A/N: Sorry for late update, my internet provider had decide to pull a prank on me for a whole day.
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Bele Zaln stood near the edge of the grand, velvet-draped lobby of the Cyris Orbital Station, casually swirling a flute of incredibly expensive champagne.
She was a prominent critic who had recently garnered a massive, highly influential following across the galactic net. Uniquely, Bele covered both the traditional film industry and the interactive gaming sphere. In both community, she was notoriously feared. Her column was often dubbed the "Rotten Reviews" because almost every single game and film she touched was subjected to her ruthlessly analytical, hyper-critical eye, resulting in dismal scores that made studio executives weep.
But Round Table Studio had completely broken her rotten chain.
Stardew Valley, Hades, Pokémon, and the mind-bending historical stealth of Assassin's Creed. Every single one of them had forced Bele to give them glowing, unprecedentedly high scores.
And now, the elusive Arthur Pendragon had suddenly decided to make a movie. He was stepping directly into her primary domain.
As she sipped her champagne and watched the high-society journalists and veteran film critics mingle around her, she couldn't help but feel a deep sense of protective skepticism. These people didn't really know who Arthur Pendragon was. To them, he was just a nameless amateur. But Bele knew him. She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the man possessed a terrifying level of creative genius.
But a movie was fundamentally different from a video game.
In a game, a creator had the luxury of interactivity. You could easily draw a player in by giving them a controller, allowing them to dictate the pacing, control the protagonist, and become physically invested in the world.
But a film offered no such crutch. A movie had to be perfectly concise. It demanded flawless pacing, meticulous framing, and the ability to grip a passive audience by the throat for two straight hours without ever letting them take the wheel.
If Arthur could deliver even half of the polished narrative brilliance he put into his games, this movie could easily be considered a masterpiece. But could he actually do it in a non-interactive medium?
A soft, melodic chime echoed through the grand lobby, signaling that the first two screening theaters were officially opening their doors.
Bele shook her head, pulling herself out of her thoughts. Why was she overthinking this now? Spirited Away wasn't scheduled until the very last day of the festival anyway. Right now, she had a more immediate problem: looking at the golden ticket in her hand and deciding which of today's two concurrent, highly-anticipated indie films she was going to watch and write a review about.
And so, the days of the festival passed, the galactic anticipation growing to a fever pitch with every passing cycle.
…
Outside the exclusive walls of the Cyris station, the Avalon forums were entirely consumed by the upcoming premiere. The boards were flooded with all sorts of posts. Some users were breaking down the gorgeous, hand-drawn 2D poster pixel by pixel, while others were crafting wild, sprawling theories about the plot based entirely on the title Spirited Away.
But over the course of the week, one particular post garnered a massive, controversial amount of traction. It focused on the logistics of the movie's distribution, and birthed a rumor that refused to die.
[Avalon Forums - General Entertainment]
[Thread: Is the Percival credit on Spirited Away actually FAKE?!]
> CineSleuth_99:
Okay, hear me out. I have a buddy who works as a data-sorter for Titan Horizon in the Core Rim. He told me that "Spirited Away" by Lady in the Lake Productions was submitted to their distribution board MONTHS ago... and it was rejected. But here is the kicker: the original submission sheet had NO composer listed. It was completely blank. Now suddenly it's at Cyris, and Percival is magically the lead composer?
> Void_Watcher:
Wait, are you saying what I think you're saying?
> CineSleuth_99:
I'm saying the movie was probably passed around and rejected by every distributor in the galaxy because it's a 2D animated film from a gaming studio. Arthur Pendragon got desperate. He used his infinite money to pay Percival an astronomical sum just to lend his name to the project so it would get past the Cyris committee filters. Percival probably didn't even write the score. It's paid clout.
The theory spread like absolute wildfire. And unfortunately, the rumor didn't die down, entirely because of the sheer lack of PR control from the creators themselves. Both Arthur and Percival were notoriously mysterious figures who rarely, if ever, made direct statements on social media to defend themselves.
