Making Game: CH 137 – Take Your Partner Anywhere! (Patreon)

In the glittering heart of the Core Rim, a breaking news broadcast had just placed the entire sector into a suffocating chokehold.

High above the bustling, pristine plazas of the Core World of Sela, massive holographic billboards simultaneously interrupted their scheduled programming. The usual colorful advertisements were abruptly replaced by the stark, serious logo of the Accord News Network.

"Tragedy strikes the heart of the Core," a stern, immaculately dressed male Stellarcaster announced, his voice echoing across the silenced plaza. "In the early hours of the morning, a catastrophic explosion rocked the peaceful planetary surface of Deosso. The target was the private estate of an esteemed Accord officer: Rear Admiral Ganea Rallizas."

Images of a smoldering, cratered mansion flashed across the screen. The pedestrians in the plaza gasped, covering their mouths in horror.

"Preliminary investigations have confirmed that this was a targeted terrorist attack executed by the partisan Outer Rim group," the reporter continued. His tone then shifted, dripping with calculated, subtle venom. "However, the terrorists did not breach the perimeter from the outside. They had help from the inside."

A photograph flashed onto the screen. It was a full-body scan of a tired-looking Zynar man.

"They utilized a mole deeply embedded within our own homes," the anchor stated. "The primary suspect is a Zynar domestic helper, a Class E citizen who had been in the loyal, generous service of the Rallizas family for over thirty years. Evidence suggests this Zynar servant used his unmonitored access to bypass the estate's security and physically rig the subterranean plasma conduits."

The propaganda was flawless. The news didn't scream or resort to overt slurs; it simply presented cold, curated 'facts' designed to drive the blame and fear entirely toward the Zynar race.

"Currently, demographic statistics show that Class E citizens, predominantly of the Zynar race make up approximately 64% of the domestic and manual labor workforce across the Core Rim," the anchor noted, seamlessly injecting the concrete numbers to elevate the public's paranoia. "This horrific tragedy serves as a grim cautionary tale. Rear Admiral Rallizas was known for her progressive, overly generous treatment of the lower-class races. She trusted a Zynar with her home. And that misplaced trust in an unassimilated race ultimately cost her her life. She is a martyr for our peace."

The broadcast smoothly shifted to a second, softer-spoken female reporter. She looked directly into the camera with an expression of deep, motherly concern.

"We urge the citizens of the Stellar Accord to remain calm as the investigation unearths the full extent of this partisan network," she said, her voice soothing but laced with insidious, leading questions. "But in the wake of such betrayal, we are forced to ask ourselves: how will the Accord adapt? Can we truly trust those who never helped the Accord rise to power? Can we still trust the help that sleeps under the same roof as our children?"

It was a masterclass in psychological manipulation. Both reporters were needed to shape the mind of the galaxy: one to forge the sword of righteous anger, and the other to plant the quiet, terrifying seed of domestic paranoia.

…

Weeks had passed since the explosive release of the Pokémon expansion, and the galaxy was finally settling into a comfortable, deeply engrossed rhythm.

In the neighboring system of Flecco, just a short hyperspace jump away from Friton, Ross Dalle sat at a quiet, open-air café.

Planet Flecco was an oceanic, tropical world. It was famous for its dense, vibrant archipelagos and an almost suffocating level of humidity. Most tourists found the sticky air unbearable, but Ross absolutely loved it. The high moisture content in the atmosphere served as a natural acoustic dampener, softening the sharp noises of the city and highlighting the endless, rhythmic, and incredibly soothing sound of rushing water from the coastal canals. For him, it was a paradise.

"Keep the change," Ross smiled, tapping his band against the payment terminal as he finished his meal. "My thanks to the chef."

Stepping out of the café and onto the vibrant, sun-drenched boardwalk, Ross let out a deep, satisfied groan. He reached up, stretching his incredibly long, three-jointed arms high above his head until the cartilage popped.

It was a beautiful day.

