Chapter 26 The failure of the past
Daniel's POV.
We often hear people say, "If there is perseverance, there is stew"—a proverb reminding us that every bit of hard work brings its own reward of comfort. There are so many beautiful words and sweet promises found in these folk sayings, and it cannot be denied that many people serve as living proof of them. There are those who started from nothing and now enjoy an abundance that is more than enough—all because of their diligent efforts.
But is it really true that this applies to everyone?
How true is it that the moment you work hard, success is waiting for you? Is this something everyone can achieve, or is it reserved only for the few lucky enough to grasp it? Is it destiny, or just a coincidence? It is a question that is incredibly difficult to answer.
Many people strive to succeed in life, but out of the 10 billion people in the world, barely a million reach the pinnacle of success.
Destiny, or just coincidence?
My name is Daniel Muntingbato, 25 years old, and an Otaku. Thanks to the influence of anime, manga, and games, a small dream was born within me. That's right—before I became a NEET, I was just like everyone else: I had dreams.
I wasn't the type of person who just relied on others, like some invalid waiting for pity or a handout. Once in my life, I learned to stand on my own two feet and planned to make something of myself.
Do you want to know what it was? I'm not sure if you'll like it; I don't think it's a very interesting story. It's a sad tale that serves as a dark chapter of my life—one I'd rather not remember.
Back then, I had such high regards for life. To me, the world was extraordinary and full of beautiful things, mostly because I still believed I could keep up and face reality head-on.
It started when I was a child, when my father bought me a Game Boy. I was so happy back then because I had something to play with; I think that's a normal reaction for a child. My father had no problem with my hobbies or my love for anime, saying it was normal for young boys—even if my mother didn't approve, fearing it would distract me from my studies.
They also bought me balls and sports equipment, but all of those just went to my younger brother. I preferred staying in my room, watching shows and playing games with my old childhood friends.
When I reached high school, I became even more determined. I started saving my allowance just to buy manga whenever I had the chance. One day, while playing with friends in my room, I suddenly decided that I wanted to create a game—just like the ones we were playing back then. That's right: a game people could enjoy, something that would bring them smiles, excitement, and absolute joy, just like what I felt.
I studied and worked hard. I learned the mechanics of game development until it eventually became my chosen course in college. I became a game developer, and I didn't miss a single detail I could learn.
Back then, I wasn't afraid to spend all my hours and days building a game. I didn't give up, even when some of my teammates dropped out one by one, seemingly losing the will to continue the project we had started.
Making a game is hard; the time and exhaustion you invest are no joke. But I was lucky because my family let me do whatever I wanted. To them, I was still young, so I should be doing the things I loved.
I continued developing the game on my own because I believed that if I quit, the entire year of hard work I put into it would go to waste. I had already wasted so much time, and I didn't want to fail my parents after they had put so much trust in the path I chose.
I had a firm belief that if I persevered, I would succeed. I clung to those sweet words: that if you believe, have faith in God, and work hard, you will triumph.
But sometimes, it's unavoidable to hit a stage where your motivation drops due to exhaustion, lack of confidence, and laziness. During those times, I started asking myself: Is there any point to what I'm doing, or am I just wasting my time?
Can I really do this? Will I truly succeed? During that period, someone helped me finish the programming. I was grateful to them, but I couldn't rely on them forever since they had their own life to attend to.
Months passed, and I finally managed to finish that game—two years after I first started. Finally, I had succeeded in creating it. At that moment, I could have said that a person's hard work is indeed the key to what they want to achieve in life.
Success?
Did I really achieve it in full? Finishing the game was a huge milestone for me, but the truth was that making the game was only half the battle.
I didn't waste any time showing it to the world. I submitted it to game companies and developer teams, hoping for support to help release and market it to the public.
But... it wasn't that easy.
I didn't receive any good feedback. They didn't give it a chance to be part of the games they supported or offered to the public.
Despite the rejections, I kept going. I treated it all as a challenge, so I wasn't afraid to go "indie." I handled everything myself—from the release to the promotion and beyond. I put it out on the internet, hoping people would like it. But like the professionals, the general public didn't give it good feedback either.
I'm not saying I made something so incredible that it deserved a grand reception; I knew myself that the graphics weren't that great. Even I felt it was lacking in terms of art, sound, storyboard, twists, and gameplay—because every part of that game was made by a single person who wasn't perfect in every aspect of game design.
The game didn't pass the people's standards. Instead of enjoying it, they mocked it and criticized every single flaw. I didn't know what to do at that moment because they were insulting the very thing I considered my life's success. People judged my work based on their high standards for games without trying to understand the message behind it.
This was wrong. This wasn't what I wanted for my game. So, before I broke down completely, I pulled it off the internet.
Years of hardship and perseverance went to waste. My diligence wasn't rewarded with the success I thought I deserved in exchange for my sacrifices. Those sweet words and my belief that everything would lead somewhere had failed me.
