Parallel World Game Developer

Chapter 43: Chapter #43: Just as we all expected...

On December 1st, the voting window officially closed, and the final tallies were permanently locked in.

From the absolute second the official polling channels opened until the final buzzer, the entire gaming community had been glued to their monitors, religiously watching the grueling process from start to finish.

Everyone watched as every single title developed by Sprout Studio skyrocketed to the number one spot right out of the gate.

In the middle of the month, the community had genuinely wondered if the massive corporate publishers would eventually catch up and overtake the indie titles.

But it never happened. When the voting kicked off in early November, the top three nominees in most categories were neck-and-neck, making it seem like the runner-ups could easily overtake the lead if their marketing teams just pushed a little harder.

However, as the days ticked by, the vote counts for Sprout Studio’s games continued to surge exponentially.

By mid-November, Ethan’s titles had already lapped the second-place nominees, commanding an insurmountable fifty percent lead.

The ranking battles for the remaining titles were incredibly fierce. Massive corporate publishers dumped millions into promotional campaigns and influencer bounties during the final stretch.

Overwhelming, high-budget advertisements flooded the internet, plastering every screen with the names of games both highly anticipated and completely unknown.

Jaw-dropping cinematic trailers and carefully curated gameplay clips were shoved in front of players at every possible turn.

But that ruthless, bloodthirsty corporate warfare didn’t belong to Ethan Vale, nor did it belong to Sprout Studio.

They hadn’t spent a single penny on marketing or promotional campaigns for the entire month, yet their vote counts continued to climb by millions every single day.

At the very beginning of the cycle, the publishers competing against Sprout Studio in the same categories had desperately tried to fight back.

But as time marched on, the industry executives quickly realized a terrifying truth.

No matter how much money they burned on targeted ads, they simply couldn’t shake the indie developer from the absolute top of the leaderboards.

By the middle of the month, Ethan’s games sat at the summit like towering, insurmountable mountains.

The rest of the industry could only stare up at the peak from a distance, completely paralyzed by despair.

At the beginning of December, Ethan and Marcus boarded a first-class flight to the United States.

"This is just incredibly terrifying..." Silver muttered, staring blankly at the finalized vote counts on his monitor.

Even as a content creator who wasn’t directly competing in the industry, seeing those suffocating, oppressive margins made it hard to breathe.

When the final numbers were officially locked, it suddenly dawned on him. The casual, arrogant comment the sadist had made during their live Discord call wasn’t a joke at all.

What was true dominance? This was the absolute definition of domination.

"I genuinely believe that even ten years from now, these massive corporate publishers will still wake up in a cold sweat, unable to forget the fear of being completely dominated by this absolute juggernaut," Silver said. He rubbed his chest slowly, trying to ease the heavy tension settling in his lungs.

He was currently co-streaming the official live broadcast of The Game Awards. On his screen, a massive multimedia LED wall dominated the physical stage.

The ceremony hadn’t officially kicked off yet, and the gigantic screens were looping gorgeous, high-fidelity CGI trailers from various nominated titles.

The broadcast cameras frequently panned across the sprawling auditorium. The velvet seats were already packed shoulder-to-shoulder with legendary game developers, studio executives, and prominent gaming journalists who had flown in for the event.

The house lights were dimmed low, and as the camera swept rapidly across the floor, viewers could only make out the shadowy silhouettes of the industry elite mingling in the aisles.

"Does it feel like the venue is a little bit empty this year, chat?" Silver asked, leaning closer to his monitor.

"Oh, wait, that actually makes perfect sense. If a single indie studio sweeps multiple massive categories, that means at least four or five massive development teams didn’t even bother showing up." Silver couldn’t clearly see the faces in the dark auditorium, but he could easily imagine the awkward, empty gaps in the seating arrangements.

The live metrics displayed on the internet reflected the global popular vote, which determined a staggering ninety percent of the final outcome.

The remaining ten percent was strictly reserved for the aggregate scores of the verified media jury.

The evaluation metrics used by gaming journalists often differed wildly from the general player base.

While gamers usually voted based on pure entertainment value and emotional resonance, the media jury graded titles on technical innovation, narrative structure, and overall production polish.

Therefore, even though the public vote tallies were completely locked, if the margins were tight enough, the media jury could completely flip the final result.

Because of this unpredictable ten percent swing, the top five nominees for every single category were heavily encouraged to attend the live ceremony.