Arthur's silence, in particular, only fueled the fire. He was an absolute enigma. He never attended galas, he never showed his face on Stellarcast, and the galaxy didn't even know what race he was. He was a ghost with a limitless bank account.
> RealityCheck_01:
Honestly? I agree with the rumor. RTS has made trillions off their games. We literally saw Gil Nothos come out of retirement for a concert several years ago. Everyone has a price. Arthur definitely just bought Percival's name for the poster.
> LoreNerd99:
You guys are incredibly cynical. Have you ever considered that maybe Percival played Pokémon, loved the music, made a COVER of said music, and actually WANTED to work with Arthur? Genius recognizes genius.
> CodeMiner77:
I don't care if Arthur paid Percival with a mountain of solid gold. RTS games have the best soundtracks in the industry. If they actually teamed up, my ears are ready to ascend to a higher dimension.
But beneath the vicious debates, the skepticism, and the wild conspiracy theories, a single, unifying sentiment echoed across the entire galactic net.
The Cyris Film Festival was strictly invite-only. There were no public tickets available. Millions of everyday citizens, gamers, and music fans were locked out of the biggest premiere of the decade.
> CasualDan:
Look, fake score or not, I just hope to the Olympian Gods that some major distributor at the festival actually buys the theatrical rights to this thing. I just want to watch the damn movie.
…
And so, the highly anticipated day of the Gala Premieres finally arrived.
The Cyris Orbital Station was a blinding sea of flashing cameras and extravagant wealth. Tonight, the brutal concurrent screening schedule featured two vastly different films battling for the attendees' attention: the highly publicized epic Journey to Axion, and the mysterious, 2D-animated wildcard, Spirited Away.
Stepping onto the plush, crimson red carpet, Lina Rov felt like she was going to throw up.
The young voice actress who brought Chihiro to life had never stepped foot on a stage of this magnitude. In fact, she felt entirely out of place. Moving to the glittering planet of Sela a year ago hadn't magically turned her into a superstar like the holonet stories promised. The reality of the entertainment industry was grueling, unforgiving, and deeply demoralizing.
Spirited Away had actually been scheduled to be her very last gig. She had fully accepted that she just wasn't cut out for the industry. She had already drafted the conversation in her head, preparing to tell her parents that she was quitting acting to go back to college and pursue a stable, traditional education.
Just a few weeks ago, she had literally been in the middle of her shift, carrying a tray of dirty glasses as a server in a mid-level diner, when her comms chimed with the impossible news that Spirited Away had been selected for the Cyris Festival.
Now, she was standing under the blinding lights of the galaxy's most prestigious film event. It was, without a doubt, the most nerve-wracking moment of her entire life.
Suddenly, she felt a warm, supportive hand gently squeeze her shoulder.
She turned and saw her parents. She had brought them along as her official plus-ones. Seeing their proud, beaming faces grounded her, and the anxious teen managed to force a genuine smile.
She looked further down the carpet and spotted a few familiar faces. The veteran voice actor who had played Chihiro's dad was giving an interview nearby. A few paces away stood Ravee, the talented young voice actor who played Haku. Lina happily waved her hand, and Ravee immediately beamed, waving back before jogging over to join them.
The cast was eventually ushered away from the flashing cameras and led into the exclusive gala waiting room.
The moment the heavy acoustic doors closed, Lina's mother leaned in, her eyes darting around the luxurious room like an excited teenager. "Lina, sweetie," her mom whispered excitedly. "When exactly does Composer Percival arrive? Do you know where he is sitting?"
Lina couldn't help but chuckle. Her mom was an absolute, die-hard fan of the masked prodigy. She had even brought a pristine, limited-edition poster in her designer handbag, desperately hoping to get Percival to sign it.
"I don't know, Mom," Lina smiled gently. "I've heard he's very private."
