In Takayuki's memory, Steam saw dozens of new games go live every day—amounting to tens of thousands each year.
Among these, the biggest contributors were undoubtedly indie games.
In Takayuki's view, the gaming industry rests on two main pillars: one is independent games, and the other is large-scale industrial productions.These two types of game development are complementary, and each deserves its own fertile ground to grow.
Currently, the total number of games on the BattleNet platform has just surpassed one thousand. Among them, nearly a hundred are various titles provided by Gamestar Entertainment itself.Older games that had been released on FC and SFC platforms were also ported to BattleNet. To make these compatible with modern systems, Gamestar even created a dedicated legacy game optimization team.
The money made from selling these old games just about balanced out the team's costs. Since the team was self-sustaining, Takayuki had no further demands for them.What they were doing held far more cultural value than pure profitability.
Takayuki vividly remembered how frustrating it was to dig through obscure corners of the internet just to play a childhood favorite.But for regular publishers, re-releasing old games for niche players is an unprofitable task—it's easier to have the team work on newer, more valuable projects.
…
…
This is the natural result of capital-driven logic.
And, of course, there's nothing wrong with capital seeking profit.It just depends on what different people choose to pursue.
Takayuki didn't want gamers in this world to suffer the same frustrating experience he once had. That's why he remained committed to preserving the old—just like how he insisted on continuing to produce the original FC console.Not to make money, but to educate more people about video game culture.
Film, literature, anime—these industries all have ways of preserving history.A movie made decades ago can still be watched today.But video games, after a generation or two of console upgrades, may become completely unplayable.That, to Takayuki, was tantamount to throwing history away.
He wanted people—even a hundred years from now—to still have the chance to experience the golden era built by gaming's pioneers.
But back to the matter at hand: he needed his team to figure out how to solve the current problem of game quantity.
In the realm of cultural production, game development likely has the highest barrier of entry.You need to know a little bit of everything—coding, art, music, level design, even cinematography.
No other creative field is quite this complex.And that naturally scares off many aspiring developers before they even begin.
Unfortunately, Takayuki couldn't think of a quick fix.
The Unreal Engine team had already done everything they could to lower the bar.Per Takayuki's direction, they'd streamlined the workflow as much as possible, added ready-made character templates, reduced the need for coding, and built a massive library of drop-in assets.
But even then, it was still too complicated for most people.
Even in Takayuki's original timeline, this problem hadn't been fully solved.
Back then, Unreal Engine had made remarkable progress—but where he was now, they'd only just reached the capabilities of Unreal 3.To lower the bar further, they'd need to keep pushing forward.
So, for now, Unreal Engine was suitable for intermediate developers—not beginners.
At this point, Takayuki recalled a classic game-making tool: RPGMaker.It became a cult hit in his past life, and now seemed like a perfect addition to the Unreal ecosystem.
Still, it had its downsides—mainly, that it could feel a bit dull.
So, was there a way to make game development fun?Could there be a method that was easy to pick up, not boring, and encouraged creative expression?
"Do any of you have ideas on how to lower the barrier of entry for making games? Something that lets people experience the joy of creating their own games?" he asked.
Berlaid, the BattleNet platform lead, paused to think.
In truth, he already felt there were too many games. He could barely play what was already out there.He didn't really understand why they needed even more.
But since the president had asked, he gave it some thought and replied, "How about launching more training programs to teach people how to make games?"
Takayuki nodded. "That's fine too. We can also create online tutorials for simple development techniques… but that still feels like a temporary fix. I want something even simpler—something that lowers the threshold entirely."
As he spoke, he browsed through the list of games currently available on BattleNet.
Of the 1,000+ titles, many were genuinely good.The platform was already off to a solid start.Takayuki knew his standards might seem a little extreme.
But after having lived through the golden age of gaming, it was only natural that he wouldn't be content with what they had now.The people of this world just didn't get it yet.
You could never have too many games.The more, the better. The more variety, the better.A massive catalog meant they could cater to all kinds of player interests.
Mainstream titles would draw in mainstream users, but for the less conventional gamers, they needed a massive volume of diverse games to catch their attention.
"President, how about organizing game design contests? That might boost production too."
"Not a bad idea."
It reminded him of Game Jams from his past life—events where passionate devs teamed up to create games in a short timeframe.That could work well here.
Trying all these approaches seemed like the right call.
As Takayuki pondered the issue, his eyes fell on a particular game.
It was one of his own titles—developed specifically to help capture the European market: Counter-Strike.
Thanks to its strong competitive mechanics, it had made waves as soon as it was released.
Originally, internet cafés weren't all that popular. Most people just loitered online.Then StarCraft arrived, offering a taste of head-to-head excitement.
As the saying goes, "There's no joy like competing with others."Most players crave that kind of thrill.
Games with a competitive edge always earned extra attention.
But what Takayuki was thinking about wasn't Counter-Strike's esports potential.
He was remembering something else entirely.
Counter-Strike had started out as a heavily modified version of another game—a so-called MOD.
It was later hailed as one of the greatest mods ever made, opening the floodgates for countless aspiring developers.
You didn't need to build everything from scratch.With a well-designed, open system, the community's imagination could flourish—creating endless new gameplay ideas and giving a single game infinite potential.