Duet

“Well… that’s concerning.” I say.

My co-founder Ivan nods.

We’re looking at a graph. Our revenue for our latest game launch. The revenue?

It’s plummeted.

“Why? It’s normal isn’t it?” My brother says, “The featuring from Apple has stopped. So the revenue is dropping. Isn’t that normal?”

He hasn’t caught up to Ivan and I yet.

The game was featured worldwide. Editor’s Choice. The most prestigious featuring Apple could give us. We thought it would be a silver bullet to success. But it wasn’t.

We built exactly what we thought Apple wanted and would feature. And they did. But now it was failing when standing on its own.

“Yeah but, James, if that was the best featuring we could possibly get…”

Ivan jumps in, “And that’s all the revenue it made…”

I take over, “And without featuring, it just goes down to the same revenue as the other games and if we have no real control over this…”

“…then we’re fucked.” Ivan concludes.

“Well, basically yeah.” I say.

There’s a sad silence in the air.

“Oh well…” and my brother cracks a joke.

“It’s not really funny James.” I close my eyes with fatigue and state simply.

Ivan sighs and breaks it down for my brother, “You know my life is like… on hold while we do this, right?”

“Huh?” my brother doesn’t get it.

“He means that his career, his salary progression in the industry, it’s all paused while we try to build this thing.” I explain.

My brother has no respect for that path in life. And neither do I actually – I just haven’t realised it yet.

“I know you’ve never cared about having a career…” I continue and I trip a nerve.

“Oh fuck you.” my brother throws back at me.

I roll my eyes and look at Ivan. He looks back at me and I know what he’s thinking. We are in sync.

Ivan and I go out for a break.

As I wait for my coffee I stare into the distance, beyond Ivan’s shoulder, as I collect my thoughts. We’re still processing everything.

I’m becoming quite angry at my brother.

And I realise…

Anger may make certain choices clearer.

There’s a silence between us. A pause.

“We should finish that prototype with the balls.” I say.

“The spinning prototype? James hated it though.”

“Mmm. Too simple I believe were his words.” I say.

“He’s not going to like it.”

I look Ivan in the eyes and smile. “Well fuck it. He’ll have to suck it up this time. He can work on something else. This time it’ll be just you and me.”

“Okay. Yeah it’s worth a shot.”

I add business constraints, “But we should do it fast. Six months, absolute max.”

“Sounds good. We’ll need to keep it simple.” he nods.

“We’ll make it minimalist. Without James’ art, it’ll be simpler that way.” I continue.

Ivan is always skeptical of weaker art styles. “Hope we can find good music…”

“Yeah. Something… minimalist as well. It needs to fit.”

Another pause.

“I could try writing a story for it too?” I suggest.

“We’d probably want a proper writer.”

“Let me try.”

“Okay. But about what though? It’s just two balls.” He shrugs.

At the edge of my mind I feel an idea taking shape.

“No. It’s about… the struggle. The game is difficult. It needs to be about something difficult. It can be universal. Something we all go through.”

“The struggle of being an indie game developer?”

He laughs and I laugh too. It’s apt.

But I concentrate again, “Yeah. But… maybe more than that? The pain of struggling. Of losing. Of losing a person maybe? Two balls. Two people. Love. Loss. Codependency? A relationship?”

“What are we going to call it?”

“Something minimalist. Super short. Like a single word…” I suggest.

Again, a pause as I think further. I let the creativity pour in.

“Duet.”

I say this name. And it already sounds like it always was.

Ivan nods.

“Nice.” And his lip curls into a small smile.

Later on, during the development, I write parts of the story. Snippets of advice – like a self-help book.

Little quotes based around the stages of grief.

Denial. Anger. Bargaining. Depression. Acceptance.

I’m writing the Anger chapter and I remember a thought:

Anger may make certain choices clearer.

Perfect.

On another day, I finish a yoga class. I am exhausted by the session and the heat of the room. And in the final resting pose, Shavasana – also known as corpse pose, a metaphorical representation of death and the acceptance of loss – my thoughts flicker as I come in and out of consciousness.

I imagine shapes in my mind. White blocks. Red and blue. The prototype plays in front of me and I envision new puzzles for the game. I keep them in my head as I wake up.

And as I get up after the class I’m a sweaty mess. I look down at my yoga mat and see all the streaks of sweat marking it. The blood, sweat and tears.

They look like paint splatters and I have another idea.

The next day I race to the office and talk to Ivan. “Can you try these puzzles?” “And what if when you lose, the blocks are splattered with paint?” “Like blood?”

“Creepy. But sure.” he laughs and nods, “Those puzzles should work too. I can test them.”

Great, I think to myself.

After six months of polishing we release the game.

However, there’s a mixup with Apple and they don’t give it their best featuring. Although it still makes good money. And then the featuring ends, as usual.

We assume it’s over. Our last game.

But a few days later. Ivan notices something.

“Hey… the revenue… it’s not dropping?”

He was right.

This game?

It stands on its own.

It becomes our big hit. Our magnum opus.

The story of loss. Of grief. Resonates with people who play it.

They email us.

Thoughts like… “It helped me get through a difficult time in my life. I was close to the edge. But then I accidentally found your game and the story really helped me. I just wanted to say thank you and please, never stop making games.”

What a gift. My struggles, my denials, my anger, my grief.

I have transformed it into something beautiful and it helps millions of people.

Unexpected things are beautiful.

But eventually and rather ironically, it will also help one person in particular. A few times in their life, in fact.

Me.

Five years later, I replay Duet twice.

Once while I try to find the strength to walk away from my toxic ex. By playing it, I receive advice from my younger self. And its instructions on how to survive the loss push me to make the decision.

Others may try to make you feel guilty.

But guilt can only truly come from within.

Second, I play it again after I’ve fucked everything up with the girl from Lisbon. Asking again for my own advice, I realise I need to run back to her and fix everything as fast as I can. But I was too late.

Change is good for you.

You must move forward…

And now, another five years later. Ten years in total since I created Duet. As I fly back to Paris from Spain, I open Duet on my phone and play it again. I receive the advice and its instructions on grief. I am comforted by myself and my old words.

Abandon all your expectations.

Sometimes letting go is the harder choice.

I let go of all my expectations.