Chapter 478 - 305: Zog, a Dragon Who Has Abandoned High-Level Tastes (2)

Chapter 478: Chapter 305: Zog, a Dragon Who Has Abandoned High-Level Tastes (2)

They weren’t anti-war anymore; they had become vested beneficiaries of combat.

It wasn’t even about character selection anymore. Players would just pick one who could fight, then choose the others at random. It was always the same strategy.

They weren’t even afraid of the army. This had gone beyond a simple unorthodox strategy; drastic measures were required.

Time for an update!

Zog made a few tweaks. The trader’s supplies would still refresh periodically, but now, the armed forces on the map would respawn along with them.

What’s more, they would get stronger with each respawn.

If a player’s character went too far, they would become wanted.

Once they were wanted, specialized bounty hunters would spawn to attack them, even on maps that were normally free of enemies.

These bounty hunters were stat-freaks, but if a player managed to turn the tables and kill one, looting their gear would be a handsome reward.

This way, the path for aggressive players wasn’t completely blocked off, just made more difficult. You couldn’t get by on memorization alone anymore. If your skills were sharp enough, you could still live a life free from want.

Toto was very satisfied with this change.

It better reflected her status as an expert player. Anyone could learn the previous strategy just by watching; it wasn’t high-class enough for her.

And so, the updated version of *This War of Mine* was released to the public along with the other titles in the Anti-War Game Festival.

The game adopted a brand-new sales model. Given its charitable angle, the base game was free.

Of course, the base game only included the basic mode and five starting characters, with no character customization feature.

It was enough for a full playthrough or two but lacked the depth for high replayability.

Players had to pay to unlock other characters. Additionally, a story mode was introduced.

Unlike survival mode, where players could freely choose their group of characters, this mode featured fixed protagonists and plotlines.

The first batch to be released included four stories: *Father’s Promise*, *The Last Broadcast*, *Fading Embers*, and *The Little Ones*.

An open call was also announced for players to submit story scripts; the best ones would be given the chance to be made into an official expansion pack.

Ten percent of the revenue from paid content would be donated to aid survivors of war.

Thanks to this piggyback marketing strategy, wherever an ad for the Anti-War Art Festival appeared, a promotion for the game festival was sure to follow.

It generated a massive amount of buzz for a relatively low advertising cost.

A slew of media outlets framed the relationship between the art festival and the game festival as a rivalry.

The general public, who loved a good spectacle and didn’t mind fanning the flames, provided a considerable amount of attention.

’Besides, is this really just being a spectator? This is contributing to the liberation of the Augustine City State.’

And so, amidst all the hype, *This War of Mine* unsurprisingly stood out from the crowd of games at the festival.

The main reason was that the game festival was filled with minor titles. A game made by a team of three to five people was considered a full-fledged production.

The vast majority were solo projects, the kind of games that were about as indie as you could get.

They weren’t the so-called "indie games" backed by major studios, with teams of hundreds, that still insisted on the label.

By comparison, *This War of Mine* looked exceptionally polished and professional.

Combined with the publicity that a portion of the proceeds would go to charity, sales quickly skyrocketed.

In just one week, downloads surpassed one million.

For a low-budget game, this was an achievement to be proud of.

The paid conversion rate was also very high.

The proportion of players who purchased characters was as high as 70%. For a free-to-play game, that was an absolutely incredible conversion rate.

In the era of mobile games that live and die by buying user traffic, numbers like these would have developers laughing all the way to the bank.

Sales for the four paid story expansions weren’t bad, either.

They sold an average of 300,000 units each, with the top seller, *The Last Broadcast*, breaking 500,000 by the end of the week.

When all was said and done, while the game’s total earnings weren’t massive, its profit margin was the second-highest of all Zog’s games, an astonishing 98.8%. Even after donating 10%, plenty was left over.

Its costs were just that low.

Incidentally, the game with the highest profit margin was Zog’s first title, a simple jumping game.

