Time passed, and a few more days went by.
Jin Luan was preparing to head down, but still had to wait for Huan Hong’s injuries to heal.
That day, Song Wuli’s company also welcomed an exciting moment—the new version, barely passable for a complete QA test, had been finished with great difficulty.
In reality, there wasn’t much for the copywriting team to do. In the workplace, there weren’t that many thrilling moments; most of the time, people just worked numbly.
Today was the same. The copywriting team was still working step by step when the supervisor suddenly announced that the new version was barely done.
The QA team had already received the new version and was about to conduct a full test.
The copywriting team couldn’t help but cheer, with especially loud applause coming from Team 1.
Team 2 was relatively quiet at first, but Xiao Liu, Xiao Zhao, and the others instinctively started clapping and cheering.
Chang Yong and Chang Kaihuai, the newcomers, were completely baffled.
Old Song, however, seemed to understand a bit about the responsibility of being a leader.
At this moment, he took the initiative to clap and explain.
They joined in the applause, half-understanding.
Song Wuli explained,
“There’s an unwritten tradition in the company—whenever a major phase of work is completed, we make a racket like this.
“That means we don’t have to work seriously for the rest of the day. We get a soft holiday.”
Hearing more explanations, their applause grew even louder, and they started shouting and cheering, even louder than Xiao Liu and the other two.
It was like they were venting the discomfort of having just entered society, or maybe realizing that they had transitioned from students to working adults.
Song Wuli was even a bit taken aback.
But there was more to come. Song Wuli led Team 2 to participate in another tradition—going to the QA team to watch them “eat shit.”
The testing team—the QA team—was actually one of the game-related positions that gaming enthusiasts most wanted to join.
Of course, that was before they were hired, just like people who wanted to become pro gamers before they actually got in.
They thought this job was about playing games, and that statement might even be half-true.
The newest newcomers, Chang Yong and Chang Kaihuai, also understood it that way.
Greta, who had taken a long leave, probably thought the same.
Until they followed Song Wuli to the QA team and saw several people in the group punching a sandbag.
They were dumbfounded.
Did they move a gym into the office area?
Maybe they weren’t from the QA team?
Actually, many people were gathered there now—people from the copywriting team, the art team, the programming team—almost every team had representatives, crowding the small space.
Even Biao Ji, the writer, was there, his face dark, with dark circles under his eyes, hair disheveled, looking much haggard.
Anyone who didn’t know him might think he’d taken something illegal.
A few minutes later, the QA team leader started.
Their team also had a tradition: when they got the first full version of a major build, the team leader had to be the first to eat shit.
Yes, they called this game testing phase “eating shit.”
Even with people from the copywriting team, art team, and programming team present, they unabashedly said “eating shit.”
The team leader rubbed his hands together, then ran the test version.
Nothing happened for a long time.
He checked the task manager. It showed that it was indeed running, but the computer’s CPU frequency had dropped by 50%.
The QA team leader shouted,
“What the hell? How is this possible? Someone from the programming team, get the hell over here!”
The programming team leader approached humbly and explained,
“This is to work around a bug in a certain CPU. Some CPUs have a shrink cylinder issue that causes crashes and blue screens when entering the game. So we reduced the player’s CPU frequency by 50% and solved the crash problem.”
QA team leader:
“Holy shit, you learned frequency reduction from Delta Force?”
Programming team leader:
“So did we solve the problem or not? It’s a bit slow, but you’re in the game now, aren’t you?”
That was true. The game did open.
While waiting, the QA team leader opened Notepad and skillfully recorded the issue.
After entering, he logged in with a test account.
The team leader was clearly a veteran. He immediately opened the character panel and had the character perform various actions.
Then he found a staircase to walk on. Suddenly a small detail popped up—the character’s leg clipped through the skirt.
“Damn it! Art team! Art team, get the hell over here!” he shouted.
The art team leader scurried over:
“No need to say it, I understand. Already recorded this issue.”
He continued playing. Just as he touched a wall to climb, an error report popped up, and the game crashed.
The QA team leader stared at the programming team leader.
The programming team leader silently recorded the issue, not saying a word.
He opened the game again. Touched the wall again. Same problem.
The game crashed again.
Fine. This time, no touching the wall.
He passed by a bridge, and suddenly fell through it into the river.
He exchanged a glance with the programming team leader, their eyes practically blazing with anger.
He climbed out of the river, walked down a street, and was suddenly caught by an NPC, forced into a dialogue cutscene.
But after the dialogue ended, he couldn’t exit the dialogue interface. It was stuck there forever, forcing him to force-quit.
The programming team leader still lowered his head, recording, silent.
He entered the game again and tried to accept the main quest.
Suddenly, a side mission dialogue box popped up instead of the main quest.
The quest flow was mixed up.
He used the console to force-accept the main quest, and suddenly the final boss spawned right in front of him.
The QA team leader let out a deep sigh.
After a long while, he used commands to skip that sequence.
He played through the main quest for a bit, and then an NPC in the game spoke a line:
“Master Bage is our last hope.”
“It’s Master Bage! We’re saved!”
The QA team leader took his hands off the mouse and keyboard, lit a cigarette, and smoked slowly.
It was obvious he was already furious. His anger meter was almost full.
He turned around and looked at the crowd watching:
“Let me ask you all—who the hell is this Bage?”
Xiao Zhao from Copywriting Team 2 raised his hand and answered weakly,
“Isn’t that person… called Bage? Not Bage?”
The audio team leader also came over, silently lowering his head, not daring to speak.
QA team leader:
“So is this character called Bage or Bage?”
Audio team leader:
“Bage.”
QA team leader:
“Then why did your voice actor say Bage?”
Audio team leader:
“That was a work mistake. When he read the copy to us, he kept saying ‘bag, bag,’ so we heard it as ‘Bage.’ When we wrote the script, we also wrote it as ‘Bage,’ and then the voice actor teacher recorded it as ‘Bage.’”
QA team leader:
“You didn’t even bother to verify?!”
The audio team leader kept his head down and said nothing. There was no excuse that could justify it.
After a moment, he added quietly:
“We have… a member in the team who’s from Chuandi.”
The audio team leader lowered his head again, silent.
The copywriting team members nearby were already sweating.
But this time, the copywriting team wasn’t scolded, because there were no typos. The team leader and supervisor had checked it several times.
The QA team leader wanted to complain about the plot of the new version of “Que Yi,” but didn’t dare.
After all, it was written by the Oscar-nominated screenwriter Biao Ji, and approved by the producer.
What the emperor decreed—who dares to say anything?
Everyone spent an hour visiting the QA team.
Chang Kaihuai and the others had gone from initial anticipation to anxiety, and then to awe.
The team leader had been eating shit for an hour and still hadn’t finished the new version’s content.
There were over 40 error reports, crashes, and game freezes, over a dozen flow-stopping bugs, dozens of art issues, and dozens of voice actor issues.
He would play for a while, then go punch the sandbag, each time with increasing force.
The other QA team members also started testing.
From initial boredom to numbness.
This was their daily work—a double torment of body and spirit.