Original · Unique Research · 2026-04-13
Editor’s note: This is a full translation of the original author’s report and the complete roundtable with four guests and one moderator. First-person commentary and interpretations of the speakers’ strategies belong to that original author. The headline’s 90% loss figure, the nine-in-ten similarity claim, the 2025 market size of 18.98 billion, 276% growth, the projected 2030 size above 85 billion, and the industry hit-rate comparisons are source claims without a stated methodology or underlying dataset here. The source does not specify currencies for those market figures or the later capital and revenue amounts; none is inferred. View counts, a platform “popularity” metric, hit rates, revenue, and production scores are different measures and are not interchangeable. In particular, a popularity metric above 10 million is not presented as 10 million views. The 20% hit rate and automation split are company statements, not independently audited results. Company, product and work titles are provisionally transliterated or translated where official English forms remain unverified; writer contracts, the Zhang Yifan/Golden Horse association and platform rankings require final verification. Brain–computer interfaces, personalized endings, future cinema access and 100-million solo revenue are forecasts or possibilities, not established business outcomes. The brief quotation about losing distinctiveness is retained as printed in the narrative; the full dialogue later supplies its context of work being watched and forgotten. The source date is April 13, 2026; relative dates remain relative to the discussion, without an inferred event date.
Unique Awards
AI Comic-Style Dramas: Half Production Line, Half a Bet on Survival
When production capacity is almost unlimited and hits increasingly resemble formulas, what determines whether an AI comic-drama company survives is no longer just its models and efficiency, but the kind of future it is staking its life on.
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They said that the subjects someone my age chooses
are not suitable for today’s younger generation.
This is content for “old geezers.”
Zhou Zhipeng’s team recently did something: they took away his right to choose subjects.
He is co-founder of Chushou AI, also known as Shuimu Intelligence. Last year, 5 of the company’s dramas exceeded 100 million views, with the highest reaching 430 million. Yet this was the man his own organization removed from its “subject-selection committee.”
The reason was straightforward: they said the subjects someone his age chose were not suitable for today’s younger generation. They were “old geezer” content.
In 2025, the AI comic-drama market reached 18.98 billion, growing 276% year on year, and is expected to exceed 85 billion by 2030.
That figure looks exciting, but something else is happening in the industry: 90% of AI short-drama companies are losing money, hit rates are declining, and “9 out of 10 comic dramas have similar plots” has become a widely acknowledged industry ailment.
At this roundtable during Unique Awards AI WEEK in Hangzhou, four founders working in different parts of AI comic-style and short-form drama sat down to discuss a question nobody could avoid: in an age of unlimited production capacity, where do competitive barriers come from?
They offered four completely different answers.
The Person Who Admitted Failure Said the Most Useful Things
Let us start with Huang Chujie, because he was the most candid person in the room.
He founded Aimen Weisi. Many people know him through “Lipu Village,” one of the earliest breakout phenomena in the AIGC community. He comes from advertising and has a team of several dozen people. They launched Shengye Shu and Becoming the Demon King in a World Full of the Uncanny on Tencent Video, while also producing custom dramas with commercial product placement for Yili Jinlingguan.
The operation sounds comprehensive. But then he said:
“The dramas released on the platform have not performed very well. So far, they have only a little over 1 million views.”
Not many people volunteer a statement like that at a roundtable. He immediately added that they had entered too late: they started comic dramas only in the fourth quarter of last year, and the platform, Huolongguo, itself did not have much traffic.
But to me, his deeper point was that the team’s background determined that it could not take the mass-production route. People from advertising are obsessive about quality, attentive to style and differentiation, and inclined to build deep ties with particular IP. These are advertising professionals’ occupational habits, but also their moat in the crowded short-drama market.
“We hope to develop certain stylistic characters over the long term and find ways to differentiate them from what is already in the market.”
Interestingly, his direction—close ties with major IP—runs against many people’s assumptions. A common industry view is that AI comic dramas offer an opportunity to turn obscure, mid- and long-tail IP into hits and capture a premium. Huang Chujie says you first need to decide whether industrial-scale production is your path.
If it is, stay away from major IP: the cost is too high. But if you are like his team—small, with an advertiser’s obsession with quality—industrial-scale production was never a good fit. Aligning with major IP and making each work substantial enough to have a lasting life may instead be the way forward.
