Part I — Cooperative Gameplay
The secure conference chamber beneath the Geneva Summit
Complex had been built for moments of consequence.
Emergency financial interventions.
Defense coordination.
Climate agreements negotiated through sleepless nights and strong coffee.
It had never been used for a LAN party.
Yet on this particular evening, ten beige desktop computers
sat across the polished conference table. Bulky CRT monitors hummed softly
while a nest of Ethernet cables tangled itself through stacks of policy
briefing binders.
On every screen, the title screen of Doom glowed.
Standing at the head of the table was Prime Minister Mark
Carney of Canada, who studied the arrangement with the same calm analytical
focus he had once used to stabilize financial markets.
He adjusted his tie.
“This appears to be a closed system with limited resources
and unpredictable shocks.”
He paused thoughtfully.
“In many respects, it resembles a financial crisis.”
Across the table, Prime Minister Anthony Albanese of
Australia had already grabbed the mouse.
“Mate,” he said cheerfully, “it’s Doom.”
The Players Assemble
The room slowly filled with the leaders of several middle
powers.
Each took a seat in front of one of the machines.
Prime Minister Christopher Luxon of New Zealand leaned
forward first, examining the map preview with the concentration of someone who
had spent years running large organizations.
“We should coordinate routes,” he said calmly. “Divide
responsibilities early.”
Beside him sat Prime Minister Petteri Orpo of Finland,
who said nothing at all.
He simply adjusted the mouse and waited.
Across the table, Prime Minister Ulf Kristersson of
Sweden frowned slightly at the monitor.
“Is the refresh rate correct?”
Next to him, Prime Minister Jonas Gahr Støre of Norway tilted his head thoughtfully.
“Ah,” he said after a moment. “Classic level design.”
Further down the table, Prime Minister Dick Schoof of the
Netherlands was already thinking in terms of coordination.
“We should establish lanes,” he suggested. “And maintain
communication.”
Meanwhile, Prime
Minister Mette Frederiksen of Denmark leaned back slightly, studying the
room with quiet amusement.
“This should be interesting.”
The Match Begins
Someone clicked MULTIPLAYER.
The map loaded.
Dark corridors stretched into shadow. Low electronic growls
echoed through unseen hallways.
Carney cleared his throat.
“Before we begin, I suggest a cooperative resource
strategy.”
Australia had already kicked open the first door.
A hallway filled instantly with demons.
Australia fired a rocket launcher at point-blank range.
The explosion filled the screen.
Australia’s character died immediately.
Four demons died with him.
Albanese leaned back in his chair.
“Good trade.”
Strategy… Briefly
Luxon immediately began outlining a plan.
“Norway takes the key route. Canada manages health packs.
Sweden can monitor—”
At that moment Denmark opened a door labeled SECRET.
Twelve monsters poured into the hallway.
Frederiksen shrugged.
“Stress testing.”
Luxon sighed.
The Quiet Professionals
While the room descended into mild chaos, Orpo of Finland
quietly moved through the map.
One demon appeared.
One shot.
Gone.
Another demon appeared.
Two shots.
Gone.
At some point Finland discovered the BFG.
No one was entirely sure when.
Meanwhile Sweden had stopped playing.
Kristersson adjusted his glasses.
“This network configuration is inefficient.”
Several minutes later he had somehow optimized the system.
The game suddenly ran flawlessly.
No lag.
Perfect frame rate.
Kristersson nodded with satisfaction and resumed playing.
Norway Is Already at the Exit
Støre of Norway had recognized the level almost immediately.
“Ah yes,” he said casually. “E1M4.”
While the others debated hallway strategy, Norway had
already reached the red key.
Late Arrivals
The conference door opened quietly.
Two additional leaders stepped inside.
Chancellor Olaf Scholz of Germany studied the
monitors.
“Doom,” he said.
He sat down.
Pulled out a small notebook.
An actual notebook.
“I believe a structured approach will improve efficiency.”
Within minutes Scholz was calmly issuing instructions about
corridor-clearing patterns.
Beside him, Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi of Japan examined
the controls with careful attention.
She adjusted the mouse slightly.
Then began playing.
Every shot landed.
Every demon fell.
The scoreboard began climbing steadily.
Australia leaned toward the screen.
“When did Japan get the plasma rifle?”
No one knew.
The Cyberdemon Incident
The crisis arrived suddenly.
Australia opened a door that probably should not have been
opened.
A towering mechanical demon stepped into the corridor.
The Cyberdemon.
Germany began issuing instructions.
The Netherlands tried to coordinate.
New Zealand suggested a tactical retreat.
Carney remained calm.
“This appears to be a temporary systemic shock.”
Finland fired the BFG.
Japan followed with a precise plasma burst.
The Cyberdemon collapsed almost instantly.
Orpo nodded once.
Takaichi gave a small respectful bow toward the monitor.
The Scoreboard
Moments later the level ended.
The scoreboard appeared.
Frederiksen examined the results.
“I question the methodology of this scoring system.”
Carney leaned back thoughtfully.
“This exercise demonstrates that coordinated middle powers
can effectively manage high-intensity threats.”
Australia raised a hand.
“Can we try deathmatch?”
Finland had already loaded the next map.
The summit ran two hours behind schedule.
Global diplomacy had rarely been this productive.
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