Author: Studio Ganzheit

I think I’ve done just about everything I can with the demo. I released both long and short versions of the trailer, made a Steam announcement, and addressed most of the major feedback. Now I’m planning to return to the main game and continue development alongside the remaining feedback.

This time, whenever I made community posts, edited trailers, or checked Steam stats, I actively asked AI for input. Since I wasn’t sure how much hallucination might creep into the answers, I compared ChatGPT and Claude side by side. I learned a lot and got a lot of help. I’m not sure if AI always gives the most definitive answers, but the act of asking and thinking through each step has helped me build up knowledge layer by layer—something I used to fumble through blindly in the past. It’s not an easy situation in many ways, but I’m grateful that I now have access to tools like AI and other environments well-suited to solo development—especially in areas where I’ve always felt weak, like broad appeal or communication. These days, when anything involves public exposure, I tend to get feedback from AI first. Whether it’s checking if my intent comes through clearly, avoiding anything that could be misunderstood or offensive, deciding what time to post, or figuring out what actions to take based on a particular chart—I rely on AI to help me think it through. Whether the advice is effective or not, I’m gradually learning how the whole system works just by reading the responses.

The image above is the next stage I’m about to begin. It’s called “Threshold”—a zone I’ve always wanted to try, with the concept of a sea or lake above and a sky below. It’s a transitional space between reality and the Beyond. You enter it by accessing the lowest level of the Archetype Server in order to lift the veil. Just because the skybox is inverted doesn’t mean gravity is reversed. It’s a virtual space, but once it’s been cleared, players can revisit it anytime through a specific terminal. Since all in-game items—like suit programs, credits, and Complexes—are virtual in nature, anything acquired in Threshold is still valid in the real world. The interior of the building in that area will be furnished in a midcentury modern style. It’s probably an expression of my emotional regression—rediscovering things I loved when I was a child. And honestly, I can’t really deny that.

The goal is for the area to feel surreal and disconnected at first, but after you clear it, it should feel like a natural extension of the existing map. That fits with one of the broader goals of the game—portraying the transition from our current reality into a sci-fi virtual world. Imagining and building things like this is what makes it impossible for me to give up on making games. To be honest, it doesn’t even feel like I’m “imagining” things—it’s more like retrieving something from deep in the back of my mind. I’ve probably spent most of my life overly skewed toward a dreamer’s mindset, but even if it’s a bit late, I feel like AI is helping me slowly regain some balance.

I spent a long time thinking about how to put together a new trailer, but ended up spending almost the entire week just fixing bugs. And even now, a lot of nasty old bugs are still hiding in the game. Also, I realized something frustrating: when I bake lightmaps by sublevel, it still saves the lightmaps of hidden maps. If you’re using Perforce, you can just re-sync and overwrite, but if not, you have to rebake the entire world, which is pretty inconvenient.

One thing I’ve realized while working alone is that making a game isn’t just about building the game itself—it’s also about observing and managing myself. I had suspected this for a while, but talking to ChatGPT made me recognize it more clearly: I was far more focused on maintaining systemic consistency than on what players would actually experience. This leads to three major problems, listed from least to most critical:
First, it makes me overly hesitant when adding anything. Even something as simple as putting a sign on a wall feels uncomfortable if I can’t fully justify why it’s there. The reality is, very few players would ever care about that level of logical depth, so I end up worrying about things that don’t really matter.
Second, I become blind to what actually affects players. Because I focus so much on consistency behind the scenes, I often overlook what’s truly important on the surface—without even realizing it.
Third—and the biggest issue—this obsession shrinks the space where players are free to explore and play. In trying to maintain airtight internal logic, I end up creating a playground where everything is rigid and predefined.
Even if there are a few silly gaps here and there, it’s better to patch them as needed, letting players experiment and mess around freely. I was silly not to see that earlier.

In that sense, even though the last update was incredibly difficult, it was a major turning point. I had already built the necessary systems, but to stay “logically consistent,” I had layered on all kinds of restrictions about what players could access and in what order. This time, I removed most of those limits, and the game’s freedom opened up dramatically. I haven’t gotten much feedback on this change yet, so I don’t know how players are feeling about it—but today, I received a post on the forums asking about save files. I didn’t even know how to respond—I was just so happy to get it.

