In the span of just a few months, the very air of Yustea Prime had changed dramatically.
The vibrant, bustling energy of the tourist resorts and the sacred, quiet reverence of the native pilgrimages were completely gone. In their place stood cold, imposing durasteel fortresses. The lush, vibrant jungles were being systematically flattened to make way for colossal, ground-shaking heavy machinery, their massive drills and excavators positioned to gouge and strip-mine the entire planet.
And hanging high above the atmosphere, casting long, suffocating shadows over the continent, a massive blockade of Accord siege cruisers had stationed themselves, inching ever closer to the surface with each passing day.
Inside the heavily shielded, private communication room of Fort Aurek, Senior Lieutenant Verza Zal stood with a perfectly rigid, impeccable posture. She was waiting on a highly secure priority line.
After several long minutes of encrypted static, a crisp hologram popped into existence over the terminal.
It was Major Kalzor Darvek, a high-ranking officer within the Bureau of Stellar Order. The Gunnossian Major possessed the characteristic pure white hair and pale silver eyes of his species, with a sleek, chrome cybernetic processor smoothly integrated into his left temple. Unlike Verza's rigid military stance, Kalzor's posture was casually relaxed as he rested his four-digit hands on his desk.
"Apologies for the hold, Lieutenant," Kalzor said, his voice smooth and calculated. "This matter concerns the Celestarch himself. Good job on maintaining the narrative down there."
Verza gave a crisp nod. It had been a razor-thin tightrope walk over the last few weeks.
In truth, the entire galactic net had been dangerously nudging into questioning territory regarding the Stellar Accord's true actions on Yustea. The BSO algorithms hadn't caught the anomaly, but Verza had. In her rare downtime, she played Stardew Valley.
The moment the Community World DLC launched and she saw the Yoba's Blessing narrative event, she felt a cold spike of genuine alarm. She knew instantly that the seemingly innocent farming mod had the power to completely topple the carefully crafted "savage insurgent" narrative the Accord had spent months building.
In a swift, ruthless decision, Verza had pivoted her strategy. Instead of tightening the whip, she selectively offered more carrots to the Yustean natives. She allowed several docile tribes to establish permanent, semi-comfortable settlements directly around the designated mining zones.
Her BSO propaganda team immediately flooded the galactic net with high-quality, heartwarming footage of these settlements. They uploaded a massive, aggressive counter-narrative showing that the Yustean natives were actually "better off now," adapting to modern infrastructure, and that the Stellar Accord was simply helping them thrive toward mutual prosperity.
At the exact same time, she strategically released heavily edited news reports about violent, unprovoked "Yustean insurgencies," attacks she had secretly orchestrated and funded herself to justify the continued, heavy military presence to the public.
"My decision can be implemented more widely across the sector, Major," Verza proposed smoothly, her eyes locked on the hologram. "If you agree, I can–"
"Verza, calmly." Kalzor cut her off, his tone calm but carrying absolute authority.
Verza instantly stopped speaking. She straightened her grey BSO uniform, her expression hardening. "As I have said before in my reports, Major. There is only so much strict narrative control we can do through censorship. Actively manufacturing insurgencies on their end accomplishes significantly more. It gives the public an enemy to fear, and a reason to support our presence."
Kalzor simply nodded, his silver eyes unreadable. "I will pass your strategic assessments along to the Board of Directors. For now, I hope the excavation equipment is already up and running?"
"The heavy equipment can only take us so far," Verza replied, pulling up a geological survey on her datapad. "The core veins where the minerals are overflowing with concentrated solar energies are incredibly volatile. They are far too delicate to mine with automated heavy machinery without risking a catastrophic chain reaction. This is where the native population will start. They will extract it by hand."
Kalzor leaned forward slightly, his relaxed demeanor fading into something cold and terrifyingly pragmatic.
"What we need is what's in the ground, Lieutenant," Kalzor stated. "And when we are finally done excavating this rock, there won't be much left to call home for them anyway. Your mission as the BSO regional supervisor has ended with another spectacular success. When the Army fleet is fully positioned in forty-eight hours, you will officially hand over surface command to the Major General leading the fleet."
