“It’s been a long time since I stepped away from hands-on work, but I still enjoy games. The one that impressed me most was the wuxia RPG Sword of Empire. You directed that, didn’t you, PD Yoo?”
“That’s right.”
“Do you know why I liked Sword of Empire so much?”
“I’m not sure.”
“I’ve loved wuxia novels since I was a student.”
The unexpected reply left Taeyeon wearing an awkward smile. Chairman Yoo Jinseong chuckled.
“It’s a little early, but shall we have lunch? We can talk more comfortably there than here.”
I doubt anywhere feels “comfortable” right now—even my own apartment.
Taeyeon stood up quietly with that thought.
In a Japanese restaurant, dishes far too luxurious for his ordinary life filled the table.
Seeing Taeyeon hesitate, Chairman Yoo laughed.
“Don’t be shy—eat as much as you like.”
It was the most uncomfortable lunch of Taeyeon’s life.
Even after they moved to a café and chatted about this and that, only one question stuck in his mind when it was over.
—What do you hope to gain from these two projects?
Taeyeon had answered:
“People.”
For a game developer, the greatest treasure is people.
Only good people can make good games, and even a great game means nothing if no one plays it.
So he would build games not for money or fame, but to win “his people.”
Yeah, right.
Truth was, he was just blurting whatever came out.
I want a smash hit, get investors, and start my own studio!
Obviously he couldn’t say that.
Nexple was just another stepping-stone, yet before the top brass he had to act as though it were his final home.
Fortunately Chairman Yoo reacted well.
“People do matter. I’ve only got Director Son here as a close friend, while he has a knack for making many. I’m jealous of that.”
Hearing it, Taeyeon had another thought.
I don’t have friends either.
Since graduating high school he’d poured everything into work; he’d never even dated.
Jong-hak’s a kid brother, not a friend, and that “kid” was about to marry his sweet fiancée.
Money, buddies, a girlfriend… he’s the real winner.
Only now did Taeyeon realize the words had not been a convenient excuse—they were his honest feeling.
If he made games to bring joy to others yet remained lonely himself, what would be the point?
Money? Fame? Look at CEO Kang—having plenty but strangling himself wanting more.
Heading straight for disaster, and Taeyeon could see it plainly. The worst part is Kang had no “people” around to stop him.
I won’t end up like that.
Taeyeon decided that from now on he would hire not the very best, but the best fit. A brilliant dev with awful character who can’t blend with the team is a net minus.
Hire people I want to work with.
From the Pandemonium team only one person fit that bill: scenario designer Baek Younghoon—high potential, full of passion, utterly genuine. The only one who chased after Taeyeon at his resignation, asking to be taken along.
Maybe I’ll ask him to dinner.
Taeyeon sent a cautious text and smiled at the quick reply.
“PD-nim!”
Baek burst into the café and sat down, beaming.
“Doing well? Your hair’s grown a lot.”
“Huh? Oh—I’ve had no time for a cut with all the overtime…”
He gave a gentle smile. After ordering drinks, Taeyeon asked, “How’s the project?”
“You know the CEO took over directing, right? Since then…”
The biggest change was nonstop overtime.
Kang had gathered everyone and said,
—We’re entering emergency mode. Let’s work hard and make a fun game.
And thus began the distinctly un-fun work.
“We started by rewriting every scenario quest. Apparently he hated the old stuff.”
“I see…”
“It’s chaos now. Greek myth, Norse myth, Irish myth… it’s like Myth Online.”
Taeyeon burst out laughing.
Complaints kept coming.
“He says we need ‘relatable storytelling.’ I’m trying, but he micromanages even side quests—impossible to suit his taste.”
“Rough.”
“That’s nothing. Now he wants regional-specialty content, a market economy with trade, companion characters who level up like the protagonist so growth isn’t ‘boring’…”
“A mobile collection-RPG system.”
“And with star ranks, one-star to six-star, native fours and everything. Basically cramming every hot mobile feature in, even monetization. It’s driving us crazy.”
“That’s tough.”
“People are ready to bail. Everyone says it was better when you were here. That’s the state of things.”
Baek’s face was dark. He cared about the project he’d nursed for over a year.
“Watching a good game fall apart in real time is gut-wrenching.”
“I feel bad.”