Looking back, I realize a lot of the things I unconsciously pursued—like pitching to publishers in hopes of finding a producer—were really attempts to break free from the chains of consistency and logical perfection. I had always envied people who could think more flexibly and freely. Maybe, deep down, I was constantly searching for someone who could loosen or even break the chains—the chains of consistency and logical perfection—that bound me. But the idea that someone else could break them for me—that was the fantasy all along. At least now, I’m aware of those chains—and I’ve decided that the ones who can help me break free are the players themselves.

I’ve changed a lot in the game—though it might not look like much on the surface. The early gameplay has been reworked quite a bit, and the parts I wanted to focus on feel much closer to what I originally intended. One of my biggest struggles when showing trailers or releasing the game was this: I never meant to emphasize action, but people always seemed to focus on it. I didn’t even include combos—just a very basic action system sprinkled in like seasoning. But through this revision, I’ve come to understand why.
Some of the feedback mentioned it, and I think they were right: the trailer mostly highlighted flashy swordplay. The trailer leaned too much on visually intense moments—so it ended up giving the wrong impression. So once this update is done, I plan to make a new trailer. Who knows how it’ll turn out, but at least it’ll be closer to the original vision.
Because of changes to the movement—jumping, wall-running, etc.—I had to revisit every corner of the level design. That was a journey. I still need to test everything, but doing it alone mostly just means making sure nothing is completely broken. With all the changes, I’m sure plenty of new bugs came with them. I don’t expect players to enjoy it right away, but I hope they’ll come to like it as I keep improving it—especially Metroidvania fans. This genre has been a huge part of my life, so I really hope it speaks to them.
This past week was tough—emotionally too. It’s been a while since I’ve felt this kind of mental fatigue. All of it was a hell of my own making. The hardest part was that persistent thought: “Even if I fix all this, will anyone play it?” But watching the game evolve makes it impossible to quit. Not that I have anything else I could turn to, honestly. I have a deep respect for other solo devs—how they survive this emotional hell and still manage to finish and release their games is incredible.
Anyway, I also fixed a huge number of existing bugs—some based on feedback, others I found while reworking the action and level design. Numbers aren’t everything, but my checklist says I fixed about 120 issues in the last 10 days.
Aside from a little daily exercise, I’ve been working nonstop. It’s been a while since I felt any real inspiration—until I watched the Marathon trailer. I was floored. I don’t remember the last time I rewatched a trailer multiple times. The color, the direction, the narrative, the music—everything. As for the game itself, I did think the lower texture usage might be a plus for development, but since I’m not really into FPS games and don’t play them well, I’m not sure what the unique gameplay hook is. Still, the trailer left a strong impression.

Almost no one is playing, and the feedback I’ve gotten is minimal—but it’s been incredibly valuable. While working through it, I had a moment—like a bit of light breaking into my head. I realized I’d been overly cautious—like someone trying to make spicy food, but constantly worrying, “What if it ends up spicy?” The real issue isn’t that the food might be spicy—it’s that I might overdo it and make something inedible. But I was hesitating for the wrong reasons again.

Now you can jump off any wall up to three times in a row. You can dash while wall-running, and jumping out of a run or a dash affects speed and direction. These changes slightly expand the playable space, so I’m adjusting the level and environments to match. It actually feels closer to what I originally intended, so I’m enjoying the process.
I also overhauled the main quest: the big goal stays the same, but how you get there is entirely up to you. It’s a return to an earlier structure I abandoned after misreading previous feedback. It might still be a bit off, but it feels more right than before—and that’s enough to keep going. Getting stuck, then figuring things out—that’s what keeps me doing this.

That feeling, when a single line of feedback gives you the answer you were searching for, is like reading the manual of a model kit over and over on the bus as a kid, even while getting carsick. Or listening to a new CD you bought from Tower Records while staring at the album art the whole way home. Or diving into a movie magazine the moment you get it at the subway station. These moments are more exciting to me than a hundred likes.

