The WWgame platform is a fairly well-known indie game platform in the Huaxia Nation.
It's mostly populated by various small studios and individual game creators, all of whom share one thing in common—limited funds.
Without big-name endorsements or investments from rich men, they don't have the substantial funds to afford intricate artwork and skins, let alone well-known voice actors, and their copywriting and plot planning are often shoddy.
The upside is that the games on this platform naturally have a lower pay-to-win threshold compared to regular games.
Spend just ten to several tens of units, and you can buy heaps of joy that are crudely made.
Don't mind if the character models are monstrous, just tell me how high the numbers get when I smash with my hammer!
Tell me if that drawing of Naiko swings or not!
If it doesn't despise my poverty, why should I criticize its shoddiness?
It's the Cyberpunk Slum, really.
Of course, you do occasionally get some individual designers with brilliant ideas who upload their earnest yet impoverished creations to the WWgame platform.
So, some veteran players manage to find gold among the dross.
This is currently the best place for Ke Jin.
All he needs to do is pay an operation fee of 5000 units to get an entry ticket and some degree of platform promotion.
That's the deal for those without early-stage marketing.
After some sweet-talk and deception, he convinced his naive younger sister to fish out 5000 units of her private savings. Facing submission, a troubled Ke Yu said with a pained expression, "Brother, you have to make it work, it's all of my dowry money."
"Don't worry! Once I make money, forget just the dowry, even if you are a bride on steroids, I'll cover your betrothal gifts!" Ke Jin assured, thumping his chest.
As if he could actually make any money.
What kind of fool would spend "1000 units" on his own pay-to-win project?
With "1000 units" you can indulge in pleasure, wouldn't that be far more enjoyable than this?
Of course, if the game doesn't make any money, that's when the real opportunity to make a fortune arises! Ke Jin knew this very well.
"Pah, you're the bride on steroids! I don't like my best friend at all!" Ke Yu came to her senses and immediately launched a counterattack.
...
After submitting a series of producer information, he quietly waited for WWgame to verify it.
Ke Jin didn't sit idle during this time.
Relying solely on WWgame's promotion wasn't enough to gather 1000 players to try out his game, he reckoned.
Fortunately, he also had an account on the Thunderbolt livestreaming platform. Since he couldn't afford to hire expensive streamers to draw in viewers, he'd take the reins himself!
With nothing left for his sister to do, Ke Jin quickly drew a pie in the sky to block his sister from bothering him, guzzling water. He swiftly logged into his livestream host account and updated his room title.
[New Game Beta Testing, Humble Creator Online Begging for Trials!]
This account had always been for Ke Jin's private use, usually just to recharge on some spicy dance moves from streamer girls, with not many followers.
However, it seemed the new game title had piqued the interest of a small number of people.
A few minutes into the broadcast, a handful of curious viewers trickled in. When they saw Ke Jin's spartan livestreaming room and the classic, poverty-colored bold white characters above saying 'The host is a game designer, I hope everyone will honor me with a trial of my new game,'
the comments in the chat started to tease.
"Alright, so this is how we're doing promotion!"
"This is the first time I've seen such a bare-bones promotion… A person, a chair, a camera, a computer and it's done? But, you know what, the main host is kinda handsome."
"The main host knows how to save money."
"My grandma in the far-off countryside would praise the host for being sensible."
"It's thrifty, sure, but there's no popularity. I suggest the host hire a prostitute to wiggle in front of the camera, the popularity would definitely be higher than now!"
"Is there a possibility that the host just has no money?"
"If worst comes to worst, let the host wiggle in front of the camera himself, I could begrudgingly make do."
"Anything that gets you going will ensure you get a balanced diet!"
Ignoring the sarcastic comments, he glanced over the real-time viewership in the backend.
Hmm, nine people, charge!
Ke Jin wasted no time in small talk and dragged out "Origin of Species" from his desktop, double-clicking to open it while saying,
"Hello everyone, let me introduce to you the new game I've created. Its name is…"
But before he could finish, a comment came in.
"Hold it, I'm just here for the laughs, I don't plan on playing your game. This kind of poor man's promotion means the game can't be that good…"
"Hm?"
The mockery hadn't finished when an ultra-blue, techno UI interface appeared before everyone's eyes.
The future-esque sci-fi frame, and the 'ding-dong' mechanical alert sound that echoed with a click of the mouse, alongside four words that glowed with a metallic coolness—Origin of Species.
It certainly gave off the impression that there was a decent budget involved.
But that was about it.
That UI, normally, isn't too eye-catching. There were plenty better than it out there.
However, the stark contrast between Ke Jin's rudimentary livestreaming setup and the well-funded game UI induced a bit of heartache, as if 'he put all his food money into making this game.'
This contrast made a few viewers about to leave hesitate, their hands poised over the 'exit' button.
"Oh? A sci-fi themed game?"
"Interesting, I have a fair interest in sci-fi."
"The UI is not bad. Let's see the illustrations and the voice acting; if they're decent, I might just give it a try."
As Ke Jin started the live demonstration, the chatter in the chat quieted down, with everyone eagerly awaiting the content to follow.