John suddenly realized Armani was standing in the office, smiling faintly, though the expression quickly faded as he composed himself.
"Alright, Mr. John, no need to overthink it. Take a look at this contract. The business team is still waiting for updates, and I'll need to run over to Martel's office several more times."
"No problem." John nodded, giving the document a quick but careful glance. After confirming there was nothing problematic, he signed and stamped it with the official seal.
Just as Armani was about to leave, John called out, stopping him. "I'm planning to remake Red Alert. What do you think?"
John's tone suggested this was more than a casual idea; it was his way of opening a dialogue, a signal that future project resources and responsibilities would need Armani's input.
Armani, however, shook his head without hesitation. "Completely unnecessary. First, there's the matter of cost."
He paused, then leaned forward slightly. "But more importantly, doing so might appear sincere at first glance, yet it risks backfiring badly." His voice was steady, but firm.
John froze, taken aback.
Armani continued, choosing a metaphor. "Picture this, Mr. John. You're at a restaurant. The waiter serves you a plate of beef, and though it's a bit spicier than you expected, you eat it. Then the owner steps out and insists, 'This dish is too spicy. Let us take it back and cook it again, it'll be much tastier.' As a customer, President John, how would you feel?"
The analogy wasn't perfect, but vivid enough. In essence, it mirrored the situation PixelPioneers Games now faced.
"Our strategy should be different," Armani explained. "Introduce new modes that expand the story with DLC, strengthen multiplayer options, and push forward the PVE experience, much like the multiplayer card system in The Elder Scrolls: Skyrim or the cooperative play in Resident Evil Resistance. That way, players unwilling to spend money can still grind for rewards, while those willing to pay can save time by unlocking content directly."
Armani wasn't a developer, but his years in both entertainment and gaming had given him a keen sense of audience behavior. In this, he often outmaneuvered John.
"And there's a truth I've always believed in," Armani said, meeting John's gaze. "In games or films, all external factors aside, the work itself speaks the loudest. Even if you're labeled a failure at the beginning, a truly remarkable performance or product will still draw people in. The starting point may differ, but the outcome is determined by quality."
John mulled it over, then smiled faintly. "So, our DLC is like serving a fresh plate of beef to players first, letting them enjoy it, and only afterward revealing that we have more of the same, and at an affordable price."
"Exactly. That's the idea." Armani chuckled softly, approving of the comparison.
With that, Armani excused himself, heading off to handle matters with Martel's company, leaving John deep in thought.
Sitting at his desk, John opened a blank document. "A game should present an entire historical backdrop, not just the tale of one person or group. That's how the world truly comes alive."
His mind drifted into the dream-memory narrative he had long been shaping.
September 1939: Germany invades Poland. By month's end, Poland collapses. Britain and France declare war. That same year, the Soviet Union expanded westward.
1940: Blitzkrieg storms across Denmark, Norway, and neighboring countries.
World War II had erupted.
In its wake, the United States and the Soviet Union locked into a Cold War. To counter espionage threats, America formed FOXUNIT. Not long after, the Soviets responded with HOUNDUNIT.
By 1960, a Soviet weapons expert proposed a radical project, Metal Gear. Four years later, they unveiled the Shagohod, a devastating machine. Yet fear of its destructive potential drove plans to defect to the U.S.
The memory diverged from real history, echoing events yet bending them into new shapes. To avoid controversy, John knew he must frame nations and conflicts in softened, abstract terms, fictionalized, but recognizable.
RTS mechanics, he decided, could mirror the march of history, while an independent storyline wove through the setting. And perhaps, with the concept of a time-space machine, parallel timelines could expand the possibilities.
His fingers tapped the keyboard, pouring these ideas into the document.
Meanwhile, Red Alert's DLC updates occupied his immediate attention. Public interest in the game had waned slightly. As a competitive RTS, critics dismissed it as unpolished. Yet as casual entertainment, it still carried appeal.
At its set price, it was fair, comparable to other indie titles. Combined with PixelPioneers Games' solid multiplayer framework, online activity remained strong. Newcomers who tried it late found themselves pleasantly surprised. No story mode? Doesn't matter. It's hilarious battling the AI with friends. A fast-food game, yes, but tasty enough to keep people coming back.
What reignited buzz, however, was an unusual, unmentionable mod for The Elder Scrolls: Skyrim. Player chatter flared again, and attention swung back toward PixelPioneers Games.
John, satisfied with the backstory he had crafted, stretched and glanced at the official blog he hadn't touched in days. Opening it, he skimmed the latest updates, news about Red Alert promotions, scattered comments, and fresh anticipation.
Smiling, he snapped a photo of his monitor, covering part of the screen with a nearby book.
The new game is already in progress. It will be on the same scale as The Elder Scrolls: Skyrim, a project to truly anticipate. But release is still far, far away.
Of course, we have plenty of big moves ahead: a sequel to Resident Evil, a spin-off mini-game, and more DLC for Red Alert.
And now, the name of our new game, something I can finally reveal.
Metal Gear. That is the future awaiting you.
Hitting "publish," John felt the weight of doubt and negativity lift. The noise of online complaints faded into silence. He saved the GDD file to his desktop, right-clicked, and renamed it with four bold words: Metal Gear.