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🕑 Added 2025-06-18 16:31:49 +0000 UTCChapter 1518: A Real Eye-Opener
What an eye-opener!
That was the only thought running through Nicholas’s mind.
Even with all his imagination stretched to the limit, Nicholas still couldn’t have pictured the scene unfolding before him. Anson had somehow turned a movie premiere into an actual carnival—a literal, full-blown celebration!
Sure, if it were just that, it’d be novel enough, but it’d still lack a certain spark. A carnival’s grand and lively, but without more, it’d just be a flashy party with no real connection to Spider-Man—all noise, no substance.
On that note, Nicholas had one piece of advice: never underestimate Anson.
Turning Rockefeller Center into a carnival was already a wild, audacious move, but clearly, Anson wasn’t content to stop there.
If the first half of the event had a standout hit, it was the photo booth recreating the iconic upside-down kiss. Couples weren’t the only ones lining up—friends couldn’t wait to give it a try too. The queue stretched out in a long, winding dragon of eager participants. But the second half? That’s where things got really interesting with a simple yet brilliant life-simulation game.
At that booth, there were twenty computers, each loaded with a single-player game. Once you started, you could pick from four characters: Peter Parker, Mary Jane, Norman Osborn, or Harry Osborn.
No surprise—Peter Parker was the overwhelming favorite, with over 85% of players choosing him.
Picking a character was the easy part, though. What came next was a series of fifteen choices—decisions that weren’t as simple as they seemed.
For example: During the underground boxing match, do you follow the shady orders and throw the fight? After it’s over, do you stop the robber who bolts out the door? On the Brooklyn Bridge, do you save the cable car or Mary Jane? When Mary Jane confesses her feelings, do you accept her love? Do you come clean about your identity to Aunt May? What about Harry? Or Mary Jane?
And so on.
When you’re just a viewer sitting in front of a movie screen, it’s easy to judge. From that lofty perch, you can casually say what a character should or shouldn’t do, as if making the “right” choices could neatly control life’s chaos.
But reality’s a lot messier. Pointing fingers at someone else’s decisions is a breeze—until you’re the one stuck in the muck of your own life.
This little game gave everyone a chance to step into those shoes. Your choices shaped the outcome, spinning off into different endings like a parallel universe.
Twenty years later, the whole parallel-universe gimmick might feel overplayed, even exhausting. But back in 2004? It was fresh, mind-blowing stuff. Players couldn’t wrap their heads around how their decisions could send Peter Parker down hundreds, maybe thousands, of unique paths.
Of course, the game wasn’t that complex. After all, this was just a premiere event, and the activity was only one piece of the puzzle. According to the booth staff, they’d crafted 333 distinct endings for Peter Parker, with 66 each for Mary Jane, Norman Osborn, and Harry Osborn—enough variety to keep repeats rare.
When you finished, you got a beautifully made bookmark with your personal ending printed on it.
“Your Peter Parker, at age 35, ends up a washed-up alcoholic with nothing to show for it.”
“Your Peter Parker loses his powers and becomes an ordinary guy—until someone named Tony Stark builds you a pair of web-shooting gloves.”
“Your Peter Parker settles into a happy marriage and a potbelly, just another regular Joe.”
“Your Peter Parker becomes a warzone journalist.”
“Your Peter Parker joins a big organization, no longer just saving New York but becoming a neighbor to the whole planet.”
“Your Peter Parker—sorry—destroys New York.”
The possibilities were wild and endless.
But the real magic? This game made you realize how one choice could spiral into a totally different life. It’s not as easy as it looks. And at the end of the day, Peter Parker’s just a high school kid.
Unbelievable!
Who’d have thought Anson would sneak a life-simulation game into a premiere? It wasn’t just about costumes or aesthetics—he’d actually pulled people into Peter Parker’s world.
Bold. Stylish. Cutting-edge.
He’d already toyed with this idea at The Butterfly Effect premiere, letting audiences dip into the movie’s vibe before the screening even started. Now, he’d taken it further, smashing the fourth wall so fans could step right into the story.
You had to hand it to him… the guy was good.
The whole premiere radiated a campus vibe. Every booth worker wore a uniform—school outfits for the younger ones, faculty suits for the older crowd—mirroring Spider-Man’s setting as closely as possible.
This wasn’t just a carnival.
The moment you stepped into the space, you were in Peter Parker’s world.
And that still wasn’t all.
