CulturalGeekGirl wrote...
On a clear, moonless night, Mac Walters found himself walking down an unlit country back road. If you had asked him, he couldn't have told you how he got there, or where he was going. Somehow, he knew it was time to stop when he reached the crossroads. After a moment, a man appeared in the darkness, though it was impossible to tell whether he had materialized, or simply walked. The man was charming, slick, and fashionable, with eyes like banked coals.
"Hey, Mac. I'm here to offer you a deal. Do you want to write one of the best games ever made, win an incredible number of Game of the Year awards, and get paid to take a leadership role in something you love?"
"Of course I do; I'm guessing that's why I came here. What do you want, my soul?"
"No, no. We don't do it that way anymore," the charming man said. "Here is the required payment: no matter what you do, no one will ever give you any credit. There will always be a contingent of fanboys convinced that you are the worst thing to ever happen to their favorite game. Now, sign here and it'll be... official."
"I think I'd just rather do the soul thing, honestly..."
I laughed, hard. You're a savant Cultural.





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