Chapter 111: Filming Wraps

Faced with the pressure from the industry giants, White Pictures appeared indifferent. Steve Ross was no fool; he was far more complex than he seemed on the surface. Rather than responding passively, it was better to wait for the right moment.

Merging with Time Group, merging with America Online—these were all triumphant examples. It was clear that the old man was no cinephile, but rather a ruthless capitalist magnate. Clashing with him over films was a losing game; movies simply weren’t what concerned him.

“Carl, I hereby announce that ‘The Brilliant Detective’ has officially wrapped.” Champagne corks popped in rapid succession, followed by someone drenched in a shower of bubbly.

William White lay back, drinking with his face turned to the sky, shedding the usual severity of days past. With a baseball cap pulled low over his face, he looked more like a rogue than a director.

Such a carefree demeanor held an irresistible charm for the young female fans.

Leaving the chaotic scene behind, the next event was naturally the big party. Americans were party animals by nature, and with such a fine reason to celebrate, they had every right to revel.

Being one of his classmates was a stroke of luck, an early entrée into this world. Never underestimate these connections—without them, you simply couldn’t succeed.

White Pictures’ wealth was no empty boast; the fare at their parties was guaranteed to meet five-star hotel standards.

The reporters over the past two days were frustrated. They had expected a grand show but were met with something entirely different.

Faced with Warner’s aggressive stance, White Pictures simply chose to back down. When questioned by the press, they feigned ignorance.

Fear? Don’t be ridiculous. Even if you banded together, you couldn’t compare.

In truth, you were mere professional managers, while they owned the industries outright.

A one-man show couldn’t last. If Warner kept pushing, they would end up the laughingstock. They had already been ignored; continuing to pester would just make them look insane.

After a night of chaos, William White was escorted home by his bodyguards.

He wasn’t drunk—there was no hard liquor—but he did feel a bit dizzy. Since there was nothing more to do here, it was best to head home.

Steve Ross was furious. In Hollywood, no one had ever dared to ignore his presence, yet this time he had been spectacularly snubbed.

“Have they finalized next year’s schedule?”

“They only have a verbal agreement with Lucas; no official date yet.”

White Pictures’ success had indeed placed heavy pressure on him. Shareholders didn’t care about the reasons; all they saw was a booming film market while their investments constantly failed. That was absolutely unacceptable.

The bitterness from the film setback hadn’t yet faded when his pride in the gaming company took a hit.

A player in capital operations, he quickly grasped William White’s strategy. Abandoning oil was telling—the real target was entertainment media.

This was practically another Warner, just a smaller version. The old man couldn’t sit still and resolved to teach that arrogant upstart a lesson.

Dealing with such an unpredictable figure was maddening. If he continued to play his game, that brat would surely play the victim card.

He had no choice but to resort to conventional business tactics. It wasn’t only the Jews who played the victim; these people were masters too. Take a look at White Wine—now proudly displayed in the windows of all the top hotels.

You could sneer and scorn at home, even flush it down the toilet if you wished, but would you dare do that in public?

Like Cuban cigars: you could smoke them at home, but in public, discretion was paramount. The country banned imports, yet you dared smuggle them?

American cigars were terrible.

That was a line no one dared cross. Ordinary people could say whatever they liked, but public figures had a different moral standard.

Certain powerful forces had warned him repeatedly: don’t act rashly, or face the consequences.

Confronting a loose-lipped, reckless kid would only escalate things. Drag religion into it, and many would lose face.

He slipped off the silk cover and walked naked into the bathroom. He had gone straight to bed after returning last night; his sticky body felt uncomfortable.

Today he still had to go to the editing room. Another film awaited, with many scenes to shoot in Europe—this could not be delayed.

“Boss, Steve Jobs wants you to come by Apple,” Suzuki said, holding yesterday’s briefing, informing him someone was looking for him.

“Hmm, I’ll go in the next couple of days. Let him know once it’s confirmed.”

William White’s breakfast was a blend of East and West: not only his favorite steamed buns but also a fine millet porridge. Yet, this alone wasn’t enough; a steak was essential.

Upon arriving at the company, he immediately began editing work. The new editor had yet to be hired, so they made do for now.

Warner’s name still carried weight; it was natural to lose some staff to them. To say it wasn’t frustrating would be unrealistic—it was already affecting normal operations.

“Suzuki, inform the legal department. Everyone we recruit this time must sign a special clause forbidding them from working in this industry for a year.”

William White was beside himself with anger. That damn old man—just wait and see how I deal with you next.

Superman, huh?

Just watch how I settle the score.

The second Superman film’s plot had already collapsed. Three villains appeared out of nowhere, threatening Superman into battle.

Did you really think movies were comics? Those were just for kids. If you simply copied the comic book, you’d end up worse off than a pig at slaughter.

Next summer’s blockbuster lineup was already crowded: an Indiana Jones adventure, a Superman sequel, and a Mr. Bean-style 007—all ruthless competition.

Atari.

You think I only play arcade games?

Enjoy yourself for now. You’ll be crying soon enough.

The same old problem prevailed: semiconductor development lagged far behind, especially for personal PCs.

The big players, led by the Blue Giant, still ignored personal PCs, focusing new technologies on mainframes.

Computers were like this; don’t even mention gaming consoles—they were the absolute lowest tier.

Yet Americans loved to play. Atari’s trashy games still sold well.

William White’s arcade machines were already approaching 32-bit systems. Teaching an 8-bit processor opponent a lesson was pure bullying.

8-bit CPU consoles were meaningless now. White had no plans to develop for them; he was waiting for the right moment to crush Atari completely.

Legendary World’s bold entry into the home console market sent shockwaves through the industry, with Atari feeling the brunt.

As fellow game developers, they knew White’s arcade machines were a waste; the three simple games barely taxed a 16-bit processor.

Since development had been announced, porting them to consoles was only natural. One such game would be a headache; three simultaneously would force Atari to pack up.

Damn, this was real retaliation.

By comparison, Warner’s moves were low-level, lacking the stature of a true titan.