The Butterfly Effect premiere had introduced jaw-dropping merchandise that opened a whole new world, and this time was no different. The surprise? A palm-sized Spider-Man plushie.
There were tons of other goodies too—variety galore, creativity off the charts. No one left a booth empty-handed; there was something for everyone. But the real treasures weren’t for sale—you had to try your luck with a gacha machine. Characters, poses, designs—all random.
The machine had thirty different plushies, but the hottest one was a crouching Spider-Man. Why? It was the only one with a removable mask, revealing Anson’s adorable face underneath. It became the premiere’s most coveted prize, a hot commodity on the spot.
The movie hadn’t even hit theaters yet, and that plushie was already fetching $3,000.
Still, good luck finding one for sale.
The scavenger hunt tradition carried over too. You didn’t need to hit every booth—just get stamps from ten, any ten, and you could claim a poster at the Radio City Music Hall entrance.
The posters were random.
It didn’t take long for diehard fans to uncover a hidden twist: collect stamps from every booth, and you could pick from three exclusive posters. These weren’t promo shots—they were candid, behind-the-scenes snaps of Anson on set, turned into special keepsakes.
Insanity. Pure insanity. Rockefeller Center had lost its mind.
It was a kaleidoscope of color and chaos, and Nicholas had to admit: this premiere was unreal. It completely shattered the mold, inventing something entirely new.
Even casual passersby stopped to gawk, drawn in by curiosity, while others showed up just for the hype.
The press hadn’t even dropped their reports yet, and Spider-Man 2’s premiere was already setting Manhattan ablaze, wave after wave.
Still, amid all the awe, Nicholas had to be honest: he was a tiny bit let down. Was Anson finally running out of steam?
Chapter 1519: Running Out of Steam?
Praise aside, Nicholas had no doubt that the Spider-Man 2 premiere would once again shake up Hollywood, leaving every movie studio dumbfounded.
Even now, standing in the middle of the crowd, he could already picture tomorrow’s chaos. The media and Hollywood were in for a wild storm.
Eye-opening!
Mind-blowing!
It was all true.
But at the same time, if you peeled back the surface and looked at the core—after the initial shock wore off and you calmed down to think it through—you’d notice something:
The Spider-Man 2 premiere was just a variation of The Butterfly Effect’s format, scaled up.
That was it.
The structure, the form, the content—none of it brought anything truly new to the table.
Of course, Anson had still tweaked things to fit Spider-Man 2’s vibe. He’d made sure the premiere wasn’t just a basic photo-op and interview platform but a gateway for the audience to step into the movie’s world. That shift in the very nature of a premiere was still impressive as hell.
Whether it was the content, the scale, the onsite atmosphere, or the overall experience, the Spider-Man 2 premiere was undeniably a massive success.
Still, Nicholas couldn’t help but hope for more—
Just a tiny spark of… inspiration.
Everything was great, everything was top-notch, but compared to past events, today’s premiere was missing that little flicker, that chemical reaction.
It felt like it lacked a certain indefinable burst of creativity.
Realizing this, Nicholas couldn’t hold back a chuckle.
Anson Wood—an actor, or more precisely, still just a “pretty face” in Hollywood’s eyes—wasn’t some expert marketer or PR guru. Promotion, event planning, marketing strategies? Those weren’t his job. No one should be relying on him for genius ideas.
Up to now, Anson had already delivered countless surprises—including today. Honestly, people shouldn’t expect him to keep topping himself.
And yet?
“Running out of steam.” Nicholas caught himself judging, nitpicking, turning critical.
It was like a straight-A student who always aced every test suddenly scoring a 95—and everyone jumping to criticize. But the real kicker? This student wasn’t even in the class. He’d just wandered in, casually guest-starred, and now they were treating it like a PhD dissertation defense.
The poor guy was probably confused as hell.
The whole thing was absurd.
And that little detail proved just how much influence Anson had in Hollywood.
People could keep calling him a vase, a hollow shell. They could keep griping that his box office wins weren’t about the work or his star power but some clever marketing gimmick. They could gloat that once he “ran dry,” his ticket sales would tank—
But no one could deny it: all of Hollywood had its eyes on Anson.
That alone showed the impact he’d made on the industry in just a few short years, flipping expectations upside down again and again.
Across the board—top to bottom, even the pros—everyone’s hopes for Anson had quietly climbed to insane, unimaginable heights. Even when he handed in a 120% effort, they’d still arrogantly pick it apart and ask:
“Why not 121%?”
