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Chris Donovan was ET's secret weapon for game design. The current success of Street Heat was largely thanks to his creative contributions and strategic suggestions.
When Mike found him, Chris had just finished another Battle Royale match and was still buzzing with enthusiasm about Death Race's design.
"It's genuinely fantastic," Chris said, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied grin. "I've played like six rounds already. Can't stop."
"Chris, listen—can we extract inspiration from this gameplay? Create a new mode for Street Heat?" Mike asked, his tone urgent. "Also, what do you think Team Deathmatch will be? It has to be different from Battle Royale, right? Any theories?"
"Can't guess yet," Chris said calmly, almost maddeningly relaxed. "But whatever it is, I'm excited to see it."
Mike's frustration was visible. He'd been hoping for more insight, some competitive edge. After all, if Morrison could conceptualize Team Deathmatch, surely they could reverse-engineer the concept. Why couldn't they think of it first?
Many in the gaming industry shared Mike's frustration. Death Race's revolutionary gameplay innovations had genuinely impressed developers worldwide, earning massive player love and critical acclaim.
It had also opened minds and expanded horizons for countless game designers, which made them simultaneously thrilled and anxious.
Because here's the thing about gameplay mechanics: they're nearly impossible to legally protect. With slight modifications—different setting, different art style, tweaked rules—you could create a completely "new" version.
So content providers everywhere immediately got busy. Whoever moved fastest would harvest the most wallets.
And when it came to plagiarism and reskinning speed, larger companies naturally had advantages. More employees, higher efficiency, massive content libraries to repurpose. They could churn out copycat content in days.
Titan Games Headquarters – Manhattan
"Copy it. We HAVE to copy it," Brandon Sterling declared shamelessly in his CEO office.
"It's called 'Death Race'? Fine. We'll do 'Death Flight' or 'Death Warship.' We'll rip off the Battle Royale mode completely, just change it to aerial combat, then naval warfare, then space battles, then mech combat—do ALL of them!"
Brandon was practically gleeful.
"Morrison did all the hard creative work for us! We can't waste his excellent idea, can we? We need to extract every drop of value from his innovation!"
He was overjoyed. Morrison had racked his brain creating this brilliant gameplay, which was basically a gift to the entire industry. By simply plagiarizing the mechanics and reskinning them, Titan could create multiple content releases and effortlessly harvest player wallets.
This money felt like it was being taken directly from Morrison's pocket, which made Brandon extremely happy given their history.
"We could even do a fantasy version—'Dragon Death Match' with a medieval magic setting. 'Desperate Dragon Knight Tournament!'" suggested Walter Chen, a balding middle-aged developer.
"Exactly! Perfect, Walter, you get it!" Brandon laughed triumphantly, his voice echoing through the office. "Go all out. Use this gameplay to its absolute extreme until it's completely saturated!"
"Sure thing, boss," Walter said with a forced smile, while internally he was seething. Got it, my ass. If I wasn't desperate for that down payment on a new apartment, I wouldn't be shameless enough to go along with this bullshit.
Infinite Realms Corporate Headquarters – San Francisco
Hunter Matthews gathered his racing division employees for an emergency meeting. The topic: Death Race's gameplay and its implications.
Hunter had been transferred to oversee racing content last year after the championship's disappointing performance. He'd been reflecting hard on the problems, seeking solutions. He'd been somewhat annoyed when Alex had spoken so bluntly on that livestream about racing esports' lack of entertainment value, but Hunter also knew Morrison was absolutely right.
In the racing game space, Alex Morrison was genuinely an authority. His opinion carried weight.
And when Alex had promised to create innovative gameplay in his competition entry, Hunter had been genuinely excited. He naturally wanted the content under his supervision to thrive. High player counts, high engagement, high competition viewership—all of that created massive sales stimulus for in-game items.
The racing content competition had been launched for exactly this purpose: mobilize the collective wisdom and creativity of developers to solve the category's fundamental problems.
Now he'd finally gotten what he hoped for. Death Race offered genuine hope.
"I've spent the last few days extensively studying Battle Royale mode," Hunter said, addressing the room. "This gameplay is legitimately brilliant. The core is still racing, but it effectively combines multiple gameplay elements. The player-versus-player combat makes competition more intense. The resource scramble makes racing and driving skills more meaningful. Tactics and strategy become more intuitive, more engaging, more dramatic."
He pulled up analytics on the main screen.
"Morrison was right. If we built competitions around these rules, they'd have genuine spectator appeal."
"The data backs that up," added Marcus Lin, a bespectacled analyst. "Death Race's performance is exceptional, especially Battle Royale mode. Player engagement is through the roof. High retention, high stickiness. Current global average session time is over three hours."
"Three hours?" someone whistled.
"I'm above average then," laughed David Park, a round-faced designer. "Played five hours straight last night. Even when I died early, I jumped right back in. Didn't feel tired at all. Each match feels different, unpredictable. If it wasn't so late, I probably would've kept going."
He grinned sheepishly. "I genuinely love this gameplay. This is the kind of racing competition we've needed all along. It might actually solve our problems."
Hunter nodded thoughtfully. "Maybe we should invite Alex Morrison here for consultation. Discuss how to design a brand new racing championship format based on these mechanics."
The room murmured in agreement.
The Viral Phenomenon
Death Race's fresh gameplay created immediate waves across Infinite Realms. Its popularity skyrocketed instantly.
Combined with premium promotional placements from Infinite Realms corporate—featured slots, homepage banners, in-game notifications—Death Race shot straight to the top of the charts.
Battle Royale mode in particular was deeply beloved by players. Death Race became one of the hottest pieces of content in Infinite Realms history, even breaking records for concurrent player counts across the entire platform.
But something unexpected happened alongside the game's popularity.
The phrase "Winner winner, chicken dinner" went absolutely viral.
Initially, players were confused about the phrase's meaning. It seemed nonsensical, random. Many players flooded Stormwind's official social media and Alex's personal accounts asking what it meant.
They received no response. Alex was too busy with film post-production to engage with social media speculation.
So players' imaginations ran wild. Theories proliferated:
"Maybe 'chicken dinner' is slang from some regional dialect?"
"I think 'chicken' refers to Warden Hennessey—like you're 'eating' her when you win."
"My theory: Morrison just really loves eating chicken. Like, literally. So whenever he celebrates success, he eats chicken."
That last theory gained surprising traction. Before anyone could verify it, "Alex Morrison loves chicken" became accepted public knowledge, spreading through memes and jokes.
"Chicken dinner" or just "eating chicken" became universal slang for Battle Royale mode. Players didn't say "I'm playing Battle Royale"—they said "I'm eating chicken tonight."
News articles ran with headlines like: "Death Race: The Game Where Everyone's Eating Chicken" and "Why Does Alex Morrison Love Chicken So Much?"
Gaming forums had entire threads dedicated to Morrison's supposed chicken obsession:
"What's Morrison's favorite restaurant?"
"Does he prefer fried or grilled?"
"Someone spotted him at a KFC in Manhattan—theory confirmed!"
The speculation was completely absurd and entirely divorced from the phrase's actual origins, but it didn't matter. The phrase had taken on a life of its own.
Within two weeks, "eating chicken" had become so deeply embedded in gaming culture that even Alex couldn't correct it if he wanted to. The phrase transcended Death Race—it became shorthand for any battle royale-style competition across multiple games.
Stormwind's marketing team recognized the viral phenomenon and leaned into it hard, creating chicken-themed merchandise, promotional materials featuring cartoon chickens, even a limited-edition "Winner Winner" emote for Infinite Realms.
The meme economy was real, and Death Race was printing money.
Plz THROW POWER STONES.