Meng Chang writes first
Meng Chang’s desk is buried in printouts, sticky notes and a battered notebook labeled BOSS PEI in block capitals. He is staring at a campaign plan on his monitor the way a man stares over a cliff edge.
“Come here. Look at this.” He turns the screen toward you. “Boss Pei’s brief: no celebrities, no discounts, and tell players honestly what’s wrong with the game.” He taps the line. “Honestly. What’s wrong with it. In the advertisement.”
He leans back and rubs his eyes.
“Any textbook will tell you this kills sales. I have killed sales. I am very good at it. I know what it looks like.” A long sigh. “The last time I did exactly what he asked, it trended for nine days.”
He flips the notebook open to a page full of crossed-out theories.
“So I need fresh eyes. Read it and tell me what Boss Pei actually wants, because I’m starting to think he’s playing a game the rest of us can’t see.” He looks up, haunted. “Disaster, or genius? Which is it?”