Just then, her dad returned from the grand buffet tables, carrying a small, elegant porcelain plate filled with hors d'oeuvres. "Look at this!" he whispered, his eyes wide. "They are serving snacks made entirely from Kepler-grade ingredients!"
Lina's eyes widened slightly. Over the last few years, a massive, unprecedented trend has taken high society slowly. An ultra-premium agricultural grade known simply as 'Kepler Grade' had begun quietly supplying the absolute highest echelon of planetary elites.
The ingredients, which were supposedly grown in completely natural, un-synthesized soil were a massive status symbol of immense wealth and pristine health.
Several A-list celebrities had even publicly flaunted their exclusive "Kepler-grade diets," a luxury that a standard-income citizen couldn't possibly hope to afford.
But despite the incredible food, the overarching vibe in the waiting room was terrifyingly serious. It was a room filled with apex predators. Everywhere Lina looked, there were titans of the industry. With just one step to her left, she could overhear a studio executive casually talking about a multi-million credit distribution deal. It was a world completely alien to her.
Several minutes later, a sharply dressed usher approached the cast. It was time. They were being escorted to the premium back-screen theater assigned to Spirited Away.
As they walked down the gilded hallway, Lina's hands began to shake again. The Cyris format was brutal. Because Journey to Axion was premiering at the exact same time, attendees had to actively choose which theater to walk into. What if their theater was completely empty? What if everyone went to see the other movie instead?
Sensing her panic, Ravee gently tapped her shoulder, offering a comforting, easygoing smile to take the edge off.
"Hey, don't sweat it," Ravee whispered. "We did great work. Have you happened to see Arthur around yet?"
Lina shook her head. "No. But directors usually come in right when the movie is about to start. I'm not worried. He's our director; he will definitely be here."
The usher pulled open the heavy theater doors.
Lina's breath completely caught in her throat.
The theater was absolutely packed. Every single plush velvet seat was occupied. As the voice cast was led down the aisle toward their reserved front-row seating, the audience, comprised of critics, journalists, and powerful distributors in the galaxy offered a warm, highly respectful round of polite applause.
Lina sat down next to Ravee and her parents, her heart hammering against her ribs.
The lights began to dim. The ambient chatter faded into a thick, palpable silence. Every single pair of eyes in the room shifted away from the screen and locked directly onto the side entrance door.
They were all waiting for him. The critics, the executives, Elah Tan of NovaFrame Pictures, the legendary Hain Zossare, they were all holding their breath, waiting for the elusive, highly secretive visionary, Arthur Pendragon, to finally reveal himself to the galaxy.
The heavy side door clicked open.
A collective gasp echoed through the theater as a man in a sharp corporate suit walked in. But it wasn't Arthur. It was Raja Farzir. And in his hands, he carried a small, exquisite velvet pillow. Resting perfectly in the center of the pillow was a sleek, metallic holographic puck.
Raja stepped up to the front podium, gently placing the pillow down. He tapped the puck once.
Vzzzt!
A brilliant column of blue, hard-light particles violently blitzed into existence. The light rapidly coalesced, forming the solid, towering projection of a man clad in gleaming silver armor and a flowing blue cape. His fiery red hair glimmered vibrantly under the theater lights.
It was Gawain, "Greetings," the A.I. knight announced, his aristocratic voice echoing perfectly through the silent theater. "I'm here on behalf of Round Table Studio and Lady in the Lake Productions."
The holographic projection of Gawain stood tall at the front of the theater. But suddenly, the audio feed completely shifted, replaced by a warm, deeply human, and incredibly familiar voice.
Lina gasped softly, her hands flying to her mouth. Ravee and the other voice actors exchanged wide-eyed, stunned looks. They knew that voice instantly. It was the gentle, endlessly patient voice that had guided them through months of grueling recording sessions inside the audio booths.
It was Arthur.
