Monday 12 May 1999 ZAGE Campus USA.
Right now, it was just two days after the interview on Saturday, and Zaboru was already back to working as usual. Despite the chaos outside, his routine hadn't changed much. His main task for today was clear: he needed to give Team Tempest their next assignment and set the direction for their upcoming project. Inside the ZAGE Campus, things felt almost normal—but beyond those walls, the world was anything but calm. The entire industry, and even the general public, had been swept up by a sudden storm of discussion, arguments, and headlines.
The interview had gone completely viral. Clips of it spread rapidly across television, newspapers, and online forums , replayed again and again. Zaboru's calm, composed responses were praised widely, while Lewis Miller's racist remarks triggered massive public outrage. In this world, many people strongly reject racism—especially when it takes the form of direct blame toward a specific race with phrases like "this is because of you" or "your people caused this." That kind of targeting was deeply disliked. At the same time, the public was more tolerant of light or contextual racial jokes, as long as they didn't cross the line into outright hatred or dehumanization. Lewis had crossed that line clearly, and the backlash reflected it.
People talked about the incident everywhere, and the ZAGE forums in particular completely exploded. Threads multiplied at an incredible pace, with users posting photos , and transcripts of the interview. Many comments praised Zaboru's composure, with posts saying things like, "Look at Zaboru handling insults so casually—it's unreal," and "That's how a real leader responds under pressure." His calm demeanor and effortless confidence became the main talking point across the community.
There was also a lighter, more playful side to the discussion. Some female users openly joked—or half-joked—about how charismatic he looked during the interview. "Is it just me," one popular post read, "or did Zaboru look extremely hot on that show?" The comment quickly gained thousands of likes and replies. Zaboru's fanbase surged noticeably in the days following the broadcast, with many new supporters drawn not just to his ideas, but to his personality and grace under fire.
Meanwhile, Lewis Miller found himself in serious trouble. Media outlets began running follow-up interviews, not to discuss video games, but to question his remarks. Analysts, commentators, and even fellow politicians criticized him openly, stating that such language was unacceptable and had no place in public discourse.
Chinese audiences, in particular, grew increasingly fond of Zaboru. When he had been wrongly labeled as Chinese, he didn't react defensively or with anger. Instead, he calmly praised Chinese people, calling them great, and even turned the insult into humor by saying he loved Chinese food and would happily learn to cook it someday. Rather than taking offense, Zaboru disarmed the moment entirely. That response resonated deeply, and for many viewers, it cemented his image as someone who met ignorance with respect and hostility with quiet confidence.
And with that, the trouble brewing around GTA slowly faded, replaced by newer headlines and fresh controversies elsewhere. Zaboru understood this pattern all too well. These kinds of storms would always exist—public outrage, political pressure, moral panic—but he had long since stopped caring about them on a personal level. As long as ZAGE stayed true to its creative vision and respected its players, noise from the outside world was just that: noise.
Now fully back inside the ZAGE Campus, Zaboru found himself seated in one of the main meeting rooms with the higher-ups of Team Tempest. Around the table sat familiar faces: John Carmack, Peter Wayne, and Lucian Fred, along with two leaders who had been officially appointed only a few months ago—Will Wright and Chris Sawyer. To the world, Will and Chris were already famous names, legendary developers from Zaboru's previous life. Yet in this world, they had quietly been part of ZAGE for years.
Zaboru had always known their potential, but he deliberately gave them space. He let them work independently, free from interference, trusting their instincts and creativity. True to his expectations, both rose naturally through the ranks—not through favoritism, but through results, leadership, and vision. Now, Team Tempest stood on solid ground with five capable leaders guiding it forward.
Among them all, John Carmack remained the backbone of the team—the great leader who balanced technical brilliance with calm authority. With this lineup, Team Tempest was no longer just strong; it was stable, experienced, and fully capable of carrying ZAGE's most ambitious PC projects into the future.
"Okay, guys, thank you all for coming," Zaboru began, glancing around the room with a relaxed smile. "And I hope I didn't interrupt the Hitman: Agent 47 development?"
John Carmack smiled and shook his head confidently. "No problem at all, boss. Hitman 47 is basically finished. The team is just running a few final tests—mostly edge cases and some unusual bugs we ran into. I'm pretty sure you already know that bug I'm talking about."
Zaboru nodded and chuckled knowingly. Team Tempest had discovered an odd issue where, if Agent 47 threw his briefcase, it would behave like a guided missile—locking onto enemies and chasing them relentlessly across the map. What had started as a ridiculous physics error quickly became an inside joke among the developers.
"Honestly," Zaboru said with amusement, "when I first saw it, I didn't even think of it as a bug." He leaned back slightly. "I thought, why not turn it into a feature?"
The room filled with light laughter as Carmack nodded in agreement. Instead of removing it entirely, Team Tempest had decided to refine the mechanic, overhauling the briefcase into a deliberate gameplay element. The result was the Homing Briefcase—a unique, signature weapon that fit perfectly with the game's dark humor and creative tone.
"It's weird," Carmack added, smiling, "but it works. And players are probably going to love it."
"Okay then, John—and everyone else," Zaboru said as he straightened up, his tone shifting into something more businesslike. "This time, I'll be giving you a new task, and yes—it's for PC again."
