Game Director from Hell - Chapter 24: Sound Insertion (2)

A private studio filled with various audio equipment. This was the workspace of Huh Chanyong, who was not only Jo Ayoon’s music tutor but also a renowned figure in the past, having made a name for himself in the commercial music industry and composed several drama OSTs. Now, he had stepped back from the mainstream music scene to focus on nurturing the next generation of composers.

Lately, he found great joy in a particular aspect of his work.

“All right, have you finished your homework?”

“Yes, I have!”

The subject of his joy was none other than this young female student’s music education. Chanyong checked the notebook that Ayoon had handed him.

“Let me take a look… Hmm, you’ve done well.”

What he was checking were Ayoon’s reviews of various pieces of music, which were assigned as homework. The reason for assigning the task of reviewing instead of composing was quite deliberate.

The foundation of all art is input. Injecting various references into one’s mind is the fundamental principle. Actual creative work should come later, after expanding Ayoon’s worldview.

Chanyong couldn’t help but smile at her insightful evaluations.

“These are interesting reviews. Comparing a contrabass to melting ice cream is quite unique.”

“Umm, is that not okay…?”

“No, it’s not that. I’m praising you. I told you it’s essential to interpret the world through your unique perspective by giving your own twist to the sounds of the world.”

Chanyong chuckled, but he also felt a tinge of bitterness. “She’s genuinely talented,” he thought.

Looking at music from a unique perspective, one that differs from others, is precisely what every composer hopes for. It means that every piece of music created carries the composer’s own unique interpretation.

It’s an area only a few are allowed to enter, despite many composers yearning for it desperately. Starting with a unique worldview, completing it with one’s distinct creative touch—this means that every piece composed by that artist is reinterpreted with their unique colours.

Why, then, should Ayoon, who has the potential from the beginning, have so little self-confidence?

“Maybe she’s been bullied or something.”

Chanyong suddenly felt like going out and wielding a sledgehammer at the kids who had tormented Ayoon. It would be a shame if her talent couldn’t blossom, and if she couldn’t become one of the giants in the music industry.

Meanwhile, Ayoon, her cheeks slightly flushed, held her notebook in her trembling hands. She hesitated for a moment, lips quivering, before finally sighing and giving her answer.

“Um, I, I need to start composing soon.”

“Oh, finally!”

Chanyong’s face lit up with excitement. He remembered something important: Ayoon had been introduced to him, and her tuition fees were covered by Yeonho, the owner of a game development company. The reason he was supporting Ayoon was to cultivate a sound director for the company.

In November this year, they were planning to participate in a significant festival, and they needed music for their entry. That’s why he was asking Ayoon for her help.

Chanyong smiled brightly and asked, “So, have you played the game?”

“Yes, I have.”

“Did any musical ideas come to mind? Do you have any sense of what you should do?”

Chanyong didn’t know much about games, but he didn’t think it would be too different from composing for dramas or popular songs. Composing meant dressing the scenes or the singer’s personality and purpose.

If this child has even a bit of talent, she should come up with something. “I’m not sure…”

“What’s wrong? Do you have any concerns?”

Ayoon hesitated for a moment, her lips twitching, before finally exhaling a sigh and answering, “Um, well… I don’t know…”

“Tell me.”

“…I think I should start composing slowly because… I’m not sure what to add. If I compose incorrectly, it could be a big problem… Ugh…”

Ayoon continued to shrink and her cheeks reddened. But her bashful smile at the praise pleased Chanong. On the other hand, a shadow seemed to fall over her face.

It suddenly dawned on Chanyong.

“She’s overthinking composing. Or rather, she’s treating composing for the pro scene as an insurmountable wall.”

This was a common issue among young creators. Those who have made it into the pro scene may know that the essence of composing doesn’t change much from their amateur days. However, young amateurs tend not to know this. The idea that pros are amazing and that their understanding of composition is completely different tends to sap their confidence.

Ayoon probably had these deep-seated beliefs even more so due to her background.

“This… needs to be addressed.”

Chanyong lowered his voice and said, “Ayoon…”

“Nep…”

“What did I say about composition?”

“Building up…”

“That’s right, composition is the art of building up. It’s about stacking all the sounds you know, beyond just musical instruments and scales, onto the sheet music. That’s why you could do it on your own, and that fact won’t change in the future.”