"Apologies, my fellow artists," Arthur's voice echoed through the grand theater, carrying a tone of genuine, heartfelt regret. "I'm deeply sorry that I cannot make it there to sit among you today. But I promise you, I will be there in person for the Cyris press conference next week. Until then, please enjoy the journey."
The holographic knight offered one final, sweeping bow before the projection collapsed back into the metallic puck.
Raja Farzir smoothly stepped forward, picking up the velvet pillow. He offered a polite nod to the crowd before taking the empty director's seat right next to the cast.
A wave of sparse, incredibly polite applause rippled through the theater. But beneath the clapping, harsh whispers instantly broke out among the critics and executives.
'He didn't show up?''Where is Percival?''The rumors must be true. Lady in the Lake definitely just paid Percival to slap his name on the poster.'
But the whispers abruptly died in their throats as the heavy theater doors locked shut and the screen faded to black.
The movie began.
Within the very first minute, the skeptical audience was completely blindsided. As the lonely, melancholic piano notes of the opening scene trickled through the surround sound, every single music critic and audiophile in the room experienced a profound, terrifying realization. It didn't matter whether it was genuinely Percival or not. Whoever had composed this score was operating on the exact same level as him.
The sheer mastery of the 2D animation seized the room, dragging the high-society audience into a world of impossible imagination.
When Chihiro's parents sat down at the abandoned stall and began violently, grotesquely transforming into massive, gluttonous pigs, a collective, horrified gasp swept through the velvet seats.
Lina's mother aggressively gripped Lina's arm, leaning over with wide, terrified eyes. "Sweet stars above... what is wrong with the writer of this film, Lin?!" she whispered frantically.
Lina just smiled, patting her mother's shaking hand.
The story rapidly expanded. The audience was dragged deeper into the spirit realm, watching in awe as Chihiro was forced to sign away her very identity to the terrifying witch Yubaba, her name physically stolen from the paper to become 'Sen'.
They laughed out loud at the brilliant, charming world-building in the boiler room. When Chihiro helped a struggling little Soot Sprite carry a heavy piece of coal, the entire swarm of magical soot creatures immediately dropped their own coal, hilariously faking being crushed so the human girl would do all their grueling work for them.
Sitting a few rows back, Bele Zaln, the notoriously ruthless critic, was leaning so far forward she was practically falling out of her seat. Her analytical mind was entirely short-circuiting. 'Who is this Arthur?' she thought frantically. 'Where does a mind like this come from? To seamlessly blend profound psychological horror with such boundless, whimsical creativity?' A few seats away, Elah Tan was currently having the most transcendent cinematic experience of her entire life.
The CEO of NovaFrame Pictures completely forgot about the profit margins, the distribution rights, and the brutal reality of her failing company. She deeply connected with Chihiro's suffocating struggle to survive in a corporate machine that actively wanted to consume her.
And then, the movie reached its emotional zenith. The train scene.
On the screen, Chihiro, the masked entity No-Face, and Yubaba's small familiars sat in uninterrupted silence. The train gently glided over the flooded, sunlit tracks. The only sound in the theater was the rhythmic clack-clack of the wheels and the soft, heartbreakingly beautiful orchestral score.
Elah Tan felt a sudden tear slip down her cheek. It was a breath of fresh cinematic air she never even knew she needed.
She was suddenly reminded of everything she had experienced in her own long, grueling career. It was incredibly weird. According to the strict, established rules of Accord filmmaking, a movie should never be structured this way.
A feeling of deep reflection was supposed to be felt after the movie was over, when the audience was walking back to their transports. But Spirited Away actively defied that rule. It halted its own plot to force the audience to sit and reflect alongside the protagonist while the movie was still playing.
Elah couldn't help but smile through her tears.
