Chapter Text
“I got the documents regarding chapter one’s ratings as soon as I can, ma'am,” The overworked staff member rushes into his executive’s room, plopping the stapled copy onto the snoozing woman’s desk.
The executive jerks awake, nearly toppling over her morning coffee, and with a snort, she tries to casually brush over her surprise, “Ah - ah, right. Thank you, thank you.”
“Sleep well last night?” The assistant gingerly attempts to make conversation.
Taking a quick sweep of her abandoned coffee cup and guzzling its remaining contents down in a single gulp, the woman rubs the bridge of her nose, “I swear, it is as if Shirogane wants to tear this season down with this cast. How are the polls?”
“Not good,” The assistant mutters as the executive brings the papers up to their glasses, “I don’t know what Miss Shirogane was thinking, framing the lead like that. Not to mention having such a flawed motive.”
Gritting their teeth as they scan the initial reviews and comments online, the executive throws the papers at the nearby wall with a huff, “I mean, seriously? What kind of dumbass (“Ma’am,” The assistant cautions, but is given no heed.) has the first motive of the entire game finish off everyone if they won’t comply. Like, of course they wouldn’t agree to such an outrageous demand. You are always supposed to have a strong first motivation, like something to do with their loved ones. Or- or something like that goes after their insecure state of mind. That is Danganronpa 101. I swear, it is as if she wants to tank this show off - Gah, what a goddamn moron (“Ma’am, I don’t think you should say that,” The assistant presses on, but cannot halt his executive’s ravings.) we hired on. Whose bright idea was to put an obsessive fan in the writer's chair instead of, you know, actual professionals? ”
There is a knock on the office’s door frame and the executive jolts. A pair of her co-workers, specifically Shirogane’s work friends, stands with bemused glances behind the anxious assistant, with one snidely asking, “Sorry, are we interrupting something?”
“Oh, oh, nope, nothing at all, just reading some of these reviews aloud,” The executive waves their hand to show the packet of the fan reception they have just received. Only to realize in horror there is nothing in their hand as they have just thrown said packet on the ground five seconds ago.
I might as well resign right now, the executive dramatically thinks to herself.
Her assistant hastily snatches the papers up and dutifully returns it into his executive’s hands. Straightening her tie, the executive asks, “Need anything? Just wanna say people aren’t all too happy with that first chapter.”
“Yeah, so we have been told,” One of the co-workers says, “We got an emergency show meeting at 12 noon. Sharp.”
“I’m sorry to interrupt but -,” Taking out his phone and scrolling to the calendar app, the assistant tries to point out his executive’s numerous meetings planned today, “I don’t think we can -”
“Make. it. happen,” The executive cuts with curt words, already standing to grab another cup of coffee, “This production is not going downhill by chapter two already.”
“Otherwise, we’ll all be out of a job,” One of Shirogane’s co-workers says.
…
“So … Does anybody have any bright ideas,” One of the creatives slams their hands on the board table with fake confidence, “How do you think we can salvage this next chapter? Me and my colleagues have been going over Shirogane’s script over again, and we believe we might need to intervene if we don’t want ratings to tank further.”
The grumpy executive, in charge of distribution and live reception, sitting cross-armed in the corner, calls out, “I can confirm as much.”
Her assistant scurries over to the projection, and with a click of his remote, a slew of comments flood the white board, and with a shaky voice, the assistant recites, “Many seemed to get attached to the Akamatsu character greatly -”
“That stuck-up blonde chick, right?” One staff member in the back of the darkened room asks, in reference to the person they all met who has taken up the title of Ultimate Pianist for the season. The assistant did not take kindly to the girl, as neither did most people. But Miss Shirogane had a role in mind and thought the girl had the perfect “trustworthy” face about her. Now playing back the footage of Kaede’s performance in chapter one, and much of the staff members there could see what Miss Shirogane was talking about.
But what they certainly did not understand was the abrupt death.
“She set that girl up for all that just for some bait and switch?” A writer says. “Nah, I’m with the fans on this one. That is a shit move to pull.”
The team all laugh as the playback footage shows the new main character, Shuichi Saihara or something like that, taking off their hat, with one piping up from their chair, “And just like that, we gotta do another self confidence plot line with the main character. Are you kidding me?”
