Cliff had no idea that his wicked laughter had just sent a chill down the spine of a certain "little partner" in the room. Litwick huddled in the corner, its small flame flickering nervously as it watched its master work.
Since he intended to rely on streaming for emotional revenue, Cliff naturally headed for the platform with the largest reach. He opened his browser, navigated to the PsyduckTV landing page, and began the process of registering a creator account.
However, when he reached the identity verification stage, he hit a wall. No matter how clearly he typed his personal data, the text transformed into a string of incomprehensible gibberish the moment he hit enter.
"A glitch? Is the site broken?"
Just as frustration began to set in, a System prompt shimmered into view:
[Ding! Warning: Beginner Protection Active! As a transmigrator, your identity data has been strictly encrypted. No third party can investigate or retrieve your personal information.][Remaining Protection Time: 4 days, 3 hours, 23 minutes.][Note: Renewal costs 10 Emotional Points per week. Cost scales with successive renewals.]
Cliff's eyes widened, followed by a look of profound relief. "So that's why my registration on the game portal was a mess of code. I thought the League's web developers were just incompetent."
This was a godsend. It meant that even as his games took the world by storm, he would remain a ghost. He didn't have to worry about corporate spies from Vance's Dream Factory or, worse, the literal criminal syndicates of this world. If a boss from Team Rocket or Team Galactic decided he "knew too much," they wouldn't even be able to find his street address.
"Only ten points for a week of peace?" Cliff smirked, rubbing his chin. "Sold."
With his digital mask firmly in place, he opened his personal broadcast room. He didn't go live immediately. Instead, he clicked an icon on his desktop: Battle Path.
His plan was simple: "Know thy enemy." Before he could build a superior battle simulator, he had to understand why Dream Factory's "masterpiece" was currently dominating the market.
A cheerful, upbeat melody played as the Dream Factory logo filled the screen. A soft, synthesized female voice greeted him: "Welcome to the world of Battle Path! Please enter your Player Name!"
Cliff didn't hesitate. He tapped out four characters: [Talented Individual].
He spent several minutes breezing through the tutorial to grasp the core mechanics. Battle Path was, technically, a turn-based game, but it aimed for "realism." Players used a microphone to give voice commands to their Pokémon. The game would then take several seconds to calculate the interaction before showing the two Pokémon clashing.
While there was a noticeable delay and it wasn't true "real-time" combat, the system allowed for nuances like "Dodge to the left!" or "Aim your Flamethrower at the sky!" By the standards of this world, it was cutting-edge technology, the absolute pinnacle of the industry. No wonder Dream Factory held the crown. But to a former pro producer like Cliff, it was clunky, bloated, and archaic.
When he exited the tutorial to the main menu, the screen was immediately assaulted by a massive, neon-colored pop-up:
[CONGRATULATIONS! YOU'VE UNLOCKED THE LIMITED-TIME FIRST RECHARGE DEAL!][Recharge $6 now to get the exclusive 'Psyduck Hat' and 1x Random Purple-Tier Pokémon Unlock Card!]
Cliff blinked and closed the box, only for three more to take its place.
[Cumulative Recharge Event Active! Reach $648 to receive the 'Special Red Pokémon Box'!][Summer Blowout! Get Prism Gems at a 20% discount!][New Season Battle Pass Live! Unlock the Deluxe Edition for $388 and skip the first 20 levels!]
Cliff's lip curled in a dry twitch. "Now this feels familiar. Some things never change across universes."
It was the classic "Free-to-Play" trap. Battle Path was less a game and more a shopfront with a combat mini-game attached. He navigated to the Pokémon roster and felt a headache coming on.
Every Pokémon had to be unlocked. They were categorized into five tiers: White, Blue, Green, Purple, and Red. The more iconic or powerful the species, the higher the tier. Pseudo-legendaries like Garchomp and Dragonite were Red-Tier, requiring 1,000 "Prism Gems", the premium currency, to unlock.
Converted to cash, that was roughly $500 for a single Pokémon.
To build a competitive team of six, a player might spend thousands. To fill a diverse roster for different strategies? Tens of thousands. It was a staggering financial barrier, even for professional trainers.
The only saving grace was that paying didn't increase the Pokémon's raw stats. If Dream Factory had crossed the "Pay-to-Win" line into stat-boosting, Cliff suspected the internet would have burned their headquarters down by now.