Video Game Tycoon in Tokyo-Chapter 778: It Seems a Bit Childish

After a round of busy work, Davidson returned to his desk to find that the game had finished downloading. Following the on-screen instructions, he entered the game interface.

Candy Fun Match was a vertical mobile game specifically designed for smartphones. The entire game felt visually pleasing.

The art style was cute, and the background music had a touch of upbeat rhythm to it. He even thought he might look for the game's soundtrack later—maybe it would make a nice ringtone.

Guided by the tutorial, he quickly received all the in-game item rewards he'd earned through his previous subscriptions and purchases.

There were items that cleared the whole board, some that removed specific blocks, and others that extended the number of moves available.

He wasn't quite sure what all the items did yet, but he followed the tutorial step by step.

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The gameplay itself wasn't hard at all. You simply needed to slide icons within the level to line up three or more matching symbols, which would then disappear.

Davidson picked it up with barely any effort.

...

...

So this is what video games are like? Davidson mused to himself.

Then he just quietly tapped the screen again and again, clearing objective after objective.

The early levels weren't difficult, and he breezed through them without much time or effort.

As he played, he started to feel slightly dismissive of the game.

Figures. Video games really are for kids.

Still, he did know some adults who talked about video games a lot—but he never really understood why they found them interesting.

What he didn't realize at the moment was that he had already been playing this "childish" game for over 30 minutes.

Level after level, he kept going, seemingly with no desire to stop.

And just when the game started to feel a little too simple or boring, it cleverly introduced new mechanics on top of the basic match-3 gameplay.

At first, it was all about moving pieces to match and score points.

As he progressed, he learned that his performance was rated by a 3-star system. At first, he hadn't noticed or cared much.

But around level 20, he happened to achieve a perfect 3-star score for the first time.

"Awesome! You've achieved a perfect rating for this level! Congratulations! You're the best!"

Fireworks exploded across the screen, and an adorable little animal character danced around, cheering his success like it was the greatest achievement in the world.

Heh... kinda childish.

Still... being praised like that felt kind of nice.

Wait a minute... I only get this kind of celebration for a 3-star rating?

That must mean all the previous levels hadn't been perfect.

Suddenly, Davidson felt a bit uneasy.

He never considered himself someone with OCD—but right now, it was really bugging him.

He had to go back to the beginning and try for perfect ratings on every level.

So he restarted from Level 1.

Previously, he'd played that level casually, not really caring. But now? He took it seriously.

He began to carefully consider each move, trying to maximize his points.

Eventually, his efforts paid off—he achieved just enough to earn a 3-star rating.

"Awesome! You've achieved a perfect rating for this level! Congratulations! You're the best!"

The celebration animation played again. Davidson felt a deep sense of satisfaction.

And then, he moved on to Level 2.

He went through all the previous levels again, one by one—this time with more patience and more thought.

And it was clear: the playtime for each level increased significantly.

Whereas before he was breezing through them, now he was challenging himself, and the game started to feel a bit more difficult.

Same game, same levels—but with the goal of achieving 3 stars, it all felt different.

"Davidson, we've got more work to do!"

"Oh, okay."

This time, Davidson looked at his phone a little reluctantly.

Still, work came first. The game wasn't going anywhere—he could pick it up again later.

So he put his phone down and headed off.

About half an hour later, he returned to the office.

This time, he came back a lot faster than before.

In truth, his mind had been on the game the whole time, trying to figure out how to get 3 stars on the next level.

It had become a new personal goal.

As soon as he returned to his desk, he picked up the phone again and resumed playing.

This time, he played even more carefully and slowly than before.

But he didn't feel bored—instead, the game was actually starting to feel fun.

Of course, the excitement from getting perfect ratings couldn't last forever. Eventually, even this would take its toll on his focus and energy.

After going through about 30 more levels, he managed to earn 3-star ratings on each one.

Seeing a full row of levels marked with perfect scores brought him a strange sense of pride.

But just as he was starting to feel a bit fatigued—his brain nudging him that it was time to rest—the workday was nearly over. He should probably start wrapping things up.

Then... a voice inside his head chimed in:

"Just one more level. Come on, you're already at Level 39—might as well round it out to a nice even 40."

"It's not OCD," he reasoned. "It just... feels nicer that way."

So... one more.

Davidson gave in and tapped to begin the next level.

Level 40.

As it loaded, the gameplay screen changed.

New icons and functions appeared—stuff he hadn't seen before.

He noticed that some blocks on the board looked like frozen ice cubes.

What are these? Davidson wondered.

But he didn't have to stay confused for long—the game explained it for him.

The ice blocks represented spaces that had to be cleared.

Every time you matched pieces above them, one layer of ice would melt. The goal was to completely clear all the ice on the board and earn a high score.

Huh. Okay. That's kind of cool.