Remember last year, when I wrote the 40th chapter of this collection in response to the vitriol surrounding the release of Activision-Blizzard's Diablo III? Well, the game recently had its first anniversary, and the proverbial crapshoot opened itself up again, and my fury was made manifest in this.
I'm not entirely sure if it's hypocritical to hate negativity, but I do. The longer I live, the more I question the validity of hating things. I mean like, hating TV shows because they're "predictable," or hating books because they're "clichéd." I mean hating videogames because they're "disappointing."
If you don't like a show, turn it off. If you don't like a book, put it down. If you don't like a videogame, replace it. Yelling at the people who made it, and demeaning the people who like it, solves nothing. It creates more problems, for everyone involved.
As is typical when I find myself angry, I used Seto as my mouthpiece.
His performance was nothing short of masterful this time, I think.
1.
"Mister Kaiba…what was that?"
Seto stood out in the parking lot of a structure that encapsulated everything he had ever wanted to do with his life, looking ready to lay waste to it. He watched Helen Aarden approach him like he was wondering whether he had a good enough excuse to rip her face off and eat it.
Seto gestured to the building. "That, was me refraining from committing a felony."
Helen frowned. "I know Gambit is your brother's pet project, Mister Kaiba, but you can't take offense at every little thing people say about it." She sighed. "I know we've gotten more bad press over this game than any other in Kaiba-Corp's history. But that's the nature of the industry, Mister Kaiba. You know that. You know it better than any of us."
"…You know that I don't play our own products," Seto said slowly, after a while. "Specifically, I don't play the products with which I am involved. You may have noticed that I had nothing to do with Gambit. I told Mokuba that he would have free reign to call the shots this time, and I meant it. I did play Gambit. Do you know what I found? There, in that game my brother was in charge of making? A masterpiece. Something on which I would have been rather absurdly proud to put my name."
Helen looked like she was wrestling with the desire to say of course, sir, you thought it was a masterpiece! Your brother's name was on it! But she thought back on other games in which Mokuba had had a hand, and just how often Seto called Mokuba into his office to coach him on how to fix his mistakes. Seto was, if anything, harsher with Mokuba than with anyone else, specifically because he was fighting a natural bias in the boy's favor.
Helen hung her head slightly. "…I know, Mister Kaiba. I think so, too. I'm just trying to be realistic. For whatever reason, a lot of people disagree with us on this one. Vehemently, and vocally. Where we saw efficiency, they saw complacency. Where we saw innovation they saw betrayal. I don't know if it's because you weren't in charge or because they knew that an eleven-year-old boy was, but sometimes…sometimes this happens."
"Not like this." Seto was chewing on his words, grinding them between his teeth, before speaking them. "Do you think I don't know this? Do you think I don't understand that sometimes people take your work for granted? That sometimes you put everything you have into a project only to watch it drown? I know all of that. There's a reason that the first game from us that anyone ever talks about is Moon Jump 2. It's because everything we put out before that game either flopped, or gained cult status for a while before vanishing. For years, I saw each and every one of my dreams crushed, and stomped into the dirt, by every professional outlet that bothered to look at me. All I had to go on was the support of a ragtag group of people who bought those products in spite of bad press. The people I was trying to reach. My people."
"It's no different now, sir," Helen said, gently. "I know it isn't fair. I saw just how much Mokuba put into this project. I saw everything that you did. I know this isn't right. But there isn't anything that we can do about it now. I know you. You aren't going to change your brother's game to appease these people."
"You're goddamned right I'm not changing it." Seto drew in a shuddering breath that did nothing to calm him. "Now 'my people' are crying for Mokuba's head, and they somehow think I'm going to appreciate it." Seto's eyebrows raised. "And can I tell them that I don't? Can I tell them I want to feed them their own teeth? No. Because I have to be professional."
Something dawned in Seto's face.
Helen flinched.
The elder Kaiba disappeared back into the auditorium, with his characteristic stride.
"…Oh, no."
2.
Seto returned to his place, far off in one corner of the stage, just as Mokuba took the podium.
He watched his brother and felt his heart simultaneously break and explode. When the boy spoke, Seto wondered if he would be able to contain himself long enough.
