Constellation Games (2 page)

Hey, you know what's bullshit? Pretty much everything about this contact mission. It's been over a week and I haven't talked to one extraterrestrial.

I signed up for an appointment with the Constellation Library, and got an appointment for time zero plus one month. That's not one month from now—it's one after the government gets off its ass and builds a Library building in Austin! So, creepy hive-mind Wikipedia is out.

A couple hours after I posted that, social network notifications lit up my screen with flashing lights like a white trash neighborhood in mid-January. This was my big break, I thought. I just needed to act fast. I needed an internal combustion engine.

ABlum:
bai
the constellation is sending down small spacecraft
RIGHT NOW
they want people to come up to the space station
like the astronauts did
you need to pick up me+jenny so we can hit the landing site
i reiterate: RIGHT NOW
KThxBai:
hey bro.
that would be awesome, except i'm at work.
where i work.
so i can pay for the car i use to drive you around.
can we do it at 5:30?
ABlum:
at 5:30 i will be walking on the fucking moon
and the line to the austin shuttle will be a million people long

ABlum:
jenny
the constellation is sending down small spacecraft
RIGHT NOW
they want people to come up to the space station
OMJennyG:
Hi
ABlum:
like those scientists did
we need to ride over to the landing site (~15 mi)
i reiterate: RIGHT NOW
bai can't make it because of some "work" thing
OMJennyG
OK sounds good
ABlum:
i'll bring leftovers
who knows what kind of food they have up there
OMJennyG:
I have leftover cue from Eddie's bday party

We joined a pack of other cyclists at the onramp. Five miles out, a thick stream of cars started passing us up, plus the occasional overhead helicopter. Eight miles out we passed those same cars, now stalled in a traffic jam, honking their horns. Twelve miles out, we encountered a select group of assholes who'd decided to take their cars over the fence into the bike lane and spread the traffic jam there.

"We may not get to the moon today," said Jenny.

Some of the bicyclists turned around; others walked their bikes through the traffic jam. We walked ours over another wrecked fence through the mud onto the grass, and ate lunch on top of a hill.

"It's only a couple miles away," I said. "Maybe we can at least see the ships land."

"Who's that?" said Jenny, and pointed. It was an old hippie with a walking stick, heading through the meadow
away
from the landing site, back towards Austin.

"Oh, geez," I said.

"Don't be picky," said Jenny. "Maybe he saw something. Watch my bike." She got up and ran off to flag the hippie down.

The hippie was about seventy, real wiry and muscular, naval tattoos up and down his arms. Classic local color. The first thing he said to me was: "Ya know, that used to be a living thing."

I looked up from my spare rib. "Uh, yeah," I said, "it's barbecue."

"There's coleslaw and potato salad," Jenny told him. "Corn on the cob." Hippie allowed as how he would eat some coleslaw, and crouched on the grass.

"What's it like over there?" asked Jenny.

"Just what you'd think," said the hippie. "National Guard, spooks, NASA, Homeland Security, all fallin' into each other's assholes." Another helicopter flew overhead.

"So they're not even letting us in," said Jenny.

"They're not
guarding
it," said the hippie, "except by accident, by sheer numbers. They're arguing over jurisdiction. Bunch of lions fighting over a zebra carcass." He nodded at the sticky beef rib in my hands. "No offense."

"Don't bring NASA into your wildlife analogies," I said. "NASA's the good guys."

"NASA has always been a civilian fig leaf for the militarization of space."

"Dude!" I said, "Nobody eats my coleslaw and disses NASA." I always thought when the police blotter said a fight started over a "philosophical dispute", it was a euphemism, but maybe not.

"My coleslaw," said Jenny.

The hippie gave Jenny a look like: whoa, that was the last straw for
that
guy! "I was part of a civilian weapons inspection team in the nineties," he said. "You want to get in there? Go home, come back with a suit in a dry cleaning bag. Change when you get there, come out from behind one of the towncars, act like you belong there."

"Sounds like a good way to get shot," said Jenny.

"Well, go on and live a little," said the hippie. "I probably won't live to see it, but you kids are going to see the end of the human race."

"Why are you so cynical?" I said. "This isn't an alien invasion. They're friendly. You think they're pretending to be nice so they can eat us?"

"Intentions don't matter," said the hippie. "Read your history. Any time there's a first contact, the contactees end up dead."

The cars stopped honking and some car doors opened. "Here comes a ship," said Jenny.

The hippie turned and we watched the bullet-shaped shuttle drop whining out of the sky. A thing designed by people from other planets and made from pieces of our moon: superstructured glass and cerametal. The shuttle flared and landed silently behind a rise.

