The Boy with the Master Plan
Later in the day, Alex sat alone in the living room. Fred and Francine had dozed off in their recliner chairs—exactly as Alex had hoped. He'd gently urged them to rest when he noticed their eyelids drooping, assuring them he'd be just fine on his own.
They hadn't made it to their bedrooms, but that didn't matter. The soft rhythm of their synchronized snoring filled the room, a familiar kind of quiet.
Ignoring it, Alex slipped into the kitchen and pulled a notebook and pencil from his backpack. He returned to the table, flipped open to a blank page, and sat still for a moment—just thinking.
He began to reflect on the knowledge sitting in his mind like organized archives: the film industry, the music business, the state of gaming. The deeper he focused on a subject, the more information surfaced—detailed, structured, interconnected. It wasn't just recalling facts. His mind sharpened with each second of concentration, like a camera lens locking into clarity.
Still, Alex had to reassess quickly.
Film? He saw two realistic entry points: become a child actor or a screenwriter.
The first was easy to access, but unappealing. He had no interest in being in front of the camera, no desire to be someone else's puppet. Acting came with its own set of hazards—exposure, burnout, manipulation. Not worth it.
Screenwriting? Now that had potential. He had the knowledge. The instincts. But he was now only nine. No one would take a child seriously, no matter how brilliant the script. It would take several extra steps—likely a ghostwriter or proxy adult—but it wasn't impossible.
The problem? Hollywood's brutal hierarchy. Get on the wrong side of a producer, a director, even a grip—and your career could vanish before it began. Recovering from failure in that world required luck, timing, or an iron spine.
Or with someone who had profound knowledge and insight about the in and out of the industry, wouldn't pose much of an issue as long as he stayed vigilante.
Music? A slightly more open path. If you had the talent, and could break in. Write a hit, and you're in the spotlight. But staying there? That was a minefield. Contracts were traps. Royalties one could receive could be miniscule, if one was unware of how the industry. Entire catalogs stolen out from under artists.
And trapped in an ironclad contract that would suck, very value an talent artist had even after their death.
And unlike acting, music demanded constant reinvention. Fame was fleeting unless you were a marketing genius—or backed by one.
Sure, successful musicians often made double what actors did. But their were a lot of pitfalls one had to dodge first.
Alex shelved both for the time being, he still wanted to enjoy his childhood in relative peace.
Then his thoughts drifted to the one industry still in its infancy.
Video games.
Right now, it was in shambles. Just two years ago, cheap, low-effort titles and hardware oversaturated the market. The 1983 crash gutted the industry. Revenues plummeted from over $3 billion to just $100 million. Western developers were still licking their wounds.
But change was coming.
In ten months, Nintendo would enter the U.S. market with the Nintendo Entertainment System. That single console would redefine everything. NES would resurrect the gaming world with polished hardware, tight quality control, and groundbreaking titles one after another.
Alex already knew titles.
Super Mario Bros.
Metroid.
Donkey Kong.
The Legend of Zelda.
Castlevania.
Each one a juggernaut.
Nintendo wasn't just going to revive a battered industry in the west—it was going to build a legacy. It would become the Disney of gaming, focused on families, fun, and iconography of first party titles. Soon after, SEGA would rise to challenge them, battling for dominance through the 3rd to 6th generations. Then Sony would enter and flip the script entirely.
But all that was years away.
Right now? The market was quiet. Empty. Full of doubt here in the western market.
A blank canvas.
A sleeping giant.
And Alex had the blueprint. The knowledge. The insight to build something before the world realized the game was about to re-emerge.
He could see the path clearly. Unlike music or film, there were no towering gatekeepers yet. The audience was out there. Hungry for quality. For innovation. For worlds to escape into.
And more importantly, the video game industry would one day surpass the combined value of both film and music.
The only two things standing in his way:
1. Finding the right people to help those with a hungrier, individuals he could rely on, and willing to take a leap.
2. Acquiring enough capital to start something real.
The second would soon be resolved, hence Alex began considering his first hurled.
Alex took a breath and pressed pencil to paper.
Why was Alex writing his thoughts down? Because putting his thoughts on the page helped him focus. Kept his mind from drifting too far. With everything swirling inside his head, writing brought clarity. Order.
He began jotting down titles. Concepts. Names of potential collaborators. Outlines of studio ideas.
This was no longer a dream.
It was a plan.
As the minutes passed, the sound of pencil scratching against paper filled the room, broken only by the occasional creak of Fred's recliner as he shifted in his sleep.
Alex leaned forward, brow furrowed in concentration. Page after page in his notebook filled with scribbles—diagrams, level sketches, gameplay loops, pacing mechanics. He wrote with a rare kind of conviction, the kind only someone who'd already seen the finished product could muster.
The Legend of Zelda.
The title sat boldly at the top of the page, underlined twice. Not just a game—a mythology. A world built on courage, wisdom, and power. A young hero. A sprawling overworld. Dungeons, puzzles, secrets. Freedom.
It wasn't just fantasy—it was structure. Challenge. Discovery. Wonder.
And, more importantly, it was unlike anything the market had seen before.
Top-down perspective.
Open-world exploration.
Non-linear progression.
Item-based unlocking systems.
Epic musical themes.
He could already hear it—the sweeping chiptune overture. The kind of music kids would hum in arcades long after they'd gone home.
