//------------------------------//
// 14 What Years Will Do 
// Story: Aria 
// by SprocketProductions 
//------------------------------//

I took a deep breath while looking outward from the front porch, reminiscing about the good and bad luck my partner and I had gone through. The process after the miscarriage really did feel like hell. Regardless of what had happened, we were okay now. Everything was still happening, and reality didn't care whether or not we were going to go along with it. Though times hadn't been all bad. I got married to my favorite stallion, and for once in my life, I felt like my family actually liked me or something. It was nice, despite the sadness of the recent events around that time.

My game development hadn't been going particularly well. Since my recent experiences, any inspiration I had for a meaningful game was too depressing, I thought. Ponies wouldn't want to play any six hour downer quests. As a result, what I made was just essentially a collection of minigames. Sure, customers thought they were fun and all, but my fans wondered what happened to the deep, interesting masterpieces I previously made. For a moment, I considered how they would react if I were to publish any of my interesting ideas. I closed my eyes, deciding that at this point, it didn't matter what I published, if it would save my fanbase, that would be all that mattered.

When I opened my eyes, I saw the flag on the mailbox had been pushed to the upward position. Curiously, I got up from my seat and walked up to it, pulling out a few letters. I closed the mailbox and flicked the flag down, proceeding back to the porch. The letter I first saw wasn't the usual late property tax notification, but a letter from Aurora. I set it down gently on the table beside me. I hadn't answered any of her attempts to contact me since the wedding. She had to be angry at me, I was sure of it. I sighed as I saw the next letter: A will from my parents, who were both deceased at this point. I wished I had spent more time with them after coming out. I set the envelope on top of Aurora's letter. The third item was a postcard from Shining Waterfall, who had gone through the sex change spell and had a child of her own since Flare and my marriage.

I watched my vision start to grow blurry and refracted as I felt warm tears drip from my eyes down to the piece of photo paper. I looked at the smiling faces of Shining, her husband, and her daughter. I was happy for her, yes, but seeing her living a happy life brought me sorrowful memories of sitting in the hospital room, hearing the doctors sugar coat my misfortune. I looked at the hoof-written words: "Wish you were here" in beautiful calligraphy by my old friend. To most ponies, this would be a sweet but generic statement, but to me, this held far more weight. I slammed my hoof against the surface of the hardwood table next to me. How could I be such a horrible friend to those who care for me this much? I didn't know the answer and that only frustrated me more.

I wiped away my tears as I set the postcard on top of the will from my parents. Looking down, I saw an official looking envelope with a red stamp mark on it that read "eviction notice." I sighed heavily as I opened the paper version of Pandora's Box. According to the form, we had 6 weeks to pay off the property tax or we would be officially evicted and summarily removed from the premises. I ripped the form in half, as it didn't require me to send it back. Getting up and leaving the letters, I walked inside and threw the notice in the general direction of the trash bin. I journeyed past the spilled can of coffee beans and the espresso machine with coffee grounds ejected on the counter beside it. We had really let the place go for the past five years.

I entered the now dusty office only showing use of the computer and chair, powering the device on and starting a new game project. The hardest decision of all my meaningful creations hit me in full force this time. It was obvious what I should name my previous projects since the miscarriage. I would type in "darts" or "bowling" as those were the objects of the game. It had been years since I had thought about the title to something that would have true depth to it. I didn't know what I would type in for the name, so I made a bad decision: I slapped on whatever title popped into my head: I Am Broken.

"Good Celestia, it SOUNDS depressing." I said aloud to myself, as if giving my own game a reviewer's critique.

I began creating an overall environment. I created a dark, gloomy forest with burned, dead looking trees. The ground was grey with elongated shadows. There were dead brambles all around. The overall tone made me feel sad. My main character was a huge contrast with the environment. A bright orange fox was created to journey through the unwelcoming forest, but to what end? I created a glowing flower and duplicated it multiple times throughout the forest. The fox would have to traverse through the dangerous terrain to each flower. When the fox got to the flowers, he would give some love and care for a moment, causing the plants to bloom and make the forest more welcoming. Trees would begin to show life, brambles became green bushes. Grass and moss grew on the ground. The sky went from a dreary grey to a cheerful blue. The elongated threatening shadows became cool spots of shade in soft shapes as the sun illuminated them.

In play testing, each time I got to another flower, I felt happier. I felt better than I did before. Though by the end, something seemed missing. The game had profound meaning, but not nearly the meaning I hoped for. I began adding to the character's actions. Every time the fox gave to the flowers, its coat grew more washed out, more grey. Its movements slowed, as if it was giving its own life, so the forest could live. It wasn't an uplifting story, but it was indeed meaningful. Then, I added a final scene, where the fox would collapse. The unfulfilling moment was then improved upon by having forest creatures come to the aid of the fox, sharing their own love and care until the fox's coat was exactly the brilliant color it originally had been. I animated images of the fox happily journeying through the place it saved with its newfound friends.

Smiling, I published the game to several game distribution clients, sending my whole fanbase notifications of the new game. I had written a description apologizing for my previously subpar work, and presenting my new piece of playable art. I took a deep breath in as I walked out of the office into the rest of the house, which was in disrepair. I frowned at the mess and began to clean it up. I went to the living room and organized the games, putting discs back into their proper cases and arranging them neatly on the shelf and put the controllers nicely on the coffee table, which I removed the dirty plates from and cleaned the surface of. I vacuumed the couch cushions off until they were visibly clean.

Moving to the bathroom, I put toiletries in their proper places. The toilet paper went on the rack next to the toilet, the shampoo, conditioner, body wash, moisturizer, and soap went to their proper places. I cleaned the floor, the toilet, the counter, the sink, and the mirror. Moving to our bedroom, I folded and put away clean clothing and put dirty clothing in the washer. I took dishes out and put them in the kitchen sink. I made the bed, even. Moving on to the kitchen, I took out all the trash and scooped all the coffee beans back into their can. I cleaned all the machinery and counter tops. I arranged our few clean dishes neatly in the cabinets and began a new load of the dirty ones in the dishwasher. I sat back in a chair at the kitchen table and gazed at the result of my labor. The house looked welcoming inside again, and I felt accomplished.

Flare got home from work, turning around to see the now clean house, "Well, somepony's been busy. What's the occasion?"

"I released a new game." I informed.

He set his laptop bag down, "You've released like 25 in the past five years. What's so special about this one?"

"It has meaning." I replied.

He looked at me, "You're going with your inspiration again? That's great news."

I nodded as he and I sat down to our first prepared meal in a long time. Even if we were going to get evicted, things seemed like they were finally looking up.