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BY MORNING I HAD A starting town with several quest-givers and merchants. It was based on my apartment complex. The Manager became the main quest-giver, and I had plans to make him the final boss, too.
The enemies I made were nosey neighbors, security guards, and several levels of cops. I didn’t have any real story in mind, and Ben (my story guy) kept saying, “Don’t worry. We’ll figure that out later.” He kept insisting the map would be the most work.
I didn’t really see it. I just kept making more apartments, one at a time. They all looked pretty much the same, but so do real apartments.
I added zone transitions from each apartment out to the parking lot. I even figured out how to make a character action that a player could use to create a new transition in-game from my apartment to the one above. Ben reminded me it should leave a mess in both rooms, and I added that.
He nodded approvingly. “Write what you know.”
He kept probing for more information about the real girl who’d wrecked my real apartment. He couldn’t believe she’d just come and gone without more explanation. But then, he was a story guy. It was his job to make things make sense. Real life rarely puts in the effort.
My real apartment manager came by around noon. He pounded on the door three times then let himself in with a key from his enormous keychain. My door wasn’t even locked, but he didn’t think to check. I did make a mental note to add that keychain to my game.
Mr. Hauser took one look inside then jabbed his chin at Ben. “Who’s he?”
“A friend,” I said. “What do you need?”
“Rent,” he said. “You’re a month late.”
I spread my hands. “I didn’t cause the Pandemic. I already notified you I’ll be late for a while.”
He opened his mouth to argue, but we both knew the score. He couldn’t evict me. He growled to himself, then said, “You still owe rent every month. It’s accumulating.”
That made the permanent anxiety in my stomach roil, but I tried to stay cool. “I’m looking for work, Mr. Hauser. I’ll pay it back as soon as I can.”
He growled again, then gestured at my bathroom door. “I’m also here to assess the damage.”
“Did you talk to the cops?”
He sighed. “Lots. Why?”
“None of this was my fault,” I said. “That girl came in uninvited, locked herself in my bathroom, and tore up the ceiling before I could get in.”
His nostrils flared. “You did let her in, though.”
I shook my head. “Door was unlocked.”
“You don’t know her, then?”
He watched me closely while he asked it, but I had never seen the girl before. I shook my head no.
“You should lock your doors,” he said. He tried for the bathroom doorknob and found it loosely dangling in its spot. “What’s this?”
“Cops,” I said with a shrug.
He scowled at me, then disappeared into the bathroom.
Ben leaned toward me, “I thought you said—”
I shut him up with a glare. Polite Midwestern boy or not, I couldn’t tell Mr. Hauser everything, or he’d jump at an excuse to evict an unemployed tenant. Pandemic rules only went so far.
Mr. Hauser spent a while assessing the damage. I overheard a lot of cursing. When he came out, he was wiping drywall dust off his hands and trying unsuccessfully to shake it out of his thin gray hair. He didn’t look happy.
“It’s going to take me weeks to get this fixed,” he said. “I can’t even get anyone out until Thursday, but that gives you some time to find another place.”
“Thursday!” I jumped to my feet. “I can’t find any place by then! There’s a Pandemic, if you haven’t heard.”
“Oh, I know!” He glared back at me. “I can’t help you. Your place is wrecked.”
“It’s fine,” I said. “I can work around the construction crew. It’ll be fine.”
“You’ve got a gaping hole over your toilet!”
“I’ve got nowhere else to go.” The words sounded pathetic coming out of my mouth. I raised my chin and stiffened my spine. “You can’t legally kick me out.”
The landlord gaped at me. He looked to Ben for support, but Ben was on my side. Mr. Hauser shook his head. “Ain’t you got any parents, kid?”
He might as well have slugged me. I clenched my jaw to stop myself saying something that would have gotten me evicted. After a calming breath, I said simply, “No.”
The old man frowned at me like that would change my answer. When it didn’t, he dusted his hands again. “Have it your way. I’ll be back tomorrow with the longest legal waiver you’ve ever seen, but if that’s what you want, I won’t fight you.” He glanced back in the bathroom, grumbled something profane, and left. He slammed the door a little harder than necessary on the way out.
My heart was pounding like I’d just stared down a bear. My muscles felt watery and weak. I sank onto the corner of my bed, staring hard at nothing. My chest hurt.
“He didn’t say he wanted you out of your lease,” Ben said, with a lawyer’s patient logic. “I think he just wants you out while they’re working.”
“I can’t,” I said. I couldn’t find a better answer for him.
“What about your parents? I’d pick your parents’ house over this place even before it got demolished.”
My jaw clenched again of its own accord. “I can’t,” I tried to say more, but the words wouldn’t come. After a while, I hung my head and asked, “Can we get back to the game?”
“Yeah!” He rushed it out. “Yeah. Hey, no problem. Let’s do something fun. Want to set up some random encounters?”
“Sounds good.” I pulled myself together. “Thanks, Ben. I’ll explain later.”
That’s what friends are for.