Blake's breath caught in his throat.
Holy shit. Delta Force.
Sure, Delta Force wasn't the most graphically impressive game from his previous life — but god, was it addictive. The kind of addictive where you told yourself "one more match" at 2 AM and suddenly the sun was coming up. And that was in a world saturated with games competing for attention.
In this barren wasteland of a gaming industry? With graphics that would blow everything else out of the water? An FPS with extraction mechanics and large-scale battlefield modes — concepts that literally didn't exist here yet?
This thing was going to print money.
But he couldn't just let the Constructs build it as-is. The original developers had a... reputation. Players jokingly called them "Cockroach Studio" — great at making games, absolutely terrible at squashing bugs. Delta Force was already a banger, but if Blake was going to bring it to this world, he might as well polish it into something even better.
"Mr. Weiss, I have a game design studio that could assist with your development work."
Ivy's voice snapped him back to reality. He shelved his Delta Force daydreams for now.
"Thanks, but I've actually got my own team," Blake said. "Guys I've known forever. They might not have much going for them otherwise, but their design skills are top-notch. Almost as good as mine, honestly."
Ivy's eye twitched behind her mask. Blake Weiss's design skills. Right. The man who made Infinite Scrolling. But hey — if his team was on the same level, that meant more beautifully abstract garbage for her loss quota. Win-win.
"Is that so?" She kept her voice neutral. "That's reassuring. You come with your own studio attached — very efficient. What's the team called?"
"Rise Beyond," Blake said without missing a beat. "Horizon Interactive."
Something about that name hit different. Ivy couldn't quite put her finger on it, but it sounded... annoyingly legitimate.
"And the team size?" she pressed. "I've only accounted for your salary. The others might feel left out."
Blake did some quick mental math. Six Constructs currently operational. "Six people total."
"Perfect. How about six thousand a month for each of them? As a gesture of good faith."
Shit. The Constructs couldn't exactly show up to collect paychecks. Blake scrambled for an excuse.
"They're, uh... pretty introverted. Hate meeting new people. Plus they're not local — nowhere near Bayview."
Ivy's internal celebration was immediate. A scattered team of anxious shut-ins? This keeps getting better. A "studio" like that was basically guaranteed to produce more premium-grade shovelware.
"No problem at all," she said smoothly. "Supporting employees is what good leadership is about. Even if they can't come to Bayview, salaries will be paid. Since they're so introverted, I'll just wire everything to your account."
Nice.
"Oh, by the way—" Ivy tilted her head. "You mentioned releasing a game today, didn't you?"
Blake nodded. "You can just call me Blake, by the way. And yeah — my team put something out. Consider it a trial run, but the quality's solid."
He pulled out his laptop, fired up Steam, and turned the screen toward her.
"Desert Bus. Currently number seven on the New Releases chart. Almost twenty-nine thousand sales. Over seven thousand people playing right now."
He leaned back with a hint of pride. "Pretty solid numbers for an indie title with zero marketing budget."
Ivy stared at the screen. Her confident smile faltered slightly.
Wait. Nearly thirty thousand sales?
Steam didn't count refunds in those numbers. And the reviews were overwhelmingly positive. A game released less than a day ago, already crushing it...
Did I actually stumble onto someone talented?
No — wait. That's the opposite of what I need.
"Mind showing me the actual game?" she asked, keeping her voice casual. "Also, just call me Ivy. The whole 'Ms. Harper' thing gets exhausting."
"Sure."
Blake clicked Start Game. The loading screen faded to reveal an endless stretch of golden desert, a lonely highway cutting through it, and a beat-up blue bus waiting by the roadside.
Ivy watched intently, her mind racing.
Graphics look good. Really good. And it's some kind of driving sim?
Did I actually find a diamond in the rough?
...Wait, no. Finding talent is literally the worst thing that could happen to me.
But as the gameplay unfolded — or rather, didn't unfold — her panic subsided.
Oh. Oh, this is just "Infinite Scrolling" with a car. The graphics are pretty, but the actual game is still abstract nonsense.
The sales are probably just because of that song everyone's talking about.
She'd skimmed the reviews earlier. Something called "See You Again" had apparently reduced half the internet to tears. Not really her thing — she was barely twenty and didn't have some deep brotherhood bond to get nostalgic about — but she could recognize the song's appeal.
So it's all smoke and mirrors. The "game" is garbage; the music is carrying everything.
Perfect.
The weight lifted from her chest. And right on cue, her system chimed in.
[Main Quest Completed: Recruit a universally recognized bad game designer and help him create a game with explosive (negative) reputation]
[Quest Progress: Designer contacted (Blake Weiss). Game created: Desert Bus]
[Evaluating game quality...]
[Gameplay Assessment: Chocolate-coated garbage. Smells great at first, reveals itself as a steaming pile the longer you play.]
[Music Assessment: S-Tier]
[Note: This system evaluates only gameplay and graphics. Music and other elements do not affect quest completion.]
[Quest Completion: 73%][Deduction: -27% (Graphics exceeded acceptable trash threshold)]
[Minimum threshold: 70%. Full reward granted.]
[Reward Issued: $700,000 cash (auto-converted to nationally certified 100% flawless gold)]
[Main Quest Two Unlocked: Have Designer Blake Weiss create a masterwork of garbage that surpasses Desert Bus. Genre unrestricted.]
[Reward: $1.4 million cash]
Ivy's expression stayed perfectly neutral, but inside she was doing cartwheels.
The system only cares about gameplay. Even if he makes another banger soundtrack, it won't matter. I'm golden.
Blake noticed her spacing out and cleared his throat.
"Ivy? My team just pinged me — there's been some progress on the new project. I should probably head out."
She blinked back to attention. "Oh — yes, of course. Don't let me keep you."
Go forth and create more beautiful disasters, Blake Weiss. Momma's got bills to pay.
Blake grabbed his laptop and headed for the door. The moment he was in the hallway, he reached out to the system mentally.
"Purchase Game Production License: Delta Force."
[License consumed.]
[Estimated production time: 72 hours.]
A slow grin spread across his face.
Alright. Let's see how this world handles a real game.
PLZ THROW POWERSTONES.