Luke Bennett was numb.
The second Zoey Parker waltzed in, he knew they were screwed.
Zoey was a wildcard, clueless about game dev but ready to back any wild idea Gus Harper pitched.
Sometimes, she'd toss in her own unhinged suggestions.
Now Gus had gone full mad scientist, possessed by some horror-game obsession.
Luke sighed.
Great. The company's top two are nuts.
WindyPeak Games was sprinting toward a cliff.
Soon, the project kickoff meeting began.
Less a "meeting," more a Gus-and-Zoey brainstorm session.
Everyone else was checked out—
Luke was plotting damage control. Maybe I volunteer as project lead. If it flops, I take the hit, not Gus's shiny new 'supernova' rep.
Jake Rivers was scheming visuals. Horror's doomed, but I'll make the models pop. If we're gonna crash, at least the deaths will look sick.
Chloe Quinn was strategizing. Gotta lean on Victor Lang at IndieVibe Tech for max promo. That $80,000 extra can't go to waste.
They scribbled in their notebooks, lost in thought.
Meanwhile, Zoey and Gus were in their own world, chatting like nobody else existed.
Gus figured Zoey didn't know dev but got gamers.
Vampire Survivor's 43,775 single-day sales proved it. Her "nonsense" hit the mark, guiding him to that bullet hell gem.
So he was ready to hear her out again.
Zoey, meanwhile, was in sabotage mode, tossing out ideas to tank the game, banking on horror's dead market to rack up losses.
"…Smaller maps, good call," Gus said, jotting Zoey's latest suggestion in his notebook. "Anything else?"
Zoey propped her chin, thinking hard.
She'd already unloaded her worst ideas:
No weapons—to piss off players who love gear.
Short game length—to ruin the experience.
Tiny maps—to kill exploration.
She'd gutted every horror game strength.
Now she was stumped, glancing around the conference room.
Then—eureka!
"Yo, what if we make it multiplayer?"
Zoey's inner voice cheered. I'm a genius!
Horror games were always solo to build that lonely, helpless vibe.
No teammates, barely any NPCs—just pure dread.
A multiplayer horror game? With two, three, four players?
Not scary at all!
Zoey smirked. She'd gone from game newbie to master saboteur, cracking the genre's core.
Gus froze.
Multiplayer?
Why didn't I think of that?!
He stared at his notebook: no weapons, small maps, short game, multiplayer, max 50,000 emotional points.
It clicked.
Pen in hand, he wrote: Phasmophobia.
Perfect!
Zoey's chaos had cleared his fog.
This multiplayer horror puzzle game once topped Steam, outshining Cyberpunk 2077.
Gotta brainstorm with Zoey more.
His game library was massive; her wild ideas were the key to picking winners.
Gus nodded, satisfied, and looked up. "Got it. Any other ideas?"
Zoey rubbed her temples, out of ammo. "Nah, you take it from here."
The framework was set. Whatever Gus did, it'd flop hard.
Now, budget talk.
Gus estimated Phasmophobia on VibeX1 would cost $500,000 to $800,000.
"Plus the $150,000 landing fee…" He scribbled $1,000,000.
VR was pricey.
He also wanted polish.
Phasmophobia's original was low-budget—stiff characters, janky maps, weak physics.
Gameplay saved it, but Gus aimed higher.
With Zoey's backing, he'd refine it: better visuals, smoother collisions, richer systems.
He also wanted Western horror vibes—ghostly figures, spectral carriages, cursed coins, haunted schools, old mansions, asylums.
Pure WindyPeak terror.
Total cost, minus the landing fee? At least $100,000 more.
But that was his estimate.
He glanced at Zoey, ready for her move.
She didn't disappoint, waving a hand. "A million? For a VR game? Pfft. Two million!"
Gus exhaled. There it is.
Since joining WindyPeak, every game got a bloated budget.
Cat Leo was a stretch at $200,000 with its simple visuals.
But Phasmophobia? Easy to burn cash.
Fancy cloth physics alone would eat a chunk.
More budget meant scarier visuals, scarier visuals meant scarier game.
Gus shrugged.
Not my call if the boss wants it terrifying.