"Give and take as deserved. I dig this ending."
Across the ocean, in Seattle—
The office of the chief supervisor of the public utilities department sat on the 32nd floor of the International Data Corporation (IDC) building.
Chief Supervisor Jimmy Lawrence was kicking back, watching Pew's Twitch stream.
Pew, fresh off a life-or-death chase, had just escaped the doctor's clutches!
Not only that—he took the doctor down!
Pew grabbed the key from the duty room and bolted.
He hit the elevator before the doctor could catch up.
Thought the heart-pounding chase was over?
Nope. The doctor took a hidden passage, cutting Pew off on the next floor!
As the elevator passed the second floor, the doctor yanked open the rusty grate and lunged with his scissors.
In the scuffle, the doctor got so caught up he didn't notice the elevator dropping. Swinging his scissors, half his body hung out.
Crunch!
The descending elevator sliced him in half, like giant scissors.
Cause and effect, full circle. Karma's a beast.
The doctor cut Miles' fingers with scissors; Miles cut the doctor's body with an elevator.
This poetic payback made Jimmy nod in approval.
Gotta hand it to 'em.
Outlast might be a horror game built on thrills, but WindyPeak didn't skimp on the story.
Scattered notes and reports, like puzzle pieces.
Cinematic cutscenes dripping with subtext and coincidence.
From Titanfall to PT, then Outlast—
WindyPeak always spun a killer tale their way.
Whether it's Titanfall's "Trial by Fire" or PT's "Hole in the Wall Murder," every scene felt straight out of a movie.
In Jimmy's eyes, WindyPeak's games could hit the big screen with zero script tweaks.
The storyboards, dialogue, structure, pacing—all had that blockbuster vibe.
Knock knock knock—
A rap at the office door.
"Come in."
Jimmy didn't kill the stream, just leaned back in his cushy chair and glanced over.
An orange-haired assistant popped in:
"Director Lawrence, Mr. Brown's here."
"Cool, send him in." Jimmy waved her on.
A curly-haired guy in a T-shirt, leather jacket, and overalls strolled in, chewing gum.
Will Brown.
Head of United Business Media (UBM)'s joint development department, about Jimmy's age—mid-thirties.
"Coffee, thanks."
Will shot a flirty grin at the assistant, then sauntered into Jimmy's office, peeking at the screen:
"Yo, Jimmy! Slacking on Twitch during work? Busted!"
"It's my job," Jimmy said, cool as ice, hands behind his head. "You're the one slacking, swinging by for free coffee. Your company tanking or what?"
"Haha, funny you mention that," Will chuckled, plopping down beside Jimmy. "I'm here for work too."
"Then let's talk shop!" Jimmy stretched, took the coffee from the assistant, and nodded thanks. "You drop the invite list yet?"
"Pretty much. Same old, same old," Will said, nodding.
"What about you? Venue locked in?"
"Do I even need to pick?" Jimmy shrugged. "Same as always. Press conference online, offline meet-up at the Los Angeles Convention Center."
"So, business as usual?" Will sipped his coffee. "Same spot, same setup, same guests, all by the book."
"Maybe not," Jimmy cut in.
"Not?" Will raised an eyebrow. "What's cooking?"
"Not my idea," Jimmy said, shaking his head. "Who's on the invite list from Asia this time?"
"The usual suspects, you know," Will said, shrugging. "Radiant Studios, Zenith Studios, Fury Games, and one open slot we're still hashing out."
"Forget hashing," Jimmy said, waving it off. "Give that slot to WindyPeak."
"WindyPeak? You mean the WindyPeak we talked about?" Will smacked his lips, awkward. "But their market cap's not even 200 mil…"
"Whoa, Brown, my man," Jimmy frowned, leaning in. "Since when do you care about company size? WindyPeak's shaking up the game industry—doesn't that earn them a seat?"
"Hey, don't pin that on me," Will said, hands up. "If I made the list, half these companies wouldn't even be here."
"But you know UBM's rules."
"Then break 'em!" Jimmy gestured, urging Will to loosen up. "WindyPeak's all about breaking molds. Why should we stick to inviting just the big dogs?"
"After all—"
"Our conference is the Worldwide Game Developers Conference."
"Not some elite game mogul mixer!"
Boom!
The "conference" Jimmy and Will were chewing over? The annual Worldwide Game Developers Conference (GDC).
The Global Game Developers Conference, or GDC, is the biggest, most influential gaming industry event out there.
A hub for developers to swap ideas, learn, spark inspiration, and network.
A meeting ground for programmers, artists, sound designers, planners—everyone shaping the industry's future.
Hosted by IDC (Jimmy's crew) and UBM (Will's outfit).