Verza offered a small, terrifyingly proud smile. She snapped off a flawless salute. "Understood, Major. Obey and prosper."
"Obey and prosper," Kalzor echoed.
The hologram fizzled and cut off, leaving Verza alone in the dim communication room.
She lowered her hand and looked down at the massive, detailed excavation report she had just sent to high command. In truth, with her security clearance, she herself didn't know exactly why the Celestarch always needed such an astronomical amount of solar-fused minerals.
But as a soldier of the Accord, it wasn't her place to argue or ask questions. All she needed to do was act, manipulate the board, and secure the absolute best possible outcome for the prosperity of the Stellar Accord. Everything else was irrelevant.
…
Meanwhile, lightyears away from the dark, oppressive machinery tearing into Yustea Prime, millions of players across the galaxy were finally reaching a monumental milestone.
After months of dying, adapting, and fighting their way through the brutal chambers of the Underworld, the most dedicated players were unlocking the true ending of Hades.
They watched in awe as the bitter, eons-long grudge between Olympus and the Underworld finally dissolved. In a beautiful, heartwarming finale, Hades finally swallowed his immense pride and invited his younger brother, Zeus, along with the rest of the chaotic, divine family, to a grand banquet in the House of Hades. The screen faded to black on a scene of unity, leaving players staring at their monitors with a profound sense of emptiness and absolute awe.
One of those players was Bele Zaln, a highly respected senior critic for the Galactic Gaming Tribune.
Sitting in her dimly lit apartment on the Core World of Zeto, Bele wiped a genuine tear from her eye. She set down her heavily customized controller, cracked her knuckles, and pulled her keyboard closer. The words practically poured out of her.
An hour later, her review hit the galactic net. It instantly trended to the number one spot across all gaming forums.
…
[REVIEW]
Escaping the Underworld: How Round Table Studio Resurrected an Industry
By Bele Zaln | Certified Fresh
Let me start by being brutally honest: the current state of the galactic gaming industry is a profound disappointment. For decades, it has been widely viewed by the public and critics alike as a third-rate entertainment sector, a shallow, uninspired cash grab dominated by corporate studios pumping out hollow, repetitive sequels.
This status quo has always infuriated me. Video games are the literal culmination of all the major artistic industries. They combine narrative, music, and visual art into a single, interactive medium. Yet, artistically, games have almost never reached the benchmarks of high cinema or classical literature.
Amidst these dark, creatively bankrupt times, Round Table Studio has unearthed the Underworld to remind us all exactly what the gaming industry is supposed to be about.
Not satisfied with the astronomical, galaxy-wide success of their farming simulator, Stardew Valley, RTS has delivered a new world entirely. They gave us a pantheon of gods. It is a concept so grand and intimidating that it genuinely took me aback when the final credits rolled and I realized the truth: beneath the divine lightning and earth-shattering battles, this story is intimately, beautifully about a broken family trying to reconnect.
RTS gave us gods with profound flaws and incredible strengths. They are petty, loving, arrogant, and vulnerable. Watching their family dynamics unfold reminded me vividly of the people within our own Stellar Accord, from the Gunnose to the Kalamorans. The writing is so incredibly sharp and deeply human that it is a story truly worthy of being archived in the Grand Library of Ardota.
But RTS did not just give us a masterclass in narrative; they gave us a completely new genre and mechanic. They have coined it the "roguelike dungeon crawler."
They have managed to make our failure an essential, incredibly smooth lesson. Now, do not get me wrong, this game is brutally difficult. Every time I failed a run and was sent back to the bloody pool in the House of Hades, I became so enraged that I literally ruined three of my controllers.
But RTS gave us a clear, tangible progression system that we can track and feel with every single death. You are always getting stronger, always learning, always unlocking new dialogue. It makes all the frustration completely worth it. It made all my failures suddenly feel beautiful the moment I finally succeeded in beating Hades for the first time. The catharsis is unmatched.
And let us not forget about the music. Recently, players on the forums have jokingly dubbed RTS as "a music label that occasionally releases their album packages disguised as video games." After playing Hades, I cannot help but absolutely agree. The heavy, blood-pumping song mixed with ancient, sorrowful string instruments is a thrill to discover dynamically as you fight from chamber to chamber.
