"Alright, everyone's here. Let's start the meeting."
With Jake Rivers and Luke Bennett seated, Gus Harper clapped his hands to kick things off.
Today's meeting is small.
Zoey Parker and Gus Harper, the two presidents.
Luke Bennett and Jake Rivers, deputy directors.
Plus Jonas Young and Kenji Sato, heads of Gold Experience and Steel Chain Fingers studios.
And chief secretary Chloe Quinn.
WindyPeak's core execs, all in one room.
"Today's about the company's upgrade," Gus said.
Everyone exchanged puzzled glances.
"Upgrade?" Jonas asked. "Another hiring spree?"
"Nope," Gus grinned, waving it off. "We just kicked off dual-core operations. Need time to stabilize. Expansion comes after your studios are rock-solid."
Relief washed over the room. Overthinking it, huh?
Makes sense. The studios are new—Steel Chain Fingers barely has one small game under its belt. Opening a third studio now? Too risky.
Even Gus wouldn't be that reckless.
"So, what's the upgrade?" Jonas pressed.
"The Billion Club," Gus said, clenching his fist. "By next quarter, our disposable net assets will hit around $980 million."
Gasp!
The room froze.
Last tally, post-APEX, was $650 million.
Now, after To the Moon, Outlast, Plants vs. Zombies, and A Way Out, assets have surged by over $300 million, nearing the billion-dollar mark!
To the Moon was pure charity—no profit, just prestige.
Outlast and A Way Out burned cash like crazy.
Plus, absorbing Steel Chain Fingers.
Despite the heavy spending, WindyPeak's assets are skyrocketing.
Proof of Gus's genius and the company's red-hot momentum.
"So, by mid-next quarter, we'll be a medium-sized game company!" Luke nodded, grinning ear-to-ear. "From $500K to $1B in three years, no outside help! Damn!"
Gus glanced at Zoey, smirking: "Gotta thank Zoey for giving me room to work my magic."
Zoey raised an eyebrow, grinning back: "If this guy didn't nerf my hacks, we'd already be there."
"Yep," Gus nodded. "Good news: we'll hit medium-sized status by mid-next quarter."
No official badge for this upgrade.
$1 billion in disposable assets is the industry's unofficial line.
Cross it, you're a medium-sized game company—a long-standing convention, now a hard standard.
Global game expos, summits, and awards tie perks to company size, unlike Gus's past life.
To snag prime spots at world-class expos, WindyPeak needs to scale up.
"Good news?" Kenji caught the phrase, sharp as ever. "So, Mr. Harper, what's the bad news?"
Kenji's quick—picked up English fast since moving to the U.S., catching nuances despite his accent.
Snap.
Gus snapped his fingers. "Bad news: registration for this year's EastCon Game Fest closes at the end of this quarter. Organizers will set booth layouts based on submitted games."
Hiss—!
Hearts skipped.
Everyone knew WindyPeak's feud with Nebula Games wasn't over.
But planning another showdown at EastCon, just six months after the last? Bold.
Nerve-wracking, but bold.
Then again, Gus has the track record.
Outlast crushed Nebula. Plants vs. Zombies sparked a global craze. A Way Out nabbed a GDC award.
Their post-EastCon streak?
Qualified? They're overqualified.
Small company, three massive hits, Plants vs. Zombies breaking out globally.
Reputation? Influence? They've got it to challenge Nebula again.
But!
"Nebula's the top dog in Japan, even the Eastern Hemisphere, with pull at EastCon," Gus said. "If we show up as a small company, our booth'll be worse than that sad setup at StarVibe's media event."
Everyone nodded, especially Luke and Jake.
That tiny, drafty corner booth—three of them shivering like street vendors, waiting for Titanfall to catch fire.
Jonas and Kenji, latecomers, missed it but heard the tales.
Now, WindyPeak's a different beast.
No way they're playing minion at EastCon again.
"We need to hit the Billion Club and go public as a medium-sized studio before registration," Gus said, looking at Kenji. "At EastCon, booth size ties to company scale, right?"
"Correct, Mr. Harper," Kenji nodded. "Not just EastCon—other top expos allocate resources by size. Except in the U.S., where StarVibe would likely hook us up with a bigger booth."
"But abroad…" Kenji shook his head.
