diskusbooks #502 - Longteng and Sony in crisis
#502 - Longteng and Sony in crisis
Meanwhile, Long Teng Corporation's "City Simulation: Infinite" was a complete disaster.
After its release, "City Simulation: Infinite" failed to achieve the glorious results Long Teng Corporation had anticipated. Instead, the game triggered a series of serious problems, leading to strong dissatisfaction and fierce protests from the player community.
First, the game was plagued with technical issues. Despite Long Teng Corporation's claims that their hardware could support this grand open-world game, the reality was quite different. Players found that the game often suffered from severe lag and frame rate drops, making it difficult to run smoothly even on high-end devices. To make matters worse, the game also had numerous crashes and data loss issues, causing many players to repeatedly lose their game progress.
Second, the promised "extremely detailed" rendering in the game failed to materialize. Players discovered that the buildings and scenes in the game often featured low-quality textures and rough models. The pedestrians and vehicles on the streets moved stiffly, far from the "lifelike" quality advertised. Some players even mocked, "This isn't a next-gen game; it's clearly from the last century's graphics."
Even more disappointing was that the promised "infinite" open world in the game was actually full of various restrictions and boundaries. Players quickly found that the so-called "ten thousand square kilometers" of city area was mostly pieced together from repetitive scenes, lacking uniqueness and exploratory value. Many buildings could not be entered, and the street design was monotonous and dull, leaving players feeling extremely bored and deceived.
The game's online system also suffered from serious problems. Servers frequently crashed, preventing players from logging into the game properly. Even when successfully logged in, interactions between players often experienced delays and disconnections. One player angrily stated, "This isn't an MMORPG; it's just a single-player game with a lousy chat room!"
However, what angered players the most was the "horror" element added to the game. The "highly impactful horror segments" proposed by Pei Shengnan far exceeded the players' acceptance range in actual experience. Many players reported that the horror scenes in the game were too realistic and stimulating, causing them to experience severe psychological discomfort and even panic attacks and nightmares.
One player angrily complained on social media, "I just wanted to play a city simulation game, but I almost had a heart attack! This isn't a game; it's mental abuse!" Another player said, "My younger brother couldn't sleep well for several nights after playing this game, always waking up in fright. How can this kind of game be allowed to be released?"
...
Meanwhile, in the Long Teng Corporation office.
Allen stared at the computer screen, his hands trembling as he typed on the keyboard. His Twitter feed was constantly refreshing, and each new tweet made his heart sink deeper.
"Another crash! This is the fifth time today!"
"Can someone tell me what garbage I bought for $250?"
"Long Teng Corporation, are you kidding me? This isn't an 'infinite' world!"
Allen took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. As the chief programmer of Long Teng Corporation's "City Simulation: Infinite," he knew exactly how bad things were.
Only three days after the game's release, the internet had exploded. Reddit, Twitter, game forums—everywhere was filled with angry players. Allen felt like he was standing in the eye of a hurricane, with anger coming at him from all directions.
"Hey, Allen!" colleague Tom pushed open the office door, his expression more grave than usual. "Have you seen the latest game scores?"
Allen shook his head; he couldn't bring himself to look at any related news anymore.
Tom sighed. "IGN gave it a 3.5, and GameSpot gave it a 4. These are the lowest scores they've ever given a AAA title."
Allen felt a wave of dizziness. They had spent three years developing this game, which was supposed to be Long Teng Corporation's trump card, but now it had become a laughingstock.
Just then, Allen's phone vibrated. It was a message from his girlfriend, Lisa: "Honey, are you okay? I saw the comments online."
Allen was about to reply when the office door was suddenly pushed open. President Pei Shengnan stormed in, his face livid.
"Explain!" Pei Shengnan roared, "Why did it turn out like this? Where is the 'infinite' world we promised? Where are the detailed graphics? Where is the smooth gameplay?"
Allen stammered, unsure how to respond. He knew where the problems lay—they were too ambitious and underestimated the technical difficulty; they sacrificed too much quality control to rush the project; they added those disturbing "horror" elements without fully considering player acceptance.
"President Pei, we are working hard to fix the bugs," Allen said weakly.
