900,000 peak viewers!
$5,000 in gifts!
100,000 new followers!
Top 20 on Twitch!
Muffin stared at her stats, jaw dropped.
"Did someone hack my account? These numbers… they're wrong!"
No, not wrong—insane!
This one night's data matched ten years of her old streams.
"Holy crap, this can't be real!" Muffin raked her hair, freaking out.
PUBG launched on IndieVibe with Eggplant and Old Horse driving hype, backed by PacificTech and Asian Games. She'd hoped for a popularity bump, but this?
This was a rocket launch!
Her mind flashed to a mid-game chat with her coach:
"Coach, your voice is like Old Horse's."
"Yeah, folks say that a lot."
"I'm a huge Old Horse fan—he's hilarious! I wanna stream like him."
"You'll get there. Our stream's killing it—tomorrow, you might be a star."
"Haha, Coach, you're hyping me up…"
Dang it! Her scalp tingled.
She clicked her follow list, found Old Horse Wuhu with the top fan badge, and scrolled to his latest post:
Horse Epic: Gold Medal Coach Mentors Newbie, Duo Cooks Up Chaos!
She clicked. Her own voice blared:
"Wow, you're a beast! Teach me! I'm a news anchor—I can get you on TV!"
Ten seconds of silence.
Muffin screamed, "Screw this! My coach is Old Horse?!"
Her brain short-circuited. Grassland Viper was Old Horse!
And she'd bragged about being a news anchor, promising TV fame?
What the heck did I do?!
As her head spun, a notification pinged.
Old Horse Wuhu: Hey, Muffin, sorry for pulling one over on ya. I'm Grassland Viper, your coach. You've got mad streaming talent. I'm live at 8 AM tomorrow—join me. Had a blast today.
Old Horse Wuhu: Sent a super rocket to your offline channel.
Old Horse chuckled, closed his PC, and crashed for the night.
Across the screen, Muffin clutched her pillow, sobbing. Excitement, joy, past struggles, and sudden fame hit like a tidal wave, overwhelming her.
Late as it was, the glow of success warmed her heart, fueling her resolve.
She wiped her tears and replied: Coach, I'm in! I'll grind hard, and we'll dominate! For sure!
Muffin blew up overnight, like other small streamers riding PUBG's wave. Its gun mods, skydiving, and chaos, polished by Gus Harper's detail obsession, made it a Twitch and Asian Games sensation, with 500K+ copies sold in a week.
Gus's smarts shone. With PUBG's $50M budget—lowest among Crown Award contenders—he skipped fancy visuals, using free mountain maps, and focused on somatosensory polish. While rivals chased explosions, Gus tweaked immersion, sinking overtime into details.
It paid off. Players' deep engagement was the team's ultimate reward.
Oh, and cash. At Tech Tower, Seattle, Zoey Parker held a meeting, roasting Gus for his overtime "treachery," educating the team, then dishing out five months' back pay.
"Never again!" she snapped, ending the meeting.
"VP Zack, Corey, Simon, Liam, Secretary Carter, stay."
Meanwhile, in Portland, IndieVibe's HQ buzzed. Victor Lang wrapped a meeting on PUBG's dominance and PacificTech's Asian Games guidelines for the SkyDome Arena event. With 500K+ weekly sales and Asian hype, PUBG was a lock to host.
Victor tasked his team to sync with WindyPeak Games on venue needs, then shifted gears.
"Alright, you know why you're here," Victor said, door shut. "Asian Games ends in a month. We've done our part. After, it's all about us."
"IndieVibe X2, our gaming cabin, hit a breakthrough—over halfway done, full steam ahead. It's not just for the U.S. market—it's our shot at going global."
"Picking blockbuster titles is key. Thoughts?"
IndieVibe X2, unlike multifunction cabins, was built for gaming, challenging Nebula Games' U.S. dominance and eyeing exports. Victor stripped features, boosting the "full sensory system" with WindyPeak's MOD tech, cutting costs and maxing immersion.
For IndieVibe X2's launch, three blockbusters were ideal: one shooter, one racing, one sports.
Corey Quinn, development head, spoke up. "Fury Games' racing titles own the U.S. market and have global pull. A rally racer—rough mountain tracks—would show off IndieVibe X2's immersion."
Nods all around. Victor agreed. "Solid. Fury Games and us go way back. They'll back us."
He sipped water. "Next?"
Simon Tate, external relations, raised a hand. "How about an overseas partner? NeoSpark in Japan makes killer football games. Perfect for our global push."
Victor nodded. "Smart. Japan's a gaming titan—NeoSpark's a good call."
Simon had considered an American Pro League game but dropped it. "Total bust," he muttered.
Two slots filled: Fury Games for racing, NeoSpark for sports. One left—shooter, domestic.
Everyone knew the pick but hesitated.
Fury Games and NeoSpark were giants, throwing tens of millions at blockbusters. The shooter candidate? WindyPeak Games—small fry who'd barely scraped PUBG together.
"C'mon," VP Zack Olson sighed, breaking the silence. "It's gotta be WindyPeak. But can they even handle a blockbuster?"