>>Error. Line 472. NullPointerException.
"Why won't you work?" Giri massaged his temples, the pressure building behind his eyes. The compile window remained unchanged, refusing to cooperate.
The "Awakened" update for Aeonalus Primordials sat unfinished, the project he'd poured five years of his life into. Under normal circumstances, he'd take his time to properly debug the issue. But SolarTech's deadline loomed over him like a guillotine.
The corporate suits who now owned his creative vision cared little for his role as the original creator. Their buzzwords from the last meeting echoed in his mind - synergistic market integration, monetization strategies. Empty phrases that meant nothing to someone who just wanted to make games people would enjoy.
His chair creaked as he leaned back. If only the financial pressure hadn't forced his hand. If only his team hadn't crumbled - Moriya driven away by empty pockets, Shizuka suffocated by SolarTech's creative restrictions. Their absences left holes no corporate oversight could fill.
"More optimized," they'd said to Shizuka. The memory of her frustrated tears still haunted him.
The ceiling offered no answers as Giri slumped in his chair. The long exhale that escaped his lips carried the weight of his resignation.
His fingers found his phone, muscle memory guiding him through his contacts until he reached "Tuna" - Moriya's nickname. The call connected with a soft chime.
"Yo, Tuna," Giri said when the call connected.
"Hey, Giri! What's up?" Moriya's voice crackled on the line, warmth washing over Giri.
"Just running into a brick wall with this latest update. I figured I'd vent to someone who understands and maybe calm myself down"
Moriya chuckled. "SolarTech driving you crazy with their buzzwords again?"
"You have no idea!" Giri sighed, "if I hear 'synergistic market integration' one more time, I might start talking in ones and zeroes."
A chuckle escaped Moriya. "Ah, classic. Remember when Shizuka's textures went haywire and all the dragons' heads twisted backward as they moved? Those were good times."
"Yeah, simpler times," Giri said, a tinge of melancholy in his voice. "Now we can't even make a game without worrying about market trends."
"Sounds rough," Moriya said, his voice laced with sympathy. "So, what's the issue with Awakened specifically?"
"VR integration is giving me nightmares," Giri admitted. "And they're using this new AI for the dynamic world system… it's powerful, but it's also opaque. I'm trying to tweak the UI to handle the new data flow, but I keep getting one error after another..."
"Have you forgotten the ritual?" Moriya's voice echoed in his mind. "You need to offer the code with ramen and coffee!"
Memories washed over Giri like a gentle tide. Three years ago, in his cramped apartment, they'd huddled around his ancient coffee table. Moriya, headphones perpetually around his neck, tweaking sound effects until the dragon roars shook the walls. Shizuka, her tablet pen dancing across the screen, breathing life into every creature they imagined.
The Primodials had emerged from their collective dreams. Each elemental guardian took shape under their hands - majestic creatures that would protect the realm of Aeonalus. They'd spent countless nights debating magic systems, creature behaviors, and how players would interact with this world they'd built.
"Remember when we were planning the Earth Primodial?" Giri asked, a smile tugging at his lips. "You insisted on recording actual earthquake sounds."
"Hey, authenticity matters!" Moriya laughed. "Though maybe breaking that flower pot was a bit much."
The memory of Shizuka's departure stung fresh. Her last words echoed in his mind: "They don't want an artist, they want a machine." She'd refused to compromise her vision, walking away when SolarTech's demands became too suffocating.
"Yeah, things were... simpler back then. We had to fix bugs with duct tape and prayers," Giri replied, his voice heavy.
Now he sat in SolarTech's sterile office, his title of "Consultant" feeling like a hollow mockery among Game Design Team. They'd denied him the Producer role or even Project Manager, citing lack of experience. Even his position as Lead Programmer felt more like a courtesy than real authority.
His latest proposal for a dynamic weather system lay buried under corporate rejection. The responses still burned: "Wouldn't address their 'pain points'" and "Support revenue goals."
The choice had been brutal - abandon his dream entirely or let SolarTech take control. He'd chosen the latter, hoping to preserve some fragment of their original vision. But some days, like today, he wondered if he'd made the right choice.
"Hey," Giri said, a hint of nervous energy underlying his hopeful tone. "With this Awakened expansion… it's a big one. We're really pushing the tech. It'd be… amazing to have you back on board. Even just as a consultant. We could get the old team back together, even if just for a little bit."
There was a brief pause on the other end of the line.
"Thanks, Giri," Moriya said finally, his voice carefully neutral. "I appreciate the offer. But… I'm pretty tied up with things right now. Got a lot on my plate. It's like I'm grinding in a different game now."
"Oh," Giri said, a flicker of disappointment in his voice. "Right. Well, if anything changes…"
"Yeah, sure," Moriya said, a little too quickly. "Tell me more about this VR integration... maybe I can offer some sound design ideas, even if I'm not officially on the team anymore. I still remember the sound of the Primordial's roar."
Giri allowed a small smile to flicker across his face. "That roar was a masterpiece, Moriya. You really outdid yourself with it. If I could replicate the impact it had…" He trailed off, realizing he was falling into nostalgia. "Anyway, I'll send over some of the current build notes. Give them a look when you've got time."
