The sound hit next – layered 8-bit chaos and bass-heavy dubstep vibrating in my skull like a wasp nest.
“Welcome to Joey’s Dungeon!” the voice boomed in faux-medieval grandeur. “Abandon structure, ye who enter here!”
The world around me shimmered, then distorted. The screen glitched for a second, and the Joey avatar shouted, “SQUIRREL!” before the floor beneath me sprouted a lava pit and reset.
Joey’s Dungeon was sensory hell.
I ducked instinctively, squeezing my eyes shut against the bright colors – but I swore it seeped through, drilled all the way into my bones
“What even is this?” I forced out, carefully peeking out from beyond my eyelids – and immediately regretting it when pixel Joey reappeared on a giant cereal box and shouted: “Reward structures are LIES!”
Joey spun around in his desk chair, clearly delighted. “It’s an interactive metaphor,” he beamed. “You’re supposed to navigate the game world, but every time you get close to winning, the game forgets what it’s doing and changes the rules.”
I looked around. A massive rainbow-colored fidget spinner floated past me. A frog in a lab coat ran up the wall. The words “CONSEQUENCE-FREE ZONE” flickered across the ceiling before catching fire and vanishing.
I quickly took off the headset, taking in a few deep breaths. Suddenly, Joey’s apartment – even with the neon-painted walls – no longer felt so overwhelming.
“Do you like it?” Joey took off the headset as well, but his grin turned into a frown when he saw my bewildered expression. “Shit, are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” I laughed carefully. “It’s just… a lot. But yes, I like it. It’s very you. Just not for me.”
My friend nodded slowly, leaning back in the chair. “Right. I suppose it should come with a warning, maybe. Might not be very suitable for people sensitive to sensory input, or, now that I think of it, people with epilepsy.”
“So what is the, ehm, purpose of this… game?” I gestured to the screen, where the game was still playing. To my relief, Joey quickly turned it off.
“I’m not sure if this can be considered a game yet. At this stage, I’m just playing around with it.” Joey ran his hand through his hair. “But as strange as it may sound to you, it calms me. Finally, I’ve built a world that matches the inside of my head.”
“Not so strange.” I smiled slightly. Neurodivergence could look different for everyone, and Joey had always been a sensory-seeking individual.
“You know how games reward consistency and punish impulsivity?” he continued. “What if there’s a game that does the opposite? Like, you get points for changing your mind.”
“Interesting.” I nodded slowly. “I’m proud of you, really. I can tell you’re excited about this, and you never did stop talking about your dream to make your own game someday.”
To my amusement, he looked away, his blush turning his face’s color closer to his hair. “I just never thought it would be possible for someone like me,” he admitted. “You know my pattern. I start something new on impulse, spend a few weeks putting my all into it, then I abandon or forget about it.” He turned his gaming chair around to face me. “I didn’t join Cognota after finishing my degree in Game Design because I enjoy reading conversations with Karen customers.” He grimaced. “I just thought it was the best I could do.”
I nodded slowly. We’d all had dreams before we ended up at Cognota. I wanted to reassure him, tell him that his fears and doubts were lying to him, that I could always see he was meant for more. But I knew as well as he did that reassurance from another person didn’t always mean much when the voice in your head was too loud.
“But…” Joey took a deep breath, and when he met my gaze again, a dreamy smile spread over his face. “That was before I met Raphael.”
I raised my eyebrows, amused. “But Raphael didn’t build this game, did he?”
“No, I did. But it’s Raph’s faith in me that helps me through it. I told him about my dream, and he wouldn’t stop encouraging me to follow it.” He laughed. “Before I realized what was happening, the man was building a whole business plan around my silly little games. For whatever reason, he seems convinced that what I’m doing here can be revolutionary – abolish the traditional idea that videogames should always have some kind of purpose and just embrace the chaos.” He rolled his eyes, but the look in his eyes shifted to one of endearment. “He encourages me when I’m doubting myself again, and he’s not afraid to snap me out of it when I’m being lazy. He helps me grow.” Shyly, he lowered his eyes, now fidgeting with the console in his lap. “And strangely, I think I’ve helped him find a new purpose.” He paused. “But what also motivates me is your plan.” He glanced up at me. “If we’re going to build this simulation, we’ll need someone with game design skills. Right?”
I lowered my head to hide how my face fell at the mention of the simulation. Whenever someone mentioned my crazy plan, anxiety played up in my stomach. I had blurted it out at the greenhouse without really thinking it through, my mind too fogged to still filter mywords – but now? After having the time to reflect on it, after we had discussed the potential risks? I wasn’t so sure anymore.
Besides, we needed their beans to succeed – and none of us had a reliable way of getting our hands on them. Even if we had the money, we couldn’t batch-buy enough of them without raising suspicion.
Instead of voicing all that, I swallowed the lump in my throat, forcing a smile through it. “That sounds wonderful. I’m glad you two have found each other, even though no one understands whether you’re strictly business partners or something more now.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He rolled his eyes again, but the blush on his cheeks answered my questions. “Anyway, I’m sure you’re not just here to bully me about Raphael.” He raised his eyebrows.
My smile faded. We both knew why I was here.
I opened my mouth, but no words came out. Suddenly, I didn’t know how to start.
Joey jumped up. “You know what? I’m gonna get a beer. You want some?”
“Just tea, please.” I breathed out when he walked over to the open kitchen. He knew me too well.
