Chapter 85: MUD Games and “Bad News”

Seiko had been explaining a type of game to Saori—a text-based MUD.
In this kind of game, the plot, character settings, and all interactions were expressed entirely through text.
There wasn’t a single graphic. Everything appeared as simple descriptions like:
“You arrived at a forest,” “You encountered a robber,” “You drew your sword and attacked,” “HP -1 -1 -1,” “You died”…

It sounded primitive and looked crude on the surface, but as long as the writing was rich, the gameplay could actually be quite good—surprisingly good, even.

For a while, text-based MUDs adapted from wuxia novels had been very popular on the neighboring continent.

In her previous life, by the time Seiko got into computer games, the internet era had already arrived, and online games were mainstream. Even so, she had played a text MUD called I Come from the Jianghu.

Text MUDs had some obvious advantages: extremely low hardware requirements and very low development difficulty.

Saori only had average interest in text games, but she was always interested in whatever Seiko liked.
So whether it was accompanying Seiko all afternoon playing Famicom games when she needed a partner, or listening to her passionately ramble about MUDs, Saori was always there.

After talking for a while, Seiko looked around but couldn’t find a trash can.
She turned her head toward the bedroom door and shouted:

“Aiko! Aiko!”

A moment later, the little girl appeared, a pencil still clutched in her hand.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, confused.

“Bring me the trash can,” Seiko said, shaking the tangerine peel in her hand. “I want to throw this away.”

Aiko turned around and toddled off on her short legs.
Soon, she returned hugging a trash can almost half her size.

Seiko tossed the peel in, and Aiko set the trash can directly beside the bed.

“Bring me another tangerine,” Seiko said again.

Aiko rolled her eyes, stomped off, and came back quickly—thump-thump-thump.
She tossed a tangerine onto the bed and announced loudly:

“Why do I have to do everything! I still have homework!”

With cheeks puffed in indignation, she marched back out.

Saori couldn’t help but laugh. “Aiko is a big star now, isn’t she?”

“Not really a big star. She’s got some attention, but she’s at most a little star,” Seiko replied.

Seiko was being modest. Aiko had far surpassed “a little heat.”

Due to overwhelming viewer demand, the Saitama, Chiba, and Kanagawa TV alliance had begun a second rebroadcast of Mother.
This round truly made Aiko famous throughout the Tokyo metropolitan area.
Even the song she performed with her best friend Rika on The Night Comedy Club—Odoru Pompokorin—was climbing the music charts.

It was one of the ending themes of Chibi Maruko-chan, a tune so catchy that people of future generations would be able to hum it effortlessly.

Aiko now had to prepare several performances for TV appearances.
Originally, Seiko had planned to simply plagiarize the children’s song that made Ashida Mana famous.
The song was good, but compared to Odoru Pompokorin, it was far less impactful.

Seiko provided the song, and Aiko’s dance teacher choreographed a lively, adorable routine for the two kids.
At Seiko’s request, the famous “hand-rolling” motion from the original singer was also included.

Aiko’s singing wasn’t on the level of the original vocalist, Tsubokura Yuiko, but a small child rolling her hands was undeniably far cuter.

When Odoru Pompokorin first entered the Oricon charts, it ranked only tenth.
But after Okada Yukiko performed it on another idol program—and imitated the children’s hand-rolling—the popularity soared again.
The song climbed to fifth place in the weekly rankings and showed no signs of dropping anytime soon.

Despite this momentum, Seiko did not push Aiko onto more television programs.
Instead, she let Aiko return to school and attend classes normally.
The Usagi Drop movie team at Bubble Witch was still being assembled, so this was a good time for Aiko to take extra lessons and avoid falling too far behind—and prevent her from becoming a hopeless dunce.

Saori understood Seiko’s career planning perfectly, so she didn’t pry further.

She peeled the tangerine Aiko had thrown on the bed and continued the game conversation.

“So, what kind of MUD do you want to make?”

“Hmmm…”
Seiko looked up at the ceiling, thinking.

The idea of making a text MUD was just a sudden spark brought on by Saori’s question. She hadn’t actually thought through the content yet.

But regarding what sold well, the pioneers had already paved the way.

“On the neighboring continent, MUDs became popular because of the wuxia genre. So in Japan, what’s the equivalent of wuxia? The answer’s obvious—ninjas.”

“The Kouga Ninja Scrolls!”

Seiko snapped her fingers.

“We can adapt The Kouga Ninja Scrolls!’’

“That could work,” Saori nodded.

The Kouga Ninja Scrolls was written by Yamada Futaro—the “Jin Yong of Japan.”
Though not as globally famous as Naruto, its concept of Ninpō (Ninja Arts) was the foundation of “ninjutsu” in Naruto.
And the worldwide ninja image later spread by Japanese pop culture was based far more on Yamada Futaro’s fiction than on historical ninjas.

In this era, The Kouga Ninja Scrolls was wildly popular in Japan, almost as beloved as Jin Yong’s novels were among Chinese readers.

Adapting it into a text game would guarantee an interested audience.

“It’s already been adapted into animation,” Saori said, “but I doubt the computer game rights have been sold.”

“It’s not that they might not have been—they definitely haven’t,” she added. “There aren’t many home computers in Japan yet. Nobody would think to buy such rights.”

“Then we can buy them cheaply. Ideally, we should buy the adaptation rights outright. Maybe even stockpile a few other IP rights…”
As Seiko spoke, new ideas flashed through her mind. After a moment, she dismissed them—it was too early.

Saori tilted her head, about to ask what “other IPs” she meant, when the phone rang outside the room.

A moment later came the sound of small footsteps, followed by Aiko’s voice:

“Hello, this is the Yamagami residence. Mmh… okay, I understand…”

After a while, Aiko wandered into the doorway, looking dazed, her eyes shimmering with tears.

“Sister… hic…”

Seiko immediately sat up and opened her arms.

Aiko rushed over and threw herself into her embrace.

“What’s wrong?”
Seiko gently patted her back.
“Tell me.”

“M-Master… Master, she… she…” Aiko sobbed, barely coherent.
“S-she… died…”

“—Huh?!”

Seiko and Saori were both shocked.

“Ms. Otake Shinobu… died?”