The cultural impact of NieR:Automata sent shockwaves far beyond gaming circles. As GSX consoles flew off shelves, something fundamental was shifting - the same medium once dismissed as childish distraction now commanded serious artistic discussion in mainstream publications. This quiet revolution in perception had been building for years, from Dragon Quest's morally complex storytelling to Final Fantasy's cinematic narratives, but July's lull in game releases created space for reflection.
Meanwhile, in a Facebook conference room smelling of dry-erase markers and cold brew coffee, engineers debated final touches for their smartphone debut. The invitation list included an unlikely name: Takayuki. "Gaming's acession to legitimacy makes this collaboration essential," argued their head of partnerships, tapping the latest sales charts showing GSX's dominance.
Across the continent in MMFork's sterile white labs, Myron Keyes barely glanced at the Facebook announcement scrolling past on his secondary monitor. His attention remained fixed on the real prize - the prototype desktop OS humming quietly in its testing rig. "Morgan Group had thirty years to innovate," he muttered to his lead engineer. "We'll remake computing in three."
Keyes' confidence wasn't baseless. While competitors played catch-up in the smartphone space, MMFork was already executing Phase Two: custom silicon for the MK3, lightweight productivity devices, an entire ecosystem built on their design philosophy. Every percentage point of their industry-leading margins got reinvested into this vision.
Back in Japan, Takayuki read the Facebook invitation with quiet amusement. As hardware manufacturers raced to claim their slices of the mobile future, he understood something they often missed - the real revolution wasn't in the devices, but in what people chose to do with them. The GSX's swelling install base proved games had become the killer app no one saw coming.