#gameofyou

He always met her on the bridge. She was always dressed in black and it was always just about to rain.

“you're late” she would always say, a needy look in her eyes. That, along with her obvious emotional damage, was what always drew Jonathan back to her “its like you don't care”

“if I didn't care” he would say, being careful to remain nonchalant “then I wouldn't have come at all”

“so you came here to be cruel?” she would say, wrapping her arms around herself as she looked towards the spires that dominated the city.

“to you any kind of love looks like cruelty” Jonathan said, moving closer to her. The heavy beating of his heart felt like an animal trying to escape. He took her thin arms in his hands “its time you accepted that another person can love you, even if you can't love yourself”

“I don't see how anyone could even begin to” she began, but before she could finish Jonathan had leaned in to kiss her. At that precise moment the rain drops began to fall. Jonathan's timing was, as always, perfect. This was not surprising, replay any game enough times then it becomes second nature, and Jonathan's past made the perfect game.

“it's not just another simulation” Jonathan had explained, some months earlier when the Game Of You app was being trialled to various investment types. He had stood in the company's plush executive suite pitching like his career depended on it, which of course it did. “Its all real memory, pulled from social media accounts and inferred from video and photograph and from textual analysis of comments. Its reality as we want to remember it, and reality as it should have been” he had looked at the backers in the eye, this collection of independently wealthy men and women who'd mean the difference between his company sinking or swimming.

“how many of you wish you could go back to see that girl you met one summer? The one that got away? Tell her what you actually felt and not what you really said” he turned to the other backers “what about that guy that you were just too tongue tied to talk to properly and then found out afterwards that he had liked you back? Wouldn't you have wished to have done something about it?” he raised an eyebrow “well, now you can. You can go back to those moments, you can rewind them and play them again. Have another chance, try another angle and see what happens” he smiled “its your life, but its a game. Its a Game of You”

“hmm, so why do people bother playing?” asked one languid lady investor, her eyes hooded “surely we can all fix our lives in a jiffy if you make it into a game. Unless you've invented some kind of Freudian end of level boss” there was a titter from the assembled backers

“its not a game you can ever complete” said Jonathan, ignoring the Freudian bit. After all there was a small chance that the more unbalanced players would create their own personal hell based on their deep routed psychological problems. The game was designed to give people what they wanted, and a lot of people did secretly want to be badly treated. He had put in a psychological killswitch to prevent anything too masochistic occurring, however all this meant that the players had to upgrade to premium to stay in the game. “That's sort of the point. You can never really reach a satisfying conclusion, you keep playing again because you always feel it could be better. That night out where you could have had more fun. That conversation that could have been even funnier. Its a chance to do things better, but the game can potentially run forever. Every day it updates itself. You fail a job interview? Well now you get to do it again and again until you get the job. But even then you won''t be happy, because there'll be a dozen other things that will grab your attention. Someone hassles you in a supermarket, in the game you can go back and say the perfect one liner to own them. Or else you can just punch them in the face. Its up to you. Its a game that lasts a lifetime, because the user themselves is constantly updating it”

“so you've just casually created a perfect copy of reality?” said one of the backers, a minor business celebrity whose hard nosed attitude came right from the dawn of feral capitalism “This thing that so many bigger and better software houses have lost fortunes on. You've managed to overcome the uncanny valley and the floating polygon problem and all those other hiccups? Because otherwise I don't see what makes your product different from a dozen other piss poor VR porn platforms”

“we don't need to copy reality” Jonathan replied “That's not what this is about. What our software does that's unique is that it make a reality that matches the player's own perceptions of the world. None of us see reality as it really is, we all distort it to suit our own world view. The game uses programs that track eyeball movement and pick up heartbeat levels so it knows what makes people excited and what grabs their attention” Jonathan pointed at the projection behind him that showed the sort of impressive stats that were to most backers utterly meaningless, but nonetheless essential “this creates a world that people will want to believe in because it contains only the things that interest them. Its a totally immersive world because all it has in it are the things we like about our lives” he pointed at one of the screen grabs “every night we dream of things that are in no way realistic, yet we believe them because they feel emotionally real to us. And they feel real because they are made up of bits and pieces from our memories, all jammed together with emotional triggers. Its the same principle. Emotion always overcomes realism”

“and you think people want to pay money to wallow in their past miseries?” said the backer with a sneer “you think they'll look past the dodgy VR modelling just to grope a cheaply rendered version of an old girlfriend?”