As he walked down the boardwalk, listening to the rhythmic splashing of the water against the stone pillars, Ross couldn't help but feel a profound, overwhelming wave of gratitude toward Arthur. Not only had the young CEO taken a massive gamble by hiring him, but he had actively promoted him to the prestigious role of Lead Sound Director for the hottest studio in the galaxy.

To be completely honest, back when he first sent in his resume, Ross hadn't even been sure he would get past the initial automated filters.

Visually, the Zynar race looked almost entirely human. They had the same facial structures, the same hair, and the same bipedal stance. The only physical difference was their elongated arms, which possessed two elbows instead of one, granting them three distinct joints.

But politically, the difference was staggering.

In the rigid hierarchy of the Stellar Accord, there was an unspoken rule about Zynar: they were a low-class race, a Zynar should never rise above a Citizen Class C.

The prejudice stemmed from ancient, blood-soaked history. Unlike the Qerrians, the Gunnossians, the Kalamorans, or other races who had all proudly stood as the 'Foundry Races' that built and supported the Accord from its inception, the Zynar were a conquered people. They were a race that had been subjugated by the Accord's expanding route thousands of years ago.

Even now, millennia after the treaties were signed and the blasters had cooled, that heavy, unwritten rule could still be felt in every corner of the Core Worlds. A Zynar was always looked down upon. They were inherently viewed as laborers, servants, and second-class citizens.

But Ross couldn't care less about any of that right now.

In his mind, the galaxy's views were slowly shifting, expanding just as rapidly as the Plasm Network itself. Being a Zynar these days wasn't nearly as much of a hassle as his parents had made it out to be. Or, at the very least, it wasn't a hassle when you had an endless stream of zeroes sitting in your bank account.

Round Table Studio paid incredibly well. The staggering success of their OST and the recent Pokémon launch bonuses had turned Ross from a struggling, closet-recording musician into a comfortably wealthy man.

'I wonder what kind of instrument I should buy today,' Ross mused to himself, a giddy smile spreading across his face as he strolled past the market stalls. 'Maybe I should hunt down some local Flecco water-chime? Oh, or maybe a heavy water-bass. That would sound amazing on the next track...'

His mind happily wandered, completely lost in the joyful prospect of expanding his audio collection.

He was so deeply immersed in his own happiness that he didn't even notice the tall, slender-limbed Kalamoran couple walking toward him on the boardwalk. As Ross passed by, the Kalamoran mother's iridescent, scale-like face contorted in a flash of deep, instinctual disgust.

Without a word, she aggressively grabbed her young child by the shoulder, forcefully shifting the boy behind her legs to shield him as the three-jointed Zynar walked past.

…

Meanwhile, aboard a simulated BSO Siege Cruiser, Captain Verza Zal stood in a crisp, immaculate stance on the bridge's tactical deck.

"Flank them on the Y-axis! Do not let their corvettes break the formation line!" Verza barked, commanding her junior officers as they ran through a highly intensive, simulated space battle.

Despite her sharp, commanding presence, her face bore the recent, undeniable marks of violence. Several thin, reddish burn scars lined the edge of her lips and the side of her cheek. Aside from the localized lacerations, however, she had come out entirely unscathed. The Legion Commander's split-second reaction to shield her body had saved her life when Ganea had triggered the dead-man's switch.

The traitor had killed herself, taking half of her own estate with her. And maddeningly, Ganea's family was nowhere to be found. The BSO had raided their known safehouses, but they had vanished like ghosts.

'No matter,' Verza thought, a cold, calculating smirk tugging at the edge of her scarred lips as she watched the simulation holograms dance in front of her. 'They had broadcast the news.' In a way, making the galaxy see Ganea Rallizas as a tragic, innocent victim was entirely Verza's brilliant idea. There were several tactical scenarios she hoped would blossom from this specific lie.