Behind the bias was jealousy. And behind the jealousy? Awe and admiration.
He was so much more than just a pretty face.
So…
Innovation wasn’t the point. Copying wasn’t the point. They should ditch the noise and prejudice and focus on the party right in front of them.
From any angle, this was a successful premiere. Those ecstatic faces, the electric energy in the air, the nonstop stream of passersby joining in—it didn’t even need media coverage to spread its influence. All of New York was buzzing.
That kind of power proved Anson was truly at the top of Hollywood’s pyramid.
A 95 versus a 100? Sure, the gap was there, objectively. But there was no need to nitpick. Better to drop the tension and anxiety and just soak in the moment.
Phew.
Nicholas let out a long breath, finally tucking away his journalist instincts. He started walking down the street, ready to enjoy the vibe for real.
His steps carried him along the square, looping streets, until he reached the center: Radio City Music Hall.
Today, the whole premiere was wide open, just like The Butterfly Effect. The crowd could roam freely to every corner of the event.
The only exception was a tiny red carpet—barely twenty meters—at Radio City Music Hall’s main entrance. That’s where the actors and director would show up, and where the press would snap their shots.
Soon, Nicholas picked up on two details.
First, this wasn’t some small venue like the Wilshire Theatre. If Anson and the team arrived, they’d have to walk at least a hundred meters to reach the hall. With the massive, packed crowd today, one slip, and things could spiral out of control. This was Spider-Man 2, after all—
Had Sony Columbia even thought about that? Were the actors just going to roll up surrounded by a security team? That’d totally undermine the whole point of this premiere.
Second, there was a small stage at the entrance—something The Butterfly Effect didn’t have. Sony Columbia had set up a photo zone with the official Spider-Man 2 poster as the backdrop for press shots. But the thing was, the stage was a bit high.
About fifty centimeters off the ground. For a photo area, wasn’t that a little much?
Right away, Nicholas caught himself slipping back into work mode—hunting for details, digging for hidden meanings.
He shook his head, brushing off the thoughts, and convinced himself to just enjoy the party.
Turning around, a grin crept up on his face—
Maybe there was something new here after all. Maybe it was different. Maybe it wasn’t as underwhelming as he’d thought. The proof was right in front of him.
This was a campus festival, and the young crowd was fully letting loose, soaking in the carefree chaos. They’d tossed out the stiff, stuffy premiere stereotypes and kicked off their own party.
In the crowd, one kid was playing the violin, belting out a lively tune, trying to rally people to join in the fun.
Too bad only a handful—maybe a dozen—were scattered around him. The dazzling booths were too much competition; no one had time to stop. The constant flow of people didn’t linger, leaving the violinist looking a bit bummed.
Not far off, another kid was banging on an African drum clamped between his legs, laying down a cheerful, bouncy beat. This one was a bigger hit—passersby couldn’t help but clap along and dance a little. The crowd didn’t stick around long, but the smiles popping up left a mark.
The format didn’t matter. What did was this: everyone stepping into this world was finding their own way to enjoy the madness.
Chapter 1520: A Spark of Inspiration
The air buzzed with noise—lively, chaotic, and cheerful. Every now and then, you could catch snippets of melodies swirling around, clashing in the atmosphere. It was the quintessential vibe of a school festival.
But there was so much new and dazzling stuff to take in that it stole all your focus. The visual overload slowed your brain to a crawl, leaving only a relentless hum pounding against your eardrums. Your hearing dulled, and those melodies faded into background noise.
Faintly, fragmented, your ears could pick up traces of a tune, but the notes refused to connect, buried under the clamor.
Nicholas noticed a violinist standing amid the surging crowd. The guy’s eyes darted around with a hint of longing, lingering as he hesitated in the tide of people. But eventually, he shook off the melancholy, opened his case, and started packing up his instrument. Looked like he was calling it a day.
Nicholas wasn’t sure why he kept fixating on this violinist.
Maybe it was because a classical instrument like a violin felt a little out of place here. Or maybe it was just weird seeing a street musician at a movie premiere of all things.
Maybe it reminded him of the harsh reality of busking—like that band, August 31st. Or maybe it was simply that the melody stood out, cutting through the racket and grabbing his ear.
Or maybe it was because the scene echoed that iconic moment from Titanic.
Whatever it was, his gaze drifted over unintentionally. Amid the hustle and bustle, he quietly watched the violinist’s lonely figure.
