Roger chuckled. “When we did our early beta testing and let players design everything on their own, we got a lot of big, blocky vaults with one doorway right to the treasure room. They were great, if you were designing a nuclear bomb shelter. But the whole point of this game is to allow players to build the environment for their peers to compete in and enjoy the experience.”
“Got it,” said Derek.
“We charge for different classes of templates, by the way,” added Roger. “Inside the game. So if someone adventures in a really cool fortress they like, they can buy those plans from us, for a small fee, and undertake their own remodeling project. That’s just one of the ways we make money.”
“Interesting.” Derek would need to dig deeper into the money part.
“The second step,” Dave continued, “is to build the look and feel. We have a tool that extrudes the layout into a three dimensional elevation and maps the textures so that the walls look like brick, stone, timber, or whatever the player chooses. You can run it on auto, or again, you can customize it. I’ve seen Russian-inspired palaces, gothic castles, and squat military compounds, all with different masonry textures, towers, wall designs, and the works.”
More mouse clicks, and a Roman-inspired stockade appeared in the CGI-rendered foothills on Dave’s screen. There were sturdy square towers made from massive vertical logs and topped with spears; walls topped with battlements for sentries to guard; a courtyard and a keep as well. All within a minute.
Derek was impressed yet again. “That was fast.”
“I’m a pro,” Dave said. “But I’m also using a bunch of prebuilt stuff, just to show how it might look in the end.”
“So, I get this,” Derek said. “It really comes together when you see all the pieces. I create an account, deposit some starter money, and build my virtual castle to keep that money safe. Then I go adventuring around and try to figure out how to break into your version of the same thing and steal your money?”
“Yes, but if it were that easy, then no one would play, would they?” Roger added. “A few deterrents go a long way to making a robbery more dramatic.”
Dave nodded in agreement. “What we have here is just the superstructure. What it still needs are the defenses. For example, the player can hire computer-controlled henchmen to provide security. This means that when you show up, there is a living, breathing community of hired help—guards, monsters, demons, or whatnot, depending on your tastes. There are also traps and puzzles you can purchase to keep the wrong people out and prevent them from getting to the treasure vault. We’ve made some of them very nasty. Again, all these things cost money to acquire via in-game purchasing. We sell them in the game environment.”
It was all converging into a clean, elegant model.
“Okay,” Derek said, “so, I’ve built a castle and put in some money upfront, which is stored in that castle like a bank account. The more money I have in the account, the more powerful my character is, and the more successful I will be in trying to break into someone else’s castle to steal their money as my own, right?”
Roger nodded the affirmative.
“The other players are adventuring just like me, so they will have set up guards, traps, and security to keep their treasure safe while they are away. If I am clever and powerful enough, I will overcome those deterrents to capture the other players’ money, take it back to my own stronghold, and either elevate my character’s power further or have the option to cash out the money as winnings. The other player is trying to do exactly the same thing to me and my castle while I’m away.”
Roger nodded again. “And repeat. That’s it in a nutshell, all done with a ton of style from a rock solid game environment that looks beautiful.”
“And,” added Dave, “there’s an infinite amount of variety because the players are creating the environments. We equip them with a strong toolset so that their designs look visually impressive and don’t suck from a level design perspective, and let them loose. It’s a self-sustaining, continually regenerating, almost completely organic world.”
Derek looked at Jim. “I never would have taken you for a gamer.”
“I’m not, Derek. I’m in the entertainment business.”
“Then I guess it’s not that different from the last time we worked together.”
Jim flashed a knowing smile. “Look, Derek. We’re on the cusp of explosive growth here. We’re still private. The business model is proven and we’ll be cash flow positive by the end of the year. There’s been a huge amount of investment in the development of this platform and an IPO is around the corner so that we can pay off our investors. Soon we’ll be on a trajectory to be the global market leader in online entertainment for years to come. And I need your help to do it.”
Derek realized that everyone was staring at him.
“Well,” he said finally, “what can I say? I’m on board one hundred percent. I didn’t drive out here and get all wet just to learn some new swear words.”
They all shook hands some more before Derek continued with Jim on the tour’s next stop, the marketing department. He was excited to get started.
* * *
It was well after ten o’clock that evening when Derek got home.
No, an apartment. Not a home.
The front door thudded shut and Derek tossed his overcoat onto the back of the couch. A fully furnished corporate apartment that somehow felt terribly empty.
Derek could hear the rain still splattering violently outside, like gunfire.
He knew that he should eat something even though he wasn’t hungry. He put his laptop case on the kitchen table and stared at it emptily.
Eventually Derek trudged into the bedroom. He stripped off his work clothes and changed into some athletic shorts and a sleeveless t-shirt. Then he sat on the bed for a few minutes just to listen to more of the rain coming down. He was a stranger in a strange land. Austin was nice, but it wasn’t home.
Where was home, anyway?
At least there was a new job to keep him focused.
