Broken Character.

To explain: it refers to a character so absurdly overpowered in competitive games that they disrupt game balance.

The consensus is that broken characters first emerged centuries ago, when the Queen’s rules were formalized in chess. But if you rewind a bit further, you could trace their origins to the 2D fighting games that dominated arcade cabinets decades ago.

What defines a broken character is this: everyone wants to play them.

“People like things that are easy and strong. You ever use a gun called the TRG?”

“No.”

“See? No one uses that gun.”

“I only know it’s used in Europe.”

“But it’s not mainstream, is it? It’s niche, right?”

“I’ll give you that.”

“The TRG is a niche firearm that only gun maniacs or professionals would know. But once upon a time, in South Korea, it was hailed as the world’s strongest sniper rifle. Hm? Hit someone in the body? Half HP. Headshot? Instant death.”

Isn’t that obvious?

Even Skelton would die from a bullet to the head.

Unlike my indifferent response, Foxgames—his ego inflated from recent successes—spread his arms wide in exaggerated gestures, trying to broadcast his ideas with passion.

“That gun got famous because it was broken!”

“...Broken?”

“Yeah! It had busted stats in the game, so players just assumed—‘Oh, this must be the strongest gun in the world.’”

“...”

“Same with characters, right?”

“?”

“Think about it. There’s this character in-game who’s so strong it practically glitches the system. People go, ‘Whoa, this character’s insane,’ and everyone starts picking them. But user experience—UX—doesn’t just exist in the moment. It oxidizes over time, like a peeled apple slowly turning brown. The color changes, the tone changes.”

Foxgames paused to catch his breath.

It looked like what came next was the real point.

“Okay! So Skelton’s a broken character. No—a completely busted one. Now think: how do players who use Skelton see Skelton? Hm?”

I feel a gaze.

Particularly, Hong Da-jeong is staring at me like she’s burning a hole through my skull.

I’ve long grown numb to such stares.

Even if they’re laced with hostility or suspicion, I walk my own road, unshaken.

“...Uh. Skelton’s strong?”

“Exactly! These days, there’s this vague mob mentality, like crabs in a bamboo basket yanking down the one trying to climb out. That’s what’s happening to Skelton right now!”

“...”

“If this game hits big, there’s no question. People will see the monstrous performance of broken Skelton and start to reevaluate. ‘Damn, this guy isn’t just strong—he’s been steadily wiping out humanity’s worst monsters without even having Jeon Si-hoon’s abilities.’”

“...I see.”

The stares intensify again, but what can I do?

Foxgames is speaking with the wisdom of experience.

They say some people eat their years through their ass, but age still brings valuable perspective.

I think Foxgames just laid down some truth.

Besides, the man did become a corporate executive.

He knows how to persuade people.

“Now, here’s the original game mode based on Skill Attack mechanics: the ‘Skelton Attack’ mode.”

Foxgames switched the screen.

Up to now, everything had been a rehash of the old-school “Sudan Attack,” but the new mode—clearly still in development—was packed with his ambition.

“This is the Monster Hunting Mode.”

He wanted to recreate what us Hunters do when we take down monsters.

“This here is a monster. Still in early development, so we just upscaled a humanoid NPC and painted it gray, but check this out.”

Foxgames clicked his laser pointer.

The frozen image on screen began to move.

Boom!

“What’s that?”

A wave.

The monster-in-development copied a real monster’s shockwave attack.

That wasn’t all.

Bang! Tatatatang!

When a player character opened fire, the monster emitted a wave and deployed a reflective barrier, returning the bullets straight back to the attacker.

“Even a reflection field?”

I reacted, and Foxgames nodded, pleased.

“Yep. It’s still in development, so the visuals need work, but it’s a perfect monster. Like in real life, it forces the monster to waste shockwaves through intimidation tactics, then the player sneaks in for close quarters combat, just outside reflection range.”

“Hmm.”

Honestly? Not bad.

Still, one question rose in my mind.

“So in this setup, how exactly am I a broken character?”

Foxgames pointed at me again.

“Look closely, Skelton.”

He clicked another button.

A chart popped up.

< Character: “Skelton” — Unique Traits >

Exclusive weapon: “Dual Axes (Tentative Name)”

Dual Axes: +250% damage modifier against monsters, +30% critical hit rate

Unique active skill: “Skelton’s Wrath” — +75% melee attack speed, +15 attack power, removes all debuffs and status effects

Passive skill: “Skelton Step” — +30% movement speed over other characters when engaging in melee

Contains hidden modifiers not displayed in-game tooltips

Cheon Young-jae, staring at the giant table of stats, suddenly said:

“...That’s a gorilla.”