Visually, RTS continues to pave their own rebellious path. Ignoring the industry standard of bloated VR, hyper-realistic 3D graphics, Hades utilizes a stunningly hand-painted, isometric 2.5D perspective. It sets the game apart entirely, delivering an absolute feast for the eyes that never stutters or drops a frame.
All in all, Hades is a masterful, flawless piece of art. It is going to be a classic that is studied for decades, and it now stands as the new pillar of what the gaming industry must strive for.
Score: 10 out of 10.
…
Back on Friton, the peaceful, unpolluted night had long since fallen over the Kepler estate. But on the second floor of the mansion, the warm lights of Dorian's private studio were still burning bright.
Dorian leaned back in his chair, scrolling through Bele Zaln's review, and dozens of others like it, on his massive monitor. A quiet, deeply satisfied smile rested on his face.
Reading the absolute adoration and passion from the galactic gaming community triggered a wave of nostalgia. He remembered, years ago on Nexus Prime, secretly signing up for a Void platform account using his father's dusty old credentials.
He remembered the exact day he had found a cool, high-action game on the front page, only to see the massive, one hundred credit price tag attached to it. His father, working himself to the bone in the Mord Tida mines, simply hadn't had that kind of money to spare on luxury entertainment.
In the end, the Void account had been relegated to nothing more than a window-shopping catalogue for a poor kid dreaming of different worlds.
And now, here he was. The mysterious architect of the very worlds he used to dream of escaping into.
Dorian closed the review tab and opened a blank page. The smile faded into a look of sharp, intense focus.
He closed his eyes and sank deep into his Mnemonic Echo. The vast, infinite library of Earth's gaming history stretched out before his mind's eye. He began to mentally pull titles from the shelves, noting down the concepts he could forge next for the Accord.
He looked at the golden age of 3D platformers, pulling the blueprints for Banjo-Kazooie, the irreverent chaos of Conker's Bad Fur Day, and the slick, stealthy mechanics of Sly Cooper. Then, his mind wandered toward darker, heavier shelves. He looked at the brutal, oppressive, and masterful architecture of the Soulsborne genre, games that would truly teach the galaxy the meaning of hard-fought perseverance.
Without realizing it, Dorian spent hours completely lost in the mental archive, cross-referencing mechanics, art styles, and potential cultural impacts.
When he finally snapped out of the Echo, he blinked, rubbing his tired eyes. He glanced at the chrono on the wall. It was almost 1:00 AM.
"Time flies when you're literally plundering a dead planet's culture," Dorian muttered to himself.
He stretched his arms high above his head, saved the massive list of game concepts to his secure drive, and finally walked out of the studio toward his bedroom. The list was ready. He would present it to the team tomorrow.
…
The next morning, the Round Table Studio HQ was buzzing with a relaxed, triumphant energy.
The team was gathered around the central holo table in the main junction room. Arthur, dressed casually, stood at the head of the table.
"First of all," Arthur began, his voice warm and proud, "congratulations, everyone. The Community World DLC is a monumental success, and Hades is currently the highest-rated game in the entire galaxy. You all did the impossible."
The team clapped, exchanging exhausted but incredibly happy smiles.
Arthur rested his hands on the edge of the table. "I've been reading the forums this morning. The players have been saying that with the passive income from Stardew and the explosive sales of Hades, Round Table Studio could literally just lie flat, do absolutely nothing, and let the money print itself for the next decade."
Arthur looked around the table, meeting the eyes of each team member. "And honestly? It's completely true. We could do exactly that. We have the capital. So... the question is, should we?"
A heavy silence fell over the room. For a few seconds, the team actually considered the reality of early, filthy-rich retirement.
Lin Liseli was the first to speak. She shook her head, her multi-colored hair bouncing.
"No way," Liseli said firmly. "Before you hired me, Arthur, I was living paycheck to paycheck in the lower levels. I was churning out soulless corporate logos and UI assets just to survive. I had reached a point where I looked at my own art and saw nothing but a hollow shell. But... seeing the player's reactions to my character designs in Hades? Seeing the fan art? It lit a fire inside of me that I haven't felt since I first picked up a stylus. I'm not stopping now."
