WALL-E: The Apocalyptic Game Developer

Danica Takami was your average twenty-something: coffee-addicted, mildly sarcastic, chronically online. A full-time college student by day, full-time VRMMO game streamer by night.

But behind her casual façade hid a reputation feared across the VR gaming community.

They called her The Nitpicking Queen.

Armed with wit, charm, and a flawless sense of timing, Danica made a name for herself by ruthlessly picking apart virtual reality games on stream. From clunky mechanics to immersion-breaking bugs, nothing escaped her scrutiny.

She didn't just play games.

She roasted them alive.

In a world where immersive neural VR had gone mainstream—thanks to cheaper immersion pods and rapid virtual engine expansion—Danica carved out a niche as the queen of critique. And she thrived on it.

Yet today, she was bored out of her skull.

Sitting in her hoodie, legs up on her gaming chair, Danica stared at her terminal and sipped a lukewarm cup of instant coffee. Her channel, Takami Reviews, hadn't uploaded in a week.

"Ugh. I need content," she muttered, lazily scrolling a popular game aggregator site.

"Racing? Hmm…it's alright I guess, but there are already many good titles in that category…plus I already did this genre in my previous let's play series. I want to try something else this time…"

"Another fantasy game? Hasn't this theme been overused already? Tsk tsk, another cheap cashgrab game with lame graphics…"

"Otome raising sim? Hehehe…this is great…good…very nice...big—no, I don't want to get banned yet."

"C'mon," she grumbled. "I need something juicy. Preferably something broken."

"Hmm?"

Suddenly, her movement paused, and the mouse stopped on a particular .

"'…Apocalypse Online?"

The cover was bland. A generic spaceship over another, bigger spaceship. Zero originality.

Danica was so used and numb to these eyecandy art cover, but what caught her attention this time was not it, but rather the visit's click-through rate of this game.

"Horseshit, F-Five hundred thousand visitors. This was only released only a few hours ago, did some big corpo bought an army of paid online trolls to brigade this game?"

Danica frowned.

Curious now, she clicked.

Instead of launching the trailer right away, she scrolled down to the comments:

---

[I_Am_Batman]: It's the 21st century, and this logo still looks like a middle school project. Bruh.

[Nika_Gear_5]: Okay but… that CG shot? It might be hiding some teeth.

[Le_on]: I'll go back to my Otome game and kill goblins in peace.

[Elgin]: VR Earth restoration game again? If it's actually 100% immersion, I might give it a shot.

[Joy_Ride]: Yeah, but no VR engine ever hit more than 50% realism. This is probably another hoax.

[Eureka]: Calling it now—scam. But hey, at least we'll get a good laugh.

---

Danica snorted. "God, gamers are savage."

Still… her interest piqued.

Apocalypse survival wasn't even a hot genre anymore. Most people wanted fantasy escapism, not post-civilization depression. But that comment about realism lingered.

And Danica? She lived to test those claims.

"Alright, let's see what you're hiding."

She hit play.

---

The screen went black.

Then slowly… a glimmer of blue.

Sound of water. Echoing, distant. Calm.

A spaceship hovered above a decaying Earth. The camera pulled back—revealing hundreds of obese passengers floating in sleek hover chairs through polished white halls, sipping technicolor slushies.

A cheery voice chimed:

"The jewel of the BnL fleet: The Axiom. Spend your five-year cruise in style, cared for 24/7 by our fully automated crew. With hover chairs, even Grandma can join the fun! Why walk when you can glide?"

"Because at BNL… space is the final fun-tier!"

Then—

Static.

The screen glitched.

The upbeat ad dissolved.

Colors faded. Darkness bled in.

And then came the real trailer.

[The world was dead.]

A slow pan across skyscrapers half-swallowed by mountains of garbage. Boxy orange robots dragged cube-shaped stacks of waste across a desolate wasteland under a scorched sky.

[Skyscrapers stood like tombstones in a graveyard of concrete and rust. Mountains of trash stretched as far as the eye could see, casting long shadows under a burnt-orange sky.]

[Once, this place was called Earth.]

Burnt cities. Collapsed bridges. Silence.

[They said they'd fix it. They built the Axiom for that and left.]

[But Earth never healed.]

A shot of broken cleanup drones, rotting in the rain. Nature choked by metal.

[Now, all that's left are machines. Bones. And silence.]

And then—

A lab.

A man with silver hair and crimson eyes raises his hand.

[But I won't give up.]

[Will you help me rebuild our world?]

The music swelled. Slow, somber… but hopeful.

Suddenly, the screen changed, rows of stylistic and artistically striking large characters appeared on the screen:

"Otherworldly plot and designs that allows players to enjoy the game world!"

"Intelligent AI brings you an unprecedented gaming experience!"

"Create the most realistic, immersive, and highly customizable epic world!"

"On January 2, the virtual reality MMORPG 'Apocalypse Online' will officially start its non-deleting closed beta phase! Everyone are welcome to sign up!"

"The world awaits for you!!"

---

Danica blinked.

Then laughed. "That final text... screams desperation.'"

Still—she was intrigued.

Very intrigued.

She clicked the registration link. A clean interface opened.

[Welcome! Sign up for the chance of obtaining invitation for Apocalypse Online closed-beta test launch on January 02.]

[For your gaming experience, please fill in your identity information and related materials. Thank you for your cooperation…]

After looking at the registration requirements, Danica was not surprised.

Virtual reality games are deemed highly addictive, so the government imposed regulations which were enacted about a year ago requiring personal verification of anyone wanting to partake in such games.

She filled out the form with ease and clicked submit.

[Registration successful! You are the 94th player to sign up.]

Danica stared.

"…Wait. Only 94?!"

Her jaw dropped. "That's… tiny."

Curious now, she scrolled the info page. The beta only had 30 player slots.

"Guess I better keep an eye on my inbox."

---

Meanwhile on the Axiom

Back aboard the Axiom, Denji closed his terminal.

He had just uploaded the trailer and activated the server announcement through the Verse Computer, accessing his old-world social media accounts.

It had taken weeks of preparation: domain names, background lore and promo edits. He also created alternate accounts in various hardcore game forums, discussion boards roughly a day ago and had been sneakily promoting the game this way since.

He even included snippets of real Earth footage twisted, decayed, and filtered to feel stylized making it seem like high-end CGI.

Reception was mixed.

Some gamers laughed.

Others mocked.

But a few… clicked.

And that was all he needed.

Because unlike the other VR games on the market—Apocalypse Online wasn't built on fantasy.

It was built on reality.