As for the publication date, there’s a little trick here: I set it to September 9th, which is obviously not the day this article was finished.
It’s already been more than a month since Black Myth: Wukong launched. During that month, right at release, I was on a business trip in Lingnan, forced to swing my staff remotely over a laggy connection and 30‑fps animation, suffering quite a bit. Along the way, there were the smug moments of pummeling a boss to death with wild blows, and the social anxiety from getting stuck in ways I didn’t expect; the impotent rage of getting lost even with a guide open, and the indescribable delight of turning a corner and suddenly seeing a spectacular new vista. Finally, after all the hardships of achieving 100% completion, there was another wave of emptiness. Had I started writing at any one of those stages, this article would have turned out very differently.
A toast to idealism
I’ve always admired — with a good deal of respect — things that are highly aesthetic, a bit obsessive, and run counter to business logic: first Luo Yonghao’s Smartisan, then Carter’s Game Science. Whether these products succeed or fail isn’t that important to me; I want to see them inject even the slightest difference into this world. History is written by the victors, but Smartisan’s obsession with industrial design and Game Science’s obsession with environmental art are cut from the same cloth. The difference in their outcomes is worth pondering; if I get the chance, I might write a separate article to analyze it in detail.
Before I watched and listened to GCORES’ episodes about Black Myth: Wukong, I simply attributed the fact that such an almost perfect work in terms of culture and emotion could be released to one thing: idealism. After learning these scattered bits of information, some of the details hidden beneath that idealism gradually came into focus.
A clear goal, a willingness to put in the hard work, and a group of like‑minded people. A clichéd methodology, every step firmly taken yet not easy to execute. Carter, Yang Qi, and Li Jiaqi are certainly brimming with talent, but there are plenty of problems that talent alone can’t solve. After hearing that even the Wolf Scout has more than 60 different animations, the hard work put in along the pipeline by animators and riggers suddenly becomes very concrete. Music director Li Jiaqi said: when you see your colleagues in art polishing details to that degree, it becomes completely impossible for you to hand in something rough.
It must be because they set out to do something that would “break through the old void” that the team could be this cohesive. In the end, I suddenly thought of another “team” from a hundred years ago.
Unfinished — so where does the road lead?
I first heard the song “Unfinished” on a video platform. At that time, public discussion of the story was still in a divergent phase before settling, and from a few offhand remarks by friends I was somewhat worried about the plot: was it really at the level of third‑rate web fiction?
After seeing the ending animation and the lyrics of this song, my mood suddenly relaxed, because from that moment on, none of what came before — not even the game’s gameplay itself — felt that important. Everyone can choose their own so‑called “core” to see; I saw what I wanted to see.
Immortality does not last.
No matter how beautifully the gods and buddhas of Heaven and Spirit Mountain present themselves, no matter how prosperous the incense and worship across the Four Continents, no matter how widely they preach the doctrine of saving all sentient beings, none of it can conceal their fundamental nature of feeding on “people.” This “Lingyun‑ism” is destined to be overturned one day.
Once gone with no return, then it’s gone with no return.
In the final shot of the ending animation, the Great Sage clinks cups one last time with comrades who have already become phantoms. The wine running from the corner of his mouth looks just like tears. With a shake of his cloak, he reveals the back of a hero; “Unfinished” begins to play. I imagine that this time, when he hefts his thousand‑jin staff and takes to the sky, it’s not just for Flower‑Fruit Mountain, but to sweep away all the injustice under heaven and earth.
In the end
With the whole country watching, and 20 million copies sold in a single month, I believe Wukong is destined to remain a one‑of‑a‑kind title. But Game Science has proven that you can make a living in game development without having to bow and scrape. The Great Sage has completed his mission, and in time there will surely be worthy successors to inherit his “spirit” — not limited to video games, but in other cultural works as well.