After three more presentations, Nathan finally stepped onto the stage. The screen behind him came to life as his little animated characters waddled around his detailed neighborhood with hammers in their hands. Each one took a spot on a ladder next to a tiny house and got to work.
“Last year, I was eleven years old. I was sitting in that seat right there.” He pointed to a chair in the front row. “All I could think about was that next year, I wanted to be up here on this stage, demonstrating a game of my own. And here I am. Thank you for letting me introduce you to Built.”
Allie couldn’t help but think about how much he’d done to get to that point. A year of lunches in the lab. An entire summer in front of his screen. And she found herself clapping along with everyone else.
For the next five minutes, Nathan took the audience on a tour through his town and told them all about his goal to build real houses for people who needed them.
Everyone laughed when he demonstrated his little workers, climbing ladders with hammers in hand. He explained how the store worked on a karma system; each player was encouraged to do kind deeds for a neighbor in exchange for points they could use to buy nails, screws, wood, and paint. In the final minute, he zoomed out so everyone could see the street signs and subtly placed billboards as he told them how sponsorship worked.
“It’s simple. For every home that’s built, one of our sponsors donates a dollar to Habitat for Humanity. That’s it. Just one dollar. Over the last year, I’ve built more than a thousand of these little houses. I’ve been the only builder. Obviously.” That got a laugh. “If I’d had a sponsor, that would have meant a thousand dollars for Habitat for Humanity. Can you imagine how many real houses we could build if we had twenty or thirty sponsors—each taking turns to donate a dollar—and thousands or even millions of players? The more sponsors, the more players, and the smaller the investment but the larger the reward.”
He stepped back to the center of the stage. “Thank you for your time and attention. I’m Nathan Fredrickson, creator of Built, and I believe games can change the world.”
He ended his presentation with a close-up of the Built icon.
And then Nathan looked down into the first row and locked his eyes on Allie. He gave her the biggest smile and mouthed the words Thank you, and she knew he wasn’t talking to the judges or the audience. He was talking to her.
There was something about the look on his face—a genuine sincerity mixed with sadness, but not a trace of guilt. She stared at him, and she knew in that moment he hadn’t sabotaged her game. He couldn’t have. Whatever happened, he hadn’t done it on purpose.
Nathan left the stage, and one by one, the final presenters took his place. When the last presentation ended, the music started back up, loud and upbeat, and Naomi Ryan returned to the stage.
“What did I tell you?” She looked over at the judge’s desk. “Are you blown away right now?” They all nodded.
“I know we’d all love to see every one of these games succeed out there in the great big world, but raise your hand if there was one game that you found yourself really excited about. One game that spoke to you.” Almost every single hand in the room shot into the air.
“In a moment, the judges will choose a winner, and it might not be your favorite. If it’s not, here’s what you can do about it. Each one has been uploaded on the Spyglass website. Go download it and start playing. Tell your friends. Spread the word. Encourage everyone you know to play these games.”
The ten giant screens around the room came to life, each one showing one of the Games for Good entries. One of the screens stayed fixed on the stage, and Allie wondered if that was where Click’d was supposed to be.
She pushed the thought out of her mind and returned her attention to the other screens. They were all interesting, but she still couldn’t take her eyes off Built.
“It looks like we’re ready to hear our winner,” Naomi Ryan said. She left the stage, and a woman wearing a dark red pantsuit with gray hair and thick black glasses took her place. All the developers returned and stood behind her.
“This was an incredibly difficult decision. The seven of us didn’t completely agree. We each had our favorites. But there was one game that had a home on all our top three lists because the design is clean and simple, and the concept is unique and easy to grasp for players of all ages. We chose this game because we felt the cause was timely and its call to action was simple and important.”
Allie was perched at the edge of her chair. She looked at Zoe, Maddie, and Emma. All three were sitting on the edges of their seats, too.
“This game is fun,” the judge continued. “But it’s more than that. It’s addictively fun.”
Allie couldn’t stand it. Her heart was pounding so hard she thought it would beat right out of her chest.
“This year’s winner of the Games for Good competition is…”
Built, Allie thought. Please say Built.
“The winner is Wil’s Way!”
Lauren Secatero threw her hand over her mouth and bent forward like she wasn’t sure her knees were going to hold her up. Two of the other girls jumped up and down and hugged her.
“Thank you!” She looked at the judge’s table, her eyes glossy with grateful tears. She shook their hands and they congratulated her. “Thank you,” she said again.
Allie looked up at Nathan. She could tell he was sad, but he was clapping just as hard and yelling just as loudly as everyone else.
When Allie got back to the Games for Good Pavilion, it was full of people, walking from kiosk to kiosk, meeting each of the developers and watching their demos. Ms. Slade came over several times to check in, and each time she introduced Allie to a bunch of the software executives who had been in the audience.
Eventually, Allie stopped feeling awkward about the fact that she was the only one in the pavilion without a real demo. She got comfortable with her photo slideshow. She told everyone about her friends and their week with Click’d. At first, she only talked about the things that went right, but after a while, she started telling stories about the things that went wrong, too. She even found herself laughing and shaking her head as she explained how “one small, tiny, minuscule change in the code can mess everything up and…” Then she would let out a long sigh and say, “Anyway, that’s what happened to me. But I’ll fix it. And I’ll relaunch it. And soon, Click’d will be clicking again.”
The more she said it, the more she started to believe it.
Occasionally, she’d glance over at Nathan’s booth and see him gesturing wildly with his hands like he always did when talking about Built. She felt that pang of guilt again, just like she had when she’d seen him onstage. She could tell he loved his game. He believed in it. He never thought he needed to take her down to win Games for Good.