The plot of White Album unfolds slowly, unlike the typical love-triangle story. In this game, both the production team behind Hesha and Louis, and the creators at PixelPioneers Studio, give each heroine enough screen time and narrative weight to fully explore their personalities and emotional complexities.
In many movies or games, a character might not have much story presence, yet still manages to attract fans simply through design or charm. But when the same person is placed into an interactive narrative like White Album, where acting is replaced by writing and emotional pacing, what truly captures the player's attention is the character's role within the story.
In White Album, both Louis and Hesha have rich storylines, along with multiple side routes common in love-simulation development games. These elements blend into a complicated web of emotional tension, making both heroines extraordinarily popular.
As a result, fans who favor Hesha blame Louis for everything, and fans who favor Louis argue that Hesha is at fault. Others simply insist it's all the protagonist's fault. Their debates resemble endless loops, frustrating yet undeniably human.
Within the story of White Album, both the Louis camp and the Hesha camp have their own logic, and neither side can truly convince the other. Over time, as direct insults like "Louis cheat" or "Hesha homewrecker" risked violating community guidelines, fans began turning to textual evidence from the game to strengthen their arguments. They analyzed lines, subplots, inner thoughts, and emotional motivations, all to refute the opposing party more convincingly. As the disputes intensified, this trend only grew.
On what should have been a quiet Sunday, perfect for gaming and relaxation, the discussion groups dedicated to White Album erupted. Countless players across the game community began clashing fiercely.
And then John's official blog was bombarded. Staring at the flood of comments beneath his posts, John was stunned.
"Why me?! Wrong person! Go find Christy!" In the game's credits, the screenwriter's name, Christy, was displayed in bold, prominent letters. How were people missing that?
Watching the players swarm his feed, John felt as if he'd fallen into another dimension. What a headache. Seeing the fiery determination of the players, John realized he couldn't remain silent any longer. He needed to respond.
"In fact," he posted decisively, "there is a third ending in the game. Some of your questions will be answered there. After everyone completes the third ending, I will also invite the game's plot writer, Christy, to answer your questions."
With that single announcement, he redirected the storm and then immediately closed his blog. He called Christy into his office and greeted her with an overly gentle smile.
"Mr. John? What's going on?" Christy asked in confusion.
"Nothing major," John said warmly. "But the players have gotten very… passionate about the White Album debate recently. So I've decided that you, as the chief narrative editor, should answer some of their questions. After all, this storyline is your responsibility too."
Christy blinked, surprised, but brimming with excitement. "But Mr. John, the main plot, "
Before she could finish, John waved his hand with a smile, "Although I handled the main storyline, all the side plots and character development were your work. The game's praise belongs to you as well. This honor should go to the one who earned it."
Christy's eyes reddened with gratitude. "Yes! I'll do my best!"
John nodded, satisfied. Once John's announcement spread through the community, the people erupted with excitement. A third hidden ending? Could it finally be the happy ending they've been waiting for?
For a moment, all arguments vanished. Players rushed off to create new save files and begin their fresh playthroughs.
After temporarily calming the community, John returned to his main task: developing the upcoming DLC for the new projects, Metal Gear and Red Alert.
Meanwhile, Martel had already started development on Resident Evil 2. Although the team was different, he had the game's full design framework to reference, and John had provided an extremely detailed GDD. For a developer like Martel, it was practically an open-book exam.
Sitting at his desk, John took a deep breath and turned back to the GDD for Metal Gear. A stealth action-adventure game, Metal Gear would differ from the original in several large-scale settings. John envisioned blending it with a parallel universe inspired by Red Alert.
However, he couldn't simply copy everything, level designs, values, emotional nuances, none of it could be replicated perfectly. This project forced John to think even more deeply about game design.
If games are truly art, then many titles from his memories were masterpieces, but only a few deserved to be called art in the purest sense. Metal Gear was one of those titles: the perfect fusion of cinematography and interactive storytelling.
Leaning back in his chair, eyes closed, John recalled the iconic "Original Point" opening sequence from his memory. The shock it delivered was unforgettable.
"I need a professional director as my deputy," he murmured. "Someone who can handle the cinematic shots inside the game."
The idea settled in his mind, clear, sharp, and decisive.