mesbooks Chapter 298 Target, Titanic's Opponent
Chapter 298 Target, Titanic's Opponent
Chapter 298 Target, Titanic's Opponent
As 1997 drew to a close, just as Kitahara Shin had spent a staggering $15 million (nearly 2 billion yen) to acquire a massive abandoned heavy machinery factory in Chiba Prefecture at a bargain price, and was frantically building a Resident Evil mansion set inside, a super blockbuster destined to leave an immortal mark on world film history, like a deep-sea earthquake triggering a global tsunami, was officially released in theaters worldwide.
The name of this movie is Titanic.
James Cameron, the mad director jokingly referred to as the "tyrant on set" by Hollywood, used his almost obsessive fervor and a staggering total budget of $200 million to prove to audiences around the world what a true "cinematic spectacle" is.
When that colossal ship, hailed as a "miracle of world industrial history," slowly breaks apart and sinks into the frigid depths of the Atlantic Ocean on the big screen; when Jack and Rose bid each other a final farewell in the icy waters; when Celine Dion's ethereal and soul-stirring "My Heart Will Go On" resonates simultaneously in tens of thousands of cinemas worldwide—
The global market response can only be described as "utterly devastating".
From North America to Europe, from bustling Hong Kong to Japan currently experiencing an economic downturn, countless viewers wept uncontrollably in theaters. This is more than just a movie; it's a global cultural celebration that transcends cultures, races, and national borders. Box office numbers have skyrocketed like a rocket strapped with a nuclear bomb, soaring at an unprecedented speed, easily breaching the formidable barrier of one billion dollars, and now charging towards even greater heights. Numerous film critics have even preemptively predicted that next year's Academy Awards will be completely swept by this film.
In a top-tier private cinema in Tokyo, Kitahara Shin booked an entire screening room and calmly watched the more than three-hour-long "Titanic".
As the lights in the screening room came on, while the several executives from Kitahara Productions who accompanied him were still secretly wiping their eyes, Kitahara Shin simply picked up his coffee and took a small sip.
There was no surprise on his face.
As a time traveler with a prophetic perspective, he knew all too well just how incredible this "giant ship" was. He knew that this film would not only create a devastating box office record in the present, but even more than a decade later, when Cameron simply converted it into a 3D version and re-released it, it would still rake in billions of dollars from audiences worldwide. This was the ultimate vitality of top-tier commercial films.
"President, this—this is simply an invincible monster!" A producer next to me looked at the scrolling credits on the screen, his tone filled with deep shock and a hint of helplessness. "We're releasing 'Resident Evil' after it; won't we be affected by its lingering impact?"
Kitahara Shin put down his coffee cup, a calm and confident smile curving his lips.
"Don't compare our film to Titanic." Kitahara Shin's voice sounded particularly calm in the empty screening room. "Cameron reigns supreme over disaster and ultimate romance, creating love myths that resonate with men, women, and children all over the world. That's his arena."
"Our goal is simple. I'm not aiming to surpass the box office of this big ship at this point in time, but Resident Evil..."
We absolutely must become the undisputed leader in another market segment, on the same commercial level as it!
A glint of ambition flashed in Kitahara Shin's eyes. In the mainstream global film market of this era, the concept of "zombies" was still very new to the average viewer. Most zombie films of the past were poorly made B-movies, niche and cheap.
If he can use a top-tier blockbuster budget of seventy to eighty million US dollars, the most realistic special effects, and the most hardcore action scenes to bring adrenaline-pumping themes like "zombie virus" and "survival in dire straits" to the big screen for the first time in the form of a heavy-duty blockbuster, the chilling thrill and novelty will absolutely drive thrill-seeking audiences around the world to buy tickets like crazy!
"Break over, everyone." Kitahara Shin stood up, straightening the hem of his suit. "Big ships have their routes. Now, it's time to let the world witness our biohazard frenzy. Let's go back to the set."
Chiba Prefecture, the fully enclosed giant indoor set of Resident Evil: Origins.
Thanks to the bursting of the bubble economy, Kitahara Shin acquired this enormous, abandoned heavy industrial factory at a very low price. After clearing out the old machine tools inside, it was transformed into a perfect, unobstructed, giant film studio.