"Fix?" Pei Shengnan sneered. "Do you think it's just a matter of fixing things now? Look at this!"
He slammed a tablet on the table. The screen showed a news headline: "Players Develop Severe Anxiety from 'City Simulation: Infinite,' Family Sues Long Teng Corporation."
Allen felt his blood run cold. He remembered vehemently opposing the inclusion of those overly realistic horror elements, but ultimately succumbed to pressure from his superiors.
"We're finished," Pei Shengnan said, slumping into his chair. "The stock price has plummeted by 50%, investors are demanding my resignation, and government agencies are starting to investigate us."
Just then, a commotion suddenly erupted outside the office. Allen got up to check and found the hallway filled with people—the company's employees.
"What's going on?" Pei Shengnan frowned.
A young intern timidly said, "President Pei, there are protesters outside."
Allen rushed to the window and pulled open the blinds. To his shock, the street outside the company building was packed with people. They were holding up signs that read "Give me back my hard-earned money," "Long Teng Corporation, get out of the gaming industry," and so on.
Among the crowd, Allen saw some familiar faces—players whose feedback they had ignored during the game testing phase.
"What should we do?" Tom asked desperately.
Pei Shengnan was silent for a long time, finally saying, "Hold a press conference. We need to apologize to everyone. Then... then stop selling the game and offer full refunds."
Allen felt the world spinning. So much effort, all going down the drain?
His phone vibrated again; it was another message from Lisa: "Don't worry, no matter what happens, I'll be by your side."
Allen smiled bitterly. At least in this crazy world, there was someone supporting him. But, facing the storm ahead, how long could they hold on? The failure of "City Simulation: Infinite" might just be the beginning of a nightmare...
...
Inside Sony Corporation's headquarters, a cloud of gloom hung heavy.
Gunpei Yokoi stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, his hands clasped behind his back, gazing at the distant Tokyo skyline. His face was etched with fatigue and frustration, his eyes flickering with unease.
"Mr. Yokoi," his assistant said softly, "the latest sales figures and player feedback reports are out."
Yokoi slowly turned around, taking the tablet handed to him by his assistant. His hand trembled slightly, and he took a deep breath before beginning to browse the report.
As he flipped through the pages, his face grew paler. "The Last of Us 3" had only reached 30% of its expected first-week sales, and player ratings had plummeted below 5 points on major platforms. Social media was flooded with criticism and mockery of the game.
"How could this happen?" Yokoi murmured to himself. "We invested so many resources, so much effort..."
Just then, the office door was pushed open. Marketing Manager Maruyama rushed in, his face etched with anxiety.
"Mr. Yokoi! The situation is terrible!" Maruyama said breathlessly. "Someone has started a boycott against Sony online, and over 100,000 people have already joined!"
Yokoi felt a wave of dizziness, barely managing to steady himself by holding onto the table. His trembling fingers tapped on Twitter, and the homepage was immediately flooded with angry tweets.
"#SonyGetOutOfTheGamingIndustry"
"#RefundTheLastOfUs3"
"#VirtualRealityNightmare"
These hashtags were like sharp blades, piercing Yokoi's heart.
One tweet caught his attention:
"Just played 'The Last of Us 3' for two hours, and now I just want to throw up. Those realistic zombie scenes and bloody images are giving me nightmares. Sony, are you making games or destroying humanity? #RefundTheLastOfUs3"
Another comment was even more alarming:
"My younger brother developed severe anxiety symptoms after playing this game. Those terrifying scenes caused him severe psychological trauma. Sony, you will be held responsible! #SueSony"
Yokoi felt dizzy; he staggered to a chair and sat down, covering his face with his hands.
"We... how could we make such a mistake?" he murmured to himself.
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Just then, Takahashi from the legal department rushed into the office, his face ashen.
"Mr. Yokoi," Takahashi's voice trembled, "we have just received dozens of lawsuits from all over the world! Players are claiming that our game has caused them psychological trauma and physical discomfort."
Yokoi felt his heart almost stop beating. He raised his head with difficulty, looked around, and found that the office was already crowded with heads of various departments, each with a look of fear and despair on their faces.
"There's even worse news," Public Relations Director Suzuki said in a low voice, "Several mainstream media outlets are preparing an in-depth investigative report, claiming that we added some kind of subconscious manipulation technology to the game, intending to influence players' minds."