Strong as a gorilla, huh?

I usually have good control over my expression, but learning that the character named after me was as strong as a gorilla made me crack a little smile.

Of course, I kept it off my face—discipline and habit.

All eyes turned to me.

Hong Da-jeong and M9 stared with clear, unmistakable concern.

Right on cue.

“Skelton, this might be overboard.”

“I think so too.”

They questioned it immediately.

And honestly, I didn’t get it.

“?”

What’s the issue?

I think it suits a myth-level named character like Skelton just fine.

I only have one complaint.

“Foxgames.”

He folded his arms and nodded smugly.

“It’s all great, but—”

“Skelton. That’s too much, man.”

“People are gonna talk.”

Some mutters rose beside me, but I ignored them.

“Can we change the face a little?”

Foxgames grinned.

“That’s easy.”

Like he’d been waiting, he pulled up a list of character models that could replace Skelton’s face.

“These are celebrity models. We did a bunch of collabs. Pick one you like, I’ll swap the visual for you.”

The graphics were janky—fitting for a 20-year-old game—but the models still showed effort, sculpted with limited resources.

Most were generically handsome or beautiful, but one really caught my eye.

“What’s that one?”

I pointed at a model in the lower left.

“Oh? That? That’s Jeon Un-woo. Don’t know him? Officially the most handsome man in Korea.”

“...Hmm.”

Looking closely, he kind of resembles me.

Facial structure, overall vibe—it’s there.

Then Hong Da-jeong chimed in.

“Don’t you dare.”

Maybe because I’d ignored her too many times, her face now looked like the one she made when drone-striking someone.

“Hey, Park Gyu. Even for you, this is crossing a serious line.”

Even M9 joined in, so I figured it was time to show some social ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) grace and back off a little.

Suppressing my regret, I turned to Foxgames and said lightly,

“Could you tweak this one to resemble me instead?”

“You mean Jeon Un-woo?”

Foxgames grinned.

I nodded.

Different generations, different values, different styles—but in that moment, we saw eye to eye.

Foxgames wanted my feedback on game lore, and he wanted to use my name in the title.

He once told me that in his student days, the best games were often named after legends—WWII pilots like Chuck Yeager, military writers like Tom Clancy, or devs like Sid Meier.

In an age where everything’s decaying, going retro is a kind of tribute to a past that’s never coming back.

“To me, it’s an honor.”

And just like that, the title of Foxgames’ ambitious first project under Fox Gaming World was finalized:

[ Skelton’s Monster Battle ]

It’s a clunky title, sure—but a game doesn’t need to be fancy or pretentious.

In fact, I find it refreshing—intuitively honest.

“I’ll go over the main game content again. This is the co-op part—Monster Battle mode. Just think of yourself as a tester and tell me everything, no filter.”

I didn’t really care.

I don’t like games, and I’m not good at them.

As I said, if something’s inaccurate, I’ll just point it out.

From here on out, it was Hong Da-jeong, Cheon Young-jae, and M9’s time.

I crossed my arms and waited for the Q&A to wrap.

“You guys really worked hard today. Seriously. For a creator like me, sincere feedback is invaluable. I’ll reflect everything I can! Till next time!”

And the meeting ended in success.

Personally? I was satisfied.

It’s nice to have my name on what might become a national sensation—but more than that, having a character named after me dominate the game with broken stats... I won’t lie, it stirred something.

Still, these people...

Why are they so grumpy?

"Doesn't it seem kind of half-assed to you?"

"They're saying Monster Battle is the main content, but that part's the most janky. The monsters look like placeholders, and that so-called reflection field is just embarrassingly crude."

"I know people are starved for games these days, but this feels too outdated. The polish is awful. Sure, they might grab at it if there's nothing else to play, but as soon as a competitor shows up, it'll get tossed."

It was nothing but harsh criticism.

Especially toward Monster Battle Mode—the part where I’m the lead—they were outright hostile.

"Skelton, what do you think?"

Hong Da-jeong came over directly, breaking her earlier cold silence.

"What do I think about what?"

"That game. The game."

"Well, considering the times, it doesn’t seem all that bad."

"That’s not what I’m asking. Skelton, are you really okay with lending your name and face to some half-baked game like that? Okay, not your face, but still."

Before I could answer, M9 butted in.

"Yo. Skelton. This really ain't it."

"Be specific. Is the game just not fun?"

"You already know."

"I think it looks fun."

Then came Cheon Young-jae.

