This was my chance to jump in. “Well, I worked in advertising for a few years, and what I do know is that this game has gotten a ton of buzz in a short period of time. It’s gone viral. There have been over five thousand mentions of the Ultimate Apocalypse game in the last week, most within the past two days. I say we take advantage of this.”
Everyone asked me in unison, “How?”
“I don’t have a ton of ideas right now, but with a proper brainstorm, I bet we could get more. The first thing we need to do is to collect newsletter sign-ups on our company website and create a game website to allow people to sign up for a newsletter there, too. We can send exclusive updates, announcements, and insider scoops to all the subscribers. Even if people hate the game, and they hate me, they might subscribe just to share the intel, so they seem ‘in the know,’ and they’ll still buy the game just to play it and complain about it.”
Kat raised her eyebrows. “Hmm, this is something we’ve never done before. It’s a good idea. Remember, there are also a ton of nonhater people who will want to buy the game to support women in gaming too.”
I chimed in. “Yeah, this morning on my drive in I was trying to think of ways to turn this situation around. Make lemonade out of lemons. Polish a turd. You know.”
All eyes swooped over to Ian, who had gotten up to stride in a loop around his office. I had nothing more to add. Neither did Kat. We waited for his verdict on the newsletter idea.
Ian stared at me, and then at Joe. “The marketing team’s pretty stretched as it is. But hold on.”
He picked up the phone receiver and punched a four-digit extension. “Can you come by my office?” A beat. “Now, please.”
Within seconds, Nolan burst through the doorway, panting heavily. Trying to smooth out the untucked gray-checked shirt he wore the other day, he asked Ian, “What’s so urgent?”
“Nolan, I need you to set up a marketing newsletter, and get a game website spun up this week. Drop everything you’re doing.”
My face fell instantly at Ian’s suggestion, just as Nolan sent me an excited look. There was no way he misinterpreted my deep frown of disappointment. But I had good reason: Nolan had zero marketing experience outside of his MBA coursework. Damn it, why’d they assign my marketing idea to an intern? I steadied my breathing, pushing down the anger rising within my chest.
Nolan glanced away from me and met Ian’s authoritarian stare. “But you asked me to clean up all the PowerPoint slides for the board presentation.”
Ian let out a huge exasperated sigh, one that could fill up an entire balloon in one blow. “I’m asking you to pivot.”
“Pivot?” Nolan repeated. “But isn’t the board presentation really important?”
“Yes, but shift gears.” Ian looked at Joe. “Try to reschedule the board meeting. It’s probably too late but there’s too much negative shit happening and I can’t get ahead of it.” His gaze swept the room like a searchlight. “You guys can all go. Let’s meet again tomorrow, same time.” He clapped and rubbed his hands together. “Oh, wait, before all of you leave, I had a cool idea for you guys this morning! I was thinking, maybe we should change the game completely, kind of a rebranding? Like, instead of strippers ridding the world of apocalyptic threats, maybe we make this a first-person shooter game that’s called Zombies or Hobos? The player would have to determine if it’s a hobo or a zombie before they shoot. It adds some strategy to the game. What do you think? It’s a little left field, I know.”
When no one responded other than offering him looks of surprise and horror, he asked, “Bad idea?”
Joe the PR guy, Kat, and I shouted in unison, “Bad idea!”
Ian looked at Nolan, who nodded silently.
“You’d have a lot of homeless advocacy groups go after you with pitchforks,” Kat explained. “And that’s the last thing you need right now. Oh, and in general it’s a pretty fucked-up idea. Shooting humans. Some of those guys are vets, you know.”
Ian nodded. “I suppose you’re right.”
Nolan trailed Ian out the door, hanging back to talk to me before exiting. “Way to have my back in there, Mel,” he said, with resentment seeping into his voice.
I crossed my arms. “Well, look at it from my perspective. You don’t have any marketing experience, and you’re now leading two big marketing initiatives.”
