"Leo's gotta be wiped out!" the chat laughed.
"Imagine the sensory pod right now—total chaos!"
"Can he play without making those sound effects?"
"Nah, that's all about the vibe!"
"Spitting peas isn't exactly a power move."
"Haha, props to Leo—my immersion's through the roof!"
"This point capture mode is wild. Everyone's just charging in."
"It's simple and intense."
"No camping here—just straight-up fights."
"Shooting, skills, and capturing points? It's fast, fun, and might just start a trend."
"This game's relentless!"
The chat was buzzing as the match rolled on.
Maybe the first-round win was too easy, or maybe the zombie team were FPS pros too. After the plants took a 1-0 lead, the second round kicked off, and the zombies came ready.
"You like rushing our healer?" the zombies seemed to say. "We'll trade."
When Eggplant's Wall-nut went for the Zombie Doctor, Benny's Sunflower got caught out. An Engineer Zombie's concussive blast stunned Eggplant, and focused fire took him down. Healer and tank gone, the zombies stormed the point, fended off two plant pushes, and tied it up.
[1:1]
Match point.
Both sides started to get the game's flow. Despite the fast pace, strategy was key—tank positioning, damage dealer tactics, healer priorities, flanker timing. Teamwork made or broke the outcome.
As they got sharper, the battles got wilder. Attacks were precise, rockets and pea-sunflower seeds flew everywhere, and the capture bar swung back and forth. Green surged when plants dominated; purple spiked when zombies took control.
It was a brutal chase—players died, respawned, and died again. The final round came down to a tense 5-on-6.
Benny's Sunflower barely took out the Zombie Doctor, leaving the point uncontested. The green bar climbed fast under his control.
"Faster, faster!" Benny shouted, practically willing the bar to fill.
But three revived zombies, led by an All-Star Zombie, were charging his way. They'd died earlier, respawned quicker, and were closing in.
Three against one—and Benny was just a Sunflower. If he went down, it was over. The timer was ticking into overtime, where a single second of sole point control would end the match instantly.
"I'm just a healer!" Benny wailed in team chat.
Then, Winter Melon's voice cut through: "My ultimate's up!"
Winter Melon's Kernel Corn hadn't used his ultimate all match. The fights were too hectic, the cooldown too long, or he'd just forgotten. But now, with the team in trouble and no time to reach the point, he remembered.
"No point holding it now," he muttered, activating the skill.
A countdown echoed in his head: [Three—Two—One—]
[Our air-to-ground corn missile has launched!]
The chat exploded:
"What? A voice prompt?"
"What kind of ultimate is this?"
"Air-to-ground missile?"
"Kernel Corn's a Corn Cannon—no way…"
A rocket's hiss rang out. All eyes locked on Winter Melon.
A blast of air erupted where his corn head met his stalk body. His head detached, blue-green flames shooting from the base.
Thud—Hiss!
"What the—Winter Melon's head just launched!" Leo yelled.
"I'm flying!" Winter Melon screamed. "My body's on the ground!"
Swoosh!
Trailing a fiery wake, Winter Melon felt his control vanish—his head was the missile! Breaking through clouds, he soared high, then looked down.
The zombie trio was closing in on Benny's point.
"Don't worry, Benny!" Winter Melon roared. "I'm coming!"
Swoosh—Hiss!
A meteor streaked down, leaving a brilliant arc. The arm-sized corn projectile plummeted.
Amid shocked gasps, Benny's wide eyes, and the zombies' stunned faces, Winter Melon bellowed: "It's gonna blow!"
Ding… Dong! BOOM!
A fragrant heatwave erupted, like a Doom-shroom blast, forming a mushroom cloud. Popcorn flew everywhere.
The chat went wild:
"What was that?!"
"'It's gonna blow'—hahaha!"
"What did I just see?"
"Gus Harper, what have you made?"
"A game where you launch your own head? Insane!"
"This is the dumbest ultimate I've seen in twenty years!"
"Maybe not the flashiest, but definitely the wildest!"
"I'm crying from laughing—this is too much!"
"A move I never could've imagined."
"Sometimes I worry about WindyPeak's sanity."
"It's a perfect Corn Cannon recreation!"
"Absolute genius!"
The absurd skill blew up the community. Players were stunned, viewers were rolling, and nobody saw it coming. Gus Harper had turned players into missiles, letting them steer and bomb targets.
It was a test—if players loved this, WindyPeak's wilder ideas, like armed choppers or AC-130s, could take flight.
Benny, cornered moments ago, was ecstatic. "That was epic, Winter Melon! We won! You're the hero!"
But his cheer cut short.
The countdown hit 0:00, flipping to [Overtime].
"What?" Benny gasped.
Overtime meant both sides were contesting the point. He looked up through the smoke.
A towering figure emerged—twice Benny's size, helmeted, in red-and-white padded armor and tattered shorts. One foot stood firm on the point's edge.
It was an All-Star Zombie, the zombie team's tank, with a massive health pool. A last-second healing boost from the Zombie Doctor's potion let it survive the corn missile.
Swoosh.
Benny stared at the zombie's Gatling gun, backing against the wall. His flower head pressed tight, leaves curled, looking helpless.
"What else you got?" the All-Star Zombie taunted in public chat, voice dripping with confidence. A foreign player, clearly savoring the moment.
Tank versus healer—it seemed over. The Gatling gun whirred, ready to end the fragile Sunflower.
The plant team was rushing back, but they wouldn't make it. The gun was primed, the zombie smirking.
Then Benny snorted, raising his leaves to his flower head. A fiery glint flashed in his eyes. "Whatever I want."
Zzzzzzz!
A laser blasted from his eyes, piercing the All-Star Zombie's chest like Homelander's heat vision.
Sunflower's ultimate: Solar Beam.
Benny, busy healing all match, hadn't used it. But now, in a 1v1, it was time.
The golden beam stunned the stream's thousands of viewers:
"Homelander?!"
"Homelander Flower?"
"Sun… Sun-Piercing Beam?"
"No more sunflower seeds—this doctor's done healing!"
"What kind of move is this?"
"Haha, this is nuts!"
"'Shocking' doesn't cut it—'mind-blowing' does!"
"I can't laugh anymore, I'm begging for mercy!"
Thump!
The All-Star Zombie collapsed, shock on its face.
Overtime ended.
[Round Three/Victory] [2:1]
Cheers erupted. "We're champions!" Benny roared, arms raised.
The team's voice chat exploded with laughter, and the streams flooded with crowns and "champion" messages. Rockets and airplanes poured in.
"Haha, Winter Melon's ultimate killed me!" Leo laughed.
"It was clutch!" Winter Melon shot back.
"Didn't expect a foreign player," Eggplant said. "I set the tone early."
"My heat vision sealed it," Benny bragged.
"You all crushed it," Winter Melon said.
As they recapped, a new match queued up for payload mode. Other streamers—Yin, Old Horse, Muffin, even ShuBro—were diving into WindyPeak's wild masterpiece, their streams filled with laughter and "hahaha" comments.
The game wasn't flashy with graphics or heavy on promotion, but it was pure, well-crafted fun. At $9.30 a copy, it earned its "fair deal" badge.
The gaming community caught fire with this joyful, offbeat hit. Jonah York beamed—his small WindyPeak team built this in record time, and the praise felt great. Gus Harper grinned, feeling the players' joy through the screen, worth every ounce of effort.
Everyone at WindyPeak was thrilled. Each Garden Warfare sale pushed them closer to that $140 million milestone.
But as the saying goes, not everyone's smiling. Right now, at least two people weren't happy…