The sleek, glass-walled breakout zone of Nexus Interactive on the 14th floor of Cyber Towers usually hummed with the quiet, intellectual sounds of coding: the click-clack of mechanical keyboards, the soft scratching of styluses on tablets, and the occasional murmur of "Why is this compiling error happening?"
Today, however, it sounded like a war zone.
"MARK HIM! MARK HIM! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, KARTHIK, SLIDE TACKLE!"
"I'm trying, Boss! The button! It's stuck! The X button is sticky!"
"DON'T GIVE ME EXCUSES! GIVE ME DEFENSE!"
Siddanth Deva, the World T20 Champion, the Man of the Series, the "Devil of Cricket," was currently standing—not sitting, standing—in front of a 50-inch plasma TV, clutching an Xbox 360 controller so hard the white plastic was creaking.
His face, usually a mask of ice-cool composure in front of 50,000 screaming fans, was currently a portrait of pure, unadulterated gamer rage.
The score was 1-4.
It was the 75th minute.
And he was losing. Badly.
On the plush beanbags opposite him sat the opposition: Arjun, grinning like a hyena, and Rohan, the UI/UX Lead, who looked terrified to be winning against the man who signed his paycheck but was also enjoying the destruction.
"Pass to Messi," Arjun narrated his own gameplay, his voice dripping with smugness. "Messi to Henry. Henry back to Messi. Oh, look at that space! Where is the defense? The defense is on holiday in Spain!"
"Shut up, Arjun," Siddanth growled, his eyes narrowed. "Just play."
Siddanth was playing as Real Madrid (The Ronaldo-Kaka era). His partner was Karthik, the Lead Engineer, who was currently controlling Sergio Ramos and running him in circles around the midfield while the strikers ran past him.
"Karthik," Siddanth said, his voice dangerously low. "Why is Ramos buying a hotdog near the corner flag?"
"I... I think I have lag, sir," Karthik stammered, sweating profusely. "The input lag. It's the server."
"We are playing offline! Local multiplayer!" Siddanth yelled. "There is no server! It's a wire!"
---
Siddanth's mind was in overdrive. He analyzed the situation.
Situation: Down by 3 goals. 15 minutes left.
Asset: Cristiano Ronaldo (Virtual).
Liability: Karthik (Real).
Opponent: Arjun (Spamming the through-ball) and Rohan (Actually good at the game).
He activated Predator's Focus.
The room faded away. The half-eaten pizza boxes on the table blurred. The only thing that existed was the screen.
He saw the pixel refresh rate. He saw the frame data.
If I press 'Sprint' now, Ronaldo accelerates in 0.4 seconds. If I fake shot left, Pique's AI will commit right.
"Give me the ball," Siddanth commanded.
Karthik, playing as Xabi Alonso, panic-passed the ball to Siddanth's Ronaldo.
Siddanth leaned forward. The "Gamer Lean." It was serious now.
He executed a perfect roulette turn. He stepped over twice. He cut inside Puyol.
"Oh, he's dancing!" Rohan shouted, trying to tackle. "Slide him!"
Siddanth tapped the shoot button.
Virtual Ronaldo wound up for a screamer from 30 yards.
It was perfect. The power bar was in the green. The angle was acute.
Then, just as Ronaldo was about to strike, Karthik—trying to be helpful—pressed the 'Pass' button on his controller to call for the ball.
Because of the FIFA mechanics, the input overrode the shot.
Instead of shooting, Ronaldo gently tapped the ball sideways... directly to Arjun's defender.
The room went silent.
On the screen, the commentator Martin Tyler said, "Well, that was a waste of possession."
Siddanth slowly lowered his controller. He turned his head mechanically to look at Karthik.
Karthik shrank into his beanbag, looking like he wanted to phase through the floor.
"I... I thought you needed support," Karthik whispered.
"Support," Siddanth repeated, his voice devoid of emotion. "You supported me by taking the ball away from the best striker in the world inside the box?"
"Counter-attack!" Arjun screamed, mashing the sprint button. "Messi is away! Catch him if you can, slowpokes!"
Arjun's Messi sprinted down the field. Siddanth tried to switch players, but the game switched him to the left-back who was miles away.
Arjun squared the ball to Eto'o.
Tap in.
GOAL.
Score: 1-5.
Arjun jumped up, doing a victory lap around the coffee table, imitating an airplane.
