At the end of the month, Northstar Games held its annual summary meeting, and when the numbers were laid out, even the people inside the company had to admit one thing—this year had been insane.
Starting in April, Northstar had released game after game with almost unnatural speed. Nearly every month, players got something new, and by October, the company dropped its biggest bomb yet—Cyberpunk 2077.
Now two months had passed since its launch, but the game still sat at the top of the charts like a king that refused to move.
That was not just because of the main story.
It was because players kept finding reasons to return.
The sandbox mode alone had trapped people for hundreds of extra hours. The version of Night City made by Northstar felt alive in a way very few games ever achieved. Streets were packed with details, side systems mattered, hidden interactions rewarded curiosity, and the city never felt like a backdrop. It felt like a place.
One of the biggest reasons players stayed for so long was the Braindance (BD) system.
Northstar had fully realized the idea. It was no longer just a hollow feature used for story moments. Instead, players could actually buy and use BDs across the city. Some had short stories. Some had mini-games. Some contained weird jokes, hidden references, or fragments tied to Northstar's previous games. Others even let players experience emotional, humorous, or tragic moments from outside the main plot.
That one design choice won the hearts of countless players.
In Night City, if a BD was sold in a store, then it could actually be used.
Simple.
Natural.
Respectful to the player.
And that was exactly why people kept praising Northstar. The company never treated features like decoration. If it existed in the world, it needed to matter.
Then there was the gift Northstar had prepared for Edgerunners fans.
After clearing the main story, players could unlock a hidden chain quest. By following scattered clues through the city, they would eventually discover Rebecca's weapon hidden deep in a patch of overgrown brush. That alone was enough to hit players right in the chest. But Northstar did not stop there.
The follow-up quest brought in messages from Falco and Lucy.
Neither of them appeared on screen directly, but Lucy's voice reached the player in a quiet, emotional message that instantly spread across the entire fan community.
That moment hit hard.
For many fans, the ending of Edgerunners had always carried a painful question—did Lucy keep living, or did she eventually give up after losing David?
People had debated it for years.
But now, hearing her voice again changed everything.
She was still alive.
Still carrying the weight of what happened.
Still moving forward.
And in its own gentle way, the game gave players hope.
That alone made the hidden quest unforgettable.
So of course Cyberpunk 2077 had not fallen off the charts. A game with over a hundred hours of content, plus another hundred hours of meaningful sandbox play, was not something players would abandon in two months. If anything, people wanted more.
Forums, streams, and community pages were already full of the same demand:
Where is the DLC?
Where are the updates?
When is the next expansion coming?
But game development did not work like magic. Even if players were shouting every day, Northstar could not throw out major updates overnight.
Still, one thing was certain—Cyberpunk 2077 had become one of the hottest games in the world.
And because of that, Northstar's yearly summary looked glorious on paper.
Profits were huge.
But so were expenses.
Cyberpunk 2077 had only just begun to truly pay back its investment, and the moment it started making real money, Northstar immediately threw that money into new projects.
The biggest example was their next title.
Even before the new game had a proper reveal, the company had already spent an outrageous amount on promotion. The two animated CG trailers for the new project had entered full production, and in barely over ten days, the cost had already crossed into eight figures.
Tens of millions.
Just for trailers.
And not one trailer.
Two.
Only Northstar would dare do something like that.
Most studios waited until a game was nearly done before investing heavily in cinematic marketing. Northstar did the opposite. The project had only just begun, and they were already treating it like the next giant hit.
The two CGs being made were some of the strongest material Ethan Reed could possibly bring forward. One was the legendary "Dragons" cinematic, and the other was the even more iconic "This World Needs More Heroes."
The animation team estimated two months to complete both. Meanwhile, the game itself would need roughly three to five months of development. In other words, the trailers alone were taking almost half as much time as the core game production.
That sounded crazy.
But for Ethan, it made perfect sense.
He already knew what kind of impact this game could have.
So during the year-end summary, he decided there was no point hiding things any longer.
Northstar announced that next year, the company would officially enter the online gaming market.
The reaction was immediate.
The entire industry shook.
Single-player games and online games were not the same battlefield. Many studios were brilliant at one and terrible at the other. Being good at story-driven titles did not mean you could run a long-term live service game.
So once Ethan's statement hit the public, the arguments began.
Under his Official Blog post, many fans begged him not to do it.
They told him to stay with single-player games.
They said the domestic market needed Northstar to keep raising standards in story games.
They worried that online games would drag the company into greedy design, shallow updates, and endless monetization traps.
But not everyone doubted him.
A much larger group believed something else.
They believed in Ethan Reed.
After all, how many times had he already done the impossible?
How many times had he taken an idea that sounded ridiculous and turned it into a sensation?
That question sparked a huge community discussion.
Do you support Northstar Games making online games?
The poll results were clear.
More than 110,000 people voted yes.
Just over 30,000 voted no.
The players had spoken.
Most of them were willing to trust Ethan again.