Mokuba cleared his throat and said, "…My team and I did our best to make a game that we enjoy playing. We did our best to make a game that our customers would enjoy playing. That's our job. I realized over the past couple months that, for a lot of people who bought the game, we haven't done that. Gambit is a black spot on the reputation of the Kaiba Corporation. I was in charge of this game. It's my job to take responsibility for it.
"So I will. I'd like to announce, here in front of you all, that right now, I'm resigning from my position as Game Director for Gambit. I'm not cut out for this yet. I haven't learned enough, or grown enough. I'd also like to announce that my position at our new development house, KC Kairos, will be given to Miss Kelly Holstead. We all feel she'll be a better fit for the company than I am right now. For all of you hoping for the same stroke of genius from me as you've gotten from my brother, and were disappointed, I apologize. I'll come back when I'm older, and know how to better serve our community." He waited a moment. Then he said, "Thank you."
Seto actually saw the smarmy, sardonic smirk on the face of the first person who applauded. It started slow, but quickly grew in strength and volume until each slap of hand on hand was like a road spike being driven straight into his skull.
Mokuba turned away and gestured for his brother to take his place, managing to hide the tears running down his face from the crowd, but no one else.
Seto stepped up to the podium.
Someone lifted a hand, after the din had quieted, and Roland gestured. "Oliver West, with Game Frontier," he said."I think I speak for all of us when I say that it's really refreshing to hear someone take responsibility for the…ahem, unfortunate fate of Gambit. I also think I speak for all of us when I say that we're anticipating your next project. What lies ahead for the Kaiba Corporation?"
Seto closed his eyes. Drew in a deep breath. Let it out.
"…Nothing," he said flatly. "Nothing but a steaming pile of shattered dreams and disappointment. I am going to turn my company into a churning assembly line. I am going to release unfinished products, then I'm going to hide behind pointless jargon when I'm called on it. I am a money-grubbing, profit-mongering, soulless manipulator that doesn't care about my loyal customers. It's all about the bottom line now, folks. Leave your wallets at the door. We'll get back to you."
Dead silence.
Thousands of people sat, stunned. The man who'd asked the question went deathly pale. "Um…uh…Mister Kaiba?"
Seto raised an eyebrow. "I thought you wanted honesty. Did you not put those exact words in my mouth, not four weeks ago, on your weekly column, Mister West? I believe it was called 'Kaiba's New Gambit: Profit First, Polish When I Feel Like It.' Didn't you say that you just wish someone would admit it? Congratulations. I just did."
Seto put on an innocent face and waited a moment while West fumbled over his words. "Uh…ahem. I, uh…that was…tongue-in-ch—"
"I am about to say something entirely unprofessional," Seto thundered, his microphone working splendidly, "and I would very much appreciate it if you quote me. Send it around the entire internet if you can. Let the world know what I'm going to say next."
He waited, as was his way, until every eye was locked on his face.
"Fuck you."
There was a collective intake of breath, but no one, not even Roland, dared even look sideways. Mokuba, whose back was to the crowd, stiffened.
Seto continued, in a deadened voice: "To anyone who is 'sorely disappointed' in the game my brother's team created, but still plays it. To those 'concerned' about the future of the Kaiba Corporation while they continue to support it. And particularly to anyone who cheered at the removal of one of my most trusted and talented employees from a position for which he worked harder than any other employee I have: fuck you. I hope you're happy now. I just lost one of my most valuable assets, and you're sitting here asking me what's next. I don't fucking know. I built this corporation with my brother, and you just drove him out of my building. All of you. Every single one of you that sat here and bitched and whined and made demands because you couldn't wrap your heads around the fact that you aren't in charge of making our products, and that the only definitive choice you have is to buy it or don't. Every single one of you who sat by and let this slide. Every single one of you who made snarky, immature, debasing little comments whenever we tried to reach out to the community with something lighthearted and fun, saying that if only we put this much time and effort into Gambit, maybe it wouldn't be the pus-filled cesspool that it is. To everyone who spat on an eleven-year-old boy's untold attempts to act like an adult, and give you what you keep crying for like sniveling little brats. You drove my brother out of his dream job. You drove out my partner."
Seto sneered, waited, then smirked.
