Chapter 5 #2
Marnie, who shepherds her flock of artistic geniuses like a mother hen, bristles. “We all know you’d happily sell dogshit. But we won’t make dogshit.”
Ahmed, head of production, leans forward. “We wanted cinematic. But cinematic increases complexity by orders of magnitude. If you wanted a pixelated plumber chasing princesses, you should have said. I’d give you that tomorrow. But good luck selling it in today’s market.”
“And good luck selling a game that falls over every two seconds,” spits Ramesh, the head of technology. All of them are openly angry. There are mutters from all corners. They’re already working under pressure; they don’t need these playground-level games of one-upmanship.
Then Anders steps in. He stands to get their attention, and the room quiets immediately. That’s his effect. His black-clad form crosses the room, his hand falling reassuringly on the shoulder of his head of tech.
“Ram,” he says. “I won’t release a buggy game.” His eyes lift across the table. “And we all knew this game had to be cinematic. That decision was made ages ago.” His gaze sweeps along. “I’m sure Scarlett appreciates the issues.”
I doubt that but I keep silent.
“Of course,” Scarlett says as she beams up at him. But Anders misses it as he’s already turned back to face Ramesh and Ahmed.
“But we need to release this year.” He doesn’t need to add the subtext.
Apart from Scarlett, everyone here is on the management team.
They all know about the company’s precarious finances.
Anders continues. “I’m thinking October.
But we won’t announce until July. What do you think, Piotr?
Will three months be enough to get the build-up we need? ”
“Well, it’s not a seasonal game so November and December would be duds.
The big studios, by and large, have already announced their release dates for October.
If we can avoid those, I think we could do it.
Early access has helped create a buzz.” He nods, but then adds, “Of course there’s still danger from other indie studios. ”
Ahmed interjects, “Word on the street has Wobbegong Interactive aiming for October.”
“Sharks,” Ramesh comments, and everybody titters.
They’re a competitor to us but their monetisation tactics are a lot more aggressive.
They push micro-transactions heavily, where players keep having to pay for small add-ons for a better game experience.
Anders’s fundamental belief has always been that’s exploitative.
If the players have paid for the game up-front, they should get to play the best version of it.
Anders turns to Ahmed, one eyebrow raised. “October?” he questions.
Ahmed shifts uncomfortably under his gaze. “Perhaps.”
“Not good enough.”
“Thirty-first,” Ahmed says, going for the maximum wriggle room even as everyone knows it’s not possible.
“Coward,” sneers Scarlett, unhelpful as always. I wonder at her nerve. Apart from me, she’s the most junior person present. She’s only here because she will need to co-ordinate the release with our partners.
“I’ll help,” Anders offers. There’s an audible gasp, and everyone looks horrified.
I smile. Anders built this studio from scratch.
He’s done almost everyone’s job at some time or another and he’s done it well.
But many of our employees describe an Anders intervention as the most terrifying experience of their lives.
He turns up behind them, watches for ten minutes silently unnerving them, and then lists out all their mistakes.
It’s his idea of help. He does it to me all the time.
And he can’t imagine why I turned down his marriage proposal.
“Engineering will hit whatever date is decided,” Ramesh says hurriedly before Anders offers to invade his domain too.
But it still takes an hour before we have an agreed date in October that both tech and creatives are confident of hitting and that is clear of any big-name launches.
The platter of doughnuts is littered with crumbs, and the coffee flask is empty as the meeting draws to a close. One by one, the management team filter out, leaving Anders and me. And Scarlett.
As I collect up all the paper left behind for shredding, Scarlett sidles up to my boss.
“Did you want to go over the terms of the contract with the new localisation provider?” she asks, gazing up at Anders. Did I just see her eyelashes flutter? “I’m happy to stay late. Maybe get some takeout?”
But Anders looks straight past her. “I don’t think that will be necessary. It’s a straightforward subcontract. I trust you to do your job. Cora, do you want a hand with those?” He’s spotted me loaded up with the giant flasks and half-empty water bottles.
We swap. I take his laptop; he takes the coffee and tea canteens in one large, strong hand and the plates in the other. The meeting room door closes behind us, leaving Scarlett alone.
And another burst of heat diffuses outwards from the approximate location of my chest.
How very strange. I hope I’m not going down with something.