WICKED GAMES | COMPLETE

FOUR

Miles

"𝙿𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚎𝚛 𝙾𝚗𝚎. 𝙴𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎."

The console beeped to life as Miles hit play. The screen burst into a cacophony of pixelated patterns, with his character wielding a bloodied bat in the centre.

"So..." Miles drawled. "You play as a serial killer in a summer camp."

The game developer, a lean man who looked a couple years younger than Miles, nodded his head eagerly and grinned widely.

"And... it's all in 8-bit pixels."

The younger man nodded his head even more fervently. "It's like Mario," he gushed.

Miles stared skeptically as he sent the character running across the mosaic screen, swinging the bat at every other moving pixel. Their heads popped into fireworks of red, but on the pixelated screen, it just looked like vaguely exploding tomatoes.

"That's it?" He tried batting at a character's legs, but for some reason, only the head burst into red. "Where's the story? Where's the thrill?"

"The nostalgia is the thrill," said the game dev, eager to convince Miles.

"It's cheap nostalgia." Miles raised an eyebrow, thrust the controller back to its dejected owner and walked away. The game unceremoniously wailed a tune of the player dying.

Ever since the kerfuffle at GreatGames Con with Carly last month, things had been quieter for Miles. The flashing cameras and screaming fans were replaced with overbearing investors pestering him for the next big hit. The team was spending countless nights perched before their glowing screens, laying out lines of code and layers of textures until their eyes crossed.

Miles decided it was enough. GamersUnite was just going to be him and Liam building hype and pulling in new talent, but he pulled his strings and carted the team off with them for the break they sorely needed.

What he wasn't banking on was how uninspiring this year's event was.

"Ugh, this is the fuckin' worst." Liam Parsons, chief animator for Mad Labs and Miles' best friend, took a swig of coffee as they strolled through the exhibition hall. He ran his fingers through his dirty blonde hair. Liam was a talented worker who went hard and fast, but he was what some people might affectionately call a jackass.

"Tell me about it. None of these games are worth a second look," Miles muttered. He was hoping inspiration would hit the team during the event, but all that hit them so far was the smell of stale pizza and the stench of unwashed nerd.

"God, forget bath bombs. Chuck these chodes a fuckin' bath torpedo," Liam snarked and rolled his auburn eyes.

"We can take a trip down to Lush later, get you some minty face masks while we're at it."

"Shove off mate." He clocked Miles in the shoulder.

Miles smirked and mused over his memories. Most people were introduced with a smile and a handshake, but Liam had chosen a rather unorthodox greeting five years ago – splashing a hot flood of coffee onto Miles' shirt.

In ordinary circumstances Miles would have gotten mad, but the happy accident gave him the perfect excuse to pry away from a rather intimidating cosplayer who had been stalking him through the halls.

Liam had cursed up a storm and offered the shirt off his own back, and that was the first time Miles understood why this animated man became an animator. He hauled Liam from his dead-end job with an enticing proposal – split his rent in exchange for a room and a business partner.

The next few years were spent slogging and saving for the eventual birth of Mad Labs.

Miles pulled his focus back when he heard the clatter of Liam's coffee cup in the bin. His friend waved at him and walked away.

"I'm heading back to the booth. Don't follow me."

He's probably sneaking off to the Lush next door, Miles chuckled to himself and decided to continue into the next section of the exhibition.

Who knew – he might very well be surprised.

A/N: We're going through some shorter chapters now, before hitting the main meat of the story ;)