That trust affected him more than he expected.
It also strengthened his resolve.
This new game had to succeed.
It could not become one of those tragedies where a brilliant foundation got buried under bad decisions, confused updates, and terrible long-term management. Ethan had seen that happen before, and he had no intention of repeating it.
So on New Year's Eve, Northstar did something unusual.
The company accepted a media interview.
The ones sitting for the interview were Vivian Frost, Ethan Reed, and Daniel. Representing the media side was Skybound, which came not only as a platform partner, but also as the voice of curious players everywhere.
That was because Ethan had vanished after making the announcement.
He said Northstar was making an online game and then disappeared.
No genre details.
No system explanation.
Nothing.
Players were going wild trying to guess.
Some were convinced Northstar was making an MMORPG.
Others thought it would be a card-based online title.
A few guessed a co-op sandbox game, but that theory died quickly because Northstar's subsidiary had already done something close to that.
In the end, the loudest guesses were still MMORPG and turn-based online RPG.
The debates became so intense that even community moderators got involved, writing huge analysis posts and breaking down possibilities like amateur detectives.
Eventually, the noise reached Lucas Frost at Skybound.
Seeing the traffic potential instantly, he pushed for an interview.
That was how the New Year's Eve stream was born.
By the time the live broadcast started, tens of thousands of viewers had already flooded the room.
On camera sat the three key faces of Northstar—Vivian, Ethan, and Daniel.
Across from them was Director Cole, handling the interview.
He smiled and opened with the question everyone had been waiting for.
"Players have been discussing your next game nonstop. So… can you finally reveal what type of game it is?"
Ethan took the question directly.
"It's a shooter," he said calmly. "More specifically, it's an FPS game. But it won't be a traditional one. We're combining it with a new structure. We want to create a game that changes how players understand FPS titles."
That answer immediately caused an explosion in the chat.
Some viewers were excited because the gunplay in Cyberpunk 2077 had already proven Northstar could handle shooting mechanics.
Others were skeptical.
How much could an FPS really change?
But Ethan kept his confidence steady.
Director Cole leaned forward. "Then when can players expect it?"
Ethan smiled. "If all goes well, four months. As everyone knows, Northstar rarely delays."
That answer alone made viewers cheer.
High output and high quality—those had become Northstar's signature.
Then came the dangerous question.
Director Cole asked, "How will the game charge players? Subscription? Item shop? What model are you planning?"
That question mattered.
In a competitive shooter, fairness was everything. Subscription models felt awkward. Selling stronger weapons would destroy balance. Cosmetic monetization existed, but few companies had proven they could make it work consistently in a new game.
So people listened very carefully.
Ethan answered with four simple words.
"The game will be free."
Director Cole visibly paused.
The chat exploded again.
But Ethan was not finished.
"We'll use a new monetization model," he said. "A battle pass."
That term confused almost everyone watching.
Director Cole quickly asked him to explain.
Ethan nodded. "Players can choose whether they want to buy the pass. As they play and level it up, they unlock rewards. These rewards will not affect balance. No pay-to-win. We're talking about skins, voice lines, emotes, and cosmetic content."
For a moment, Director Cole did not know what to say.
Could that really make money?
Ethan, however, was completely calm.
He understood something many people in the current market still had not grasped—players did not always hate paying. What they hated was feeling cheated. A battle pass made spending feel optional, clear, and rewarding. It encouraged active play, strengthened retention, and gave players visible goals without damaging fairness.
If the game was good, people would buy in willingly.
If the game was addictive, they would keep playing.
And if they kept playing, the system would feed itself.
The rest of the interview moved quickly. Daniel answered technical questions about the project's development. Vivian spoke about Northstar's future expansion and company direction. Ethan answered a few broader questions about the types of games Northstar wanted to explore next.
The stream lasted only around forty minutes, but it was packed with value.
When it ended, Lucas Frost and Director Cole flew back to prepare overnight coverage, while players across the country were left with one overwhelming feeling—
Anticipation.
Because Ethan had not looked nervous.
He had not looked uncertain.
He looked like a man who already knew he was right.
And when Ethan Reed carried that kind of confidence, players could not help believing him.
So the days kept moving.
Soon it was early February.
The Little New Year had already passed, and the Spring Festival was approaching on the tenth. Northstar prepared for the holiday early this time. Daniel's team had been running nonstop ever since Cyberpunk 2077, and after a short break, they had gone right into the new project. So now, Ethan finally gave them time off.
The team would rest for Spring Festival.
There was no need to force endless overtime when the schedule was still healthy.
And there was more good news.
The CG trailers were done.
On February 6th, at two in the afternoon, Northstar's newly created official accounts for the new game went live on BiliZone and the Official Blog.
The account name was simple.
Overwatch.
Then, that very afternoon, Northstar's main account, Ethan's account, and the company's BiliZone channel all reposted the same video and message.
The title was short.
Powerful.
Impossible to ignore.
"This world needs more heroes."
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