djava

Imagine being a kid and falling in love with games, then you slowly figure out how to make games, then you put together some shitty games, but each one gets better. Then you keep learning about how to make games and fit it all together. Eventually, you get hired by BioWare and EA. It's big time.

But it's also a desperate time. EA really wants BioWare to deliver with Anthem. The recent games from the company have been shaky to say the least, but this is something new and different for BioWare. Millions and millions of dollars have been dumped into the project, people are already working overtime. You spend 23.5 hours a day in front of a computer screen, away from your family, with EA and hipster BioWare xirs looking over your shoulder.

You are trying to polish this turd and times running out, everyone is panicking. IT NEEDS TO WORK. IT NEEDS TO SELL.

An email pops into your inbox. Free pizza in the largest meeting room. Everyone runs in and they're told the pizza is running just a little bit late. The minutes past. Where is the delivery boys? Everyone one is sitting, relaxed by being away from their keyboards that track keystrokes, when the doors slam shut. Loud chains rattle on the outside handles as multiple locks bind them.

The lights dim. Eardrums are rattled by shrill sirens, that drop the BioWare nerds to the floor, unable to flee. A spotlight hits the front of the meeting room.

A godawful voice breaks through the sirens and makes them silent.

"Listen, you white male shits."

Your eyes slowly adjust.

Your heart sinks.

You realize that your love of gaming has brought you here to your doom.