"The Veteran Team has dragged the game into overtime!"
The commentator's voice thundered through the venue, sharp and excited, full of pressure and energy.
"Both sides have switched to the fastest heroes possible to get back to the battlefield! And look at that—D.Va on both teams! You could say great minds really do think alike!"
In a university dorm room, several boys crowded around a laptop, staring so hard at the screen that nobody even blinked. The match on the stream had reached its most explosive moment. On-screen, the payload crept forward inch by inch. In the large arena, which could hold nearly a thousand people, the atmosphere had become almost unbearable.
The caster, dressed neatly in a suit and tie, was half-shouting now, fist raised high as he followed every movement on stage.
"Lucio uses speed boost to push the whole team back into the fight! Both off-tanks are throwing themselves at the payload! Neither side wants to let go! So who takes it? Will the Veteran Team regain control and turn this into a comeback win? Or will the Supermodel Team hold the line, take match point, and push the series into the next map?"
The crowd exploded with every second that passed.
Support sticks waved below the stage like a sea of light. The red overtime bar kept burning at the top of the game screen. On stage, inside the soundproof booth, six young players sat at their machines, faces red, shoulders tense, hands moving wildly over mouse and keyboard.
Even through the glass, people could feel the heat of the moment.
"Don't split up! Watch McCree, watch McCree!"
"Bubbles, fall back! I can't heal you from there, hurry up!"
"How long until Mercy ult? Last push! Revive me and I'll have my ult ready too—just hold a little longer!"
"Tinkerbell, switch to Soldier: 76! Don't force Tracer anymore, your Tracer isn't stable enough!"
"McCree's ulting! D.Va, go disrupt him!"
Inside the booth, the Veteran Team sounded less like six pros and more like six men trying not to drown in their own adrenaline.
This team had an average age of twenty-five. In most esports circles, that already counted as old. They were called veterans for a reason. They had been around long enough to understand exactly how rare a moment like this was.
And no one was shouting louder than Alex Hunter.
His voice had gone hoarse long ago. His face was red, his neck strained, and every word coming out of his mouth sounded like it had been dragged across sandpaper. But he kept yelling anyway.
Because today was the Overwatch quarterfinal.
And if they won this match, they would enter the semifinals.
Some people were already saying this quarterfinal was the real final. Compared to the Supermodel Team, the other remaining teams just did not look as dangerous. The official top five hundred rankings had not fully settled yet, but the opposing roster was stacked with future monsters. Every one of them was Grandmaster level. Not just strong, but the kind of players who would likely become top-tier stars later.
So this match had become the center of attention.
Across the entire network, the quarterfinal drew twenty million clicks.
That number alone showed just how terrifying Overwatch's popularity had become.
But while the whole country was focused on the quarterfinal, Northstar Games was quietly handling something even bigger behind the scenes.
A project the company had not announced.
A project so unusual that even Ethan Reed could not guarantee it would be allowed to launch after it was finished.
Because this time, the challenge was not game design.
It was the real world.
It was public safety.
It was regulation.
While the quarterfinal match burned across livestream platforms, Ethan, Daniel, members of Northstar's legal department, and a representative from the Lumen City administration had already gone to the capital to discuss one thing:
Pokémon Go.
The idea behind the game was simply too new.
It interacted with the real world. It required user location data. It depended on mapping systems and movement tracking. Under those conditions, it was no longer enough to finish the game and just apply for approval like a normal title.
Northstar's earlier games could move fast. Skybound could handle approval, and if any issue appeared later, the company could always adjust the content or take it offline. But Pokémon Go was different.
If the company could not present a convincing answer to the authorities, then the game would never be released.
The biggest problem was not even the technology.
AR could be developed.
Gameplay could be refined.
Maps could be licensed.
In fact, domestic mapping companies were extremely willing to work with Northstar. A cooperation like this could bring them traffic, data, and public attention. Since Pokémon itself had a massive audience, they knew that once the game launched, players would flood in.
No, the real problem was everything that came after the game entered real life.
