Allie woke up at six, her phone alarm vibrating under her pillow. She turned it off and silently got out of bed, navigating from the phone’s light into the hall. She didn’t want to wake up Derek. Bad enough she had to join him in bed after he was asleep and leave before he woke up. She’d forget what color his eyes were at this rate. She pulled a robe off the back of the bathroom door and shuffled into the kitchen to flick on the electric kettle. Derek had ground the beans last night before going to bed, and two pour-over cones sat next to the kettle, waiting for water to transform them into the magic elixir of life.
Allie sat down at the kitchen table and popped open her laptop. Maybe she could go in a little later today, get breakfast with Derek first. The last week had been littered with problems, though, and she was far from certain that they were over yet.
Wi-Fi was out, and she rebooted the router, then looked through last night’s emails. Today’s numbers looked good. Allie loved that a “woman’s game” had managed to outperform SOS’s previous hit, Angels and Assassins. But more, she loved the players’ creations. The community manger had sent her screenshots of the latest, including a quilted reproduction of Wat Pho, Thailand’s temple represented in virtual gold and cream fabric squares. No matter how clever the lead designer thought he was being with new fabric kits, the players took them apart and recreated them into more and more fabulous quilt creations.
This week, revenue had taken a freakish tumble out of nowhere. She was in the office from Tuesday until Wednesday morning before she’d managed to track down what turned out to be a reporting error. Sadly, both the acquisition numbers and a gently downward sloping revenue curve were accurate. Sleep would have to take a back seat until she had a plan.
She watched as her email list suddenly doubled then tripled as Wi-Fi connected. Triage time. She scanned for any flagged red, and by some miracle, nothing had burned down overnight. She got up and released the coffee into the mug. She permitted herself a moment to inhale deeply the fragrant liquid, and joyfully scalded her mouth with it. She sat back down and got ready to sort out the noise from the signal. Then another email popped in, flagged and with the subject line “URGENT 8:30 meeting w/Rick.” Her stomach dropped. A meeting with SOS’s CEO was never a good thing.
She wouldn’t be having breakfast with Derek after all.
She got to meeting room Mario at 8:15 and plugged in her computer to make sure the projector worked. She opened both PowerPoint and Excel, making sure she could toggle from the presentation she’d whipped up to the raw numbers if needed. Rick had been known to yell at people for showing him numbers and not showing him numbers, and since she had no idea how deep they’d go, she wanted to be ready for anything. She reviewed the lines of numbers again.
Why were the acquisition numbers dropping? Game growth usually showed one of two curves. Acquisitions either popped out of the gate and then settled, or they started slow and then picked up into a hockey stick if players loved it enough to make sure the viral growth was strong. Allie had been promoted to lead PM because of her work designing for virality. She was extremely talented at figuring out how to get new players to share their progress and invite others to play. QuiltWorld was a game based on the pleasure of creativity; those always had great sharing metrics. Yet out of nowhere, the shares were faltering. Why? If Rick went into numbers, he couldn’t fail to notice this. Less worrisome than their trajectory was the fact that she didn’t know why they were faltering. The coffee sloshed in her stomach.
“Greensleeves, Greensleeves is my heart’s delight and who but my lady Greensleeves,” sang an off-key baritone. Allie jerked her head around anxiously. It wasn’t Rick. No way on earth.
In walked Felix, one of the board members. He was a former EA executive, at Sega and Atari and everywhere else. He was now a VC, but weirdly omnipresent in the halls of SOS.
He sat down and gave her a grin. “Play anything good lately?” he asked.
“I’m liking the mod on Baccarat the team just released.”
“I mean outside these halls!” He threw his bulk down into a chair and put his feet up on the table. His pupils were hugely dilated, and she wondered what that meant, and if it was even a safe thing to wonder. “You don’t only play our games.”
Allie didn’t talk much with board members. And by not much, she meant never. What was the right answer? Was there a right answer? Every day was like another test.
“Honestly, I’ve been playing mostly Korean MMOs. They are doing great things with collaboration mechanics, and the art is surreal beyond belief.”
“Write down the names of them for me.” He slid his feet on the conference table, leaving a slight smudge of mud.
I wonder if it’s raining, she thought. I wonder how high up in the org you have to get before you feel comfortable putting your feet on the conference table.