If the Rallizas family truly didn't know that Ganea was a revolutionary, then the moment they heard the news hailing her as an innocent victim of a terrorist attack, they would eventually come out of hiding to collect her remains and mourn properly. The second they stepped into the light, the BSO would collect them and take them into custody.

But if the worst-case scenario was true, and the family was aware of Ganea's treason... then they would hear the broadcast and know exactly what it meant. They would know she was dead. It was a chilling, silent threat broadcasted across a billion stars: 'This is what happens when you cross the Accord.'

Furthermore, this masterstroke of propaganda was actively tackling a much larger issue for the Bureau. The subjugation of Yustea Prime had gone in the public's mouth for a while. The societal sentiment for order had dried up, and the people were beginning to ask too many questions on other things.

The people desperately needed a common enemy to unite them again. And who better than a traitorous, unassimilated, lower-class race that had never helped the Accord rise in the first place?

Verza's smirk widened into a genuine smile. This was fun. An investigative setback had effortlessly been turned into a burning beacon for a greater, more unified Accord future.

On the holographic tactical table, the simulated enemy flagship's shields finally collapsed.

"Primary target's shields are down, Captain!" the weapons officer shouted.

"Fire," Verza commanded coldly.

BOOM! The simulated enemy fleet was instantly vaporized in a massive flash of blue light. The words [SIMULATION COMPLETE] flashed across the main screen in bold letters.

Verza snapped out of her dark reverie, straightening her uniform collar. She looked around at her sweating, exhausted bridge crew.

"Good work," Verza said.

…

Meanwhile, in a bustling spaceport on the edge of the Mid Rim, Gale Vadran and a seven-year-old Jess walked out of the towering double doors of the local Apex Guild branch.

They had just returned from a long, grueling subjugation mission on a neighboring moon. Thankfully, Gale had purposely registered them for the supply and logistics unit. It was a safe, tedious post far away from the actual frontlines, but it paid exactly the same hazard rate. He had just finished submitting his final logistics report, and the heavy pouch of Accord credits in his pocket was their hard-earned bonus check.

As they walked down the crowded, neon-lit street toward the market district, Gale looked down at the little girl holding his hand.

Jess was seven now.

A heavy, suffocating knot formed in Gale's stomach. Seven was the universal age when children across the Accord officially entered the preliminary academy systems. He knew, deep down in his heart, that it was time for his adoptive daughter to go to school.

But how could she? They move from system to system every time they accept a mission from the guild. It was completely unreliable and deeply unfair for her to follow along on a mercenary's path. Furthermore, she wasn't just a normal refugee. Jess could feed him a massive surge of localized plasma, instantly supercharging his Solar abilities.

She was a walking anomaly. If the Accord ever found her, she would become a lab rat.

'But she needs to be around other kids,' Gale thought miserably, his chest aching. 'Maybe we should hold off for another year? Or maybe try to find a quiet planet on the Outer Rim where nobody asks questions?'

As they walked, Jess suddenly tugged on his hand, stopping in her tracks. Gale followed her gaze. A few feet away, a uniformed Apex Guild staff member was leaning against a wall on his break, aggressively tapping his thumbs against a small, spherical keychain.

Gale blinked. 'Just some new Pokémon merchandise,' he assumed, gently pulling Jess along.

They arrived at the open-air market and found a quiet, sizzling noodle stall. They took their seats on the metal stools. As they waited for their food, Jess's dark eyes began to dart around the crowd. She noticed something. That same spherical keychain was everywhere. She saw it clipped to the belts of gruff mercenaries, dangling from the designer bags of wealthy merchants, and clutched tightly in the hands of almost every child that walked past. It wasn't just a simple merchandise keychain.

Right next to them, sitting on the adjacent stool, a young boy was completely engrossed in his own spherical device.

Chic! Chic! A cheerful, high-pitched synthetic chirp echoed from the toy. Emitted from the top of the sphere was a small, incredibly crisp 3D holographic projection of a tiny, orange bird. The boy tapped a button on the side of the sphere, and a holographic berry appeared, dropping down for the little Torchic to happily eat.