Ross Dalle nodded, his three jointed hands resting on the table. "I have to agree. I spent years making royalty-free elevator music and backing tracks for Accord military recruitment commercials. It was soul-crushing. Reading comments from players who say they literally go AFK in the House of Hades just to listen to my music? That gave me a thrill I never even knew existed. I want to compose more."
Kasavin pushed his glasses up his nose, a rare, genuine smile on his face. "I must admit, I have done little more than polish your foundational narrative guides, Arthur. But amidst the chaos of development, I seem to have accidentally evolved into a hybrid Project and Community Manager. The feeling of reading the forums... the feeling when the players realize their feedback is actually being heard and implemented into the lore? It is profoundly satisfying. I would miss the chaos."
Arthur smiled. He then turned his gaze toward his two engineering geniuses.
Bem Lendu and Logan Kim looked at each other. A silent, highly concerning telepathic conversation seemed to pass between the two programmers.
Logan turned back to Arthur, a terrifyingly mischievous grin on his face. "Arty, I speak for both of us when I say this. If you decide to just 'lie flat' and give us absolutely nothing to do... Bem and I are going to get incredibly bored. And when we get bored, we start tinkering."
Bem nodded seriously. "Yeah. If you don't give us something to build, I am just going to connect the HQ's environmental controls, hook them up to a modified Stardew Valley server, and make it so that every time a player catches a legendary fish, the studio's sprinkler system goes off."
"And I," Logan added proudly, "am going to rewrite Gawain's core personality matrix so that he exclusively speaks in highly aggressive space pirate slang. We have what it takes to do the next project, Arty. Do not test us."
Arthur was genuinely taken aback for a second before he burst into a loud, ringing chuckle.
"Alright, alright! Message received," Arthur laughed, holding his hands up in surrender. "No forced retirement. That is exactly why I called this meeting. It's time we move to the next project."
He tapped the console on the table. "We have established our foundation. Stardew practically prints a new DLC every six months just by letting us officially polish the incredible community mods. And Hades is a complete, pristine, bug-free game. It's time to expand the universe."
Arthur snapped his fingers. "Gawain, pull up the midnight list."
"Aye aye, Captain," Gawain's smooth voice chimed, instantly projecting a massive, scrolling holographic list of concepts into the center of the table.
Logan pumped his fist, mouthing 'I'm going to make him say Argh' to Bem.
Arthur ignored his rogue programmers and pointed at the glowing list of Earth's greatest hits, ready to be unleashed upon the Stellar Accord.
"Let's start," Arthur said.
…
Several hours later, the central table of the junction room was littered with empty takeout containers, but the holographic list of games was still glowing brightly. The team was deep in the trenches of creative brainstorming, eating and throwing ideas back and forth.
Kasavin pushed his empty bowl aside and adjusted his glasses. "Honestly, Arthur, looking at the lore depth of some of these concepts... They aren't just games. These ideas can easily be turned into massive, multi-media franchises. We are talking about animated series, movies, and merchandising."
Lin Liseli, currently shoveling a massive bite of spicy noodles into her mouth, vigorously nodded in agreement. She reached out with her free hand and dragged one of the glowing titles to the center of the table.
"I wike dis Poké-mon con-shept," Liseli mumbled, her cheeks completely stuffed with noodles.
Ross Dalle let out a deep chuckle, handing her a napkin. "Swallow your food first, Lin, then talk. You're going to choke."
Liseli quickly chewed, swallowed hard, and took a gulp of water. "I said, I like this Pokémon concept! The idea of designing and catching hundreds of unique, cute elemental beasts? From an artistic standpoint, it's infinitely expandable. I could draw these things for years."
Bem Lendu leaned back in his chair, rubbing his chin. "It's a brilliant loop, but it's going to be an absolute nightmare for the completionists. You wrote the tagline here as 'Gotta catch 'em all'? People will literally lose sleep over that."
Arthur smiled, taking a sip of his coffee. "I think completionists have inherent masochistic tendencies to begin with, Bem. They enjoy the pain of the grind. They'll be alright."