Regional bias. Standard stuff.
Kenji's right. In the U.S., WindyPeak wouldn't sweat scale. In Japan, Nebula's booth is always the biggest, prime real estate, T0-tier. Even CloudWeave Vivendi gets sidelined.
One of a kind.
"Tricky," Luke said, arms crossed, frowning. "Nebula's got regional clout, influence, and a grudge against us. As a small company…"
"They'd stick our booth in freaking Alaska," he quipped.
Pfft—
Laughter broke the tension.
"Nice," Gus chuckled. "We'll host our own expo in Alaska."
Laughter died down.
Gus got serious: "So, we must hit medium-sized status and announce it publicly."
Only then, with scale and global rep, can Nebula be forced to play fair.
"Maybe not the best booth," Gus said, "but at least one up to standard."
"Otherwise, it's suicide," Kenji added. "Nebula might want to screw us, but organizers won't let them tank EastCon's rep."
One of the four major global expos can't afford to look petty over a WindyPeak-Nebula spat.
They need that $1 billion before the quarter ends.
"That's $20 million more in profit," Luke said. "Events? Game promos?"
"Nope," Chloe shook her head. "This quarter's a protected window for new U.S. game releases. No platform or studio runs promos to ensure sales and hype."
"Oh, right," Luke smacked his forehead. "Forgot."
"What about new APEX or PUBG events?" Jake suggested.
"No," Gus said. "Those are our cash cows. Event and update schedules are locked yearly—can't mess with 'em."
Silence fell.
Jonas spoke up: "Then… new game?"
He looked at Gus. "A Way Out and Plants vs. Zombies are wrapping up. Per your plan, to take on Nebula, we need a masterstroke. With two studios, one can focus on a main project for stability, the other can rush a small game to snag $20 million by next quarter."
One quarter.
Even with profit momentum, $20 million's a tall order.
Lucky for them, this world's game dev is fast, and Gus has his system.
Otherwise, forget $20 million—$200K would be a stretch. In his past life, three months wouldn't cut it for a game.
Even here, it's no cakewalk.
"So…" Gus scanned the room. "Any ideas?"
Everyone fell into thought.
…
Meanwhile, Zoey, at the head of the table, frowned, scheming.
Her chance!
A new project!
For WindyPeak, it's a new game.
For her? A chance to lose big!
She's got Plants vs. Zombies and A Way Out—main projects.
A Way Out's profits aren't settled yet, but players cursing while buying? It's a hit.
Two main projects, two sub-project slots open.
Time to tank one!
Zoey cleared her throat: "How about starting with recent hot projects?"
Oh?
All eyes turned to her.
At WindyPeak, Zoey's quiet in meetings, often seen as a mascot.
But her legend lives on!
Her rare words sparked Vampire Survivor and Titanfall's global rise.
Zoey pitched pixel-style random drops, birthing "vampire-like" games.
Zoey bet on mecha FPS, leading to Titanfall.
Some call her a slacker, but never weak.
Now, she speaks, and everyone leans in.
Gus nodded: "Hot projects? Like…?"
"Like… escaping?" Zoey ventured.
Whoa!
Everyone froze.
No way! A Way Out dropped three days ago, and she's pitching a sequel?
But then!
Jonas got it: "Ms. Parker means… derivatives?"
Nods all around.
Oh, that's it!
Smart move—ride the hype with a spinoff.
But Gus shook his head. "Not ideal."
He's got a derivative in mind, but the timing's off.
Too short to pull it off in one quarter.
No game, no profit.
"The A Way Out ending's raw," Gus said. "Players need time to cool off. Escape themes aren't the play right now."
Pfft—
Zoey cursed Gus internally.
Damn crook, tanking her money-losing plan!
Her system's 100x rebate is screaming!
A failed A Way Out spinoff could mean financial freedom—Billion Club, maybe Hundred-Billion!
But the execs nodded, so Zoey bit her tongue.
Can't push too hard or Gus might sniff out her money-losing system, and it'd self-destruct.
Fine!
Escape's on hold.
She's got another card.
"What about Plants vs. Zombies?" Zoey asked.
Plants vs. Zombies's 15x rebate isn't as juicy as A Way Out's 100x, but it's better than the standard 10x.
Problem is, Plants vs. Zombies's too popular—losing money's tough.
