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Titan Games Headquarters
"Infinite Realms' review department has always been efficient. Suppliers of our caliber should have priority processing. How is this STILL not approved?" Brandon Sterling was genuinely annoyed.
His company had been working overtime recently, churning out five reskinned Battle Royale variants with copied gameplay—just waiting to capitalize on the hype and print money. Yet Infinite Realms' review process was moving at a glacial pace. Three days and still nothing.
"I already had someone call to inquire," said VP Marcus beside him.
Knock, knock.
The office door opened. A male employee walked in, his expression grim.
"Mr. Sterling, we got official word. Any content suspected of copying Death Race gameplay will not be approved. Period."
"WHAT?!" Brandon shot up from his chair, face full of shock. Marcus's expression went through several colors, settling on confused horror.
"Not just our submissions—apparently ALL content worldwide suspected of copying Death Race mechanics is being rejected," the employee continued.
"Are you fucking KIDDING me?" Brandon's face darkened. He felt like he'd just swallowed a fly.
He didn't know about other companies, but when it came to copying Death Race, Titan had gone ALL IN. Fully invested, serious, diligent work.
To rush the development process, Titan employees had worked insane overtime. They'd even temporarily shelved multiple ongoing projects, dedicating all their energy to creating Death Race knockoffs.
They'd successfully produced five different themed variants in just over a month.
And now, just as he was preparing to collect that sweet cash, he got this news.
All rejected. Every single one.
This was like having a steak dangling in front of your mouth, only to have someone snatch it away AND punch you in the face for good measure. The frustration was unbearable.
Brandon contacted his connections within Infinite Realms' North American division, carefully fishing for accurate information. He learned that corporate headquarters, in order to protect the Death Race championship format, had implemented forced protection of its original gameplay mechanics. Any content suspected of plagiarism or imitation would be prohibited—no room for negotiation, no exceptions.
This meant all the knockoffs Titan had developed were completely dead in the water. Even if they temporarily modified the gameplay to be less obvious, it would likely still be rejected.
"Goddammit, I calculated everything but never saw THIS coming!" Brandon was absolutely fuming. He'd never imagined Infinite Realms would make such a decision—directly protecting Death Race's gameplay to maintain the racing esports format's integrity.
While Infinite Realms' decision made many copycat developers frustrated and resentful, it made developers who insisted on original content applaud and feel vindicated.
These original creators even regarded Alex Morrison and Stormwind Studios as role models, further solidifying their creative philosophy that originality was king.
The news spread quickly among players too. Gamers praised Infinite Realms, believing the platform should strictly control content approval, act as a quality filter, and eliminate shovelware reskins and copycat garbage.
This would encourage developers to actually put effort into creating quality content rather than just chasing profit. Only then could genuinely good games be born, instead of endless homogenized copycats with overused mechanics.
Under official protection and promotion, Death Race had reached a level of popularity other developers could only dream about. It was breaking data records constantly, setting new benchmarks across multiple metrics.
To meet overwhelming player demand, Stormwind Studios had transferred all staff from the Fast & Furious project team.
They were now fully dedicated to Death Race—gameplay optimization, iterative improvements, innovation, designing new items and cosmetic skins.
And they'd accelerated development on Team Deathmatch mode...
Time flew. New York had entered peak summer. The midday sun was absolutely brutal—stand in direct sunlight too long and you could smell yourself cooking.
"Delicious," Alex said, picking up a piece of grilled Wagyu beef and savoring it slowly, his expression satisfied.
This world-class beef was expensive as hell—each bite was like eating a hundred-dollar bill. But each bite was also the ultimate taste bud experience.
"Come on, let's have another!" Jake raised his beer glass.
"Danny, fill 'em up!"
Alex, Jake, and Danny clinked glasses together. The cold beer went down smooth, incredibly refreshing in the summer heat.
"Have you decided on a team name yet? You're not seriously calling yourselves 'Team Jake,' are you?" Alex asked with a grin.
"Haha, I originally wanted something cool that represented our friendship, but then I realized it needs to work internationally—we'll be competing against players worldwide. I've thought of a few options but haven't decided yet," Jake laughed.
"Better hurry. City qualifiers are opening for registration soon."
"I'll finalize it in the next few days."
"Jake, good luck! You HAVE to bring back the championship," Danny said seriously. "It's a game we developed ourselves. The championship can't go to another country!"
"Don't worry. The championship is definitely ours," Jake said confidently. Currently, seven of the top ten players in the North American region were on his team. He naturally felt very confident.
Plus with him and Alex as two powerful coaches, it was unlikely any team in the world had more advantages.
"Don't get cocky though," Alex said while flipping beef on the grill. "I've watched videos of the top international players. They're legitimately strong."
"Yeah, I'm planning to contact some European and Asian teams soon for practice matches."
"Good idea. By the way, is Kevin still insisting on entering the solo competition?"
"Yeah. I studied his gameplay carefully—he's genuinely better suited for individual competition. His personal ability is outstanding."
"I'm really looking forward to seeing their performance in the arena. It's gonna be incredible."
"Anyway, stop talking about me," Jake said, pointing his beer at Alex. "When's your new game dropping? I'm waiting to play it!"
"Soon. Official promotional campaign starts in a few days," Alex said.
"Are you confident you can challenge ET's mech dominance?" Jake asked.
"Honestly? I'm a little nervous," Alex admitted truthfully. He genuinely wasn't entirely sure if the Iron Man suit could shake ET Games' stranglehold on mech-type equipment.
But he didn't particularly stress about it. The Avengers content wasn't purely a mech-focused game anyway. Iron Man's armor would be one of several main items, and the positioning was completely different from ET's military mechs—there wasn't really direct comparability.
It's just that people were inevitably going to make comparisons. When they saw mechs in someone's content, especially as main character equipment, they'd automatically benchmark against ET Games. That was unavoidable.
But Alex was playing a longer game. Iron Man was just the beginning.
Wait until they saw the Hulkbuster. Wait until they saw the full Marvel roster.
ET Games had no idea what was coming.
Plz Throw Powerstones.