Three days later!
Zoey Parker bounced back and hit the office.
First move at work? Called a meeting with all project department execs to kick off the Titanfall spin-off project!
With the system's v1.0 fully unlocked, the "main project profit + sub-project loss" strategy lit a fire under Zoey's money-losing dreams.
APEX, Titanfall's spin-off, became the first sub-project in the full system.
Perfect guinea pig for Zoey to test: Can a sub-project tank when the main project profits?
"Everyone here? Let's roll."
In WindyPeak's conference room, Zoey's face was still pale, but her vibe was sharp. She clapped, starting the meeting.
Gus Harper raised a hand: "Hold up, Ms. Parker. Forgot someone."
"Missing who?" Zoey scanned the room.
Chloe Quinn, the core trio led by Gus, plus Jamie York, Kyle Lang, and Shane Rivera.
Same crew as every meeting. Who's missing?
"I suggest pulling in Max Wheeler from Ops," Gus said.
"Since taking over PUBG's ops, Max has been killing it, making solid progress."
"He's dialed into what multiplayer online competitive gamers want."
"Ms. Parker, thoughts?"
Oh—whole squad's jumping in.
Gus is hyped for APEX.
Fair.
Titanfall set a high bar—any sane person would aim to match that quality in a spin-off.
Too bad I've got the system. Sorry, Gus.
Zoey smirked inwardly.
You've already cashed in fame and fortune with Titanfall. Let me take a hit on this quiet sub-project as payback.
Even if Max Wheeler joins, or the gaming gods themselves, I'll find the loss point!
Nodding: "Cool, get Max in."
Gus grinned, texted Max.
Soon, Max knocked, greeted, and sat.
"Alright, everyone's here. Let's do this," Zoey said.
"Titanfall's a slam dunk, no question."
"We promised spin-offs; time to make it happen."
"Today, we're hashing out the APEX project—game content, investment, profit model, all of it."
"Director Harper, break down the game."
Last night, while Gus chaperoned her final IV drip, Zoey grilled him on APEX.
Pretty much the same deal, he said.
Truth? Gus had unlocked APEX in the system by Titanfall's second week.
With Titanfall paving the way, APEX's unlock didn't need double emotional value—just 400,000.
Next step: tweak it for somatosensory cabins, "port" it to IndieVibe X2.
"Got it," Gus nodded.
"I've floated APEX to the project team before."
"It's still our hottest multiplayer format—PUBG style."
"Battle Royale, chicken-dinner vibes."
Yes!
Perfect!
Zoey nodded hard.
While laid up at home, she didn't just veg out.
When Gus was at work, she'd sneak into their shared study, poke around.
Main goal? Scope player expectations for Titanfall spin-offs.
Most figured APEX would lean traditional—two teams, small-to-mid maps, offensive play. Rack up kills, earn points, summon Titans.
Standard mode.
Even now, a flagship FPS for Polar Bear's third-gen cabin, StarWolf's Blaze, teased a mech mode like that.
Big studio, big bucks—copying simple models fast.
But Blaze's mechs, limited by first-gen FPS roots, lacked Titanfall's jaw-dropping immersion.
So, players still hyped WindyPeak for a legit multiplayer spin-off.
Zoey worried Gus would play it safe with a standard battle mode.
Nope—Gus skipped that, went straight for "Battle Royale"!
Here's the thing!
Battle royale's rep isn't great these days!
Too many copycats!
Post-PUBG, every FPS has chicken-dinner vibes!
Some add it as a mode; others, like Radiant's Covert Ops, straight-up clone it.
With that overload, players get bored fast.
Most circle back to PUBG.
It's the OG—tight optimization, slick experience, tons of events, new maps drop quick.
Market mantra: PUBG birthed battle royale, wears the crown forever.
And now!
A Titanfall spin-off picking battle royale? Risky move.
PUBG's too big.
So big, even WindyPeak can't top it.
Jackpot!
Zoey grinned inside.
But!
She stayed sharp!
Knowing Gus, a wild choice like this means he's got a plan.
Zoey asked: "So, Director Harper, any new tricks for this game?"
Show me your moves. I'm ready this time.
"A bit. Moderate tweak," Gus said with a sly smile.
