The dawn of the new millennium shone brightly outside Alexander Evergreen's bedroom window, bathing his face in golden light as he sat hunched over his computer desk. Using the skills he had honed during his previous life his fingers flew across the keyboard with practiced ease, eyes darting rapidly between flickering code windows and 3D game models. Months of late nights fueled by passion had accumulated in the creation of his ambitious game, "Strike Force."
Alexander leaned back from the screen, brushing a hand through his already messy white hair. A smile curled his lips as he admired his creation. The game was unlike anything he had previously developed, combining cutting-edge graphics with addictive first-person shooter gameplay. Players could battle relentless zombie hordes across intricately designed maps, unlocking an arsenal of unique weapons along the way.
But the innovation Alexander was most apprehensive about was the inclusion of "loot boxes." These virtual crates contained randomized cosmetic items players could acquire through gameplay or—more controversially—by spending real money. It was a novel but potentially predatory system.
The loot box system allowed players to obtain custom skins for their characters and weapons, as well as emotes to express themselves in the game. Upon reaching level 5, players were rewarded with a free loot box, and additional loot boxes could be acquired through gameplay or purchased. It was a gamble, an infusion of chance into the gaming experience.
Alexander found himself torn. On one hand, he recognized the financial potential this system presented, a way to support his family and their dreams. On the other hand, he was apprehensive about introducing an element that had drawn criticism in his past life for potentially exploiting players through microtransactions.
'Must I release this evil upon the world' he pondered, bearing the weight of his decision.
Letting out a conflicted sigh, Alexander minimized his work and headed downstairs. The comforting scents of his mother Katherine's blueberry pancakes soon replaced his anxiety with warm nostalgia.
At the kitchen table, Alexander devoured a generous stack smothered in maple syrup, savoring each familiar bite. His older brother Charlie sat adjacent, shoveling pancakes into his mouth at an impressive pace between enthusiastic chatter about his basketball team's chances in the upcoming playoffs.
Katherine smiled fondly at her sons, her emerald eyes crinkling at the corners. "My growing boys. Always hungry," she said, delivering another round of pancakes. Alexander thanked her gratefully, the sweet flavors improving his mood.
After breakfast, the Evergreens decided to visit the mall, eager for quality time together away from work and school. Strolling the crowded corridors provided a welcome distraction for Alexander. He gazed absently into shop windows, the vibrant splashes of color and excited families eliciting a wistful smile.
As Alexander passed the neon-lit entrance of the mall's arcade, something grabbed his attention—the faintly familiar synth tones of retro game music. Drawn by nostalgia, he ventured inside, his eyes immediately landing on a cabinet near the rear.
"Street Brawler 3rd Fight," he murmured, a grin spreading across his face. He had spent countless hours battling friends in a similar fighting game during his past life. Unable to resist, Alexander approached and inserted a quarter. As he grasped the worn joystick, muscle memory instantly took over.
His fingers danced across the controls, executing flashy combos with practiced finesse. A crowd gradually gathered to watch this apparent prodigy pummel his hapless computer opponent. But Alexander was lost in the past, his only focus the rhythmic impacts on the screen.
Until a new challenger stepped up. "Think you're tough stuff, huh?" challenged a brazen female voice.
Alexander turned to see a girl about his age with dark brown eyes and shoulder-length, raven-black hair. Her arms were crossed and her hip cocked confidently as she sized him up.
"My name's Sakura just in case you want to know the name of the girl who's gonna kick your butt," she declared.
Alex couldn't help but wonder if kids were always this brazen. But he chuckled nonetheless, "Fair enough. I'm Alexander."
As the round began, Alexander quickly realized Sakura was no amateur. She matched him blow for blow, executing advanced techniques with precision timing. Her eyes narrowed in intense focus, determined to overcome this unexpected challenge.
The first match ended swiftly in Sakura's favor, her cocky grin matching her victory. But Alexander remained unperturbed, his own skills sharpening as their sets continued. Slowly but surely, he began taking the upper hand, eventually securing a flawless victory.
As Sakura watched her last sliver of health deplete. Her initial bravado, Sakura's demeanor shifted from arrogance to disbelief. Hands clenching into fists, she turned on Alexander. "Who the heck are you? Some arcade hustler slumming it at the mall?"
Alexander contemplated for a moment if this could be considered bullying a child but in the end, he shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm just a guy who enjoys the classics. Alexander Evergreen, at your service," he replied with an exaggerated bow, eliciting an eye roll from Sakura.
"Well you're not bad, you're no pushover," Sakura admitted, her competitive spirit now mixed with a hint of admiration.
As their competition progressed, the initial bravado gave way to mutual respect and camaraderie. Their persistent one-upmanship drove them to new heights, two rivals pushing each other's limits. As they chatted, they discovered that they lived in the same neighborhood and they even went to the same school though Sakura was in the grade above him. Somehow their paths had never crossed before.
Their connection deepened over the course of the day as they competed in various games that the arcade had to offer. They continued to play until they eventually had to part ways when the day ended.
Though their separation didnt last long when one day Sakura's curiosity led her to unexpectedly show up at Alexander's door. Surprised to find Sakura and unconsciously blurted out, "What are you doing here?"
