PART EIGHT

So far, we had two rooms. The first I was thinking of as 'the arcade' and the second was 'the destruction derby'. Technically, there was a third room. The core room.

Now, if you meet a banker and get them talking they'll quickly start telling you about 'profit centers' and 'cost centers'. What it means is there's a guy in a gray suit who goes to fancy lunches with crypto-billionaires and sells them triple-A investments. Gray-suit guys are paid millions because at the end of the year they can say 'boss, bro, I brought you 3 billion dollars of net new assets'. Then there are the guys who run the computer systems, or make sure the ATMs are full of cash, or just answer the phone when you've sent all your money to your niece via Western Union and she isn’t replying to your emails. These guys can't say how much money they brought into the bank, so the bank hates and despises them. Think about how sick it is to describe your customer service staff as a 'cost center!' Like all they do is drain money!

Oooooh, Billy-Bob, breathe. Breeeaaaathe. Hommmmm.

So... it sucks to say, but I was doing the same thing. My arcade and my destruction derby were bringing in mana points. The dungeon core was NOT. But get this, if one little dwarf with a big hammer got in and started smashing, then it was game over.

At this point in the story, I still didn't really understand how precarious my new business was. I was mad about expanding. In this case, expanding to a new demographic.

Adult Material

I did another wireframe session with 386. He was REALLY snippy about it. I thought we'd made some progress as a team, but he really didn't like change and didn't like what he thought was a new direction. I was in a bad mood that day because of stuff in my private life, so I got a bit snippy and was a little bit of a pink.

But look, we got the design finalised.

***

The kids came back. This time there were only 4, but they were enthusiastic and crowing about how their absent friends were doing something lame. They immediately saw the new room. The entrance was opposite the arcade. They went in, tried to play with the new trap, gave up, and played with the Ski Ball and Spider Smash games for a bit. They half-heartedly smashed some glass they'd brought, then ran off home.

A total bust?

Not at all.

They came back with an older brother, or a cousin, or some such. This dude was an apprentice and had some coin in his pocket. Predictably, he started off being all 'uhh dungeons are bad what the fun are you doing here?' But the kids insisted, and showed him the arcade. His distrust dissipated, and soon he was having a lovely old time. He LOVED Spider Smash.

"Danny, enough," they cried. "We need you to look in the other room."

Eventually, they dragged him into the new area. It was a 4x2 space containing a single game. Danny the apprentice stared at it with growing lust.

"What's this?" he said, in a deep whisper.

"It's a game, but we don't know how to play. You need money for this one."

"Money?"

"There's three holes up here."

"Slots," said Danny.

"Three slots. I think you put a coin in one of the holes and then it falls down and comes out here in the main area."

Danny followed their reasoning. It seemed sound. "But why?"

"That's what we don't really understand. But lend me a bit so I can try." Bits were the lowest currency denomination in the BetterVerse.

"No way. Your dad would batter me." He leered at the display in front of him. "Maybe I should check it out. See if it's safe and whatnot."

"Aww."

Danny pressed his face to the glass for quite a long time. Then he stuck his hand down his trousers and pulled out some coins. He picked out a bit, chose one of the three slots, and popped it in.

The coin slid down two diagonal tracks, and emerged onto a shelf that was also full of bits. The shelf was slowly retracting in and out, and when it pushed out, the bit caused three coins that were near the edge to fall onto a lower shelf. That shelf sucked itself in, and when it moved out again, the coins were oh-so-close to toppling down into a hole that Danny would be able to access.

"Argh!" he said. He studied the mechanism for a while. "I've got it. If I wait till it's all the way in and drop the bit, it'll push those four over to the lower shelf. See? Right?" He watched it go in and out, in and out, and then he struck. The coin fell, and - incredible elation! - the four coins DID fall, but on the lower shelf they just sort of pushed each other sideways.

"Argh!" he said again. And he studied it for a long, long while.

Finally, he put in another bit. The shelves pushed against the coins, the coins pushed against each other, and with eyes wider than French bread Danny watched as two coins found they had no support. They fell into the hole.

Clang! Clang!

Danny lifted a little glass flap and took his prize. He skipped and danced around the room, deliriously happy.

"To the pub! Drinks are on me!" he said to his 10-year old nephews, and they bounced away.

***

"When will he realise he spent 3 bits to win 2 bits?"

"He might not."

"Humans are not smart."

"We're good at some things. There's more to life than math." I started to think about what else we needed to discuss. "Wait a minute. What do you mean, humans are not smart? That guy's an AI, the same as you."

"Oh, right," said 386. "I forgot."

"Yeah," I said. It was easy to forget. I thought about real humans and real human problems. "Bro, can you arrange it so that people don't lose too much money on whatever games we come up with? We want to leech mana from them, not drain their pockets."

"I shall create a payout algorithm of such delicacy and beauty that it will shake the universe!"