"Battle royales lean on guns, props as backup—PUBG included."
"This time, we're switching it up."
"Adding 'skills,' pulling from RPGs or MOBAs, launching unique heroes with custom abilities."
Hiss—
Knew it!
Zoey's eyes narrowed.
Gus always has a backup.
"So, you think this tweak… works?"
"Hard to say…" Gus shook his head, vague.
Not humility—facts.
This is a parallel world.
Gaming market's different from his old one.
His arrival shook things up.
Back then, why did APEX snatch PUBG's market?
Slick feel, tight optimization, fast pace, skill-based gameplay—more fun per match.
APEX outshone its ancestor.
At its peak, it rivaled PUBG.
But here!
Different story!
APEX's killer feel? Matched by Gus-tuned PUBG.
APEX's optimization? Gus-tuned PUBG's got it.
Two big edges—gone.
Left with 'fast pace' and 'skill gameplay' as innovations.
Pace? Subjective.
Some love speed; others dig slow burns.
Skills? Trickier.
"Five years back, when somatosensory cabins hit mass production, a game like APEX popped up," Jamie York said, with Gus's nod.
Godstrike, a first-person MOBA."
"Applied MOBA mechanics, swapped top-down for first-person."
"Players pick heroes, use attacks or skills to wreck the enemy base."
First-person League.
Zoey raised a brow: "Sounds dope?"
"For sure," Jamie nodded.
"Innovation-wise, it was a hit, pulled big crowds at launch."
"But," he pivoted, "it fizzled fast."
"Novelty faded, core issues showed."
"'FPS meets MOBA' sounds cool, but they're different beasts."
"MOBAs need wide views, tight mechanics, team play."
"FPS mode struggles to deliver."
"Game felt warped."
"No top-down screen-drag, info's spotty, judgment's off."
"No full view, lane swaps, solos, or group plays lag, tanking execution."
"First-person limits make teamfights a skill-spam mess—no focus, no sync."
"Seven months post-launch, servers shut down."
Jamie sighed.
"Good game, not fun."
Death sentence for any studio.
Godstrike had buzz among players and designers.
Its creativity popped—Zoey thought it sounded cool.
But players found it clunky.
Not MOBA's depth, nor FPS's thrill.
Great idea, bad play.
Final verdict: Good game, not fun.
"Now," Luke Brent picked up, "APEX is basically Godstrike's reverse—"
"Using MOBA skills as FPS foundation."
Hiss—
Zoey got it, gasping.
Gus, you freak.
What's with his brain?
PUBG peaked at launch, the ultimate battle royale.
Yet Gus wants to top his own benchmark.
Zoey's been floored by his creativity before.
But this? She marveled.
Gus's game sense, his designs—they don't match his age or resume.
But!
Marveling's one thing!
Zoey caught the team's drift!
APEX is a minefield!
Game type? Up against PUBG, the battle royale titan.
Design? Echoes a hyped-but-dropped game, tanked by core conflicts.
Debuffs stacked to the moon!
Zoey half-suspected Gus was experimenting, not caring about APEX's profit.
This project screams challenge for him.
He wants to push his own gaming bar, even if it flops.
Yup…
That's the vibe.
Zoey nodded secretly.
For steady profit and rep, Gus could've gone safe like Blaze.
But he's dancing on a razor, picking the wild path, chasing the impossible.
Nice.
Zoey was stoked.
If that's the vibe, we're on the same wavelength.
"I say we go for it," Zoey approved on the spot.
"Playing safe ain't WindyPeak's style."
"Godstrike's flop is a shame, but maybe a win for us."
"They might've mixed FPS and MOBA wrong."
"We could nail it."
Zoey grinned, waving off pressure. She greenlit the project—no blame if it tanks.
Plus.
APEX pulls data from Titanfall, costing just $50M.
Compared to their all-in bets on PUBG and Titanfall, it's a breeze.
"So," Zoey said, "Don't fear failure. Swing for it. We can take the hit."
The room smirked, nodding: "Ms. Parker's got guts."
"Haha, save the flattery," Zoey, eating up the praise, waved it off.
"Game content, design, and budget are set."
"One last big thing—"
"Let's talk APEX's profit model!"