#I don't even think having her have beef with him is necessarily a bad choice | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pretty-setter-bois · 3 years

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elephant in the banquet hall

request; please do a continuation of this!! i love it!! 😭

summary; the long-awaited prequel to elephant in the room — how a small interaction in hong kong led to an awkward tension, which might even lead to something more.

word count; 3343™

warnings; none, just a bit suggestive, an almost-car accident.

sequel

“I’M BACK NOW.” haru announces, subconsciously tugging at his collar.

“welcome back.” kamei greets, barely looking up from his screen.

“welcome back! how was hong kong? you ate a lot of yummy food, right?” saeki interrogates.

he pauses for a second, blushing a little. “n-not so much...” he hands over a bag of mooncakes. “here's a gift for you guys.”

“wow! these mooncakes look so tasty! let's all have some!” saeki beams, taking them out of the bag. “huh? it's already open.

“sorry, i ate one as my share.” he apologizes, his tone anything but.

“you're so greedy. you ate a ton of delicious food, and on top of that you snacked on our gift?” kamei looks up to glare at him.

“i'm telling you, i didn't get to eat any good food.” haru sighs.

“but wasn't there a party at some fancy hotel after the symposium?”

“yeah, there was a party, but...”

KATO WALKS UP to you and daisuke, a plate in his hands. “i'm starving... i finally managed to get two slices of the roast beef... i usually don't get to eat expensive cuts like this.” he eyes his food, earning a small chuckle from you as you eye your own plate. “huh? aren't you going to eat?” he turns to daisuke.

“no.” daisuke deadpans.

“what's wrong with you? here, i'll give you a slice. i waited in line for 10 minutes for this, so eat it with care.” he puts a piece on daisuke’s plate.

the black-haired man is reluctant, but takes a bite nonetheless. he immediately places his fork down, patting his mouth down with a napkin.

“this is so tough it's inedible. the quality of the meat is bad, and it's overcooked.” he begins to complain.

“what? stop complaining and eat.” haru furrows his eyebrows, something he did a lot around the millionaire. “someday, you're going to get what you deserve.”

“i'm heading over to a different restaurant now. do you want to come?” he asks, standing up.

“i’m fine, thank you.” you smile.

“this is plenty good for me, see you later.” haru says, cutting his food.

he walks off, leaving you and haru alone.

“sheesh, he's such a jerk... how do you raise someone to be such a picky eater?” haru rambles, and you laugh again.

“don’t get mad at him. why didn’t you go with him, anyway?” you ask.

he turns his head towards you, taking in your appearance. you look stunning — not that you usually don’t — and he forgets that you’ve asked him a question.

“kato?” you ask again.

“oh, uh, i didn’t want this food to go to waste.”

i want to stay with you.

you finish your food, drying your hands on the warm towels the banquet had gifted you with and popping the peppermints they gave you in your mouth. you excuse yourself to the bathroom.

on the other hand, haru is stopped by a man on his way out. “hello? are you from japan?”

“huh? oh...” kato switches languages. “i'm japanese.”

“i would like to ask about the police box system in japan.” the man states.

“in japan...?” haru tilts his head, confused.

"yes, about the police box system.”

"s-sorry...” the taupe-haired man apologizes, unable to comprehend ‘police box system’.

he hears a voice behind him, turning his head to find you.

“oh, the police box system?” you answer in flawless english. “it’s a box-like phone-station, created so that we’re able to reach the police at anytime.”

“ah, really?” answers the man. “i’m from the united states, here’s my card.” he hands you a card. “i’m here on business to research ways to better the police system in america.” (as he should).

“any more questions?” you ask, looking down at his card.

“oh, no. i just wanted to get a vague idea of what they did. thank you.” he grins, and you could’ve sworn he winked, “don’t worry, the number is international.”

“alright, goodbye.” you wave with a smile.

“actually, i do have one question-” the man begins.

“sorry, we have to go.” haru tries to get to the point with the little english he knew.

the man nods warily, leaving to find someone else to speak to. “see you around.”

haru turns around to you, his face solemn. “come on, we have to go.”

“SO THAT’S WHY i didn't get a chance to eat.” haru explains, leaving out the last part.

“i can see why that happened. after all, it was an after party for an international symposium.” saeki nods.

“my english score was like 70 points out of 200 back when i took the national center test for university admissions.” he continues.

