Choose Your Own Adventure - Part 9. $5 Reward

The suplex worked. The ghost has left Bingo Nights’s dog body. Great work everyone! Now he’s a floating blue wisp in the shape of a large human nose, about 6 inches wide and 6 inches tall. So around your size! In case you forgot, you are a carrot.

You ask him if he’d like to join your video game development team. You specifically need help writing music and with additional programming. Is that something the ghost would be interested in?

The nose ghost considers it for a moment, and then sneezes. That must mean yes.

Bingo Nights barks in excitement, and chimes in that he’s excited. He either has already forgotten his possession episode, or he just forgives quickly. Maybe we can all be a bit more like Bingo Nights. Or maybe he’s just naive.

A lot of time passes. You all work on the game for this entire time, day and night and sometimes even the special third time, all working towards a goal. You’re proud of your team. And you’re proud of the game. You forge multiple industry contacts as the lead creative on the video game during development, and after all this time - it must have been at least, two, three weeks? You have something to show for yourselves.

You’ve made a video game. You, Bingo Nights, Nose Ghost. What a team. You’re so proud of it. Now, it’s time for the next step. It’s time to monetize this thing. You reach out to one of your industry contacts who sets you up with one of their industry contacts and this chain goes on and on until you have a Big Meeting on the books with a Big Executive who wears a Big Suit and uses Big Words.

Now it’s time for the meeting. The reception lets you in without a hitch, unbothered by your carrot-ness. Bingo Nights and Nose Ghost flank you on either side. You walk into the office, push your carrot shoulders(?) back and try to present yourself as confident. You’re nervous.

The Big Executive sits at her desk. She’s actually not that large, a middle aged woman with a slight frame. But her suit is massive. Like, not her size at all. It’s just huge. You’re amazed.

‘So, your game,’ she says, startling you with how she quickly gets cuts to the chase, ‘It’s not good. It’s actually horrible. You modded the horrible Super Nintendo version of Doom so that it’s a mashup of a dating simulator where all the characters tell you they’re not interested in you in the ending and a knockoff of Flappy Bird?’

It was supposed to be Tiny Wings, you tell her.

Big Executive pounds her fist - you think that’s her fist, it’s completely covered up in the long arms of her suit - on the desk. ‘You’ve wasted my time! I hate you. How are you going to fix this?’

This isn’t how you thought today would go. How will you fix this awful situation?