"In about an hour, the blogosphere will explode. People will say that I shouldn't be surprised. That I should just do my job and not pay attention. That it isn't my place to respond to this kind of bad press in such an unprofessional manner. I'm not allowed to speak my mind. This is all just a part of the gaming industry, and that my bias in my brother's favor led me to such a horrendous faux pas. People will say that the Kaiba Corporation is dead, and that I killed it. That I let a child take the helm to make a videogame, and that I should have known better. No one will feel the need to mention that children have been in charge of making our games for years. That I was appointed the Chief Executive Officer at fifteen years old. No one will bother to wonder whether this smear campaign might be at least partially their fault, crying for a child's blood because they didn't get exactly what they wanted. Because they paid their sixty dollars and they deserve to be catered to. You people paid for the right to play our game, not to wave your hands and command us. We make our games, and you either buy them or you don't. That's it. But…that's not how it works for you, does it? You'll hold me accountable for what I have said today, and take no responsibility for the flagrant disrespect you've leveled on my team since day one. You have been spitting at us, demanding changes, threatening and howling and declaring war on us, for months now. But I, and my people, my designers and my community managers and my representatives, and my brother, must remain professional, polite, and pleasant."
He sneered again, with fire in his eyes.
"Fuck you."
No one applauded as Seto removed himself from the podium, and stalked away.
3.
"Where is your brother?"
Seto lifted his eyes to face the men and women sharing his office with him, and raised an eyebrow. "That, I am afraid, is none of your goddamned business," he rumbled. "My brother no longer has an active project at this point in time, in case you haven't heard. He has no reason to be in this building, or to interact with any of you. Any and all further correspondence with him will either go directly through me, or it will not happen. Furthermore, the next person to speak to me in that tone will have his or her face surgically restructured by whatever blunt instrument I happen to find most readily available."
Helen Aarden flinched. "…My apologies, sir. That wasn't meant to be antagonistic."
Seto stared at her, seemed to calculate something, then just slumped back in his chair and laughed. "I wonder how many times my brother has been summarily eviscerated in the past six months by streams of vomit that capped themselves off with 'That wasn't meant to be antagonistic.'"
"…And how, exactly, is that our fault?" someone else asked.
Seto's eyes lit with fire. He seemed to be actively reeling in a desire to vault over his desk. "It's not. Congratulations for catchingmy error. As a prize, allow me to gift unto you an extended vacation. Right now. Get the fuck out of my building."
"Mister Kaiba—"
"Get. Out. Before I make your death look like an accident."
"Damn it, Mister Kaiba, you're acting just as childish as your brother is! What the hell did you want us to do, intercept every complaint before he got his feelings hurt? You've already made every single one of us look like a fucking joke today! The least you could do is not treat us like one!"
Helen's eyes went narrow. "Lee. That's enough."
"No! It's not! This is bullshit!"
Roland Ackerman drew out his sidearm, but did not aim. "Do not continue to cause a scene in this office, Lee."
"Okay, okay, enough," Helen said, holding out her hands, and possibly saving Lee Scott's life in the process. "Damn it, enough. This is turning into nothing more than a pissing contest. Lee, have you ever heard of reading the temperature of a room? You're not arguing with the CEO of the Kaiba Corporation right now. You're arguing with the legal guardian of a child who was just traumatized out of this building by people we are supposed to manage. Have you ever met Mokuba Kaiba? It takes more than 'hurt feelings' to rattle him."
"That still doesn't excuse—"
"I'm not saying it excuses hi—"
"I'm leaving." Seto stood up, grabbed his coat, and tossed it over a shoulder. "I'll be working from home next week. Mister Scott, your honesty and bravery are to be commended. But if you don't shut your fucking mouth, I am going to take your continued behavior as a direct threat to my brother's health and well-being."
"He's not even here!"
"…I would remind you that the last person to pose a direct threat to my brother's health and well-being is currently rotting in a mausoleum."
Seto tossed the man against a wall, and vanished.
4.
"Your, ah…latest performance is already a meme, Seto-sama." Akiko glanced down at a small, spiral-bound notebook in her left hand. "'To anyone who ordered chicken the last time they visited a steakhouse: fuck you.' 'To anyone calling global warming a hoax while still going to church: fuck you.'" She snickered. "And my personal favorite: 'To anyone who is 'sorely disappointed' in the state of rock music, but still listens to Nickelback: fuck you.'"