“how were you able to even join the metropolitan police department?” kamei squints. “anyways, you're like the most japanese person i know. you’re lucky (L/N) was there to save you.”

“oh yeah!” saeki says. “where is (L/N)-chan anyways?”

“ah...” haru’s mind trails to last night, and he shakes his head. “she called in sick today, said she caught a cold out of nowhere.”

“hm, strange...” kamei places his chin in his hand. “(L/N) usually doesn’t call in sick, even if she does have a cold.”

“maybe she’d really sick, we shouldn’t bother her.” haru tries to redirect the conversation.

“what could get (L/N)-san so sick to the point where she’d have to call in sick?” saeki ponders, and haru coughs to avoid gulping.

“so, did you end up missing your chance to eat?” kamei finally changes the topic.

“no, i didn't have a choice, so i tagged along with kambe to go eat.” haru exhales a sigh of relief.

“oh, so you were able to eat something delicious after all.” kamei nods.

“actually, that’s not really the case...”

“wait, i'm not sure if i understand. you got to eat, or you didn't?”

“i guess you can say i ate something...” he thinks of the mooncake, then trailing off to the thought of you. he lightly shakes his head again.

"the fact that you went to eat with kambe means that you went to a super high-end restaurant, right? how much was it? how was the meal?”

“500,000 yen.”

“you're kidding me!” saeki exclaims. “500,000?! that's way more than my monthly salary!”

“it's more than my salary, too. but... expensive doesn't necessarily mean good...” haru rubs the back of his neck.

THE THREE OF you arrive at a high-end restaurant, one which daisuke seems to be familiar with. you and haru awe at the place, thinking of how expensive it must be.

"what's up with this place... it's so extravagant... but it's empty.” haru notes.

“i reserved the entire restaurant. i eat here often when i'm in hong kong.” daisuke explains.

“i see...” haru nods.

"menu, please.” the waiter greats in cantonese.

although you were better than haru at english, you were considerably clueless when it came to cantonese. he seems to pick up on this.

"thank you.” he thanks the waiter.

he turns to you, giving a brief explanation of the items on the menu and letting you pick.

“i'm starving... i missed out on that roast beef, so i'm craving meat...” he mutters.

“and i missed out on my desert because of you.” you tease jokingly, receiving a sheepish smile from the taupe-haired man.

“there's so many different kinds... meat... meat... meat... here it is. this must be where the meat section starts... let's see... 'pear, piece, with, steam, fruit, small, raccoon dog'... what is this?” he reads the menu aloud to you.

"pear slices with steamed civet.” daisuke answers.

“i can accept the pears... but civets? aren't they similar to raccoon dogs?”

"raccoon dogs are canines, civets are part of the viverridae family. they are completely different species.”

"you're missing the point.” haru says. “fine, i'll pick something else... have you decided, (L/N)?”

“no... i’ve never heard of these food before.” you admit.

"what's this? 'steamed, camel, peak'...” haru reads.

"that's steamed camel hump.” daisuke says.

"pass. let's see... 'boar, brain, temporary, leopard, fetus...”

"that one? you might think that it's stewed leopard fetus, but it's actually pig brains...”

“what the hell do these rich people eat...” you mutter.

"hey! isn't there any normal food here?!” haru yells, seeming to have read your thoughts.

"you sure complain a lot.” daisuke says nonchalantly.

“i'm not complaining! i just want to eat some normal chinese food!”

"this is normal chinese food for me. what do you mean by normal?”

"that would be...” he pauses to think. “for instance, fried rice, potstickers, or congee, you know? like stuff they sell at street food stalls. you don't have to be eating civets or camel humps to have good food!”

daisuke pauses. “a street food stall... i've never been to one...”

“then let's get some street food. the food stalls are cheap and rowdy, and you can always get a taste of the local culture.” haru looks around the restaurant. “what about you, (L/N)?”

“only if you pick what i eat.” you chuckle, earning an eager grin.

“HEUSC, find the best food stall we can get to in one hour.” daisuke presses on his earring.

"understood. balance: unlimited.” HEUSC answers.

the sounds of a helicopter approaching can be heard, waiting for the three detectives to get in.

“so, where are we?” haru asks.

"a food stall.” deadpans daisuke.

"i know that! you just shoved us on to a chopper and took us to an unknown place, so i'm asking you where the hell we are!”

“this is macau. according to HEUSC, the best food stall within an hour's travel was this one located in sam chan dang, macau-”

"so we came to hong kong for nothing!”

