There was no time for hesitation, so Kai quickly made his purchase and left the bookstore. He returned through the walkway and headed out his usual exit, stopping by the convenience store to grab an instant dinner on his way home. That, and a handful of chocolates. When he inevitably found himself stuck, the sweets would be an easy way to replenish his energy.
Kai arrived home at 6:00 pm. He finished bathing in 15 minutes and spent another 15 eating cup ramen. From 6:30, he spent two straight hours reading the book he’d bought from start to finish.
Though he lacked experience with development competitions, he already knew how to write a project proposal. Akane had drilled all the basics into him when he was at Tsukigase. Still, he hadn’t done so in a long while, so he was worried that he might have forgotten how to do it. The book he had chosen only had information he already knew, but it was a perfect refresher to put his thoughts into order.
In short, there was no correct answer when it came to proposals. However, there were essential elements that needed to be present. This seemed contradictory, but it was the truth. First, there was no absolute standard that dictated, ‘This is how a proposal must be written,’ so the contents and formatting varied in countless ways. Frankly, it was a means by which the planner expressed themselves.
That being said, game development was a group effort. No one would be able to act without understanding what kind of game they were making. Thus, that expression was an essential element.
Kai carefully pulled the memories of his lessons with Akane out of a treasure box in his mind, one by one, and stopped to ruminate on them.
✦ ✦ ✦
“Shiraseki, start with five pages.”
“Only five pages?”
“As a rule, assume that your reader has absolutely no expectations of you,” Akane told him. “Do you have confidence that you can hand someone a thick stack of papers, tens of pages long, and maintain their attention throughout?”
“...No.”
“Cover page; concept; target; selling point; gameplay. These are the topics needed to begin a project proposal.”
“Th-That’s all?”
“You do not seem to believe me. That will correct itself as I explain. First, we have the cover page. Shiraseki, were you surprised that I included the cover among the five pages?”
“...I was,” he admitted.
“Let me return to my initial explanation. Shiraseki, we assume the person who will read your document has no expectations. In this scenario, what will they think when they see a blank white page cover with a poorly typeset title in Gothic typeface?”
“They... wouldn’t even think to turn the page.”
“Exactly. Consequently, the quality of the cover page is critical. If possible, you should go as far as to recruit a designer to create an appealing front cover. The next topic is ‘concept,’ but... this one is intimately related to the ‘target’ and ‘selling point’ that follow. There are many instructional manuals that insist on the importance of these topics, and as a result, many people tend to think of them separately.
“...I’m sorry, what do you mean?”
“Let me begin by explaining the three of them in simple terms,” she suggested. “I will return to their individual details later on.
“The concept refers to the objective of the game. What kind of game will it be? It needs to explain that to the reader. Any inaccuracy here will cause inaccuracies throughout your proposal.
“The target is just as the label suggests: who is this game for? It is your job to hypothesize on that. An error here, and your game will never reach anyone.
“Lastly, the selling point is the hook of the game. Some refer to this as ‘benefits’ or ‘advantages,’ but ultimately, it does not matter so long as you are able to explain why the end user would appreciate your proposal. Without this, no one will so much as look your way... Do you understand, Shiraseki?”
“Yes,” he affirmed. “I’ve heard of these concepts before, so I’m following.”
“...Is that so? Then let us continue with an example,” Akane decided. “Shiraseki, say you were to develop a game that utilized your smartphone’s GPS functionality. Imagine the selling point is ‘By taking gaming outdoors, you can get in shape while having fun.’ Who would be your target audience? Try to give me as concrete an answer as you can.”
“...Would it be people who have sedentary hobbies, like reading or film watching?” he suggested.
“Is that all?”
“...Maybe we could also consider people who get light exercise in the form of walking or window shopping, but lack any athletic hobbies such as sports.”
“I see. Let us say that we managed to pare the target down to your first suggestion. The concept and gameplay would need to be more potent than any adversarial content. Should you choose to target those who prefer the indoors, you will need suitable appeal to match.”
“That means... if the game is less fun than a book or a movie, then no one will play it.”
“Precisely. On the other hand, your second suggestion lowers the hurdle. If the game is meant to be played with one hand while shopping, a casual concept and gameplay loop may fit the project better... However, trouble may arise if you decide on each section without considering the others. In an extreme case, you may find that your target audience is the elderly, but your concept would only ever be popular among young people.”
“...I see.”
“Still, there is no need to overthink things,” Akane advised him. “You can begin thinking about the concept, target, and selling point from any of these subjects. If your target is middle and high schoolers but your concept is something as unpopular as studying, you will naturally need an exceptional selling point to overcome that. So long as you do not stubbornly solidify your plans early, these three points will come together as a matter of course.”
“Understood.”
“Lastly, we have the gameplay. Allow me to warn you in advance: Shiraseki, a page is enough. How would this game be enjoyed? What kind of gameplay loop are you anticipating? All you need to do is convey the most appealing core principles of your game. Statements such as ‘We have subquests; we have missions; we have PvP,’ that explain every detail are inane. All you need is one. Show them the nucleus of your game. Not only will a list of features fail to convey anything, it may even deliver a message you should never send.”
“A message you should never send...?” he echoed.
“—Anxiety, transmits... Confidence, Shiraseki. A proposal embellished with this and that will appear lost. Three arrows are too much. Draw the bow until your absolute limit, and let fly a single, true arrow.”
✦ ✦ ✦
Looking back now, Kai could finally understand that what Akane had taught him was indeed fundamental. There were also parts that she had intentionally glossed over. For example, at the industry level, there needed to be a section on ‘monetization’ so that the company could turn a profit.
However, this time there was no need to do so. The lessons he’d learned from Akane were plenty, and those lessons had taken root as knowledge within Kai’s brain.
He knew what he had to do. He knew... but nothing came to mind. The time passed in an instant, and it was already midnight. The PowerPoint on his laptop screen was snow white. He had nothing.
“...How am I supposed to be confident like this?” Kai said to no one in particular. He was simply rebutting his own memories as he mumbled to himself.
It felt like the middle of his body had been scooped out, leaving a clean cavity from end to end. He was empty.
Nanaka and Eru had an intense passion for drawing. Aya had her strange attachment to the gacha. Kai could sense that Aina had remarkable will in her dream of becoming a voice actress. What about him? He just liked social games. He happened to stumble into this world on Akane’s invitation. He put everything he had into meeting her expectations, and now... here he was.
Do I have anything like the others? Kai wanted to beat his own chest, but had a feeling that an empty sound would echo out. He was too scared to try.
What do I want to make? Maybe that’s why I can’t think of anything.
Because my answer is blank.
“...This is no good,” he said aloud, and slapped his hands against his face with a bit too much force. He rode that momentum to stand up and head to the powder room, where he washed his reddened cheeks with cold water.
Whining and worrying wouldn’t get him anywhere. For the time being, he needed to come up with ideas—anything would do.
Kai pushed his laptop back and opened up a notebook. In the center of a blank page, he wrote the topics ‘Character’ and ‘Breath.’ Then, he surrounded them with anything he could think of relating to those themes.
The sound of his pen scribbling on paper made him feel like he was doing something, and he managed to calm down, ever so slightly.