He shook his head. “You dismissed me because you thought I couldn’t do something just because I’ve never done it before. Isn’t that what you’re always complaining about? People second-guessing you?” His accusation hit me like a wallop to the face.
Before I could explain myself, he was already gone.
Later, I found Nolan in the kitchen, pouring himself a coffee. “Don’t worry, I brought this mug from home. I didn’t steal it from anyone.”
Ouch.
I was terrible at apologies, but now was the time to try to get better at them. “I’m a hypocrite. You were right. I shouldn’t have dismissed you like that. You’re smart and you’re good at everything I’ve seen you do here. I’m sorry.” For some reason, I couldn’t just leave it at that. A simple, straightforward mea culpa. “But don’t fuck up the marketing stuff, please.” I meant it as a joke, but his face read not funny loud and clear.
He shrugged. “Fine.”
I expected him to say more. When he shoved his hands into his pockets and said nothing else, it was his signal we were done. The tightness remained in my chest, and the apology I offered him didn’t relieve any of that pressure. And it was all my fault.
Across the hall, Kat motioned for me to come over to her office. “For a gaming noob, you’ve managed to cause quite an epic shitstorm. You’ve even made that poor intern work overtime.”
“I know, I know.” I sighed. “What a mess. I didn’t want any of this to happen.”
She laughed. “People who cause epic shitstorms never, ever do.”
The truest words I’d ever heard.
Chapter Thirteen
Asher’s greenish-yellowish skin pallor scared me into examining the light fixtures in our shared office. Either the overhead fluorescents were so jacked up that they cast a pukey hue only on Asher’s side of the office or the lights were in working order and he looked like total vomitus shit.
“Asher? Do you still need another sick day? I’d rather you go home than breathe in your contaminated oxygen.”
He lifted his eyes from his laptop screen. If they narrowed any farther, they’d be closed. “I took a sick day yesterday. I don’t have any more PTO time, so I need to be here today, otherwise I’d need to take unpaid leave. But thanks for your concern.”
I booked a conference room for the day to get away from Asher’s germy air, because really, could I afford to get sick during this crisis, during this production crunch time? My essentials for a full day of conference room camping included a laptop, notebook, pen, cell phone, and water bottle.
Asher glanced up again, and this time I detected a half-relieved and half-smug look on his face. Before I left for the day we needed to talk about a few important things.
“So, Asher, I’m leaving now, but before I go I need to ask you something. Forgive my bluntness, but did you leak that game info to BetaGank?”
“Me?” He looked neither surprised nor guilty. He just looked feverishly sick. Goddamn pukey poker face, masking all emotions.
“Yes, you.” I needed to know if he leaked the news of my game to BetaGank and left me out to hang.
“You want the truth?” He took his hands off his keyboard and put them in his lap. “I was glad to see that info get leaked. Because I didn’t think you deserved that job. I’d been here way longer than you and they didn’t even consider me for the lead production position. And you waltzed in here and got to work on a big title. Fuck the board of directors. Yeah, the fact that BetaGank called you out made me happy. But don’t look at me when you’re looking for someone to blame. It wasn’t me.”
His voice softened a little. “Honestly, I didn’t expect such a fucking shitstorm to come of it, though. It’s all pretty fucked up right now.”
He propped his elbows on his desk and placed his chin on his interlocked fingers, like a pedestal. His open body language made me believe he was telling the truth. But I couldn’t read him. Could I trust Asher? If he was being truthful and he didn’t leak the insider information, then who did?
I chose my next words carefully. “Thanks for being so candid. I’m sorry you felt that way about my involvement in production. I was the creator of the game, though, remember that? I’m taking my idea to completion, it’s as simple as that. There wasn’t any plan to steal a lead production job from underneath you, just so you know. It just sorta . . . happened. But I’m a quick learner and a damn good project manager.” He stayed in his pedestal position, so I went on. “I know we got off on the wrong foot. And by that, I mean we just hate each other. I’ll go ahead and say it.”
He sniggered. “Yeah, I guess the feeling is mutual.”