Chapter 8: BB Game Company

White and Iverson were ready to prepare, and immediately set off for Santa Cruz. They are both poor college students and can only go there by bus. Fortunately, Santa Cruz is not far from San Francisco. In the traffic jam, they arrived in Santa Cruz from San Francisco in less than two hours.
What is different from White’s imagination is the location of the headquarters of BSB. No, from the outside, it is not even the headquarters, but like a dilapidated and rotten empty house.
The environment of this place is the same as the youth apartment they live in, with cement stone steps, rusty doorknobs, and green walls. White went upstairs, led by Iverson to the third floor.
"Are you sure it is this place?" White asked.
Iverson smiled bitterly: "I just came here in exactly the same mood as you are now."
The more so, White became more interested in the Englishman named Brooklyn. What kind of Englishman is he who came to the United States to start a business and is willing to live in such a house?
The aging doorbell was also rusty, and there was no response at all when I pressed it. Iverson had already contacted Brooklyn before that, and now he lifted his sleeves, knocked on the door with his fists, and raised his voice: "Brooklyn, Brooklyn. forest!"
The soundproofing is very poor, the door frame vibrated slightly, and there was a rush of shoes, da da da, da da da, and after a while, the door opened.
Standing in front of him was a tall and strong man, wearing a tight black vest, showing a large floral arm on the right.
"Hey! My partner. You are finally here." Brooklyn greeted them in the door enthusiastically. When Brooklyn turned sideways to give way, the structure of the inner house appeared, with dim walls and light, and the air was faintly filled with the heavy feeling of not opening the window.
Looking inside, although the house is messy, it doesn't appear to be small. The four well-planned rooms are used to process different game data processing.
"This is the house I rent. The development of the usual games is carried out here, and we all live here. Tomorrow is the weekend, I will let them go back and have a good rest." Brooklyn said.
Brooklyn handed them coffee and water. White sat down on the sofa holding a paper coffee cup, and Brooklyn sat beside him.
Brooklyn asked: "Listen to Iverson, your name is White Engelson?"
"Yes." White answered.
"It looks like a nice young guy!" Brooklyn praised.
In fact, Brooklyn's actual age is not very old. It happens to be the golden age of entrepreneurship. However, his tall stature and calm temperament, coupled with the identity of an entrepreneur, make him look mature.
"Brooklyn, stop talking nonsense! I've already told you? He is not only an excellent painter, but also software development is his best field. If you don't want to waste this talent, just talk about your game design philosophy. Come out and let White listen." Iverson said.
"I know, but I can warn you, Iverson, don't try to make money with me for your marketing set." Brooklyn laughed and got up, pulling his slippers into the room.
Iverson looked slumped: "White, did you see it? Brooklyn exudes the same breath as you."
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The same... breath? White opened his mouth and laughed inexplicably. This kind of talent is the most dangerous. It is always vigilant like a leopard, and has a seemingly benevolent hostility towards any threatening opponent. However-this kind of benevolence will not stay on them for long.
After a while, Brooklyn came out of the room with a thick stack of paper. To their surprise, he did not produce documents similar to manuscripts. These sheets were plain white paper.
Afterwards, Brooklyn handed a pencil for painting. White took the pencil and met Brooklyn's brown eyes. Brooklyn stood up, walked to the window, and opened the curtain. In an instant, light leaked into the whole room. Brooklyn pointed his hand to the tall office floor outside the window.
"BSB's games are mainly based on the life of men and women in modern cities, and strive to create a real, depraved, and vain American youth life." Brooklyn said.
White thought in his heart that there are quite a few R-level game routines under the real flag.
"Now, Engerson, please use this apartment as the mainstay and draw the imaginary world I just described." Brooklyn said.
"..."
Brooklyn walked over again and stood in front of White, looking down particularly condescendingly: "Let me see what you can do, Engerson."
Brooklyn's knife-cut eyes were sharp and sharp, but White did not flinch, nor did White deliberately look up, but stared quietly at Brooklyn's brown eyes, thinking secretly about what was hidden by the turbulent eyes.
Iverson faintly raised his tone, and said angrily: "Brooklyn, what do you mean? Don't you trust us? Can the pictures I sent you be fake?"
Brooklyn smiled calmly and calmly: "Don't be restless, Iverson. I don't mean to distrust you. I just think it would be better to figure out some things personally. By the way, I also want to see it, so magnificent. How was the scene drawn?"
"You!" Iverson choked.
White reached out and stopped Iverson and said, "Don't make a noise, Iverson."
"Mr. Brooklyn, I can paint, but I have to make it clear. Even if you ask me to paint, the copyright still belongs to me. If you want to use it in the game in the future, please buy it first. Of course, if You formally hire me, I have nothing to say." White said.
No discerning person can be stupid, and White is threatening and taunting him. If you hire me from Brooklyn in the future, what I said today would be the same as feeding a dog. I was disdainful of arguing with you about what is original or unoriginal, but you are all about it. I will no longer face your insult. Just write the name upside down!
White thought itchingly, turning the pencil between his fingers and pinching it in his hand. First, he drew two or three marks on the blank sheet of paper. After the ink was able to enter the eyes of the law, he started to draw manually. This was his first class when he first entered the painting class. The little tricks taught by the teacher are now used.
When it comes to how this painting is to be painted, White has no bottom at all. Brooklyn's few descriptions indeed describe the roughly morbid society, but the structural system is completely silent.
White was very troubled because of this, but when he saw the curtains being opened, the picture of the sun pouring in, he suddenly realized like a god-assisted, he was full of thoughts, holding the pen, and immediately swiping the ink core on the soft white paper. A great deal of turmoil.
The ultimate color, the ultimate luxury, the ultimate charm. The brain seemed to be filled with blood and became more and more excited, the blue veins on both foreheads appeared, and White's whole heart was only devoted to the painting in front of him
"It's done!" White threw the pen, heartily.