Sakura shrugged, "Why not? Not a crime, is it?"
A bemused smile tugged at Alexander's lips, "Well no I don't really care I was just a bit surprised is all." As he let Sakura into his room she took in the scenery.
It was a clean room with lots of books lining the walls. She could see various musical instruments, as well as various posters, paintings, and drawings, hung on the walls. There was also an art easel in the corner of the room. Even though all these things should make things cluttered there was actually a sense of harmony.
But what caught her eye the most was the girl reclining on his bed singing along to the song that was playing over the speakers.
"Who's that?" asked pointing to the blonde girl.
"Oh, that's Alice… Hey Alice come say hello." He said as we walked over to her and gave her a nudge.
"Wha, oh I didn't realize someone else was here." She said as she got off the bed and came toward Sakura. "My name's Alice Montgomery nice to meet you."
"Sakura Hayashi" the girl replied curtly.
"Alex, how come I didn't know you made a new friend?" Alice asked with a grin.
"We aren't friends" Sakura chimed in.
Alice looked between Alex and Sakura and put on a confused look. "Hmm, then what are you?"
Sakura crossed her arms and replied without hesitation, "Rivals."
"Ohh rivals I see and here I thought Alex made a friend. He usually keeps to himself in school." Alice said causing Alexander to roll his eyes.
"By the way what are you listening to?" Sakura asked with slight curiosity.
"Oh it's the new Britney Lance CD I can let you borrow it if you want," Alice said eager to convert another fan.
"Maybe another time," Sakura responded waving off her attempt. "So you got any video games?"
"Yeah, I do, oh but I might have something that you might be more interested in," Alex said as he led them towards the computer room.
With a raised eyebrow Sakura asked, "What is it?"
"A little something I've been developing." Alexander quickly sat down and pulled up his game, unveiling "Strike Force" before Sakura's incredulous gaze.
"Woah, you're making a video game?" she asked incredulously. "Aren't you like 8?"
"I'm 9 and just look." He replied his eyes still focused on the computer screen in front of him.
Intrigued, Sakura pulled up a chair. "Well don't keep me in suspense, let's see it!"
With a hint of pride, Alexander showcased his creation. As Sakura watched the slick graphics and intense action unfold, her skepticism vanished. "Holy crap no way a kid made this. This is seriously professional-grade stuff. How the heck did you pull this off?"
Alexander smiled at the praise. "I've been into game design for a few years now. Taught myself how to code and everything. This is the biggest project I've done."
"And you did this all yourself?" Sakura asked, impressed.
"For the most part, yeah," Alexander nodded. "Alice has helped some. But the programming and design is all me."
Now deeply curious, Sakura spent the rest of the day glued to Alexander's side, bombarding him with questions as he demonstrated more of "Strike Force." Her excitement and gaming insights were invaluable, further motivating Alexander in his creation.
Over the following weeks, Sakura became his first player and bug tester, tirelessly testing features and offering blunt feedback. Her unfiltered criticism helped refine the game significantly. In return, Alexander introduced Sakura to the world of game development, teaching her coding basics and letting her tinker with new mechanics. Their skills complemented each other perfectly.
One afternoon while reviewing some new weapon skins Sakura had modeled, Alexander decided to open up about his lingering concerns with "Strike Force's" monetization.
"The game has these loot boxes, see? Players can unlock them through gameplay or buy them with real money," he explained, noting Sakura's deepening frown. "They're just cosmetics, no gameplay advantages. But still, I'm worried they might be a bit manipulative."
Sakura leaned back in her chair, steepling her fingers. "Let me get this straight. You made a super badass game, but you're worried about letting people spend their cash on useless crap like costumes for their fake guns?"
Alexander nodded hesitantly. "I mean, when you put it that way, it sounds kind of silly..."
"Dude, listen," Sakura interjected bluntly. "If some idiot wants to waste money on pointless cosmetics, that's their problem. You're not forcing anyone. And who knows, those whales might just help float your game's servers. I say go for it."
Her pragmatic words resonated with Alexander, prompting him to reconsider his approach. Sakura was right—giving players the choice to support "Strike Force" in a way that didn't impact gameplay might be mutually beneficial after all.
With renewed determination, Alexander made his decision—the loot box system would remain. His priority was funding his family's business and making "Strike Force" a success. Players would still have plenty of options to earn cosmetics through regular gameplay as well. It seemed like a fair compromise.
"When did you get so wise about business strategies?" Alexander joked.
"Hey, I know dumb game design when I see it. But this loot stuff is fine," Sakura said confidently. "Anyway, enough talk. Let's blow some more zombie heads off!"
With Sakura's blessing, the last barrier was removed. Alexander devoted his energy to completing "Strike Force," polishing the mechanics until they shone. Sakura provided pivotal feedback and ideas, helping elevate the game significantly. Their regular gaming marathons and inside jokes reinforced an easy, and authentic chemistry between them.
Meanwhile, amidst the digital battles and bug testing, Alexander's creative spirit continued to thrive. The Chronicles of Everwyn had captured the hearts of everyone to whom he showed it to, igniting their imaginations and sparking a desire for more. With his family's support and Alice's encouragement, he began crafting the sequel to his first book, delving deeper into the world he had brought to life.