Titanfall hit like a nuke, its hype obliterating the gaming world. It owned X trends, a wildfire no one could stop.
Players flooded IndieVibe X2 with perfect scores. Media, led by Tate's Gaming Scoop, threw 10/10s like confetti.
Tate's Gaming Scoop (10/10):
Three hours of Titanfall broke every rule. Mecha games were dead? Gus Harper grabbed a shovel and made them thrive. WindyPeak's director is a trailblazer.
SNG Review (10/10):
Stunning visuals, tight story, gameplay that shatters ceilings. Ten points is our cap, not Titanfall's.
Player Pulse (10/10):
Interactive movie game! After "Psychological Horror" and "Next-Gen FPS," WindyPeak reinvents again. Gus Harper's a gaming genius.
GameSphere (5/5):
A movie trailer inside a game? WindyPeak's fearless, smashing Nebula Games' trio with a pinpoint Burst Core.
Forums—Black Box, Solo World, VR Base—exploded. Even Apex Entertainment, the industry's heavyweight, dropped a feature:
"Breaking Barriers, Embodying WindyPeak's Grit: Titanfall Redefines Gaming."
Not a headline, to dodge bias claims, but its clout was massive. Players roared, media raved, and the industry stood stunned.
In the global internet age, U.S. gaming news—the market's goldmine—hit worldwide X trends faster than a Titan's dash.
"…and Thomas Tull, Legendary Pictures' CEO, is a total gamer," Ethan Caldwell said over the phone.
"They're making a mecha blockbuster, Pacific Rim," he added. "Comic-based, $200 million budget. Almost one-and-a-half times Titanfall's, Gus. No pressure."
Ethan chuckled, but Gus Harper's pulse spiked. Last week, he'd read about Pacific Rim's global VR release—a mecha epic from his past life, now real. And now? Legendary wanted in.
Months back, Legendary and Warner Bros. teamed up with director Guillermo del Toro, pouring $200 million into Pacific Rim. It was wrapped, cleared for U.S. theaters and VR cabins.
Promotion was next. With VR cabins huge stateside, Legendary eyed Nebula Games and IndieVibe, the top VR platform makers with killer streaming services.
IndieVibe locked a deal quick—standard for cabin flicks. Then Legendary tossed a wild pitch: a joint promo with IndieVibe's flagship game to amplify Pacific Rim's buzz.
"So, Ethan, you threw my name in?" Gus asked.
"Nope," Ethan said. "Thomas Tull himself picked Titanfall. Mecha vibes, your interactive movie shtick—it's his jam. Plus, you're owning X right now."
Gus inhaled sharply. Legendary Pictures wasn't just big—it was Hollywood royalty, Warner's key ally. This was massive.
"What's their offer?" Gus asked.
Ethan grinned. "Straight to it, huh? They want you as Pacific Rim's special art consultant. Five hundred grand for WindyPeak, market rate."
Gus nodded to himself. Consultant? The film was done. This was a $3.5 million name-drop gig. Legendary wanted his hype; he knew Pacific Rim's quality. No-brainer.
"What do they expect from us?" Gus asked.
"Easy," Ethan said. "A spot in Titanfall Part 2's credits. They're surfing your wave."
Gus frowned. Too simple. Then he recalled Pacific Rim's trailer. A spark hit.
"Ethan, get me a call with Legendary," Gus said. "I wanna talk deeper collab—music, maybe, to make it epic."
Zoey Parker scoured X all day, from gaming blogs to Hollywood trades, hunting for a film titan to slam Titanfall's "interactive movie" gambit.
Nada. Just one indie director, Felix Grant:
"Interactive movie games are wild. They could shake sci-fi films…"
Praising Gus. Zoey groaned.
Night fell, her office empty. One last X check, no hope left. She refreshed trends, ready to bolt.
Then she froze.
"8. Mecha x Mecha Dream Team-Up"
Her heart skipped. She clicked.
Pacific Rim V (@PacificRimV):
Real men's mecha collab! Pacific Rim and Titanfall unite! We've tapped @GusHarper as honorary art consultant. Supernova approved! See you in theaters June 10!
Comments flooded:
Gus Harper (@GusHarper): Honored to consult for @PacificRimV. Titanfall Part 2 will blow Pacific winds through your VR cabin!
IndieVibe X2: Hell yeah!
IndieVibe Cinema:Honk honk!
IndieVibe Games: Dream team! 🔥🔥🔥
Ethan Caldwell (@EthanCaldwellV): All in…
Zoey sat, petrified, for thirty seconds.
"What the hell?" she whispered.
Titanfall and a Hollywood blockbuster? Top-ten trending? She searched Pacific Rim.
Production: Legendary Pictures, Warner Bros.
Her keyboard skidded off the desk. Zoey sank into her chair, reclining till it groaned.
Life was over.
Rage surged. She slammed the desk, bolting up. "This is my game! Nobody told me we're teaming up with Hollywood!"
Mid-rant, she deflated. Her own rules screwed her. Gus, as project lead, had full control. Collabs didn't need her nod—only budget changes did.
She'd set those rules to slack off, play cool boss. Now they'd backfired.
Zoey stared at the X post—thousands of comments in minutes. Profits weren't the issue; post-deadline revenue didn't count for her $170 million bet to lose $90 million and snag a $990 million rebate. She needed Titanfall to crash.
But this? Legendary's hype was jet fuel. Last night, she'd smirked, waiting for fans to rage over the split release. Now? They were hyped, and Hollywood was piling on.
Her chest tightened. Why'd she hire Gus? A game-making beast who somehow hooked Legendary Pictures?
"My director's a damn social ninja," she muttered, head in hands.
What a disaster.