Gamers and Gods: AES
Page 78
Once more child Farker to the Dark Tower went. He knocked on Max's door, setting his jaw, going for the determined idealist look.
“Enter,” said Maximilian.
Farker closed the door behind him and took a seat. “What do you need?” he asked,
“What we need is to talk about is this Darla project.”
“Darla isn't a project, Max, she's a subscriber.”
“Whatever. Since when do customers show up on my budget?”
“When they help save our asses from a class action wrongful death suit. I think we owe her. Don't you?”
“I thought that was the doing of that Aes anomaly.”
“Yes, but she helped us convince him to do it.”
Max tapped ashes off the end of his cigar. “Whatever. The point is, what are all these new allocation requests? Did we start developing a game I don't know about?”
“It's related,” Farker said. “You remember my suggestion about the VTI? Obviously that would require us to allocate some system resources. We're currently able to support 96 Realms but we are only occupying 64 of these, so we have 32 unused ones. I've suggested we use one for the VTI.”
“VTI?”
Farker closed his eyes. He opened them. “The Virtual Trauma Initiative,” he said. “As you recall, I proposed that we create a Realm to treat anyone who feels traumatized by anything in the Games. I thought this might prevent some of Am-heh's victims from suing us, and it might also prevent potential lawsuits in the future. It will require a little money, but we have the infrastructure to support it in the the unused Realms so – ”
“It'll require 'a little' money? Famous last words. Hold that thought.” Max put his cigar in the ashtray and tapped a button. “Helen? Did you send me that file I asked for?”
“Should be in your inbox now. Did you check it?”
Max didn't bother to answer. Instead, he tapped his keyboard. “Ah,” he grunted. “Here it is. Your budget figures for the VTI startup.”
Farker watched him read, amazed to see Max could do it without moving his lips. He wondered what excuse Max would use for rejecting the proposal. The costs were minimal since, after all, no real-world equipment would be needed. Every bit of the proposed facility would be created in the computer. There was no real estate to purchase or construction crews to hire.
Max looked up finally, his eyes narrowed. “Just what are you trying to pull, Farker?”
Farker was taken aback. “Huh? What's the problem?”
“You thought I'd just accept this at first glance?”
Farker stared at him. “Those figures aren't padded.”
“Exactly,” Max grunted. “Rookie mistake. Everything costs more than expected. If I approved this, you'd be back in a month or two for more money.”
“Look.” Farker began, “I assumed that you'd want – “
“Yes,” sighed Max. “You assumed. Let a professional show you how it's done. First off, there's nothing allocated for publicity. This won't earn us any good will if no one hears about it. Then there's the salaries,” he continued. “You're not going to get anyone famous for those figures. When the press release goes out, you need names on it that won't sound second-rate. It's a waste of press if we use nobodies.”
Farker realized suddenly that his mouth was open. He closed it and listened. Maybe there actually was a reason PanGames had put Max in the CEO's office.
“And you left out offices,” Max pointed out. “You're suggesting we use professionals who log in from their own link beds, probably to save me some money. It won't fly. We need them right here in the building.”
“Why?” Shut your pie hole and let him talk the numbers up, Farker!
“For one thing, it looks more fly-by-night if they think we're farming this out to save office space. That's the sort of thing that creates rumors of money problems. Are you trying to drive our stock price down and set us up for a hostile takeover? There's at least three other gaming companies who'd like to buy us rather than compete.”
Farker, to his amazement, found the beginnings of respect creeping into his image of Max. He hadn't even considered economic impacts when he drew up the proposal. “You're right,” he confessed. “I didn't stop to think what it might do to my stock options.”
“That's why suits like me have jobs,” Max told him, smiling. “Look, Farker, it's not a bad idea, and handled right, it'll make us look good. But you have to change the name. Virtual Trauma Initiative? Legal will hate that name, it's got lawsuit written all over it. It'll sound like we expected people to get hurt if someone says that name in court.”
“Well, not physically hurt, but emotionally,” Farker countered. “We both know there are higher-level bullies who pick on the noobs in the Arenas, and so on.”
“Another thing you left out. Feedback. If someone comes to you crying about a feature in the game that could be changed, there has to be a channel for that, between whatever we call this and your programmers. Not Customer Service, people hate it and we only have it because it would look strange if we didn't have a Customer Service department.” He picked up his cigar and puffed on it. “Sounds like we already have an item for you, those Arena matches. You need to fix that up so there's less chance of abuse.”
Chapter 2: Darla: maternity leave