Chapter 12: Rock Bottom

On the second day of Gamer-Con, Kathy heeded the subtle warnings from the event officials and sponsors and chose to dress up as a sexy elfin sorceress, in a glittery moss-green flowing gown with sweeping neck and back lines revealing just about every part of her torso but her boobs. Her hair was bound tightly and covered with a violet wig that accented her pointed ears which were heavily adorned with golden sparkly trinkets. She wore hand-crafted leather sandals with delicate laces that weaved up her muscular calves and she accessorized her costume with a belt dagger and a hand-carved, bejeweled wand. It was not lost upon any of them when several other vendors decided to augment their stations with sexily clad vixens as well.

“Not sure if this is a gamer convention or a renaissance fair,” Peter muttered as he set up the three PCs on the table, while Alan and Kat arranged the copied CD-ROMs.

“As long as I’m the sexiest slut around, it’s all good,” Kathy grinned back at him.

“Oh, you’re definitely that,” Alan breathed as he straightened each row of disks. His remark earned him a punch on the shoulder. “Hey!” he grumbled.

“Are you calling me a slut?” she demanded frostily.

“No!” he gasped, feeling the heat in his neck and cheeks. “I’m just...”

She giggled and embraced him in a warm hug. “Aw, it’s okay baby,” she purred as she kissed his cheek. “I know what you meant. I just felt like slugging something.”

“Well, why don’t you slug him?” he grumbled as he turned to see Peter straighten from the last computer.

“Because he wields a mighty weapon,” she whispered with mock severity.

“That’s right,” Peter grinned back. “My plus-five Spear of Penetration.”

Kathy laughed. “Magic Spear,” she corrected, sidling up to him and worming her way into his arms. “Of ‘deep penetration’.”

“I’m gonna be sick,” Alan groaned. He stepped back to examine the booth from a distance.

“Excuse me,” they heard from a nearby spectator. They turned to see a young man in his early twenties with slicked-back brown hair, wearing a casual suit and tie. “Are you the proprietors of this...” he nodded towards the booth with the three monitors displaying different versions of their games, “collaboration?”

Peter paused to glance at Alan who looked back at him with an inquisitive expression and shrug. He turned back to the man and nodded. “Yes, we are,” he replied casually.

Kathy rolled her eyes and extricated herself from his arms. She stepped forward with a radiant smile, holding out her hand. “My apologies for my colleague’s lack of social graces. We don’t let him out much,” she giggled, putting the well-dressed fellow immediately at ease. “This deadpan dude is Peter Shipley, our President and founder of PAK Gaming,” she introduced as he shook her hand delicately. “And that baby-faced guy is Alan Shoemaker, our Chief Programmer.” Alan blushed at her accolades and held his hand out awkwardly. She stepped back and tilted her head endearingly. “I’m Kathy, Marketing Director, and sexy slut.”

The man cleared his throat awkwardly and then handed her a business card. “I’m pleased to meet you all,” he said. “My name is Jason Abernathy and I work for Orca Games, Incorporated. Perhaps you are familiar with some of our products?”

Peter took the card when it was offered, studied it, and passed it on to Alan. “Oh definitely,” he replied as he stepped forward and shook hands. “Sorry about that,” he added. “You are based here in Seattle, I believe. You have kiosks in the Malls and your games are for sale in all the big electronic stores on those rotating wire displays.” He noticed Kathy turning to fetch the folding chairs from behind the display table and helped her set them up in the front. They arranged them so that Jason could sit facing the three of them. “How can we help you?”

“Well, actually...” he cleared his throat once more. “I was wondering if perhaps I could help you.”

The three looked at each other with raised eyebrows and turned back to the man. “How do you mean?” Kathy asked for them all.

“I work in acquisitions,” he explained. “My job is to offer incentives to gamers to allow us to license their products and market them under our company logo.”

“So, you want to purchase our games?” Peter asked.

Jason grimaced and gestured innocently with his hand. “Think of it as more of a product lease, or a partnership. We would purchase the licensing rights for your game and any future updates and then offer your games on a global scale. I know it sounds dodgy but I assure you we are very legitimate and have been doing business with game developers like yourselves all over the country, and internationally as well.