Jess leaned over, her dark eyes completely unblinking, staring with a terrifying, feral intensity at the little holographic bird.

The boy suddenly stopped playing. He looked up, feeling the immense, suffocating weight of Jess's unblinking stare. Intimidated and incredibly awkward under the silent girl's intense scrutiny, the boy quickly grabbed his food, shoved the keychain into his school bag, and hurried away from the stall.

Gale watched the boy leave, a deep pang of sadness striking his heart.

Jess didn't mean any harm. She was just curious. But because she had been raised on the run, hiding in the cargo holds of smuggled freighters and living in rough mercenary camps, she possessed absolutely zero social grace. She was incredibly awkward around children her own age.

'This needs to be fixed,' Gale realized, his jaw tightening. 'She needs friends just as much as she needs a dad.'

His heavy thoughts were interrupted as two steaming bowls of noodles were placed in front of them. They ate in companionable silence.

After they finished, Gale and Jess stepped back out into the bustling street, heading toward their temporary lodging. As they walked past a brightly lit convenience store, Jess suddenly slammed her boots into the pavement, halting completely.

She pointed a small, determined finger at the massive holographic banner glowing in the store's window. It featured a picture of the spherical toy, accompanied by a bold, colorful logo: The Pokégg - Take Your Partner Anywhere!

Jess immediately grabbed Gale's sleeve and began dragging the massive, heavily armed ex-soldier directly into the store.

"Welcome!" the store's automated Compadre unit chimed cheerfully as the glass doors slid open.

Jess marched right up to the counter, pointing at the display case. "Pokégg," she demanded, her voice serious. "What is Pokégg?"

The Compadre bobbed happily, its optical sensor flashing. "Excellent question, young customer! The Pokégg is the brand-new friendship companion created by Round Table Studio for all aspiring Pokémon Trainers!"

The robot reached into the display case and pulled out a pristine, red-and-white spherical device.

"By syncing this device," the Compadre explained, its voice shifting into a practiced sales pitch, "you can transfer any Pokémon from your digital PC boxes directly into the Pokégg! The device features a state-of-the-art miniature hard-light projector, allowing your Pokémon to physically manifest as a small, interactive 3D companion!"

The Compadre tapped a button, and a tiny, perfectly rendered holographic Bulbasaur popped out of the top of the sphere, doing a happy little spin on the counter.

"With the Pokégg," the Compadre concluded, "you can feed them, train them, and bring them with you absolutely anywhere, and absolutely everywhere. Their happiness levels will naturally increase the more steps you take with them in the real world!"

Jess's dark eyes went completely wide. The reflection of the tiny Bulbasaur danced in her pupils. She slowly turned her head, looking up at Gale.

"Gale," Jess whispered, her voice filled with absolute, uncompromising determination. "I want it."

Gale looked at the little device. He wasn't entirely sure how the technology worked, but he recognized a cultural phenomenon when he saw one. Every kid in the market had one of these things. It was a universal language. If Jess had a Pokégg, she wouldn't have to stare awkwardly at other kids anymore. She could walk up to them, compare Pokémon, and naturally bridge the gap. It was the perfect icebreaker.

Gale smiled, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his heavy pouch of bonus credits.

"We'll take two of them," Gale told the Compadre, gently ruffling Jess's dark hair. "One for the kid. And one for me."

…

The early adopters of the Pokégg slowly began to realize that the little sphere was much more than just a novelty toy. It was a genuine companion. It was simple and profoundly wholesome.

Deep inside the towering ecumenopolis of Nexus Prime, a normal, overworked salaryman named Do Vane was currently experiencing this firsthand.

Every single day, Vane walked to the public transport charter to commute to his corporate job. He was a massive Pokémon fan, and he usually spent every spare second playing the game the moment he got back to his tiny apartment. One could argue that he should just play the game on his heliopad while riding the transport ship, but anyone who suggested that had clearly never experienced a Nexus Prime morning rush.

