At ten in the morning, Ethan Reed stepped out of a cab and walked toward the glass doors of Northstar Games. The lobby sensor chimed. Keyboards paused; chairs rolled back. He glanced up to find half the studio staring at him.
Daniel, head of programming, was already typing furiously again, but not before sneaking a look. The art lead Ava Cross hunched over her tablet, sketching a misty grove for Sword and Fairy 4, stylus dancing, yet even she peeked up when the door beeped. Someone near reception whispered, "Lead Planner Reed," and suddenly everyone's eyes were on him.
Ethan lifted a hand in an awkward wave. "Morning. Why are you all looking at me like I've grown a second head?"
Sam Parker, the closest to the door, shook his head too fast. "No reason!" he said, eyes still locked on Ethan's face.
Ethan touched his cheek. "Did I spill coffee on myself?" The stares were odd. It had only been one weekend, and somehow he felt like a stranger returning from a year-long voyage.
He shook it off and stepped into Vivian Frost's office.
The moment his door closed, the bullpen erupted.
"Was that really Lead Planner Reed's own song? I looped it on Kuku all weekend!"
"It's his! Didn't you see Northstar Games credited for arrangement and lyrics?"
"Be real—what exactly is the relationship between Boss Frost and Lead Planner Reed?"
"There's no way it's just boss and employee. Would a boss bring an employee breakfast every day and drive him home after work? Come on…"
Laughter broke out. Hushed speculation filled the room.
The reason for the buzz was simple: "Keywords," the theme for Night of the Full Moon, had exploded. As Northstar staff, they'd all listened the instant it dropped. And then they had to sit down. It was simply that good.
"What is Lead Planner Reed?" one programmer asked, half serious. "A game designer who also writes charting music?"
"Don't forget," another replied, "he caught a logic bug in my code that Daniel missed. One glance and he flagged the exact line."
From the art team came another wave of praise.
"If you want to talk skills," someone said, "his drawing is the scary part. Luna Ash—the way he inked her, playful and bright, like she was stepping out of a watercolor dream."
"Mira Vale is the one that broke me," another added. "If that sketch weren't under wraps, I'd post it so my old classmates could see. They said art has no future. Could they draw like that in ten more years?"
The room filled with low whistles and "no way"s—until Daniel appeared, cleared his throat, and raised his voice.
"Okay, hype time's over. It's work hours."
Chairs squeaked. Conversations dissolved. The clack of keys returned.
Inside the office, Ethan had no idea any of that had happened. He and Vivian were quietly sharing breakfast. Her plan, recently, was to avoid "the stares problem" by having him eat in her office. It wasn't that she was stingy—there was a snack corner stocked with chips, bread, and fizzy drinks for everyone—but showing up with two hot soups and not thirty was a quick way to fuel rumors. So: private breakfast.
Today's order was lamb noodle soup. Vivian had asked to drown hers in chili oil and now immediately regretted it. Her cheeks glowed; her temples were damp; she'd already drained half a bottle of water.
"Why do you do this to yourself?" Ethan asked, amused.
"For flavor," she puffed, "and because I'm brave."
He smiled. "You're a menace."
"Speaking of brave—there's something I need to tell you." She set her bowl down and fanned her mouth. "We might need a business trip soon."
"Business trip?" Ethan put his chopsticks aside.
"Skybound just invited us to their Autumn Game Exhibition on September 10," she said, eyes sparkling despite the chili. "Also, we got nominated for the Summer Game Awards. Actually… both of our games are nominated."
Bold news landed like a bell in the small office.
Vivian looked at him with bright, hopeful eyes. "I want you to come with me."
"Sword and Fairy 4 is still—" Ethan began, ready to protest.
"It's two days, tops," she cut in quickly. "Daniel can hold the fort. I'll tell him."
This was her first time being invited by Skybound as a developer. She was excited—and a little shy. If they won anything, going onstage terrified her. Talking? That was Ethan's job.
As for whether they would win… Vivian didn't hesitate. Night of the Full Moon would win something. In her heart, Best Art belonged to it already.
"Please?" she said, hands pressed together in a mock prayer, eyes wide and pleading. "Please, please, please?"
Ethan pinched the bridge of his nose, hiding a smile. She always claimed she didn't "do cute." This was weaponized adorable. He could practically feel his stats shifting: resistance -10, sanity -10, excitement +20, satisfaction +30.
Being begged by a beautiful boss… it did things to a man.
"Okay," he said at last. "Two days. I'm in. Where is it?"
Vivian flashed a V-sign. "Phoenix Port, Convention and Exhibition Center. Three-hour flight. I checked the map—airport to venue is close. For the hotel… is it too early to book?"
She sprang up to message Skybound. Ethan, watching her bounce around, shook his head, smiling.
"Boss," he added, "ask if—when—we win an award, we can mention our new game in the speech."
"Oh! Great idea!" She bent over her phone again, typing fast.
Where was the cool boss aura now? She looked like an overcaffeinated mascot—and he loved it.
A game exhibition. His first as a producer. He wondered what would happen.
---
Skybound Headquarters — Same Morning
In a bright conference room on the third floor, Manager Zane faced eighteen team leads. He spoke with the calm of a judge and the weight of a teacher.