The audience is massive…
"Plants vs. Zombies could work," Gus said. "A spinoff's worth a shot."
Hell yeah!
Zoey nearly grinned, then paused.
Wait. He agreed that fast? Something's fishy.
No trap from Gus—just his system sparking inspiration from Zoey's Plants vs. Zombies pitch.
"FPS is our wheelhouse," Gus said. "With a tight deadline and heavy workload, let's lean into what we're best at, mix in a hot IP like Ms. Parker said, and make a derivative."
Huh?
Everyone blinked.
Plants vs. Zombies… and shooting?
Tower defense meets FPS?
How do you even blend those?
"I don't follow, Mr. Harper," Jonas said, frowning. "You mean players in the IndieVibe X2 plant peas and fight zombies with plants?"
Defensive shooters exist—think Super Cop or Beach Landing—but those are old PC games, not somatosensory cabin fare.
Not what Gus meant.
"Nope," Gus shook his head. "I want players as Peashooters or Sunflowers. Or maybe Zombie Dancers."
What the—?!
Jaws dropped.
Broken!
Gus has lost it!
He's not just cutting fingers or flipping genders like in Outlast.
He's turning players into plants or zombies!
Jonas's scalp tingled, picturing himself as a Sunflower bobbing happily in-game.
What kind of game is this?!
Kenji as a Peashooter, Jake as Torchwood.
Jonas grunts sunlight, feeding Kenji, who spits peas over Jake's flaming head…
Fighting zombie opponents in a garden?
Insanity!
"This…" Jonas stammered. "Won't players hate being Peashooters?"
Fantasy games add tails or wings, but stay human.
This? Straight-up vegetables!
Vegetative state, literally!
"Fun, right?" Gus grinned. "Head's a pea pod, mouth shoots peas, hands are leaves, running on roots. Each plant or zombie has unique skills. Garden battles, offense and defense—hilarious!"
Whoa—
Chloe, beside Zoey, felt a familiar dread.
That same vibe from Gus's Cat Leo or Who is the Father.
Confusion beyond words!
A plea for crowdfunding to save Gus!
A suspicion he's laundering money, not making games!
It's back!
Chloe wanted to yell: If this dumb game sells, I'll wash my hair upside down!
Who makes players plants?!
Running plants!
Spiritual pollution!
Imagine streets full of Sunflowers and Peashooters—terrifying!
The pitch silenced the room!
Only Zoey buzzed with energy.
Yes!
What a gloriously stupid game!
Gus nailed it!
This spinoff ditches PC and mobile markets for the IndieVibe X2, turning players into vegetables!
This… how much money will she lose?!
Gus, seeing the stunned faces, was puzzled.
What's wrong?
Fighting as plants isn't fun?
Of course!
Fun's one part.
More crucially, this casual shooter tests a skill-based FPS on small maps.
Gus plans to downplay modes like team deathmatch or bomb defusal, focusing on Stronghold Occupation and Target Escort.
Push the cart!
Capture the point!
Sure, Plants vs. Zombies: Garden Warfare is a stepping stone to the Billion Club and their Nebula showdown.
But it's also Gus's market test.
Will players dig faster-paced modes like point capture or cart-pushing, with tight team play?
APEX and PUBG are cash machines.
Massively multiplayer competitive games are WindyPeak's future.
Their next big hit needs a trailblazer.
Garden Warfare is it.
Gus doesn't expect much—just $20 million profit.
Mainly, he's testing if players vibe with new, intense modes.
"What do you think?" Zoey asked, raising her hand. "I'm in."
Nice.
Gus nearly laughed. Zoey, daughter of Walter Parker, is no slouch.
As president, her vote carries weight.
Luke and Jake exchanged glances, grinning.
They've seen weirder—like Who is the Father. No sweat. Hands up.
Chloe, sure the game's a flop (maybe half the $20 million, riding Plants vs. Zombies's hype), raised her hand since Zoey did.
Jonas and Kenji, industry vets, hesitated. Turning players into plants? Dumb.
But with everyone on board, they sighed and raised hands.
Not exactly thrilled.
A killer IP, now a risky spinoff.
Jonas, annoyed yet amused, grumbled internally.
No biggie—it's Steel Chain Fingers' project, not Gold Experience's…
"Jonas, Gold Experience is running this," Gus said.