He let out a light chuckle, already anticipating the reaction. Right on cue, Peter Wayne groaned dramatically and leaned back in his chair. "Boss, come on… can we get more ZEPS 3 tasks instead? We had an absolute blast developing Gran Turismo. That project was pure joy."
The room filled with a few amused murmurs. Zaboru chuckled along with them, clearly understanding Peter's frustration. "Well, maybe later, Peter," he replied casually. "I won't rule it out. But for now, this game is necessary. Very necessary."
With that, Zaboru reached for a thick folder and began handing identical copies to all five leaders seated around the table. As each folder was opened, the same title stared back at them in bold letters:
Wolfenstein.
Zaboru smiled, watching their reactions carefully, then began to explain. "This project is simple—but also complicated," he said. "At its core, it's rooted in World War II. But there's a twist. In this world, the Nazis are far stronger than they were in real history."
He paused, letting the tension build, then continued with a grin. "And that's not all. There's another layer to the story—one that pushes it firmly into the realm of the absurd."
Zaboru's grin widened. "There are zombies involved."
A beat of silence followed.
"Now," Zaboru added with a laugh, spreading his hands slightly, "what's worse than undead creatures? And what's worse than Nazis?" He leaned forward just enough to emphasize the punchline. "Yes—you're absolutely right. Undead Nazis."
He laughed openly, clearly enjoying the ridiculousness of the concept, while the room buzzed with a mix of surprise, curiosity, and dark amusement.
This project was directly based on Return to Castle Wolfenstein from Zaboru's previous life—a game he personally considered severely underrated despite its strong atmosphere, tight pacing, and bold ideas. In his view, the foundation was already excellent, which is why he had no intention of rewriting it from scratch. Instead, Zaboru planned to enhance the overall gameplay, modernize the mechanics, and expand enemy variety and level design, while keeping the original story largely intact. Its absurd tone—blending World War II, secret experiments, and supernatural elements—was exactly what gave the game its identity, and Zaboru believed removing that would strip away its soul.
As the explanation settled in, John Carmack raised his hand slightly, waiting for acknowledgement. Zaboru nodded toward him. "Boss," Carmack asked, "are these Nazis fictional as well, like in Medal of Honor? I mean, they're portrayed as Germans, but not direct representations of real-life counterparts, right?"
Zaboru nodded in agreement. "Yes, you're correct," he replied. "They're similar to the Nazis in our Medal of Honor games—clearly inspired by history, but not meant to be literal portrayals. However, they are different in some important ways."
He paused deliberately, a grin slowly spreading across his face. "In this world, their technology is far more advanced than anything that ever existed in real history. Experimental weapons, occult research, impossible machinery—things that push the setting far beyond realism."
Zaboru leaned back slightly and finished with unmistakable confidence. "And most importantly," he said, eyes glinting, "they're winning in this world."
Will Wright looked genuinely surprised, leaning forward slightly. "Boss, didn't ZAGE already have problems in the past with Medal of Honor? People said it wasn't historically accurate and even accused it of disrespecting history."
Zaboru chuckled softly, completely unfazed by the concern. "Will, we never disrespect history," he replied calmly. "We use alternate history. That distinction matters. We're not writing textbooks—we're creating worlds."
He folded his arms loosely and continued, his tone relaxed but confident. "And honestly, since when has criticism ever stopped ZAGE? If we listened to every complaint, we wouldn't have GTA, we wouldn't have Hitman, and we certainly wouldn't be sitting here planning Wolfenstein."
Zaboru smiled slightly. "Our job isn't to make everyone comfortable. Our job is to create bold genres, memorable stories, and gameplay that players actually want to experience. That's what we do best—and that's what built ZAGE in the first place."
John Romero grinned widely, nodding in approval. "Hell yes," he said without hesitation.
Chris Sawyer laughed and added, "That's exactly why we're here."
Peter Wayne let out a long sigh, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Well… ZAGE's recent games, especially GTA, already caused a lot of trouble," he said honestly. "And I'm willing to bet Hitman: Agent 47 is going to stir things up as well, considering what we let players do in that game. I just hope everything turns out fine."
Will Wright and Lucian Fred exchanged brief glances before nodding in agreement. Their expressions made it clear they shared the same concern—not fear, but cautious awareness of the public reaction that might come next.
Zaboru looked around the table and spoke with quiet confidence. "Don't worry about that," he assured them. "We're not doing anything wrong. We shouldn't limit our creativity just to satisfy people who don't even play our games."
He leaned forward slightly, his voice steady. "We make games for players, not for protesters. If we start designing based on outrage instead of passion, we lose what makes our work meaningful. You can't please everyone—especially not when you're creating something bold."
The tension in the room eased. One by one, everyone nodded in understanding, reassured by Zaboru's conviction and leadership.
Zaboru then continued the presentation, opening the floor for a brief Q&A session. Questions ranged from technical challenges to tone, pacing, and scope, all of which were addressed with clarity and confidence. By the end of the discussion, the roadmap was clear. Wolfenstein was scheduled for release in February 2000, giving the team roughly ten months to bring the project to life. With expectations aligned and responsibilities defined, the meeting was formally brought to a close.
Afterward, Zaboru's thoughts naturally shifted forward. He was expected to return to London soon to oversee Team OMNI, and this time, it wouldn't be a solitary trip. His family would finally be joining him there, visiting London together at last. The thought brought a quiet sense of excitement and warmth—something rare amid the constant pressure of leadership.
To be continue
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