The team burst out laughing, knowing full well how true that statement was after watching players bash their heads against Hades for fifty hours straight.
As the laughter died down, Logan Kim reached into the holographic display. He swiped the Pokémon title to the side and dragged two massive, heavy-hitting titles right to the center.
World of Warcraft and Final Fantasy.
"These," Logan said, his eyes gleaming with a programmer's raw ambition. "I am significantly more interested in these two. The scale is staggering. If we can build these massive, open-world MMOs in full Virtual Reality? We wouldn't just sweep the current market. We would completely monopolize it."
Bem immediately shook his head, throwing a wet blanket on his partner's fire. "Yeah, but think of the logistical cost, Logan. Renting a third-party VR engine is not cheap. And worse, most of the high-end corporate engines come with predatory ownership stakes. If we code our groundbreaking mechanics on their engine, their Terms of Service usually allow them to steal our hard-worked mechanics and sell them to other studios who rent the platform. We'd be giving away our proprietary tech."
Arthur watched the two engineers debate. He set his coffee mug down. "Then how about making our own VR engine from scratch?"
Bem and Logan both froze. They stared at the glowing table, silently calculating the sheer magnitude of that request.
Bem slowly shook his head again, letting out a heavy breath. "Too long, Arty. With the descriptions you've laid out for World of Warcraft and Final Fantasy... they require incredibly complex combat mechanics, zero-latency server controls, and massive concurrent player features."
"How long do you think it would realistically take?" Arthur asked.
Logan crossed his arms, doing the math in his head. "To build a proprietary VR engine capable of handling that? Eight to ten years."
Arthur blinked, genuinely surprised. "That long?"
"Making our own VR engine means we need to build entirely new databases and physical server hardware from the ground up," Logan explained bluntly. "Then there is the physical calibration to the Accord's standard VR equipment to prevent motion sickness. All of that foundational coding would take a year or two before we even think about programming the actual gameplay and combat mechanics."
Kasavin tapped his chin thoughtfully. "But Logan, how about if we already had a functional, base-level VR engine built?"
"Then we would just need to expand and implement the MMO features," Logan replied. "The process for a massive game like WoW could easily be cut down to five to seven years."
Right then and there, Arthur realized a harsh truth: Round Table Studio, as elite as they were, was still just six people. It was time to expand his team and his digital kingdom.
But they needed a stepping stone.
"What if we make a simple VR game first?" Arthur proposed, his eyes lighting up with sudden inspiration. "We build a smaller, highly focused game to serve as the foundational bedrock to complete our VR engine."
Logan raised an eyebrow. "How simple are we talking?"
Arthur reached into the holographic list and dragged a new title to the center, pushing World of Warcraft aside.
Sky: Children of the Light.
"An MMO social adventure game," Arthur explained, expanding the design document for the team to see. "There is no complex combat. There are no massive skill trees or intense physics calculations. It is a beautiful, atmospheric world where people can just relax, fly through the clouds, and chill after work or a long day at school. They can interact and hold hands with people across the galaxy."
Arthur looked at Logan. "We can also add a standard, non-VR version as an option for accessibility. With incredibly simple movement controls and a focus on social interaction and music, it won't demand much out of our prototype VR engine, but it will let us test the net-code on a galactic scale."
The team stared at the beautiful, serene concept art attached to the title. They instantly saw the vision. It was the perfect Trojan Horse to build their proprietary technology.
"And," Kasavin added, his strategic mind already weaving the release schedule, "we don't have to go dark during that development cycle. We can release a 2D non-VR game, such as Pokémon to keep the community engaged and the revenue flowing while the engineers build the Sky VR engine in the background."
Bem and Logan looked at each other, their eyes lighting up simultaneously as the puzzle pieces finally clicked into place. The daunting, impossible mountain of work had suddenly become a clear, highly actionable roadmap.
"If we separate the development tracks like that..." Logan muttered, a massive grin spreading across his face. "We aren't looking at a decade. We can cut the VR engine development down to two, maybe four years max."
Arthur smiled, looking around at his re-energized team. The next era of Round Table Studio had just officially begun.
A/N:
Thank you for your support!
~/SmilinKujo