INT: Valve HQ, midnight. GABE NEWELL, DOUG LOMBARDI, MARC LAIDLAW, CHET FALISZEK, ERIK WOLPAW, ROBIN WALKER, SAXTON HALE and MR G. MANN sit astride their genetically-engineered red and black-striped lynx, supping liquid gold from goblets carved out of velicoraptor skulls.
NEWELL: Gentlemen! I have gathered you here today to discuss my gravest concern. The day we have long awaited is here.
ALL: [Anxious muttering, some shouting.]
NEWELL: [Holds up a hand. The room falls quiet immediately.] No, please, silence. It's true. The time has come. We have made... [bows head. In pride? In shame? In reverence?] We have made enough money. We need no more. There is nothing we could do with more. Nothing is beyond our reach. Our work is done. Complete our last remaining project, and then we shall shut the doors on our mighty empire.
NEWELL: While 6.5 million already play it, a few human beings on this Earth are not yet able to access Dota 2, or at least not quite so conveniently as they would most prefer. Pray, remove the requirement for a sign-up process - let them simply install and play.
ALL: [Fevered activity, frantic instructions sent from their iPhone 8s.]
NEWELL: Furthermore, queueing to be allowed first access to the game has meant an unacceptable wait for some players. Here, [Reaches into own mouth, grunts in pain, then withdraws his hand. Clasped within it is a single, platinum, diamond-encrusted MOLAR] take this, and with it obtain all the servers we need to end this sad situation. No more queues! All shall play instantly! None shall wait! All shall fea... worship us!
ALL: [Coo in awe, followed by more fevered activity and communication to their unseen, blind, four-armed minions].
NEWELL: The Steam machines are on their way. Four hundred million and twelve indie games have been Greenlit. The end... approaches. Gentlemen, tell me - is there anything else we must complete before we close Valve, execute its staff and board our rocket to Ganymede to begin the terraforming project? Anything at all we might have left unresolved, unconcluded, that people have been waiting for while we busied ourselves with hardware and MOBAs and virtual trading cards?
ALL: [Pause, head-scratching]. Nope, can't think of anything.
NEWELL: Excellent. Then, to Ganymede! [Dons mech suit, punches through roof and jets skywards].