"GOL GOL GOL GOL! BARCA! BARCA!"
Siddanth sighed, dropping back onto the sofa. He looked at the ceiling.
He had faced Brett Lee bouncers. He had faced Malinga yorkers. He had faced the pressure of a billion people.
But nothing, absolutely nothing, was as frustrating as losing at FIFA to his best friend.
"This game is rigged," Siddanth declared. "The scripting is unbelievable. My players are running in mud."
"Ah, the classic excuse," Rohan laughed, emboldened by the scoreline. "Blame the engine, Boss. Not the operator."
"It's the controller," Siddanth insisted, inspecting his gamepad. "This Right Trigger is sticky. I can't sprint. Karthik, did you spill Coke on this?"
"No, sir! I drink Fanta!" Karthik defended himself.
---
"Restart," Siddanth said. "Best of three. That was a warm-up."
"Warm-up?" Arjun scoffed, sitting back down. "That was a massacre. But fine. One more. But this time, we switch partners. I can't watch you bully poor Karthik anymore. I'll take Karthik. You take Rohan."
Rohan's eyes widened. "Wait, I have to play with the Boss? If we lose, am I fired?"
"If we lose," Siddanth said, cracking his knuckles, "you're working weekends for a month."
"Motivation," Rohan gulped. "I like it."
Match 2: Manchester United (Siddanth/Rohan) vs. Chelsea (Arjun/Karthik).
Siddanth picked Man Utd. He needed Wayne Rooney's aggression.
The game started.
With Rohan (who was actually good), Siddanth found his rhythm.
They played tiki-taka. Pass, move, pass, move.
Siddanth's thumb moved like a blur on the analog stick.
Skill move. Chop. Fake shot.
Minute 10:
Rooney (Siddanth) through-ball to Tevez (Rohan).
Bang. Top corner.
1-0.
"YEAH!" Siddanth shouted, high-fiving Rohan. "That's how you play! Physics! Geometry!"
Minute 35:
Arjun tried to cross. Karthik (playing Drogba) actually managed to head it.
But Edwin van der Sar saved it.
"Unlucky," Arjun muttered. "The game hates Chelsea."
Minute 45:
Siddanth was on a breakaway. He was one-on-one with the keeper.
He decided to be disrespectful. He tried to chip the keeper.
The ball floated... floated... and hit the crossbar.
It bounced back.
Rohan tried to head the rebound.
He hit the post.
The ball bounced out.
Siddanth tried to bicycle kick it.
He missed the ball and kicked the defender in the face.
Red Card.
"WHAT?!" Siddanth stood up. "Ref! That's a clean tackle! He lowered his head!"
"You kicked him in the neck, Sid," Arjun laughed. "It's assault. Go take a shower."
Down to 10 men.
But Siddanth was in the zone.
He made Vidic (the defender) tackle everything that moved.
Final Score: 1-0.
Siddanth threw the controller onto the sofa and raised his arms.
"Redemption! The Champ is here! Who's the noob now, Arjun?"
Arjun rolled his eyes. "1-1 on aggregate. Decider?"
"No time," Siddanth said, checking his watch. It was 1:30 PM. "Lunch is here."
---
The door to the breakout zone opened. A delivery guy walked in with stacks of boxes.
The smell of Paradise Biryani filled the room, overpowering the smell of ozone and defeat.
"Food!" Karthik cheered, his trauma on the virtual pitch instantly forgotten.
The team gathered around the foosball table, which was now repurposed as a dining table.
Siddanth grabbed a plate. He served himself a generous portion of Mutton Biryani (it was his cheat day).
He sat on a beanbag, balancing the plate on his knees.
"So," Siddanth said, mixing the salan into the rice. "Status report. While I was busy getting red cards, did anyone actually do any work?"
Ananya, the Creative Director, walked in, holding a tablet. She grabbed a kebab.
"Actually, yes. Project Sugar. The new assets are ready."
She tapped the tablet and handed it to Siddanth.
Siddanth looked at the screen.
It was the concept art for the candies.
The Red Jellybean looked glossy, translucent, almost wet. The Yellow Drop looked like hard lemon candy.
"The shine is good," Siddanth nodded. "But the 'crush' animation? Does it feel crunchy?"