He refused to offer a universal answer for the industry. That is rare.
The Man Whose Team Took Away His Selection Rights Is Betting on Science Fiction
Zhou Zhipeng is different: much more optimistic and much more aggressive.
Many call Chushou AI the “Whampoa Military Academy of AI comic dramas.” Last year, 5 of its works passed 100 million views, with the highest at 430 million. He is now doing two things: signing leading “platinum” writers such as Tiancan Tudou and Gao Yang, and launching a professional workflow tool for creators called “Wujie Canvas.”
The direction is clear: higher-quality work and stronger IP, pursued in parallel.
He also said something that probably resonated with everyone present:
“Before AI, live-action short dramas already had a great deal of formulaic, homogeneous, templated content. AI merely accelerated that process because it produces so quickly.”
Do not blame AI. Homogeneity is an inevitable result of the content industry reaching a particular stage. AI has merely compressed a process that once unfolded over years into one measured in weeks.
He sees two routes for the industry. One is premium production and IP: sign top writers, acquire rights, and build long-tail returns. The other is data-driven, high-quality work for narrow niches: find specific audiences and compete on depth rather than volume.
“In Japan, there are probably four or five hundred manga platforms serving vertical niches alone, and each is doing well.”
Then he made a judgment I found interesting: he is betting on science fiction as the next major category. Fantasy and other-world stories are common today, but he thinks science fiction will generate substantial growth.
Why science fiction? He did not elaborate, but my interpretation is that it demands extensive world-building and is difficult to reduce to simple formulas; AI-generated visual styles have natural advantages in science-fiction settings; and in international markets, science fiction is much more accessible than Chinese cultivation fantasy.
Something else matters even more. They brought in editor Zhang Yifan, identified in the source with the Golden Horse Awards, integrating professional creative talent into the AI toolset—not to replace those people, but to help them multiply their efficiency tenfold.
“If AI can support high-quality creators, it is mainly by making them more efficient, expanding their cognitive horizons, and helping them overcome the limits of their individual capabilities.”
A 20% Hit Rate and a “Memory System”
Yang Xiaofeng described another route: Huanzhou AI is working to make the “super-individual” a reality.
His figures: more than a hundred short dramas launched, with a 20% hit rate.
Thinking about it, that is quite high for this industry. The usual situation is 1 hit out of 100 releases. A 20% rate means 1 in 5 becomes a hit. That is not luck; something systematic is at work.
His central view is that the most valuable things in the future will not be tools, but IP and ideas. As technical barriers continue to fall, everyone with a story should be able to film it.
The problem he wants to solve is that people with stories may not know how to operate the tools, while people good with tools may not have stories. How do you connect the two?
The answer was the phrase he kept returning to: a “memory system.”
Moderator Yi Yating asked twice. His second explanation was clearer: “The more you write, the more AI gradually develops your habits. Each time it writes a script, it refers to your stories and the fragments you have supplied. After enough accumulation and time spent here, switching tools means you can no longer get scripts that suit you.”
What is the logic behind that?
Put plainly, it locks in a user’s data assets. It ties users in not through a barrier of features, but through the “profile of their own style” accumulated in the system. Every story you write trains an AI director that is yours alone. Move to another platform, and that AI director is gone.
For creators, this is lock-in, but it also delivers genuine value.
One Person Launching a Short Drama in Two Days
Luo Yuan is the founder of Huanjing Jiyuan.
Her result: one person, two days, an overseas short drama launched, with its popularity metric exceeding 10 million.
The barrier she spoke about was not technology, data, or IP. It was emotion.
She said something I thought was a highlight of the roundtable:
“I would rather make you feel offended, angry, or sad. As long as you remember my short drama, that is the breakthrough.”
There is a clear-eyed creative logic behind this. When AI mass-produces content, the worst outcome is not criticism but being forgotten immediately after the viewer scrolls past. To be forgotten is effectively not to exist.
She recently made a short film called Gu Shi, released online as a demo, with more than 400,000 views. It was not simply about two people falling in love. She added a wartime backdrop, feelings about family and country, and choices about life and death.
“If I make short dramas like that, they will certainly have nothing distinctive about them.”
Her approach is essentially to counter the dilution of content with emotional intensity. What AI produces is standardized; emotion is not. The more AI production floods the market, the more valuable content that genuinely pierces an audience’s emotions becomes.
