Video Game Tycoon in Tokyo-Chapter 857: Need a Hand?

Stanford University ranked second globally in Computer Science and Information Systems in 2018 in the original world.

It was a top-tier institution known for its pioneering and enterprising spirit.

But in the world Takayuki now inhabited, Stanford had achieved this honor even earlier, and taken it a step further: in 2003, its Computer Science and Information Systems program was ranked number one in the world, a position it would dominate for seven consecutive years.

They were the first to realize the future potential of internet and electronic technologies, and had laid the groundwork early, collaborating with numerous top-tier scientific corporations to solidify their position.

Among those companies, one stood out as Stanford's closest partner. The university even created an entirely new academic program specifically for it—becoming the first in the world to offer a specialized degree in this field.

That program was called Digital Arts, though a more familiar name would be: Video Game Studies.

To date, Stanford had produced over a hundred first-rate game developers and designers, many of whom now held senior positions across major game companies.

Among all the companies these graduates joined, the one that recruited the most of them was Starlight (星彩).

This elite game development firm—nicknamed the Stanford Legion—was tasked with solving the industry's most complex technical challenges. It was the muscle and brain behind many best-selling titles, and a cornerstone of the gaming industrial complex.

And its leader?

A woman from Japan—Aya Tsukino.

A Stanford alumna herself, she was a renowned expert in computer programming with a name recognized throughout the industry.

To this day, Starlight's achievements were legendary:

The first to resolve real-time motion capture integration in games.

A driving force behind the Unreal Engine's next-gen upgrade—essentially leading the Unreal Engine's evolution to version 4.

They solved complex optimization issues in 3D games and perfected polygon compression, greatly reducing development costs.

If Gamestar (游星电子娱乐) was the empire of the game world, Starlight was its church.

"From now on, any technical issues in development will be handled by Aya Tsukino's team," Takayuki said. "Kita, you don't need to worry about system complexity. Just focus on creating as much rich content as you can."

Hitomi Kita opened her mouth, trying to respond, but in the end, only managed a firm nod.

"I understand, President. I'll do my best!"

Then, Takayuki delegated additional responsibilities:

Side quest design and difficulty curve balancing to Junya Noro of the Fourth Development Division.

Dungeon and mission systems to Ei Uchiyama of the Ninth Development Division.

Each of them had distinct strengths. Takayuki's goal now was to bring these uniquely talented people together into one grand collaboration.

"Additionally," Takayuki continued, "some of our developers in the U.S. will also be joining this project. After all, the world we're creating is Night City—a world of different cultures, beliefs, and ideologies. This project must reflect that diversity."

He looked around at everyone in the room. "So I ask you all—give it everything you've got. Help me bring to life a game that's as close to perfection as possible."

At that moment, it felt like flames had been lit in every pair of eyes in the room.

They were no longer just developers. They were pioneers—driven by a fire long buried, now reignited.

After the meeting ended, Aya Tsukino walked out of the room alongside Takayuki.

"Takayuki," she asked seriously, "is this what you've always dreamed of? Creating a world?"

It was the first time she had seen Takayuki so solemn and focused.

It wasn't that he hadn't taken past projects seriously. It was just that this time, something felt different.

"I just want to make a game... with no regrets," Takayuki replied with a faint smile.

Of course, in his heart, "no regrets" had a deeper meaning. But Aya only understood it at the surface level.

"Aya," he said gently, "I'm entrusting you with all the technical aspects of this game. You're the only one I trust for this."

Aya replied without hesitation, "We're one and the same. You can count on me completely."

At that moment, Takayuki's assistant came rushing toward them and bowed deeply.

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"President Takayuki, we've received an invitation from Minister Shizuoka Jirō of the Ministry of Education, Culture, Sports, Science and Technology."

"An invitation?"

Takayuki knew the Ministry well. Over the years, it had been a key partner in many government collaborations, always supporting Gamestar's initiatives. Even after two changes in leadership, their relationship had remained strong.

The assistant handed him a formal envelope, sealed with the Ministry's stamp.

Takayuki opened it and read the handwritten message inside—it was a very personal and heartfelt invitation from the newly appointed minister himself.

Minister Shizuoka Jirō, in a personal capacity, was inviting Takayuki to his home for a private dinner. And the purpose was clearly stated: he hoped Takayuki could support him in achieving some political achievements.

Ah, another "mutual benefit" request.

A fair exchange, really—Gamestar would gain influence or support, and the minister would gain recognition and results.

After reading, Takayuki handed the letter to Aya to let her take a look too.

He said, "Let's go. We'll treat this evening like a small break before the coming storm. What's ahead of us won't be easy."

Aya read the letter and nodded. "Then don't stay too late. I'll prepare your outfit for the evening."

"Alright."

Back in his office, Takayuki asked his assistant to gather a full dossier on Minister Shizuoka Jirō.

Shizuoka Jirō, 45 years old—young for a cabinet minister, which spoke to his ambition and capability.

He had risen quickly through the ranks: originally just a team leader at the Ministry of Fisheries, he climbed one rung per year, and within a decade became the Minister of Education, Culture, Sports, Science and Technology.

Assuming nothing unexpected happened, he was clearly headed for an even brighter future.

One rank a year—that level of ambition was no joke. He clearly hoped to rack up achievements quickly and continue his rise.

Now the question is...Should I help him?