A few weeks after the success of the season finale, life at Beacon Studios began to shift. Ethan could feel it—there was a new sense of purpose in the air, a hunger to prove that the show's success wasn't a fluke. But even as the studio celebrated, a different kind of pressure began to weigh on Ethan's mind, something he had tried to ignore but couldn't any longer: the Star Ranking System.
In this world, success wasn't just measured by popularity or critical acclaim. Everyone in the entertainment industry—actors, directors, producers, and even studios—was assigned a ranking, from S at the top, to F at the bottom. These rankings defined everything. They determined who got the best roles, the highest-paying deals, and the most exposure. They dictated the hierarchy of fame, making it clear who had influence and who didn't.
And right now, Ethan was nowhere.
As he stood outside the production office, staring at the list of ranked stars on the industry's online database, the reality of the situation hit him hard. Despite the success of his show, despite everything he had accomplished, he wasn't even ranked. He didn't exist on the entertainment radar.
Liam came up behind him, peering over his shoulder at the rankings. "Still looking at that, huh?"
Ethan sighed, closing the browser window. "Yeah. I thought things would be different after the show took off, but… we're still at the bottom. Not even a mention."
Liam gave a half-hearted shrug. "The rankings system is a joke. Just because some actor gets an A or B ranking doesn't mean they're better than us. It's all about connections, money, and how many people you've impressed."
"I know," Ethan replied, "but it's still frustrating. We put in all this work, and it feels like none of it matters."
Liam nodded, his expression growing more serious. "Yeah, I get that. But we'll rise, man. It's going to take time."
Ethan wasn't sure how much time they had. The ranking system wasn't just about ego—it determined opportunities. The higher-ranked stars got all the attention, and the lower-tier ones, the Fs and Ds, were often treated as background noise. They were lucky to even get work.
And right now, Beacon Studios was mostly populated by D-ranked actors and crew. They had a reputation for producing low-budget, formulaic shows, and even after their recent success, it was clear they were still seen as small players in the larger entertainment world.
"Did you see that list of ranked producers?" Ethan asked, glancing at Liam. "They've got people ranked from S to F, just like actors. And guess where we are?"
Liam raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess… we're an F?"
"Not even that," Ethan replied. "We're not ranked at all. It's like we don't exist."
Liam let out a dry laugh. "Great. So we've managed to create a hit show, and we're still invisible."
The Star Rankings System was more than just a score—it was a public acknowledgment of where you stood in the industry. It meant everything to the big players, and for those like Ethan, who were just starting out, it was a constant reminder of how far they had to go.
Later that week, Ethan found himself in a meeting with Mr. Davis, discussing potential casting options for the second season. As they flipped through headshots of potential actors, Ethan noticed a distinct pattern—most of the names that came up were F and D-ranked stars. Talented, sure, but not the type to draw in a huge audience on name recognition alone.
"Can't we aim a little higher?" Ethan asked, flipping through the stack. "What about someone in the B or C tier? Someone who'll bring more visibility to the show?"
Davis gave him a look of mild amusement. "We can try, but the higher-ranked stars don't exactly come running to Beacon Studios. We're still considered a low-tier production company."
Ethan frowned. "But we've proven we can produce something successful."
Davis leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. "Success is one thing, but ranking is another. The higher-ranked actors… they're selective. They won't sign on to a project unless it boosts their own ranking. They're not interested in working with a show produced by people who aren't even ranked themselves."
Ethan's frustration grew. It felt like a catch-22. They couldn't attract higher-ranked stars without first raising their own status, but how were they supposed to raise their status without the star power to draw in bigger audiences?
"Look," Davis continued, "we'll keep doing what we're doing. The show's getting attention, and if we keep putting out quality work, the rankings will follow. But it's going to take time. In the meantime, we work with what we have."
Ethan knew Davis was right, but it didn't make the situation any less frustrating. Every actor they brought on board from the lower ranks only reinforced the perception that Beacon Studios wasn't playing in the big leagues.
A few days later, while on set, Ethan overheard a conversation between two of the actors—Luke, who had starred in their show, and a guest actor named Clint, who was D-ranked but well-known for playing minor roles in several network dramas.
Clint, with his casual swagger and a slight smirk, was clearly aware of his position in the hierarchy. "So," Clint said, glancing at Luke, "you're sticking with Beacon, huh? Gotta say, man, the show's good, but it's not going to get you anywhere with these guys."
Luke raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
Clint shrugged, his tone dripping with condescension. "Look around. You're talented, no question, but talent doesn't mean much when you're surrounded by a bunch of D-listers. You want to move up? You've got to get in with the B or A-tier crowd. Otherwise, you're stuck in the lower leagues."
Ethan felt a flash of anger as he listened. Clint's words were harsh, but they hit on a deeper truth. In this world, your rank mattered more than your work. And for people like Luke, who had given everything to the show, it was hard to hear that their effort might not translate into a higher status.
Luke, however, didn't take the bait. "I'm not here for the rankings," he said calmly. "I'm here because I believe in what we're doing. The rankings will come when they come."
Clint chuckled, shaking his head. "Suit yourself, man. But don't say I didn't warn you."
Ethan watched as Clint walked away, his frustration growing. It wasn't just about ego—it was about opportunity. The rankings controlled who had access to the best roles, the best deals, and the best projects. And right now, Beacon Studios was at the bottom.
That night, as Ethan sat in his apartment, the weight of it all pressed down on him. The success of the show had given him a taste of what it was like to create something meaningful, but now he saw how much more there was to climb. The Star Rankings System was a brutal reality, and it wasn't going to change overnight.
But as frustrating as it was, Ethan knew one thing for sure: he wasn't going to let the rankings define him.
The next morning, he met with Liam and the rest of the team. "We're not stopping," Ethan said, his voice steady. "We're going to keep pushing, keep creating. The rankings will come eventually, but we're not going to chase them. We're going to make something so good that they'll have no choice but to take notice."
Liam nodded, a determined smile on his face. "Agreed. We'll rise through the ranks, but we'll do it on our terms."
Ethan felt the fire of determination reignite within him. The Star Rankings System may have been the rule of the land, but that didn't mean they had to play by its rules. They would rise, but they would do it by creating something truly great.
And soon, the world would have no choice but to recognize them.