“With our global marketing system, you could see your products selling all over the world. You wouldn’t have to stay up all night making and shipping copies of the games from your basement, and you wouldn’t have to deal with any marketing or licensing disputes that might arise from trademark infringements. We would handle all of that,” he smiled brightly. “While you could concentrate on doing what you do best — make awesome games, and collect royalty checks.”

The three were quiet as they regarded each other, waiting for someone to pose a question or make a comment.

Peter finally cleared his throat and sat forward. “So, we produce games, which you in turn sell for us and you handle all of the grunt work involved with copying, labeling, and shipping?” he asked adroitly.

Jason pursed his lips together and nodded sagely. “That pretty much sums it up. Naturally, we will require a percentage of the sales to cover our cost for marketing and production expenses.”

“How much of a percentage?” Alan asked abruptly.

Jason shrugged. “That would ultimately be decided in contract negotiations but I would venture to guess that you would be entitled to anywhere from eight to fifteen percent of all sales, depending on the product and its popularity.”

“FIFTEEN percent?” he replied incredulously. “That’s only 68 cents per game ... split three ways!” He sounded deeply insulted by the suggestion.

Kathy regarded him and then looked back at the businessman shrewdly. “Is that accurate?” she asked guardedly. “You would only pay us less than a dollar for each of our games?”

Jason sat straighter and pursed his lips together before replying. “I know that seems like extortion...”

“You got that right,” Alan grumbled with his arms crossed.

“ ... but you have to understand that this is the nature of marketing and distribution,” he replied calmly. “Take any product ... I don’t care what — cars, toys, or even books for instance. Stephen King is a huge author and every one of his books winds up on the New York Times best-seller list. But he only gets about two to three dollars per copy sold. That’s roughly fifteen percent.” He looked at each of their faces to judge their receptiveness. “Take cooking,” he added. “You have surely seen Justin Wilson’s Louisiana Cookin’ show, right?”

“I gay-run-tee it,” Peter snickered.

Jason nodded with a grin. “Just last year there was this lady named Trudy ... something, and she had this really good hot sauce that she tried to sell, but no one was interested until Justin Wilson tried it and agreed to sell it under his name. Now she is snow-birding in Tasmania and living like royalty. And she only makes thirty cents a bottle!”

He put both of his hands on his knees, preparing to stand. “Just think about it for a while,” he said getting to his feet. “You have my card ... do you perchance have one?” he inquired as he shook hands again. Alan plucked one out of his pocket quickly and handed it over. “Thank you,” he said as he stepped back. “Enjoy the last day of the convention. By the way, I love Pinball Wizard.” He turned and left them looking after him as he disappeared into the crowd of people who were just being allowed into the center.

“I don’t know about all that,” Alan grumbled as he rearranged the chairs for visitors.

“Dude! Are you kidding me?” Peter exclaimed. “That’s the whole reason we came here, man. To get exposure.”

Alan grimaced and nodded submissively. “I suppose. It is kinda nice to be recognized by one of the big players.”

“Think of it,” Kathy replied as she smiled at another scantily clad vixen dressed up as a character from Tron. “If they take our games and market them globally, they could potentially sell ... thousands of copies a day! Say they manage to sell... 300,000 copies of Oingo Bingo for $2.99 each...”

“That would be $59,850 for each of us,” Alan replied absently.

She grinned at Peter who raised an eyebrow back at her. “And then another 450,000 copies of Zombie Slots...”

“$112,500 each,” Alan replied rolling his eyes.

“ ... and 348,900 copies of Pinball Wizard...”

“$78,502,” the Asian sensation sighed as he adjusted his glasses. “Apiece.”

Kathy cried out delightedly and clapped her hands as she bounced over to him and hugged him tightly, scrunching his frames crookedly on his face. “Ooh I just love that sexy brain of yours!” she giggled.

“Well, I vote for meeting with them to see what their final offer is,” Peter stated as he turned on his tower PC and began booting it up. “We can always walk away.”

“I second,” Kathy quipped eagerly as she saluted the domed roof of the Coliseum, causing her breasts to bounce within her bodice.

Alan started to open his mouth and she pressed a finger over it. “You’re outvoted.”

He grabbed her hand with a frown and pulled it away. “I was going to say, ‘yes’,” he grumbled. “I’m going to get a coffee.” He turned away.

“Get me one too!” Peter called after him with a grin.

