Tian Mei Studio
Zheng Dong lounged in the break room, locked in a holographic chess match with a colleague. A translucent chessboard floated between them, projected by their holographic phones. Around them, other coworkers watched with interest, occasionally offering unsolicited advice.
He'd always loved chess, but life and work had slowly edged out his passion. Carrying around a board was impractical, and computer chess lacked the social flair. But now, thanks to the Marching Ant Company's Holographic Chess, that joy had returned—portable, realistic, and with a genuine board-game experience.
Now, during lunch breaks or idle hours, he would gather colleagues for a quick match and some light conversation.
"You know," someone said while watching the game, "if this holographic tech were used to make a MOBA like Honor of Kings or League of Legends, it'd be insane."
"Dream on," another replied. "Only the Marching Ant Company has the capabilities to develop holographic software right now."
"If they do release a MOBA," someone muttered, "we're screwed. The Marching Ants never enter a field without shaking it to its core. That's why so many other tech giants can't stand them."
Everyone nodded. The company had only released casual games so far—mini-games and Pet Adventure. But if they ever moved into AAA gaming, it would be a serious threat to the current giants in the industry.
As the chatter continued, a man in his thirties walked into the break room with a serious expression.
"Pause the games. Emergency announcement. All programmers proficient in Chinese character programming—report to me immediately for task reassignment."
The room fell silent in surprise.
It was just after lunch. Everyone had been relaxing, especially the programmers. It was rare—almost unheard of—for urgent work calls during break.
"Supervisor, what's going on?" Zheng Dong asked, eyebrows raised.
Since the Clown Virus incident, Chinese character programming had skyrocketed in importance. Traditional antivirus software had failed against the virus, and only tools built with Chinese character programming could neutralize it. The language, once considered niche, had become an alternative standard overnight.
Many in Tian Mei's team had started learning it to keep up with market demand, though most weren't on the level of core security engineers. So being summoned now—especially the less experienced programmers—felt sudden.
"The Marching Ant Company just released an official statement," the supervisor said. "They've opened up development tools for holographic software. We're convening an emergency meeting to form a dev team. All Chinese character programmers are needed."
The words struck like lightning.
The Marching Ant Company had opened the holographic software development platform.
The news spread like wildfire across every corner of the internet.
Until now, holographic projectors and mobile phones had been red-hot, especially with the success of holographic games. The immersive experience had made traditional mobile games feel clunky and outdated by comparison.
But only the Marching Ant Company had the tools and technology to build real holographic applications. Everyone else could only watch from the sidelines.
That era had just ended.
Now, with the development platform open, any programmer could build software for the Marching Ant ecosystem. The reaction was immediate and explosive.
Game developers were the first to mobilize.
Major companies—Tencent, NetEase, Blizzard, Ubisoft, Villefort—all launched emergency strategy meetings and began assembling research and development teams to seize a foothold in holographic gaming.
Holography wasn't just a tech breakthrough—it was a revolution in gaming.
When the holographic projector was first introduced, many game companies had speculated about its potential. But without access to the core development tools, they had no way to turn that dream into reality.
Now, with the toolkit publicly available, they could finally bring those ideas to life.
The internet erupted.
"Insider sources say Tian Mei and Riot Games are co-developing a holographic combat mode for Honor of Kings and League of Legends..."
"NetEase and Blizzard confirm joint development of holographic World of Warcraft and StarCraft..."
"Perfect World and Villefort reach agreement to create a holographic mode for Turret 2..."
News poured in by the minute. Holographic gaming had become the hottest topic online.
And it wasn't just games.
Alibaba's Black Cat Mall announced their entry into the space, launching an "Internet Holographic Mall" initiative. Other e-commerce platforms hinted at similar plans.
Behind the headlines, a silent arms race was unfolding. Tech companies launched massive hiring sprees, offering sky-high salaries for programmers fluent in Chinese character programming.
Anyone with those skills was suddenly in high demand—even university students. This level of frenzy hadn't been seen since the Clown Virus Crisis.
Chinese character programming had returned to the spotlight, and universities were now considering formal experimental courses in the language.
With a single move—releasing development tools—the Marching Ant Company had shattered the calm and stirred up a storm.
Across the internet, amid the chaos, one sentiment echoed over and over:
"The holographic era... has officially begun."