Seventy-two hours later.
Thursday, 3:17 p.m.
Peyton was halfway through a burrito the size of his forearm when his phone buzzed with an ESDH notification.
**Lonely Desert Highway – Live on Store!**
He whooped loud enough that half the dining hall turned to stare.
Phase Two complete.
He wiped hot sauce off his chin, opened the store page on his phone, and admired his baby in all its $0.99 glory.
**Current downloads: 3**
**Revenue: $2.97** (minus the 30% platform cut, he was already down to $2.08)
Perfect. At this rate he'd lose the full fifty grand by… never. But close enough.
He refreshed again.
**Downloads: 4**
Still beautiful.
He finished the burrito, tossed the wrapper, and headed back to the dorm to wait for sweet, sweet bankruptcy.
That was when everything went wrong.
His phone started vibrating like it was possessed.
Ten notifications.
Fifty.
Two hundred.
He opened YouTube.
Trending #3 – Gaming:
**"I Played the Worst Game Ever Made for 8 Hours Straight So You Don't Have To"**
Old Joe – 2.7 million views – uploaded 4 hours ago
Thumbnail: Old Joe's dead-eyed face at hour 7, desert highway in the background, caption "send help".
Peyton felt his soul leave his body.
He clicked.
Old Joe's exhausted voice filled the hallway:
"Chat, I have seen some garbage in my day. Goat Simulator. Superman 64. That one Roblox ripoff where you pay real money to look at a wall.
But this… this is performance art.
This is a war crime in executable form."
Cut to him reading the store description in the most sarcastic voice known to man, then the full eight-hour timelapse condensed to twenty minutes of pure suffering.
Every time he drifted off the road and restarted, chat spammed skull emojis.
At the end screen—"Congratulations! You just wasted eight hours…"—Old Joe just stared into the camera for ten solid seconds, whispered "I need an adult," and ended the stream.
The top comment, 180k likes:
"paid 99 cents just to leave a 1-star review. money well spent."
Peyton refreshed the ESDH dashboard with trembling fingers.
**Downloads: 47,832**
**Revenue: $33,482** (after cut)
He dropped his phone.
It landed face-up, still refreshing.
**52,119**
**58,704**
**67,991**
Every new download was another dagger in his heart.
He sprinted back to the dorm, slammed the door, and opened his laptop.
Reddit, Twitter, TikTok—everywhere the same clips.
College group chats were sending it to each other with the caption "send this to your ex".
Some CS major had already started a speedrun timer category: "Fastest mental breakdown".
Peyton stared at the numbers climbing like a horror movie kill count and whispered the only words that felt appropriate.
"No… no no no no NO—"
By midnight:
**Downloads: 214,677**
**Gross revenue: $150,274**
**SkyHigh Games current status: +$100,274 profit**
The system panel updated in cold, merciless blue:
[Profit detected: $100,274]
[Personal conversion (100:1): $1,002.74]
[Amount you just lost forever: $99,271.26]
Peyton curled into the fetal position on his dorm floor, surrounded by empty energy-drink cans, and did the only thing a man could do in that situation.
He cried.
Real tears.
Mason walked in, took one look at him, and asked, "Dude… you okay?"
Peyton's voice cracked like a thirteen-year-old's.
"I just wanted to lose money, Mason.
That's all I wanted."
Mason stared for a long second, then slowly backed out of the room.
"…I'm gonna give you some space."
The door clicked shut.
Peyton stayed on the floor until the sun came up, watching the download counter tick ever higher.
Somewhere out there, Old Joe was already planning a 100% completion run.
And the universe laughed.
Hard.