The Cancellation

They cancelled the game. It wasn't a mistake. They said they did "market research" and "evaluated" that there weren't enough interested players to "warrant continued payments". In essence, we're all fired. Everyone who works here - worked here - is fired.

At promptly 1:30 AM everyone in the company got the same email from the company about the cancellation. Effective immediately, everyone's accounts were terminated, our final paychecks sent, and our work... well, what was going to happen to our work?

My brain feels like a thousand bees competing for a flower, each one of them a panicked train of thought. My eyes are blinking back and forth between every object in my range of vision. Everything is so blurry. I think I may be crying. Is that why I'm gasping for air? 

It would appear that the sobbing is in fact the reason for all of those sensations. It's loud and ugly and it's echoing back at me in this empty office. 

I'm doubled over in my swivel chair dry heaving. I can see the mascara-infused teardrops landing on the greige carpet and gently soaking into the fibers. That's going to leave a stain. Maybe at least when they pay to have someone clean it up, they'll think about the person who left it there. Maybe someone will remember that I cared enough to cry. 

Pa-Ping!

Pa-Ping! Pa-Ping!

Pa-Ping! Ping! Ping! Ping! Ping! Pi-

The people who are still awake like me are messaging me in a panic. Some furiously accuse me of knowing this was coming. Some are asking me if I'm okay. Others are asking for advice - what about their homes? Their kids? Will they have to move? Does this mean we'll never make another game together again? I think of the others who will sleep peacefully through the night and wake up tomorrow to find this cold and emotionless email. Their lives are ruined and they don't even know it yet.

They couldn't even look us in the eyes tomorrow? They couldn't tell us to our faces? That all the years and all the sacrifices are going to be buried in some folder in the cloud and forgotten?

The warm buzz of panic starts to recede after a good hour of crying alone and of ignoring everyone's messages. Instead it is replaced by an ice cold chill of hopelessness. This job, this game, was all I had. I'd poured my entire soul into making sure my team was safe, and that my gameplay was good. I live in a microscopic studio apartment with nothing in it. All my friends were here, but honestly they were probably only nice to me because I led the team. No family, no pets. No hobbies. Just this. And for all I gave up, look what it got me. 

It got me by surprise, but it got me nonetheless. 

I feel like I'm standing three feet behind my own body, watching it slumped there still shaking with emotion. In some ways I don't even recognize myself. Sure, I still have the same messy bun of red hair, and the same carefully applied eyeliner, but that isn't the same girl that started making games almost ten years ago. I'm nearly green from the paleness of working my days away indoors. My eyes look like they've receded back into their sockets. I lost more weight than I thought. My jacket and my jeans are two sizes too big, but not in a fashionable way. I look like an overgrown child. I look... pathetic. 

I let myself indulge in this feeling a while longer, slowly letting my mind drift away and away from my still-shuddering body. 
Goodbye Noa.
I keep drifting away, the spotlight on my body, all else black. And I drift and I drift until everything is black. And when I can see nothing else left, I give myself up to the blanket of cold despair, wrapping myself in it in a useless attempt to find comfort. 

Until slowly I begin to feel warmth again, like the sun shining on my skin. I'm imagining myself lying in a patch of grass, blades gently prickling my arms, the sound of a river rushing nearby. My breath steadies itself and I accept the respite of sleep in this small pocket of happiness that I was able to conjure for myself. 

"Hello Noa, and welcome. Wake up."

The crunchy, pixellated voice echoes in my skull, but I turn to the other side and drape my arm over my head and back into the vegetation. Just five more minutes. I deserve a little rest.