The tense crowd of students had begun stirring from the instant he entered the venue. It had nothing to do with his appearance; rather, it was a quiet frenzy caused by the fact that the Hifumi Tetsuma had shown up.
Hifumi Tetsuma was one of the infamous producers behind the industry powerhouse, Tricolore Games. Every title he had a hand in had been a hit. He was involved in everything from RPGs to shooters, and yet all of his games were fun. There were more than a handful of planners at Tsukigase who looked up to him.
“Hmm... Looks like you’ve all heard of me, huh.” Tetsuma himself seemed to have caught on to the atmosphere in the room and he heaved a massive sigh. “Let me just say this: I haven’t heard of you. They told me that there’s a bunch of first-class students lined up here, so I should keep tabs on any kids that look promising—but I’m not gonna do that. This is a pain in my ass. I can’t even smoke here.”
Tetsuma pulled a cigarette out of his pocket while muttering, “Can’t they at least let me have a smoke?” under his breath. Upon closer inspection, what he had was a crumpled cigarette that had already been used. Nevertheless, he put it into his mouth and seemed truly at peace as he inhaled through it.
“Pwaah! That hits the spot... Honestly, nicotine’s the only thing I can trust,” he sighed. Then he continued on to say, “Alright! Let’s get this show on the road. In the past, I think Summit looked through your project proposals, but there’s no need for that this time because it’s a fucking pain.
“I’m sure you all want to hurry up and make your game, right? Then do it,” he told them. “Well, if you wanna write up a proposal then go for it. I won’t read it, and I certainly won’t judge you off of it. The only thing I’m looking at is your final product. Oh, and it doesn’t have to be a game, either. We’ll hand out topics for each pair of schools, so as long as you follow that I don’t give a damn what kind of app it is. Let’s see... if you want a proper rule, then how about ‘anything goes as long as it’s fun’?”
Having dispensed with the preliminaries, Tetsuma now inspected the room from side to side with a scowl. Everyone had been overwhelmed into silence. He concluded with, “That’s it from me. If you have any questions, ask them now; if not, we’ll move on to the drawing. Anything?”
A few seconds elapsed in silence, but then a boy near the front of the room raised his hand.
“You,” Tetsuma ordered. “Tell me your question.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you very much for your explanation. This isn’t a question in regards to the rules at Summit, but rather a personal question for you—for Hifumi Tetsuma. Is that okay with you, sir?”
“...Go ahead.”
“Thank you very much. In the future, I would like to work in the games industry as a planner. I very much look up to the games you make. However, Hifumi-san, you have never once agreed to an interview. I doubt I’ll ever have a chance like this again, so I’d like to ask you to tell us one thing—anything—that you keep in mind to make good games.” The boy’s voice was awkward and rife with nervousness. He was clearly telling the truth when he said he looked up to Hifumi Tetsuma as a creator.
After glaring at the boy for a moment, Tetsuma suddenly erupted with laughter. “Gwahahahahaha—cough! What a dumbass question! This is why I didn’t wanna come to a place like this.” He scratched the back of his head and pointed directly at the dumbfounded boy. “You. You making fun of me?”
“N-No! I would never!”
“If you were being serious, then that’s even worse... Look, people say my games are all a hit, but even then, the best I’ve been able to do is make the top 10 in the rankings. You know that much, don’t you?”
“Y-Yes, sir...”
“Listen here: I’m always giving it my all to make it to the very top. Always have been, and always will. Something I ‘keep in mind to make good games,’ huh?” Tetsuma scoffed. “Why the fuck should I spill my secrets for some kid who doesn’t know the first thing about games? You plan on becoming a planner, right? Then you’re gonna be a corporate enemy in the future. There’s nothing in it for me to tell you!”
The boy’s response was now an inaudible murmur, but Tetsuma continued to hammer him. “It’s not just you, got it?” Then, addressing the rest of them, he asked, “Are all of you here trying to learn how to make a game from someone else? Are you stupid?
“There’s no textbook on how to make a game. There isn’t even one proper way to make a project proposal. Nobody knows the answer; that’s what makes it so fun.” He slammed his foot on the ground and shot back up to his feet.
“I came here to be a judge, not a teacher. No one knows where the next fun game will come from, and that’s doubly true for a one-and-done deal like this. That’s why I’m treating you as equal creators. You’re students, but before that, you’re creators like me. That’s my end, so you all better hold up your end and start talking to me with your output. I don’t need any of the extra crap... Any other questions?”
At some point, the boy in the front had sat down, and nobody else dared to raise their hand. The lecture hall was quiet again, but it was a different breed of silence than what it had been before. There was magma bubbling from the floor, and everyone in attendance had an unspoken fiery drive running up their spines.
“Should’ve been like that from the start,” Tetsuma said with a laugh, glaring out across the room. “Alright, let’s start the drawing.”