What if a rare Pokémon appeared in the middle of a busy road?
What if it spawned near a traffic junction?
What if players rushed into unsafe places just to catch something rare?
Ethan could not guarantee that everyone would obey traffic rules.
He could not promise that some hot-headed player would not run a red light or cross into a dangerous area because they were too excited.
And if someone got hurt while playing, what then?
Would Northstar be responsible?
That was why developing Pokémon Go was so difficult. The hardest part was not making the game work. It was deciding where Pokémon could appear and making sure those places were safe.
There was another issue too, one even more sensitive.
A game that recorded positions and user behavior in the real world could accidentally expose patterns tied to places ordinary people were never supposed to access. Restricted zones, confidential areas, unusual traffic routes—those things could, in theory, be inferred from player data.
That risk could not be ignored.
So for Pokémon Go to succeed, Northstar needed more than a fun prototype.
It needed approval backed by trust.
The bad memory in Ethan's mind made all of this worse. In his previous life, Pokémon Go had never properly opened in mainland China. The region had been locked. At the height of the global craze, when streets elsewhere were full of players, people in China could only play in places like Hong Kong or Macau.
But Ethan also remembered the reason.
The problem had not been the game alone. It had been the platform behind it.
Google refused to fully comply with local laws and regulations.
Northstar did not have that problem.
Their version of Pokémon Go did not need a Google account.
And because of that, Ethan believed there was still a real chance.
If Northstar made enough compromises, then maybe this game could live.
---
They arrived in the capital at one in the afternoon.
When Ethan's group reached the General Administration, the leaders were still in a meeting. So Ethan and Daniel were asked to wait in a lounge while the legal team handled some initial paperwork nearby.
Daniel leaned closer and spoke in a low voice.
"I've already contacted several mapping companies about GPS support. They're all willing to cooperate. Very willing. But only if Pokémon clears this approval stage first."
Ethan nodded. "I know."
Vivian Frost did not come.
Logically, she should have. As the head of Northstar Games, this kind of negotiation should have fallen to her. But Ethan knew her too well. Vivian could be bold in private, stubborn in arguments, and fearless when it came to games or money. But in formal situations, especially in places like this, her nerves would eat her alive. She would cling to him and say almost nothing.
So this meeting could only be handled by Ethan.
And to be honest, he was nervous too.
Northstar was already one of the strongest game companies in the country. In terms of momentum and public attention, almost nobody could match them. Some people online had even started saying that if Northstar kept going like this for a few more years, it could become the largest game company in China.
Maybe they were right.
But none of that mattered much here.
No matter how big a game company was, when it faced state review over public safety and data handling, reputation only meant having a few more cards in hand.
Not a free pass.
While they waited, Ethan and Daniel quietly reviewed their notes one last time. They had listed every issue they could think of and prepared answers as carefully as possible.
At three-thirty, a receptionist finally came for them.
They were led down a corridor and into an office.
Only one man was waiting inside.
He looked to be in his early forties, tall and lean, with neatly styled hair and a calm, tidy appearance. His clothes were simple but sharp. He gave off the impression of someone efficient, direct, and not easily fooled.
When Ethan and Daniel entered, the man stood up with a polite smile and walked around the desk.
"Welcome," he said, offering his hand. "Director He already told me about your situation."
Ethan stepped forward and shook his hand. "Hello, Director Lawson."
Daniel followed after him and did the same.
Once tea had been poured and everyone sat down, Director Lawson looked at Ethan with a measured smile.
"Young man, your project is not easy to approve. Director He spoke highly of you. He said Northstar Games has boosted Lumen City's economy and created many jobs. That is a good thing. A very good thing."
He paused, then continued.
"Under normal circumstances, we should strongly support a company like yours. But this matter is genuinely difficult. It is not that we want to make things hard for you. It is that if certain problems are not resolved, approval cannot be given."
He did not waste any time.
"I have reviewed your application carefully. I have a few questions."
Ethan straightened in his seat.
