Charity Week was electric, and To the Moon was stealing the show. PacificTech's $5M promo blitz kept Outlast under wraps, just as Gus Harper planned. A secret drop was the move—hit Komina hard and watch the charts light up.
WindyPeak Games played it smart, dropping teasers like bombs. First: To the Moon goes pixel-style, echoing Vampire Survivors's retro win that crowned Gus "Supernova." Second: it's a story-driven RPG, gutsy for blocky visuals that don't scream feels. Third: a mystery singer for a custom ending theme. Each post hit X like a shockwave. "Pixel RPG? That's bold!" "WindyPeak's story games are fire!" "A custom song? Insane!" Fans were hooked, banking on WindyPeak's rep for outshining Portal 2 and Catherine in story stakes.
X was a circus. "Zoey's cooking something big!" one user posted. "Pixel romance? I'm in!" "That song's gonna slap!" Another speculated, "Bet it's a tearjerker like Vampire Survivors!" Rivals like Radiant Studios and Zenith Studios fumed. Their Charity Week bundles got no love, while PacificTech hyped WindyPeak nonstop. "Zoey's stealing the spotlight," a Fury Games dev griped on X. "She's got $500K and PacificTech's muscle," another replied. No one could compete.
Zoey Parker was in her zone, scheming like a pro. She locked her Seattle office door at WindyPeak, dodging her team's "Zoey's working, so we're working!" energy. Inside, she pinged outsourcers, shaping To the Moon's pixel art, code, and music. Every tweak felt right—characters sharper, story tighter, emotions heavier. Zoey's pulse raced, not just for the game but the rebates. More sales, more charity cash, more back to her pocket. She smirked, dreaming of the payout.
Evenings at their Tech Tower apartment, Zoey grilled Gus over takeout or in their messy studio. Notebook out, she'd ask, "Gus, memory mechanic good?" Gus, munching pizza, said, "Solid, but speed up the pacing." Done. Zoey scribbled, then snapped a Polaroid—her "work keepsakes." Gus rolled his eyes but humored her, proud of her drive.
February's chill couldn't cool the gaming heat. PacificTech's $5M fueled Charity Week mania. Tate's Gaming Scoop, GameScope, and Gamers' Hearth pushed bundles: Fury Games' "Hot Racing Pack," Radiant Studios' "Gunfire Pack," Zenith Studios' "Classic Collection." But WindyPeak's $500K pixel game, with Zoey's extra support, owned the buzz. PacificTech's clout could make Cat Mario 2 a hit. X posts screamed: "Zoey's game is the one!" "$15 for a pixel gem? Sold!" "PacificTech's playing favorites, and I'm here for it!"
Charity Week hit. 8 p.m., Twitch, Eggplant's stream popped off. "Yo, what's good?" he grinned, waving his Elite controller. Chat went wild: "Eggplant's locked in!" "Zoey's game is lit!" "Story game doesn't need that controller!" "Titanfall's Viper broke him!"
Eggplant opened IndieVibe. A Charity Week pop-up glowed, showing ten studio bundles. At the top: To the Moon's cover—moonlit galaxy, lighthouse beam, two shadowy lovers. "To the Moon? Dating sim?" Eggplant mused. Pixel galgame? Odd—blocky faces didn't vibe with romance. Chat typed: "Pixel love story? Zoey's trolling!" "Looks deep, I'm hyped!"
At $15, like Vampire Survivors, and a few hundred MB, it downloaded fast. Eggplant launched it. For River's piano notes flowed—soft, pure, not like Apex's electric jams. "This is chill," he said, kicking back, controller loose. "No P.T. scares, right?" Chat laughed: "Eggplant's P.T. PTSD!" "Just piano vibes, relax!"
The screen faded in: sea, seagulls, a lighthouse. A villa sat on a mountain, flowers blooming. Two kids played piano inside—the music's source. Bang! A crash outside killed the tune. The kids turned. "Not horror, Zoey!" Eggplant muttered, P.T. flashbacks hitting. Chat cackled: "Eggplant's shook!" "Just a car crash, chill!"
A car smoked by a tree, hood up. "Hits a tree on that road? Worse than Rusty!" Eggplant laughed. Two pixel researchers hopped out: Dr. Rosa Lee and Dr. Neil Watts, Eggplant's character. "I'm driving?!" Chat roasted: "Ban Eggplant from cars!" "Rusty's got competition!" Rosa snapped, "Neil, where do you look when driving?" Neil quipped, "Dodged a squirrel!" Rosa eyed the flattened squirrel. "Nice. Car's still here."
Their job: a memory travel agency, tweaking brains to grant dying folks' wishes. Today's client: villa resident. Eggplant and Rosa hauled gear uphill, knocked. Lily Carter, the nanny, let them in. Her kids played piano below. "Your boss?" Eggplant asked. "Johnny Wyles, upstairs," Lily said, leading to a frail, near-seventy man on a heart monitor. "One or two days left," the doctor said.
Rosa asked, "His wish?" Lily paused. "The moon. He wants to go to the moon."
Eggplant blinked. "Thought this was a love story, and this dude's tryna be an astronaut?!"
Chat went nuts: "Moon?! Zoey's wild!" "No galgame here!" "Johnny's got big dreams!"