Seto hung up his coat and allowed himself to chuckle. "My life is now complete."
"Niisama…?" Mokuba stood in the doorway on the opposite end of the parlor, looking embarrassed but stern. Seto quirked an eyebrow. "Why did you do that?"
"You know why."
"Niisama, I—you shouldn't have—people are going to think…" Mokuba struggled to find words, and eventually gave up, shaking his head and staring at the floor. "You don't care what people think."
"In this particular case, I care very much what people think," Seto said matter-of-factly. Mokuba frowned at him. "I want them to think I'm unprofessional. I want them to think I'm biased. I want them to think I'm angry. I treat people as they deserve to be treated. If sales plummet thanks to this stunt, I might finally find some respect for our customers again. As it is, I hate them all and hope they meet with crippling misfortune."
Mokuba looked ready to cry for frustration. "Niisama, you—you can't do that! They've already lost faith in me. Our customers and our employees don't trust me. They can't lose you, too."
Seto regarded his brother for a moment, calmly. "Mokuba, do you remember the first game our company published?"
"…The Adventures of Laser-Dragon."
"Do you remember who came up with it?"
"I did."
"Do you remember who made it?"
"You did."
Seto spread out his hands. "We can make games without employees, and without customers. But without us, our employees have no jobs, and our customers have no products. They need us. We don't need them. It's high time everyone remembered that."
"…You're not quitting too, are you?"
"No. But only because I'm a neurotic insomniac with nothing better to do with my life."
The smallest of smiles finally graced the young Kaiba's face. "You did it so people would be so busy yelling at you, they'd stop yelling at me."
Seto removed his tie with a jerking motion that betrayed his residual anger. "That would imply that I was protecting you. When have I ever done that?"
"That doesn't sound like you," Akiko put in gravely.
Seto shrugged. "I know. It's ridiculous."
"Completely out of character."
Mokuba sighed. "I guess that's also why you're home early."
"I am home early so as to avoid a massacre," Seto said, and Mokuba suddenly looked fearful. "I very nearly strangled my chief development team with their own entrails."
The fear vanished. "…Oh. I thought you meant—well. Never mind. I guess. I don't know! I don't know what to think right now, Niisama!"
"Think whatever you like," Seto said idly. "Other people don't have control over your thoughts, Mokuba. You don't have to answer to them."
"No. You don't have to answer to them. You can ignore it. I…I…"
"You're learning. Unfortunately, I can't help you with this lesson. The best I can do is this. I can turn this into a grandstand, because I'm theatrical and everybody expects it of me. People will be angry for a while, then they'll start talking about it, and they'll start wondering why the hell I didn't do it sooner. Then they'll start talking about what I usually do when people attack you, and they'll wonder how they're still alive. Then they'll start talking about how they treated you, and they'll wonder why. Then they'll stop yelling at you."
Akiko, having slipped up against a wall to serve as a purely background observer, smiled.
"I was trying to handle this professionally. Like you keep saying I should. I was trying to be adult about it."
"You were. And it will only stand out more, compared to the way I acted. I'm a performer, Mokuba. I have a reputation to uphold. My reputation was built on fear and arrogance, and I'll be damned if a few years of 'growing up' is going to ruin that." Seto grinned his signature, shark's grin. "People aren't afraid of me anymore. I intend to change that."
Then the grin softened.
"…And if I get to stick up for my little brother at the same time, well, that's just added incentive."
Blizzard has community managers, called "Blues" because of the blue text that marks their messages, on their forums. A few of them are known to get snarky with people, if they get uppity.
Often, these managers are called to task for being unprofessional. They shouldn't act like that, because their job is to be polite, helpful, and professional; and if someone attacks them, they should just ignore it. It isn't their place to be hostile to their customers.
I say balls to that. I celebrate those people who hand out some of what they're dished. Let the community know how it feels. I applaud it. I revere it. I very nearly worship it.
This chapter shows why. Not because it's professional, or because it's effective, or because it should be said. In a perfect world, professionals shouldn't respond like this. But we don't live in a perfect world. The gaming community is getting more and more spoiled and bitchy as time goes on, and I'm getting rather sick of it. So I support those few developers with the cojones to lash out every once in a while.
Because damn it, that's the definition of catharsis.