"Senpai."

"Don’t tell me you think it’s not fun too?"

"No, it’s not about whether it’s fun or not."

"Okay."

"Your character. It’s broken, right?"

"I don’t know the details, but that’s what they say."

"Just because you’re broken doesn’t mean people who hated you will suddenly praise you. I don’t think it works like that."

"That’s a fair opinion."

"To me, being a broken character is a double-edged sword. It might just mean you’ll get flamed even harder."

"I’d rather get hate comments than none at all."

That’s enough talk.

I’d collected enough opinions.

It’s just a game.

If public opinion turns around because of it, great. If it doesn’t, whatever.

Personally, I think it’s going to boost my image.

After that, I had a one-on-one with Foxgames, free from all the background noise.

Foxgames.

He lacks technical skill, but he has a good sense for things.

"My dream is to recreate every one of Skelton’s battles. Some of it’s been drawn in Filkrum’s comics, but that’s not enough. I’m planning to include as many monster types as possible, and even make up a few for dramatic scenes."

And just like that, a week passed in a flash.

The beta test for Skelton’s Monster Battle went live.

True to all the viral marketing and forum hype, it exploded. People flooded the Dead Internet trying to play it.

It was so bad, the entire regional network briefly crashed.

That’s Foxgames for you.

I mean, he did use my name—so maybe it’s not that surprising.

Getting attention is the hardest part of anything in this world.

But once you’ve got it? You can do anything.

Foxgames’ new title had it from the start.

That’s all that matters, isn’t it?

Still, it’d be rude not to check in on the online reaction.

Thinking that, I headed over to the Skelton’s Monster Battle forum.

Contrary to Cheon Young-jae’s concerns, the response wasn’t bad.

Sure, the game’s old-school and a little clunky, but most people felt it struck a decent balance given today’s tech and constraints.

Unfortunately, there was no info yet about the “broken” character Skelton.

Apparently, it’s not included in the beta—still in development.

The one original feature Foxgames poured his heart into—Monster Battle—was getting panned, just as we expected.

That’s Foxgames for you. All passion, no execution.

Still, that beta test brought unexpected luck.

"Oh! Hunter Park!"

Jeon Si-hoon contacted me first.

"I heard you're in that new game? Totally caught me off guard!"

He may be hiding his claws, but Jeon Si-hoon is destined to be the king of Seoul.

Reaching out to him myself would’ve been awkward—but if he contacts me first? That’s an opportunity.

It means I can ask him for help without groveling. No damage to my pride.

"Ah, seriously? They implemented Intimidating and even Skelping? That’s insane. I’ve only heard about it, never actually seen it in action. Wow. I didn’t expect much since it’s such an old game, but to see classic Hunter technique brought back like that—it got my blood pumping!"

I steered the conversation exactly where I wanted it.

"Paju Rift?"

Thanks to info gathered through a soldier tied to Defender, I’d learned that Yoo Yang-seo’s faction was obsessively policing the area around the Rift.

Apparently, 80% of the surveillance equipment near the Rift was aimed not at monsters—but at people.

That alone showed her hostility.

She had no intention of letting anyone near it.

Meaning: contrary to my plan, I couldn’t go in alone.

So I’d have to change tactics.

And the easiest, safest option?

Call in a powerful friend.

"Yeah. Ms. Yoo Yang-seo’s guarding it right now—but she’s not inside it or anything. Oh... Are you interested in what’s in there?"

Teaming up with Jeon Si-hoon is distasteful, but realistically, it’s the best option.

Foxgames’ new game pulled off something big.

If Jeon hadn’t reached out first, I would’ve had to approach him—and that probably would’ve led to some pretty unfavorable terms.

We set a meeting.

Details could wait till we spoke face-to-face.

“...”

After the call ended, a bitter taste lingered in my mouth, impossible to explain.

I stared into space, hollow.

Not sure how much time passed.

Then—hurried footsteps in the hall.

Cheon Young-jae.

“Senpai! It’s bad!”

Of course.

With a faint sigh of relief, I smiled weakly and asked the junior I could always count on,

“What is it?”

“Check this out.”

He shoved his phone screen in front of me.

I looked.

“...What is this?”

News of a new game release.

Not from Foxgames—a third-party developer.

“You’re making too big a deal out of this.”

“Look at the quality! It makes that crap game look like garbage!”

I stared at the screen in silence.

Looking closely, I had to admit...

It’s lacking.

No—it's just not enough.

“...”

But here we are.

Only one thing left to say.

“...Hmph. Is it really that bad?”