goal is to create buzz around the game? Well, I know we can do that. I can do the storyboards and trailer rough cuts and edits, but can you help with writing copy? We’re a little short-staffed in that area. I also need to know what high-res game images and video assets you have available.” We spent another thirty minutes talking about budgets and the three-week turnaround. I also mentioned he would have real-life male strippers to use for green screen filming at his disposal.
“It’s a tight timeline, I’m not gonna lie. But I’m excited! I’ve never been briefed on such an absurd project in my entire life,” Nick said, laughing so hard he actually choked.
With Nick working on the game trailer, and Asher and Kat putting together the game demos, things were back on track. We had three weeks until the trade show, so there was no room for error. Somehow, we’d managed to hit every production milestone despite the addition of GameCon deliverables to our demanding schedule.
Asher came into the office later than usual, with two coffees and two bagels in hand. Was he being nice for once? Nah, turns out they were both for him. He alternated bites between the two bagels (“Oh my god, Melody, the new bagel shop near my house just opened this morning and the bagels are perfect. So chewy and soft. You should go there sometime”) and drinking the two coffees with lots of slurping bravado. The last few days I had brought in doughnuts, pastries, and muffins from the bakery around the corner, which had a LINE every morning, and fed all the producers, developers, and artists working on my project. And yet Asher couldn’t even think to get me a stupid bagel. Or add a third coffee to his greedy order. Bastard.
Ian walked by my office and backtracked to the door. “Melody, aren’t you coming to the meeting?”
“What meeting?” I checked my calendar. Nope, no meeting.
“Oh, I thought I’d invited you.” He looked on his phone. “Here, I’ll add you to the meeting invitation. You should come to it.” The meeting he invited me to, called “Meeting,” would start in one minute. I saw no agenda listed.
I grabbed my laptop and trailed behind Ian to head to “Meeting.” The only thing I knew about it was that the selfish double-coffee and bagel-eating monster Asher wasn’t invited.
Around the executive conference room sat ten other people evenly spaced around the table. A few Indian and Chinese developers, our black receptionist, and Kat and me. And Ian. And some cheeseball dude with a loud fake laugh and gray moussed hair, wearing a shiny oxford shirt with damp armpit marks, standing in front of the whiteboard.
“Welcome! Please take a seat, we were just about to get started.” I looked around for some clue on what this meeting was about. Kat sat on the other side of the room, so I couldn’t ask her. “I’m Rafael. I’ve been brought in by Ian to facilitate diversity sensitivity discussions. We asked for you to join this meeting because you represent a minority group here at Seventeen Studios, and we want to hear from you.”
My stomach dropped, like I’d just plunged down a roller-coaster hill.
Ian said, “HR thought we should do this because of the recent controversy around our newest game launch.” He shot me an exasperated look. I averted his glance by looking down at my notebook and writing “Diversity Discussion” in bubble letters.
Rafael read from a sheet of paper. “According to our roster, we have a wide range of representation in this room. We have foreign nationals from India and China,” he said, glancing at the developers. “We have Asians and Blacks”—he nodded to the receptionist and me—“and we also have LGBTQ.” He looked at Kat.
“I’m not LGBTQ, I’m straight.” Kat scrunched her brow and leaned forward, like a cat about to pounce. Did they think she was a lesbian just because she had short hair and drove a Subaru? Almost everyone in Seattle drove a Subaru.
Rafael didn’t know what to do. He looked at Ian. “Oh. Should we cut her loose?”
Ian thought for a moment. “I really thought she was L. But she’s still a woman. We could use that input.” He scanned the room. “But maybe someone else in here is L, though.” His eyes fixed on mine like a predator spotting prey. “Melody?”
My mouth dropped open. “I-I-I’m not a lesbian.”
And with me saying this, you’d think we were done. But no.
Ian asked, “Not