On the 39th floor of a 60-floor shiny semi-transparent slanted office tower that was half deserted and one third occupied by a fintech conglomerate, sat Pinnacle software. As a survivor of the industry’s self-implosion during the previous decade, their objective was to make pretty good games, as opposed to risking everything on a niche dream. At any rate, they didn’t have the budget to make games that looked like Triple-A titles, so they aimed to make games that played well, especially since many AAA games looked amazing but played like ASS. Unfortunately, many reviewers couldn’t recognise this and still focused on the graphics, often giving them a 7/10.
Pinnacle’s newest title, Pet-Chop, was a clone of the famous Pet-X-Night, where cute little animals would fight each other, in a cute way, in a tournament format, and definitely not to the death. In Pinnacle’s version, it was the same premise, albeit the fluffy funsters would be armed with guns, bazookas, flame-throwers and the kitchen sink. At least, this was the plan. Between bouts of staring at the ceiling panels and wondering what could be living above, Kevin was finishing up the storyboard. The graduate developer, clad in jeans, body warmer and red baseball cap, stood up and walked over to present the newest draft to his chief. Having removed the lustful aliens from the previous version, the protagonist, a school student with a baseball cap, would simply enter a tournament in order to use the prize money to save his family restaurant, impressing the love interest and gaining the respect of his class. This revised plot seemed a bit boring, but failsafe, in Kevin’s honest opinion.
The development chief swiped his way around the flow chart, while refraining from wiping his greasy brow. “Alright,” said the wizened veteran. “Now, let’s change the family restaurant to his uncle’s restaurant. Or Aunt’s, if you want.” He took this moment to turn quickly to Kevin with his wizened look. “You know why?” he quizzed. Oh god, thought Kevin, here comes another lecture. and while he respected his chief, he avoided all instances where he would have to call him by name, as he didn’t feel comfortable with using his first name and if he used his family name, he could cause offence. He also couldn’t help but feel aggrieved as another motherfucker was trying to interfere with his game. Kevin’s English name was Kevin, not quite the same as the one on his birth certificate. His chief had a weird foreign sounding name. Anyway, he knew that this senior mo’fer just had to continue lecturing, so he shook his head to prompt the elder to proceed.
“Because,” said Klelash, “the players can’t all relate to having a family restaurant. It’s better if the family is normal, where the dad works, and we don’t need to say where. Then we use the uncle or aunt to keep the link to family. That will keep the player invested. You see?”
Nodding his head like an automated store-front mascot, Kevin didn’t agree, as there were plenty of examples of the contrary. However, arguing was futile- Klelash didn’t really care about his opinions, or ideas, he just needed to make sure the game would satisfy both customer and company needs, and then take the credit, if it was a success.
“Also,” his brow furrowing, Klelash tapped on the last part of the flowchart. “I noticed you have only two endings. I remind you we have a contract with a books publisher, and a help hotline, so we need some secret endings, secret animals, hidden items, etcetera.”
“People still buy books?” Kevin was incredulous. “Doesn’t everyone just go on the Internet?” he said, gesturing with his shoulders hunched and palms upwards, that this was not understandable. “You’d be surprised” replied Klelash, adjusting his orange and yellow striped tie with almost a grin, as he was always right, “there are actually plenty of collectors.” He liked stressing the first syllable of ‘actually’, as if he was biting on a nipple. Just a little nip, mind you, before he would latch on and start suckling, as he lay on her lap in the well heated and colourful creche facsimile for adults, where the walls were painted with the sun nestled amongst the clouds, and where a good thirty percent of his salary would be milked; much more when there was a hostess who was actually lactating.
As Klelash was nodding off, Kevin went back to the drawing board. Three years later, the game was launched. The gun toting fluffy and furry critters were a hit. The similarities with the more famous title featuring pet creatures without AK-47s were certainly noted and the original company was about to sue them when they realised that every animal in the game was similar but arguably different. The rats were still rats as nobody could claim a copyright there and the famous horses from Pet-X-Night were copies at first glance, but upon a closer inspection wore different armour and had longer ears with tufts. The legal team was adamant that they could still do something, they just needed more time (and be paid for it).
As the charming pets stormed the battlefield, they also stormed the charts, as the element of violence that had always been missing from the family friendly original, was now satisfying the more bloodthirsty audience. In the original, while there was lightning, jet sprays, throwing rocks and flame breath attacks, there was no killing, skinning, eating, or stewing the opponent. Pet-Chop allowed all of this, and if players wanted to, they could join a voice chat and be racist as well. Indeed, there were a lot of violent minded fans, and the game reached the top 10 in the second week of sales.
One of the players of Pet-Chop was Evelyn. It was all she could think about. She needed to raise her level 21 Lamb-Chopper as soon as possible, so she could kill the level 30 Hamtastic Pugilist, which was blocking the way to the next town, which contained higher level equipment. The game wasn’t available in mobile format so she had to endure nine hours of bullshit or more, if she didn’t get take-away for dinner, before getting to play. On the subtrain, even the people watching videos with loud volume didn’t bother her. Her mind was on finding a good spot to kill smaller pets and level up. She used this time to discuss and research any shortcuts.
Marvin, her friendzoned pal from work, also played the game, which wasn’t helping him get over her. “Yeah,” he admitted, “it’s pretty tough, the pre-order DLC seems a bit shit at these levels. I mean, damn, the goldpink camo shotgun is like hitting for 40 HP a pop. Fucking trash. By the way,” he cursed himself as typed way too much and way too fast, but he couldn’t help himself. “Did you see that golden Trojan? Someone said they saw one, but nobody else did. Not sure if they were trolling but I’m sure there are some secret pets somewhere. I mean, there must be.”