“You’re the biggest victim—nothing to apologize for. Oh, the title and setting changed too: now it’s ‘Ragnarok of Chaos.’”
“Pffft!”
Coffee shot from Taeyeon’s mouth. Embarrassed, he tried but failed to stop laughing.
“Pu-hahaha!”
“Is it that funny?”
With tears in his eyes, Taeyeon finally calmed down.
“So that’s why all the myths—trying to salvage existing lore.”
“Most think it’s just the CEO’s taste. Anyway, what about you? How have you been?”
Taeyeon told the whole story, as honestly as he could. By the time he finished, night had fallen.
“That’s how it went.”
“Wow… amazing! As expected of PD-nim—getting funding from scary Nexple…”
Baek’s gaze held reverence. Taeyeon waved it off.
“Just good luck. I start in a month.”
“Have you hired anyone else?”
“No.”
“Then I’m the first employee?”
“More or less.”
After a moment’s thought Baek declared, “I’ll quit and join the TF1 right away!”
“Why rush? Quietly work, take your salary, then resign.”
“No. I won’t waste precious time for a paycheck.”
He was firm.
“Brain-storming Pantheon with you sounds far more meaningful.”
His resolve unshakable, Taeyeon smiled.
“Then let’s do that.”
While running the TF with Baek, Taeyeon handled a personal move.
Can’t stay in this dingy studio any longer. I’ve got money—time for an apartment!
Including the copyright fee from Nexple, ten years of steady saving totaled six hundred million won. With a loan, buying was feasible.
He owned little stuff and had long eyed a place, so no reason to wait. Paperwork done, contract in hand, he visited the new complex—clean, sturdy buildings, landscaping and amenities befitting the price.
No need for a car—work’s right next door.
He’d poured nearly every won into housing; frugal living lay ahead.
Move-in: two weeks.
A good home and job—now I just need a lovely girlfriend… easier said than done. Maybe someone could introduce him?
Chuckling, he headed to Nexple. From today they’d borrow a conference room as a temporary studio until the real one was ready.
Most Korean MMORPGs build their lore and main story on Faction War: primordial gods of good and evil clash; the defeated evil secretly seeds followers; kingdoms or races escalate into continent-wide war. A handful of other “rules” have ossified the same way—because genre-defining hits did it first, because gamers and designers absorbed those games, and because it’s convenient for expanding content.
In that sense Pantheon and Pandemonium weren’t so different: story built on faction conflict. The twist—neither game was about good versus evil. Both tackled internal strife first.
“Using myth sources is fine, but they can’t dominate. We need original lore and narrative, with the myths blended in properly.”
“Like Type-Moon’s Fate series?”
“Exactly. I love that franchise—great example.”
Baek nodded, jotting notes. Taeyeon kept writing on the whiteboard.
“If historical accuracy isn’t catchy or trendy, let’s boldly change it.”
“For visuals, how about a sky city mixing past, present, and future—leaning modern?”
“Ground as Yggdrasil, urban governance by an absolute-neutral system—Deus ex Machina forged by gods? Interesting.”
“What if Thor and Artemis have a secret affair and their daughter becomes a main character? Kids born of tangled lusts who clash or unite over interests—could be fun.”
Ideas flew without pause. Some were junk, others promising.
Wouldn’t this be cool?
Would that really be fun?
They traded countless notions, fleshing out the game’s skeleton. Whenever a better concept emerged, Taeyeon tossed old work without regret.
“Don’t worry yet about scope or feasibility. If it’s truly fun we’ll find a way.”
“Reassuring. Then how about city jobs besides combat—players earn money, get night-shift pay… tricky economy system, but awesome if it works!”
The meeting ran late into the night.
A month flashed by.
Leaving his new apartment, Taeyeon arrived at the studio with a fluttering heart. A space big enough for a hundred workstations: Nexple Universe Studio.
“Day one,” he murmured.
Sitting at his freshly prepared desk, he opened email.
Welcome and orientation notes from HR; document templates; approvals. Then one message made him freeze—sent by Cho Seona, Assistant Manager, Talent Management.
“Greetings, PD Yoo Taeyeon. I’m Cho Seona from the Talent Management Division…”
- “TF” is shorthand for a Task Force—a small, dedicated project team assembled on a temporary basis to kick-start work (in this case, to set up the new Pantheon studio and get development rolling before the permanent spaces were ready). ↩︎
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