Zoey Parker strutted off the high-speed rail from San Francisco to Portland, practically glowing.
Jackpot!
The game wasn't even a concept yet, and she'd already blown $150,000 on IndieVibe Tech's VibeX1 landing fee.
She'd wanted to go bigger—say, a cool million—but her Investment Rebate System threw a red flag.
A million was way over market rates, screaming "intentional loss."
So, she settled for the top-tier $150,000, matching big dogs like Tokyo-based Komera and CloudWave Tech.
Still a win.
Marching back to Tech Tower, Zoey was like a general fresh off a conquest.
She waved at Chloe Quinn, who was slumping beside her. "Yo, Chloe! Wanna grab a drink? My treat!"
Chloe wanted to scream.
$150,000!
A $70,000 deal, doubled because Zoey felt like flexing.
Chloe sighed, deflated. "Sure. I'll take a Snow Mango from BrewJoy."
She headed toward the trendy BrewJoy shop by the office, its overpriced smoothies a guilty pleasure.
A cold drink might cool her rage.
But Zoey breezed right past, bee-lining for the Frosty King on the other side of Tech Tower's entrance.
She emerged with two lemonades, handing one to Chloe. "Here! Lemonade! Tastes like victory!"
Chloe stared. Seriously?
"You burn an extra $80,000 to play big shot… and treat me to lemonade?"
She shook her cup. "Zoey, our friendship's worth more than four bucks. Couldn't swing some coconut chunks?"
Zoey grinned sheepishly, flashing her phone. Her bank balance: $502.
"Our friendship's priceless, but my card's tapped out," she said, sticking out her tongue. "This month's budget's gone."
Since starting WindyPeak, Mr. Parker had cut her off.
No extra cash beyond the initial $500,000 startup fund for the company.
Her old life of endless shopping sprees? Over. Now she scraped by on her $40,000 monthly CEO salary.
"You've got $40,000 a month!" Chloe said, rolling her eyes. "How're you broke?"
"I dropped $6,000 on that team celebration dinner," Zoey muttered. "Plus, my Portland apartment's $6,500 a month, paid a third upfront. Then food, toilet paper, skincare, masks, water, power, gas, car payments…"
Chloe choked on her lemonade.
Portland's prices were brutal, close to the state capital.
Zoey, born with a silver spoon, had zero concept of budgeting. Back in the day, her card held six figures and a $500,000 limit.
Now? She was a broke heiress, splashing cash like it was water.
Chloe smirked. "Poor little rich girl. Fine, I'll treat next time."
Zoey tugged her arm, raising her lemonade. "Drink this first, or it's a waste."
Chloe raised an eyebrow, then nodded. "Boss, you're sneakily teaching me frugality…"
…
Back at Tech Tower, Gus Harper, Luke Bennett, and Jake Rivers were chilling post-lunch, puffing on cigarettes.
As the saying goes, a smoke after a meal beats enlightenment.
Luke exhaled a cloud, glancing at Gus. "Yo, what'd Zoey want this morning?"
"VR pods," Gus said, sipping his tea. "I pitched the idea, and she was all over it. Dragged Chloe to San Francisco to talk IndieVibe Tech, probably about VibeX1 fees."
"Whoa," Jake said, eyes wide. "Didn't you say our budget can't handle VR R&D yet?"
"Yup," Gus shrugged, wincing. "But Zoey didn't let me finish. Heard 'VR' and greenlit it on the spot."
Gus had a headache.
Jake was right—WindyPeak's two million in liquid funds wasn't enough.
Worse, his Inspiration Points System only had 40,000 emotional points.
To crack the VR market, he needed a banger—Escape, Resident Evil, The Evil Within, Dead Space. Big, bold, story-rich horror with replay value.
But those required six-figure emotional points.
His three games—Cat Leo, Who's the Daddy, Vampire Survivor—were still earning points, but the hype was fading.
No way he'd hit six figures in a couple weeks.
His original plan? Drop a cheap, high-impact game like Dig or Die or I Wanna Be the Guy.
Dig or Die had streamers raging back in his old world, perfect for emotional points.
Then, with a bigger bank, pivot to VR with Escape.
Flawless.
But Zoey's impulsiveness derailed it.
One mention of VR, and she'd gone full speed ahead.
Now Gus was stuck, scanning his system for a horror game under 50,000 points.
Horror Teletubbies? Too many jump scares, players were over it.
Poppy Playtime? Too simple, no staying power.
Five Nights at Freddy's? Too small, low replayability.
It needed to be fresh, fun, replayable.
Tricky…
Gus leaned back, eyes closed, mentally scrolling his system.
Knock knock knock.
Chloe at the door.