Monday, around noon.
Last Friday's team-building event had everyone in high spirits. After taking the weekend off to fully relax, most people returned to work refreshed.
Except for Bao Xu, who still came to the office on Sunday, no one else showed up to work overtime—they all enjoyed their well-earned weekend.
After all, the game was already completed. There was no reason to keep working overtime!
Sure, overtime came with extra pay, but a relaxing weekend was far more tempting in comparison.
So, on Monday, many were still basking in the afterglow of that joy.
Huang Sibo, however, wasn't blindly optimistic. His expression was somewhat serious.
"You noticed Ocean Fortress's data too, right?" Huang Sibo walked over to Bao Xu's workstation and found him also monitoring the game's backend metrics.
To put it simply: abysmal.
The game was submitted for review on Friday, approved Saturday night, and after a whole day on Sunday… it had only garnered a few hundred downloads.
It's far too few!
FPS games aren't like other genres—they're essentially competitive online games, and they only really shine with enough active players.
The core gameplay of an FPS is PvP combat. But with just a few hundred downloads and only a few dozen active users, who the heck are you going to fight against? Forget evenly matched opponents—you'd be lucky to get matched with a real person at all!
You can't expect players to just fight against bots forever. That's not what an FPS is about.
Now, to be fair, Ocean Fortress is different from FPS titles like Bullet Hole in that it includes a story mode that can be played solo.
But still, the story mode isn't enough to sustain long-term engagement. Players will get bored quickly.
What's more, the kind of gamers who enjoy Counter-Terrorism Plan-like experiences mostly prefer multiplayer. Story modes aren't really their thing.
All in all, the situation was not looking good.
And those few hundred downloads? They were achieved with the game being completely free to play. If Ocean Fortress had followed a traditional pricing model—say, 30 to 50 yuan like a standard single-player game—the download numbers might've been even worse.
So, why was Ocean Fortress made free-to-play in the first place?
Because Pei Qian had learned his lesson from Ghost General.
That game was so consumer-friendly that its user base exploded. Every month it was getting tens of thousands of new active players!
And each one of those players brought in ten yuan of revenue for Pei Qian, catching him completely off guard…
Originally, that ten-yuan pricing was just meant to act as a gate to deter freeloaders, but it backfired—turning into a "small profit, high volume" model.
So, after much soul-searching, Pei Qian decided to go the complete opposite direction for Ocean Fortress.
He made the game entirely free. That way, even if the game somehow gained traction and got lots of downloads, Pei Qian wouldn't earn a single cent from casual players!
The only monetization? A ridiculous 888-yuan epic weapon. It served two purposes: one, to attract criticism and ruin the game's reputation; and two, to price out nearly every player so nobody would actually buy it.
As for why he didn't just make the game completely free, with no monetization at all?
Did Pei Qian not want to?
Of course he did!
The problem was that the system wouldn't allow it.
If the game were free and also didn't include any in-app purchases or ad revenue, it would be considered a financial loss. That's essentially Pei Qian paying out of pocket to produce a product and giving it away for nothing.
Such a blatant loophole—intentionally creating financial loss—was strictly forbidden by the system.
Otherwise, it would be far too easy for Pei Qian to lose money: just buy a batch of products at full price and sell them dirt cheap. He could lose as much as he wanted, anytime.
But the system wasn't about to let something that obvious slide.
So, Pei Qian had to build a monetization model into the game. Whether it was selling the game outright or including in-app purchases, there needed to be some profit mechanism in place to avoid triggering a system warning.
In short, as of now, the situation with Ocean Fortress was still under Pei Qian's control.
He had set up three layers of defense:
First, no pre-launch marketing, it's keep the game completely under the radar.
Second, a disastrous pricing model—the 888-yuan epic weapon would destroy public goodwill and tank the game's reputation.
Third, stiff competition from a high-quality rival game like Bullet Hole, which would suppress Ocean Fortress in every way.
Right now, the first line of defense was clearly working.
And Huang Sibo and Bao Xu were… understandably worried.
They were both paying close attention to how Ocean Fortress was performing.
After all, they had poured a lot of time and effort into it. Plus, this game had been entrusted to them by President Pei.
If the game flopped… wouldn't that be letting President Pei down?
That was absolutely unacceptable!
Huang Sibo looked hesitant, as if unsure whether to say what was on his mind.
But after some internal struggle, he finally spoke.
"Brother Bao, do you think… maybe President Pei didn't promote Ocean Fortress at all? I mean, come on—these download numbers are tragic."
He felt a little uneasy saying that—it sounded borderline disrespectful toward President Pei—but from every angle, that's just how it looked…
These days, whether a domestic game succeeds often hinges on marketing and distribution channels.
There are tons of garbage games that lure in a massive user base thanks to brain-melting advertising campaigns.
Now, whether those users stay is another matter entirely—but at least even trash-tier games with decent advertising don't go completely unnoticed.
It's been a whole day since launch, and the game only has a few hundred downloads? That just doesn't add up!
Bao Xu glanced at him. "Brother Huang, don't question President Pei. He's the man who thought up the Weibo viral campaign for Ghost General. He's a marketing genius. No way he doesn't understand how important promo is."
Huang Sibo scratched his head.
That was true…
But looking at the current state of Ocean Fortress—barely alive and gasping for air—it really did seem like there had been zero marketing effort…
Huang Sibo even searched around and confirmed it: the game wasn't listed on any other major platforms, hadn't run any ads, and hadn't launched any kind of promotional campaign.
What, was President Pei secretly preparing some massive surprise rollout?
Bao Xu seemed to pick up on Huang Sibo's doubt and said, "I think we just need to trust President Pei. If he didn't assign us to handle the promotion, then we shouldn't concern ourselves with it."
"Yeah, you're right." Huang Sibo thought it over and nodded.
They are not the marketing genius, Present Pei is, who are they to worry on his behalf?
So, Huang Sibo turned and left.
Ten minutes later, he came back.
"This time it's not about promotion," Huang Sibo explained. "It's about post-launch updates."
"Oh? Go on, Brother Huang." Bao Xu nodded.
Huang Sibo paused briefly before continuing. "Here's the thing—Ocean Fortress's official version is done. And according to standard development cycles, we should now start planning for the next version."
"Mhm, yeah… so?" Bao Xu looked a bit confused.
He was still a little fuzzy on the overall development process. Basically, whatever Huang Sibo arranged, he'd just follow along and do his part.
<+>
If you want to see more chapter of this story and don't mind spending $5 monthly to see till the latest chapter, please go to my Patreon[1]
Latest Chapter in Patreon: Chapter 102: A Low-Key Grand Opening[2]
Link to the latest chapter: https://www.patreon.com/posts/129254813?collection=1399284[3]
https://www.patreon.com/collection/1399284?view=expanded[4]
[1] https://www.patreon.com/collection/1399284?view=expanded
[2] https://www.patreon.com/posts/129254813?collection=1399284
[3] https://www.patreon.com/posts/129254813?collection=1399284
[4] https://www.patreon.com/collection/1399284?view=expanded