Dan's Explosive Interview

Susie curving her left brow and curled one corner of her mouth. It was a unique expression that Dan knew well; information technology had purloined about three months of married life-time for him to crack it. The construction meant Susie disapproved of something he did, simply was too nice to mention it instantly.

Susie tightened Dan's purple-and-blue-striped tie. "You sure you want to go with this unrivalled?"

"Yeah. Why non?"

"Well …"

"It's lucky," Dan said.

Susie smiled. "Fine."

Luck was something Dan needed a pot today: He was going in for his final interview for a Senior Designer position at the legendary games studio, Explosive.

"How do you feel?"

Already he was nervous; in a bare few hours, he'd be in the hot buttocks. He had worked in the industry since he had finished college, but e'er for fairly small development studios. Nothing similar Explosive. Explosive was indefinite of the biggest dogs on the choke up.

Dan set down along a brave face. "I'm passing to nail it," he said.

Susie smiled and her cute dimples appeared, assuaging Dan's nervousness some small just noticeable sum.

He took a final glance in the priv mirror, took his pelage, took same much little kiss from Susie and oriented off to fill his lot.

***

Driving down the I-280, Dan's brain was a mess of thoughts. Bills (hydro, medical examination therapy for his bum back, a hymeneals gift for his friend Bill). His last job (Enterprise Studios. Company went bankrupt afterwards cathartic an unmitigated chalk whole slew of an MMORPG that had more bugs than Master of Orion Triad). His Toyota Tercel (needs a new transmission).

His future.

"Oh boy," Dan said to his Toyota.

He had too a good deal riding on this interview. Getting this task was it; it was everything. The foundation of his plans – his creation even. If he succeeded at his final audience, everything would be fine. If not – easily, Dan realized as he navigated an onramp, he would be quite simply, irrevocably and completely, royally screwed.

***

"Considerably, that just about sums IT up," Cindy Sanders, Executive Producer, said in her high-pitched, pixie-like voice.

"Truly? That's it?" Dan asked reflexively. His grip of the armrests of his chair tightened, and his mouth matte a bit dry. It was nigh over!

"Thither is just one more thing, Dan," Cindy said, leaning over the desk a little.

"Oh?" Dan exhaled half a lungful of air. "One Thomas More affair?" he asked.

The interview – so far – had gone exceptionally symptomless, Dan thought. Every question Cindy Sanders set up, Dan handled smoothly, responding with an astute comment here, a candid, someone-effacing admission there all delivered with an unrehearsed, natural-hearable (but decidedly fake) assuredness. At a lower place a thick layer of nervousness in some dusty quoin of his psyche, Dan even felt the twinges and tugs of a newborn nugget of confidence.

At least until that "one more thing" popped up.

The phone on Cindy's desk beeped. She picked it up. "OK," she said into the recipient.

The door behind Dan swung unprotected – he heard it slam against the office surround. Dan turned in his chair. A lumbering giant of a man, cheeks ruddy and red, took cardinal astronomic steps toward Dan's butt and elongated a mountainous, substantive handwriting-mit. Dan took it and shook it.

The face seemed familiar to him. The side part with the extensively receding hairline. The bushy eyebrows. The hook nose. The Dumbo ears, the missing cervix, the baby-faced expression! "Le-Elmore John Leonard Housley?" Dan stuttered and almost, someway, slipped out of his chair and onto the ground.

"The one and the same," the large man responded, subsequently negotiating his bulk carefully into a normal-manful chair. He held a Shirley Temple, leather-bound portfolio in one of his workforce. Dan immediately constituted it – IT was his resumé. "Indeed, you recognize me. That's a good enough start," he said brusquely, with non much every bit a trace of humor.

Dan forced a laugh softly. "Recognize you! Get me suppose it is an honor to se you, Mister. Housley-"

"Dutch Leonard," Leonard same, thumbing through documents in Dan's portfolio.

"Dutch Leonard, yes," Dan continued. "What self-respecting game designer wouldn't know a man of your, uh stature." Dan coughed..

Leonard's head rose from the portfolio, heraldic bearing an utterly blank verbalism. "Well, thanks, Mr Mount Rushmore." His head lowered again, appraising another one of Dan's documents. "I guess," he mumbled.

"You can call me Dan," Dan said, in a desperate assay to rift the quieten – at that particular moment, the power seemed quieter than satellite space.

Cindy wasn't saying anything. When Leonard burst into the office she was smiling, enjoying Dan's surprise. Now she wasn't smiling in the least. In fact, Dan considered her facial expression to be somewhere between a scowl and a smirk.

"I- I, can't believe you are here," Dan aforementioned. "You sir, are one of the reasons I got into gage design." The shock was only immediately subsiding. "Honestly, wow … unbelievable. And so Detonative snagged you from Nothing Studios for Project Gorgon, eh?"

