Regarding the ongoing debate around Red Alert, many voices from outside the studio insisted that this was not the kind of title one would expect from PixelPioneers Games.
Yet, the numbers told a different story. Despite the lack of any formal marketing campaign, within just five days, the game had sold 1.7 million copies, a figure that stunned even the developers themselves.
On the game platform, the player count remained remarkably steady. At peak hours, it hovered around 600,000 concurrent users, and even in the depths of late-night play there were still hundreds of thousands online. The community was clearly hooked.
The online RTS component stood out. Red Alert's blistering pace, coupled with the removal of traditional population caps, created a distinct experience, one that leaned more toward entertainment than strict competition.
In competitive gaming, fairness is king. Yet for a title built around fun, fairness still matters, but the balance shifts. If perceived fairness doesn't weigh heavily on the outcome, the sheer joy of the gameplay itself can rise above it. For many, Red Alert became exactly that: a game where the thrill outweighed the rules.
RTS games once ruled the genre charts, but their dominance had long been shrinking. Why? Because nearly every developer had chosen to define RTS titles through the lens of e-sports, hyper-focused on mechanical precision, multitasking, and micromanagement. The high entry barrier scared away most newcomers.
Red Alert, in contrast, was bold, brash, and unapologetically simple. Its design embodied one of John's earlier principles: make the game feel that satisfying rush of exhilaration.
While some players complained that Red Alert lacked the sweeping lore of The Elder Scrolls: Skyrim or the haunting narratives of Resident Evil, others admitted the stripped-down approach worked. The multiplayer mode, especially, drew praise. Even novices could jump in, gather resources in a frenzy, throw up a barracks, and flood the map with guardsmen. Watching wave after wave of one's own troops pour across the battlefield stirred a visceral sense of triumph.
This feeling was unlike any other RTS. In traditional titles, a skilled opponent might decimate you with just a handful of elite units, leaving your own forces wiped out and the survivors bleeding out on the field. That sense of helplessness, of being utterly outclassed, was replaced in Red Alert with fast-paced battles and relentless energy.
Because of its speed, players could crash headlong into massive armies without the suffocating frustration that defined its predecessors.
And perhaps that was the hidden genius of the game: humans are natural collectors. Gamers, even more so. Whether it's chasing achievements, clearing side quests, or stockpiling rare weapons, the urge to have it all is irresistible. Whether or not these rewards prove useful hardly matters, the act of owning them is satisfaction enough.
Red Alert tapped into this psychology perfectly. Its units intensified that collector's drive, feeding the thrill of amassing armies and overwhelming opponents.
Back at the PixelPioneers Games office, John's announcement that the game would be reworked left Koch and the team stunned.
"No, wait… Mr. John, why remake it? The game's prospects are excellent! We're preparing to roll out a brand-new national faction with fresh units to expand the multiplayer experience!" Koch's voice reflected the disbelief mirrored in the team's wide eyes.
John, however, faltered. Excellent prospects? Wasn't the game being criticized nonstop by players?
He pulled up the data again, perplexed. The ratings remained at a modest 7 out of 10. Yet, despite mediocre reviews, the sales numbers were climbing and the player base wasn't thinning. Was this a case of players hating the game in words, but secretly loving it in practice? Maybe it was the affordable price. Maybe it was word-of-mouth momentum. Whatever the cause, the contradiction gnawed at him.
After Luna urged him to rethink, John leaned toward remaking the title. But then Koch pointed out that perhaps the game wasn't nearly as bad as John believed.
"Yes, the reviews are mixed," Koch admitted, "but a lot of players praised it too. The multiplayer mode received excellent feedback. The main complaints came from the absence of a proper single-player mode beyond fighting AI. And don't forget, we recently acquired Social Tap. Some of the negative reviews are clearly targeted sabotage."
John left the meeting and slumped into his office chair, dizzy with doubt. Should he push forward with a remake, or simply expand the existing content? The dilemma consumed him all morning. It wasn't until Armani entered with Martel's finished reports that clarity began to emerge.
"I don't really understand games," Armani said plainly, "but let me say this, Mr. John. Games are commodities. And every commodity has its target audience. Think about health supplements. Why do most buyers fall in their 50s and 60s, while the younger generation barely notices them?"
"Because the product's positioning is crystal clear," he continued. "Its audience is the older generation, worried about their health."
"Games are no different. FPS, RPG, action titles, and even otome games are all crafted for distinct audiences. Not every game needs to be a blockbuster AAA masterpiece. But it must be good enough for its chosen group. The problem here is positioning. If you had declared from the start that this was a multiplayer-focused entertainment game, expectations would have aligned, and the backlash would've been far less."
Instead, the lack of marketing left players guessing. Many assumed they were getting something with the depth of Skyrim, the tension of Resident Evil, or even the narrative polish of Octopath Traveler. When reality fell short of those imagined standards, disappointment was inevitable.
John sat in silence, Armani's words echoing in his head. Luna had voiced similar concerns earlier. Staring at the Red Alert design document on his computer, John suddenly understood where he had gone wrong.
At what point had he become arrogant? When did he stop treating each project with respect? Somewhere along the line, he had started believing failure didn't matter, that Red Alert could be a mere practice piece for the team, a disposable experiment. Was it after Octopath Traveler? Or when he dabbled with Outlast?
It was as if success had made him careless, the way newfound wealth can make someone forget the value of money. Material comfort hadn't corrupted him, complacency in his craft had.
For the first time in a long while, John confronted his own shortcomings as a creator.