“yes” said Jonathan, who by this point had been playing the game for three months and was completely addicted “yes I do”

The city that the game had created for Jonathan out of his memories didn't exist in the real world. This was one of the things he felt he couldn't get across to the more small minded of the backers. It didn't exist in reality because in Jonathan's mind there was no single perfect place in the world. His memory city was a combination of places that were tied up intimately with memories of specific times. There was the suburban Sheffield of his childhood, rendered in long red brick terraces that looped in concentric circles on the outer reaches of the city. The Barcelona of his gap year, all tall spires and endless beach fronts filled with cute girls who giggled at his accent. The Cambridge of his graduate days that bled easily into the London of his software apprenticeship years. Each one would have been unrecognisable to almost any other resident of any of those places yet to Jonathan every turn down every street brought a wave of nostalgia so strong it threatened to drown him.

  He spent much of his time in game running through old failed relationships, trying to complete them each time to his own satisfaction. In that sense they were more exacting than any end of level boss. In the vast libraries of the university analogue – its dreaming spires at least half a mile high – he whispered to an intense girl about mathematics in the hope that she would go out with him. He had yet to come up with the correct equation but he knew the laws of probability were on his side. Other times he spent with old friends, trying to achieve the correct geometry of being in the right time and the right place for the perfect night out. His customised VR rig was capable of adding chemical to his bloodstream – as it was of simulating the perfect hook up – so there was always room for experimentation.

“dude, you're so fucked up” laughed one of his oldest buddies, a person he had not spoken to in the flesh for a good few years.

“then I'd say, level up, motherfuckers!” replied Jonathan, quoting a meme that had meant nothing to anyone but his gang of intense software designers. He had played the same night out three times in a row, and was sure that he had almost hit the perfect experience. He just needed to play it a few more times to be sure.

“So it seems we have a hit on our hands”

The CEO of the software company didn't always talk to his employees face to face. It was a small company but that didn't make a difference. Power projection was important, a good boss should be like a remote and distant god prone to deadly mood swings. However Jonathan was a special case. The game had made Jonathan a special case

“yes” said Jonathan, surrounded by the beaming aura of success “yes we do”

“and as the main designer behind that hit you are in a very favourable position” the CEO steepled his fingers “we have many, many opportunities, you know. Doors have opened. Its time for you to go through them. You just have to say what you want”

“of course” said Jonathan “i want....” he began, then paused. What did he want? More than anything else in the world what did he want? He glanced out the window at the scurrying figures in the open plan office. The people running back and forward at someone else's behest. It didn't matter whether you ran a project or were just some coding monkey. You were always running for someone else. Even the CEO ran around at the behest of the shareholders, who no doubt had controlling forces of their own. He was tired of always working for other people, always putting other peoples demands ahead of his own needs. He came to a decision.

“Some time off”

“Umm, what?” said the CEO “do you mean a vacation? Because we can arrange....”

“No” said jonathan “time off. To do what I want. There are some things that I should like to do”

“creative things?” said the CEO, smelling money. He would have happily provided Jonathan with anything up to and including her own husband if Jonathan could produce another hit like Game Of You.

“in a manner of speaking” said Jonathan, remembering the girl in the library. He had just thought of the perfect way to gain her affections. He was sure he could get through to her this time, and if not. Well he could always try again, and again.

He should have known there was something wrong, seeing her on the bridge. Of course there was always something wrong, that was the point of pursuing the relationship. While the girl in the library was to Jonathan an almost purely intellectual challenge it was the girl on the bridge that drew him in emotionally. A fifteen year old memory of a two week romance should not have still had the power to affect him so much, but that was the power of nostalgia.

Jonathan opened his mouth to talk to her, ready for needy look and emotionally crippled words.

“We need to talk” was all she said. Something in her eyes had changed, though not in her appearance. Something in the way she stood by the edge of the bridge was different. She was not the hesitant eighteen year old, bur rather a more confident full grown woman. She stood taller, no longer hunching from the world. It too a moment for Jonathan to really register that it was her. The real her. Why she had chosen to enter the game to communicate with Jonathan was a mystery. However it might have had something to do with the fact that Jonathan hadn't communicated with anyone in any other format for nearly three months. Perhaps this was an intervention organised by whatever nearest and dearest that still cared.

“wow, Erie, its really you” said Jonathan “you came back for me” She didn't seem to have aged a bit in the last fifteen years, but then again she was a software avatar. Few people were masochistic enough to let these copy exactly their physical forms “after all this time, you came back for me”

“something like that” she said “look, is there somewhere we can talk?”

