One Must Imagine Sisyphus Happy

The Tutorial

I'm playing a game again. It works like this. I am the leader of Canada but my title is "Warden." It's a resource management game where Canada is one big ski resort and the challenge is to make a profit. The resort is divided into provinces, each with a governor.

My actions take place in a realistic three-dimensional world, but I am very much aware that it is a game. This is a common theme in my dreams. I guess the most significant aspect of games is that they have a designer. And much like the author of a story, it is the designer who decides, beforehand, what the outcome of the game will be (cf. The Stanley Parable). The players of the game do not determine the outcome, just like the characters in a story do not choose their fate. That's the crucial irony. The players' choices have been carefully framed and scripted to appear like meaningful actions but there's no actual freedom of choice. They are rats on a wheel, or in a cage, or in a maze, or whichever idiom you prefer. The outcome is predetermined.

Back to Canada. The first scenario of this game is a tutorial wherein I learn how things work. We attract skiers who pay fees to use the slopes and also spend money on food, drinks, and après-ski entertainment. As the Warden, I tour the provinces to supervise everything. I wear a big blue watch. When I return to my office, I insert the watch into a console and it turns green. This activates a control screen from which I can administer the resort and view its finances. The most expensive thing (for the business, not the customers) is food. Food is cooked in a centralized location and then distributed to a network of nodes and finally the customers, but each node adds cost and waste. The nodes are connected by carrier pigeons who fly from one to the next, while carrying a plate of food. Other resources work similarly along this network of nodes.

The tutorial ends. It was easy, of course. Now the second scenario begins and things have changed. Several of the provinces have gained independence, so the Canada I am left with has smaller revenues and barely makes a profit. Thinking this is a game, I see that I just need to optimize the operations to earn a larger profit. With enough earnings, I will be able to buy back the other provinces and return to status quo ante. Okay, fine. It's a bit too simple though for my taste.

The Twist

But the game introduces a twist. I receive a threatening phone call from someone we call "the attacker." He claims to have planted an explosive in one of the provinces and wants a ransom of $500 before midnight on the last day of the month. Okay. Again, seeing this all as a game, I'm not alarmed by the threat. It's just a twist that the designer inserted to make the game more interesting. So, in my jaded logic, instead of looking at my choices, I consider the possible scripted outcomes and try to work backward from there.

The most obvious outcome is "game over" and we always want to avoid that, because we are well-trained mice. The bait outcome is to earn at least $500 and pay off the ransom, but we don't really like that either. While it "wins" the scenario, there's no cosmic justice if the attacker succeeds in his ransom plot. Again, I'm looking at it from the point of view of the design. The designer intentionally framed a win condition with undesirable ethical consequences in order to provoke the player to think of a less obvious solution. The player thinks he's "breaking" the game by finding a more clever solution, but without cheating. But the designer knows that players like this idea of "breaking" the game, so he specifically frames the game to allow it. The joke is on you.

And thus, the meta-game begins. I can't lose. Winning the easy way is no fun. While I'm tempted to break the game, I know I can't because the designer has already scripted that. So, I just engage with the creativity of the designer and explore the other possible outcomes.

I could find the attacker and arrest or kill him. Or I could find the explosive and disarm it. Those are viable ideas, but a bit facile. If there was one twist, there will likely be another, so the solution can't be so straightforward. Maybe the attacker has a dead-man's detonator. Or a second backup explosive. With physical danger, the stakes are high. And besides, the core of the game (the ski resort) is about making money, so it seems more likely that the outcome will involve money instead of action.

I think, maybe paying the ransom could be a clever outcome if there's some irony to it. Maybe I could just borrow the money. Or counterfeit it. Or ransom someone else for the money. Rob Peter to pay Paul. Ha, that's kinda clever. Still though, that's the cynical outcome. I'm still hoping to win the game, and out-think the designer, and have my cosmic justice. Besides, there's probably another twist coming. Maybe the attacker will learn of my plot and double the ransom. Or ask for something else besides money, like a vehicle to escape in. Or a bride. Ha, that would be amusing too.