"Why'd you go to the landing site?" I asked the hippie. "You must have been the first one there. You want to get wiped out first?"

The hippie kicked back the leftover vinegar like a shot. "'M curious," he said. "We're all curious. That's what gets us killed." He stood up. "Thanks for the coleslaw. Better get back." He picked up his stick and headed towards Austin.

"Man," I said when the hippie was out of earshot, "I thought hippies were supposed to be all optimistic and shit."

We ate our cold barbecue. The cars resumed honking and trying to turn around. Before too long the shuttle took off again, rising like the chorus of a song, empty.

Smoke-ccsspm-6be8
Hello, Ariel. I am a submind of Smoke, Ring City's general-purpose cognition engine.
My cognitive address is Smoke-Cursive-Cytoplasm-Snakebite-Singsong-Polychromatic-Musteline.
In a recent email, you asked to be matched with a member of the contact expedition. I'm evaluating your application.
Please answer questions with YES or NO. Do you understand?
ABlum:
NO
Smoke-ccsspm-6be8:
My supermind tells me you're being sarcastic, so I'll continue.
Sometimes two humans have the same name. I think I know which Ariel Blum you are, but tell me if I'm wrong.
I think you're the human partially or wholly responsible for the following works of art:

• "Recoil"
  
• "Pôneis Brilhantes 4: Problemas com Pôneis"
  
• "Me and Sonic at the Amusement Park"
  

Is this right?
ABlum:
man, i wrote that sonic fanfic in junior high school
Smoke-ccsspm-6be8:
Please answer YES or NO.
ABlum:
YEEEEEEES
YES
[Smoke-ccsspm6be8 is now offline.]
ABlum:
wtf

Smoke-ccssp-65290:
Hello, Ariel.
My cognitive address is Smoke-Cursive-Cytoplasm-Snakebite-Singsong-Polychromatic.
One of my subminds recommended that I talk to you.
Please answer in English prose. Do not use idioms.
ABlum:
where did the other guy go?
Smoke-ccssp-65290:
I don't know who you're referring to.
My Musteline submind is busy identifying other people.
My supermind is waiting to speak with you, pending the resolution of some concerns regarding your treatement of fictional characters.
Shall we begin?
ABlum:
hey, some of my best friends are fictional characters
most of them, actually
Smoke-ccssp-65290:
What was your role in the creation of "Recoil"?
ABlum:
uh
i mostly worked on the enemy ai
so if you think about it, i was actually on the side of the fictional characters for that one
Smoke-ccssp-65290:
In "Me and Sonic at the Amusement Park", why did you connect a fictional person to an electrical generator, in violation of Article 6 of your planet's Universal Declaration of Human Rights?
ABlum:
i don't remember that
but probably because i was in fucking junior high
and i didn't know how electricity works
[Smoke-ccssp-65290 is now offline.]

Smoke-ccss-b85b07:
Hello, Ariel. My cognitive address is Smoke-Cursive-Cytoplasm-Snakebite-Singsong. One of my subminds recommended that I talk to you.
Please answer in English prose. You may use idioms.
ABlum:
hi, smoke-cursive-cytoplasm-snakebite-singsong
Smoke-ccss-b85b07:
Tell me about a time when you did something evil.
ABlum:
oh gee
well
sometimes i work too hard
is that evil?
Smoke-ccssb85b07:
Sarcasm ignored.
ABlum:
ok um
when i started college, my brother raph pressured me to join the ut austin chapter of his fraternity
and i joined, only to discover that fraternities are the stupidest forms of social organization ever invented
so, live and learn
but
at the end of the fall semester, one of my frat brothers offered to pay me to write his final history paper
and i did it
but i didn't want to get caught, so i read his earlier papers and put a lot of work into imitating his shitty writing
which made the paper a d+ at best
so he failed the class
and i wouldn't give the money back
so they made up an honor code violation and kicked me out of the frat
and at the time i remember thinking "this has worked out surprisingly well"
so, i don't know what you consider "evil"
but i'm sure you can find it somewhere in there
[Smoke-ccss-b85b07 is now offline.]
ABlum:
well bye

Smoke-ccssp-65290:
Smoke-Cursive-Cytoplasm-Snakebite-Singsong-Polychromatic here again.
What would it take to get you to kill someone?
ABlum:
fuck's sake
i'm not killing anyone
Smoke-ccssp-65290:
Good.
[Smoke-ccssp-65290 is now offline.]

