What kind of promotion best suits a game like this?
Takayuki had planned it all from the very beginning.
Those early, heavy advertising investments were actually nothing more than smoke bombs—meant to facilitate the acquisition of Mikuford.
Their strategic value far outweighed their promotional value.
The real marketing moment would come only after the game went live.
One month before development was completed, almost every streamer who broadcast video games on Facebook received an advertising offer.
The requirement was simple: stream Fortnite continuously for one week.
It didn't matter how influential the streamer was—everyone received an invitation.Of course, the payment varied depending on the streamer's reach.
Takayuki remembered this vividly: in his previous life, at least half of PUBG's explosive success had been driven by livestreaming.
Since there was already a proven formula for success, why not use it?
In fact, it wasn't just gaming streamers.
Streamers from lifestyle, entertainment, and even music-and-dance categories all received similar offers.
The influence of livestreaming had not yet been fully realized.
Takayuki had previously experimented with using streamers to promote certain games.
Later on, many people mistakenly believed that it was simply Gamestar Electronic Entertainment's overwhelming influence, and that streamers played only a secondary role.
It just so happened that streamers themselves had not yet fully realized their own value—making it possible to save quite a bit on marketing costs.
Dorothy, a small, almost invisible streamer in the music-and-dance category, finished a long and exhausting day of streaming.
She was a bottom-tier streamer, completely unremarkable.
In today's flashy, crowded society, her figure and looks weren't particularly striking—especially in a music-and-dance section full of eye-catching performers. Dorothy was practically transparent.
Fortunately, she still had a few dozen loyal viewers. Their support barely allowed her to keep streaming.
Truth be told, she didn't really know what else she could do.
Streaming was probably the only thing her social anxiety allowed her to attempt.
And because of that same anxiety, she deliberately covered her face even while doing music-and-dance streams—making her even harder to notice.
Exhausted after finishing her work, she didn't want to touch the computer again.
But just then, a notification window popped up.
It was a business inquiry message from Facebook's backend.
Thanks to Facebook Live's mature ecosystem, advertising offers and placements had become extremely streamlined.
Even an unknown small streamer had a chance to receive promotional tasks.
Facebook called this a "benefit-the-bottom-streamers" strategy, designed to greatly boost motivation among small creators.
In practice, it worked extremely well. Facebook had already discovered many excellent streamers through this system.
Streamers could make money, topics gained traction, and the platform maintained its number-one position in the industry. In other sectors as well, Facebook consistently ranked first or second, becoming a top-tier American corporation second only to the Morgan Group.
The moment Dorothy saw the business inquiry, she jumped out of bed.
An advertising invitation meant money.
This was a bonus beyond regular streaming income. She'd been lucky enough to get selected a few times before, each time earning some extra cash.
So she didn't hesitate at all.
"Nintendo livestream invitation? Requirement: continuously stream Fortnite for one month after the game's release. Advertising compensation: $10,000."
Ten thousand dollars.
Dorothy's eyes lit up instantly.
Her usual monthly streaming income was around $3,000.
Her best month had been about $5,000.
This single ad deal alone paid $10,000. Combined with her normal income, making $13,000–14,000 that month wouldn't be a problem at all.
She immediately accepted the invitation with a bright, cheerful smile.
At the company level, this advertising fee was basically pocket change.
But for a bottom-tier streamer like her, it was lifesaving.
At the same time, thousands of other small streamers received similar invitations. Their tasks were identical: continuously play Fortnite during the first month after release.
This was ridiculously easy.
They had to stream anyway—what they streamed wasn't that important. Most of their income came from Facebook's base streamer subsidies and a small amount of viewer donations.
All of them accepted without hesitation.
Some even wished they could start streaming the game immediately, just to get that $10,000 into their pockets faster.
Unfortunately, the game was still one month away from release.
As for the larger, more influential streamers, they also received generous advertising fees—amounts they were more than satisfied with. They too were required to play Fortnite for a full month.
Even if they got sick of it, they had to keep playing.
If they stopped, the advertising fee would be completely withheld.
One month passed quickly.
On the surface, everything seemed calm.
Suri Electronics reacted more strongly than others.
They had been closely monitoring Nintendo's movements from the very beginning.
What surprised them was that Fortnite launched after just three months of development.
And it was completed by only a little over a hundred people.
A game like that… could it really be any good?
Many inside Suri Electronics were skeptical.
Some even began to suspect that the indie developer was trying to scam money from old man Lorenzo.
By age, Lorenzo had to be close to eighty, right?
Maybe he'd had a moment of confusion?
Otherwise, how could a rational person do something this outrageous—throwing money in so decisively, barely asking for returns?
That thirty percent equity stake was probably going to be completely worthless.
As a result, Suri Electronics relaxed slightly.
After all, this really did seem absurd.
The early marketing was so aggressive, as if this were going to be a once-in-a-generation masterpiece.
Yet the total development cycle was only three months.
That was ridiculous. There was absolutely no sign of a top-tier blockbuster.
In truth, Takayuki never expected Fortnite to be a "masterpiece."
The game's strength lay in its ability to spread.
In terms of reputation, it was always somewhat controversial—but it constantly attracted waves of new players.
Later on, through seasonal story modes and collaborations with various brand IPs, its popularity stayed consistently high.
From the very beginning, Takayuki positioned this game to have influence first, and profitability second.
It needed enough influence to convince everyone.
To make people believe that this company acquiring Mikuford's game division was reasonable—and that it shouldn't be acquired at too high a price.
Everything.
All of it.
Was just groundwork.