Leonard closed the portfolio, and plunked it onto the desk. "Mister Rushmore," Leonard said with an staccato inflection, "you do know that as you are non an employee of Explosive, that Project Gorgon is …" – Leonard took a second to discovery the right word – "adamantly under N-D-A, and should not be referenced in conversation by anyone not a phallus of this company. Right?"

Dan swallowed. "Yes, sir," was all that he could come up with.

Basketball team seconds passed that seemed like 50. Dan matte Leonard's eyes on him, corresponding they were ho-hum into the very kernel of his soul. "You enjoin you are conversant with my work," Leonard's voice trailed off.

Dan felt timid. He nodded and thought of his next mortgage payment.

Receiving no response, Leonard went on. "Any particular game you are about fond of?"

For the first time in or s time, Dan knew exactly what to say next. "I'm the biggest rooter of Satan you'll in all likelihood ever meet," He said.

"The Tempter – of course, my most famous game," Elmore Leonard said, sounding somewhat unimpressed. Then, straightaway out of leftist branch of knowledg, Leonard asked, "Where do you find the +99 Silver Boots of Topsy-turvyness?"

Nonplussed, Dan replied, "You tail end only if breakthrough them on the secret elk tied. If you kill Super-Zeus, using Grool's Tarred Bone Fragment Mace …" Dan frantically tried to recall his belated-night high school gaming binges. "And information technology only appears if you change your computer's scheme clock to a Monday – in Marching music," he said.

Elmore Leonard's heart's seemed to widen. "So you cheat, then?"

"Uh …" Dan felt sort of weak and light oriented, like his brain wasn't getting enough blood. Equivalent he was, once more, going to founder out of his chair.

"That was a antic, by the bye," Leonard said.

Thank God, Dan thought. "Aw – heh, heh – yes," he aforesaid, readjusting his tie beam subsequently producing a weak, unfortunate example of a good-natured chuckle.

If there was any levity introduced past Leonard's little joke, IT quickly evaporated. Dan still felt like his entire body could spontaneously combust into a thunderous, Dominicus-hot blazing raise, burning furiously on the fuel of what was, alone moments before, his hopes and dreams for the future.

"Next question mister Mount Rushmore, before we eat up up," Dutch Leonard said.

Last skyward? Leonard could only nod.

"Actually, staying on Satan for a moment, I'm curious: Did you finish the game?"

"Sure – destined I did. Of course of study," Dan said, shuffling in his seat.

"On what trouble level?"

No hesitation: "Explicit modality," Dan same. "Connected incubus difficulty," he added permanently measure.

Scarcely for the slightest moment – few microseconds, perchance – Dan saw something other than indifference diffuse onto his idol's typeface. All but a grinning. But it faded fast, replaced by Leonard's usual uncommunicative, granitic look on.

"Hardcore nightmare mode," Leonard said. "Explicit nightmare Satan is tough to beat. You know, I had to practically squirm my project manager to keep that fashion in the game. He thought process it was a thriftlessness of man-hours."

"What a jerk!" Dan blurted outgoing, partly trying for humor, part because it was the first thing that sprung into mind.

Another minute of silence transpired atomic number 3 Leonard sat there, unresponsive, while Dan's mind amused dreadful, pitiful notions.

"Even I had a hard time beating the game on that setting," Leonard said, hunching over the desk. "Our budget was so small I actually had to play-test that setting, because none of our sestet game testers were upwardly to the job."

"Didn't the testers scarcely, uh, use debugging tools – like health cheats operating theater whatnot," Dan asked, intrigued despite himself.

Slowly shaking his head, Leonard said, "I get into't let gage testers utilize cheats. Screws aweigh their sense of game balance."

Dan nodded. "Ah, right, of course-"

"So, onto the gravid question," Leonard interrupted. "What classes did you use in your hardcore nightmare musical mode party?"

"Oh, geez," Dan said. That was easy: He flashed hindmost to when he was 17, back before he even had net access at family, nerve-racking his best to bewilder the game. Satan was an action roleplaying game where you controlled a party of four adventures. Each adventurer could beryllium one of six classes. Picking the right combination was vital. Back and then, he mustiness have time-tested 40 combinations of classes before determination the one combo that got him – finally – to the special, nightmare-hardcore closing credits of the game: "Ranger, ranger, rogue, cleric."

Leonard's large mouth fell open a trifle. "Ranger, ranger, rogue, divine? Is that what you aforementioned?" He looked either appalled Beaver State upset – Dan couldn't tell which.

"Uh, yeah," Dan said, so affected away Dutch Leonard's response that he even doubted it himself.

"Ranger-forest fire fighter-rogue-cleric!" Leonard's hands came risen in a flurry of strange, spasmatic gesticulations. He yelped: "That's the most ludicrous thing I've ever heard in my biography!"

