Zoey Parker's heart sank.
Discrepancies?
She'd already labeled Cat Leo as a "participation trophy" game—meant to flop, not fly. Sales couldn't possibly get worse than zero.
Which meant…
Zoey frowned, a bad feeling creeping in. "So…" she said, voice shaky, "how many hundreds of copies sold?"
Hundreds of suckers bought this thing? Her face twisted into a pained grimace.
She braced herself.
On the other end, Chloe Quinn chuckled. "Ms. Parker, what's with you? Didn't you say yesterday you believed in this game?"
"Oh, right," Chloe added, like she'd just remembered something. "I owe you an apology. When you said Cat Leo had big potential with its wild gameplay, I doubted you. But you nailed it—your market sense is unreal!"
Normally, praise feels good. Who doesn't love a pat on the back?
Not Zoey. Chloe's words sent a chill down her spine.
This is bad.
With Chloe hyping her up like that, how many copies did this game sell?!
"Okay, Chloe, we're tight, so spill it," Zoey cut in, barely hiding her panic. "What's Gus's sales numbers for Cat Leo?"
"Haha, your 'hundreds' guess is way too low!" Chloe's voice was all sunshine. "We're killing it! In 12 hours, 4,872 copies sold—$9,744 total. We're almost breaking even!"
"…How much?!" Zoey's scream nearly cracked her phone, louder than Chloe's cheer.
"Haha, 4,872!" Chloe laughed. "Didn't see that coming, huh? Surprised? Stoked?"
Stoked? Zoey's vision blurred. She flopped back onto her bed, rebooting like a crashed console.
Surprise? I'm ready to yeet myself out the window and skip the stairs.
Who taught gamers to buy this trash?! Over 4,800 copies? Nearly ten grand? She was out $300 already!
No, worse—this was just one day's sales. At this rate, Cat Leo would blow past 5,000 copies, covering the $10,000 budget. If profits hit before the system's settlement, her rebate would vanish.
Zoey opened her system, despair washing over her.
[Investment Rebate System]
[Current Investment: $10,000]
[Expected Rebate: $3,000]
[Time Left: 6 days, 15 hours]
Gulp.
"Why…" Zoey groaned, sprawled like a defeated cartoon villain, ready to cough up blood.
Chloe, oblivious to her boss's meltdown, kept gushing. "We got lucky! A big streamer played it last night—picked our game for his show! It was hilarious, I was crying laughing. I'll send you the clip, you gotta see it…"
As the call ended, Zoey lay lifeless, like her soul had left the chat.
For a full half-hour, she stared at the ceiling, wailing, "This is insane! Who saw this coming?!"
She'd checked last night—on the IndieVibe platform, only 500 mini-games in three years sold over 1,000 copies on day one. Fewer than 50 hit 5,000. Those were big-name sequels, made by famous designers or backed by major studios.
But Cat Leo? A no-name studio's garbage, thrown together by a nobody, with doodle art, wonky characters, and nightmare levels. How did it sell like this?!
Was Chloe right? Just dumb luck—a streamer giving them free hype?
Zoey grabbed her phone and opened the video Chloe sent.
…
"…My verdict? Meh, it's alright!"
On-screen, Yin waved at the camera, oozing fake confidence. The janky cat, after surviving a gauntlet of traps, stood atop a staircase, eyeing the finish-line flagpole with a smug grin: (=°ω°=)
Yin was hyped. "See that flag? Shout it out in chat—what is it?!"
Chat erupted:
"Life count: -59!"
"Haha, sixty lives gone!"
"Love your cocky vibe, bro."
"Forgot the falling monster that smoked you?"
"Bet a rocket you can't hit that flag in one life."
"No more rockets after last night!"
"LOL, petition to make Yin's subs pipe-shaped."
"Shrimp and pig heart, man…"
The mockery hit Yin like a barroom roast. He'd been gaming for years—an old-school pro with slick moves. Sure, he flubbed sometimes, but this? This was next-level humiliation.
One level. Sixty deaths. Counting the starting three lives, Cat Leo had owned him.
Unacceptable.
"Alright, I'm at the end—ain't no way I'm dying again!" Yin waved off the haters, hyping himself up. "I nailed that jump. No way I'm burning half my lives!"
He took a deep breath. "Here—we—GO!"
Cat Leo arced gracefully through the air, inches from the flagpole.
Whoosh!
A red bullet shot from the right side of the screen: [You thought you'd win? Nope!]
Bang! It smashed Cat Leo like a runaway truck, sending him flying.
Health: -60
Dead silence.
Yin's face cycled from green to red to purple, a volcano about to blow. Then, with a red-faced roar, he slammed his fist on the desk.
Bang!
The keyboard bounced, the mouse skidded, and the controller flew across the room.
That day, Yin's neighbors heard a furious, almost tearful scream: "If I keep playing this, I'm done for! Get OUT! Get off my PC!!"
Zoey, watching the clip, couldn't help but smirk. Oops… our game's driving people nuts.