At that moment Rick walked in, talking to her GM, George. George always spoke slightly too loudly and seemed to take up all the room, except when Rick was there. Then Rick’s tiny form and giant personality overwhelmed everyone else, the only star in the system. Right behind George came QuiltWorld’s CTO, Pete. George pulled the door shut behind them. Weird. Was this it? What meeting could this possibly be, with this group? She petted her Mac absentmindedly, finding the cool aluminum comforting.
“Okay, then. Allie.” Rick’s eyes locked on her. The brown was so dark she couldn’t tell how much was iris and how much was pupil, like a badger’s eyes. She glanced back to Felix. Felix’s glassy eyes seemed inward looking, half-dreaming, while Rick was all-noticing.
“We’ve been talking.” Rick glanced over to her GM. “George, you want to take this?”
Allie sat up a little. What was going on here?
George sipped from a bottle of water, then glanced slowly in her direction, almost reluctantly.
“QuiltWorld is where I hoped it would be. But I need new challenges. It’s time for me to move.”
At SOS, movement was the only constant. Everyone changed studios. If you succeeded, you left. If you failed, you left. If you got bored, you left. If you loved where you were, you’d probably get nudged.
“I’m going to start a new studio for a new game.” He began to twinkle with excitement. “I’ve been looking at the passive games, the way they integrate into lives. I think this could unlock an entire new market for us.”
Rick interrupted. “You’re funded. You can stop pitching.”
George sat back again, almost embarrassed by his show of excitement. “Well, so I’ll be moving on.”
Allie couldn’t help herself. “Who’s the new GM?”
Felix broke in. “You are.”
Allie’s jaw hit the Mac. She snapped her mouth shut, then asked cautiously, “Oh?”
“We think you’ve got a lot of talent. This is your moment,” Felix said.
When did she ever see Felix? Or more important, when did he see her? She couldn’t recall even being introduced.
Rick was nodding softly, as if he’d gotten wise insights from his consigliere. “Interim GM, for now. I’d like to see what you can do with the game.”
Pete smiled at her, still saying nothing, but there was approval in his expression.
“Time to step up, kid.” George smiled.
Rick said, “We’ll announce at ten, when everyone is in. Do you have any questions?”
There was no asking her if she wanted it. It was understood that she did. Everyone did. At SOS, there was a constant jostling upward. You tried for a better title, a better game, a better market, a better team. All who worked there had a silent stack rank in their head of what was ahead of you and what was behind you. QuiltWorld’s numbers were faltering, sure, but it still was the cash cow and darling of the company.
Allie swallowed. She had not seen this coming. She was lead PM, but she thought she’d get a smaller game first, maybe be offered one in “exploit” mode. So, when you were promoted, you’d usually step up and down, as they said. But she’d stepped up and sideways. She allowed a little fire of excitement to light up in her breast. Her baby would become her baby? She could take QuiltWorld to its next iteration? It was something she hadn’t even considered as a dream. She loved that fucking game. And now she’d be its shepherd? This was the best day of her life.
This was the worst day of her life.
At ten she was shifting anxiously from foot to foot, thrilled at what was about to be announced. She’d pulled a pair of pumps and a jacket from her file cabinet, feeling she should look a bit more respectable when her promotion was announced. And sometimes she felt better with a couple extra inches of height. Rob sidled up to her, still towering above.
“You look spiffy!”
“Shut up.”
“What’s up? Do we have VIPs swinging by today?” Rob pronounced VIPs to rhyme with zips, knowing it annoyed her. A little friendly teasing to try to get her to relax. It didn’t work, but she appreciated his effort.
“I can’t tell you yet. Just hang out a bit.”
“Heya, I ran into Davis downstairs in line for breakfast.”
“And?”
“I went ahead and told him I’m in.”
“Wonderful! I’ve got good news too, but it has to wait just a . . .”
Rick swept into the studio. Immediately every eye was on him. No one knew what to do, but all watched him surreptitiously, as if he were a king in a poor disguise walking the marketplace. Again, George was at his elbow, and Pete a few paces behind. Allie stood a little taller, excited.
“Hey, folks, gather round, got an announcement,” George called out.
The panopticon turned its sixty eyes to him, and the room rumbled to life as chairs were pushed back and people stood. People walked around the desks to the front, where George and Pete’s desks stood next to each other. Rick was sitting back in George’s chair, lending his approval to the scene.
George cleared his throat, then spoke in his theater voice, effortlessly projecting to the back of the large room. “Okay, folks, it’s been an amazing couple of years . . .”
A frisson of fear seemed to move across the room. If you’d worked at SOS for any length of time, you knew to regard announcements with suspicion.