Bloodline rushed to Dan's face. All hopes of landing the job were dotted. "Oh – oh really … why's that – uh, if you don't idea ME asking …"

"Ranger-ranger-rogue-divine!" Leonard was shakiness his forefront like he had just stumbled upon his long-bemused Logos shooting up heroin in an alley. "Can you believe that, Cindy?" He looked at Cindy.

"I can't trust it," she said.

"You can't possibly be persuasive me that you didn't expend any mages. A maxed-unstylish array of poison-haze over'ed big-synergic mana-leeching fireballs is the exclusive way you can deliver enough DPS to take out hardcore nightmare Satan-"

"But-" Dan tried to sneak a word in.

"-even with foursome Grool's Tarred Grind away Fragment Maces!" Elmore Leonard continued. "You need a mage," Dutch Leonard aforesaid. "You need a mage," he repeated.

"String up on a second." Dan could feel the wrath swelling within him. This was undignified. Problem operating theater zero job, game blueprint idol surgery non, helium'd represent damnably if he was going to let this guy severalize him he didn't spend 200 hours of his adolescent life beating loyal incubus Satan with a ranger, a commando, a rogue and a cleric. "You don't need a mage!"

"You need a mage," Elmore Leonard reaffirmed.

"You get into't involve a mage," Dan aforesaid.

"Look back, you need a mage."

"But-"

"I designed Satan. I'm telling you: You can't behave it without a mage. Non possible."

Dan couldn't subscribe to it any longer: "You assume't need a Goddamned mage!" He got out of his chair. "Cindy, may I?" Dan said, motioning to her computer. Before ready for a reply, Dan rotated her monitor and keyboard around and typed a lengthy and complicated URL into a browser. Elmore John Leonard and Cindy stared on. "Look!" Dan exclaimed.

Displayed on the monitor was a forum thread – an epically long forum thread, spanning 44 pages connected Sudden's very own Satan forums. The thread was entitled "Wherefore you really don't need a frickin' mage for nightmare!" Time after time, argument afterward argument, motor-assisted by arcane formulas and illustrated with flowcharts (and the occasional captioned image of cat in an unlikely baffle), a desperate forum-warrior by the figure of Lanco44Justice served counter-points to all Satan lover's insistent point that you do, in fact, need a mage to kill hardcore nightmare Prince of Darkness.

"Let me see this," Leonard said, his eyes scanning the numerous pages. "Uh-huh, hum …"

Though most of Lanco44Justice's arguments had no recourse, there was, near the very end of the ribbon, same busy poster named CaptainSoufllé who argued with so much wildnes and fervid disdain that the train of thought had descended into sarcastic flame up-state of war – totally the way to Lanco44Justice's closing post, which exclaimed, in extra-ample, blue and bold letters, "LOL dood if you still think you motive a mage you are denser than an freaking iron golem's turd."

Information technology dawned connected Dan, observation Leonard make a face equally he read that last line about the automaton turd, who was really sitting across from him. Information technology could cost no other: Leonard was CaptainSoufllé!

"You," Elmore Leonard same, his voice a number tired, a sour expression on his face, "are Lanco44Justice?"

All Dan could do was nod.

"If you actually are Lanco44," Leonard continuing, his voice weary, "past shew it to me."

"What?" Dan was taken aback.

"You know," Leonard said, sounding defeated, "what you said on page 39 …"

"No – no," Dan felt his heart skip a rhythm again. "You can't be dangerous."

"I receive to live." Leonard for certain sounded quite difficult.

"Seriously?" Dan asked once more.

"Seriously."

"Alright, so – you asked for it." Dan off around and started to unbuckle his belt.

"Cindy, look away!" Leonard blurted.

Dan have his belt fall to the floor.

"Right look up away, Cindy!" Leonard again screeched out behind Dan's back.

With one speedy motion, Dan pulled down the top of his drawers and wide Edward White underwear, uncovering his left butt cheek. Simply it was no ordinary cheek! On half of Dan's ass, rendered magnificent and tawdrily in cheap (yet woefully permanent) ink, was a droopy and somewhat overall tableau of two elves with bows, a priest in a vest and a dwarf with 2 daggers, standing concluded the bloodied and decapitated head up of what could only be, certainly and without question, nightmare hardcore Satan.

As Dan stood, uncovered, atomic number 2 knew in conclusion – without having to attend the expression happening his chee – that he had got the better of CaptainSoufllé. After every last, the proof was on his ass.

"Hire him," Dan distinctly heard Leonard order behind him.

A massive wave of elation hit Dan, stunning him. He got it! Halting Designer at Explosive! After all this!

"I'll hire him only later on he pulls up his pants," Cindy said.

Kevin Spiess is a freelance contributor to The Escapist.

https://www.escapistmagazine.com/dans-explosive-interview/

Source: https://www.escapistmagazine.com/dans-explosive-interview/

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