"Holy crap! There's really a Lotus Boss!"
"This year's Indie Game Fest is wild. They're kicking it off with a bang."
"Maybe Gus Harper begged to join the fest, and IndieVibe didn't dare cross Zoey Parker, so they bit the bullet and let 'em in."
"Lotus Boss, the ultimate bully, confirmed."
"Hahahaha, I'm dying!"
"Zoey's adorable as hell."
"What's this mini-game they've been hyping? WindyPeak held it back forever for this moment."
"Bet it's some goofy two-player thing, like Who's the Daddy?"
"Damn, that's gonna be a riot. Gus might drive Zoey nuts."
"New workplace chaos strat, huh?"
"Never seen devs stream their own game live. This is next-level."
"Are their own games easy for 'em to play?"
"Gotta be, right?"
"What's this mini-game anyway?"
"Can't wait to see the gameplay!"
The Twitch chat went wild.
In the IndieVibe Mini Games Online Unveiling Live Broadcast, Gus Harper was vibing with the host, keeping the crowd hyped with his knack for innovation.
Zoey Parker eased into the livestream rhythm, tossing in comments here and there, her quirky charm masking her ironic hope for a game flop to fuel her $71.4M loss-reward system.
The trio chatted for ten minutes, then watched promo videos for other Indie Game Fest titles.
The stream flowed smoothly, the vibe chill and hyped.
Meanwhile, off-screen—
Luke Bennett, parked at his PC, popped a peanut and pulled his headset mic down: "Yo, ten bucks says they crash and burn by which level?"
His voice lit up the group chat, his avatar pulsing.
The chat had a dozen-plus WindyPeak project department avatars, all tuned in.
Tonight!
Right now!
The whole WindyPeak crew was chilling in a virtual conference room, watching the stream and mic'd up!
Why?
They built Overcooked!
They knew exactly how much chaos this stream was about to unleash!
Overcooked's mechanics are simple.
Cook stuff.
Chop ingredients per the recipe, cook 'em—boil, fry, deep-fry, stir-fry.
Serve dishes in order, cash in, clean plates after diners finish.
Start the next round.
Sounds easy.
But here's the kicker!
Orders pile up, each with a timer.
Timer length depends on dish complexity.
Your chill single-task game turns into a multi-tasking nightmare.
One customer wants mushroom soup, another a veggie salad, another a wrap.
Orders stack, and you're screwed.
It gets worse.
Two players, twice the chaos.
No way two brains sync perfectly under pressure.
You want soup, I'm on salad. You say chop, I'm frying.
Cue total pandemonium.
Once chaos hits, your orderly kitchen collapses.
It's game over.
When Luke threw out the bet, the chat exploded.
"I'm calling 2-1, the truck kitchen," Jake Rivers said. "The trucks split apart—pure torture."
Jake remembered that level vividly. During testing with Luke, two gaming pros and best buds, they flunked it three times before passing.
"Nah, they won't make it to the second world. Zoey's a newbie," Jared Young countered:
"Ten bucks says they brawl before 1-4. New recipe drops there."
"Jared, you're sleeping on 'em. Zoey's green, but Gus's a beast," Jake Rivers shot back:
"Ten bucks on 1-6. Earthquake map's brutal. Without prep, they're staring at a burning pot."
"2-2 for me."
"2-3. Gus is cracked."
"Gus shines when his teammate listens. You think Zoey takes orders? 2-1."
"I'm dreaming big—$100M, $1B vibes. 3-1."
"3-2."
The crew, hyped and roasting their bosses, threw in bets!
Red envelopes flooded the WindyPeak chat.
Each had a level guess on the cover.
Bet on when Gus and Zoey would lose it.
Correct guesses snag the cash.
As bets locked in, the Indie Game Fest stream's opening wrapped.
"…This year's Indie Game Fest devs are killing it," the host said, turning to Gus and Zoey:
"Y'all saw the vids. Who's your pick?"
"Dress-up adventure," Zoey said. "Girl-focused games are rare here. The models and art are gorgeous."
The host nodded: "Gus?"
"All the games looked solid," Gus Harper said, playing it safe:
"Some have super fresh gameplay."
Gus's vague answer was deliberate. Zoey, the CEO, was the company's mascot—less "pro," so she could fangirl freely.
But Gus? He was WindyPeak's soul, a gaming industry trendsetter pushing for the next big FPS like Titanfall 2.
If he hyped one game, it'd dominate the fest.
Unfair to the others.
The host got Gus's tact, nodding: "These devs brought their A-game."
"So, I hear you two brought a fun mini-game to kick off the fest, with a live demo today."
"Zoey, tell us about it?"
"Uh… sure," Zoey hesitated, thinking, Why me? Ask Gus—I didn't make this thing.
But she rolled with it, lightbulb flashing:
"Our game's a multiplayer cooking sim, up to four players on-screen."
"Chill with friends or your partner."
"Feel the cozy kitchen vibe, whip up tasty dishes, and see customers leave happy."
"Builds friendships, sparks romance."
"Cute cartoon style, super casual."
Nailed it! Zoey smirked inwardly, hoping a flop might boost her loss-reward system.
She'd parroted Gus's lollipop-catching pitch from the other day, word for word.
Proud of her quick thinking, she missed Gus's twitching lip.
Damn it.
Gus cursed himself for overselling Overcooked.
He'd painted it as a chill cooking sim, and Zoey bought it hook, line, and sinker.
What's her face gonna do when the chaos hits?
The host jumped in: "Sounds relaxing as hell. Bet the Twitch crowd's itching to play."
"Y'all take it away."
"Show us a cozy, chill cooking journey—"
The camera cut, and Overcooked's main menu popped up on the big screen.
Staff handed Gus and Zoey wireless controllers.
