There was no dramatic descent of a curtain as players had imagined. As the hidden non-nuclear ending of Metal Gear Solid: Phantom Pain came to an end, the screen did not fade to black. Instead, a brand-new cutscene began.
White text slowly appeared against a dark background in the center of the monitor, "After the end of the Second World War, the world was divided into East and West. Thus began the era of the Cold War."
Images flashed by rapidly. A younger BIGBOSS. No, at this point, he should still be called Naked Snake. Both of his eyes remained intact.
A mysterious woman overflowing with charm embraced Naked Snake.
A towering Metal Gear machine, even larger than Sahelanthropus from Metal Gear Solid: Phantom Pain.
A motorcycle is racing at an impossible speed across a bridge stretching over the sea.
Scene after scene flashed by like fragments of a forgotten memory.
Until finally, everything froze upon an endless white sea of flowers, and Naked Snake stood silently among them. Then, a sharp whistle split the air. Missiles.
Moments later, a violent explosion erupted in the distance. Fire surged skyward alongside massive pillars of black smoke.
Shocked, Naked Snake quickly turned toward the devastation. Then, a woman's voice echoed behind him. "Beautiful, isn't it? This is how life ends. And beauty... is often tragic."
Naked Snake slowly turned, standing behind him was THE BOSS. Dressed in a black trench coat, quietly watching the distant horizon.
"When life reaches its final moment... It gives off its sweetest aroma. For those approaching the end... Light is merely darkness's final gift. I've waited a long time, Snake... Waited for your birth. Waited for your growth. Waited... for this very day."
Naked Snake stared at the familiar figure before him and confusion filled his eyes. "Boss... Why are you doing this?"
THE BOSS slowly turned. "Why?"
The screen lingered on her expression.
At that exact moment, Yan, sitting in front of his computer alongside countless other players around the world, felt his heart pounding. The truth. The mystery. The answer everyone had been waiting for.
And then, the screen cut to black. Abruptly. Cruelly.
A single line of text appeared, "DLC - Snake Eater. Coming Soon"
"..."
"?????"
(╯‵□′)╯︵┻━┻
The entire playerbase exploded. Gone? Just like that? At the most critical moment? WHY?! Players stared at the credits rolling across the screen, and their minds were completely shattered.
A hidden ending. A DLC announcement. This should have been the ultimate surprise. Something exciting enough to keep players awake all night. So why, why did they suddenly feel an overwhelming urge to grab a weapon and storm PixelPioneers Games?
Countless players sat frozen before their monitors. Silent. Broken. Disbelieving. Was there really a developer cruel enough to leave players hanging like this? If you wanted to make an incredible CG animation, fine. If you wanted to tease future content, fine. But showing the mystery, then cutting away before revealing the answer? That was psychological warfare.
The internet exploded. Discussion threads about the hidden ending of Metal Gear Solid: Phantom Pain and the upcoming Snake Eater DLC flooded gaming communities.
Compared to local audiences, overseas players discussed it even more intensely. Partly because Metal Gear Solid: Phantom Pain leaned heavily toward Western cinematic presentation and realistic character design.
But more importantly, the game's themes. War. Deterrence. Language as a weapon. The vocal parasites. The illusion of peace. Every element invited endless debate.
One player wrote: "This hidden ending feels intentionally utopian. Nuclear weapons are scary, but they're also why nations hesitate before starting wars. Without them, conflict might become even more common."
Another replied: "I think PixelPioneers wanted to say exactly that. A world without nuclear weapons sounds beautiful, but reality doesn't work that way. Even in-game, it couldn't truly happen."
Others discussed Diamond Dogs.
"The patrol scenes felt symbolic. If you want a world without war, maybe strength itself becomes necessary. Violence stopping violence."
Another player commented: "Utopia or not... seeing Quiet alive made me feel better. Diamond Dogs still exists. Miller is still there. They're still fighting for their ideals beside their Boss."
Discussion spread endlessly. The hidden ending. The meaning behind it. The future DLC. And the unanswered mysteries.
Meanwhile, inside Ansoft headquarters.
Hirobumi stared silently at the screen. Metal Gear Solid: Phantom Pain remained open before him. The hidden non-nuclear ending. The specially edited Snake Eater teaser. Everything replayed repeatedly in his mind.
"Tying DLC promotion directly to a hidden ending..." Hirobumi muttered quietly. "Was this intentional?"
Initially, he believed PixelPioneers Games' online functionality had merely been an extra feature. Nothing revolutionary. Nothing explosive. But now, he realized he had underestimated them.
Locking DLC promotion behind an almost impossible hidden ending trigger, it was absurd. Dangerously absurd. If players hadn't discovered methods to reach it, nobody would have seen the teaser. Nobody would have discussed it. Nobody would even know the DLC existed.
Wouldn't traditional marketing work better? Reveal the hidden ending earlier. Build hype. Then announce Snake Eater. Wouldn't that create greater publicity? He couldn't understand it. No matter how much he thought about it, he simply couldn't understand PixelPioneers Games.
But regardless of whether Ansoft understood it or how players felt about the hidden ending, John had already temporarily shifted his focus away from Metal Gear. The Snake Eater DLC storyline. The unfinished flies content.
Everything had already been completed, and early-stage art production had entered a stable phase. Luna had also become deeply involved with pacing adjustments and narrative direction.
For now, John had something else to focus on. VR and Warwick.
VR development was a dangerous gamble, even with PixelPioneers Games' current financial strength; failure would be devastating. One mistake and everything could collapse.
John believed in himself. Believed in the memories of games from another world. Believed that even failure wouldn't destroy him. But leadership changed things.
He couldn't think only about himself anymore; there were employees. Teams and people depend on him. Responsibility, that weight now rested squarely upon his shoulders.
Still, before beginning his next project, there remained one final decision. Two files sat open on his computer.
One carried the title: Yu-Gi-Oh!
The other: Pokémon.
Both represented incredible possibilities, and neither was inherently superior. Different genres, different audiences, and different futures.
But for negotiating with Warwick, John slowly narrowed his eyes. Then, his cursor stopped and locked onto one document. A decision had finally been made.