“We’ve done incredible things! No studio has gone to Vegas more than we have!” A cautious cheer arose.
“But it’s time for the next QuiltWorld to be created!” And again, Allie felt the room move as one, this time leaning slightly forward with interest.
“Pete and I are going to be starting a new studio, to look into the future of passive games.” Now a cautious cheer—a polite cheer, if there was such a thing. George was a good GM, but not all the studios had good leaders. Some were neglectful, some were bullies. Change might not be a good thing. But Allie knew better.
“I know what you are all thinking . . . who can step into my giant shoes?” He paused, savoring the tension. “Tiny feet make big steps . . . your GM has been with you all the time! Allie, please step forward!”
Allie came to stand next to George, Pete, and Rick. This time the team gave an enthusiastic cheer. Whew. And Rick hadn’t used the word “interim,” so people would take her seriously. She hadn’t forgotten that, though.
Rick then stood. “Allie has led this studio along with George,” with a nod toward George, “to become the most profitable in the company. I have complete faith she will continue to keep QuiltWorld our shining star.” He smiled at her and shook her hand. Allie didn’t shake hands often, and missed slightly, hitting the inside of his palm with her fingers, but he recovered as if he hadn’t noticed. Then he nodded to George and Pete and glided out to his next appointment.
Later, while she was pouring her fourth cup of coffee, Rob stepped up. “Good news all around! Congrats!”
She gave him an impromptu hug. They didn’t usually hug; Rob was not demonstrative, but he gave her a quick tight squeeze of pride and happiness.
“I can’t believe this! It’s too good to be true!”
Rob looked at her thoughtfully. “Maybe. So, Pete is going with George?”
“Yep, they are a team.”
“Who are you going to get for CTO?”
Allie froze in place. “Oh. I hadn’t thought of. Would you?” She looked up at him.
“Oh, honey.”
She blinked.
“I can’t break my word. I committed already.”
“Oh. I get it,” she rushed to say. “Of course, of course. Really, it’s cool.”
“I’m happy to vet people for you.”
“OMG, that would be great! I’ve hired PMs, but never technical before.”
“No prob. So, who else is going?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, who else is George taking? Rick gave him twelve heads, I hear. I imagine he’d want to take people he’d know.”
Allie put down her coffee cup. Suddenly she felt very sloshy. She looked around the room. SHE KNEW THESE PEOPLE. They were her people. She knew who was good at what, who could be motivated by chocolate and who needed scotch. She knew who was a morning person and who was a night owl. And suddenly she was going to lose that?
They hadn’t discussed that at all in the meeting. They’d talked timing, logistics, about having regular one-on-ones with George to discuss handover issues—but nowhere did he mention taking her crew. Her crew. His crew.
She walked over to where George was leaning against his desk, Rick long disappeared. He was deep in conversation with Victor, her second in command on product. She walked into the space between them, making an equilateral triangle.
“Hey, George.”
“Hey, kid.” He turned to face her.
She smiled guilelessly. “So, have you picked out your crew yet?”
“Working on it. I’ll get you a list.” He turned back to Victor.
Victor said, “So things were dropping a little in August, but we thought that was seasonal. . . .”
“Okay,” she said, and retreated to Rob.
“You’re right. He’s going to take everyone good.”
When Allie walked into the studio Monday morning, George’s desk was empty. As were Pete’s, Victor’s, Janice’s, and Steve’s. George had basically wiped away senior leadership, leaving her with strong teams led by no one but her. If only Rob hadn’t left literally minutes before her promotion.
She stood looking at the studio, about a fourth filled. It was only 9:15; few would come in before they had to for the 10 a.m. stand-ups. She walked over to Jheryn, a senior engineer who was quietly staring at his monitor. He turned to her as she walked up and gave her a shy smile.
“Hey, seen George and his crew?”
“He’s up on the third floor. I think by Dark Room.” The third-floor conference rooms were named for iOS games.
“Thanks!”
She shot up the stairs, taking two when she could. George was NOT going to worm out of their one-on-one today! If he was near Dark Room, it meant he was near the mobile team. She wondered if that was an accident or meant something. Probably it meant something. George was nothing if not strategic. All choices meant something.
She caught her breath as she topped the staircase and stepped into the community kitchen. She grabbed a bottle of water and took a sip to slow herself down a bit. Then she made her way through the open room toward where she recalled the Joust conference room was. The space was about fifty percent occupied, if desk decor was any hint. Only a quarter ago, they had no mobile dev team. This was some crazy growth. But that was SOS. It doubled every six months.
