The WindyPeak booth, once a forgotten corner of the San Francisco International Convention Center, was now a chaotic hotspot. The USEA's 10th VR Game Design Media Conference roared around it, but all eyes were on the tiny 100-square-foot setup. The $1,000,000 Left 4 Dead 2 trailer looped on the LED, its visceral gunfire and swarming zombies pulling in a growing crowd of media, streamers, and—bizarrely—rival devs.
SlickRick's Twitch stream, synced to a VibeX1 pod, had sparked the initial fire, with Tara Torres from PixelPulse News amplifying it through her glowing coverage. Now, Yin, Jada Brooks, ShuBro, and Pineapple—the Twitch crew—pushed through the crowd, drawn by the buzz.
As the trailer hit its climax, the LED showed four survivors—Coach, Nick, Ellis, Rochelle—battling to an elevator. The screen darkened, the elevator descending into a zombie-filled mall. A voice rasped, "A generous gift… crab," followed by a chainsaw's roar. The title Left 4 Dead 2 flashed, and the booth erupted.
SlickRick's chat exploded:
"What the fuck?! Slick, what is this?!"
"That shooting? I'm dead. Gus, you're insane!"
"No crosshairs? This is next-gen!"
"Why's aiming so damn thrilling?!"
"Every dev ditched their booth for this. WindyPeak's got a cheat code!"
"@GusHarper, drop your system, bro!"
"Petition to play this NOW. 10,000 signatures!"
"This is gonna bankrupt me. Take my wallet!"
The second-gen FPS—iron sights, no crosshairs, raw recoil—blew minds. It wasn't just shooting; it was feeling the gun. The trailer's fast, oppressive zombies, unlike Resident Evil's sluggish undead, hit like a tidal wave.
Yin, stepping out of the crowd, gaped at Gus Harper. "That FPS scene… that's your 'second-gen' mode?"
Gus nodded, grinning. "Yup. Pulled straight from the game, just re-rendered for the trailer."
He shrugged, playing humble. "Wish we had more cash—wouldn't need the render. WindyPeak's small, so this is our best shot for now. But we're leveling up, promise."
The crowd—media, streamers, and rival execs from Qunfeng Games, Meiying Tech, Jiahua Games, and Bluebird Games—burst into applause.
Yin's chat went feral:
"Gus, stop. I'm buying it!"
"PRE-ORDER NOW, DAMMIT!"
"Shut up and take my money!"
"I'm selling my car for WindyPeak!"
"Crowdfund this, I'm donating big!"
"This game's budget must be tens of millions. Elephants couldn't handle this!"
"Y'all are wild, lol."
The hype was electric. Yin, Jada, ShuBro, and Pineapple demanded pod time. The rival devs, reluctant but outranked, vacated the VibeX1 pods. Media had priority, and these streamers were the real deal.
Inside the pods, Yin's team spawned on a rooftop. Yin, as Coach, eyed his teammates: Nick (Jada), Ellis (ShuBro), and Rochelle (Pineapple). They confirmed IDs via mics, then checked the table: four pistols, four medkits, two crowbars, two fire axes. Standard co-op setup.
Yin grabbed a pistol and axe. "Nice weight," he said, swinging the axe. The pistol felt solid, but no crosshairs—just iron sights. Ammo showed on the gun, health on a watch. No minimap. The UI was stripped, making the world stark, real.
Gurgle. Zombie moans drifted from below. Yin swallowed, nerves spiking, as if he were in a real apocalypse. He aimed at nothing, aligning sights. Bang. The recoil hit hard, muzzle flashing, perspective shaking.
"This is too real," Yin muttered. He'd shot at ranges abroad, and this was close—muzzle flash, sound, feedback, all spot-on, though Gus had softened the recoil for playability.
Yin coached the others. "No hip-firing, girls. Aim with sights, or you'll miss."
"Got it!" Jada, ShuBro, and Pineapple chimed, sounding ready.
They pushed into the stairwell. Yin's flashlight lit blood-streaked walls, eerie as hell. Zombie whimpers echoed, ramping up the dread. The trailer's mowing-down-zombies vibe felt distant—now, they were spooked.
Pineapple whispered, "Boss, zombies down there…"
"I hear 'em," Yin said, waving them forward.
They crept downstairs, reaching a fire door. Yin eased it open, peeking into a dim corridor. A lone zombie, back turned, twitched, groaning "guh, wuh."
Yin smirked. "Just one? I was ready for a horde. This is cake."
Chat flooded with question marks:
"You? Ready for a horde? You were shaking!"
"Big talk for a guy who flinched."
"One zombie's your warm-up, huh?"
"Bullying baby zombies, smh."
Yin scoffed, spotting the translucent chat in his pod's corner. "Y'all think I'm flexing? Watch this."
He raised his pistol, aligned sights, and crept toward the zombie. "Check my shot, brothers."
BANG.
The gunshot thundered, the zombie's head bursting in a spray of blood. It crumpled. Yin blew on the barrel, smug. "See that? Gun God Yin, one-shotting. One zombie? Pfft. Bring ten."
He strutted to the corridor's end. "Headshots every time, that's—"
Ho ho.
A rustling stopped him cold. He peeked around the corner. Fifty-plus zombies packed the dim hallway, bloodied faces twitching, eyes locking onto him like sunflowers chasing light, drawn by the shot.
"…Shit," Yin muttered. "Forgot this is WindyPeak. Gus, can your games chill for once?"
Next second, he screamed, bolting back as the horde surged—crawling, tumbling, rabid.
Jada, behind the fire door, snapped up her pistol and fired at the mob. Bang. The shot nailed Yin's thigh.
"What the hell?!" Yin yelped, limping.
Jada waved frantically. "Shoot! Cover the boss!"
"No—wait!" Yin flailed, desperate to stop his trigger-happy team.
Too late. Three muzzles aimed his way. Bang bang bang!