This shares the logic of Zhou Zhipeng’s “premium production,” but Luo Yuan expresses it more radically and with greater emotional force.
Have New Business Models Arrived? Not Yet, but Soon
The second major question: has AI actually changed the business model, or merely turbocharged the old one?
Huang Chujie thinks the tipping point has not arrived. Most short dramas still reuse the old logic with new tools. The commercial leap has not yet happened.
But he offered a timeline—“within five years”—and identified that tipping point: brain–computer interfaces combined with interactive short dramas generated in real time. Rather than playing a linear series, the product invites you into a story world generated as you go, making choices as if playing a game.
Zhou Zhipeng is more optimistic. He says that once supply is abundant enough, the way people watch films will change fundamentally:
“Going to a cinema could become like going to an internet café: swipe a card and watch whichever film is in whichever auditorium at any time. I think we could see this around us very soon, this year or next.”
The prediction invites skepticism, but its logic holds: when content is abundant enough and cheap enough, scheduled screenings—a system for allocating scarce resources—lose their foundation.
Yang Xiaofeng approaches it from another angle: an era of universal creation is coming. “Just as anyone can sell products in the livestreaming era, anyone will be able to make dramas in the future.”
He even said: “In the future, an ordinary person may be able to generate 100 million in revenue on their own.”
Three years ago, that would have sounded like boasting. But today, with Luo Yuan launching a drama by herself in two days, this future is no longer merely imagined.
Technology Gives Everyone a Knife, but the Knife Cannot Cut the Meat by Itself
After hearing all four speakers, my own feeling was:
The hardest part of AI comic dramas is not technology. It is choosing.
Industrial production or personalization? Scale or premium quality? Volume-driven bets on hits or a deep commitment to one direction? Neither side of any pair is absolutely right. The answer depends on your team’s background, resources, and tolerance for volatility.
Zhou Zhipeng handed selection rights to a team that understands young people better. That is one kind of rationality. Huang Chujie admitted that his numbers were not impressive but said he would keep going. That is another. Luo Yuan chooses to make viewers angry because she would rather be remembered than forgotten after a scroll. That is emotional, but strategically so.
They all mentioned one thing, in different words: the laws of the content industry do not change because of AI. Emotional intensity, story structure, and fully realized characters matter in films, live-action short dramas, and AI comic dramas alike.
The tools have changed. The craft cannot.
Technology gives everyone a knife. What gets carved out still depends on the person holding it.
More Details from the Conversation
Unique Awards · Hangzhou AI WEEK Trends Roundtable Panel
“Comic-Style and Short-Form Dramas: Creative Models and Market Potential for AI-Enhanced Expression”
Guests:
Huang Chujie — Founder, Aimen Weisi
Zhou Zhipeng — Co-founder, Shuimu Intelligence
Yang Xiaofeng — Founder, Huanzhou AI
Luo Yuan — Founder, Huanjing Jiyuan
Moderator: Yi Yating — Head of Marketing and Brand, 43AI, and founder of Yilun AI
Yi Yating: Hello, everyone. I am Yi Yating, founder of Yilun AI. First, please take a minute each to tell us what projects you have been working on recently and any notable results.
Huang Chujie: Our principal business has two parts. One is comic dramas. We recently released two dramas on Tencent Video: Shengye Shu and Becoming the Demon King in a World Full of the Uncanny. On the commercial-placement side, our customized AI drama for Yili Jinlingguan is also online, and over the past couple of days it has been releasing daily. That is where we are at present.
Zhou Zhipeng: Hello, everyone. I am Zhou Zhipeng from Shuimu Intelligence, also known as Chushou AI. Our main work today is making comic dramas with AI. Last year, around 5 of our dramas exceeded 100 million views, with the highest at roughly 430 million. We have recently been doing two things. First, we signed Tiancan Tudou, Gao Yang, and other leading platinum writers. We want to use their works to advance premium production and IP development in AI comic dramas. Second, our professional comic-drama workflow tool for creators, “Wujie Canvas,” has launched. It is currently in closed testing, and we will make some places available to creators.
Yang Xiaofeng: Hello, everyone. I am Yang Xiaofeng, founder of Huanzhou AI. We are industrializing production with AI, and our focus within that is the super-individual. We want individuals to be able to complete a drama independently in, for example, a week. In terms of automation, we have reached a point where AI does 90% of the work and people the remaining 10%. That already achieves a result of eighty or ninety points relative to human work.
