reason Qiu Hong felt he was in hell was simply because he hadn’t seen true hell.

After considering for a moment, Pei Qian said, “Mr. Qiu, I know that it’s impossible for people to truly empathize with each other. Many people can take things lightly simply because they haven’t experienced that kind of pain. So, in many cases, advising others to be magnanimous is often an action likely to invite a lightning strike.”

“But I still want to say a few words to you, may I?”

Qiu Hong nodded: “Of course, Mr. Ma. We’re kindred spirits. Feel free to speak.”

Pei Qian said seriously, “I know that the feeling of putting in effort without receiving due reward is painful. Everyone feels angry when their hard work is plagiarized. This world is inherently full of unfairness, and sometimes you can’t even distinguish right from wrong. Not every disaster can find a responsible party.”

“There’s a life motto that not everyone can adhere to, but everyone knows it’s right. It goes: ‘Just do good deeds, don’t ask about the future.'”

“Mr. Qiu, don’t let the tragedy of an era become your tragedy.”

Qiu Hong repeatedly pondered the last sentence, speechless.

After a long while, he looked up: “Mr. Ma, it’s really good that you can think like this.”

“Thank you.”