I like being alone.
You may wonder what the heck I’m going on about so suddenly, but this is the truth.
For example: I like music, and I particularly like listening to Japanese rock. However, despite enjoying live performances, I’m not very good with them. Music moves the soul. And in that moment, I can’t help but want to enjoy it alone, without worrying about the eyes of others. I also like watching movies. However, I’m not very good with movie theaters. Film also moves the soul. And again, I can’t help but want to enjoy it alone. I prefer to watch them at home, but when there’s a title where I can’t wait for a physical release or online stream, I try to go to the theater late at night, after the trains have stopped running. I can’t say I dislike the atmosphere of an empty cinema lobby or cafe.
I like writing novels. If nothing else, I am alone while writing them. I truly think myself lucky for having met the wonderful medium of writing.
However, that isn’t the case in game development.
As demonstrated in this work, game development is a team effort. You cannot make a game alone. More precisely, you will encounter great difficulties if you attempt to create a large-scale game alone. This is ever more the case when dealing with the tempestuous and often overlapping waves of social game management. A large number of people contribute, hybridizing their abilities, and the result is a single game.
I cannot draw. I can’t write music, either. Neither can I program. With one person like me, you cannot make a game; this much is obvious. However, there have been more than a couple of times when communication and understanding have failed me, and, in a fit of hubris, I thought, “I wish I could just do all of this myself.”
But every time, I was taught my lesson.
There were times when a fellow planner came up with a genius plan that I would have never thought of. Other times, a programmer would suggest a more elegant approach to implementation. Once in a while, a designer would use some form of magic to exceed my wildest imagination. Now and again, an illustrator would complete a work gorgeous enough to make themselves salivate. And lastly, there were the moments when I would hear the lines I’d written in the recording booth; all of them linked to an unforgettable sensation. I had done everything I could possibly do, and the sensation was beyond that. This is a simple fact: I could not have seen the view from such heights alone.
This work has been blessed with similar moments of good fortune. When I spoke with my editor, Y-san, I often came away with something that I was sure would be more interesting. When Hyuuga Azuri-san (who has so graciously stuck with me) sent in their wonderful illustrations, I was especially blown away by how cute Aina was on the cover. I remember thinking that I needed to choose my words to at least avoid being overwhelmed by the drawing’s charm. Also, while I was working on the second volume, I read the messages and reviews that you all had left me for volume one, and they inspired me to aim one step higher every time. Quality isn’t something that can be attained with pure will, so I’m not sure how evident it was in this work, but I sincerely thank all of you.
There are things that you cannot do alone; that you cannot see alone; that you cannot reach alone. However, I believe that the path to such a place first begins by doing everything one can, and only then can a bright passage forward appear. I hope to continue writing novels, in part to once again see such heights.
I’m quickly running out of my allotted space, so let me give my thanks.
Hyuuga Azuri-san, who once again provided their captivating artwork. My editor, Y-san, who helped me out in so many different ways. All the miscellaneous people who were involved in both the production and sale of this book. And to all of the wonderful people who read this novel: thank you, from the bottom of my heart.
It was thanks to your support that I am here writing a second volume for this story. My wish is for this to continue further still, but the future is never so set in stone.
And for that very reason, I pray that we may meet again.
Shiki Oriori