Chapter 3: The First Reaction
Three days passed.
Not much had changed around Ash's flat. The fan still clicked softly, the tea still boiled over if he forgot it, and the sound of street vendors still floated up from the road around 11 a.m. But inside the room, something felt different.
There was a low hum under his skin, a quiet anticipation.
He kept checking fiberO like a kid waiting for exam results. On the third morning, as he sat with his second cup of tea and a slice of stale bread, the first notification arrived.
[Delivery Received – $10 Project]
He opened it immediately.
The file was small. Just 48 MB. A zipped folder named "SuperJumpGuy.rar."
Ash chuckled.
He extracted the files and clicked the executable. The screen turned black for a moment before loading a title screen with blinking text: "Super Jump Guy: Made With Love (And Budget Limits)."
The game opened in a tiny window. A pixelated man—more square than human—stood on a flat line of bricks. There was no music, just the soft sound of footsteps as Ash moved the character forward.
The level design was basic. Jumping across small gaps, dodging floating spikes, collecting coins that did nothing.
But then—at the very end—something happened.
A giant banana appeared from the sky and screamed.
"PEEL THE TRUTH!"
Ash stared at the screen, eyebrows raised.
The banana turned into a boss fight. The music kicked in—badly compressed techno—and the player had to dodge banana peels and random flying toasters.
It was ridiculous. Glitchy. But somehow... charming.
He leaned back in his chair, smiling.
Not bad for $10.
He opened the recording software and enabled the system's voice modulator. His voice, now slightly smoother and deeper, came through the test playback.
He hit record.
"Alright. First up, we have 'Super Jump Guy.' A game that feels like it was coded in a dream. Or a nightmare. Probably both."
He played through it again, this time reacting out loud. Sarcastic comments, awkward silences, genuine laughter.
When he beat the banana boss again, he said:
"I don't know what moral I was supposed to learn from this... but I feel like a better person."
Recording done.
He paused the software and saved the file.
[Video Clip Saved: Segment_1_SuperJumpGuy]
No errors. No crashes. The system seemed to handle everything quietly in the background—organizing files, adjusting sound levels, even generating subtitles in real time.
That was when the second notification pinged.
[Delivery Received – $100 Project]
Ash quickly downloaded the files. This game was 220 MB. He booted it up.
Title: "Shadow Steps"
The loading screen had dynamic lighting. The character—a cloaked figure—moved with smooth animations across rooftops. Background music set a moody tone. The level design was tighter. Ash had to use precise jumps, wall climbs, and timed dashes to escape shadowy enemies.
Midway through, there was even a short cutscene—a silent, black-and-white flashback.
Ash sat up straighter.
"This... is actually impressive."
He played through the full 5-minute game, dying twice, and finishing with a small digital explosion and a line of glowing text:
"Even shadows leave footprints."
He exhaled slowly.
He liked that.
Back to the recorder.
"Okay. This one surprised me. For a $100 game, I expected some bugs, maybe some rushed art. But this—this has atmosphere. A story. And I think I feel... emotions?"
He paused the recording again and saved the clip.
[Video Clip Saved: Segment_2_ShadowSteps]
Outside, rain had started to tap lightly against the windows.
He got up to make fresh tea, letting the moment settle. The light inside the flat dimmed as clouds rolled in. Everything felt calm. Just the kind of mood he liked—gray sky, warm tea, and a soft focus on work.
As he sipped the steaming cup, the third notification appeared.
[Delivery Received – $1000 Project]
Ash sat down slowly.
The file size was over 1 GB. It came with extra folders: "Music," "Concept Art," and "MakingOf_Doc.txt"
He opened the main game.
Title: "ChronoFall: Lost Time"
Even the intro felt cinematic. A floating city, gears turning in the sky, orchestral music fading in. The protagonist—an animated character with voice lines—narrated a monologue about rewriting fate.
Ash didn't even press record. He just watched.
The game featured three levels with different time mechanics. Rewinding puzzles, pausing hazards, and fast-forwarding enemy attacks. The backgrounds changed as time passed—buildings crumbled, sunlight turned to dusk.
There was a real story here.
When the final scene played—a moment where the player had to choose between saving a stranger or fixing the timeline—Ash just sat there, hands on his lap, quietly impressed.
This wasn't just a freelance project. It was art.
He took a breath and launched the recording again.
"Okay. So I've been humbled. This is... on another level. The voice acting? The time mechanics? The emotional choices? I feel like I paid a thousand dollars for therapy."
He chuckled softly.
"And I don't know if I won the game or if the game won me."
He saved the final clip.
[Video Clip Saved: Segment_3_ChronoFall]
He leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling.
He had all three reactions now. The structure was set. All that remained was editing, trimming, background music, transitions, and rendering the final cut.
But for now, he just let himself rest.
The video wasn't even published yet, and no one in the world knew what he had done today.
But still... he felt a little lighter.
As if making something—something weird and funny and creative—had opened a window in his chest and let the air move again.
Tomorrow, he would edit. Then upload.
And maybe—just maybe—someone would watch.
End of Chapter 3