"Our strength is integrity," he said. "We are the hands and the voice of the players. Player-first is our core."
He began the roll call for the 21st Domestic Summer Game Awards—thirteen categories in all.
"Summer Best Online Game Bestseller—nominations: Great Dream Immortal, Divine Demon World 2, Iron Cavalry Battle Song."
The leaders started talking at once, comparing charts, reviews, playtime, and support rates. They argued, then voted. The secretary recorded the outcome.
Next:
"Summer Best-Selling Mobile Game—nominations: Battlefield Elite, Great River World, Meng Duoduo World."
Another whirl of data and debate. Another vote.
Category by category, they worked the list—until Manager Zane adjusted his glasses and said, "Now, single-player."
The room quieted.
"Summer Bestselling Game—nominations: getting over it, Night of the Full Moon, Fantasy Castle, Mengqu Duoduo."
Discussion rose again. After a long while, the vote was cast.
On the secretary's page:
Winner — Summer Bestselling Game: getting over it, with 180,000 monthly units at its peak, 300,000 lifetime. A strong chart record, even with softer later months.
Manager Zane nodded and moved on.
"Summer Best Narrative—nominations: Night of the Full Moon, My War Story, Song of Life."
As he spoke, his gaze flicked to Night of the Full Moon. The game had become the surprise of the season—quiet, precise, and loved.
Votes came in. The secretary's pen scratched steadily.
"Summer Best Art—nominations: Night of the Full Moon, Fantasy Castle, Fantasy Story."
"Summer Player's Voice—nominations: Night of the Full Moon, Song of Life, Mengqu Duoduo."
"Summer Most Innovative—nominations: Night of the Full Moon, Fantasy Story, Dragon Egg Bounce."
Three hours later, all thirteen awards had results. There would be one more phase—review and verification—then the winners would be final.
Twice a year, Skybound gave awards: Summer in the first half, and Annual in the second. The Annual awards had more categories and more weight, but Summer still mattered.
Winners received a month of promotional resources and a trophy with certificates. It wasn't small. For an indie, it could change a year.
When the meeting ended, Manager Zane stayed behind, rubbing his temples. The room was suddenly too quiet.
The door swung open. A middle-aged man in a suit hurried in, grinning. "Old Zane, I've got your answer. The Northstar lead said yes. Am I a great friend or what? I came in person with the reply."
"Logan Fairchild," Zane said, half relieved. "Don't tease me. What did Boss Frost say?"
"They'll attend the exhibition," Logan replied, "but there's a small request. If they win an award, can they mention Northstar's new game in the acceptance speech?"
He chuckled. "Pretty confident, huh? I mean, sure, domestic studios leaned hard into mobile lately, but for a small company like Northstar to bag an award? Isn't that a stretch? Maybe getting over it takes Bestseller. Last I saw, it had already broken a hundred thousand."
"Difficult?" Zane gave him a look, then noticed the travel fatigue in Logan's eyes. "You just got back from the Drake City expo, didn't you?"
"This morning," Logan said. "I barely put my bag down."
Zane slid a folder across the table. "Look."
Logan scanned the sheet. His eyebrows climbed.
"Holy—five nominations? Four awards? Is this real?"
"It's real," Zane said. "A lot happened while you were away. Check the news."
Logan nodded, shame crowding out his earlier doubt. He gathered the sheets with both hands, careful now.
"I'll catch up on everything," he said. "We'll align comms the moment I'm back with the team."
Zane exhaled.
Normally, winning two awards was already a triumph. It was rare—almost unheard of—for one game to sweep multiple categories. Organizers preferred to spread the flowers, and besides, most games didn't excel in every way.
But the single-player scene was in a slump. Skybound fought to prop it up, offering better storefront space and fairer cuts, yet studios kept choosing online and mobile. The money lasted longer there. The profit curve was predictable. Single-player took time, risk, and luck.
Mobile could be art-forward and still funnel users into gachas and loot boxes—nesting dolls of monetization.
Skybound, however, lived by a promise: players decide. The awards reflected player choice, first and last.
Night of the Full Moon had sold 260,000 and held a 98% support rate, outpacing second place by 11 points.
What did that mean?
Overwhelming public support.
Zane knew some folks would misread the results. They'd say Skybound was fading, that the garden had withered from "a hundred blossoms" to one plant swallowing half the ribbons. But he also knew the rule.
This is Skybound.
Players are our north star.
Even if experts could list flaws, if players loved it, it mattered.
He looked at the empty chairs and imagined the headlines.
The Summer Awards would cause a stir.
And it was strange, in a way. Northstar Games had once been a small studio making forgettable web titles. Then one summer changed everything.
Rags to riches. Rumor to respect.
He smiled despite himself.
Some stories write themselves.
---
Back at Northstar, Vivian returned to her desk and flashed Ethan a thumbs-up.
"They said yes. If we win, we can talk about the new game."
A tiny victory now—maybe a bigger one soon.
Ethan finished his soup and stood. "Let's get back to it. If we're going to stand on that stage, the build needs to sing."
Vivian grinned. "Then let's make it sing."
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