The guy had finished packing his violin and turned toward a nearby booth, probably ready to dive into the premiere’s tidal wave of activity.
Just then, three girls who’d been watching him from a distance nudged each other awkwardly. After some shoving, one of them mustered up the courage to step forward. She approached the violinist cautiously and said something, her voice rising over the din. The noise swallowed her words, though, and the violinist didn’t catch it. He leaned in closer, ear tilted toward her, and she repeated herself.
A smile crept onto the violinist’s face.
He didn’t say anything back. Instead, he swiftly reopened his case, pulled out his violin, and propped it on his shoulder, tweaking it with practiced ease.
With a quick turn, he faced the three girls. For a moment, he tuned out the rest of the crowd, playing just for them.
Pluck, pluck, pluck.
He didn’t use the bow—instead, he strummed the strings with his fingers. The violin let out a deep, rich sound—
But it was completely drowned out by the crowd’s roar. One instrument, especially plucked by hand, didn’t stand a chance against the wall of noise.
The violinist glanced at the girls. They nodded eagerly, beaming with delight.
Nicholas couldn’t help but wonder: What had they said to him? What was he playing?
Before he knew it, his feet were moving, drawn toward them like a magnet. As he got closer, that low melody started to take shape.
Wait… was that “Stand By Me”?
The song first came out in 1961 by Ben E. King and was a decent hit back then, climbing as high as number four on the U.S. charts. But it really took off in 1986 when Stand By Me—the movie—used it as its theme, sparking a craze.
It’s timeless now, one of the 20th century’s most iconic and beloved classics.
“When the night has come, and the land is dark, and the moon is the only light we’ll see—no, I won’t be afraid, no, I won’t be afraid, just as long as you stand, stand by me.”
“Darling, stand by me, oh… stand by me.”
Like the lyrics, the song fit the movie perfectly—a story about four twelve-year-olds trekking along a railroad to find a peer’s body. It starts as an adventure, but none of them expect it to become a defining moment of growing up.
The lilting melody, the raw emotion, that gritty voice—it all came together to make the song legendary.
Nicholas never would’ve guessed the girls had requested this song. Something tugged at his chest—
Why this one? Was it a coincidence, or planned? What did it have to do with Spider-Man 2?
Before he could unravel that thought, an African drummer nearby—who knows when he showed up—caught the violinist’s eye. With a nod, he jumped in with light, nimble beats.
The violinist noticed, shifting his gaze from the girls to the drummer. They synced up, tapping out the rhythm with their chins and right feet, searching for each other’s groove. Strings and drums wove together, and the melody started to cut through. People drifting by began to glance over.
From the crowd behind came a shout, brimming with excitement: “Hey, wait up! Add me in, add me in!”
The voice hit before the person did.
Pushing through the not-too-packed crowd, a figure stumbled in, flustered and eager. He fumbled to sling a guitar case off his back, yanked out his guitar, tossed the case aside, and clutched the instrument as he joined the violinist and drummer. His face was lit up with pure thrill.
His clumsy enthusiasm drew a ripple of friendly laughter from the crowd.
But despite his goofy entrance, the guitarist got serious fast. He listened intently to his partners, waiting for the right moment to jump in. His strings hummed alongside the violin, building layers and depth until the melody fully emerged, shedding its mystery.
The three girls swapped glances, their faces glowing with joy as they softly hummed along.
It wasn’t just them—everyone knew this classic, even if they didn’t know its name. The melody sparked memories, a song you’d heard somewhere, sometime, guaranteed. Before you realized it, you were humming too.
No lyrics, just the tune.
Then, two maracas, a jazz drum, a portable keyboard, another guitar, a flute, and a saxophone trickled in. Somehow, they formed a ragtag jazz band.
This makeshift crew had no rehearsal, no coordination, and half the instruments didn’t even fit the vibe. They were a total mishmash, leaning on raw instinct and a shared love for music. Bit by bit, through the clash of notes, they found harmony and spun out a melody.
It was pure magic.
By the time Nicholas snapped out of it, their little circle had ballooned—three layers deep with onlookers, every eye locked on them.
It was like Titanic all over again, except this time, people actually heard them. When the song ended, a shout rang out from the crowd.
“‘Wake Me Up!’”
No rallying cry needed—scattered voices picked it up, rising and falling. “Wake Me Up!”
The motley band exchanged looks: No cello—now what?
The African drummer scanned around, then boldly took the lead, striking a steady boom, boom, boom. The beat rippled out softly.
(End of Chapter)