He had whipped it up with his claws in a single night, so its cost was effectively zero.

As for his highest-earning game, that title used to belong to his auto-chess game, but *Path of Conquest* had since come from behind to overtake it.

Games monetized through power-ups and stats were just too good at raking in cash.

’As expected, power gamers are always the most willing to spend.’

Meanwhile, as *This War of Mine* was flying off the shelves, the organizers of the art festival also set their sights on the game.

Publicly, they feigned disdain for video games, but that was only because the primary consumers of art weren’t fond of them.

The regular art buyers were middle-aged and older nobles. They typically looked down on video games and, with their own children often addicted to them, had come to loathe them.

They had the art festival backed into a corner.

"Don’t get involved with games; it’s demeaning."

In reality, the festival organizers didn’t have such strong opinions against games. Some artists did, of course, believing that games couldn’t be considered a legitimate art form.

But if the Zog Group were to commission design work from them, they would all agree without a moment’s hesitation.

After all, Zog’s claw was famously generous.

「At the offices of the art festival organizers」

"Well? What’s the verdict?" the director-general asked.

He didn’t have time to play games himself, but he had assigned one of his subordinates to research their "competitor."

As the director-general, he wasn’t a fool. He had to hedge his bets. To his old clients, he would stand firm: games were not a form of art, just childish toys.

But behind closed doors, he was racking his brain trying to build a bridge to the gaming world.

He was keenly aware that the gaming industry could support artists by the score.

It was a well-known fact in the industry that while top-tier artists earned a fortune, those at the bottom could barely scrape by.

This was, of course, detrimental to the industry’s growth. Barring a few rare geniuses or those with family money, most aspiring artists couldn’t make it past their training period and ended up changing careers.

There was no fertile ground for cultivating high-level artists.

The gaming industry, however, needed a massive number of skilled artists whose abilities didn’t have to be world-class.

’What a perfect industry,’ he thought.

Zog didn’t need to work with them, but they desperately wanted to work with Zog.

"It’s excellent," replied the man who had been assigned to play the game.

"Can you praise it from an artistic standpoint?"

This was crucial for the director-general. If they praised it from an artistic angle, their old clients wouldn’t be so repulsed. Once the clients gradually came around to accepting games, the Artists Association could have its cake and eat it too.

In fact, they had come close to succeeding once before, when a game called *Monument Valley* was released.

They had hyped up its art style to the heavens.

But Zog had ignored them and never made another game in that style.

"Er, the art style is quite unique. It uses a sketch-like aesthetic with a heavy use of cool tones, giving the visuals a very stark quality. It strikes a delicate balance between realism and artistry, perfectly showcasing the cruelty of war."

"Go on, go on. Is there more?"

"And, um, the storytelling is exceptional, displaying a certain literary flair. While the prose itself isn’t particularly masterful, its strength lies in its sincere emotion. This is especially true in the *Father’s Promise* story mode, which uses a clever narrative device to give the story both depth and intrigue..."

"Yes, exactly! Just like that. Write an article for public release. Use your own name for now, not the Artists Association’s."

’Surely Zog will understand my intentions and come to me for a partnership.’

The director-general gave a faint smile, as if everything was perfectly under control.

...

Two days later, an article titled "On the Excellent Artistic Aesthetic in the Game *This War of Mine*" appeared in the newspaper Zog held in his claw.

Zog read it through carefully.

He had to admit, the praise was so lavish it was making him blush.

Calling him an "explorer of artistic styles," a "practitioner of combined art forms..."

They were really piling on the praise.

’Cultured people sure know how to kiss ass.’

’It might be a bit of an act.’

But as it happened, Zog was a total sucker for this kind of thing.

He glanced at the author’s name—unfamiliar—and their title: Senior Member of the Artists Association.

"Hey, Elsa, poach this guy from the Artists Association. Have him write game reviews for us."

"The Artists Association? Aren’t they our competitors right now?"

"That’s why I said to poach him. As for the Artists Association... they can go pound sand."