There was no point in staying awake. Derek knew that he would be at the office very early tomorrow. He was mentally committed to learning everything he possibly could about Netertainment and how it ran. He also knew that it would take him a while to go to sleep.
Derek stood up, dragged the bedspread off—and folded it neatly onto the floor into a rectangular pad roughly six feet long. He pulled off the top sheet and laid it over the bedspread, followed by the pillow. Then, opening the top dresser drawer, Derek reached in and produced a Beretta M9 pistol. He checked the clip, then slapped it back into the handgrip and made sure the safety was on.
He flipped off the lights. Derek knew he wouldn’t need an alarm clock to wake up early. The raindrops might lull the average person to sleep, but Derek wasn’t the average person.
Although he wanted to be.
Derek knelt down on the sleeping pad he had arranged on the floor and placed the pistol under his pillow. He pulled the top sheet over his chest, stared at the ceiling, and wondered what the night would bring him.
4
Within a month, Derek was finding Austin to be a nice place.
Derek stole glances at the mesquite and cedar trees as his Audi purred south along Highway 360, a road that cut dramatically through the hard limestone hills on the west side of downtown. He made it through a couple traffic lights before opening it up to 70 miles per hour. Less than ten minutes later he was nearing the 360 Bridge that spanned Lake Austin, an offshoot of the Colorado River with a surface as flat as glass. The Netertainment building sat clustered with several other technology companies on a limestone cliff overlooking the lake. Derek was slowing at the red light just before the bridge when he heard loud music coming up behind him.
Ah, yes. Texas and its Country Music.
The jeep rolled by in the lane to his left, no doors, bikini top across the roll bars, with the stereo blaring Dixie Chicks. In the driver’s seat was a short, bearded Ind
ian wearing a red turban. Manmeet.
The light turned, and Manmeet aggressively cut in front of a car ten yards ahead and forced his way into the turning lane. If he heard the car horns blaring over the powerful speakers thumping from his vehicle, he paid it no attention as he blazed his way up Courtyard Drive toward the office. Derek, with more patience, waited his turn before following.
The Sikh was just walking out of the parking garage when Derek pulled in. Derek rolled down his window. “Hey.”
“Good morning, Derek.”
“Pretty aggressive driving back there, don't you think?”
“You should see me when I'm in India. I’ve taken off a couple rearview mirrors.”
Derek snorted aloud. Manmeet had proven to be such an interesting person to talk to that Derek couldn't resist mixing it up with him. He pulled in to park. Five minutes later, he was in his office sorting out what his day was going to look like.
As Chief Financial Officer, Derek’s responsibilities included everything related to the fiscal health of the organization—income, expenses, cash flow, risk management. It made for a steep learning curve with a company like this. There was a lot of money that changed hands every minute as players stormed strongholds and robbed competitors, and all of it had to be tracked to the penny in the complex math of the system. Nightly, the balance of each player’s account was reconciled with the offshore bank in Bermuda, chosen to protect Netertainment’s assets in the event that some future regulation ever decided to classify what they did as online gambling.
What Derek had on his radar today was addressing a lack of business metrics. The reporting his predecessor had set up included basic financial numbers—cash flow, profit, enrollment—but no real way to drill down and determine the drivers behind them. Put simply, Derek couldn’t tell where the money came from. Was the upward revenue trend from new players joining the game, or from existing players increasing their spending? Was there a difference in which players were more profitable for the company? What triggers caused people to take money out altogether?
He needed to understand all these things. Derek decided to hunt for Roger.
He found him with the In-World Tools guys. Derek heard the singsong profanity floating through the air as the COO dressed down Dave Streib and two other developers, all of whom stood a foot taller than him. Something about polygons and artifacts, whatever that meant.
Lucy was there, too, standing next to Roger.
She was wearing a gray pantsuit, with a vest that fit her torso perfectly and made her figure stand out. The tattoos on her bare arms ended neatly at her shoulders. Derek admired the collage of dragons, castles, and medieval figures represented in a myriad of reds, blues, and greens. He wondered if she had gotten her ink done by the artists at Netertainment.
When Derek walked up, she was the first to look at him. There was challenge in her eyes again. There was always challenge in her eyes. He didn’t understand the animosity she had when he was around. It’s not like he keyed her car or anything.
“So, can you knuckleheads get this fixed?” Roger was finishing.
Dave and his team were nodding yes.
“Good. Then get it un-fucked so we can release into production.”
The developers started shuffling around each other to get back to their desks. Dave hesitated, apparently readying himself to say something to Lucy, but when she looked back he simply gave a nod and excused himself. Lucy gave Roger a sly smile. Roger winked back at her before noticing that Derek had joined them.
“Hey, Derek,” Roger said. “What brings you down here into the mud with us hogs?”
“Hmm. I must have gotten lost.”
“I guess it happens even to the smart ones, then.”
Derek smirked. “I know you all are busy down here, but do you have a few minutes? I just need to talk some stuff through about how our little game runs.”
“Sure. Why don’t we go to the break room and sit down.”
“Okay.”