Luo Yuan: We are working on scaled and automated releases of short dramas for overseas markets. I recently tried launching a drama by myself in two days, and its popularity metric exceeded 10 million. This is a new experiment.
Yi Yating: My first question is this: as AI production capacity rises, many AI short dramas are becoming increasingly homogeneous in their plots and visual quality. In this environment, how can AI comic-drama creators establish a competitive barrier? Huang, please start.
Huang Chujie: It depends on your direction: industrial-scale production or personalization. Neither is right or wrong. We have consistently favored personalization. At present, we are essentially building our own character library. People often complain about the prevalence of the “AI face,” so we are experimenting with characters in multiple styles. We also hope every work can be closely tied to IP; our released dramas already have IP behind them. Commercial work itself is highly customized and difficult to industrialize. So I think we still need personalization and differentiation.
Yi Yating: A follow-up: you mentioned a multi-style character library. What is the thinking behind that? Do you see the long-term operating value of the IP as the ultimate barrier?
Huang Chujie: We hope to develop certain stylistic characters over the long term and find ways to distinguish them from the market.
Yi Yating: Let me follow up on your second point too. You said many of your current dramas are tied to IP, which seems contrary to some people’s consensus. They think the opportunity in AI comic dramas is to make mid- and long-tail or previously unknown IP into hits and capture a premium. You seem to be going in the opposite direction. Why?
Huang Chujie: It comes back to the distinction I made. If you want industrial-scale production, developing a major IP is not really appropriate because it costs too much. Making 100 versions of one theme from different angles is a matter of probability; there is no absolute right or wrong. Our consideration is that the team has only several dozen people and limited capacity. Team members also come from advertising and have their own standards for polishing the work. The team’s background determines that we cannot scale in that way.
Yi Yating: My last follow-up: having staked your approach on those three judgments, what results have you seen so far?
Huang Chujie: Commercial product-placement dramas have been relatively successful. The dramas released on platforms have not performed very well so far. They are exclusive to Huolongguo Comic Drama, and the figures to date are only a little over 1 million views. Of course, it is a new platform with insufficient traffic, though we should at least rank in the top two on Huolongguo. We entered comic dramas relatively late, only in the fourth quarter of last year, and there is still a lot to learn. I do not think every work has to become a hit. What matters is being able to keep producing content consistently.
Yi Yating: I have interviewed Huang before. People familiar with the AIGC community may know that one of its early breakout projects, “Lipu Village,” was led by him. He is a very successful advertising professional. Now let us ask Zhou. Many people call Chushou AI the “Whampoa Military Academy” of AI comic dramas. I will put the same question to you: how do you build barriers?
Zhou Zhipeng: First, we cannot blame AI. Before AI, live-action short dramas already had extensive formulaic, homogeneous, templated content. That inevitably happens at different stages of the content industry’s development. AI only accelerated it by making production so fast. Platforms themselves do not encourage homogeneity today; they want higher-quality, IP-driven, distinctive content. Our view is that, since AI data is so advanced and algorithms can help determine what users like, you should use data and algorithms for decisions, selection, and judgment. I think practitioners have two routes. One is premium production and IP: invest in quality and IP, tie yourself to top creators, platinum writers, and excellent works. I believe that generates longer-tail returns and greater value. The other, if you do not want such heavy investment, is data-driven judgment to create high-quality content for narrower, more specialized markets and audiences. Future returns there should also be good. In Japan, for example, there are probably four or five hundred manga platforms serving vertical niches alone. Each is doing well; abundant content does not prevent them from making money.
Yi Yating: Which category of premium content are you especially betting on now, based on your data?
Zhou Zhipeng: I think science fiction will be a very important theme in the next stage. Although we also have fantasy and other-world stories, we currently see very substantial future growth in science fiction.
Yi Yating: Another follow-up: many people doing content engineering are recruiting mid- and long-tail creators who can quickly produce comic dramas, competing on output and hits. Yet you and Huang both mentioned premium production. What is the thinking behind it? Is everyone suited to it?
