Three days later!
Portland University, Wisdom Plaza.
Banners fluttered, crowds swarmed!
The annual campus job fair kicked off at Portland University.
Big, small, and mid-sized companies from across the U.S. set up booths, with job-hunting students packed shoulder-to-shoulder.
And among them!
A tiny booth near the north end stole the show.
WindyPeak Games's stand drew the biggest crowd, with a nonstop line of interviewees!
Gus Harper sat under a red WindyPeak banner, glaring at a stack of resumes.
Yup.
WindyPeak joined the campus recruitment game.
Not just because Zoey Parker pushed for it, but because Professor Linden dangled a deal: join the fair, and Gus, Luke Bennett, and Jake Rivers would skip their graduation project defenses, snagging bachelor's degrees and diplomas.
No-brainer.
Since joining WindyPeak, the trio had zero time for theses or defenses.
"Chin up, Director Harper!"
Seeing Gus's sour face, Zoey patted his shoulder, shoving a lollipop in his mouth:
"Look at all these eager students, so fresh and full of life! You can't greet 'em like that—it makes WindyPeak look dead!"
"Want the seat?"
Gus rolled his eyes, half-standing.
"Nope, nope, you're up!"
Zoey grinned awkwardly, pushing him back down.
"I don't know your tech stuff. I'd just mess it up."
Zoey was spooked by interviewing.
She'd only done one real interview—Gus.
Among a million flop ideas, she picked a goldmine.
So far, her "sabotage" netted a measly $100,000 loss.
What if she hired another star?
Disaster.
So, Zoey bailed, handing the interviewer role to Gus.
Gus was stumped.
Of nearly 200 interviewees, 95% flunked.
Of the dozen who passed, only two were decent.
One was Caleb Knox, a classmate from Gus's department.
His name screamed "cheerful," but the guy was a wallflower. Three years in the same program, and Gus barely remembered him.
Still, Caleb was a coding beast, building a high-quality engine solo. Rare talent.
The other? Jade Sierra, a junior with a high ponytail, tattooed arms, and swagger.
Her first words? "Can I get an autograph?"
Gus, used to fan requests, signed a flyer. Zoey smirked.
Then—
Jade pushed it back, blushing: "Uh, I meant Big Jake's autograph."
Zoey cackled, slapping Gus's shoulder, mocking him.
Gus was speechless but dug deeper. Jade's art skills, especially scene design, were epic—grand, steely, futuristic.
Her work didn't scream "junior girl"; it roared high-tech grit.
200 interviews!
Ten made the cut!
Two stood out!
This pass rate had Gus beat.
Sucking the lollipop, he sighed:
"Building a 15–20-person team from campus hires? Tough slog."
Zoey scratched her head, confused.
A cooking game needs that many people?
"Ten plus outsourcing can't hack it?"
"No way," Gus shook his head:
"If those ten were pros who'd crunch, outsourcing could cover it."
"But these are rookies."
"We'd have to babysit them through every step to get 'em project-ready. Time's tight."
"Rough…"
No experience.
Gus's main beef with campus hires.
He wasn't anti-rookie—he was anti-rookie now.
College kids were high-potential, passionate, loyal if rewarded. Perfect for WindyPeak.
But—
PUBG launched next month, diving straight into development. No time to train newbies.
Hand-holding them? Gus wasn't sure he had the energy.
Seeing Gus's gloom, Zoey felt a twinge of guilt.
But mostly glee!
Woo-hoo!
Gus's face screamed project trouble!
Struggling means a crummy game!
Flop city!
That's her ticket to millions!
Zoey shot Gus a fake-sorry look:
Sorry, Boss Harper, not tryin' to stab you in the back, but the system's dangling too much cash!
Hang in there. When I snag that yacht, you're invited aboard!
Then—
Another interviewee plopped down.
Both froze.
The guy was at least 30, plain-looking, in a plaid shirt with a crossbody bag. Total coder stereotype.
"Uh…"
Gus blinked, thrown off.
Two lives' worth of people skills told him this dude wasn't a fresh grad.
His tired eyes screamed years of corporate grind.
"Who're you?" Gus asked.
