Perkeo, the Racecar Driver

‘Third time’s the charm’ is humanity’s greatest scam of all time. Sixteen…I’m at sixteen! And those devious administrators said this simulation would take three trials to reach the ‘final destination.’ I lean back from the workstation and the taunting computer monitor, hands interlocked atop my greasy head, absorbing the fluorescent light hum from overhead.

GAME OVER!

Game Score: 978

Highest Score: 1208

New Game?

There must be a secret combination. Every selection. Three options. Besides the main character and the beverage, the choices keep cycling. Was I supposed to collect the tan backpack on that last run? But how would that have changed anything with the king’s crown and blue robe my figure was wearing? Ugh. I straighten up, wheeling the mesh chair forward under the laminate desk apron. Alone in this solitary office.

Full Name: Cooper Beasley

Preferred Name: Cooby

Age: 36…

The waiver form copy to my left challenges my sanity. A minimum of three attempts, and from there, any additional time in this room was optional. Despite the cool waves of air-conditioning, my palm burns the wireless mouse as I tab out of the game and check the audio options. These soundproof headphones must cost a fortune. Can’t hear a thing beyond the music playlists they preloaded. Another trifecta. Maybe a switch-up is in order. Select your playlist:

‘Silentful,’ an array of soothing, melodious tracks void of lyrics

‘Pop Goes the Remix,’ featuring hits warped by tempo or helium vocals

‘Banjoey Barlow,’ full of folk-style songs with distinctive banjo-plucking riffs

Haven’t got a clue if this choice affects the gameplay in any way. Some runs revealed a lute as one of the dresser objects. Does that appear only with the banjo songs playing? Ah, screw it. The remixes may be the best tunes to keep my spirits energized, so I tab back into the game and reset for another attempt. New game. Select your character:

Yorick

Chicot

Perkeo

What the hell kinds of names are these, anyway? My best score came with Perkeo, so I click and advance to the following screen. Strange to require character selection when the first-person POV never reveals what this guy even looks like. Whatever. Select your destination:

Campfire

Séance room

Castle

Hmmm. Okay, okay. I’ve chosen the campfire multiple times without luck. Although my stomach could certainly indulge in a s’more and an ice-cold Heineken. The séance depiction gives me goosebumps. To the blue-topped towered castle we go! Right. Next comes the outfit. The screen fades to black before reappearing, facing a walk-in closet. Select your headgear:

Racecar helmet

Top hat

Montera

No king’s crown option in this game. Or the royal blue headband I tried to equip a few rounds in a row, thinking it might buff my character’s athleticism, or something. The black montera looks dorky, and I’d rather die than wear an extended topper in real life. It’s a sign. I am Perkeo, the racecar driver this time. Pray the red-white-and-blue stripes bring overwhelming favor. Bet no one else has achieved a score as lofty as mine, anyway. Select your top:

Hoodie

Tank top

Tailcoat

What a coincidence that the hoodie is the same forest green color as my T-shirt. My most common choice out of all these attempts, I suppose. They must’ve coded it to appear more frequently or something. Is there a super rare sport coat or flannel button-down that’s yet to spawn? Tempted to pause and ask for help, I shake my head, dislodging the curiosity. Let’s finish the rest of this godforsaken attire. Select your trousers:

Track pants

Capris

Leggings

Yuck. This game’s graphics fail to capture the material textures, as all these pants look of equal fuzziness. Really going for a rainbow fit as I hover the half-blue-and-orange track bottoms. What a fashion abomination my character must be. Screw it. Select your footwear:

Cowboy boots

Sneakers

Rubber boots

Damn. I’ve crossed my ankles above the floor, and those sparkling spurs pierce my calves every moment I hover over them with the mouse pointer. Well, in case I end up choosing the bicycle for transportation later, I’ll take the gray Pumas. My throat’s become a dried-up creek bed, but until I achieve a ‘YOU WON!’ ending, I can’t stop. So, here’s where the simulation gets freaky random when the screen regenerates beside the wooden dresser. Let’s see. Select an object:

8-ball

Calculator

Hourglass

Hmmm. Second time the calculator has spawned on this loading screen. But wait—is that…1, 2, 3, 5, 8…The numbers. That’s Fibonacci! How did I miss that before? Are these mysterious numbers stacking score multipliers, or something? I had grabbed the 8-ball once before. Did that actually improve my score, though? Can’t remember. The red-tipped hourglass seems useless, so I finally click the pocket-sized number cruncher and huff. Next come the drinks, which—unless I’m crazy—will be water, coffee, and diet cola. Select your beverage:

Water

Coffee

Diet cola

Yep! Attempt number seventeen and, for whatever reason, there’s only ever been three beverages available on the kitchen counter. And which would Perkeo, the daring, rainbow-fitted racecar driver choose? Which of these liquid containers yields the highest score? Hell if I know at this point. Caffeine and move on. The screen pans from the speckled countertop to the adjacent wooden table. Select your food:

Popcorn

Banana

Ice cream cone

Jesus, three scoops? And sugar sprinkles? Obviously, this is some dare to pick the lone healthy choice. Consequences be damned in a simulation. Chris Martin trills in my ears, doo-do-doo doo-do-doo, to the progressive chorus of a “Something Just Like This” remix. If I could confirm they doused the red bucket of popcorn in heated butter, then no contest. But I quell the salty taste in my mouth and click on the decadent frozen dessert. Up next is the peculiar entryway before departing this, uhhh, house. Select an article:

Business card

Credit card

Driver’s license

Well, well, well, the red-and-gold freckled plastic money returns. Several runs have lapsed since its appearance—same for the driver’s license, on second thought. Strange though, that when choosing transit right after this, I can choose a minivan or sports car even without the license equipped. Hmmm. I scrunch closer to the monitor. Business card…Odd Todd? When this thing appeared a few rounds ago, it featured ‘Even Steven.’ Sure hope the developers walk around proud of all the random shit they plugged into this program. Come along, Todd. Lead me to victory. Next! Select your transportation:

Bus token

Sports car

Bicycle

The penultimate selection. Pick something with wheels, stop at a secret vendor to choose another object, and then I’m done with this shit! Surely, the screen will fade into that immaculate castle destination from the start, and I can finally go home. The simulation’s finest champion. Okay, into the sports car, and let’s see which vendors appear. Select an item:

Arrowhead

Backpack

Dagger

Aha! That wicked backpack again. I’m still unsure what purpose the weapons would serve. Like there’s some boss fight? A final secret level to reach? But some attempts include vendors that sell a pack of baseball cards or a vase of sunflowers. Whoever designed this simulation is either genius beyond comprehension or simply bonkers. With my eyes straining, I click the non-weapon. The screen fades…

GAME OVER!

Game Score: 1056

Highest Score: 1208

New Game?

“FUUUCK!” My voice splices through the impenetrable headphones. Such bullshit! Sick of this series of three choices and the random-ass objects that generate garbage scores. I slam the computer mouse into the cloth mouse pad. Like, what the hell? And my head’s throbbing. Great. I fold my arms across my chest. Still, the monitor stares back at me.

GAME OVER!

Am I losing my mind? There’s no way this simulation can be truly winnable. Not after seventeen fucking tries. What a waste of time. Damn. My eyeballs remain locked on the bright screen.

New Game?

***

Brightside Wellness Center

Behavioral Health Study #19—Perceived Social Isolation (PSI)

Description of Experiment: Subjects are instructed to complete a minimum of three (3) simulation trials; afterwards, continuation of the event is optional. Subjects are informed that the simulation can reach the ‘destination’ within three (3) attempts. Simulation tracks scores via a random number generator (RNG) embedded in the selection series. Each selection is presented in a choose-one-of-three event.

Subject: Cooper Beasley

Monitoring Physician: Dr. Timothy Fox

Study Duration: 118 minutes

Total Attempts Recorded: 25

PSI-to-Activity Correlation Detected: Very High

Physician Remarks: Subject displayed heightened bouts of anger past the minimum required simulations. Increasing irritability, shouts, physical damage to equipment (computer mouse, keyboard) within the testing area between attempts 17-24. Subject presented sarcastic comments, including vulgar language, to administrative staff upon voluntary dismissal at the study’s conclusion. Subject declined refreshments.

Recommended Course of Action (COA): Minimum 12-weeks of cognitive-behavioral therapy (CBT), and further psychological evaluation for antidepressant medication approval.