"Yo, what's good, fam? Welcome to Max Wheeler's epic live stream, brought to you by WheelerTech Innovations…"
Friday night, 8 PM, Seattle time.
Twitch live room: WheelerTech Innovations.
Max "Wheeler" Wheeler, rocking a wild in-game avatar, stood in a virtual locker room, hyping up his audience in front of a mirror.
The chat went nuts—
"Bruh, this game needs a 'no face customization' option just for Max."
"Yo, Max, quit staring at your reflection, man!"
"Shocka-lad!"
"This face is straight-up cursed."
"Max doing extreme sports? Wild."
"Psh, does it matter if I suck? I ain't dying for real, right?"
"Facts…"
Boom! The "niche" extreme sports banger Peak Nation, cooked up by copyright-slinging WindyPeak Games, dropped right on schedule, and the internet lost it.
Sure, it's "niche" in quotes—'cause this underdog was the hottest topic across global gaming streams. From Seattle to Tokyo to London, Twitch, YouTube Live, and Kick anchors preloaded and snagged it the second it unlocked.
Max Wheeler was all in.
He was hyped for Peak Nation. Wingsuit gliding through the sky? Snowboarding down a powdery slope? Mountain biking a death-defying drop? That limit-pushing rush had him hooked.
To spice things up, Max flipped his stream into a fake product launch keynote.
"Aight, fam, welcome to WheelerTech's annual product showcase. Today, I'm dropping our latest line of extreme sports gear, fresh from the lab."
"Y'all know when your body takes a hit, it's just physics smacking you around. Our cutting-edge WheelerTech gear generates a counterforce—call it vibe energy—to keep you locked in and safe from wipeouts."
Yup. Max turned his Peak Nation stream into a mock press conference, playing both CEO and test dummy to flex the "product."
Chat ate it up—
"LMAO, vibe energy? Max, you wild."
"Game's got fall damage reduction, and Max calls it a 'vibe energy product.' Storytelling GOAT."
"Real talk, that name's kinda sus."
"Max is the MVP."
"Who let this dude out of the office?"
"Shocka-lad! Max testing it himself?"
"Bet he designed this gear (doge)."
"I'm deceased…"
After clowning with his janky avatar, Max dove into the extreme sports chaos.
The UI popped up, revealing a massive world map studded with global hotspots and race zones. Events and locations were stacked—way too many to count.
Max pointed at the screen. "The dopest showcase for WheelerTech's gear? Hands-down the Downhill Dash."
He'd been eyeing this suicidal gem since pre-launch. Downhill mountain biking—DH, alpine style. Not your commuter bike. These were beefy beasts with double-crown forks, tank-like frames, and featherlight builds. Solo-timed runs, pure chaos.
Max had seen DH vids before. If he wasn't scared of eating dirt IRL, he'd have tried it. Peak Nation let him taste that life-or-death thrill without the hospital bill.
He picked a Class D downhill map in Utah. Not all maps were unlocked—players had to grind, master the IndieVibe X2 cabin's near-real physics, and stack trophies to access higher-tier tracks. So, Max started basic.
Except for one thing: the Peak Eight challenge. Eight real-world-inspired gauntlets, open to newbies and IRL pros alike from the jump. But one wipeout, and you're locked out for a bit.
Max wasn't that reckless. Yet.
Whoosh— He spawned in Utah.
Wind roared, sand and gravel pelted his virtual helmet. A dusty gust hit his nose through the cabin's sensory tech. A huge flag with WP (WindyPeak) flapped in the breeze.
Max blinked. He was on a tricked-out mountain bike, his ID—WheelerTech Max Wheeler—blazed on the frame. The landscape was barren, all rusty-brown cliffs. His plateau was the highest around.
Tires crunched on rock. The graphics were so crisp, he could've sworn it was real. The IndieVibe X2's full-sensory tech nailed every detail—grass, wind, dust. AI crowds cheered, hyped out of their minds with wild expressions.