“Me three!” Kathy yelled. “Lots of cream and sugar! Please!”

“I need to call Jeremiah and see if he can come with us to this meeting,” Peter said as he produced his cell phone.

The ‘meeting’ actually took place that afternoon as the convention was wrapping up and vendors began breaking down their booths. Peter, Kat, and Alan had already loaded most of their equipment and props into the ugly green Travelall that she borrowed from one of her uncles. The table with its cheap curtain-fabric cover remained as well as several chairs, some of which were collected from other vendors’ areas. Besides Jason, there were two other men and a well-dressed woman seated across from them. Jeremiah graced them with his presence and sat to the side reviewing a copy of the preliminary proposed contract. Peter’s sister Veronica had joined them to help pack up and stood quietly next to the Financial Planner, reading over his shoulder. The older man was introduced as Sherman Podopolous, the Chief Financial Officer for Orca Games, Inc., and the woman as Margaret Downing, Director of Marketing and Research. The other gentleman present was a corporate attorney named Douglas Frenner.

After introductions were made, copies of the business proposal were passed around. Kathy glanced through hers while she watched the expressions and behaviors of the people across from her. Alan bent over his copy and studied it word for word, while Peter read the fourteen-page document entirely in under a minute. He even marked the margins and underlined several items as he went.

“Excuse me,” he said glancing up from the pages spread out around him. “I’m only a kid and this sort of thing is kind of new to me.” The adults across from him smiled patiently at his words. “Could you please explain a couple of things to me?”

“Certainly, young man,” Mr. Podopolous replied in a deep voice with a faint Mediterranean accent. He removed his spectacles and produced a linen cloth to buff them.

“Well, it says here ... something about ‘future intellectual property’, and it seems as though you are suggesting that you would have licensing rights to it. Please explain that,” he said sitting up straight.

The CFO and marketing director maintained neutral expressions, while Jason Abernathy appeared flushed and contrite, like a kid who got caught shoplifting. The lawyer sat forward and sniffed disdainfully.

“Certainly,” he began. “It is simply a standard clause that grants the corporation first rights of refusal for anything you happen to produce in the future.”

“Anything?” Alan gawked back at the man with his mouth open.

“Games,” Jason interjected quietly, earning him several heavy stares from his colleagues. “You would be giving us the right to accept or decline any future games.” His voice faded as he felt the stifling presence of his peers.

“That’s not the way I’m reading this,” Jeremiah spoke up as he waved the document in the air. “There ain’t no mention of any ‘first rights of refusal’ or any quantitative delineation of said ‘intellectual property’.” He tapped his silver shod cane on the hard tile floor, causing it to clack loudly. “As far as I can tell these folks are claiming anything and everything you create, build, or dream up from now until the day you die, whether it be a computer program, flying car, or a better mousetrap.”

Peter nodded and began purposefully crossing out large blocks of the text in the document. “That’s sort of what I got out of reading this,” he said as he reorganized the document and handed it across to the woman who sat in front of him. “At first when we met with Mr. Abernathy this morning, I felt like this could be a potential opportunity for me and my partners.” He deliberately stood and folded his metal chair before leaning it against the table. “But now I think perhaps our fortunes lay elsewhere.”

Alan snorted and simply shoved his copy back across the table while Kathy did the same but more delicately.

“Perhaps, you can approach us with a more reasonable offer next time,” Peter suggested, “Before a competitor does. Otherwise, we must respectfully decline. Thank you, gentleman,” he nodded toward the lone female, “Madam.” The other two rose signaling the abrupt end to the discussion, leaving the corporate officers sitting alone and looking back at them in bewilderment. Jason just looked shamefully at his feet as he waited for one of them to take the lead and depart.

Several minutes later Jeremiah chuckled as he watched them leave. “You’d think they ain’t used to rejection.”

“I feel dirty just sitting across from them,” Kathy complained, crossing her arms and rubbing her shoulders.

“Welcome to the world of capitalism,” Peter replied sagely as he gathered up one of their last boxes. “From now on we be swimming in shark-infested waters.”

An hour and a half later — after dropping Alan off at his home, they pulled up to Peter’s house and found a King County Sheriff’s car waiting alongside the street. The uniformed officer got out as they pulled into the driveway and parked. Veronica followed close behind in her cherry-red Beetle.