In the conference room, John sat at the head of the long table, his expression calm yet focused as he faced Koch and the rest of the creative team. The faint hum of the air conditioner blended with the quiet rustling of notebooks and tablets, creating a subtle background of concentration.
"This will be a completely original world," John began, his tone measured but firm. "We don't need to obsess over every political detail or how the war began. What truly matters is motive; did nations start this conflict out of ambition, desperation, or greed? Were they trying to shift the burden of economic collapse by seizing others' resources? Whether the war is born of desire or necessity, our goal is to make players feel the story of war itself."
He paused briefly, scanning the room before continuing, "The overarching narrative will be mine to structure, but the broader military campaigns, the strategy, and war-level design, will be in all of your hands," he said, locking eyes with Koch.
Koch hesitated before speaking. "President John… won't some countries ban the game because of this theme?"
John smiled faintly. "Red Alert faced no such problem, since it had no plot, no heroes or villains. But once you introduce a story, conflict and shades of morality are inevitable."
Koch nodded, still looking uneasy.
"When we move to the global version later," John added, "we'll make adjustments if needed. For now, the local release shouldn't face any issues. Let's focus on that first."
Much of his creative vision stemmed from dreamlike fragments stored in his memory. Yet, John knew he needed to adapt those ideas to modern realism. Simply copying what he'd seen in those dreams, wars from another timeline, for example, wouldn't work here. His story had to fit their world.
"Contact HR," John instructed Koch. "Invite a few historians from the Department of History. I want them as consultants."
His knowledge of World War II was extensive, almost flawless, yet even a perfect memory could drift from reality. Some small but vital details remained unclear. Experts would help fill those gaps, ensuring their alternate world felt grounded in history. It wasn't about creating a perfect replica of real events; it was about building a world that felt authentic, one free of glaring contradictions, convincing enough to make players believe it could have been real.
"This will be a massive project," John said after a pause. "Not something we can finish overnight."
Still, with Red Alert, they didn't need to start with overwhelming detail. A strong concept would suffice; the rest could develop naturally through later expansions and DLCs.
"There will be multiple storylines," he continued. "The first begins with Germany launching a blitzkrieg against Poland. Players will control Germany, leading armies in a campaign of expansion and conquest. That's our primary thread."
He leaned forward, voice lowering slightly. "But there's another, one far beyond history. In a parallel future, civilization has been wiped out by nuclear war. The few survivors take refuge underground, struggling to endure. As resources dwindle, they create a time machine powered by the last remnants of AI technology. Their mission: send troopers back to the start of World War II, joining Poland's resistance to change humanity's fate."
John's gaze sharpened. "But the catch is, they only arrive in one of countless parallel worlds. The wasteland's end cannot be undone. The act of time travel fractures reality itself."
He let the words hang before adding, "From that moment, infinite parallel timelines branch out. And the Metal Gear storyline I mentioned on the official blog? It takes place in one of those branches."
The room fell silent. Koch and the others exchanged stunned looks, their minds already racing. Parallel worlds. Nuclear wastelands. Time travel, was this turning into a science-fiction war? Was John building an entire interconnected universe, a vast IP that could rival The Elder Scrolls: Skyrim in scope?
Koch's pulse quickened with excitement. The concept was bold, ambitious, and brilliantly so. Even if it seemed impossible, John's vision alone was electric.
"Of course," John said after a brief pause, "we still need players to understand that the wars aren't caused by nations themselves."
Although the story wouldn't explicitly name real countries, he knew players would inevitably draw parallels. Human imagination had a way of filling in the blanks. To guide that imagination, John planned to introduce two ideological factions, neither tied to any nation or people, but to belief itself.
"In the earliest days of civilization, long before records, there existed two forces," John explained, his voice deepening with the rhythm of a storyteller. "One sought to build a 'perfect world' and would do anything to achieve it, manipulating events from behind the scenes. The other, a hidden order, believed in free will and fought against such control."
He turned back to Koch. "This won't be the focus of the first game, but we'll plant the seeds. Perhaps one day, we'll develop a separate series to tell the full story of these opposing ideologies."
This grand vision drew from fragments of his dreamlike inspirations, worlds that blended war, philosophy, and technology. Ideas too vast to fit into a single game, yet perfect for expansion into a sprawling, interconnected universe.
While legal and copyright issues had limited such creations in his dreams, here, nothing stood in his way. For now, these ideas would remain internal, a foundation for future projects.
In Metal Gear, John would hide subtle clues, secret "items," cryptic side missions, and buried connections waiting to be uncovered. When the time came, he would tie them all together with masterful precision.
Until then, every story would stand on its own, each a separate world in the grand tapestry of his imagination.