Almost every year, the ceremony provided incredible drama when a critically acclaimed underdog leveraged the media vote to miraculously overtake a popular fan favorite at the very last second.

When the presenter finally opened the envelope, the ultimate winner was always a heart-pounding mystery.

That high-stakes tension was exactly what the global player base tuned in to watch. But for the categories dominated by Sprout Studio, there was absolutely zero drama to be found.

The indie studio’s public vote margins were so obscenely large that even a unanimous media jury couldn’t mathematically alter the outcome. Still, showing up as a top-five nominee was a deeply ingrained industry tradition.

After all, what if a miracle actually happened? If the host called a studio’s name and no one walked up to the stage to claim the trophy, it would be a catastrophic PR embarrassment.

Ethan Vale and Marcus Shaw sat comfortably in the plush theater seats marked with their official placards.

Their assigned placement was incredibly unique; they were seated in the VIP section, directly in the front rows.

Normally, the developers of smaller, low-budget indie titles were relegated to the back of the auditorium, leaving the front rows for the AAA titans. But Ethan was the undisputed exception to the rule.

Even though his production scale was small, his suffocating presence across multiple major categories commanded absolute respect.

And right now, sitting directly to Ethan’s left and right were two massive corporate heavyweights: Ivan and Carter flanked the young developer.

Right on schedule, a massive digital countdown timer materialized on the multimedia screen dominating the main stage.

The host stepped out into the spotlight, wearing a stunning, flowing blue-and-white evening gown.

Her long, golden blonde hair practically glowed under the intense stage lights, contrasting beautifully against her flawless, pale skin.

"Welcome to the official opening showcase of The Game Awards!" she announced with a radiant smile. Behind her, the massive LED screens smoothly transitioned into a dynamic montage of the year’s most iconic gaming posters.

Inside the massive auditorium, the dimly lit sea of attendees erupted into deafening applause.

The sound echoed heavily through the venue.

"Tonight’s ceremony is being broadcast live to millions of passionate gamers all across the globe," the host continued, her voice ringing with professional enthusiasm.

"We have invited an incredible lineup of celebrity guests and legendary producers to join us tonight. And naturally, that includes the most anticipated, talked-about figure in the entire industry," she teased, blinking playfully as she gazed out into the darkened VIP seating.

The broadcast cameras instantly followed her line of sight, panning across the front rows. The lens briefly focused on a calm, relaxed figure sitting in the shadows, though the lighting made it impossible to clearly distinguish his face.

"Wait, that silhouette actually looks a lot like the sadist," Silver muttered, leaning forward and analyzing the dark, blurry shape on his stream.

[PixelPusher99: Bro you’ve been traumatized so badly that everyone looks like the sadist to you now. But you’re right, it does look like him.]

[xX_NoobSlayer_Xx: Most anticipated figure?! Are you joking? Most players want to strangle him through the screen!]

[GamerDad88: Reminder: The ’Most Anticipated Developer’ award doesn’t actually have a physical trophy. It’s the only category where the votes are 100% anonymous and hidden from the public.]

[Culture_Man_69: I literally just vote for the dev of Wallpaper Engine every single year.]

[Waifu_Hunter: No matter how toxic the AAA gaming scene gets, the visual novel community remains pure and unbothered.]

[LoreMaster: I don’t think an 18+ dating sim has ever won a TGA award though...]

[CasualScrub: those devs have ascended past the mortal realm. they don’t care about mainstream awards...]

The blonde host stood center stage, speaking with genuine, infectious passion. Every time she announced a prominent game title, a fresh wave of thunderous applause washed over the auditorium.

The first few winners walked up to the podium one after another. The massive multimedia screens behind them looped high-octane, adrenaline-pumping gameplay clips to celebrate their victories.

"Next up, it is my absolute honor to announce the winner of a very special category," the blonde host smiled.

She held a sleek, sealed envelope containing the official results, which were hidden beneath a secure layer of scratch-off ink to prevent any premature leaks.

She didn’t know the winner beforehand; she had to physically scratch the card live on stage to reveal the results.

"Oh, this is a big one! The award for Best Independent Game," the host beamed, a look of fond, playful helplessness crossing her expressive face.

Holding the ceremonial coin in her hand, she quickly and smoothly scratched the metallic coating off the card without any hesitation.

"Oh," she laughed softly, leaning into the microphone. "Just as we all expected."