This was it. This was a masterpiece that the entire galaxy desperately needed to see. As she listened to the melancholic piano, a deep wave of self-reflection washed over her. 'Am I even worthy to be the distributor for this?' she asked herself, looking at her shaking hands. 'Maybe I am not cut out to be in this cutthroat industry in the first place.'
But as Chihiro stepped off the train, her resolve hardening, Elah's own determination flared back to life. She wanted to try. She didn't care what it cost; she was going to march into that press conference and fight to talk to Arthur Pendragon. She just wanted to share this great movie with the universe.
The movie reached its breathtaking end.
The screen faded to black. The final, floating piano chord hung heavily in the air, slowly decaying into absolute nothingness.
For a long, heavy moment, the theater was trapped in suffocating, awe-struck silence. The automated lights slowly lit up.
And then, the room completely exploded.
Thunderous, deafening applause erupted from the audience. The hardened critics, the cynical executives, and the jaded journalists leapt to their feet. The spotlight aggressively snapped to the front row, highlighting Raja, Gawain's metallic puck, and the utterly overwhelmed voice cast.
Lina Rov stood up, tears streaming down her face as the titans of the galactic film industry gave her a roaring standing ovation.
On the other side of the theater, still sitting in her chair while the crowd cheered around her, Bele Zaln slowly closed her eyes. She let out a long, shuddering breath, her mind completely shattered.
'What...' the critic asked herself in pure, unadulterated awe. 'What the fuck did I just watch?'
…
A full week had passed since the Cyris Orbital Station had dimmed the lights on its grandest theater.
Safely isolated in her luxurious apartment back on Sela, Bele Zaln sat in front of her glowing terminal. Her fingers hovered over the holographic keyboard.
For years, she had built her entire reputation on tearing media apart. The galactic public largely assumed she simply hated blockbuster films, accusing her of handing out rotten scores purely for the fame, the viral clicks, and the controversial engagement.
But the truth was far more tragic: she genuinely, deeply loved the medium of film, and she was utterly exhausted by how soulless and commercially calculated it had become. She was a jaded critic searching for a spark in a galaxy of manufactured plastic.
Playing Round Table Studio's games had recently given her that spark. Titles like Hades, Stardew Valley, and Pokémon had proved to her that the interactive gaming industry could stand tall on its own two feet as a pinnacle of art.
But Arthur Pendragon stepping into traditional, non-interactive cinema was a different beast entirely.
For seven straight days, Bele had pondered. She had delayed her weekly column, sitting in her quiet apartment, completely unable to shake the lingering, haunting magic of the spirit realm from her mind. She had needed a full week just to process the sheer weight of what she had experienced.
Taking a deep breath, the jaded critic finally pressed her fingers to the keys, and began to write a love letter to a masterpiece.
===
[Review - Special Cyris Festival Edition]
Title: The Ghost in the Machine: How a Gaming Studio Resurrected Cinema
By: Bele Zaln
Score: 10/10 (Masterpiece)
To my loyal readers, I know exactly what you are expecting. You are expecting me to tear apart Spirited Away. You are expecting me to mock Arthur Pendragon for stepping out of his lane, and to dismiss Composer Percival's involvement as a cheap stunt to bypass the festival judges.
I cannot do that. Because last week, the galactic film industry was permanently humbled by a video game developer.
Spirited Away isn't just a film; it's a profound, meticulously crafted mirror held up to the galaxy's soul. I refuse to spoil the intricate magic of this narrative, but I must highlight three thematic choices that prove Arthur Pendragon is a visionary.
The Cleansing of the Uncleanable
Without detailing the exact creature involved, there is a sequence midway through the film where the protagonist is forced to clean a hulking, oozing mass of sludge. At first glance, it appears to be a chaotic, gross-out comedy. A slapstick struggle to finish an impossible chore.
But beneath the surface, it rapidly transforms into an agonizing indictment of societal carelessness. It's a visceral scene that forces the audience to physically confront the ugly, rotting consequences of industrialization and environmental neglect, disguised flawlessly as a magical task.