As Kitahara Shin changed into his costume and stepped into the eerie Arklay Mansion set, a 1:1 replica of the game that cost 15 million US dollars, the upgraded system in his mind instantly and silently activated.
[The absolute film set territory has been opened.]
[Genre Classification: Sci-Fi Thriller/Zombie Action Blockbuster]
[Environmental filters, group flow enhancement, and prop texture enhancement are all included.]
As the system activated, the entire production crew underwent an incredible, almost magical transformation the moment filming began—
The first to feel this terrifying power were the extras recruited from all over the country after going through layers of screening.
Yamada is an ordinary middle-aged man who went bankrupt due to the bubble economy. To make a living, he signed up to play an "ordinary zombie" in this movie. In the dressing room, the special effects makeup artist covered his face with realistic silicone rotten flesh and put on cloudy, whitish contact lenses. At that moment, Yamada was still grinning foolishly at himself in the mirror, calculating that he could earn a hefty salary just by casually gesturing and walking around.
However, when the director shouted "Action" through a megaphone, and when Yamada dragged his heavy steps into the dark mansion corridor of the actual set...
An indescribable chill instantly shot up his spine.
Yamada's mind suddenly went blank. Under the forced guidance of the system's "group flow enhancement," his normal sense of shame and rationality were completely blocked. He felt his joints become extremely stiff, and a "hunger" that seemed to come from the depths of his soul completely took over his instincts.
He involuntarily lowered his head, a low, chilling growl emanating from his throat, like a broken bellows. His shoulders were twisted in a way that defied the natural physiology of a living person, his steps faltering yet carrying a deadly obstinacy. He slowly turned around, his pale eyes fixed on the camera at the end of the corridor.
That wasn't an act; at that moment, Yamada felt like he had truly become a walking corpse yearning for fresh flesh and blood.
"Cut! Perfect!" Behind the monitor, the co-director was trembling with excitement.
He stared at the playback in disbelief. In the past, when filming these kinds of extras, there were always a few people who would burst into laughter out of awkwardness, or whose movements would be so exaggerated they resembled a Taiwanese opera dance. But today, the dozens of wandering zombies on screen—every micro-expression, every muscle twitch—were so real it made him want to vomit! The overwhelming sense of despair and oppression was more realistic than any actual documentary!
Not only the extras, but the entire behind-the-scenes team of the production crew were also in a state of divine inspiration and madness.
The director of photography noticed that the bulky Steadicam seemed weightless today. As he carried the camera and ran alongside the protagonist down the corridor, his steps were incredibly perfectly synchronized. The shots weren't cluttered at all; instead, they seemed to come alive, precisely capturing the dappled, swaying shadows of zombies on the walls and the fleeting wariness in the protagonist's eyes. The quality of light and shadow, without the need for excessive post-production color grading, directly presented a top-tier Hollywood-style, chilling, and terrifying aesthetic.
The special effects department and props team were in an unprecedented frenzy.
Supported by a staggering total budget of seventy to eighty million US dollars, coupled with the inspiration brought by the system, the special effects artists created "zombie dog" mechanical models that were no longer rigid tin toys. The viscous fake blood and bulging veins, under the set lights, exuded a nauseatingly realistic sheen.
Even those working on post-production computer-generated imagery (CGI) found it exceptionally easy to integrate with the live-action footage. The physical texture of the live-action footage was so strong that they only needed to lightly overlay a layer of CGI models on top to achieve a seamless blend. Inspiration sparked throughout the team, and everyone was caught up in a frenzy of "spending the budget like crazy to create visual spectacle."
The crew's daily routine is: Not enough of a shocking explosion? No problem, triple the explosives, rebuild a huge hall, and blow it up again! Want a more realistic helicopter crash scene? Just buy a retired real helicopter, fill it with gasoline, and smash it on the spot!
Kitahara Shin's financial resources and the system's assistance completely liberated all filmmakers from their constraints.
In this frenzied visual feast, the most dazzling absolute core is undoubtedly Kitahara Shin himself.