I consider some more "breaking" outcomes. Like, what if I ignore the threat and just let the explosion happen? If the cost to repair the damage is less than the price of the ransom, then doing nothing is the economically "rational" outcome. It's just a resource management game, after all. No one really gets hurt. That's really cynical, but there's something appealing about it. Not cosmic justice, but cosmic irony. Going down the economics path, there's a chance the attacker is bluffing or a hoax. If you can compute the probability of those, you can arrive a more accurate fair value of the ransom, which will be less than $500. So I could build a computer to do that complex logic and let the computer decide if the price is worth paying (cf. War Games; Skynet from Terminator). The outcome may be disaster if it's not a bluff, but there's a self-righteous pleasure in proving that your logic was nonetheless "correct." But no, the designer knows me and he knows I like that cynical game theory stuff. So, that's got be a trap ending.

By now, I've arrived at the conclusion that I probably can't guess the outcome. I can win the game, but the designer has defeated me in the meta-game. Maybe I can redefine winning so that my win will trump his win. What if I win the game multiple times over with a combination of outcomes? Arrest the attacker AND disarm the explosive AND don't pay the ransom even though I still earned enough money to pay it twice over AND prove that my solution was economically "rational" AND restore status quo ante AND have my cosmic justice AND my cosmic irony AND get the girl AND have my cake AND eat it too AND the last laugh AND the kitchen sink. And all without cheating.

The Grind

That was the fun part of the game. Now it is time to let it play out. I analyze the finances of the ski resort and quickly determine that there's no way I can earn $500 with just cashflow. Even if I optimize expenses down to zero, pure revenue wouldn't even be enough. I have to find another way to earn cash. I give up on the "pay the ransom twice over" goal because it's just not viable within the rules of the game. And if I break the rules, then the designer has successfully baited me into cheating and he wins the meta-game. So I do something that is allowed by the game, which is to sell provinces. Looking at my green control panel, they value in range from $100 to $250, so I would have to sell two just to get close and three to be sure. I decide to sell just one and then earn the difference with cashflow.

Next, I set about optimizing the operations for cashflow. This mainly involves re-organizing the food and resource nodes to have less waste and redundancy. I also fire employees and slash salaries to increase profits. I become particularly aware that the most profitable part of the business is not skiing but all the après-ski activities. That hardens my cynicism a bit more, but doesn't stop me from exploiting it.

The Climax

The end of the month and the deadline for the ransom is approaching. I only tell one other character about the ransom. He is one of my provincial governors and I call him "the lieutenant." I enter my office with the lieutenant as midnight nears. Looking at the finances again, I calculate that I will reach $500 very soon but there's an element of randomness so it might happen just before or just after midnight. I know the attacker will call to demand his ransom at the deadline. The fact that we almost-but-dont-quite have the money and we seem willing to pay will get the attacker to negotiate or maybe lure him into a trap. I don't know what the outcome will be, but I played by the rules to get the $500 and now I think I can get the attacker or his explosive for a dramatic finish.

The attacker calls and both I and the lieutenant answer. The attacker taunts me: "Your time is almost up Warden. Where's my money?"

I explain that we don't have it yet but will soon. We just need a little more time.

"C'mon Warden, I've see you with that flashing green watch. You've got the money."

Wait, what? He knows about the watch turning green while I'm in the office? No one but me and the lieutenant should know that! He must be able to see into the office. He might know my whole plan and call my bluff. I get the lieutenant to keep him talking on the line while I duck out of sight. I look under the desk, nothing. I crawl along the ground, searching for hiding spots. I still hear the phone conversation on speaker phone. But now, I hear the attacker's actual voice, slightly out of sync with the speaker. He's in the room!

I pull out my pistol and follow his voice to a nearby bed. I look under and I see him. He has eerie glowing green eyes. He points a gun at me but keeps talking to the lieutenant. In his other hand, he shows me the detonator, a dead-man's switch. I knew it. I can't just kill him. We have to negotiate or get him out into the open.