A Quiet Meal in the Garden
In modern cinema, directors constantly force their protagonists forward. Action, action, action. But Arthur understands a person's capacity for emotional exhaustion.
In one of the quietest, most devastating scenes of the film, a supporting character simply hands our young protagonist a basic meal in a garden. And as she eats it, she begins to sob. She doesn't scream or deliver a heroic speech. She just cries heavy tears of pure exhaustion.
By giving her the physical space to finally break down, Arthur grounds a wildly fantastical film in undeniable psychological realism. He reminds us that beneath the bravery, she is just a terrified child.
The Silent Transit
This is the defining moment of the film for me, and perhaps the greatest sequence I have ever witnessed in my career as a critic. Late in the film, several characters board a transit vehicle. They sit in absolute silence as it glides over a flooded, endless expanse.
The pacing violently slows to a crawl. The dialogue entirely ceases. And then, Percival's phenomenally melancholic piano score takes over the audio mix. In any traditional script, this sequence would be cut immediately because it does not advance the physical plot.
But Arthur understands that while it doesn't advance the plot... it advances the soul of the film. It gives the audience, and the protagonist, a necessary, real-time moment to breathe, to process the preceding trauma, and to genuinely reflect on the journey.
Spirited Away is not a movie you simply watch. It is a world you survive, process, and ultimately learn to cherish.
===
Bele stopped typing. She read through the review one last time, her heart still aching with the residual emotion of the piano score echoing in her memory.
With a firm, decisive tap, she hit [Publish].
The notification bells across the Avalon forums and social media timelines rang out in pure, unfiltered chaos. The most cynical, notoriously harsh critic in the Stellar Accord, a jaded woman who had famously given a billion-credit sci-fi epic a 3/10 just last month had taken an entire week of radio silence just to process a 2D animated indie film... and had returned to give it a perfect, flawless score.
The rumors of Arthur Pendragon buying Percival's name instantly shattered. The doubt evaporated. The gaming community roared in absolute triumph, flooding the timelines with Stardew Valley, Pokémon, and RTS memes, proudly declaring that their beloved CEO had just walked into the prestigious Cyris Festival and conquered the high-art snobs on his first try.
The film industry was officially on notice. Lady in the Lake had arrived.
⋘ 𝒍𝒐𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒂.. .⋙
🎮:
- Stardwey Valley: Completed.
- Hades: Completed.
- Pokémon: Completed.
- Assassin Creed: Completed.
- Sky: Children of the Light: 100%██████████ Loading...
🎬:
- Spirited Away: Completed.
♬:
- Your Song – Elton John (ch.9)
- A Lovely Night – La La Land (ch.20)
- Merry Go Round of Life – Howl's Moving Castle (ch.25)
- Small Fragile Hearts – Victor Lundberg (ch. 27)
- Skyfall – Adele (ch. 29)
- No Time To Die – Billie Eilish (ch. 30)
- Yesterday – The Beatles (ch. 32)
- Lovely – Billie Eilish, Khalid (ch. 47)
- Best Part – H.E.R. feat. Daniel Caesar (ch. 67)
- Lovely Day – Bill Withers (ch. 68)
- My Song – Labi Siffre (ch. 75)
- Isn't She Lovely – Stevie Wonder (ch. 89)
- Gotta Catch 'Em All – Pokémon OST (ch. 90)
- Don't Stop Me Now – Queens (ch. 102)
- Grow As We Go – Ben Platt (ch. 102)
- Feeling Good – Michael Bublé (ch. 104)
- You'll Be In My Heart – Phil Collins (ch. 105)
- We Will Rock You – Queen (ch. 108)
- The Bones – Maren Morris feat. Hozier (ch. 110)
- Achilles, Come Down – Gang Of Youths (ch. 111)
- Wind of Change – Scorpions (ch. 113)
- From The Start – Laufey (ch. 126)