"Will do," Moriya replied. His voice carried a hint of something unspoken, but Giri decided not to press further. "Giri... don't let them stress you out too much, okay? You've done more for the project than anyone else."
Giri felt a flicker of gratitude, but also the weight of those words. "Thanks, Moriya. Take care of yourself out there."
"You too," Moriya replied, and the call ended.
He sat there for a moment, staring at the phone in his hand. Moriya's hesitation gnawed at him. It wasn't like him to hold back, and the entire conversation felt off. Giri's thoughts spiraled as the uneasy atmosphere within SolarTech crept into his mind again: whispers in the hallways, sudden closed-door meetings, and the vague sense that he was being edged out of the Aeonalus Primordial project.
His phone buzzed in his hand, jarring him from his thoughts. A new number flashed across the screen. Hanna.
He answered. "Hey, Sis."
"Giri," his sister's voice came through, a mix of apology and forced cheerfulness. "Hey, how's it going?"
"You know," Giri said. "Working on an big update. Hitting some snags. So I'm just taking a break."
A brief pause. Giri knew what was coming. It was the same conversation they had every month, a ritual of excuses and understanding.
"Listen," Hanna began, her voice softening. "About Mom's visit this month… I'm so sorry, but with Tiny… things have been crazy. I just don't think I can make it."
Giri closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling slowly. He got it—Hanna was a marketing professor, a PhD holder juggling a newborn and a family of her own. She had her hands full; he couldn't hold it against her. And yet… it always came down to him. "It's okay, Sis," he said, his voice carrying a quiet fatigue. "I understand."
"I really am sorry," Hanna insisted. "I'll send you the money for the visit and some extra for a gift. Just… tell her I said hi. And that I'll try my best to come next month, I promise."
"I will," Giri said. A thought struck him. "Hey, speaking of Tiny… how's she doing? Has she started… you know… call her uncle anything yet?"
Hanna giggled. "Oh, you're so eager, aren't you? Well… she's started babbling a lot more. It's mostly gibberish, but sometimes… sometimes it sounds a little like uncle 'Gi-Gi.'"
Giri's lips curved into a genuine smile for the first time that day. "Gi-Gi? Really?"
"Yeah," Hanna said, her voice warm. "It's adorable. She'll grab at the phone when I'm talking to you. I think she recognizes your voice."
"I'd like to see her in person soon," Giri murmured. "I haven't even held her yet."
"I know," Hanna said, her voice laced with sympathy. "It's been tough. But I promise, Giri, as soon as things settle down a bit, you're coming over. We'll have a proper family get-together."
"I'd like that," Giri said. He paused. "So… Gi-Gi, huh?" He chuckled softly. "I like it."
"Me too," Hanna said. "She's a little sweetheart. You're going to love her."
"I already do," Giri said.
"Thanks, Giri," Hanna said, her voice filled with relief. "You're the best. I'll talk to you soon."
"Yeah, you too," Giri said, ending the call. He stared at his phone, smiling faintly. The thought of his niece calling him "Gi-Gi" warmed him, briefly lifting the weight of his day. But reality crept back—deadlines, unfinished code, and relentless work demands.
He settled into his chair, savoring the warmth of Hanna's call for a moment. Then, sighing, he turned to his monitor, where lines of code waited like an unsolved puzzle.
Hours melted together in a haze of coffee and determination. The keyboard's rhythmic clicks filled the silent room as night waned.
Golden sunlight striped his cluttered desk. Giri's head drooped, his breath shallow with fatigue. He mumbled, "Just... five more minutes," before collapsing onto the keyboard. The impact scattered cookies and triggered system alerts. His coffee mug tipped, spilling across the desk. The liquid missed his keyboard but drenched his sleeve.
His phone's ring jerked him awake. Dazed, with keyboard marks on his cheek, he surveyed the mess—coffee puddle, crumbs, and precarious notes. He wiped his sticky hand on his shirt before grabbing the phone to answer the team's group chat.
He answered, his voice still thick with sleep. "Hello?"
"Giri! You there?" It was Kenji, one of the junior programmers. Normally calm and methodical, Kenji sounded uncharacteristically excited and a little worried.
"Mmm… yeah," Giri mumbled, rubbing his eyes and wiping cookie dust on his already stained shirt. "What's up?"
"Big news!" Kenji said. "There's a meeting this morning. Someone from SolarTech's tech team is coming to show off their new gen VR headgear. The one they're going to use for Awakened."
Giri sat up straight, instantly awake, ignoring his wet sleeve. Seriously? Today? A wave of worry hit him. This was big. Awakened was his project, five years of relentless effort distilled into a single vision. It wasn't just a game; it was his magnum opus—a world where every element bore his creative fingerprint. Every system, every storyline, every fragment of code bore his personal touch. Now SolarTech was going to use their new tech on it. I just hope they don't mess it up.
"Yeah, they just called. They want everyone there. It's a big deal. They said someone important will be there too."
"Important, huh?" Giri glanced from the coffee spill to his screen. He sighed, scattering cookie crumbs as he ran a hand through his hair. "I'll be there soon. Need to clean up first."