"you sure complain a lot.”

haru sighs, cradling his head in his hands. “why can't we just have an ordinary meal...”

you pat his back reassuringly, a bit excited to see what daisuke has in store for the three of you.

“here you go. sorry to make you wait.” the man says in cantonese, serving you your food.

“well... it does look really tasty...” haru admits.

“yeah.” daisuke nods.

"well, we might as well dig in. i'm absolutely starving.” haru picks up his chopsticks.

“hold on!” daisuke interrupts.

“what now?”

“HEUSC mentioned the possibility of a food safety issue at this stall.”

“don't worry about details like that. this is a food stall, so not everything's gonna be perfect-”

"i can't allow that. HEUSC checked the surrounding radius of 10 meters, and found 7 rats and 48 cockroaches-”

"hey! i just lost my appetite!”

“can we go home?” you ask, already tired.

“oh no...” daisuke says, disregarding what you said.

"hey... what is it this time?” haru sighs.

"we're going back to hong kong.” he states

"huh? why?” you ask.

"the store that i was planning to buy souvenirs at closes in 30 minutes.” daisuke says.

"souvenirs? just buy something from a store that's open!” haru states.

"i can't do that.”

“actually, kambe, me and kato won’t bother you. we’ll look for a food stand, and you get your souvenirs. we’ll tell you when find one.”

haru’s a bit surprised by your words, but would rather spend time with you than hopping restaurants with daisuke.

daisuke nods, waving goodbye and hopping in his helicopter. you wave back, deciding to begin your search for a place to eat, haru close behind, of course.

“look! that place looks good!” you point, light on your feet.

you’re so excited that you don’t notice the truck driving on the road until the horn is almost by your ear.

haru grabs you back by the arm, holding you close as your mind tries to register what happened.

“i’m not letting you out of my sight.” he says, just loud enough for you to hear, bur firm.

you nod, quiet. what if haru hadn’t been there? what would’ve happened then?

a soft squeeze to the hand he’s been holding is all you need for reassurance. you wonder when he began to hold it.

he leads the two of you across to the restaurant that you saw, and you reread the sign.

“motel.” you squint. you take a quick glance of the stores open around you, and this one seems to be the only one. “i think everything else is closed. let’s check if they have food.”

the bell by the door jingles at your entrance, and the secretary at the desk turns to face you.

“hello, we were wondering if there was anywhere we could eat?” you ask.

“the buffet is open for about an hour, but only for the people who have rooms registered.” she answers.

you nod, and watch haru look down at his phone.

“kambe isn’t gonna be here for a while.” he informs you.

“we’ll get a room.” you nod.

she turns around to get the paperwork ready, and haru’s eyes widen.

“what do you mean? we have to leave tomorrow!” he whispers.

“don’t worry,” you assure him. “we’ll sign out early in the morning.”

the secretary turns around and hands you a piece of paper to fill out, to which you finish quickly and hand back to her.

“here’s your bill.” she states.

you’re relieved that it isn’t expensive, as you haven’t brought much money with you in the first place.

“um, excuse me?” you call.

“yeah?” she answers.

“this says single, we asked for a double.” you point to the paper.

haru has to gulp to avoid showing his embarrassment.

“sorry, but we only have one-bed rooms available.” she explains. “it doesn’t seem to be a problem between the two of you, though.”

your faces get red, and you quickly pay. the two of you awkwardly scurry off to the buffet, which you have previously been told is free.

you eat your meals in silence, ‘itadkimasu’ and occasional questions with one-word answers asked, but nothing else.

a ringing phone is what finally snaps the two of you out of it, and you look up to see that it’s haru’s.

“huh?! what do you mean you followed him home?! you don’t have enough space for us?! another flight?!” haru almost yells into his phone, before the other line beeps. “ugh.”

“what happened?” you ask.

“ah...” he nervously rubs at his neck. “daisuke bought too many souvenirs, and there was no place for us to fit.”

“the flight is supposed to be...” you look down at your watch. “right now!”

“yeah, he got us another.”

“when?”

“tomorrow...”

you nod, realizing that you would actually need to stay at the motel.

“it’s a good thing we made early reservations then...”

“yeah...”

THE TWO OF you enter the reserved room, deciding to might as well get comfortable.

