When Leenzee Games officially released its fantasy action game Wuchang: Fallen Feathers on July 24, hopes were high that it could replicate last year’s global success of China’s blockbuster game, Black Myth: Wukong. It had already reached a remarkable feat for the gaming industry, having sold nearly 3 million copies worldwide as of Aug. 31, according to an estimation by market research platform Video Game Insights.

And yet, when patch 1.5 arrived on Aug. 12 to introduce adjustments to the game, Wuchang was soon embroiled in a public relations crisis. Previously defeatable bosses were rendered unkillable, and character descriptions within the game were given a positive spin. Following the patch in China — Wuchang’s overwhelmingly predominant user base — ratings improved; outside of China, ratings plummeted, with players calling it “unplayable.”

For non-Chinese players, the change was confounding. After all, in terms of gameplay, Wuchang is fairly conventional. Inspired by the Dark Souls series by Japanese producer Hidetaka Miyazaki, the game integrates traditional Asian and Chinese aesthetics with Lovecraftian elements. This “soulslike” model — characterized by difficult fights and boss battles that can lead to an instant loss of resources — has been dominating the market, particularly for its relatively economical, action-focused design.

However, what has made Wuchang stand out from the pack — and ruffle so many feathers — is its controversial setting around the collapse of the Ming dynasty in 1644.

The fall of the Ming and the subsequent rise of the Qing dynasty (1644–1911), which was led by a Jurchen tribe from the northeast, is a seminal event in China, occupying a similar place in the public imagination as the Wars of the Roses in England. The shift is, in essence, one feudal dynasty simply replacing another. But in some corners of the polarized Chinese internet, it has become a point of contention over which dynasty had more legitimacy to carry the banner of Confucianism and Chinese culture.

Given that Wuchang is set in the final years of the dynasty, players likely assumed they would take on the role of Ming warriors resisting the Qing armies and asserting what they considered the orthodox culture. Instead, Ming dynasty generals — including some real-life heroes and even the last emperor of the Ming dynasty — were infected with a supernatural disease, turning them into monsters that players had to defeat. The Qing dynasty and its armies were nowhere to be seen.

This narrative, by invoking supernatural forces and natural disasters to explain the Ming’s crisis, can be seen as an effort to steer clear of the muddy water without offending either side. Yet, it still stoked the ire of players and the broader online community, with some condemning the very act of omitting the Qing armies’ threat. Players took to the gaming platform Steam, where a deluge of negative reviews caused the Wuchang team to issue an official apology on microblogging platform Weibo. Outside gaming circles, internet celebrities also chimed in, demanding the historical fantasy feature an “accurate” historical perspective, while discussions became barbed once the topic reached major social media and short-video platforms. The Wuchang team responded by changing the story — claiming that the Qing had already been defeated by the Ming troops in the game.

The controversy surrounding Wuchang is revealing in many ways — both of the industry’s player-creator dynamic, and of attitudes toward what role China’s nascent video game industry ought to play when promoting Chinese culture.

The industry as a whole still retains a producer-centered system, with the core development team exercising final say over plot and gameplay. Traditionally, investors have a certain degree of influence, but it’s difficult for them to directly affect game development based on their more targeted, calculated strategies. Often, a successful game producer can wield almost singular influence.

In artistic circles, this producer influence would be hailed as maintaining creative independence and not bowing to commercial pressure. Yet in the highly commercialized and popularized world of gaming, this very approach can be seen as a kind of elite arrogance and risk unleashing significant public backlash. Such was the case with Neil Druckmann, the producer of the action-adventure game The Last of Us Part II, who remained unmoving in the face of fierce criticism about its polarizing story when it was released in 2020. Fans of the franchise became frustrated with his rebuttals, which further stoked anger.

With Wuchang, it was a perfect storm, with players’ satisfaction with the story directly determining their respect for the artists involved. After the controversy broke out, the game’s producer, Xia Siyuan, took to social media to express his grievances, which only served to further rile up the game’s critics. According to a Bilibili content creator who claimed to be his friend, Xia had experienced intense cyberbullying, weight loss, and stress, which angry netizens said he “deserved” — even photoshopping him into Qing dynasty clothing.

The extremity of how Chinese players view creators is quite stark — switching between seeing them as gods or villains and nothing in between. And so, when a creator is perceived to have offended players, rebukes are swift and merciless, and quick corrections may not be enough.

In China, a game is not just a game. Underpinning the complex creator-player dynamic is the common notion among Chinese players that domestic video games bear a responsibility to properly export Chinese culture — with a central question revolving around what this culture ought to mean. A vocal contingent of Chinese players — who can sometimes overlap with “keyboard warriors” on social media — often drown out other player voices as they demand that creators of cultural products share what they consider the “right” form of culture. Glimmers of this appeared with Black Myth: Wukong, which was more often hailed as a successful export of traditional Chinese culture than as a fun game.

As the Wuchang creators breathe sighs of relief at the quick-fix solution to the Ming generals and reprieve from the domestic maelstrom, it remains to be seen how the controversy will affect game creators in the long run. Whether it means more caution when using historical settings or increased oversight over narratives to curb creator independence, it’s clear that the Chinese gaming industry is still experiencing growing pains and is vulnerable to pressures to adjust its stances as it matures in real time under the scrutiny of social media. Last year’s Black Myth: Wukong may have allowed Chinese games to experience a stratospheric rise, but Wuchang brought them crashing back to earth.

Translator: David Ball.

(Header image: A poster for the game Wuchang: Fallen Feathers. From Bilibili)