Zhou Zhipeng: These are actually two business paths. The first is enormous output, seeking a hit among it: 1 out of 100 or 1 out of 500. That will work as a data-based proposition. The second is to select the best directors and editors. We have invited editor Zhang Yifan, associated with the Golden Horse Awards, to help, and bring in good screenwriters for adaptations. The content industry fundamentally focuses on maximizing audiences’ emotional intensity. This is consistent across films, television series, live-action short dramas, and comic dramas. You have to respect the underlying rules of content. Addressing that requires substantial investment. We believe premium content will become the dominant theme in the industry’s later phase.
Yi Yating: In discussing premium production, you specifically singled out two types of talent: screenwriters and editors. Have their capabilities now been built into the Chushou AI platform as a barrier?
Zhou Zhipeng: They will be. We will use AI to support those roles. Wujie Canvas, for example, helps writers make decisions from subject selection onward, including early judgments and storyboards. But professionals still need to refine its output. Editing follows the same logic. If AI can support excellent creators today, it mainly helps them become more efficient, expand their cognitive horizons, and move beyond their individual limits.
Yi Yating: My last follow-up: looking at the data, do the better-performing works on Chushou AI come from beginners or from people with professional backgrounds?
Zhou Zhipeng: At present, relatively professional people perform better. Even among the largest-volume producers in the market, the owners and founders fundamentally understand content. Here is an example: yesterday, when our team reviewed the data, they stripped me of my right to participate in selecting subjects. They said the subjects someone my age chooses are not suitable for today’s younger generation: “old geezer” content. So people who understand content and are professional should make the things suited to them. That is what works.
Yi Yating: Xiaofeng, how do you view future barriers?
Yang Xiaofeng: We have launched more than a hundred short dramas, with a hit rate of 20%. Things are indeed templated and formulaic now: just as with short video, when someone has a hit, others imitate it. That is an institutional mode of production. But as technology advances, every individual will be able to create quickly in a short period. Ultimately, their IP and ideas will be the most valuable things. So in our system architecture, scripts have a personal memory system, and the directing system has a personal memory mode. AI handles the manual work while people think about what is distinctive. Many directors, screenwriters, and novelists want to make dramas but cannot use the tools effectively. We automate that part so they can produce in the direction they imagine, whether science fiction or fantasy. We do not think future hits will necessarily come from templates. Everyone has different stories. Some two-to-five-minute videos on Douyin, expressing entirely personal ideas, are excellent, like Netflix’s Black Mirror. The idea is not a formula for quick money; it is someone expressing their own thing. But they can produce only 5 minutes, not 100. We enable them to produce and monetize 100 minutes. Thousands upon thousands of new themes can then emerge. People can release their own drama, which may become even bigger than today’s major hits.
Yi Yating: A follow-up: competition among AI comic-drama platforms is intense. Some are adding people; others have strong workflows or private data. What is your platform’s advantage?
Yang Xiaofeng: I think it lies in polishing the details. In our own production, we found that making an above-average film requires professionals, but they are hard to find. So we optimize: a script must first fit short-drama structure to have a basis for becoming a hit, then it needs better camera movement and storytelling. We build personalized memory systems and use technology to compensate for individuals’ weaknesses in directing and screenwriting, helping them present their stories better.
Yi Yating: One last follow-up: you have mentioned the “memory system” twice in succession. It seems to be an important barrier for us. What exactly does it remember, and how does its output compare with that of a human director?
Yang Xiaofeng: The memory system is like emotional companionship. You have your own ideas when writing stories. The more you write, the more AI gradually develops your habits. Every script refers back to your stories and the fragments you provide. After enough accumulation and time spent here, switching tools means you cannot get scripts that suit you. Our AI director’s random generation is currently uncontrollable; it needs a lot of reference data fed into it. If you like making episodic animation rather than cultivation-fantasy comic dramas, those stories have different rhythms and characteristics. Over time, the system develops that person’s traits. Large models are developed by major companies. We compete at the application layer: where is the experience smoother, and where can users make better films?
Yi Yating: Luo, what will be the future barrier in AI?