Making games is the only thing I know how to do, and there have been times I’ve wondered if this path was really right for me—it’s tiring and things rarely go the way I want. But that kind of joy brings me right back to the thrill of childhood. When I think, “This might actually be fun,” or “This feels closer to what I meant to do,” that alone is enough. Good results would be a bonus. It’s already good.
Anyway, my to-do list has exploded. This next update will probably take a week or two. We’ll see. Hopefully it helps with the early-game experience too.

Phew—after releasing the demo on April Fools’ Day, I’ve been working nonstop. I fixed around 20 issues based on the feedback I received. The biggest changes were to the chat window and the boss battle.
Some players mentioned that the old chat interface broke the flow of gameplay, so I updated it so that chat messages now appear in the bottom-right corner even when the chat window is closed. Important quest-related lines are highlighted, and you can check your current objective by holding the Tab key, so there’s less need to constantly open the chat or map—though now that dialogue just flows by on the right side of the screen, it’s easier to miss what’s being said.
As for the boss fight, I adjusted the tempo and hit detection to significantly lower the difficulty. It’s surprisingly hard to guide players all the way to the more Metroidvania-like parts of the game. I hope these changes will be received positively.
I posted on Twitter and r/metroidvania to get more feedback. While there weren’t many replies on r/metroidvania, the ones I got were sincere and truly helpful. I was a bit nervous it might be like r/gaming again, but the difference really surprised me. I’m now thinking about posting updates there once every week or two, as long as it doesn’t come across as spam. I’m also looking into whether I should post on other subreddits as well.
Back when I made the prologue, I didn’t even think about how many people would play it or where I’d get feedback from. But this time, I’m carefully considering when and where to release updates, how to gather feedback, and what goals I should aim for before applying to Next Fest.
Making decisions while looking at reality directly—it feels like I’ve just stepped onto the path leading up a 1-kilometer-tall mountain. It’s not unbearably difficult, but there’s still that lingering question: will I really make it to the summit?

The first round of testing is over, and I received a huge amount of feedback. It stings, but honestly, it feels like striking gold. Where else would I get this much feedback? Ever since I started treating players as producers, the emotional strain from feedback has almost disappeared—and I love that. Over the course of 18 days during and after the test period, a total of 132 changes were made. Around nine pieces of feedback remain, mostly because they’re hard to reproduce or I’m waiting for more reports before making a decision.
In any case, I worked incredibly hard and fixed a lot. I’m planning to double-check for major issues and release the demo next Tuesday or Thursday. But since I haven’t done a full group test, I’m also bracing myself for a flood of new bugs. I’ll quietly post about it on Twitter first, fix things as feedback comes in, and then share it with r/metroidvania. I’m still a bit nervous about Reddit—I got burned pretty badly on r/gaming once (I still remember the username of the person who really came after me). But there aren’t many Metroidvania fans around me, so that subreddit is really the only place I know to get meaningful advice. I feel anxious because the game still feels lacking in many ways, but it’s early in development. If I keep taking hits and improving, maybe someday I’ll reach a decent level.
My first encounter with the Metroidvania was Castlevania: Symphony of the Night. I paid a hefty price for it at the time and played it in a daze. I didn’t have a Super Famicom growing up, so I never played Metroid, and SOTN was a mind-blowing experience. After that, I played pretty much every Castlevania title multiple times, regardless of platform. I usually never replay games. I didn’t play the 3D Castlevania that came out on Xbox, though. I also really enjoyed Bloodstained—even though the visuals weren’t great, it was incredibly fun. I liked Axiom Verge 1 & 2 as well. I really enjoyed Dead Cells, as well as Metroid Dread and the Metroid Prime remaster. But strangely, with other well-known titles—Hollow Knight, Blasphemous, the Ender series, the recent Prince of Persia, and Ori—I always ended up stopping partway through. I’m not sure why. Oddly enough, I played Animal Well all night long, though I can’t quite explain why it hooked me so much. I kept craving something new in Metroidvanias, but at the same time, I found myself drifting away from side-view games. Eventually, that led me to start developing Liminal City last year.