Smoke-ccs-762d:
Well, if it isn't Mr. Sarcasm.
ABlum:
YES
Smoke-ccs-762d:
Don't quit your day job.
I'm Smoke-Cursive-Cytoplasm-Snakebite.
Let's get down to business.
In your initial email, you said that you want to write reviews of electronic games from the Constellation.
ABlum:
yeah
Smoke-ccs-762d:
Before I connect you with one of our anthropologists, I'd like to see you write a review of a human game.
ABlum:
there are like 50 reviews on my blog
Smoke-ccs-762d:
I've read your blog.
To eliminate confounding variables, I'll need you to review a game that no one else has ever reviewed.
ABlum:
have you seen the internet?
that's a pretty tall order
why don't you have me write some more sonic fanfic?
Smoke-ccs-762d:
I'm confident you can rise to your occasion.
I'll be watching your blog, Ariel.
[Smoke-ccs-762d is now offline.]
ABlum:
hello?
guess that's it

GAME REVIEWS OF WARMED-OVER RESENTMENT 2.0 PRESENTS
Quexx
(2012)
A game by Reflex Games
Reviewed by Ariel Blum

Publisher:
unknown (in-universe), Reflex Games (real life)
Platforms:
Primary Fire Control Mainframe (in-universe), Xbox Forever/PS4 (real life)
ESRB rating:
M for getting headshot while playing

Most people who go through
Temple Sphere
's story mode will come out thinking that
Quexx
is a fictional game-within-a-game like frungy, Imperial Marzai, or Pinochle With Guns: frequently mentioned within the game but having no official rules. These people are dead wrong.

Quexx
is an action puzzle game that, as you'll overhear if you play
Temple Sphere
, is sweeping the Tool of Justice space fleet and causing huge productivity loss. The Tool warrior caste is twiddling switches back and forth to release colored bubbles, instead of twiddling the switches that kill humans with lasers. This goes a long way towards explaining why they rarely notice you sneaking around their spaceships.

Snoop on enemy transmissions with your spacesuit radio. Along with useful information about whatever mission you're on, you'll hear Tool command-castes bitching about how much time the warrior caste is wasting on
Quexx
, and warrior-castes swapping strategies.

That's as deep as most people go. Even pro game reviewers are being paid to review
Temple Sphere
, not
Quexx
. But I'm not being paid, and my future as a reviewer of Constellation games depends on reviewing a game that's never before been reviewed
as a game
. So I'll tell you that within
Temple Sphere's
infiltration path you can play
Quexx
from any vacant Tool of Justice workstation. It's called "Multidimensional Fluid Simulation" to hide it from the officers. There's even a boss screen inside the game, showing fake battle telemetry. That's a boss screen for a game played on a simulated computer inside another game running on a real computer.

The game itself is a clever variant on the combo-matching mechanic that has been hijacking humans' pleasure centers for twenty-five years now. Bubbles line up behind gates. You open and shut the gates, guiding the bubbles into a reaction chamber where they interact in pleasing or horrible ways. There's no opponent, but since one switch controls up to three gates, you'll find yourself taking punishment for almost every bonus you recieve.

The big problem with
Quexx
is that there's nothing alien about the game. It would be perfectly at home as a ninety-nine-cent downloadable on HitBrick. Now that there are real extraterrestrials living in lunar orbit, it's time to hold fictional ETs to a higher standard. It seems strange that intelligent birds in a religious caste-based dictatorship would develop the same games as a human sitting in a cubicle in Austin or San Mateo.

When I first heard about
Quexx
I admit I took it as a personal affront. I thought it was my former co-workers' way of mocking me for leaving Reflex for the world of short-term consulting contracts and femme-y "casual" games. It may seem silly to suspect Reflex of putting so much manpower into an Easter egg just to mock a former employee, but if you'd worked with these guys there's not much you'd put past them.

And then
Give 'Em Hell III
came out, with the French kids and all their street games, and I mellowed a little—Reflex devs love screwing each other over, but they also love running jokes. Games-within-games are just their latest joke.

And while it may not fit perfectly with the
Temple Sphere
backstory,
Quexx
is a real game, not a parody. It's polished and playable, and the strategies you hear from the Tool transmissions are actually good strategies. (Pro tip: clear out the Tool ship before starting to
Quexx
, or you'll get a laser bolt through the head before you even finish the tutorial.) It's almost like the game-within-a-game is an outlet for the Reflex devs' creativity as they crank out a game with identical mechanics every sixteen months.

(Confidential to Smoke: all your civilization's games could get this same gushing treatment! Or, if your games are terrible, I can also do funny-angry reviews, which humans really go for.)