What?!
Jonas's brain knotted.
"You said what?" he blinked at Gus's smile.
"Gold Experience handles this project, tentatively Garden Warfare," Gus said. "It's a Plants vs. Zombies spinoff, but FPS at heart. Your team's got the experience."
Gold Experience, built on PUBG, has the FPS chops.
Jonas stammered, no rebuttal.
Gus was right—FPS is their turf.
Seeing Jonas's face redden, Gus waved it off: "No pressure. Garden Warfare's budget won't be huge. Just enough to hit the Billion Club."
"Right," Zoey chimed in. "No stress, Jonas. Play it normal. We don't need a blockbuster."
Just lose money on time, she thought.
Even if it tanks, she's got cash to cover the $20 million.
"Alright… fine," Jonas nodded, resigned.
But then!
Gus added: "Oh, and Jonas, I need to borrow some Gold Experience folks for Steel Chain Fingers."
Pfft—
Jonas nearly choked.
Bro, I'm calling you dad! Why poach my team?
"Mr. Harper," Jonas said, strained. "Both studios are stretched thin. Why pull my people?"
Gus raised a hand: "Temporary transfer. Not just Gold Experience—Luke, Jake, and I are joining Steel Chain Fingers too."
Hiss—!
Jonas and Kenji gasped.
Jackpot!
"Sorry, Mr. Harper," Kenji said, rattled. "We're… what?"
"Prepping for EastCon," Gus said, dead serious.
Whoosh!
The room turned grave.
This is WindyPeak's biggest move, the year's main event!
Their first shot at a top-four global expo, facing Nebula, the Eastern Hemisphere giant, right out the gate!
They'd discussed it before—their beef with Nebula is far from over.
But facing that titan, away from home, with no game to win?
Outlast 2? Not enough.
To beat Nebula, they need a Titanfall-level banger, or a 3S-tier monster with bigger bucks.
Only then can they stand toe-to-toe.
Last time, they outsmarted Nebula's Yamamoto Studio with strategy.
This time, it's head-on, on Nebula's turf.
How do you break through?
How do you refuse to be a minion?
No one knew.
Trust Gus.
"Jonas, remember the upgraded 'MotionSync' system we built for APEX?" Gus asked.
Jonas nodded: "Yeah, Luke led that. Enhanced it for heirloom moves, made it slicker."
Jonas had to think hard—it was a quirky project for fancier weapon animations.
"Not just heirlooms," Gus smirked. "We've been refining and collecting data to level it up, right?"
"Yep," Luke nodded. "Team's been on it."
The iron triangle—Luke never questioned Gus's obsession with this side tech.
He trusted Gus would reveal its purpose when ready.
Now's the time.
"It's our next game's core," Gus said, eyes gleaming. "We're going all-in on an action role-playing game!"
Whoa!
Shock rippled through.
Action RPGs aren't niche on PC—huge, even.
But in somatosensory cabins, where shooters and racers rule?
Action RPGs are a tough sell.
Yet Gus is bucking the trend!
Ditching FPS, skipping horror (their Nebula-killer), and diving into uncharted waters.
Riskier than turning players into plants!
But this time, no one objected.
It's beyond their scope.
If Gus pitched a chess game to beat Nebula, they'd back it as their only shot.
Everyone nodded, eyes resolute.
"Alright!" Luke looked up. "Gus, lay out the plan. You call the shots, we follow."
He paused, glancing at Zoey.
Zoey smiled, waving it off: "Gus runs the show."
She's got her money-losing sub-project.
The main project? She's hands-off, playing mascot, letting her system secure the floor.
Go wild, Gus!
Do what others won't, with systems and plug-ins as backup—
That's WindyPeak!
Seeing the team's fire, Gus's heart raced.
He thought Garden Warfare would be a quiet side gig, and the action RPG would spark doubts.
But no!
They questioned the veggie game's absurdity but rallied for the big swing.
The real grind's coming!
The ultimate challenge awaits!
The altar of victory is near!
"As long as you don't waver, we're all in," Zoey said, grabbing Gus's hand openly.
Feeling her warmth, Gus squeezed back.
"No hesitation," Gus said, brimming with confidence, almost cocky. "Hesitation means defeat!!!"