With just over a month until the event, it was time to notify invited studios and drop the guest list.
"You said it yourself, Will—there's an open slot for Asia," Jimmy pressed. "If it was full, I wouldn't push. But since it's open, why not give WindyPeak a shot?"
"You know their track record—PUBG, Titanfall, PT."
"They've got platforms and folks giving 'em a chance to shine, and they keep delivering bangers."
"Now, with GDC getting stale, we need fresh blood."
"Like, say—" Jimmy grinned, "The Future of Cinematic Games: Trends and Techniques."
"Sounds dope, right?"
Hiss—!!!
Will's eyes lit up!
"Is that… WindyPeak's pitch for a talk?"
"Nah, just me spitballing," Jimmy laughed. "I don't know anyone at WindyPeak, and they don't know me. Why would they send me a topic? I just… saw this."
He pointed at his screen.
"See? I'm working," Jimmy said, smirking.
"Uh—" Will glanced at the stream, mulling over Jimmy's pitch.
Jimmy's words sparked a memory—WindyPeak's collab with Legendary Pictures on Titanfall.
No one was better suited for that cinematic games talk than WindyPeak.
And!
With somatosensory cabins blurring the line between movies and games, this was the moment.
Will turned to the screen, joining Jimmy to "work."
…
Lightning cracked, thunder roared, winds howled, rain poured.
Pew stood outside Giant Mountain Psych Hospital's inpatient wing, soaked and battered.
When the doctor offered a "stroll" outside, Pew thought freedom was close and nodded like crazy.
Now, standing in the storm, he wished he'd stayed inside.
"Man… this is…"
"Too damn dark!!!"
Couldn't see a thing!
Winds biting, rain hammering!
This was the hospital's back garden.
Per Father Martin's tip, Pew had to cross it to reach the church.
The priest had some cryptic ritual planned, needing Pew as a "witness," promising a way out.
Supernatural vibes.
But what choice did he have?
Taking a deep breath, Pew stepped out.
In the downpour, the DV's view got murkier, shallower.
Only lightning flashes lit the path ahead.
Pushing through dense bushes, Pew found the church door.
Locked. Chained. Needed a key.
Which meant trekking through the garden to the tool shed on the other side.
Cursing Gus Harper as the king of torture, Pew trudged forward, heavy-footed.
Rumble—Crack—
Rain pounded, lightning flared.
Pew gripped the DV, using lightning's glow to scope the garden at the corridor's end.
Not a soul in sight.
Step… step… step…
Wet footsteps echoed, unnerving, on the corridor floor.
Nearing the garden.
Then—
Whoosh—Boom—Crack!!!
Lightning tore across the sky!
And in that split second!
A dark figure appeared in Pew's DV!
Like a looming deity or silent specter, hovering in the garden at the corridor's end!
A mass of black mist wrapped around a skeletal frame.
No legs—just a phantom floating in the air. Its eye sockets glowed with flickering green light, locked on Pew.
"Holy—WHAT THE—!!!"
Pew's scalp tingled, hair standing on end!
The shadow drifted toward him—he bolted!!!
Screaming questions as he ran!
"This is a mental hospital, right?!"
"What's with the floating ghost?!"
"This ain't scientific! Without the night vision DV, I wouldn't even see it… Wait!!!"
As Pew dodged the shadow and unlocked the church door with the key—
A lightbulb went off!
Science… shadows… invisible to the naked eye…
Hiss—!!!
It clicked!
All the scattered clues—notes, reports—snapped together.
Pew's spine chilled!
"That's… Walrider!!!"
No wonder the Murkoff Corporation was pouring millions into this project!
Seeing the Walrider in action, their motives started to surface!
"Damn! Damn!!!"
Pew couldn't believe his own logic!
Couldn't believe Outlast's wild concept!
"The Murkoff Corporation's straight-up making ghosts!!!"
The pressure hit!
From that moment—
Walrider, a shadowy specter, stalked Pew relentlessly!
Unlike any enemy before—
It was invisible under normal light!
Cranking the difficulty and fear to eleven!
Worse—
On the climb to the church's top, per the plot, Miles fumbled his DV!
Players watched their lifeline roll from the third floor to the second, then slip through a gap to the first!
So!
Players had to brave crushing pressure, groping through the dark to the first floor, dodging Walrider's attacks, scrambling for their precious DV!
The whole way—
Players' curses lit up!
Gus Harper probably never got roasted by so many people at once!
Every stream was a riot—pure chaos, Cybertron-level trash talk!
Players slung every curse they knew at Gus!
But finally—
After all the heart-stopping twists—
Players reached the chapel at the church's peak.
And there—
Father Martin, a shady mix of good and evil, hung himself on a cross…