She found George sitting against a window, his desk already adorned with his collection of Lord of the Rings action figures. “Hey, buddy. Ready?”
“Hmm?” He looked up at her. “Oh, yeah, hi!” Was he really as absent-minded as he came across? He was like a parody of a professor. Brilliant, but only loosely fixed in time and space. He waved at a nearby chair. “Shall we just meet here?”
“I’d prefer to grab a room, if you don’t mind.”
George stood and walked over to Dark Room. Ironically, it was a terrific room, full of light and space. One wall was all windows, and it had a large table in the center that could hold twelve people easily.
George strode to the head of the table and sat. Allie took the seat to his right, and they pushed out their chairs and swiveled to face each other. Today the dance felt meaning-filled to Allie. First his right-hand man, now his equal.
Allie spread her hands out, as if to receive a physical package of his experience.
George shifted a little, perhaps trying to get comfortable in the office chair. “I’m taking a core team, but nothing crippling.”
“It looks like you are taking the CTO, art director, lead game designer, and the most senior PM.”
“You’re the most senior PM.”
“What do you even need a PM for? You don’t have anything to optimize!”
“Victor is interested in learning about early stage game development.” George was not rising in reaction to her anger. “And he can do analysis on emerging trends and generally keep us focused and on schedule.”
“Janice is critical to our next upcoming launch. Couldn’t you have taken another staff member? Aaron? He’s really good.”
“Come on, Allie. The style guide will keep everyone on brand, and you’ve got enough bodies. Janice is bored with just executing against the guide. She deserves to shape a game to her vision, don’t you think?”
‘Don’t you think.’ That always meant you should think, as far as Allie could tell. She sat for a second, trying to put a finger on what she did think. What she felt.
“You’ve taken all the senior managers from QuiltWorld. I’ve never run a team this big. Not even close. I would have liked to have had some support.”
“I’m just a floor up!”
“You know it’s not the same. I could barely find you when we were in the same office. Now I’ll have to form an all-new leadership team.”
“You can do this, Allie. Rick picked you for a reason. Felix and I both recommended you. Your work on maximizing revenue on special events is unmatched, and the team admires you.”
“I don’t need a pep talk, George! I need a crew!”
George regarded her calmly, and then said, “Well, I have some good news then.”
Allie stared at George. She could see the crinkles of his eyes that said he was smiling. Why was he pleased with himself?
“Yosi will be your interim CTO.”
Allie sat back in her chair, semi-stunned. “Yosef Beinart?” She was stunned.
“Yep,” George said, looking much like he had eaten a canary.
“He’s going to Tel Aviv!” she replied.
“Not until after Q1. His wife wants to have the baby here with her primary care physician. She feels more comfortable with the devil she knows, he says.”
Yosi had been the first CTO of SOS. He was not a people person. He was a code person. He spoke to it like a horse whisperer. And he could hire. He could talk to someone for five minutes and know if they could code worth a crap. Pattern recognition, he called it. But no one enjoyed working for him. He was a micromanager. Apparently, he couldn’t recognize his own patterns.
They’d placed a VP of engineering under him at first, to deal with management issues. But he had a way of profoundly annoying investors and embarrassing Rick in meetings. He’d been gently nudged over into an R&D role, chief scientist or something. She hadn’t heard much for a while. Last she’d heard, he’d been working on a new platform to assemble game components more quickly, and he was moving back to Tel Aviv to work with their engineering team there.
Allie thought through the repercussions. The thing was everyone agreed he was brilliant. There was zero question about that. And there was some prestige in having a founder in your studio.
“He can help you with your searches. Evaluate talent. And of course, keep the lights on. When I found out he was staying, I wrangled him for you.” George was smiling broadly now, like he had just given her a kitten. After stealing her new bike, of course. And scooter. And skateboard.
“This breaks all the rules, George. You aren’t supposed to just pillage one studio to build a new one.”
“Rick approved it. He felt you had enough headcount to handle it. You should get back to your studio. Yosi will be there to listen in on standup.”
Allie glanced at the clock. 9:45 already. Fuck. Nothing to do but suck it up. She stood, and George followed suit. “I look forward to our next one-to-one. You can teach me how to hire an art director.”
“My pleasure, Allie. You’ve always been my favorite protégé.”
Allie managed to leave the room without punching him in the face.