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Chapter 269: It’s Lit! Tetsuya Moritan!
🕑 Added 2025-09-07 07:28:19 +0000 UTCGus Harper handed Peak Nation’s development to Steel Chain Fingers Studio.
Golden Experience Studio was swamped, teaming with Max Weaver’s ops crew for winter updates and pass designs for PUBG and Apex Legends. No spare hands. Plus, Golden Experience had a bigger project queued up post-update.
So, the Peak Nation meeting was just Gus, Luke Bennett, Jake Rivers, and the full Steel Chain Fingers crew.
Zoey Parker? Off buying “gifts” with the finance lead and Chloe Quinn, claiming it was to reward Sekiro’s success. Total cop-out to dodge work.
Gus grinned, scanning the room’s expectant stares. Tetsuya Moritan took a deep breath.
As Komina’s ex-managing director, second-in-command at a global gaming giant, Tetsuya was a big deal at mid-sized WindyPeak. Even he felt the pressure.
He knew how to read the room—adapt or get rekt. But this crew? Straight-up daunting.
Gus Harper, WindyPeak’s VP and superstar designer, had dropped bangers in three years: vampire survival, next-gen FPS, psychological horror like Outlast (aka Escape), tower defense legend Plants vs. Zombies, cinematic vibes like To the Moon, and Sekiro’s soul-crushing ARPG glory with a 9.9 score. Every game flipped the script, hitting players’ hype buttons.
Luke Bennett and Jake Rivers, WindyPeak’s OGs, built this empire with Gus. Jake, the art lead, crafted Sekiro’s epic signal tower and To the Moon’s trippy Palace of Origin, nailing every visual. Luke, the code master, crushed time-space mechanics and action upgrades, locking in Sekiro’s core.
Then there’s Steel Chain Fingers Studio, led by Sora Tanaka, Yuki Hasegawa, and Kazu Okura. Ex-Komina all-stars, they’d dropped Silent Hill P.T. and Outlast, plus Plants vs. Zombies’s global takeover and Sekiro’s near-perfect rep. New to WindyPeak, but their track record was fire.
The no-shows? Even crazier. Zoey Parker, WindyPeak’s prez, was a rare female CEO with a “burn cash, make art” vibe no one dared copy. Golden Experience Studio—Jared Young, Shane Carter, Kyle Lang—went from college rookies to dropping Left 4 Dead, PUBG, and Titanfall, putting WindyPeak on the world stage. Max Weaver’s ops team? They didn’t just maintain—they birthed the Creative Workshop, a feature every studio now rips off.
This wasn’t a company. It was a boss-rush gauntlet, spawning only elites and legends.
Tetsuya, despite his Komina cred, couldn’t coast. Forget your exec days, he told himself. This is a gaming empire in the making. Your boss is a myth, your peers are beasts, your team is stacked.
Time to pop off, Tetsuya. At nearly 40, your stage is ready.
Starting with Peak Nation.
“Alright,” Tetsuya said, locking in. “I’ve talked Peak Nation with Gus.”
“It’s a banger—dope creativity, tight gameplay, diving into extreme sports, a first for the genre. But that’s the catch: the audience is niche as hell.”
“To close that gap, we lean hard into gimmicks.”
Gimmicks. A shady word, but at WindyPeak, it’s straight-up neutral. Take Gus’s “Make FPS Great Again” flex for Titanfall. Pure hype—then delivered. Hype became legendary.
Tetsuya was ready to do the same. “We’re cooking a gimmick to blow players’ minds worldwide.”
He paused. “If we can, let’s recreate real-world spots in-game. Feel Mount Rainier’s rush in a wingsuit. Skydive over the Rocky Mountains. Chase avalanches in the Sierra Nevada. Surf Mavericks’ 100-meter waves.”
“I remember Gus pitching the ‘Peak Eight Events’ concept: Power Surge, Sky Birth, Earth Awakening, Water Life, Wind Rush, Ice Lock, Fate Master, Ultimate Trust. IRL, no one’s surviving those. But letting players globe-trot in-game, pushing life’s limits? That’s straight fire.”
What?!
The room gasped. Luke and Jake swapped looks, shook.
No wonder Gus snagged Tetsuya! Dude was Gus 2.0—same wild vision, same bold moves, same knack for hitting players’ G-spots.
Real-world shoots! Insane challenges! It’s like handing players cheat codes to conquer the impossible—wingsuiting Mount Rainier, skydiving the Rockies, skiing the Sierra Nevada, surfing Mavericks. Pure hype juice.
Tetsuya kept going. “For trailers, since it’s an open-world, semi-competitive extreme sports game, spoilers aren’t a vibe. Show it all.”
He spread his hands. “So, let’s drop multiple promo vids—each a music video. License big tracks from global charts, domestic and international.”
Damn! The room sucked in air.
Tetsuya’s plan: snag song copyrights, slap them on trailers. Next-level bold.
Luke and Jake grinned, eyeing Gus, who nodded like a proud coach. No doubt—these two had schemed this up already.
Real-world locations, chart-topping bangers—this combo would save Peak Nation’s niche ass.
“But…” Tetsuya’s tone shifted. “This spikes the cost. Way past our plan. We’re talking $80M to $90M, maybe $100M.”
Too steep. Tetsuya knew WindyPeak’s “burn money” rep, but this wasn’t the scrappy startup days. A mid-sized crew with multiple studios—Steel Chain Fingers, Golden Experience—meant mouths to feed and projects to balance. As Komina’s ex-director, he saw the big picture. He vibed with Steel Chain Fingers, his old Komina squad, but as WindyPeak’s deputy director, he had to play fair. Zoey deserved a heads-up, not a reckless cash bonfire.
Knock, knock, knock.
“Come in,” Gus said, glancing at the door.
Click. In strutted a girl in a cream floral blouse, wide-leg pants, and a mint-green coat, a fresh vibe trailing her. She parked next to Gus.
Whoosh. Everyone stood. “Yo, President Parker!”
It was Zoey Parker, back from her “gift” run.
“Chill, y’all,” Zoey waved, leaning on Gus’s shoulder. “How’s the talk going?”
“Almost wrapped,” Gus said. “Only snag? Tetsuya’s sweating Peak Nation’s cost. Says $80M–$100M’s heavy for the company.”
Hell yeah! Zoey’s eyes lit up.
She’d been side-eyeing Tetsuya’s hire. Dude was a beast at Komina, the only one who stressed Gus, forcing shady moral flexes to win. Gus feared Komina’s prez less than Tetsuya.
Zoey worried he’d be a double-edged sword, but Gus vouched hard. His salary wasn’t cheap, but she relented.
Now? Tetsuya was a cash-torching legend. You’re cooking, Tetsuya!
Execs who burned money proactively? Rarer than a shiny Charizard. You’re a keeper, bro.
“Oh?” Zoey grinned, leaning in. “How much we talking?”
Show me your big-spender energy.
Tetsuya hesitated, eyeing the boss. “…Maybe $80M to $90M… could hit $100M.”