I originally wanted to include Metroidvania elements in the prologue, but I lacked the experience back then. This time, I fully committed to making it a proper Metroidvania. Structurally, it looks like a traditional 3D adventure game with a top-down map and full 3D world, but the core design revolves around discovering new areas using newly acquired abilities. Like a classic Metroidvania, the world is composed of horizontally connected halls and corridors. For the vertically structured halls, solving puzzles unlocks shortcuts, allowing players to easily revisit areas they’ve already cleared. Since it’s still early in development, I’ve only implemented basic exploration and combat. I’m currently thinking about how to incorporate collection and farming mechanics. While testing the demo, I hope not only to fix bugs and improve UX but also to get some ideas for collection/farming features.
In any case, I’ve made it this far, and I’m about to release a demo. Just like boxers train their abs by getting hit with medicine balls, I’ll keep taking the hits, improving the game, and building the rest as I go. The game’s still rough around the edges, but it’s early in development, so there’s plenty of room for improvement—and I can stay flexible moving forward.

The image on the left is an illustration I generated with MidJourney and refined using Gemini, intended for use as an in-game info kiosk. I’m still debating whether to use this or stick with the current kiosk. I prefer this one, but the current design seems easier to spot from a distance.

The first test is wrapping up. It still stings a bit, but I now have a better idea of what needs improvement, and I’m actively working on fixes. Initially, I planned to gather testers, but I found out that previously released demos can still participate in Steam Next Fest, so I figured I’d put the demo out first and get some early feedback. I aim to finish revisions and translations by next week, then upload the demo to Steam. Right now, I’m thinking of releasing a 2-hour demo first, and then expanding it to a 3-hour demo for Next Fest.
This is my first time running tests so early in the project, and honestly, it’s turning out to be far better than any approach I’ve taken before.
In the last game, I actually wanted to create something with room for exploration, but due to inexperience and late-stage testing, I was forced to quickly reshape it into a linear experience, which left me unsatisfied. Even now, I keep thinking about completely redoing the prologue if circumstances ever allow. So this time, I focused heavily on creating a non-linear experience, but then received a lot of feedback that players felt lost or didn’t know where to go. I ended up clearly showing the destination at all times, but left all paths toward it open for players to choose. I haven’t received much feedback yet on the revised version, but it seems I still need more explicit guidance. I felt I’d already spoon-fed every step to players, practically moving their jaws for them, but apparently, it’s still not enough. In the past, I would’ve agonized over this issue much longer. Now, I’m simply implementing the immediate ideas that come to mind and releasing the demo quickly. I think gaining more feedback is better than agonizing alone. (Although I’m not sure how many people will actually play the demo and give feedback.)
The game currently supports 11 languages. Translations and reviews are handled by AI, but managing text assets across multiple languages is proving quite cumbersome. Previously, I edited text in Excel, exported as CSV, and imported that into the game. Now, I’ve shifted to Google Sheets, managing all 11 languages in one sheet, which I’ll also export as CSV. I made this change considering it might be easier if I ever need human reviewers, but now I wonder if it was unnecessary.

The first test has begun. The feedback stings.
Last time, I regretted starting testing too late when things were already set in stone. So this time, I started much earlier. Since this is the first test of a game that’s not even halfway finished, I’m getting absolutely crushed—like meat being tenderized. But in the midst of it, I’ve had a major realization.
Looking back at how I’ve approached solo development so far, I realized I had been preparing my game as if trying to get chosen by some ideal publisher—a great producer. But that’s not what I should have been doing. That producer I had in mind? Probably an illusion. It suddenly hit me during testing: for a solo developer, the true producer is the players. That’s why people say to reveal the project early and engage with users. I’ve seen this advice online for a long time, but I misunderstood it as just a marketing strategy.
Ever since adopting the mindset that users are my producers, handling tough feedback has become surprisingly easy. Before, I put a lot of emotional effort into digging through feedback, trying to extract the valuable bits. Now, that effort has transformed into a positive energy.
Either way, I’m refining many aspects of the game based on the feedback. Right now, my focus is on making the game more accessible and welcoming. For the time being, I’ll prioritize polishing over adding new content, and testing will continue alongside development until completion.I plan to carefully gather only those who genuinely want to play my game from Twitter and Reddit. Last time, I handed out keys to anyone who asked, and 90% just took them and disappeared. If I select better, hopefully, that percentage will go down. Then again, what if no one wants to test it at all?
Even though this is something I love doing, something that I feel is an absolute necessity in my life, it’s not easy. Sometimes, I wonder if my belief that I must make this game is just a defense mechanism or an obsession. Then I question that doubt, but in the end, conscious thoughts don’t seem to help much. My dreams don’t seem to have much to say about it—maybe that just means I should keep going. Standing inside the storm while trying to observe it from outside isn’t an easy thing.