“Hey, hey,” One jokingly nudges another’s elbow, “At least we don’t gotta reveal they are secretly Junko again or something.”
“Or maybe they are, who knows anymore?” The group burst into cackles.
“Okay, okay, cut it out. This is serious,” The one in charge says, taking possession of the remote and drawing attention to a handful of comments of upset viewers, “I want you to take a good, hard look at this feedback.”
The meeting are hit by a barrage of comments, such as:
“kokichi seems like such a nagito clone. I’m tired of all the nagito bait characters gahhhh-”
“IS JUNKO GONNA BE IN THIS GAME AGIN?!??!?!”
“this next chapter better not be filler trial shit”
“Dude the monokubs are so fucking annoying, it was good when it was just monokuma and Monomi”
“nooooooooooooooo :< why did they kill rantaro i miss him already T^T”
“It all got shit after 6”
“Here me out, 23 IS UNDERRATED”
“This is shaping up to be a disappointing one again i can feel it”
“Hajime was literally the only good protag i swear-”
“Ofc they kill off the only good protagonist smh…”
Turning to the rest of the table, the presenter waves a hand over at the wall of messages behind him, “Notice a pattern?”
“They all hate on anything that isn’t remotely related to the first two games?” One drly says.
“Bingo,” The presenter unexpectedly agrees, “We’ve tampered with the formula here and now, but everybody knows that will only rile up half of the fans again.”
In a world maddened by Danganronpa, pissing off half the fans is like pissing off half of Earth’s population.
“So hear me out,” There is a collective creak of everybody sitting up in their chairs, “I say we reuse a motive people liked from the first two games. Nothing recent. Something only dedicated, long time fans will notice. We’ll just give it a fresh coat of paint and send it in.”
“Wow, you sure nobody will notice a copied motive?” One writer asks.
“Nope, because we have Wikipedia articles dedicated to the five million motives we managed to think of. We just need a quick fix to really spice up this game for a chapter and see if reception goes up from there. We’ll just make sure it’s just so interesting that fans won’t mind.”
“Well, we’re short on time, so what motive do you all have in mind?” A board member sighs, rubbing the bridge of their nose.
There is a collective silence as everyone mentally brushes up on their Danganronpa trivia.
“Money can be an easy fix,” One suggests.
“But nobody in this cast is all too financially desperate,” Another points out.
“Embarrassing secrets? Murder video game? Another funhouse?”
“I don’t think we have the budget for another video game. Even more so a funhouse. Hm, maybe the embarrassing secrets can work.”
“Can we really think of fourteen secrets before the next day starts up again?” One cringes at the thought, “Especially secrets enough to push these characters to kill? They sure were stubborn for the last motive. They seemed almost fine with letting the time run out without giving in.”
“Yeah, Shirogane sure crafted the right kind of people to survive the killing game together,” One mused. “If we could just tinker with their personalities a bit to push them over the edge.”
“Wait, you’re onto something there,” A writer jumps from their chair, scribbling on a post-it note.
“Retconning their personalities?”
“Not exactly. You remember the third chapter for the second game? The motive was called the Despair Disease. Was able to mess with their personalities and break up the group dynamic again and separate them.”
“Yeah, but then the killer got it, and everybody hated how it ruined the killer’s own motivation. Nobody likes the third case anyway. Do you really want to recycle something that backfired last time this early on?” One of them challenged, but there is already a group growing around the triumphant writer.
“We’ll just change this around. Instead of opposing personalities, let them gain the personality from some previous characters in the first two games. Think about it: The established group dynamic will fracture and all the viewers will be reminded of their favorite characters. It’s a win win.”
“But we can’t have them dropping like flies from some disease,” A skeptic voices.
“Oh, better idea then,” Another writer chimes in with their own scribbled notes, “We’ll incentivize the group with the cure as a reward if there is a murder.”
“Yes, perfect, we’ll go with that then,” There is a growing buzz as everybody in the room realizes they might have a chance to fix this season.
“Quick, get the character files on the first two Danganronpa casts,” The executive orders her assistant off.
“So we go with random selection here?” One asks.
“Yeah, just a chaotic choice. Just strongly program them with some other character’s personality.”
“You sure the fans will like it,” One asks, still on the fence.
“I’m positive,” A writer cheers, “Because everybody likes a callback.”