That’s why composition is labour. One common bias against composers is the belief that composers immerse themselves in the art, playing instruments themselves to compose, but that’s not accurate. Of course, there might be such people, but modern commercial composers are generally closer to skilled technicians who combine and overlay sounds they know, which are essentially codes, to captivate the ears of the masses. Ayoon needed to understand that.

“It’s not that difficult. You started your lessons and listened to many sounds, right? From those, you just need to pick what you need and stack them.”

Although he tried to reassure her, Ayoon’s expression didn’t brighten.

Chanyong furrowed his brow, thinking, “I don’t think saying this will help.”

The language of encouragement or support gains more power with deeper levels of trust between people. Chanyong humbly acknowledged that he hadn’t built much rapport with Ayoon yet. She trusted someone else more—the person who had guided her onto this path. That person would be better.

Chanyong contacted Yeonho immediately after the lesson.

Two days later, Ayoon received a text message from Yeonho.

“Today, skip the tutoring and come to the office. I’ve already informed the teacher.”

Ayoon was suddenly filled with anxiety.

“What did I do wrong…?”

Or was it a reminder to hurry up?

In response to the sudden rise in anxiety, Ayoon hastily replied, her trembling hands making a typo.

Oops, a typo!

“Yes!”

Soon after, she headed straight to the office.

“Um, excuse me…”

When she opened the door, she found Yeonho alone in the office, and he greeted her.

“Oh, you’re here? Sit down. It’s just the two of us today. The art team is on a short break.”

“Oh, I see…”

Nodding, Ayoon walked into the room hesitantly, her steps hesitant and cautious.

Yeonho got up from his chair.

“Do you want coffee? Or maybe cola?”

“Cola, please…”

“Sure. Take a seat at the conference table.”

During that moment, Ayoon thought, “What could he possibly want to talk about?,” and her shoulders slumped.

“How’s everything going?”

Thunk. Ayoon placed the cola on the table and looked at Yeon-ho. Her lips quivered.

“I-is something wrong?”

Her gaze trembled.

‘I should have known… It must be a scolding!’

Suddenly, she felt resentful toward her teacher.

“Is it tough?”

Ayoon’s head shot up.

Her expression grew blank.

“What?”

“I realized that maybe I pushed you too hard. It’s only been two or three months since you started. You’ve just started to learn, and I suddenly asked you to work too fast. I felt worried, to be honest, and even a bit sorry. That’s why I called you today.”

Yeonho took a seat next to Ayoon, not across from her.

“I’ve been thinking that maybe I was too impatient with you. You’ve only been learning for a few months. You’re still digesting what you’ve learned.”

Yeonho and Ayoon locked eyes.

He usually had an expressionless face, but warmth could be felt in his voice.

In that moment, Ayoon felt an inexplicable tightness in her chest. It was a mixture of comfort, a sudden desire to resent her teacher less, guilt for making him appear as a terrifying figure all by herself, and the touching feeling of being consoled.

Several emotions intertwined, causing her voice to quiver.

“Ah, no, it’s not that! It’s just that I’m lacking…”

“No, it’s not.”

Yeonho interrupted Ayoon’s words.

“No one thinks you’re lacking.”

“That’s… because I’m still young…”

It was a natural thing to say. Ayoon was aware that she received special treatment in the office. Everyone was considerate. Wasn’t it because she was still a child? But Yeonho’s response contradicted that.

“You?”

“I mean it. If I thought of you as just a kid, I wouldn’t have you here. When I hire someone, I do it with confidence. Confidence that this person can complete what I can’t even imagine in a form that they can’t. Seorim, too, and you as well. Well, the two people in the art team are a bit exceptional… Anyway, in the end, they were better talents than I thought.”

It was a puzzling moment.

“What do you mean? You still believe I can create great music even though I’m young?”

“If I thought of you as just a kid, I wouldn’t have you here. I believe you’re capable of making fantastic music now, not just in the future. So, don’t feel pressured. You can create better music than any of us. You’re an irreplaceable asset, and that fact won’t change.”

Yeonho raised his coffee cup.

As if proposing a toast.

“Even if your sound for this game doesn’t suit your style, it’s okay. If it becomes part of your experience, it will have served its purpose for this game.”

Yeonho finished speaking.

Ayoon suddenly wanted to ask a question.

“How can you be so sure?”

How can you be so sure when I dropped out of school, can’t study, have almost no knowledge about games, don’t have friends, stutter when I talk, can’t make eye contact with people, and am terrified when our eyes meet?

