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A father typed away at his computer. He was racing against the clock to launch his new web-based game as a business. He struggled mightily with the design of the game, but he was ready to launch. He had put everything he had left into making this a reality and it all counted on making sure that the website could be that thing. He did not have the money to afford private C# tutors, but he could have used the help because the program looked like Arabic to him. And he did not know Arabic either.
His son came to him. “Papa, are you going to be able to finish this website? We need this to work if we are going to be able to buy food.” The father looked at his boy with a smile. “We will eat like kings once this works out. I know it. Believe in Papa.” And so he typed away at the keyboard, figuring out how to design a website as he went. One day, the boy came back into the room. “Papa, the internet is not working. I can’t connect to our Wifi.” The father looked back at his boy with a smile. “Once this works out, you will have all the Wifi you could ever want. You have heard of 4G? I will give you 8G. You just need to bear with me for a little bit. Believe in Papa.” The boy looked back concerned, but he believed in his father. He decided that he could get by on his phone’s data plan for a little bit. They just needed to believe.
As the father typed away on his laptop, the boy dreamed of a table filled with food. He went to his father’s room and found a box in the back of the closet. One day, this had been filled with collector’s editions of all of the greatest comic books, but the father had sold them all to invest in his company. The boy pulled out The Incredible Hulk #1, which was the last one left. “Boy! Are you in my room?” He replaced the book and snuck out. He sat down at the kitchen table and started sketching pigs in his notebook. Before long, he got bored and started giving the pigs muscles. He colored them green, like hulked out pigs. He drew red birds next to them. Father called and he crumpled his drawing and tossed it out.
“I need your phone,” he said. The boy handed the phone to his father. “It is for the mobile hotspot. I will need this for a while.” The boy looked back at his father. “But papa, we do not have any money left for electricity. The light will go out soon and we will have nothing.” The father looked back, but his smile was gone. “This is going to work. It better work. You said it would work.” The boy looked back. “I think microtransactions will be a hit.” His father’s face turned dark. “What a silly word.” The boy ran out crying as the lights went out.
The father panicked. He looked down at the battery and it said an hour and a half of life remaining. He started typing faster. The site was almost done. All he needed to do was add that one… final.... touch. The boy returned to the room as the laptop turned black and the whole apartment fell into darkness. “Is it done?” he whimpered. His father looked back with the smile back on his face, this time, more sinister. “Now, we wait.”
The father scavenged for food in the next few days. They ate just enough to get by until he could no longer find a source. The boy looked at his dad, unsure if he was going to have to eat his dad or if it would be the other way around. Suddenly, the lights came back on. “How?” the boy asked. His father’s face lit up. “Autopay.” He looked back expecting that to mean something. “They’re buying.” He opened his bank account and there was money there for the first time in weeks. “Now we can afford C# tutors near me,” he joked. “Or maybe I become one.”
The website was only a success for a short time before people started logging off for newer things. After the initial success, the father was not focused on his site and started his own business of private C# tutoring. He touted his early success and promised that other programmers could experience similar success. He went so far as to talk bad about ASP.NET, convinced that his Dreamweaver skills could not be matched with any other person or program. The boy said, “Microtransactions worked!” But his father was not hearing it. “Good thing I had such a great idea to do it.”
The boy was dejected. This was his big idea. He pleaded, “Papa, please. This was my idea.” But his father told him, “Know your place, boy.” The boy stomped to his father’s room. He went to the box in the corner and grabbed the Hulk comic. He tore the cover right off and replaced the book where he found it. He took a sharpie and drew a pig over the Hulk’s green body. He hid the cover under his bed. The father found the damaged book a few weeks later, but he blamed the new dog that he bought to make up for stealing his son’s idea. He sent the dog back to the pound. The boy cried, losing his new friend, but he knew that it would be worth the price.
The boy asked his father if he could take advantage of C# tutoring near me and his father tried to teach him. Once he realized that his father was not a great tutor, he started looking for other help. One day, out skateboarding, he met a boy that was into making games. They became quick friends and the boy started spending less time at home. His father barely noticed. He went on doing his own thing, while the boy did the same.
With his new friend, the boy began developing a game based on his green pigs. He incorporated the little red birds as slings against the green pig Hulks. One day, he was out with his father and they walked past some scaffolding. It began to collapse and the father and boy ran out of the way. The boy imagined if they did not make it in time. Suddenly, things clicked. The game became firing birds at scaffolding to crush the pigs. He called the game The Angriest Bird. His friends were fans in the beginning, but they kept getting angry when they ran out of their five lives and had to wait for more. They asked how they could keep playing faster. “Microtransactions,” said the boy, now a young adult with the same wry smile of his father. “Believe in Papa.”
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