“we used to talk here all the time” said Jonathan gesturing at the bridge and the river

“yes, I know” she said, her face looking pained “and this was the most depressing period of my life. For you this might be bitter sweet and poignant and all that other Rom-Com shit but for me, this reminds me of the night where I try to top myself with sleeping pills, so I'd rather not be here”

“right” said Jonathan. He'd forgotten that Erie had problems that went beyond him, the game had only kept the cute crazy parts of her. In real life he knew she'd struggled for years with addiction and depression, but there wasn't anything romantic about that so it had been edited out “there's some pubs along here” he pointed at a part of the memory city that had nothing to do with Erie and she gladly agreed. A slight blur and they were in the snug of a pub that existed partly in London and partly in Sheffield but mostly in Jonathan's imagination.

“so you play?” said Jonathan “i didn't know you played. The game I mean”

“everyone plays the game” said Erie “if you weren't so up your own arse you'd know that. Its the most popular app in living memory”

“well, I can't take all the credit” began Jonathan “there were a lot of guys involved actually...”

“credit?” said Erie “there isn't any credit to be taken, but there's a hell of a lot of blame”

“blame?” said Jonathan “but people love the game. They're playing it in their millions. Its made more money than any since Candy Crush.....”

“that isn't a good thing” said Erie darkly “what you've done is probably the most damaging thing any human being can be offered. The promise that they can do their lives over again and change the bits they don't like”

“isn't that healthy?” said Jonathan “i mean, we all can learn from our mistakes, right?” he dredged his memory for all the good things in his game. It was a little hard to remember a time when he hadn't been immersed in it but he just about managed “the game teaches us to treat other people better, it uses the mechanism of gaming to give people something to aim for. It can reduce trauma by allowing people to solve issues in their own past, in fact...”

“spare me the psychoanalytical bullshit Jonnie” said Erie, raising her hand “I know what your marketing department cooked up, but unfortunately as an actual qualified psychiatrist I can tell you know that what you've created is a monstrosity. It doesn't help or heal anyone, because its not programmed to do that. Its programmed – by you – to keep people playing. You know people can't win the game because there's always something they could do better. The human mind doesn't like perfection and your game certainly doesn't allow it” she looked at him sharply “you were on that bridge, with me. Tell me honestly, has that ever worked? Has it ever saved our relationship”

“I'm getting closer all the time” said Jonathan “I've made it to six weeks so far. Till you dump me” there was still bitterness in his voice.

“And you will keep playing it forever, and you'll never make it any further. Because we weren't ever meant to be together. I was too fucked up and you were too naive to know that. No one could have had a relationship with me, no matter how good they were at helping other people. That isn't your fault, or your mistake. You mistake has been trying to rectify it over and over again”

“so, is that's it then? You're here to save me from my own game?” said Jonathan “very poetic”

“I'm not here to save you” said Erie “I'm here to save everyone else. Like you said its the most popular app in history. People are spending more time playing your game than actually living their lives. They aren't bothering to make proper decisions anymore because they know they can just do them over in the game. Its destroying relationships, people are being fired from their jobs...”

“Oh come on” said Jonathan “the game isn't that powerful. The kind of person who gets fired from their job because they keep playing an app would probably get fired anyway. Clearly they don't care enough in the first place. Maybe its the wakeup call they need”

“really?” said Erie, bringing up a message on the table “because you might want to be checking your mail a bit better”

Jonathan looked perplexed, then looked at the email account. It was his own. The top message was from the CEO. It followed on from three hundred other unread emails. The title was five letters long and began with an F.

“oh shit” said Jonathan

“yeah, so if the guy who designed the fucking game is so caught up in it that he doesn't notice that he was sacked from his own job then think about everyone else – the kind of people that don't have your hacks and shortcuts”

Jonathan was about to say something but then looked again at the image on the table. The messages from friends and family ignored, the people he loved most sidelined in his futile quest to fix the past. He realised that by trying to live in the past all he was doing was ruining his future.

“okay, maybe its not so much of a healthy thing” he admitted at last “but what can I do about it? The company owns the game. Only they can withdraw it”

“They don't have to withdraw it” said Erie “that wouldn't help, people would just download a cracked version and keep playing it. No, you need to change it. Stop it being so addictive”

“How would I do that?” said Jonathan

“i don't know” said Erie “you're the great games designer. You're the one who made a game so addictive that as we speak people are literally ignoring their lives to play it. Think about whatever you did to make it so addictive, and then do the opposite”

“and how does that work?” said Jonathan

“figure it out” said Erie, standing up “think about what would make you stop playing, then do it to all copies of the app”

“but....” began Jonathan

“I've got to go” said Erie  “but keep me updated, okay?” she smiled a brittle smile “you were always the nice guy Johnnie, remember that”

and with that she vanished.