"Jonah York," the guy said, pulling a resume from his bag, handing it over with both hands:
"My resume, please take a look."
Gus scanned it.
Clean, sharp.
Zoey peeked over, curious—
Name: Jonah York
Age: 33
Hometown: Portland
Experience: 10 years
Education: Bachelor's in Electronic Engineering, Portland University
Work History: Deputy Director of Game Operations, Deputy Director of Game Planning, Game Project Director
What?!
Zoey's brain short-circuited.
Holy crap!
This wasn't some student council VP or art club president.
Deputy Director of Operations! Planning! Project Director!
This was campus recruitment!
Not a job fair for grizzled vets!
Even a Portland University alum was way past his sell-by date after ten years!
Another heavy hitter? Zoey panicked.
"Uh… so… um…"
Zoey flashed an awkward smile at Jonah:
"Sorry, we're after fresh grads. You're…"
But—
Gus's icy voice cut in:
"You've got guts sitting here. Not scared I'll deck you?"
What?!
Zoey's heart skipped.
She'd known Gus forever. Boss Harper was all smiles, chill with everyone, never fazed.
This tone? New.
"Boss Harper," Zoey whispered, patting his back:
"Chill, it's not a big deal. Why the heat?"
To Zoey, Jonah was just overage. No need for Gus to snap.
But—
Gus slapped the resume down, pointing at the "Past Works" section.
Zoey looked.
Three games listed:
Fantasy Conquest, Brothers' Quest, Shell Warriors
Zoey froze.
She might blank on other games, but Brothers' Quest?
That's why she stormed IndieVibe Tech, flipping the art world and roasting Yannick Stone!
Starlight Games had ripped off WindyPeak's Vampire Survivor!
So—
This guy…
Was Nebula Games's old project director?!
Now Zoey got Gus's rage.
Her own brows furrowed as she dropped the resume:
"You're not welcome at WindyPeak."
She waved Jonah off: "Get lost."
But—
Jonah, expecting the cold shoulder, bowed, guilt in his eyes.
Biting his lip, he murmured:
"I… I know it's bold to show up like this."
"But please, give me a minute to pitch myself. Thank you."
Yup.
This "expired graduate" at WindyPeak's booth?
Jonah York, ex-director of Starlight Games, once a mini-game star with Fantasy Conquest, now fallen after Brothers' Quest.
…
Yesterday.
The Asian Esports Game Developers Conference loomed, and PacificTech Council dropped the list of U.S. game studios joining.
WindyPeak's rise screamed ambition for the Asian Games.
Is MFGA taking over Asia? Insiders bet on more FPS from WindyPeak.
"Top pick! What's WindyPeak cooking this time?"
"Innovation on innovation! Reviewers say WindyPeak's size means they gotta reinvent to win!"
In an underground parking lot, Jonah York sat in his beat-up Bora, scrolling his phone.
Headlines slid by.
He sighed.
Half a year ago, WindyPeak was a nobody, while Nebula Games was a T1 mini-game titan.
Now?
WindyPeak was a towering oak, branching into global markets.
Nebula? Nebula Games, barely breathing.
Yup.
After the Vampire Survivor fiasco, IndieVibe Tech yanked all Nebula games.
Nebula parent company sacked Chen Holt, the VP, telling him to hit the road.
They rebranded as StarSpark, signing with Apex Interactive for a brutal 50% commission.
Then, they left it to rot.
The new VP, knowing he was exiled, gave up. His job? Playing card games. His strategy? "Copy."
Post-Vampire Survivor, Nebula churned out five rip-offs in three months.
Shell Warriors got some traction; the rest flopped hard.
The company was a husk—
No spark, no drive, waiting to die.
Jonah knew Nebula was doomed, and he'd be jobless.
Quitting wasn't an option—aging parents, young kids.
Jonah rolled down his window, lit a cigarette, and sighed.
Stand on your own by 30, they say.
He was pushing 35, and not only was he not standing, he was crumbling.
He thought back to his glory days, holding Fantasy Conquest, soaking in media and player cheers.
Why'd it all go downhill?
Scrolling his phone, Jonah stopped—
Big news—WindyPeak announces expansion! Blockbuster game set for Asian Games!