The Possessor, Geomseong, Continues to Carve Out Happy Endings Today

Like many others, I played various games since I was young.

From block-stacking games to AOS games where five people work together as one team to defeat the opposing team, and games where you procure weapons on the battlefield, survive, and get chicken dinners for being first place, I dabbled in a variety of games.

Among them, my favorite game was ‘Sword, Warrior, and Academy,’ often shortened by many to ‘Seongyonga.’

Selecting one character and forming a party with academy colleagues to progress through the main scenario and reach the ending was the goal of this game.

While some may question if it’s just an ordinary nurturing game, the true value of this game lay in the diverse characters, parties, nurturing states, and the fact that every small choice accumulates to allow players to see numerous endings, whether happy or sad.

Each character had their own backstory and unique abilities, allowing for various ways to enjoy the game, which greatly captivated me.

As playtime accumulated, I overcame numerous failures, saw many endings, and almost did everything possible through ordinary play, prompting me to start playing the game with self-imposed constraints.

What I attempted in this game was simple: choosing all available playable characters and leveling them up with identical stats to save all academy characters and achieve a happy ending.

Despite achieving goals one by one over countless hours, there was one combination that even after over 8,000 hours, I couldn’t bring to a happy ending.

“Darn it.”

The screen only displayed a bold “Game Over.”

This exceeded 400 attempts. As my expertise grew with each game session, except for the first character, I had never exceeded 20 attempts, but this one seemed impossible.

“Why does it only fail when I choose this one as the main… Their individual performance is excellent.”

Frustrated, I lit a bottle of alcohol, which I usually didn’t touch.

Perhaps due to intoxication, the Seongyonga developer’s customer service was famous for responding with macros to any inquiry, but sitting down, I began to write a sincere inquiry… not curse words, but an inquiry post.

Soon enough, a complaint disguised as an inquiry was written, and without hesitation, I pressed send.

“Phew… Let’s get some sleep.”

Since a proper response wouldn’t come anyway, I might as well get a good night’s rest to gather strength for tomorrow.

Just as I was about to turn off the computer…

-Ding!

“Even if it’s a macro reply, it hasn’t even been 3 minutes.”

With a light sigh, the moment I checked my email, my belief that it would be a macro reply was completely shattered.

[Re: Hey, you salary Lupins who can’t balance anything. Did you make this so we save everyone with this character?]