The Offices of War Never Changes
Nine months ago
The office building of War Never Changes was a dark hulking mass. It loomed over the city skyline, Its windows pitch black, like dead eyes watching over the passersby below. People hurried along the streets kept their gaze averted, some small primal part of their brain that had kept their ancestors alive screamed danger. If one looked close enough, which was a rarity, silhouette of the building could be seen sucking in all the light around it, like an abyss threatening to swallow up the souls of those foolish enough to stray near.
Inside, the lights buzzed and flickered, casting an eerie, artificial light, onto the cluttered hallways lined with ill-lit colorful video game advertisements. It was a promise of escape they created but were unable to partake, stranded crafting the virtual from the confines of the mondain. The advertisements mocked those who lived in confinement with no chance of escape.
Workers scurried around like mice looking for crumbs, their cubicles a flimsy barrier, a patronizing pretense of privacy. The tile panels were not up to the task of holding back the oppressive shadow that the office had cast. Instead of purposeful chatter, activity, or the sounds of life, only vacant gazes remained, staring into blank computer screens as if searching for something lost in the dreams of a distant world.
Further above floor after floor of the same tragedy, was a different flavor of dystopia. The pristine conference room was now a chaotic mess. Paper wrappers, coffee mugs and sandwich crumbs covered the tables, abandoned lunch plates lay forgotten among them. A low rumble of conversation filled the air as the executives picked at their meal. All eyes were drawn to the figure at the head of the table in her crisp corporate suit; the CEO sat tall and unfazed by the disorder before her.
She was ramrod upright in her chair, her strong yet petite frame radiating confidence. Her tailored black suit accentuated her curves and the royal blue of her tie complemented the emerald hue of her eyes. When she shook hands with someone, her grip was firm and assured, leaving no doubt that she was the one in command. Those around her were captivated by her presence and knew not to challenge her authority; everything about her exuded power.
A scrawny figure with a mop of wild hair and beady eyes shuffled into the room, his arms weighed down by banners that flapped like tiny flags. The room was full of exhausted faces, yet when the seventh presenter of the day entered, there was a glimmer of hope in the air. The bored executives that had been listening to repetitive pitches about uninspiring topics all day perked up, intrigued by what this presenter could offer. He promised and adventure that he was sure they already approved of.
The mouse of a man set up his stand with utmost care, four large posters emblazoned with logos, illustrations, and two-foot tall words from the past. He kept them hidden under a tattered cloth, as if he were hiding something unspeakable. The executives watched on with interest, their eyes glimmering with anticipation.
The room was eerily quiet as the man pulled back the cloth with a dramatic flourish, the fabric whispering and hissing as he revealed his trump card to the crowd. Deathly silence was broken by his booming voice, proudly proclaiming, “Return to where it all began!”
On the posters, sepia-toned images of their first game filled the board, taken fifteen long years ago when enthusiasm was still rife and money flowed like wine.
The executives sat in quiet reverence, their eyes wide with nostalgia as they stared at the images from their past success, each evoking a different memory. As the bittersweet feelings washed over them, a few sighed wistfully for simpler days. Some of them leaned back in their chairs, a fond look on their faces as they remembered days gone by.
The presenter stood straight, his gangly form towering above the buzzing room before him. His resounding voice reverberated amongst the walls, “Gaming isn't about frivolous updates and gimmicky levels - it is about creating an epic experience that transports players to another world!” He strode forward with purpose and emotion, his aura enamoring the minds of those in attendance. “And we achieved that magnificently with our original installment of War Never Changes! It was our most cherished game, unsurpassable in its narrative and beauty. Thus we must preserve it; each update made only detracts from its perfect production. The title of this game is War Never Changes, so why do we keep attempting to change it?" Silence filled the chamber as his effortless eloquence swept through the crowd.
The CEO's expression shifted, "Are you suggesting we re-sell a fifteen year old video game?" she questioned, her voice rigid and deliberate.
"Yes maa'm."
"One that we have already sold to the same demographic before?" Her eyebrows furrowed as she probed for more information.
"Precisely."
"A product that they already own, only stripped of numerous expansions and countless hours of content?"
"That is absolutely correct."
The CEO rose from her seat and strode purposefully towards the presenter, her form dwarfing him even in his confident stance. She came to a stop directly in front of him and he looked up expectantly, beaming with pride at his rediscovery. With a suddenness that caught even herself off guard, she swung her arm back and released it forward, connecting the flat of her hand with the side of his face. He yelped in surprise, barely having the time to flinch before the slap connected with his cheek. The CEO recoiled as she felt a warmth on her palm and realized that there was a thin trickle of blood originating from his split lip. Her eyes widened in shock as she spat out, “Did you really just bleed on me? You’re fired.”
She slowly scanned the room with a frosty glare, her eyes darting from person to person as her voice bellowed through the chamber. “I don't want to be like this. I want to give you little people a chance to have some fun playing around. But you did something that can never be forgiven. You cost me money."
A hulking man in an ebony suit and reflective sunglasses stepped forward, his beefy hands fumbling around a white cloth he used to wipe away the still fresh droplets of blood from the woman's palm before retreating back to his post near the door without uttering a single word.
The woman paid him no heed, her words sharp and unyielding as she commanded, "Next presentation."
The CEO's eyes scanned the room, but none of the cowering lackeys had the courage to meet her gaze. Something caught her eye in a far corner, where a cold darkness stretched like a shroud - they really needed to replace some of these light fixtures- A solitary figure stood motionless and unafraid. She sensed something powerful and unknowable radiating from this man, Steele wasn't used to not knowing.
She narrowed her eyes, the corners of her lips twitching as she studied him. He stood tall and imposing, with a confidence that simultaneously intimidated and drew her in, a posture she could respect. He seemed almost familiar; a name on the tip of her tongue but too far away to seize.
An exec leaned forward. His voice was barely more than a whisper as he said, "That is the man from overseas—the one they call the legendary developer. He's a wanted man in his own country because of his revolutionary ideas!" She felt a relief wash over her; it was almost like an answer to their prayers - this could be just what they needed to turn things around.
Rumors of his power had spread, that he had developed video games so alluring that it drove players to the brink of insanity in their pursuit. Dozens fell victim to its siren's call, while others perished under the weight of their obsession. He was a valuable asset - an invaluable one, even - but if word ever got out of his involvement with the company, there would be... complications.
Bracing herself against a wave of doubt and fear, she brought herself to the edge of hope - could this man's plans offer them a way out? Her confidence grew as she closed in on the shrouded figure in the darkness, and for the first time, felt she was about to hear a presentation worth her time.
She paused, letting the moment hang before asking the dreaded question that had brought so many low before.
"And what is your proposal?"
The room clung to the silence. The man had no pitch, no flashy presentation, no big-brand sponsorship — just a powerful air of mystery, empty-handed. How could he possibly succeed where so many had failed? Yet he stood tall and confident.
"Raccoons," he declared without hesitation, locking eyes with Steel, an act that few had the nerve to try at all, much less sustain for any period of time.
A smirk crossed his face as her eyebrows arched up with disbelief. Raccoons? It was certainly not what she was expecting. He stood tall with a wild glint in his eye — it was almost as if he were daring anyone to challenge him. His fanaticism was palpable, and he had clearly put much thought into this endeavor.
The air felt heavy as everyone waited for the CEO's response. She slowly lowered her arm, but instead of coiling back to strike the man in disdain, she offered something unexpected... a handshake.
“Raccoons it is."