Mobile game ads paint a bizarre world where a mysterious fae, or maybe some trickster god of the hearth, will create puzzles inside the chimneys of those in need, with lava and unmarked gold coins as a prize for the needy if the puzzle is solved correctly. And the burden of solving the puzzle is placed upon some outside observer, on an entire other plane of existence.
The trickster afflicts the observer with frustrating visions that leave the people cold, hungry and poor, before enticing them to give it a try themselves.
“It’s so easy! You can do better. You can help them.” The trickster whispers in your ear. A soft voice with breath that softly, almost unnoticeably brushes against your skin, yet sends shivers down your spine.
You watch as the molten rock and gold solidifies inside their chimney. Even if they had the coal to burn, the smoke would fill their house and drive them out into the freezing winter, coughing and wretching.
The crying of the mother and child both beckons and mocks you.
“just a few taps. And you can help them.” The trickster speaks with a barely disguised smile. It’s a tantalizing offer. Everyone wants to make a difference after all.
But now there’s an X in the corner of the screen. A way out. An escape from this view of a portal to misery.
Your finger hovers over the X.
“Are you sure?” The trickster whispers. It knows of the conflict in your mind, and it wishes to stir the pot.
“Have you no heart? Have you no desire to help?” The trickster’s voice brushes softly against your ear.
You hit the X. A white screen appears. Words flash before your eyes. “Play now!”
“Play now”.
“Play”.
For the trickster this is nothing but a game. You know this already. It’s a game for you too.
Does the mother know that? Does the child?
The five seconds are over.
Your finger once again hovers over an X.
“A pity.” The trickster hums in your ear, their frown making it’s way into their sing-song tone. “You would truly leave them cold, naked, and alone. Desperate for a justice you, and only you, could provide. But I guess there’s always next time.”
You cannot see the trickster.
You never could.
But you know they are smiling.
As you press the X, severing your connection, your chance to make a difference, the trickster whispers one more thing in your ear.
“see you again soon.”
And as your screen blinks away, you know the trickster is still smiling.
He is the only one.