The stream looked smooth, chat buzzing with hype.
But the WindyPeak crew? Losing it!
"Who fed Zoey that intro?!"
"Gus, hahaha, who else?"
"Wild move, Gus."
"Master of game pitches."
"'Cozy kitchen vibe'? The stove's screaming!"
"Pots on fire, chaos city—that's the vibe, hahaha."
"Can't wait to see Zoey's meltdown."
"Gus's risking it all for the lulz."
"Should we swing by Portland to save Gus? Zoey might bury him post-stream."
"Here we go! Place your bets!"
The crew roared, eyes glued to the stream.
Gus and Zoey were locked in.
Zoey's face glowed with a grin.
First time gaming with Gus—no, first time gaming with a guy.
How to play it?
Her brain raced.
Lean into him, play assistant, hype him with "You're killing it!"?
Or go full chef, chopping, washing, frying, flexing her skills to wow Gus?
Ugh, tough call.
Gus nudged her: "Yo, pick a character."
"Huh? Oh, right!" Zoey snapped back, eyeing the screen.
Gus had picked a raccoon chef in a wheelchair, rocking a gritty "never give up" vibe.
Super weird.
Click, click—
Zoey flipped through, landing on a cute twin-tailed girl.
"Mine's cuter," she said, smirking at Gus:
"Ready! Let's cook!"
Chat erupted—
"Woo! It's on!"
"Game's adorable."
"Perfect for chilling with buds."
"WindyPeak making a normal game? Shocked."
"Never thought I'd see this."
"Hold up, this feels too simple for WindyPeak."
"Yeah, Gus staying quiet during the intro, and that wheelchair raccoon…"
"Bad vibes incoming…"
As chat speculated, the game loaded.
Whoosh—BOOM!
Fireballs rained down, city in chaos, flames everywhere.
A giant Spaghetti Monster, taller than skyscrapers, wielding a knife and fork, trashed the place.
The Onion King stood on the tallest rooftop, glaring: "Hey hey, woo woo, hey hey (This Spaghetti Monster's too much!) Hey hey, hey hey, hey hey! (Hold it back!)"
The absurd intro sent Twitch into hysterics!
"Holy crap! Flying Spaghetti Monster?!"
"Hahaha, dumbest villain ever."
"WindyPeak can't make a normal mini-game, huh?"
"This Onion King is killing me—onion language?!"
"Wild as hell."
"Stupidest game boss I've seen."
"I'm dead…"
"This… you designed this?!" Zoey gaped at Gus:
"A meatball monster?"
"So intimidating!"
Gus shrugged: "Pasta taller than a building? Nightmare fuel."
"Sorry, your idea of 'scary' is lost on me…" Zoey shook her head, thinking Gus was unhinged.
The intro faded, and the tutorial level loaded.
Wheelchair raccoon and twin-tailed girl popped up in top-down view.
Zoey was left, by stoves and two chopping boards, on veggie duty.
Gus was right, by ingredient crates, handling supplies and serving the Spaghetti Monster.
Ding ding!
Orders flashed at the top—veggie salads.
Just cabbage, or cabbage and tomato.
Chop, plate, serve.
Zoey rolled up her sleeves: "Let's cook!"
But—
Swish swish swish—
A pile of turnips and tomatoes flew at her.
Gus, already at the crates, was yeeting ingredients over.
"Hey—hold up! Chill! That's enough!" Zoey yelped, about to be buried in veggies.
"Gus! This is a chill game! Relax, got it?"
"Plus, we're a clean, legit restaurant! You can't toss ingredients on the floor!"
Zoey scooped up the food and chucked it in the trash.
If only my loss-reward system worked like this—tossing cash in the bin for financial freedom, she thought, smirking, dreaming of her $71.4M rebate paying off.
"Reset, don't panic," she waved.
Gus, wide-eyed, burst out laughing: "Alright, your call?"
Zoey checked the orders and nodded: "Yup! Clean and classy restaurant!"
"Cool," Gus chuckled, slowly pulling a turnip from the crate, wheeling to the counter, and setting it down.
"Here you go."
"That's better," Zoey said, grabbing the turnip, hitting the chopping board, slicing, and plating.
"Waiter, serve it!"
"On it—" Gus hollered:
"Old Bay Special veggie salad, comin' up!"
Crunch—
The salad hit the Spaghetti Monster's mouth. Ding-dong, tips rolled in, progress bar ticked up.
Zoey grinned, about to speak—
Ding! Ding! Ding!
Three orders popped up. Tomatoes joined the mix.
"Two cabbage salads! Two with tomatoes! Hang tight!" Gus called, leisurely grabbing a turnip, another turnip, a tomato, and a plate.
One trip at a time.
Zoey eyed Gus wheeling around, then the three orders ticking down, her voice edgy:
"Gus? How 'bout tossing a turnip?"
"Tch," Gus scoffed:
"We're a clean restaurant! No throwing ingredients!"
"I…" Zoey glared at his smug face, stubborn:
"Great job, Chef Gus. High-class joint!"
"Thanks, boss," Gus nodded. "Quality over speed—"
Ding ding ding ding ding—!!!
Five more orders dropped!
Zoey's eyes, already big, went full lightbulb!
Three salads weren't done, and now five more?!
The order list was a wall of text!
Zoey's face flipped like a soap opera star!
"Toss the damn turnips!"
"Huh?" Gus blinked, caught off-guard by her mood swing:
"But food safety—"
"Screw safety!" Zoey smacked Gus's thigh, pointing at the Spaghetti Monster:
"You wanna talk safety with that freak? I'm nice for not spiking his salad with poison!"
"Hurry! Throw it!"
"Holy crap!" Gus gasped:
"Mood swings like a soap opera?!"