Luo Yuan: I think short dramas need to provide value to users. Whether through visuals, scripts, character design, or story structure, we should learn from film and traditional television and bring that into short dramas. Human emotion is also a barrier. AI itself does not have human emotions, so when writing scripts we need to consider how to move people and provide value. Whether it is a period drama or a contemporary story, for example, you could offer something relevant to people’s working lives. Short dramas are easily watched and then forgotten, leaving no feeling. I often tell my team that I would rather make viewers feel offended, angry, or sad. As long as they remember my short drama, that is the breakthrough. Even making them so angry they cannot sleep is a breakthrough. We must also understand platform distribution, learn traditional story architecture and multidimensional characterization, and combine those with the gratifying moments in AI short dramas. I believe AI can bring these elements together. Emotion and sincerity are our barriers.
Yi Yating: In the dramas of yours that have recently become popular, what unspoken audience emotions do you think you touched?
Luo Yuan: For example, I recently made a short film called Gu Shi, essentially a demo posted online, which has more than 400,000 views. People found it moving because I included reflections on war and human relationships. While writing, I thought that two people simply falling in love was not compelling enough, so I added feelings about family and country and some tear-jerking scenes. The most important thing is to be remembered. My greatest fear is that people scroll past and forget it. That is very sad for a creator. If I make short dramas like that, they will have nothing distinctive about them. So being remembered is my barrier.
Yi Yating: I notice we have made everyone speak very quickly throughout this roundtable! My second question: do AI comic dramas support any new business models, or is AI merely supporting the existing short-drama model? Huang?
Huang Chujie: At present, it is mostly the old model. I do not think we have reached the tipping point for a new one. I have thought about it: future short-drama formats may be connected with mature brain–computer interfaces. They could be highly interactive, like games. For example, I could invite you into my script to play together, with the story generated in real time. Most current short dramas reuse the original logic with different tools. A discontinuous change has not yet occurred.
Yi Yating: When do you think that tipping point will arrive, and how are you preparing for it?
Huang Chujie: I think it should come soon, within five years. It depends on developments in technology, chips, and compute. AI’s progress in the past two years has exceeded even practitioners’ imaginations. Beyond short dramas, we are preparing interactive dramas. Those require more extensive worlds and storylines than current work, and we may plan toward IP development.
Zhou Zhipeng: I am a little more optimistic than Huang. Current comic dramas and AI short dramas have indeed not changed the business rules. It is still the platform PGC content logic, with AI accelerating the process. But new opportunities will emerge. First, many super-individuals will rise. If interactive film-games become mainstream, the value of the individual within them will far exceed that of the platform. Audiences will pay for an ending or a possible story path, creating entirely new production relationships. Second, I think films and television will persist, but their commercial logic will change. Cinema now uses scheduled screenings. Once supply is sufficiently abundant, going to a cinema may resemble going to an internet café: swipe a card and watch whatever film is in whichever auditorium at any time. I think we could see this around us very soon, this year or next. So I am very optimistic.
Yi Yating: Given that forecast, I know Chushou AI places great importance on its ecosystem. What have you been putting in place?
Zhou Zhipeng: We have always believed that major IP is necessary to realize returns across short dramas, online feature films, cinema, and later interactive games. We have indeed begun moving into online feature films, cinema, and interactive film-games, and works may appear successively this year.
Yang Xiaofeng: Previously, I think only major players with tens of millions or hundreds of millions could participate in this market. AI now lets people who did not previously work in the field enter it, and thousands of companies are involved. As models improve and barriers fall further, I think an era of universal creation will arrive. Just as anyone can sell through livestreaming, anyone will be able to make dramas. Perhaps AI will eventually do all the work while people consume video and games in virtual worlds. The entire business model will change. It may even become possible for an ordinary person to generate 100 million in revenue alone.
Yi Yating: The same follow-up: what is Huanzhou doing in preparation for that forecast?
Yang Xiaofeng: Our current direction is enabling consumer-side super-individuals. With series that run for 100 to 200 minutes, longer content actually generates higher revenue. If individuals can develop their own ideas into long series, there is substantial potential. Our technology and services therefore support the whole chain for individuals, from early screenwriting and production through later distribution.
Yi Yating: Luo, what business-model changes do you think AI brings?
Luo Yuan: My view is similar to Zhou’s and Yang’s. Short dramas will certainly move toward real-time generation with personalized endings, or interactive formats. We may even enter a VR era in which people can experience life as a short-drama protagonist in a digital world and see whether it feels satisfying.
Yi Yating: What preparations are you making now?
Luo Yuan: We are still observing and exploring. For example, we are looking into AI interactive film-games and VR and learning about those areas.