“hey, kato?” you ask. “i’m going to shower, can you look for a futon or something like that?”

he nods, leaving you to the bathroom and him to his thoughts.

the bathroom didn’t have any shampoo or conditioner, just a soap dispenser that serves as a reminder as to why you don’t like hotels.

you dry yourself off, placing on your previous clothes and cursing your past self for wearing something to uncomfortable.

you step out of the bathroom, a towel around your neck as you dry your hair. he notices you and instantly gets up, looking at you in worry.

“i... couldn’t find a futon...”

“it’s fine.” you sigh, placing the towel on a rack. “we’re adults, right?”

he nods, trying to make his gulp unnoticeable.

both your shoes had been placed by the door, and your jacket hung by his on a chair. his tie was on the bedside table, and only then had you noticed that the first few buttons of his shirt were open.

your backs were against each other, trying to get comfortable on the bed with a small pillow in-between you as a divider.

“hey, kato?” you call out. “sorry for getting you into this mess. we could’ve stuck with daisuke instead, but...”

“it’s fine.” he answers. “though, i don’t think i’ll be able to get any sleep tonight.”

“me either.”

the two of you turn to face each other, moving the pillow out of the way. you haven’t noticed the close proximity between you until his hot breath meets yours.

until you look at how his eyes darken, how good his hair looks messy, and confirm that his top buttons are indeed open.

it starts with a small kiss, really. are his lips as soft as they look? that’s all you want to confirm, and confirm you do.

you don’t remember how his shirt ends up on the floor, or how your dress is unzipped. what you do remember, is that it is the best night’s sleep you’ve gotten in a long time.

YOU WOKE UP the next morning with a headache and a few hours of sleep, his phone buzzing on the table beside you.

he reaches to grab it, answering the call with a deep tone. “yeah, we’ll be there.” the call ends soon after. “it’s time to go.”

“i want to sleep.” you mumble.

“you can sleep on the plane.” he helps you up. “come on.”

the two of you get ready for your flight back to japan, and sign out at the front desk of the motel. you make sure to zip up your jacket all the way.

you arrive at the airport, and shortly board the plane after. you try to fall asleep, but the turbulence and noise make it hard to do so.

your headache has gotten worse, and you make a mental note to never shower before bed again.

daisuke greets you both in japan, dropping you off at haru’s home after one look at your condition. you’re far too tired to argue, and head to bed the moment you make it there.

“THE FACT THAT we have mooncakes here means that he really made the chef make some...” saeki notes.

"yeah, he got ahold of the chef just as he got home. apparently, he made the chef return to the shop immediately to make some mooncakes right in front of his eyes.” haru explains.

“what do you mean? weren’t you there?” kamei asks.

“ah, i went to grab... dinner with (L/N).” haru sweats.

“that must have annoyed the chef,” kamei thinks. “bringing him back to the restaurant to cook, i mean.”

"but actually... you can't quite say that.”

"why? no matter how you look at it, what he did was out of line.”

“kambe bought the mooncakes for 5 million yen per box.”

"how many boxes did he buy?” saeki questions.

"this one, and the one box for his grandmother.” kato sighs.

“in other words, 10 million yen for two boxes of mooncakes... let's see, so there's 10 pieces in each box. so each piece is 500,000 yen...” kamei concludes.

"oh! so that means your dinner last night was...” saeki thinks.

"besides the food i ate with (L/N), it was this mooncake. i ate one on the flight back.” haru stands up. “i have to get her her mooncake, i was just stopping by to make sure everyone had one.”

“give her our best wishes!” waves saeki.

haru nods, wrapping your mooncake in a cloth and leaving the building. he is tired, but the fatigue he was feeling was nothing compared to yours.

he remembers that daisuke had dropped you off at his home, since neither knew your address and the black-haired man needed to get to work.

he opens the door to his apartment, hanging his jacket by the door and placing the mooncake on the table. he brings it to your sleeping form with a few headache tablets and a glass of water, leaving it on the bedside table.

he grabs a few of his clothes and heads in the the shower, drying off and deciding to take a short nap on the couch afterwards.

he falls asleep shortly, forgetting about the elephant in the room which waited to greet the two of you once you’ve woken up.

NOTES ♕❣⁂ღ

long awaited part two! i thought a prequel would be the best way to write a second part, and they can be read in any order :)

this story also takes place betweem episode two and episode four, during the flight to hong kong.