Various complaints and thoughts crossed her mind but vanished.

It wasn’t for any other reason.

Even without saying those things, she felt like she knew the answer.

‘He believes in me.’

Yeonho would definitely have an answer for whatever she said. He would give full trust and believe in her more than she herself did. Unconditional support. Its power was greater than she thought.

“I want to repay that trust.”

The complete trust of someone sometimes turned into passion. To keep that trust intact or to return it with sincerity. It was a desire that grew stronger in people who yearned for pure kindness.

That’s how Ayoon felt.

She needed someone’s recognition, and there was someone who gave it to her. When she spoke with that person, she started thinking that she wasn’t useless.

That’s why.

Her lips formed words on their own.

“I’ll… try.”

“Huh?”

“I-I’ll give it a try!”

Ayoon suddenly stood up from her chair.

“I’ll work hard!”

Ayoon’s eyes lit up with excitement.

“Can I play the game before I leave?”

Yeonho blinked his eyes for a moment and then nodded.

Ayoon decided to channel this emotion directly into the game!

“But… how should I do it?”

Reality wasn’t catching up with her enthusiasm!

***

Cold sweat ran down Ayoon’s back.

She wondered, “Do I really need music for this?”

The game was already so enjoyable without it.

The boss battles, in particular, were exceptional. The bosses designed by Seorim and brought to life by Yeonho were imposing just by standing still. When they activated their patterns, it was accompanied by magnificent sound effects.

But how could she tamper with that?

“What should I do now?”

Her mind felt overwhelmed.

What kind of sounds should she add to this pattern? What about background music? And sound effects? Wouldn’t adding them take away from the boss’s impact? Wouldn’t it dilute the boss’s essence?

Ayoon was left in confusion as she continued to play, and before she knew it, it was her tenth attempt.

Yeonho was jotting something down in his notebook.

“Oh, this? It’s for bug checking. There are a few bugs that only appear when others play the game. Don’t worry about it, just keep going.”

It seemed like he couldn’t provide any more help.

Or rather, when she thought about it, he had already covered points like “Intro sound” and the “Punishment Pattern,” so he couldn’t offer more assistance!

Eventually, Yeonho finished checking and went off to do something else.

And then came her eleventh attempt.

“I’ve memorized the pattern now.”

She had played frantically, and now the boss seemed bland. The grandeur she felt when she first encountered it was gone, and it just seemed like a bunch of data swinging its fists or striking the ground.

Ayoon was determined to uncover the pattern.

But then, as the battle began, she realized something.

“Oh, the spinning disks. I have to avoid them.”

But before she could react…

Ding!

Suddenly, the sound of shattering glass echoed.

“Huh?”

At that moment, Ayoon felt a shiver down her spine.

She turned her head around.

There, behind her, Yeonho was looking down at a shattered glass with a perplexed expression.

Yeonho said, “Sorry, my hand slipped.”

Ayoon didn’t hear him.

What captured Ayoon’s attention were the fragments of the shattered glass.

“Glass?”

It reminded her of something.

No, she had already known these things, but now they began to grow in her mind like a sudden burst of certainty.

“Glass…?”

From those two keywords, her thoughts expanded wildly.

“Stained glass?”

A sense of fragility, as if it might shatter at the slightest touch.

But at the same time, it exuded an overwhelming grandeur.

Expressing these feelings brought images of churches, pipe organs, hymns.

Then, the orchestra, basses, and a sudden explosion.

And it continued to expand in her mind.

“Composition is an art of accumulation.”

That phrase suddenly came to her.

Ayoon’s eyes widened as if they were about to split.

“Ah!”

It was inspiration.

She got it!

This was the solution!

As the cycles repeated, she had noticed the tedium that crept in—a flaw in a game without sound.

“It needs variations!”

Every moment needed a new, beautiful, and terrifying variation!

“Wait!”

Ayoon grabbed Yeonho, who was about to clean up the glass.

Yeonho paused.

“Huh?”

“Just, wait…”

What should she say?

Should she ask him to break more glass?

No, not that.

There was something more melodious and piercing than the sound of broken glass.

A sound she had heard before…

Crash!

‘Oh, the light bulb broke.’

Yes, the sound of a shattering light bulb, which had come to her mind even before.

Ayoon said, her heart racing, “Manager.”

She was in a hurry.

“Could you break a light bulb for me?”

Yeonho tilted his head.