“so what's the opposite of addictive?” Jonathan asked himself, looking around the pub. He thought back to his constant attempts to have the perfect night out and to have the perfect relationship. He remembered how they had at first tried to programme in perfection and then abandoned it because the beta testers hadn't like it.

After a few moments he had it. He dived into the source code for the game, bypassing locks that were meant to keep out any changes to the game not authorised by the company itself. Despite firing him they hadn't locked his access out, and even if they had then Jonathan had more than enough backdoors. Paranoia is always the best business practice, Jonathan had long since understood.

And in homes and businesses and offices and bars all around the world addicts of the game frowned as their own fantasy world subtly changed around them. There was nothing much to see, nothing that you could put your finger on. At first people continued playing, trying to put right what had once gone wrong. Then one by one they started logging onto other games, some of them logging out altogether. The numbers of players in the game first plateaued, and then gradually began to go down. The amount of time logged by players dropped, where once people had spent entire days fixed in the game now they spent hours, or just minutes.

“so you did it” said Erie, speaking to Jonathan in the game for the last time. He knew he wouldn't play it again, not after the last changes. There wasn't any point “but how?”

“Simple” said Jonathan with a sigh “basic psychology. What made the game addictive wasn't the ability to go back and change the past, that would have been easy. What made it addictive was that you couldn't. You were right, I kept on playing trying to make our relationship work, and it never would have worked. Every scenario is kinked to be the same way, so that you never actually get what you want. Means people could have played it for centuries, if they'd wanted”

“So what did you do to that?”

“I made it so that when you fixed something in your life it stayed fix. So that the girl you wanted to chat up listened to you. So that the boy you were in love with never said goodbye” he shrugged “human nature I guess, doesn't like the world to be too simple. People don't actually want to get what they want” he looked at her “being a psychiatrist means you know that, I presume”

“doesn't mean I could make a game out of it” said Erie. She gave him a smile “thank you Jonathan. Not many people could do what you did, and even fewer would have bothered. It would have been easy for you to take the money and hide from the consequences. But you did the right thing”

“it wasn't totally altruistic” said Jonathan “people don''t see when they're addicted to something, but you showed me” he looked around his fantasy land of ruinous nostalgia “If you hadn't I'd be trapped here forever, repeating the same stupid mistakes again and again”

“Glad I could help” said Erie with a smile “we should meet up some time, in the real world”

Jonathan nodded, both of them knowing that it would never happen. Jonathan didn't mind, some things were best left in the past.

Jonathan hadn't wanted to call into the software company offices, but there were some things he had left there and there was unfinished business he had t attend to. He felt he might need to be honest about why the game had dropped from its number one position in the charts. He reckoned it had cost the company something in the region of half a million pounds. If they hadn't already fired him then he was pretty sure they would do so now.

“Jonathan!” said the CEO, who had clearly spied Jonathan thought one of many cameras. Jonathan braced himself for impact “you're back already”

“yeah, I just came to pick my stuff, you know...”

“why?” said the CEO “are you going somewhere?”

“umm, what?” said Jonathan, not sure of what was happening. Having spent months in the game he was having trouble interacting with real people again “you fired me, remember?”

“no, no I don't” said the CEO, a tremble of worry going across his forehead. He blinked and his e-glasses quickly confirmed that Jonathan was still on the payroll “what are you talking about?”

“you fired me” said Jonathan “because I wasn't responding to any messages...”

“no I didn't” said the CEO “you wanted time off. You got it. You made the top selling app we've ever had. You got what you wanted....”

“but I read....” began Jonathan. Then in his e-glasses he checked the image that Erie had shown him. The list of messages. He hadn't actually bothered to check the real ones. Perhaps he shouldn't have blindly trusted Erie. He got a strange sinking feeling.

“I mean, its really good you're back on board” continued the CEO oblivious to Jonathan's look of slowly dawning confusion “because, well, you must have seen. Game of You is dropping in the charts and our boys and girls here can't figure out why. I was going to call you....”

“yeah, yeah I'm sure we can do something about it” began Jonathan, already flicking through his e-glasses. Googling a name he hadn't googled in some years. He wasn't surprised to see that Erie wasn't registered as a psychiatrist. He was, however, surprised to see that she had passed away two years previously. He thought again about what she had said, and what the game had really been about. It hadn't been about realism, he remembered insisting. It was about giving the user what they really wanted, whether they knew what that was or not. He had played enough of the game as well to know that the Erie he had known was as much a product of his wishful thinking as it was of her real personality.

“good job” said the CEO, slapping him on the arm “Knew you'd do the right thing – conscience, that's what you've got. You aren't the sort of person to let other people suffer”