The more he wrote, the clearer it became: this would be his first offering. His way into the world. A game that would plant his flag in the medium and show what kind of experiences he could create.
But he couldn't do it alone.
His eyes lifted from the page as a new thought struck him.
Mark and Michael.
They were his best shot. Both sharp. Inquisitive. From what Alex had observed, they were already curious about technology and programming. They had the hunger—just not the experience.
That was fine. Passion could be shaped. And Alex had just the project to teach them everything.
But he'd need to test their interest first. Gauge how open they'd be to the idea of making a game—his game. And more importantly, he needed to know if they could trust him, and if he could trust them with what came next.
He tapped the pencil against the table.
Trust. That was still fragile. He'd only just woken from a six-month coma, and now he was acting... completely different. Smarter. Calmer. More focused. It wouldn't go unnoticed.
Even with his old memories intact, the "him" now was a far cry from the boy they used to know.
He'd have to be careful. Strategic.
No talk of the future. No mention of cognitive amplifiers. No hints that he knew The Legend of Zelda would one day sell millions.
This had to come from the heart. Grounded. Real.
He'd present it as a spark of inspiration—something that came to him while recovering. A cool idea for a game. Let the idea speak for itself.
Flipping to a new page, he began drafting the pitch:
Game Title: The Legend of Zelda
Genre: Action-Adventure / Fantasy
Perspective: Top-down
Platform: Home console (or PC with NES-style controller)
Core Gameplay Loop:
Explore overworld
Discover dungeons
Solve puzzles
Defeat bosses
Earn key items (boomerang, bow, bombs, hookshot)
Unlock new areas using acquired items
Face the final boss and save Princess Zelda
Visual Style: Pixel art—earthy tones, simple but iconic silhouettes
Sound: Orchestral-inspired chiptune melodies; looping dungeon and overworld themes
Tone: Mysterious, adventurous, slightly melancholic
Alex stared at the page and smiled.
Sure, he'd have to polish the gameplay mechanics and scale them down for the hardware limits of the time. But the bones were solid. It was all there.
He could already picture it: a kid playing the game late at night, eyes wide as they uncovered a secret cave behind a waterfall. Solving a tricky puzzle. Feeling the rush of picking up the Master Sword for the first time.
This was it.
He tore the page from the notebook and folded it neatly. Then he flipped to a clean sheet—crafted a tighter, more digestible summary. And finally, a third: the opening of a Game Design Document, just enough to spark Mark's curiosity about dungeon layout and overworld logic.
He closed the notebook and stood quietly. Fred and Francine were still asleep, Fred snoring lightly with a thread of drool on his chin. Francine lay dozing peacefully beside him.
Tomorrow. He'd ask Mark and Michael to meet up—just the three of them. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere they could talk.
This wasn't just a game. It was the beginning of something bigger.
A vision. A future. A foundation.
And it all started with a boy, a sword, and a kingdom in need of saving.
Later in the Day
"Hey, well... at the very least, we can relax knowing Alex is finally home," Ashley said, her voice light but tinged with lingering concern as she climbed the stairwell alongside her siblings.
The soft thud of footsteps echoed off the old walls of the apartment building as the three carried shopping bags and school satchels. Duke led the way, casually tossing a bag over his shoulder, while Ashley walked beside Jennifer, who kept her eyes ahead, silent and contemplative.
Ashley glanced at her sister, smiling faintly. Their relationship had been tense in recent months—strained by stress, grief, and guilt—but with Alex back and doing better, things between them had begun to thaw. Small signs. Softer words.
"But we still need to stay cautious," Duke said suddenly, breaking the quiet rhythm. "We can't be sure if Alex's condition is permanent. We have to monitor him, like Dr. Green advised."
His voice wasn't cold, just firm—logical. But it struck a nerve.
"Ugh, why do you always have to be so negative?" Ashley groaned, her pace slowing as she shot him an irritated look. "Do you really have to bring that up right now?"
Duke blinked, caught off guard. "I'm just repeating what the doctor said. It's not like I want something to be wrong with him."
Ashley crossed her arms, clearly annoyed, and turned to Jennifer, hoping for backup. But Jennifer wasn't on anyone's side today. Her brows were drawn tightly together, a silent storm behind her eyes. She looked down at the floor, saying nothing—but her expression spoke volumes. Dissatisfaction, unease, maybe even guilt.
Duke noticed, frowning slightly. He wasn't trying to be the villain here. He was just being realistic. Someone had to be.
They reached the apartment door, a quiet pause falling over the group.
Duke exhaled and raised his hand to knock.
A few seconds later, a muffled voice called from behind the door—soft and familiar.
"Who is it?"
"It's Duke, Miss Esposito. I'm here to pick up Alex," he replied, leaning in slightly so his voice would carry through the old wood.
Ashley adjusted the bags in her hands while Jennifer shifted her weight from one foot to the other, lost in thought.
Behind the door, they could hear slow footsteps approaching—then the soft click of a lock turning.
Moments later, the door creaked open.
Revealing Francine wearing blue flowered apron, a she showed a gentle smile.
" Oh, you're all back early," she commented, as the three teenagers stood in the hallway. " Well come on in I was finishing making launch come joy us. "
Francine said, gesturing the three to come inside.
The three teens glancing back each other nodded and entered.