X's Hot Search List - Games & Entertainment:
#10: Miles Faces His Old Demons
#8: Silent Hill vs. Outlast
#6: Gus Harper, King of Terror
#5: Global Games Alliance (hot)
#3: Outlast (hot)
#1: No Sleep Tonight (explosive)
Outlast's launch unleashed a nightmare, dominating six of X's top ten trends. Gus Harper's horror juggernaut buried Komina's Silent Hill. Zoey Parker, president of WindyPeak Games, felt the weight of dread—not from the game, but from her crumbling plan to lose just enough money to cash in on rebates.
Huddled on her Seattle office sofa, blanketed like a burrito, Zoey's face was ashen. X's frenzy overwhelmed her. "It's over," she muttered, glaring at Gus Harper, who scrolled X, snickering at fan posts. How could this sunny, laid-back guy be such a menace? His games were pure terror, his tactics cutthroat. Her dad, Walter Parker, deserved half the blame—scheming with Gus like old foxes, leaving Zoey feeling like a naive bunny. Maybe I'm the odd one out.
She shot Gus a death stare. It was nearly 8 p.m. Pacific time. Time to lock in her strategy. "System," she whispered, summoning the interface in her mind.
Sub-project: Outlast
Investment: $18.15M
Settlement Time: 7 days
Rebate Rate: 100x
Revenue: $0
Estimated Rebate: $1.815B
Settlement Status: Awaiting Launch
The system used dollars for Komina's global showdown. A $1.815 billion rebate dangled before Zoey—yachts, freedom, the works. But Outlast's hype threatened to oversell, ruining her "lose a little" scheme. Priced at $18 per copy, with IndieVibe's 20% and Nebula Entertainment's 30% commission (averaged to 25%), Outlast needed $24.2M—1.35M copies in seven days—to break even.
Titanfall sold 860K copies in two weeks, capped by somatosensory cabin supply. Even at full capacity, it wouldn't hit 1.5M. Outlast hitting 1.35M in one week? Insane, but doable with IndieVibe X2 and Polar Bear III's millions of units. A $150K loss—7K fewer copies—would still net $15M in rebates, like APEX. Zoey's eyes lit up. There's hope.
She nudged Gus with her foot, toes peeking from the blanket like pink petals. "Scoot closer. You're too far."
Gus smirked, sliding to the sofa's edge. "On purpose."
Zoey pouted. "What, you dodging me?"
"Not you," Gus said, patting his side. "My kidneys. They're terrified of your pinches."
Zoey's excited grabs during Phasmophobia's development had left battle scars. With Outlast's launch stream tonight, Gus wasn't risking another bruise. "Horror streams turn you feral," he teased.
Zoey slumped, feigning sadness. "I can't help it."
"You always say that," Gus scoffed, inching away. "Keep it half a meter."
"No way!" Zoey slid next to him, squeezing close.
Gus bolted to the other end. "Nope."
Zoey huffed, then grinned. "I'm from the mountains, Gus! One shot!"
Gus laughed, settling beside her, tucking the blanket around them. "No talk that breaks our vibe, got it?"
Pew's stream roared from the TV.
"Unlocked! Let's dive in!" Pew shouted at 8 p.m. Pacific time. Outlast launched on IndieVibe X2, and Pew, a die-hard user, jumped in. Silent Hill? No thanks. X's chat erupted with fireworks emojis and tips.
"Been waiting forever!"
"Mental hospital, drug tests, hidden truth—chills!"
"What's Gus got cooking?"
"Bet there's chases and parkour!"
"That menu's dark as hell!"
The Outlast title sprawled across a cracked, blood-streaked wall. Wheelchairs, scissors, surgical tools, and a gore-stained corridor cycled in the blurred background. Pew shivered. "This looks rough, folks."
As the somatosensory cabin synced, he set the stage: "We're at Giant Mountain Asylum, Colorado. I'm Miles Upshur, fresh off P.T.. Got an email about shady drug experiments. I verified it—legit. Tonight, I'm sneaking in to expose the truth."
The screen faded to black. A car engine growled, tires crunching gravel. Pew's view opened inside a red jeep, a press card swaying on the rearview mirror: "I'll expose the darkest truths. It's my life's work. —Miles Upshur."
Darkness cloaked the road, the jeep's dim lights barely cutting through. Static hissed from the radio. The bumpy path rattled Pew. "This road's garbage," he griped. A marble sign loomed: Giant Mountain Asylum — Murkoff Group.
A massive, vine-choked building emerged, lit by two flickering lamps. Iron gates blocked the way. Inside, the asylum looked like a crypt. "This ain't a hospital," Pew said. "More like a 1940s sanatorium. Creepy vibes."
The Phoenix Engine's visuals made the asylum pulse with dread. Pew killed the engine. On the passenger seat: a folder with the "truth needs to be revealed" email and a DV camera.
"DV camera, huh?" Pew chuckled. "Gonna catch ghost orbs like Phasmophobia? Where's my EMF reader?"
Unlike Phasmophobia's infinite battery, Outlast's camera needed manual swaps. Pew popped in a battery, flipped open the viewfinder. "Simple. Zoom in, zoom out, and—holy crap!"
Night vision kicked in, bathing the screen in eerie green static. The narrow, grainy view screamed danger. Pew's grin vanished. "Gus, you're evil!"
Zoey, watching, yelped, eyes wide. "Gus, this is twisted!" She saw his trap: pitch-black asylum halls forcing players to rely on night vision. One wrong move, and something—man or mannequin—could jump out. "Limited battery?" she groaned. "Players'll be stuck in the dark!"
Gus nodded, smirking. "Half right. If they don't watch the battery, it dies. And they won't be walking—they'll be running."