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"Look for the feeling," John said with a faint smile.
For the overwhelming majority of small independent game studios, finding a publisher without a strong reputation or a massive marketing budget was never easy. Most had to think of every possible way to promote their games, and so they would search for well-known video creators who specialized in similar genres and try to convince them to showcase the game.
But achieving that was incredibly difficult, especially since it often required expensive behind-the-scenes deals and promotional arrangements. As a result, many developers could only create countless alternate accounts and flood gaming forums and communities with advertisements, desperately trying to let more people notice their work.
Even when a game began gaining traction on a small scale, players still often failed to discover the deeper systems hidden beneath the surface. At that point, the developers themselves would quietly step in and reveal parts of the game personally, whether it was hidden easter eggs, secret mechanics, obscure lore, or concealed storylines.
Sometimes, even the amusing bugs circulating through the community were not actually discovered naturally by players. A surprising number of them were intentionally exposed by the developers and their teams to increase discussion and engagement.
Of course, for games developed by his studio, none of those flashy promotional tricks were truly necessary. Even without aggressive advertising, any title produced would almost become popular. On major gaming websites and media platforms, their games hogged the headlines. As long as there were no competing AAA giants launching during the same period, a new release from them would almost certainly occupy the center of attention.
Still, John genuinely enjoyed engaging players with bits and pieces of hidden content. Revealing a small fragment of lore, exposing an unnoticed easter egg, or subtly guiding players toward undiscovered plot details gave him an oddly satisfying sense of amusement. Watching players become excited, shocked, emotional, or obsessed because of something he deliberately planted in the game filled him with quiet happiness.
As more and more players completed Metal Gear Solid: Phantom Pain, discussions surrounding the game exploded across the internet. In many ways, games and films were remarkably similar.
A movie could be considered art not merely because of spectacle or commercial success, but because it carried its own thematic core and emotional philosophy beyond visual impact alone.
The same principle applies to games. A truly artistic game was never defined solely by gameplay mechanics or graphical fidelity. "Art within games," that was the exact phrase many gaming media outlets used when describing Metal Gear Solid: Phantom Pain.
And just like those exaggerated reading comprehension exercises from school, where a single sentence could somehow be interpreted into hundreds of words, the story within a game often evolved far beyond what its creators originally intended.
Sometimes the developers themselves never considered certain interpretations at all. Yet through endless discussions, speculation, and theory crafting, players gradually pieced together a far richer and more complete worldview.
Fortunately, Metal Gear Solid: Phantom Pain was not a fragmented or inconsistent universe. On the contrary, because of the dream memories in his mind, John understood better than anyone just how massive and extraordinary the thirty-year history of this legendary IP truly was. From a certain perspective, it was already a perfectly complete world.
Whenever players proposed theories that contradicted existing clues, countless other players would immediately emerge to refute them using hidden details scattered throughout the game.
At the same time, when players constructed believable theories and speculation, they would often discover that numerous subtle hints within the game actually supported their conclusions.
That realization filled players with amazement. They marveled at the sheer scale of the game's design and felt an overwhelming sense of accomplishment. Even though the developers had only offered subtle hints, the players themselves had successfully uncovered the hidden truth behind the plot.
Meanwhile, overseas, inside the offices of Power Storm Studio, Steven leaned back in his chair while watching the fully edited cinematic compilation of Metal Gear Solid: Phantom Pain. The complete sequence lasted several hours.
Yet despite being stitched together from countless in-game scenes, the cinematics flowed together with shocking coherence. There was still a slight sense of fragmentation unique to video games, but even so, the result was astonishing.
"It's like making a movie through a game," Steven muttered quietly. "In a certain sense, he gave the entire industry a lesson."
Steven suddenly rose from his chair, unable to suppress the excitement in his voice. Ever since returning from the awards ceremony, he had devoted himself entirely to planning his new project, Epic Continent.
But unlike the earlier entries, this game would no longer focus solely on a single protagonist's perspective. Instead, he wanted to construct a truly complete and immersive world, something on the scale of The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim.
"If I had seen a game like this before developing Epic Continent," Steven sighed while shaking his head, "then the entire series would have undergone another shift."
Joni, standing nearby, looked at him in surprise. As Steven's closest partner, trusted friend, and the second most influential figure within the Studio, he understood Steven better than almost anyone. Steven was an extremely proud man, so proud that at times he bordered on arrogance.
Yet from The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim to today's Metal Gear Solid: Phantom Pain, he had repeatedly offered such sincere praise toward another creator. To Joni, that was almost unbelievable.
"I need to completely restart development on Epic Continent 2," Steven declared suddenly. "In addition, I need a real film director. A professional one. And I need truly exceptional actors. Sam Cruise would be perfect as the protagonist of Epic Continent 2. For several major roles, I want professional actors across the board."
Joni froze. "…Are you insane?"
He stared at Steven in disbelief. "Redesigning Epic Continent 2 is manageable since we haven't invested too heavily yet. But we're making games, not movies. Hiring a professional director is already expensive enough, but Sam Cruise? My God, his movie salary alone costs tens of millions of dollars!"
Joni looked completely speechless. Power Storm Studio was wealthy, yes. But not wealthy enough to burn money without limits. What kind of development budget would a game like that even require? 100 million dollars? 200 million? Possibly even more? How many copies would they need to sell just to recover the investment?
And games were fundamentally different from films. A superstar actor might convince audiences to buy a ten-dollar movie ticket, but would those same fans really spend 60 dollars on a game? More importantly, how many of them were even gamers to begin with? These were all factors a game company had to consider carefully before hiring celebrities.
Hearing Joni's concerns, Steven slowly calmed down.
"But I still need genuine professionals," he said firmly. "Otherwise, next year's Game of the Year award will already be decided."
His expression turned unusually serious.
"Temporarily shelve the plans for Epic Continent 2," Steven continued after a moment of silence. "I think I need to go there personally. I want to meet this man face to face."
Meanwhile, inside PixelPioneers, John had no idea that someone on the other side of the ocean had already become so obsessed with his work that they intended to travel across the world to see him personally.
At this moment, he was still sitting inside the conference room, discussing the future plans for the Metal Gear franchise. The follow-up stories involving THE BOSS and BIG BOSS, the future multiplayer online mode, and the events that unfolded after Venom Snake in Metal Gear Solid: Phantom Pain were all projects John intended to deliver to players eventually.
Of course, there was also the hidden global event within the multiplayer mode: A world completely free of nuclear weapons. A goal so difficult that, relying solely on players themselves, it was almost impossible to achieve.
Which meant that, sooner or later, the official developers would need to step in and provide a few carefully placed "hints" of their own.