It was nearly noon when Chloe Quinn got back to WindyPeak Games Inc. in Seattle.
She'd hustled back to join Zoey Parker in meeting the two new hires Gus Shepard recommended. But by the time she walked through the glass doors, the contracts were already signed.
Chloe pinched her forehead, silently cursing Zoey's impulsiveness. Too late now—she'd just have to roll with it.
Might as well meet the new guys. They'd be working together daily, so a quick hello seemed smart.
She headed to Gus's office, ready to knock, when voices spilled out—
"I'm your dad."
"Nah, you be the dad. Fits you better."
"No way. Who's the dad here?"
"You the dad?"
"I'm the dad, right?"
"Or who's the daddy?"
"Yeah, that's it. Winner's the daddy. Solid plan…"
Chloe froze, jaw dropping. What were they even talking about?
A family drama? Were they sorting out who's the boss like some dorm-room hierarchy?
This wasn't a game studio—it was a soap opera audition.
Didn't they submit resumes? These guys sounded like they came with psych evaluations.
Chloe took two steps back, double-checking the sign: Game Director's Office - WindyPeak Games Inc. Yep, right place. Not a psych ward.
She lowered her hand, listening to the absurd "who's the dad" debate, her face a mix of exhaustion and despair.
Forget it. Let them have their weird bonding session. What if she walked in and got dragged into it?
The company's important, but her sanity was worth more.
Chloe nodded to herself. Best to steer clear. Crazy might be contagious.
…
"…So we're going with Who's the Daddy."
Inside the office, after a heated back-and-forth, Gus, Luke Bennett, and Jake Rivers settled on the game's name: Who's the Daddy. It nailed the chaotic gameplay and was sure to crack up anyone who played it.
"Luke, you're on the main program," Gus said. "Pick the engine. Doesn't need to be fancy—basic is better."
"Got it," Luke nodded, then smirked. "But why entry-level? Didn't Zoey say to spend big? The more expensive, the better?"
"High-end engines make the game look too good," Gus said. "You saw the project plan. This game's all about being weird and rough around the edges. A slick engine with auto-rendering kills the vibe."
"Oh… right," Luke said, scratching his head. He didn't get why Gus wanted a low-rent aesthetic, but the boss called the shots.
"Jake," Gus turned to him, "keep the modeling as basic as possible. Think bad—like, laughably bad."
"Like those viral videos online? 'Titanic, but I made it after a week in art class'?" Jake asked.
"Exactly," Gus said. "That's the style."
Jake winced. "Gus, I can do polished models no problem, but that kind of messy…"
It was like asking a chef to burn a dish on purpose—way harder than it sounded.
"Study the worst," Gus said, waving a hand. "Find some kid who flunked their final art project and figure out how they tanked it."
"Oh, and Jake," Gus added, "skip collision detection."
"No… collision detection?" Jake blinked. "But without it, the models will clip through each other. It'll be a mess."
"That's the point," Gus said, grinning at both. "Clipping bugs, wonky collisions, janky proportions—any non-crashing bug you can think of, I want it. Got it?"
Luke and Jake exchanged a look, shrugged. "Kinda weird, but we're on it."
"Good," Gus said. "I'll take the heat if it goes south."
"Music to my ears!" Luke laughed, and Jake nodded, pumped. If Gus was taking the blame, they could go wild.
Let's make it gloriously bad.
…
Two weeks flew by.
Friday night, 7 p.m. WindyPeak didn't do overtime, but tonight was special—the game was done.
As game director, Gus had to lead his team in a project wrap-up and demo for Zoey. If it checked out, they'd set a launch date.
Gus, Luke, and Jake arrived early, setting up in the conference room.
"Gus, you sure this dumpster fire of a game's gonna fly?" Jake asked, eyeing the flimsy art plan—barely a few pages.
"Doubt it," Luke said, fiddling with the projector. "Most games avoid bugs like the plague. Us? We're adding them."
"You guys don't get it," Gus said, smirking. "Those aren't bugs—they're features. You're just not seeing the big picture."
"Big picture?" Luke snorted, plugging in the projector. "This game's a trainwreck, not a masterpiece."
Just then, the conference room door opened. Zoey Parker bounced in, Chloe trailing behind, looking like she'd rather be anywhere else.
Zoey was hyped. She'd seen Gus's design doc—a chaotic mess of postmodern nonsense. She couldn't wait to see how bad this game turned out.
After quick hellos, Gus stepped to the projector and looked at Zoey. "Ready to start, Ms. Parker?"
"Go for it, Gus," Zoey said, nodding eagerly.
"Straight to it, then," Gus said. "The game's called Who's the Daddy. Took 18 days to develop, cost about $100,000. That's $28,000 for staff salaries, $25,000 for the engine, and $50,000 for sound effects, UI, and art. Priced at $5, it's a role-playing puzzle game, set to launch tomorrow at 8 p.m."