Now, he gestures with the gun in the direction of the door, like he wants me to cooperate. Is he trying to include me in his plot? I hadn't considered that outcome, joining the enemy for a share of the ransom. Clever, but no cosmic justice. Or maybe he's just afraid and doesn't know what to say. Maybe he's a coward, in way in over his head, looking for a way out. That could work. I decide to follow in the direction of his gesture, which leads me out of the room. Maybe if he sees me willing to cooperate, he'll just give himself up. I'll save the day and then take pity and clemency on him. I hadn't considered that outcome either, by hey now, that's a ton of cosmic justice.

I walk out the door. As I do, the attacker springs up and grabs the lieutenant. He has a hostage now! Good twist, but well in line with some kind of action outcome. The attacker walks out of the office, brandishing his hostage, his gun, and his detonator. I keep my pistol aimed at him, but I can only stare as he backs down a hallway.

At least I have him in the open. I have my watch and use it to call for backup. The other provincial governors rush in, pistols drawn. There's about 10 of them, all dressed in black suits. We now have a standoff. The governors are yelling at the attacker and he yells back. Two of them start to sneak around the attacker. One yells, "Get down Warden!" I dive out of view, so I don't see what happens but I hear a struggle. No gunshots or explosions.

I crawl back into view and see the lieutenant has wrestled away from the attacker and he took the detonator too. That means the attacker is an open target. I see him and in a flash he returns my gaze with those glowing green eyes. It creeps me out, recalling when I first saw him hidden under the bed in the office. Without thinking, I fire one shot at his chest, but it actually hits him in the head, instantly fatal. As his body slumps forward, I now see the rest of him. He was on his knees with his hands up. His gun was on the ground. He had been subdued and was surrendering but I shot him. Horrified, I look as two more bodies behind the attacker fall over too. They are wearing black suits. My shot went through the attacker and hit two of the provincial governors, also fatally.

I look at the lieutenant and the other remaining governors. They don't speak or emote. Just a tense stare for a beat as everyone tries to comprehend what just happened. Then they start to move. Collecting the bodies and beginning the investigation.

The End?

After firing my pistol, it separated into three parts and scattered across the room. I collect the three parts and start to reassemble it. But this is just something to keep my hands busy while I cope with the emotions I am feeling.

I am beset by guilt and uncertainty. I'm not sure if I won the game or not. Maybe this was a technicality. Regardless, now I'm starting to think all that game stuff was all in my head. This wasn't a game. It was a story. And stories have an element that you usually don't find in games: a tragic ending.

No explosion. The attacker dead. I guess that's one brand of justice, thought not the cosmic kind. Two loyal public servants dead. They'll be treated as heroes, but that's little solace for the dead. I saved the $500, but that seems trivial now. The lieutenant seemed the real hero. I don't know what happens to my character. I'm left with the knowledge that the only living people who witnessed what happened are me and the governors. They could defend my actions. Even lie and blame the attacker for taking the shot that killed the other two. Or they could tell the truth and say I shot a man who had surrendered. Only the lieutenant knows about the ransom and the $500. Will he be loyal to me? Maybe we could use the money to bribe any of the witnesses who don't cooperate. To protect myself, I might continue on lying and scheming, but I'll always be stuck with the guilt.

And how did the attacker know about the office and the watch? Only the lieutenant knew that. Maybe its really him behind all this. Et tu, lieutenant? I didn't actually see the struggle when he get himself free. Could it have been staged? To my other complex emotions, I must now add betrayal and paranoia.

I ponder all this as I exit that scene and walk outside. It's a striking mountain landscape. The sun is just rising over the ridge. In a movie, that means the story is just beginning. Another movie trope enters: I hear a voiceover from a local news broadcast, but it's not about the conflict. I found it to be a fittingly ironic tag on the end.

"With the ski season in Canada coming to an end, the snow will soon recede and leave the ski slopes covered in grass. But with some mowing the slopes will be groomed for summer use as..."