When Kitahara Shin finished his makeup and walked out of the dressing room, all the staff on set, even the few zombie actors waiting in the corner, couldn't help but stop what they were doing and stare at him in a daze.
so similar.
It's not the kind of crude cosplay, but the kind of top-notch recreation that truly strips away the pixelated models of game characters and breathes them with a real soul.
Shin Kitahara plays Chris Redfield, a core member of the STARS team.
He wore a heavy, distressed tactical bulletproof vest, his arms sculpted with the "Ring of Life," revealing muscles as perfectly defined and explosive as those of an ancient Greek sculpture. His hair was slicked back with hair gel, and a trace of deliberately applied bloodstain clung to his forehead.
A black Beretta "Samurai Blade" custom pistol was securely holstered in a quick-draw holster on the outside of his thigh, and a Remington shotgun was slung across his back.
That already handsome face, now enhanced by the system's acting aura and atmosphere filter, shed all its youthful air and refinement, transforming into a cold and ruthless expression, like a lone wolf, having experienced countless life-and-death battles.
He simply stood there, one hand on the heavy wooden door of the mansion, the sharp, wary light in his eyes instilling a deep sense of awe in everyone present. This was the backbone of the entire crew, the ultimate war god capable of carving a bloody path through a biohazardous emergency.
Standing beside him was Rie Miyazawa, who had undergone two months of grueling training and ultimately landed the role of the female lead, Jill Valentine.
This top actress, who was once delicate and charming in art films, has now completely transformed.
She wore that iconic blue tight-fitting tactical uniform, which perfectly accentuated her curves. For this role, she sweated countless hours in the gym, developing exceptionally beautiful lines and muscle definition into her originally slender arms.
"Are you ready?" Kitahara Shin turned his head and glanced at Miyazawa Rie beside him, a faint smile playing on his lips.
"Sir, we are ready to fire at any time." Rie skillfully pulled the pump-action forend of her shotgun, and with a crisp "click" of the chamber being cocked, a bead of sweat slid down her full forehead. In her eyes now, there was no trace of a movie star's delicate beauty, only the unwavering resolve of a female warrior.
"Action!"
With a crisp "snap" as the clapperboard fell, the air in the entire lobby of the mansion seemed to instantly drop to freezing point.
Kitahara Shin's "Absolute Set Domain," practically a cheat code, was at full power in that instant. The already expensively constructed set hall, automatically reconstructed by the system's lighting and filtering, presented a chillingly claustrophobic atmosphere. The enormous crystal chandelier overhead, worth tens of thousands of dollars, swayed slightly, casting shadows that resembled distorted ghosts; the black and white diamond-patterned marble floor, specially imported from Italy, gleamed with an unsettling cold light, perfectly replicating the opulent yet deadly atmosphere of the Resident Evil game.
A perfect life-or-death struggle erupted in this luxurious tomb built with countless dollars.
"Clatter—clatter—"
A sickening creaking sound of joints twisting came from the dark corner of the second-floor corridor. Then, with a loud bang, the expensive, carved solid wood door of the second-floor corridor was smashed apart by brute force, sending real, valuable wood chips flying wildly through the air!
Three zombie actors, deeply guided by the system's "group flow enhancement," roared as they frantically pounced down the second-floor stairs. With the aid of multi-million dollar special effects makeup, the rotten silicone flesh ripped from their faces, their murky eyes glowing with an eerie yellow light, and even the sticky drool oozing from their mouths were all displayed in exquisite detail by high-speed cameras costing hundreds of thousands of dollars. They weren't running; rather, they were crawling in a twisted, uncoordinated manner, completely defying ergonomics, creating a deadly sense of oppression akin to that of a walking corpse—enough to send chills down anyone's spine in an instant.
Faced with such a terrifying scene, Kitahara Shin's movements were swift and decisive.
With the system's flawless action guidance, he seemed like the ultimate warrior who had fought countless battles in the biohazard abyss. He made no unnecessary movements of fear; his eyes were as cold as ice. He pushed off with his right foot to the side and back, his body executing a remarkably fluid tactical slide across the expensive marble floor, directly dodging the first zombie that pounced down from mid-air like a ferocious beast. The zombie's sharp claws barely grazed his tactical vest, sending a chill down everyone's spine.