#balance unlimited #the millionare detective balance: unlimited #balance unlimited imagines #balance unlimited x reader #fugou keiji balance unlimited #haru kato #haru kato x reader #kato x reader #haru kato imagine

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symbianosgames · 7 years

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Most players won't play to the end of your game. That's not a tragedy -- that's a feature of video games' design landscape. Ubisoft creative director Jason VandenBerghe explains, in this reprint from the final (June/July 2013) issue of Game Developer magazine.

Argument: As a game designer, you are more free when crafting your ending than you are for any other piece of your game.

First of all, having an ending at all is your choice. Don't want one? All good! Games are loops, and if you want to leave yours closed, you will be in good company. No one has ever "finished" poker, or football.

But for games that do have an ending, only a small portion of your players will ever see it. We are, as an industry and as a culture, still confused about this. We are dismayed at the low finish rates of our games, and a player who puts down the controller before reaching the end is left with a vague sense of having dissed the game team.

Yet, the ability for players to stop playing whenever they feel like it is inherent in the form! This is not a bad thing; this is a good thing. It is part of the game-design landscape. And if you learn to worry less about insisting that everyone who starts finishes, and put your attention on the advantages this fact of gaming gives you, you will not find a more personally liberating moment in game design than in designing your end.

The question is: How will you use that freedom?

For several years back in the late 1990s, I lived with an eccentric friend named Dylan. Dylan was a carouser, a lover of swords and theatrics, a collector of experiences -- and an avid video game starter.

Dylan played dozens, maybe hundreds of games per year, and this was before the Internet, so they mostly came from the store. But, for all his passion, I don't know that I ever saw him put more than an hour into a single one. He would buy them, try them, love them... and then set them aside forever. This was a man who stopped playing Diablo after an hour or so (!). Even more weirdly, he was always perfectly content with his purchases, never showing a single hint of regret at not seeing the end.

He never did this with movies or books. Ever.

Watching Dylan's weird relationship with the games he played taught me that it is absolutely not required to finish a game to appreciate it.

Last year, you may remember that CNN published an article by Blake Snow that regaled the Internet with the news that only 10-20 percent of gamers actually finish the games they started.

No argument. When we see game finish rates over 30-40 percent, we sing the praises of the team and pop the bubbly. Numbers like that imply that we managed to make some seriously compelling content, and smooth out all the bumps along the way. Precious few games reach that goal.

But, I have a beef with an unspoken assumption in this article, and in many articles like it. Here's how the article's author put it:

"Let [this] sink in for a minute: Of every 10 people who started playing the consensus 'Game of the Year,' [Red Dead Revolver] only one of them finished it. How is that? Shouldn't such a high-rated game keep people engaged? Or have player attention spans reached a breaking point? ...Who's to blame: The developer or the player? Or maybe it's our culture?"

My beef is with the idea that failing to finish a game is a bad thing.

Putting down the controller somewhere before the final climactic scene in a video game is not a sin. It is an intrinsic part of our art form.

I never finished the first BioShock, yet it remains a game I thoroughly enjoyed. Grim Fandango? Never finished it. But I sure as hell use it as an example in design discussions! I have never finished a single Z, but, man, they are fun (usually).

There are a ton of games that don't even have endings. Most arcade-style games and most MMOs don't have real endings. The Sims doesn't have an ending. Poker? Chess? Football?

In fact, a broad majority of the world's long-standing favorite games are specifically designed to never be finished. One game of Sudoku leads to another, which leads to another... In game design terms, even putting an "ending" into your game is, clearly, optional. We know this. It's self-evident. So, then, why do we gnash our teeth and tear out our hair when only 20% of players reach the end of our (story) games?

I believe that the idea has its roots in our beliefs about other media. There is an implicit rejection that is present when someone walks out of a movie, turns off a show on TV, or sets down a book unfinished. For those mediums, the message of this action is clear: "I'm not enjoying this story enough to continue."

When someone stops playing a game, however, the possibilities are far, far more varied:

"I'd love to keep playing, but the time commitment is too high for me."

"I enjoyed the beginning, but now it's getting sort of grindy, and that's not for me."

"Love the game, but I'm weary of the player culture, so I'm going to hang out somewhere else."

"My friends stopped playing."

These are not necessarily sins of the designer. Gaming is as much a lifestyle as it is entertainment, and if a game doesn't fit into an individual's life, they are going to put it down. That's not a tragedy. That's a feature of our design landscape.