Lucy picked up her tablet and started to trail the developers who had left. She spoke to Roger. “I’m going to help these guys get on the right track with their coding. Are you all right with that?”
Roger chuckled. “I am sure it would be appreciated.”
She left. The two men walked alone.
“Dave has a crush on Lucy,” Roger explained on the way to the break room. “But he’s totally terrified of her. He tries to play cool and be Mr. Suave, but the fear is so painfully obvious that it’s hilarious. Lucy’s going to go mess with him.”
“I understand his nerves,” Derek replied. “I think I’m terrified of her, too.”
“Nah, she’s great. You just have to get to know her.”
“Is she interested in Dave?” asked Derek.
“Oh, shit no. He’s not her type.”
They walked on for a moment in silence.
“Is she a lesbian?”
Roger stifled a guffaw. “Um, no, but why don’t you ask her that to her face? Let me know which funeral home to send the flowers to.”
“Right. Don’t tell her I said that, please.” Changing the subject, Derek asked, “Those are some tattoos she’s got. What’s the story behind those?”
Roger grinned. “Nope. Sorry. You’re going to have to ask her yourself. Both questions.”
They sat in the break room next to several floor-to-ceiling windows that revealed another tremendous view of Lake Austin. Roger got two bottles of water from the refrigerator and stroked his goatee ceremoniously. “What’s on your mind?”
Derek took a deep breath. “Okay. I’m trying to understand how we make money.”
“We get a bunch of people to pay us each month.”
“Yeah, no shit. C'mon, I’m trying to be serious here. The way money changes hands in this game is a giant mud ball to me. I don’t understand the business drivers. And I need to. I need you to explain how the stuff that players do in the game turns into profit for this company.”
“I can help with that.”
“So how does it work?”
Roger took a large swig of water. “Okay, let’s see. There’s really only two parts to it. Players need to build a stronghold to hold their loot. And they need to steal loot from other players trying to do the same thing to them.
“Let’s start with building the stronghold. We give players these elaborate tools to design some pretty awesome looking fortresses. They can design all they want, or buy a template from us that they can customize. We charge for the templates. Then, when it comes time to build what they’ve designed, we charge for the construction materials. Get it? Everything they want to use, they have to buy from us, the game company. We have a monopoly on the housing market.
“Now, all players have to buy a treasure vault, given that’s where your money goes. But everything else is customizable—and so our charges can scale all over the place. How big and elaborate is your stronghold going to be? Is it going to be built on the side of a mountain? Near the seashore with only one approach by land? Then, what theme do you want? Medieval? Feudal Japan? Russian minarets? Something inspired by what Hell might look like? We have theme packs for all of them for sale. How about which building materials to use? What about defense? Knights and mercenaries? Goblins? A dragon that lives on top of your loot inside your vault? Traps to catch the unwary? You name it. Each player gets to decide how much they’re going to spend pimping out their lair, what sort of theme or flavor to give it, and there they go. And all these things cost upkeep to maintain. So in order to have a secure fortress to hold your loot, not only do you have to pay for it upfront, but there is a recurring charge to feed monsters, maintain traps, and all that.
“We charge for everything. Not a ton, except in some rare cases where someone’s gone completely, insanely overboard. But we have recurring revenue from every player there is. We’re the building contractor and tax man.”
“I see.”
“It’s a simple idea. And, honestly, I think we do it w
ith more style than anyone expects. Say you hire a dozen knights to act as sentries for your stronghold while you’re away storming someone else’s castle. You’ll find that the personalities and diligence of each knight varies. Their servants are milling around cleaning up after them, they have squires helping them with their armor and horses, cooks in your kitchen feeding them—basically, all these other characters that make the world seem like a living, breathing place. The player doesn’t have to worry about those details, but when a rival adventurer attacks or infiltrates, it fleshes out the whole experience and makes it a lot more visceral.”
“How much money do we make in that process?”
Roger thought for a moment. “It varies. I’d say a basic stronghold costs around ten dollars to set up from scratch, and then another ten to furnish it with its core defenses of guards, monsters, and traps. Figure two bucks a month after that for maintenance. That’s the first time. After they’ve been broken into a couple times, or if someone has even gone and razed their stronghold to the ground in a siege, players will build new castles in different locations and in different styles as they get smarter about protecting themselves. The trend is they spend more on later iterations, especially if they get into making them big and elaborate. For some players, the creation of their strongholds becomes a sort of process unto itself, a canvas for expressing themselves. Digital art, I guess, which is why Dave and those guys spend so much time making the toolset intuitive and easy to use. We’ve had a few instances where a player will put up hundreds of dollars to build some beautiful palace, and then dump an additional hundred bucks per month as they tinker around.”
“Okay,” Derek said, listening intently, taking notes in his little black notebook. “What else?”
“Ah, of course, there's also the questing part. Your stronghold is the target quest of other players trying to steal your stuff. And when a rival is successful, we take a percentage—our sales tax.”
Armchair Safari (A Cybercrime Technothriller) Page 4