At the same time, the "Samurai Blade" on the outside of his thigh was instantly drawn. His gun-drawing posture was not the flashy, cool poses often seen in movies, but the most hardcore and deadly CAR tactical shooting stance.
The gun was locked on the target without the slightest hesitation.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
The specially made large-caliber blanks exploded with a deafening roar in the barrel, spitting out dazzling orange-red flames that tore through the dimly lit hall, creating a brief but blinding flash of light. Thanks to perfect coordination within the system, the muzzle flashes, the camera's trajectory, and the explosions on the zombies were all perfectly synchronized, down to the second!
With the precise detonation of the blood pack, the head of the zombie at the forefront snapped back, and the viscous fake blood plasma, made using the latest Hollywood formula and at exorbitant cost, exploded in the air in a bizarre and horrifying spray. Realistic blood droplets scattered and splashed, with a few even landing on Kitahara Shin's cold profile, which, combined with his emotionless, deep eyes, brought the extreme violent aesthetics to its peak.
At the same time that Kitahara Shin dealt with the direct threat, Miyazawa Rie was working closely with him on the sidelines.
"Watch out for the blind spot on the left!"
With a hoarse, suppressed roar, the fourth zombie, hidden in the shadows at the corner of the stairs, suddenly sprang up, opened its blood-red maw, and lunged straight at Kitahara Shin's side and rear, perfectly replicating the thrilling "corner door kill" that is the most classic in Resident Evil.
Rie remained completely calm. She knelt on the ground, her perfect waist and hip curves taut like a bow beneath her tactical uniform. She held the heavy Remington shotgun firmly in both hands, while her left hand expertly pulled the pump-action forend.
"Click!"
With a crisp click of the barrel being cocked, the shotgun roared furiously!
"boom--!"
The immense recoil caused Rie's shoulders to tremble slightly, and a visible shockwave erupted from the muzzle of the gun. The zombie that had attempted to ambush her was blasted back more than three meters by the violent kinetic energy at close range, its body tracing a gruesome arc in mid-air.
Then came another terrifying crash. The zombie slammed heavily onto a prop in the corner of the hall—a replica of a vintage medieval knight's armor, commissioned by the production team from top overseas craftsmen at great expense, costing millions of yen just to make!
The heavy steel armor collapsed with a deafening crash, countless metal parts flying everywhere along with the sticky flesh and blood of the zombies, leaving a large, shocking stain on the once spotless, expensive handmade Persian carpet. In pursuit of the most realistic sense of destruction and visual impact, millions of dollars worth of scene props were smashed without hesitation, without even blinking an eye.
Finally, Kitahara Shin deftly flicked his wrist, completing his final tactical shot.
The scorching brass-colored shell casings spun in mid-air before landing on the gleaming marble floor with a crisp "clink, clink." The strong smell of smokeless gunpowder and the distinctive sweet and pungent odor of blood quickly filled the enclosed, realistic hall.
It all happened so fast, so smoothly, so realistically!
From breaking down the door to drawing guns and counterattacking, from tactical maneuvering to the destruction of the scene, the entire process was seamless. Under the absolute command of Kitahara Shin, the actors' movements perfectly matched the camera's optimal framing; the extras' cooperation made every kill feel visceral and impactful; and the perfectly timed explosions pushed the tense and exciting rhythm to its peak. It was so perfect that it was like a violent symphony composed with bullets, dollars, and blood.
When the director's crisp "Cut" echoed across the set, the suffocating biohazard atmosphere in the lobby finally dissipated.
Kitahara Shin casually twirled his gun, neatly sheathing "Samurai Blade" back into its holster on his outer thigh. He was slightly out of breath, glancing at the expensive wreckage and the lifelike zombie extras, his eyes radiating absolute control. Miyazawa Rie also slowly stood up, wiping the fine sweat from her brow and letting out a long breath.
Everyone in the crew knew very well that with just that one uncompromising, budget-burning single-shot take, the film already possessed the absolute strength to carve out a huge niche in the global market.