For games that could integrate both VR and AR technology, drawing inspiration from the concepts in Dream Memory, John felt the possibilities were incredibly intriguing. However, the idea only lingered briefly in his mind before the following remarks shifted his focus, prompting him to temporarily shelve the concept.
If such a project were ever to move forward, the offline infrastructure he had previously discussed with Armani would be essential. Moreover, compared to pure VR, the addition of AR technology would likely demand collaboration with specialized hardware manufacturers. Although it was entirely feasible to begin laying groundwork on PC and mobile platforms in advance, John chose not to reveal his intentions too early. Timing, after all, was everything.
As a seasoned person in the gaming industry, Byrum possessed deep insight into game development. Their conversation proved mutually beneficial, offering John several fresh perspectives.
"When you go on stage later, what do you plan to talk about, Mr. John?" The three of them chatted enthusiastically before settling into a quiet corner of the hall. As the conversation eased, Byrum casually posed the question.
John didn't bother to hide anything. "Mostly formal topics, general perspectives on games."
In truth, not just him, but nearly every invited speaker would cover similarly official content. It sounded meaningful on the surface, yet offered little substance beneath. After all, while the developers present came from different companies, no one was about to reveal insights that could give others a competitive edge.
And those attending weren't novices. Everyone present had at least some standing in the industry. Basic experiences that might help newcomers held little value here. In the end, most were simply going through the motions.
Byrum had clearly expected this answer. With a knowing smile, he exchanged contact information with John before they parted ways and returned to their respective rooms arranged by the organizers.
After spending two days in the capital with Martel, John initially felt a sense of excitement. However, that enthusiasm faded quickly, turning into mild boredom by the second day. Unlike internationally renowned gaming expos, such as the annual global showcases or the quarterly award ceremonies that drew countless players worldwide, this type of official event was closed off. Every attendee was an industry insider.
The atmosphere felt restrained. Several consecutive lectures dragged on, each more tedious than the last. John himself had intended to speak about attitudes toward games and development philosophy, but even he found his own prepared remarks overly formal and dull.
To his surprise, someone managed to be even more monotonous, Byrum. His speech consisted largely of summarizing recent trends in the gaming industry. In essence, it boiled down to a single statement: the domestic gaming industry was thriving, and its global influence was steadily increasing.
The only silver lining for John was that his phone now contained contact information for numerous well-known developers in the gaming world, along with a few high-ranking officials.
The final awards ceremony was, unsurprisingly, just as uneventful. Leaders took the stage to deliver speeches, winners were announced, and recipients stepped up to give their thanks. The process was rigid and predictable. Even the applause felt synchronized, starting and stopping with mechanical precision, as if it had been rehearsed in advance.
Without question, John emerged as the final winner. Like those before him, he stepped onto the stage, accepted the crystal trophy, and offered a polite smile as he delivered his brief words of gratitude. Soon after, under the closing remarks of the event's leadership, the ceremony officially came to an end.
"You didn't tell me this event would be this boring," John said helplessly, glancing at Martel as he weighed the trophy in his hand. It was nothing more than a standard crystal award, engraved with his name and the title of "Game of the Year." The craftsmanship was decent, but otherwise unremarkable.
"What exactly were you expecting?" Martel replied, at a loss for words.
"I imagined something more lively," John said with a sigh. "Even without live bands or performances, at least there should've been a big screen showcasing the nominated games."
Thinking back, if not for the trophy in his hand, the entire event would have felt like nothing more than an extended lecture.
"Well, it is an official event," Martel said. "But the International Game Awards later this year will attract global attention. You'll definitely have a chance to compete against Power Storm for Best Game of the Year."
There was a hint of envy in his voice. Domestic companies like Gemtechs, Moondustries, and Essence had all submitted entries before, and some had even won awards. Yet, a truly groundbreaking title from a local developer claiming the top honor remained rare. If not for Power Storm's game, Martel believed John would have had this year's award locked in. Now, however, the outcome was uncertain.
Hearing this, John casually placed the trophy in his car, pulled out his phone, snapped a picture, and posted it on Social Tap. With a faint smile, he said, "I did consider attending… but I probably won't have time."
A string of question marks practically appeared above Martel's head as he stared at John in confusion.
"We're planning to get married after the New Year," John said lightly. "You'll probably receive an invitation to the International Game Awards too, but I doubt I'll be able to attend."
Martel froze. For a moment, his expression became indescribably complex.
"Events like that will always come around again," he said after a brief pause, forcing a composed tone. "Besides, Resident Evil 2 should have no problem entering next year's awards. But something as important as your wedding, how could I miss that?"
As he spoke, he watched John casually show off the marriage license photo stored on his phone. For a brief second, Martel felt as though he had overeaten, an uncomfortable fullness settling in his chest.
John chuckled and slipped his phone back into his pocket. "I was actually going to ask you to attend in my place. After all, Armani had already decided to go. But if Koch and the others are available, they can handle it."
Martel opened his mouth, then closed it again. What was he supposed to say? That he hadn't even received an invitation to the International Game Awards?
At that moment, a meme he had once seen in a chat group surfaced in his mind, do you expect me to keep smiling through this?