The commuter ships were packed shoulder-to-shoulder. It was a suffocatingly cramped space where pulling out a wide Heliopad, let alone finding the elbow room to actually tap on it, was a physical impossibility.

But several weeks ago, Vane had stumbled across a Pokégg hanging on a rack in a local convenience store near his office. On a whim, he had bought it. He synced his account and transferred his new favorite Pokémon, a Totodile, into the physical device.

Now, he took his Totodile to work every single day.

The Pokégg hung securely from his belt loop, silently tracking his daily physical steps, a number that was rapidly approaching the 100,000 mark. It was perfectly fine that Vane had limited time to sit down and play the actual game; he had his Totodile with him everywhere he went.

Trapped in the cramped, swaying space of the commuter transport, Vane looked down at the little sphere. He gently tapped the top button.

Totooo! The crisp, three-dimensional hologram of the blue, bipedal crocodile popped out, doing a happy little dance.

Vane smiled, using his index finger to gently pat the hologram's head. The hard-light projector registered the physical intersection of his finger, prompting the Totodile to close its eyes and lean into the digital touch. A small, subtle 'Friendship Bar' appeared above the Pokémon's head. It was almost completely full.

And there were millions more across the galaxy just like Vane. From young children nervously walking to their primary schools, to ordinary, exhausted adults going about their grueling days, the people of the Stellar Accord now had a small, loyal companion with them at all times.

…

Meanwhile, back on the sunlit surface of Friton, Arthur Pendragon was walking through the halls of Round Table Studio.

The foundational programming for the Animus 2.0 was progressing flawlessly. While both the Clarent OS and the heavy Caliburn hardware still needed a bit more time to optimize before they could even think about an official release, Arthur was in incredibly high spirits.

He opened the heavy glass doors to the central Junction room, ready to grab a cup of caf.

He froze.

The room was in a state of complete, bizarre chaos. Half of the room, specifically Lin Liseli and her entire Art Department were lazily laying around on the couches and beanbags, furiously tapping and petting the Pokéggs in their hands.

The other half of the room, Ross Dalle and his Audio Department were aggressively power-walking in a massive circle around the perimeter of the room, panting heavily as they clutched their own Pokéggs.

"Okay," Arthur said slowly, blinking in confusion. "What exactly is going on in here?"

Ross Dalle marched past Arthur, his three-jointed Zynar arms pumping rhythmically to keep his momentum. "Arty, please don't distract my team! Keep the pace, guys! We're almost there!"

From the nearest beanbag, Liseli scoffed loudly, not even looking up from her holographic Vulpix. "Nonsense! It was your loss to begin with, Ross! Love and affection always win!"

Arthur rubbed his temples. "Seriously, what is going on?"

Kasavin, who was sitting quietly at a desk in the corner and entirely refusing to participate, adjusted his glasses. "They have made a wager, Arthur. They are attempting to see which department can unlock a Pokémon Accessory first."

Arthur's eyes widened slightly. Hidden within the Pokégg's code, they had programmed a cosmetic reward system. A Pokémon inside the Pokégg could actually receive unique, wearable accessories, tiny sunglasses, scarves, hats, or little jackets that would seamlessly transfer back into the main game.

To unlock them, a player had to fulfill one of two conditions: either walk 100,000 physical steps with the device, or completely max out the Friendship bar through constant, daily interaction. Both conditions could be repeated indefinitely.

Even crazier, Arthur had utilized the Accord Network's geolocation data effectively. The accessory reward was entirely dependent on the specific planetary system the player lived in, the weather conditions they walked through, and the specific stats of the Pokémon itself. A player in the freezing Outer Rim might unlock a thick winter scarf, while a player in the humid Flecco system might unlock a pair of sleek swimming goggles.

All in all, Arthur had essentially gamified living life.