Max twisted the handlebars, tested the brakes. The tire grip, brake resistance, even the gravel's texture through the bars—it was unreal. Without the HUD, he'd forget this was a game. Probably why WindyPeak locked the UI on.
He took a deep breath, pedaling to the starting line. "Aight, fam, we've teleported to the Utah proving grounds via WheelerTech's next-gen tech. Check the crowd—mad hype today, damn!"
He hit the start, and his voice cut off.
The track was nuts. A narrow path, barely one-person wide. Twenty meters in, a cliff drop. Then a twisty trail hugging a sheer 200-meter drop on the left, rocky wall on the right.
And the kicker? A 40-degree slanted section. Max had to glue himself to the cliff's center, praying the bike's grip held. Beyond that? A five-meter canyon gap with a curved ramp to yeet across to the finish.
"Yo, what?" Max's brain flatlined. He forgot his "keynote" shtick.
This wasn't the DH he'd seen in vids—tight ridges to the finish. This had a cliff jump?
Chat blew up—
"Max is shook."
"This track is insane!"
"What?!"
"Narrow path and a mid-air yeet?"
"My hands are sweating just watching."
"HUD says 238-meter drop. Fall, and you're toast."
"Little by little…"
"Pass the snacks already…"
"LMAO, they're planning the post-crash buffet."
"Even WheelerTech's vibe energy can't save this."
Max froze for three seconds, heart rate spiking to 110 on the HUD. He played it cool: "Some of y'all doubting if our gear can hang in this market. As WheelerTech's CEO, I'm about to show you how much vibe our tech can handle!"
He gripped the bars, gave a light pedal.
Crunch— The tires kicked dust. The ridge's slope launched him forward. Vibrations rattled his feet, wind screamed in his ears. Gravel sprayed, the track blurring past, his pulse hammering.
Then—weightlessness. He shot off the first drop, cliffs whipping by. Adrenaline spiked, like his brain was starving for oxygen. It was euphoric.
"Oh, shit—!" Max yelped.
Boom! The bike slammed onto the next section, dust exploding. The impact numbed his feet. Tires skidded, gravel spilling into the abyss. The cabin's motion assist kicked in—Max tensed, hands quick, stabilizing the bike just before it tipped.
"RUA—!" he roared. "Vibe energy, let's go!"
The chat erupted—
"OHHHHH—!"
"Max is a beast!"
"This is WheelerTech! Vibe energy activated!"
"GOATed!"
"Employee of the century!"
"This game is unreal!"
"Got chills watching."
"My legs are jelly…"
"This is a downhill dash. IRL? No shot."
"Only rich folks play this IRL—gear's too pricey."
"Straight-up death wish."
"I'm sold. Time to get my vibe on."
"Red Chicken hype!"
In-game, AI crowds waved flags, screaming. IRL, chat lost it.
Max's blood was boiling, the life-or-death blur fueling him. He leaned into the cliffside track, eyes locked on the canyon gap.
Then—click. The motion assist system lit up. A 360 backflip, low-skill but deadly here, felt like second nature. The system fed him every move—force, balance, tweaks—like he was born for it. WindyPeak's tech was next-level, the best in the biz.
A choice loomed:
Play it safe: Land smooth, hit the finish, no trophy.
Go big: Backflip, risk a wipeout, snag a bronze trophy.
No time—
The bike hit the ramp, dust flying. Max leaned back, yanked the bars, and pressed the rear wheel down.
Time froze.
"Max, you—?"
"He's going for it…"
"Backflip? Nuts!"
"Insane!"
"Come on!"
"Rickshaw king!"
"Maybe he'll actually—"
Crash! The bike smashed the ground, bounced, and rolled off the cliff, parts scattering. Max's avatar slammed into the rock face.
Crack. A crisp snap—cervical vertebrae. The screen went black-and-white. His body ragdolled down the 238-meter drop.
Silence. Dead silence.
Chat's scalps tingled, jaws dropped, hands sweaty.
A red message floated across—
"Yo, why y'all just standing there? Grab some snacks!"