a game director calls the studio's lead composer into their office. the composer opens with a jovial & familiar greeting before reading on the director's face that the tenor of this meeting will be grim. "is something wrong?" the composer asks. the director maintains eye contact for a few seconds before sighing deeply and turning to their computer. they bring up an audio file & play it. it's an exceptional high-tempo music track with a pulse-pounding rhythm & a layered, complex polytonality that both excites & satisfies the listener. it's easily the sort of song you could dance to. the director lets it play for about twenty seconds before hitting pause. "that was the track you composed for the final boss," they say quietly. the composer, shoulders bunched inward, licks their lips. "i, um..." they stammer, "is, um, is there an issue with the track?" the director leans forward and says--practically hisses, upset yet desperate-- "you did not need to go this hard."
the composer tries to come up with a response while avoiding eye contact with their evidently offended boss. "im sorry, i dont--" the director interrupts them. "nobody asked you to go this hard. i did not ask you to go this hard. who do you think you are, going behind my back like this?!" the composer, trying not to shrink any deeper into their chair, sputters: "i didnt mean any harm! i just thought that our players would enjoy an exciting music track for the final battle-!!" the director points an accusatory finger and practically spits, "you should know better. we dont make games with music that goes hard--certainly not this hard!" at this point the composer is starting to tear up, but the director doesnt back down. "players know that video game soundtracks dont need to go hard. by composing this track youve put the success of this entire project in jeopardy." breaths shallow, the composer croaks, "im so sorry. i didnt intend any harm."
the director stands up hastily and turns away from the desk, fists balled and quivering. after a second they straighten their shirt and ease their shoulders: when they turn back toward the composer, their expression and demeanour have returned to neutrality. the composer is hunched & pallid, gripping their knees with trembling hands and staring straight down. "take a few minutes to compose yourself," the director says in a frigid tone, "ive got to try and placate the board. investors are already jumping ship. depending on how things go, we may need to meet again in the next several days to discuss your future with this company." the director exits the room without a second glance, leaving the composer to cry alone, gutted by the knowledge that they have not merely failed at their job but betrayed the faith of the one person who ever loved them
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