Arthur couldn't help but smile. He had intentionally left this incredible feature out of the official ad, fully wanting the players to organically discover it themselves and spread the rumors online. Judging by the fierce competition currently happening in his own studio, the feature was working perfectly.

"Well," Arthur chuckled, leaning against the doorframe and taking a sip of his brewka. "I guess I'll wait to see which department is right."

…

Do Vane let out a long, exhausted sigh as he finally stepped out of the suffocating corporate high-rise and into the cold, drizzling rain of the city. His shift was over. His back ached, his feet were sore, and he had a miserable walk ahead of him just to reach the overcrowded transport charter.

Seeking his usual post-work comfort, Vane reached down to his belt loop and tapped the button on his Pokégg.

Totooo! The holographic Totodile popped out, cheerfully dancing in the gloomy rain.

Vane smiled, moving his finger to pat the hologram's head, but he suddenly froze. He stared at the tiny digital interface beneath the projection. The Friendship bar... it was completely empty.

Vane's heart skipped a panicked beat. 'Did it reset? Did I do something wrong? Did it break in the rain?' He quickly checked the pedometer function. The digital numbers read: [100,042 Steps].

He had definitely crossed the 100k milestone today. So why was the bar empty?

Suddenly finding a burst of energy, Vane sprinted to the transport charter.

He endured the agonizingly cramped ride home, his foot tapping anxiously the entire way. The moment he unlocked the door to his tiny, box-like apartment, he didn't even bother taking off his wet coat. He rushed straight to his desk, booting up his Heliopad and physically plugging the Pokégg into the sync port.

The interface flashed onto his massive monitor, syncing the data.

Vane leaned in closely, analyzing the detailed interface. A wave of profound relief washed over him as he read the new status screen. The Friendship bar hadn't wiped his progress; it had filled completely and reset because the Pokémon had evolved in its relationship with him.

Right next to the empty bar was a bright, glowing new icon: [Affection Level 2].

Vane let out a breathless chuckle, sinking into his chair. "You scared me, little buddy," he whispered.

But as he looked at the screen, another new icon caught his eye. It was shaped like a tiny little shirt. Vane blinked. 'An accessory menu?' he thought, completely bewildered. He hadn't seen anything about this before.

Curious, Vane clicked the shirt icon.

The screen transitioned into a familiar, incredibly satisfying interface. It was a gacha screen. But instead of requiring credits, the prompt on the screen read:

[2 Accessory Tokens Available!] (x1 Awarded for reaching Affection Level 2) (x1 Awarded for reaching 100,000 Physical Steps)

"No way," Vane whispered, his eyes widening. He could physically accessorize his Pokémon?

Without hesitating, he tapped the Gacha button twice.

The animation flashed brilliantly across his screen. Two small, glowing gift boxes burst open.

[Acquired: Nexus Prime Flat Cap!] [Acquired: Corporate Black Tie!]

Trembling with excitement, Vane dragged the two items over to his Totodile's 3D model and clicked [Equip].

The Pokégg on his desk chimed. The hologram of the little blue crocodile projected into the room. Sitting snugly on its head was a stylish, grey flat cap, and wrapped neatly around its scaly neck was a crisp, miniature black necktie.

The Totodile puffed out its chest, crossing its arms as if it were a tiny, incredibly enthusiastic salaryman ready to clock in for a shift.

Vane stared at the hologram. All the agonizing exhaustion of his twelve-hour corporate shift instantly melted away. He burst into a fit of warm, genuine laughter, reaching out to pat his sharply dressed companion on the head.

"Looking good, buddy," Vane smiled. "Now you're ready to work just as hard as I do."

As he watched his little partner dance on the desk, Vane's mind began to race with the sheer, monumental scale of what Round Table Studio had just done. If he could unlock a tie and a hat just from surviving his daily commute in Nexus Prime... what else was out there?

Do Vane looked at his step count, and genuinely couldn't wait to go outside and walk.