Yokoi suddenly stood up. "That's absurd! How could we do such a thing?"
"The problem is," Suzuki said bitterly, "a large number of players have already begun to believe this claim. They claim to have felt a strange fear and anxiety while playing the game, and some have even said they saw hallucinations that were not in the game."
Yokoi felt a wave of dizziness. He steadied himself on the table and said with difficulty: "We must hold a press conference immediately to clarify these rumors..."
Before he could finish speaking, Finance Minister Yamada interrupted him: "Mr. Yokoi, I'm afraid we won't have that opportunity. The company's stock price has plummeted by 35% in the past 24 hours, and the board of directors is holding an emergency meeting to discuss whether to stop selling 'The Last of Us 3' and issue full refunds."
This news was like a heavy hammer, hitting Yokoi's heart hard. He staggered back a few steps and slumped into his chair.
"How could this happen..." he murmured to himself, "We just wanted to create an unforgettable gaming experience..."
Just then, his personal phone rang. It was his wife.
"Honey," his wife's voice was full of worry, "Are you okay? I saw the news about Sony."
Yokoi forced a smile. "I'm fine, don't worry."
After hanging up the phone, he took a deep breath and stood up.
"Everyone," he looked around, his voice tired but still firm, "What we need to do now is face reality and solve the problem. First, immediately stop the sale of 'The Last of Us 3' and issue a notice of full refund to all purchasers."
"Second," he continued, "We need to form a crisis public relations team to immediately handle these negative news and lawsuits. At the same time, I want a technical team to thoroughly check the game code to ensure that there are no problems that may cause player discomfort."
"Finally," Yokoi's voice became even more determined, "We must sincerely apologize to all players. Acknowledge our mistakes in the game design, and promise to learn from the lessons and bring better gaming experiences to players in the future."
The people in the office looked at each other and nodded slowly. Although the outlook was still grim, Yokoi's words gave them a glimmer of hope.
However, Yokoi knew that this was just the beginning of a long battle. He looked out the window, the sky over Tokyo was gloomy, as if foreshadowing the coming storm.
In the days that followed, Sony Corporation fell into an unprecedented crisis.
Negative media reports poured in like a tide, with new accusations and criticisms every day. On social media, the topic "#SonyGetOutOfTheGamingIndustry" continued to ferment, even spreading to Sony's other product lines.
Some extreme players began holding protests outside Sony's physical stores, holding up signs with slogans such as "Give me back my physical and mental health" and "Sony is harming people."
Worse still, some competitors began to take advantage of the situation. Nintendo and Microsoft issued statements emphasizing their emphasis on the physical and mental health of players in the game development process, subtly mocking Sony's approach.
Yokoi was constantly attending various crisis meetings, giving media interviews, and discussing response strategies with the legal team. His hair had turned much whiter in just a few weeks, and the bags under his eyes were getting deeper and deeper.
One late night, as Yokoi finally finished his day's work and was preparing to leave the office, his assistant said softly:
"Mr. Yokoi, there is some news you should probably know."
Yokoi raised his head wearily. "What is it?"
"We just received news," the assistant hesitated for a moment, but still said it, "A player... because he was addicted to the virtual world of 'The Last of Us 3', developed severe reality cognitive impairment. He... he hurt his family and has now been arrested by the police."
Yokoi felt his heart suddenly stop beating. He staggered back a few steps, leaning against the wall to barely steady himself.
"This... this is impossible," he murmured to himself, his voice filled with pain and self-blame.
At that moment, Yokoi realized that this crisis had far exceeded his imagination. It was not only about the company's reputation and interests, but also about people's lives and safety.
He sighed deeply and slowly walked to the window. In the Tokyo night, neon lights still flickered, but in Yokoi's eyes, the city seemed to have lost its former glory.
"What exactly did we do wrong?" he asked softly, his eyes blankly gazing into the distance. "We just wanted to create an unforgettable gaming experience, how could it have led to such a tragedy?"
Outside the window, dark clouds gathered, as if a huge storm was brewing. Yokoi knew that for Sony, and for the entire gaming industry, the real test had just begun.