There couldn’t be a better example of a game trying too hard to be original and failing. If I’d met any of them in the real world, I would’ve turned and bolted away at full speed. They weren’t the kind of people you’d want to have anything to do with.
When I started the game in my previous life and began winning over the noble, the first glimpses of his narcissistic nature made my heart sink.
The heroine must be an angel, or maybe a qualified defense attorney, to be able to take this dumbass seriously, I thought with a straight face.
I suppressed my initial urge to ask the game shop for a refund, and trudged through to the wedding scene at the end. The noble gazed at the heroine in her pure white dress and remarked, “So beautiful. The reflection of me in your eyes, that is.”
I rage-threw my controller onto the floor in disgust at that point.
Is every writer for this game a complete idiot?! Painting a happy ending only to fade to black with a terrifying final line is a format that only works in horror stories. Using a line like that in a romance game makes a mockery of all the character development up to that point.
I tried a different route, and then another. Every single character followed a similar course; there wasn’t an ounce of excitement. The suitors weren’t lovable so much as stabbable. I felt like a guinea pig being subjected to an avant-garde stress test.
The people on the internet by and large shared my opinions. Even so, there was a distinct reason why we all powered through without throwing the game away: accompanying the outwardly dazzling main characters were the so-called side characters. Their purpose in the game was just to add texture and flesh out the story, but these side characters outshone the main suitors in every conceivable way, and that imbalance was what made Hidden World so terrible.
Since they weren’t main characters, they never received much screen time with the protagonist. A few of them even went entirely unmentioned in some routes. For whatever reason though, they were all hotties that were good-looking enough to rival the main characters. Also, unlike the main characters, they had amazing personalities. They were truly faultless.
For example, the first prince was cool and intelligent. The narcissistic noble had a side-character uncle who was a calm and kind gentleman. The guard captain was caring and strong, a man among men. The necrophile sorcerer’s rival was zealous and hardworking. The assassin-turned-waiter was a feminist and a friend to all women. Even the priest’s sister was a stunning beauty with a big-sisterly disposition.
What’s the point in making the side characters so much better than the main characters? If I could’ve interrogated the production staff about how it had come to this, I would’ve.
In spite of my frustration with the main characters, the side characters kept me playing. The best among them was the guard captain, who happened to be my number one heartthrob and the man who boasted the top spot on the internet’s popularity polls. He left all the main characters in the dust. I suffered through the pain of each disappointing route just to see his smile. However small the chance, I pinned all my hopes on the possibility that, after finishing the main characters’ stories, the guard captain route would become available.
Sadly, I couldn’t unlock it. Or rather, there was nothing locked away. His route didn’t exist.
I fought on through pangs of despair as the gallery filled up and up. There’s got to be at least one hidden character, right? I thought, trudging onward. But, struggle as I might, neither God nor the production staff led me to the promised land.
Tears fell down my cheeks when I saw the “100%” in the corner of the scene-select screen. No new routes appeared for the side characters, even after finishing the game. All that remained was the fact that I had wasted my time playing through every inch of this piece of shit.
I’ve never felt so empty. What am I even doing?
I wasn’t alone in this feeling. The most well-liked ending, according to the player community, was the normal ending, which also happened to be the one where the despondent heroine snuck back to her own world with all hopes of world peace and romance shattered. So what made this doom-and-gloom ending so popular? His appearance, of course—the guard captain’s.
As the heroine lamented her powerlessness, he gently stroked her hair, saying, “It’s not your fault. Go home, live a happy life.”
Who wouldn’t fall for him?
I lost count of the number of times I screamed “Don’t do it!” at the screen, but the shrine maiden still chose to step into the magic circle, homeward bound and looking guilt-ridden.
I might have gotten a bit carried away with my explanation, but the point is that I was reborn into that shitty game’s world, which could only mean one thing: endless amounts of trouble were right around the corner.
If I was to live a peaceful life in Nevel, I would have to break the event flags to avoid triggering routes where I would end up with any of my suitors. Though the flags were once just checkpoints in a game, they now carried real-world ramifications that could ruin my new life. I needed to dodge them at all costs.
My head hurt just thinking about how I would mollify the six pain-in-the-ass main characters by myself, all without triggering their flags...but there was no other path to happiness.
The three-year-old me said nothing, but I took a deep breath, scrunched up my face, and made up my mind.
I can do this. I can reach a future where I meet my beloved guard captain.