But Brian Clark couldn’t ask Manager Foster for more people, because Manager Foster himself knew that this project was on the verge of collapse. The original artists had all been reassigned, so spending money to hire new artists now would be ridiculous. The company would never approve that budget.

So Brian Clark started scheming. Since this new intern was good at drawing, he decided to have him do concept art—using a 4,000/month intern as an 8,000/month concept artist, at least to get some more attractive art assets.

When the new version launched, with a few cool new mechas, players would spend money, profits would go up, and all the credit would naturally go to Brian Clark, who had been pushing for new mecha designs in the new version.

William Carter understood all these twists and turns, but his refusal wasn’t aimed at Brian Clark; he was just standing up for himself.

You want me to selflessly contribute, and then you take all the credit? How is that possible?

Someone like Jason Foster, as a supervisor, would never make such a request of William Carter, because he knows it’s unreasonable and excessive. This was clearly Brian Clark’s own little scheme.

As a result, the whole afternoon went by and Brian Clark didn’t say another word to William Carter. He didn’t even invite him to dinner in the evening, just left on his own.

William Carter didn’t care either. Since you’ve gone to eat, I’ll just go home.

Although the project wasn’t doing well, there were still a few people working overtime, Brian Clark among them.

As for “overtime,” William Carter had seen plenty of it in his previous life. Simply put: if you’re working overtime for your own goals, it’s worth it no matter how much; but if you’re just pretending to be busy, or taking on work far beyond your capacity, you’re just wasting your life.

Half an hour later, Brian Clark and a few other employees came back.

Looking at the nearby shut-down computer and the chair pushed under the desk, it was obvious that William Carter had already left for the day.

Brian Clark was even more annoyed. He had thought William Carter would at least pretend to work hard on his first day, but instead, he just patted his butt and left.

“Hmph, I’ll give him a good talking-to tomorrow.”

Brian Clark sat down at his workstation and continued with his own work.

At that moment, the internal messaging software popped up with a message: “Brian Clark, you and Eric Turner come to my office.”

Brian Clark saw it was from supervisor Jason Foster, so he didn’t dare delay and hurried off to Jason Foster’s office with Eric Turner.

Eric Turner was the lead designer of “Mecha Era” and had just come back from dinner. He and Brian Clark arrived at Jason Foster’s office together.

Jason Foster was flipping through design documents on his computer. When he saw Brian Clark and Eric Turner come in, he pointed to the empty seats beside him. “Sit.”

Brian Clark and Eric Turner sat down. They didn’t even need to guess—they knew it was about the new version.

Jason Foster took his eyes off the design documents and looked at them. “How’s the new version coming along? It’s launching the day after tomorrow, so don’t let anything go wrong.”

Eric Turner said, “No big problems, progress is fairly smooth, but we’ll probably all have to work overtime tomorrow night. Also, on the art side… progress is a bit behind. We’re still missing concept art and models for three mechas. We should be able to finish one by launch, but the other two… we’ll have to cut them and save them for the next version.”

Jason Foster frowned. “The new mechas… maybe just tweak the old ones a bit, change the color, make do… or just cut them, yeah, let’s cut them.”

Jason Foster had known about the lack of art for a while, but there wasn’t much he could do. Of course, as project supervisor, he could ask upper management for more people, but he didn’t have the nerve to do it!

Right now, “Mecha Era” was making less than a million a month. After all the splits and marketing expenses, net profit was maybe just over 200,000. That barely kept the project afloat—it was about to become a money-losing venture. How could he ask for more people?

Unless the project became profitable, only then could he justifiably ask for more staff.

For now? Just make do. Honestly, Jason Foster himself didn’t have much confidence in this new version. Working overtime on it felt more like a last-ditch effort, hoping for a miracle.

Chapter 9: You Write the New Version Plan!

Brian Clark felt this was a good chance to show off. “Manager Foster, I’ve added backstories for all the mechas and pilots. If I work overtime these next couple of days, I should be able to finish before the new version goes live. It should help a bit.”

Jason Foster nodded. “Alright, let’s hope so.”

Of course, Jason Foster knew these so-called “backstories” were basically useless. Who would read the backstory for every mecha when playing on a wristband? It was all just text—eye-straining to look at.

Expecting players to spend money because of these backstories? That was pure fantasy.

Still, as the world architect, Brian Clark taking the initiative to do this showed he was responsible. That kind of attitude should be encouraged.

Suddenly, Jason Foster thought of William Carter and asked Brian Clark, “That new intern, William Carter, how did he do today?”