"It's honestly laughable—a game company puts everything into a new title and still ends up with a sales disaster. This just proves that every company has its limits. No one can stay at the top forever. And what are they doing now? Trying to expand into other industries, making movies? Do they really think they're untouchable just because they're kings of the gaming world?"
Alfonso was in a great mood.
He'd recently learned, through certain channels, about the current state of Gamestar Electronic Entertainment.
A game personally overseen by their legendary president Takayuki had underperformed in sales. That was a major flop by their standards.
And they still wanted to get into filmmaking? Clearly, they didn't care about their players or their audience—they just wanted to make what they wanted to make.
Eagerly, he opened his laptop and logged onto Facebook.
There was already a flood of posts in the community complaining that Monster Hunter was too hard. Players said the game was pushing them away, and many regretted buying it.
Of course, a small group of players were also raving about how much they loved the high difficulty.
The game was clearly polarizing—either you loved it or hated it.
...
...
Seeing the complaints dominate the conversation only made Alfonso more pleased.
Just a short while ago, many of these same users were passionately defending Gamestar, defending Takayuki.
But now? Now Gamestar had turned around and ignored their feedback, pushing forward with a high-difficulty game that alienated them.
Alfonso started typing slowly and smugly:"I said this long ago—Gamestar Electronic Entertainment is an irresponsible company. They're trying to force their way into the film industry while losing grip on their core market. This might be the beginning of their decline."
He hit send, satisfied, then turned his attention to his own movie project, which was only a few days from release.
Mocking Takayuki online was fun, but what really mattered was his own box office success.
He had even acquired access to a third-party license for the Unreal Engine through certain discreet channels, and immediately tasked his team with implementing it in the final stretch of the movie.
The final visual effects scenes were all built using Unreal, and the results were genuinely impressive.
The Unreal Engine could produce effects of 90% quality at only 50–60% the cost of other tools.
It was, simply put, an incredible piece of tech—and Alfonso had grown quite fond of it.
Gamestar really did have some tricks up their sleeve. No wonder they thought about entering the film world too.
If he had been the one to develop the Unreal Engine, he'd probably want to jump into films as well.
But in Alfonso's eyes, Gamestar had clearly lost focus.
His own movie was now finished—though there was one small flaw. The final few minutes of visual effects had a slightly different color and style, due to the mid-production switch to Unreal.
It wasn't something most moviegoers would notice—only professionals might catch it. Still, he was having his team tweak the VFX to smooth over any stylistic inconsistencies before the official release.
Once that was done, he happily returned to Facebook to check for reactions to his earlier post.
What he found, however, was not what he expected.
"Who are you? Sure, we're complaining about Monster Hunter's difficulty, but that doesn't mean it's a bad game. It's just not for everyone. You don't get to trash Gamestar like that. Can you do better?"
"Even if Gamestar had ten flops in a row, their status would still be untouchable."
"You must just be some internet loudmouth. I bet you're a total loser in real life."
"Wait a sec—isn't this guy Alfonso? That movie guy? Looks like he's scared of the Final Fantasy VII film going up against his own."
"So this is all about fear, huh? Instead of making a better film, he's trying to smear the competition. Pathetic."
Alfonso's face turned green.
What the hell was going on?
Weren't these people just bashing Gamestar a moment ago? Shouldn't they be hating Takayuki right now?
But instead, they were suddenly defending him?
These days, the most active people online were all under 20.
And almost all of them had grown up with Takayuki's games. Gamestar was practically part of their childhood.
Monster Hunter's backlash wasn't about poor quality—it was about being too difficult. The rest of the game's polish and craftsmanship were still top-tier.
So most players simply saw it as a game that wasn't for them. No big deal—they'd just wait for Takayuki's next project.
One tough game wasn't enough to shake their faith.
In their hearts, Takayuki was still the Game God.
But Alfonso had completely missed this point.
Now, replies were flooding in, overwhelming his original post. It was like being buried under an avalanche of angry fans.
Unbelievable!
This internet thing was full of nothing but malice.
It was dangerous. Unhealthy. A cesspool.
He needed to stay away from it before it poisoned his mind.
Frustrated, Alfonso deleted Facebook from his bookmarks and swore never to return.
As he sat in his office, he gave a cold laugh.
"Afraid of Final Fantasy VII? Please."
Why would he be afraid of a movie that couldn't even get into mainstream theaters?
What could it possibly achieve—some pitiful streaming clicks?
Clicks don't make money.
And if a movie can't make money, then what's the point?
Final Fantasy VII wasn't even some artistic, award-bait movie. It was just a CGI-heavy money pit.
He, Alfonso, was standing on solid ground.
Gamestar would never beat him.
He didn't believe otherwise for a second.