Title:Complicity
Author(s): Iain M. Banks
Publisher(s): Simon & Schuster
Pages: 320
Year: 2002
Format:EPUB
Language: English
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This is purely a coincidence, of course; it$prime;s not fate, not karma, not anything except a fortuitous accident, but dammit, it$prime;s just so _neat_! No waste! No fat! Just exactly the right, most elegantly eco-optimum system — as near to state-of-the-art as I could afford at the time, barely a year ago and I$prime;m still paying the now quite superseded bastard off — to run this stunningly Machiavellian turbo-screamer of a game; an instant classic, easily a year ahead of its time and just possibly better than sex.
I$prime;m playing _Despot_ but I$prime;m thinking about sex. I$prime;m definitely seeing Y tomorrow and I can$prime;t stop thinking about sex. I$prime;ve got an erection and I$prime;m sitting here in front of the machine in the darkness, crouched here in the box room of the flat with the light off and the radio on and the computer screen awash with the seductive, gently scrolling graphics of _Despot_ and the light from the screen — blue, ochre, red, green — throws the shadow of my cock onto my belly and the damn thing$prime;s getting in the way all the time so that I keep putting it under the desk where it rubs hard up against the metal strut at the front of the desk until that gets cold and uncomfortable and I have to push back in the chair and let the thick, bobbing weight of it rest against the edge of the chipboard, its big purple head and one little slit-mouth-eye staring dumbly, questioningly up at me like some mute, warm little puppy, distracting me, and I keep thinking I ought to have a wank but I don$prime;t want to because I want to save it all for Y, not because Y particularly desires that or it affects my performance but because it just seems important, part of the correct pre-coital ritual.
Maybe I should just put some pants on and control the thing but I kind of like sitting here in the nude and feeling the gentle breeze of warm air from the fan heater in the corner blowing over my skin. So, the big wee man is throbbing, looking forward to a welcome in the hillsides, a homecoming in the glen (even if it$prime;s prepared to be palmed off with less), but meanwhile the game is there to be played, and threatens to play with itself if I do the same. Because _Despot_ is interactive, _Despot_ will go on building your world for you even if you leave it alone because it actually _watches_ you; it learns your playing style, it knows you, it will actually try its little damnedest to become you. All world-builder games — emulating life or at least some aspect of it — develop and change according to their programmed rules if you leave them running alone, but _Despot_ is the only one that with a bit of coaching will actually attempt to emulate you.
I light another Silk Cut and sip a little whisky. I$prime;m staying off the speed for now but when I get to the next era-level in the game — and I$prime;m hovering within a few GNP points of it at the moment — I$prime;m going to roll a number. I draw hard on the Silk Cut, filling my lungs with the fumes. I$prime;ve smoked a packet since six this evening when I started working and then turned to the game. Half a bottle of whisky$prime;s gone too, and the inside of my mouth$prime;s got that rough, granular feel it gets when I$prime;ve been drinking the stuff.
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