So, instead of looking guiltily at our completion rates and fantasizing about a world in which 99% of the players who start our (story) game reach the final scene, let's flip it around and see what we can do to take advantage of this fact, instead.

More than half of your players are not going to finish. You know that going in, so think of it as a design constraint! What does that mean to you?

First: The deeper into your game your content is, the more likely it is that the players that are still with you have been having a good time. They're in. They've bought it. You have earned a certain amount of faith capital with them, and they probably want to see what else you've got up your sleeve.

Second: Because your producers and various high-mucky-mucks have seen the finishing stats for other games, they know that dev time spent in detailed iteration on your ending is effort going to a small subset of players. They will prioritize the team's time accordingly. They will thus be more likely, whether through disinterest or lack of time, to let your crazy idea for the end slip through the cracks.

Third: Players themselves already know that arriving at the end is a rare occasion—because they, personally, most likely don't do it very often. Every player has put down the controller on at least a few games. If they do decide to complete the whole thing, they will wear that fact as a badge of honor (we hope). So, they are psychologically primed to receive some kind of acknowledgment for their effort. Bright-eyed, with the end in sight, your players look to the designer expectantly, ready to interpret whatever you present as a kind of reward, while your producers turn a blind eye...

I only have one piece of real advice for you about this moment: Tell the fucking truth.

Whatever it is that is in your heart, whatever it is that has drawn you into making this game in the first place, do that with your faith capital. Spend it telling them that, somehow.

The first Modern Warfare had a great example of this: The final mission was the most over-the-top crazy, punishing, nearly-impossible-to-complete madness-fest in their game. It had almost no explanation, required none ("PLANE! TERRORISTS!"), and it was simply brilliant. The level was a celebration of the game that you had just finished, a self-referential guns-blazing cherry on the cake that was completely unnecessary, but became legendary.

One of the most satisfying endings I have ever played was the ending of The Darkness. It laid bare the truth of the fantasy they had created, and gave me full rights to punish an evil that I had come to loathe. The truth there was consistent with the story, but it was the play that they created that made that last scene true. I hated the villain of that game, and in the end the game did nothing to force my hand (beyond closing the door behind me). When I took my revenge, it was me that did it, and that act stayed with me.

But it is the ending of the first Metroid, perhaps, that best demonstrates the strange liberty we have with this moment. It could have ended with Samus Aran raising a blaster into the air in victory. That would have been satisfying, and it was an amazing game all the way through. Hero pose! Instead, Samus stepped out of the battle suit, demonstrated her gender, and shattered the 8-bit preconceptions of players everywhere. It is still one of the most celebrated endings in gaming history.

Let's say we were to apply these principles to this article.

You've stuck with me this far, so I can perhaps assume that you're interested in what I've had to say so far. We're near the end, so you are maybe starting to think about what you'll read next, or putting down the magazine. Perhaps you are looking forward to the internal satisfactory tick-mark that comes from reading the last line.

How might I use this receptive state of mind? What is my truth about endings, right now?

Speaking of endings, did you know that this is the final issue of this here magazine? Funny story: Through random luck, I've ended up with the honor of writing the final Design of the Times. That's this article, right here.

You know, the first time I picked up an issue of Game Developer was back in 1996, in the offices of Hyperbole Studios. I was a late-20-something, blown away to be suddenly making games after long years of professional wandering.

It was the existence of this magazine that gave me my first glimpse into the murky, somewhat-secret society of game developers. The magazine's professional-looking cover and its interior pages full of post-mortems and dev tricks all were clearly aimed specifically at a readership made up of people who made video games. Flipping through the pages, I gradually discovered that I very much wanted to be part of that target market.

It's much later now. We have internets, game developers are meeting with vice presidents, and 99.9% of people under 25 have played video games. It's a world in transition, and I cannot wait to see what happens next. But I, for one, won't move forward into that future without fi rst pausing and, maybe just for a moment, placing an affectionate hand on the magazine that was the warm face that greeted me as I entered this industry.

Thanks. Thanks for that, and for all the other stuff.

That is my truth on endings: I mark them, I use them to reflect, and if I can get away with it, I give thanks to people who have had an impact on my life.

As a game designer, you are more free when crafting your ending than you are in any other piece of your game. So, in the end, tell the fucking truth. Tell as much of it as you can manage. Tell it as best you can. And see if you can give the world something to remember.

#IFTTT #Blogger

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