February 24th, Wednesday.

The design team was having a meeting.

Pei Qian didn’t attend because the design draft had already been finalized and production had begun. As the boss, it was neither possible nor necessary for Pei Qian to continue focusing on these minor details.

During this period, Lü Mingliang had taken over almost all the responsibilities.

Although Huang Sibo had suddenly departed from this world—no, just departed from the company—leaving everyone in slight disarray, fortunately, everyone had originally been performing their duties, and the structure of the design team hadn’t changed significantly, so they quickly got back on track.

Lü Mingliang had been busy with various tasks and finally started adapting to his role as the acting lead designer. Apart from sometimes still being accustomed to handling everything personally and having trouble delegating, he had no problems in other areas.

After actually becoming the acting lead designer, Lü Mingliang found that the job wasn’t as difficult as he had imagined.

After being tempered by “Sea Fortress,” this was already a very mature team. Lü Mingliang only needed to manage the work deadlines properly, and everyone else was very self-disciplined.

Lü Mingliang suddenly felt somewhat emotional.

Did this mean that many people actually had the capability, but simply hadn’t been placed in those positions?

At his previous company, he had done odd jobs, working himself to exhaustion every day, becoming a workaholic, yet his abilities hadn’t improved at all because he was doing repetitive labor.

This led to his concerns about whether he could handle the acting lead designer position when he first took over.

But after working in the role for a while, he discovered that it wasn’t as difficult as he had imagined!

Thinking about it now, the previous company’s requirement for lead designers to accumulate seniority and experience might not have been necessary—it was possibly just a selection method.

Perhaps this was Mr. Pei’s approach to managing people?

Lü Mingliang couldn’t help but marvel that indeed, there were many talented individuals, but not many who could recognize their talents!

A good leader was someone who could maximize an employee’s potential and creativity, while those who only knew how to exploit their employees would turn them into thoughtless machines, with efficiency that would only decrease over time!

Thinking of this, Lü Mingliang’s admiration for Mr. Pei increased even more.

Lü Mingliang cleared his throat: “Today’s meeting mainly has two items.”

“First, I need to be away for two or three days to do voice acting for ‘Game Producer.’ Don’t ask me why, I’d like to know too…”

Even now, Lü Mingliang still didn’t understand Pei Qian’s intention in having him do the voice acting.

From all perspectives, this was a decision worthy of a “Confusing Behavior Award.”

But since this decision was made by Mr. Pei, it was indisputable!

The others also looked completely bewildered.

What was going on?

During the game development process, the acting lead designer was going to do voice acting for the game???

The room fell into a stunned silence.

Lü Mingliang continued: “Second, I hope everyone can read through the game’s dialogue more thoroughly and handle their respective features well. Also, make sure to coordinate promptly with Master Ruan Guangjian’s team. If you encounter problems that can’t be resolved, you can call me.”

Lü Mingliang needed to briefly assign the work.

The narration text in the game wasn’t too extensive; if things went smoothly, three days should be enough.

Although these three days were short, they were also very precious. Lü Mingliang was worried that people might slack off or not know how to solve problems they encountered, so he repeatedly emphasized these points.

After Lü Mingliang finished his instructions, people began to speak freely, discussing the details.

Since the design draft was already quite comprehensive, the few pending issues were quickly settled one by one.

Lü Mingliang noticed that Lin Wan had been holding a paper copy of the script, reading the narration lines for “Game Producer.”

He was a bit curious.

If someone needed to read the script… shouldn’t it be me, the voice actor?

Lin Wan had been at Tenda Network Technology Co., Ltd. for over a month.

During this time, like others, she had been responsible for some minor features, working conscientiously and responsibly. However, because the work she was responsible for didn’t pose any particularly significant challenges, she hadn’t stood out much.

Right now, Lin Wan was repeatedly reviewing the narration lines for “Game Producer,” to the point where the paper pages had become somewhat wrinkled.

“I think… I might understand a bit of Mr. Pei’s intention,” Lin Wan said, looking at Lü Mingliang.

“Hmm?” Lü Mingliang was taken aback. “You mean about having me do the voice acting?”

Lin Wan nodded, her tone increasingly certain: “That’s right.”

“Tell me about it.” Lü Mingliang was very interested.

He didn’t understand why Mr. Pei wanted him to do the voice acting and worried that he wouldn’t be able to complete the task, dragging down the game.

So, he had been feeling uneasy all along.

But from what Lin Wan was saying, could it be that Mr. Pei had deeper intentions?

Lin Wan flipped through the script lines, entering analysis mode.

“I have to say, Mr. Pei’s true intention is deeply buried this time, which is why none of us saw it at first.”

“I only vaguely guessed it after repeatedly reading the narration that Mr. Pei personally revised, combined with the recent ‘Mr. Pei’s Daily Life’ short videos.”

“I believe, just like ‘Mr. Pei’s Daily Life,’ the game ‘Game Producer’ is also a form of dark humor with a strong ironic effect!”

“Look at these narration lines.”

“The narrator consistently guides the player to make certain choices during the game development process. Each choice appears to be the best and easiest way to achieve benefits at that moment.”

“For instance, when choosing between a buy-out payment model and value-added service charges, the narrator guides the player to choose value-added service charges.”

“When choosing between light pay-to-win and heavy pay-to-win, the narrator guides the player to choose heavy pay-to-win.”

“Among various art styles, the narrator guides the player to adopt the currently most popular chibi style…”

“Each time, it seems reasonable, as game companies must ensure profitability, and these choices are beneficial for profits.”

“But what’s the final result?”

“If you completely follow the narrator’s guidance, you’ll end up with a ruined reputation, being cursed by players, and ultimately gaining nothing!”

“And the narrator will mock you, saying that as a boss, you lack decisiveness, are easily swayed, and just do whatever the narrator suggests.”

“You think the failure is caused by the narrator? No, the narrator merely offered an incorrect suggestion, and you, unable to discern, are the primary person responsible for the failure!”

“The addition of the narrator infinitely amplifies this sense of failure! This will make players uncomfortable, indeed.”

“Because it’s the naked reality, and also a form of irony!”

“Why are there so many confusing, despicable, garbage games in this world? Simple—because those bosses went through the same mental journey!”

“The narrator is like the devil named ‘greed’ in their hearts, leading them step by step in the wrong direction, ultimately falling into the abyss!”

Lü Mingliang nodded repeatedly as he listened.

That made a lot of sense!

“But… why does completely ignoring the narrator’s suggestions also lead to failure? Is this also a form of irony?” A designer raised his hand and asked.