I think I slept for about 30 hours after taking medicine for a fever. I still feel sore, drained, and my back hurts. In the meantime, I fixed various bugs and applied some additional feedback. One of the recurring comments was that the boss fight was too difficult, so I added a system that lowers only the boss fight difficulty after a certain number of retries. I’m not sure how it’ll feel in practice.
Aside from pitching, I’m preparing for the next steps. I applied for testing on Stove, a platform that, while not large in scale, provides solid user feedback and has a team genuinely committed to supporting indie games. Based on the test feedback, I’ll fix what I can and, if everything goes well, aim for Next Fest by the end of next month. I still have lingering regrets from the last time when I couldn’t make improvements despite receiving valuable feedback. If major changes or additions are needed, I might hold off and aim for the following Next Fest instead. Since this is the first test and the first round of feedback, I can’t help but feel a bit nervous.
I don’t claim to know much about AI, but from a user’s perspective, Claude seems far more helpful than ChatGPT when it comes to troubleshooting bugs I run into while working in Unreal Engine. ChatGPT mostly hallucinated when I ran into frustrating issues, and at best, it just served as a mirror that helped me figure things out on my own through trial and error. Claude, on the other hand, often provided useful answers. I even came across a post where someone fed Claude an EXE made in Visual Basic without DLLs from 20 years ago, and it generated Python code for it. In the end, I ended up subscribing to Claude as well. It’s a bit annoying that tokens run out quickly after only a little usage, though.
For textures used in effects, decals, signages, and icons, MidJourney easily outperforms human-made assets. For videos, I use Kling or Runway, and for voice work, I rely on ElevenLabs. I use ChatGPT for translations and had DeepSeek review them, but its free usage limits and other restrictions were too much of a hassle, so I’m considering switching to Claude for that as well. AI expenses add up each month, but compared to outsourcing, it’s an incomparable efficiency boost for a solo indie developer like me.
I also tried Suno for music, but it just didn’t work for me. However, I’ve heard that some players actually enjoy Suno’s AI-generated music. I’ve said this here many times before, but I still look forward to the day when I can release a game every month using just sketches and prompts.

I never realized it before, but using UMG feels like handling a ticking time bomb. I don’t know about now, but back in the day, UI work was often assigned to junior developers. If you’re using UMG, that’s definitely a bad idea. UMG is great for quickly and easily getting results, but if you don’t manage objects properly, it can end up being the thing that crashes your game. I vaguely remember reading something in Unreal Engine’s profiler documentation about UI being a performance issue, though I’m not sure if that was directly related. Either way, after dealing with it firsthand, I’ve come to respect UMG’s dangers once again. If you don’t know what you’re doing, like I didn’t, it can be a total disaster. Fixing this mess has been exhausting. I’d love to rebuild the UI from scratch, but there’s already too much in place.

While working on controller support, I also wrapped up additional camera auto-adjustments and other necessary features specifically for gamepad controls. I made some adjustments to the save system as well, ensuring it can store progress across multiple persistent levels for the upcoming stages. I’ve been thinking about how to push the cassette futurism aesthetic further, but I’m not quite sure what to focus on. I even added a screen hood to the kiosks on purpose, but it barely makes a difference. There are still a lot of areas in the game that feel lacking, but it’s hard to pinpoint exactly where. That’s why I’m planning to start a closed user test in March to gather feedback. In hindsight, maybe I should’ve done user testing before pitching.