"We added a particle effect," Ananya explained, chewing. "When you match three, it doesn't just vanish. It shatters. And we added a bass-heavy sound effect. It's very satisfying."
"Good," Siddanth said. "And the 'Sweet!' voiceover?"
"We recorded a few versions. We have a deep, baritone voice. Very encouraging."
"Like God praising you for matching colors," Arjun added.
"Perfect. Keep that. People need validation."
Siddanth took a bite of biryani. "What about the backend? Karthik?"
Karthik, who had sauce on his chin, looked up. "Server architecture is up. We are using the AWS auto-scaling you suggested. I tested the load balancer yesterday. It can handle 10,000 concurrent users without sweating."
"Aim for 10 million," Siddanth said calmly.
The room went quiet.
"10 million?" Karthik choked on his rice.
"Candy Crush will be big, Karthik," Siddanth said, his voice certain. "Bigger than cricket. Everyone has a phone. Everyone gets bored. We are selling a cure for boredom."
He looked at Arjun. "And the other project? Battlegrounds?"
Arjun wiped his hands. "Slower. The map design is taking time. 8x8 kilometers is huge. The artists are struggling to fill the empty space without killing the framerate."
"Use procedural generation for the foliage," Siddanth suggested. "Don't hand-place every tree. Write a script to scatter them based on a noise map. Then hand-tune the key areas."
Karthik's eyes lit up. "Procedural... right. We can use a height map to determine tree density. That saves weeks."
"Do it," Siddanth said.
---
After the heavy meal, the energy in the room dipped. The "Biryani Coma" was setting in.
Rohan was lying flat on the carpet, staring at the ceiling. "I can't code. I am 80% rice now."
"Me too," Ananya sighed. "My creative vision is currently blurry."
Siddanth stood up.
"Okay, team," Siddanth said, clapping his hands. "We have two options. We can sleep here and drool on the carpet, or we can wake up."
"Sleep," Rohan voted.
"Sleep," Karthik agreed.
"Wrong answer," Siddanth grinned. "Foosball tournament. Winners get to leave at 4 PM on Friday. Losers stay till 6."
Suddenly, everyone was awake.
"I'm in!" Rohan scrambled up.
"I'm taking you down, Boss!" Karthik yelled.
The next hour was a different kind of chaos.
Siddanth Deva, international cricketer, was spinning the plastic rods of a foosball table with the same intensity he used to bowl to Ricky Ponting.
"No spinning!" Ananya yelled, refereeing. "That's illegal!"
"It's physics!" Siddanth argued. "It's spin bowling!"
He was terrible at foosball. His reflexes were too fast; he kept reacting before the ball arrived.
Arjun and Rohan (the 'nerds') absolutely destroyed Siddanth and Karthik.
"5-0!" Arjun crowed. "Clean sweep! You might be good at cricket, Sid, but on the table, you are a minnow. An associate nation!"
Siddanth laughed, throwing his hands up. "Fine. You win. I concede."
He looked around the room. His employees—his team—were laughing, shouting, high-fiving. They weren't terrified of him. They weren't treating him like a celebrity. They were treating him like a colleague who sucked at foosball.
It was refreshing.
---
At 3:00 PM, Siddanth checked his phone.
15 Missed Calls.
Manager (BCCI).
Nike Rep.
Dad.
The bubble of normalcy popped. The world wanted its hero back.
He sighed.
"Okay, guys," Siddanth said, his voice shifting back to the professional tone. "Fun's over. Back to the grind. I need that Candy beta by Friday. And Karthik... fix the trees."
"Yes, Boss," Karthik saluted, heading back to his workstation.
The team dispersed, the laughter fading into the tapping of keyboards.
Siddanth walked into his private cabin with Arjun.
He closed the door. The soundproofing cut out the office hum.
He picked up a cricket ball from his desk and tossed it in the air.
"You okay?" Arjun asked, sitting on the edge of the desk.
"Yeah," Siddanth said, catching the ball. "Just... shifting gears. The South African serie starts in two weeks. Then the IPL."
"You'll crush it," Arjun said. "You always do."
"I have to," Siddanth said, looking at the Nike poster on the wall. "I have a lot of salaries to pay now."
He put the ball down.
"Arjun."
"Yeah?"
"Next time we play FIFA...I am destroying you."
Arjun laughed, walking to the door. "Not a chance, Champion."
Siddanth smiled as the door closed.