CURE-ALL // Chapter 8
Six years ago, when he found himself in the middle of a recession, Anand, an experienced backend developer, was forced to oin CG Games at the bottom of the pyramid: a game testing executive. Battle of Osiris was his first game.
The recession hit like a thunderstorm, leaving everyone cowering under whatever shelter they could find. Doctors became shopkeepers. Accountants, waiters. Engineers, cabbies. Pre-recession, Anand was at the e-commerce giant, a well-paid, equity-holding employee. But the value of his skills soon evaporated when the whole tech world up and shifted to a new language seemingly, to him at least, overnight, just as the recession hit.
He had himself touted the importance of developers keeping up with the changing tides of the tech world, and programming in a single language not being a skill-set in and of itself, and the importance of being relevant, and what-not. When he was fired, he found that he’d been paying little more than lip-service to ideas he found online.
He needed the money; he was, after all, going to get married soon. Plus, what kind of investment banker’s parents wanted an unemployed son-in-law? Worse, what kind of recession-immune genius wanted a do-nothing husband? He’d soon realise that a game tester fiancé was also a bridge too far for Kriti. She left him right when Battle of Osiris was released, but hey, he reasoned, it isn’t my fault that she looks down on game testing; it’s good work. Bullet dodged.
The day after being dumped, he walked up to Gianni, requested him to throw open the codebase for Osiris. I’ll sign whatever waiver, whatever clause, whatever bond you want me to sign. I want to make games. Gianni told him about game engines, about how CG Games had a proprietary engine, meaning that while a lot of what he might learn would be transferable, most of it wouldn’t be. About how his background as a developer would be helpful, but this was a whole different cup of tea. Don’t worry, Anand said, non-transferable is a step up from obsolete.