"First," Director Lawson said, "how do you intend to deal with players taking risks in order to catch Pokémon? Your plan covers a wide area. Your colleague told us you will mark dangerous areas as restricted zones. But even now, we ourselves cannot claim to have perfectly identified every dangerous location across the country. So how can your company do it?"
He looked straight at Ethan.
"And danger does not always come from obvious places. Sometimes one careless step is enough. A ditch, a curb, a badly placed crossing—that is all it takes. I have watched Pokémon myself. My child likes it very much. I understand how popular it is. Precisely because it is popular, if players lose their judgment for a moment and get hurt, how will you deal with that?"
Ethan opened his mouth to answer, but Director Lawson raised a hand.
"Second," he continued, "after collecting user information, how will Northstar ensure that this data is not leaked? I do not mean intentional sale. I mean security. Does your current technical ability truly protect this data from hackers? This game would gather far more information than ordinary games, possibly even daily movement patterns. Do you understand what I'm asking?"
"I do," Ethan said at once.
Director Lawson nodded.
"Third. If this game grows without strict control, it may create problems for city operations and normal life. Let me give you a simple example. Tourist sites. Your application mentions placing some rare Pokémon in those locations to encourage interest. But if large crowds gather there because of the game, could that not create new safety issues?"
He took a slow sip of tea.
"Pokémon Go has many small issues. So understand this clearly—we are not delaying approval for the sake of delaying it."
This time Ethan responded immediately.
"Director Lawson, the issues you raised are exactly the ones Northstar has also been studying. We have already prepared measures to address them."
Lawson gestured for him to continue.
"First," Ethan said, "we do not plan to launch nationwide at once. The first version will only open in selected cities and controlled zones. We will use that as a trial phase to test spawn timing, movement areas, activity ranges, and public response. We are already in contact with Baidu Maps and similar services. We intend to position all spawn points carefully and prevent Pokémon from appearing near roadsides, dangerous crossings, isolated areas, or restricted zones. Instead, spawn points will be concentrated in safer public locations—parks, shopping centers, plazas, and other monitored city spaces."
Director Lawson listened, but shook his head slightly.
"That alone is not enough."
"I know," Ethan said. "As for players getting injured while looking at their phones, our capture system will rely on AR and the rear camera during key interactions. Players will see the road ahead while playing. That reduces blind movement. And to be honest… even without Pokémon Go, many people already walk while staring at their phones."
Lawson remained silent, which at least meant he was still listening.
Ethan pressed on.
"Beyond that, the game could also benefit local cities. Players would effectively become moving location nodes, helping improve map accuracy. And by encouraging walking, the game could promote physical activity—"
Director Lawson suddenly smiled, just a little.
Ethan almost smacked his own forehead.
That had sounded ridiculous.
Promoting exercise? That was not exactly a powerful selling point here.
Still, Lawson said, "Go on."
So Ethan did.
"We can also connect the game to public welfare. In-game tasks can be tied to real-world civic activities—safe public events, volunteer programs, city-cleaning campaigns, environmental check-ins, even official partnerships. Players could earn unique achievements or access rare support-type Pokémon by taking part."
Lawson leaned back slightly. "Explain that more."
"For example," Ethan said, thinking quickly, "players who participate in approved volunteer work could unlock special medals or event rewards. Some rare Pokémon could be linked to public service tasks. Not forced, of course. Optional. But it gives the game a healthier structure."
In truth, Ethan knew such restrictions would not please everyone.
Some players would love it.
Others would hate it.
But at this moment, he was not here to make the perfect player pitch.
He was here to get the game approved.
Just then, the office door opened.
"Director Lawson, it's time. We need to go."
Daniel shifted uneasily. Ethan's words stopped in his throat.
Lawson glanced at his watch, stood up, and gave them a small nod.
"Let's stop here for now."
Ethan rose with him.
Then Director Lawson smiled and asked, "Are you free tonight? We can continue this discussion over dinner."
For one brief second, Ethan and Daniel froze.
Then both answered at the same time.
"Yes."
"We are."
And in that instant, Ethan knew one thing clearly.
Pokémon Go still had a chance
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