"I think I've lived long enough to see competitive Counter-Strike as we know it, kill itself." Summary of Richard Lewis' stream (Long)
I want to preface that the contents of this post is for informational purposes. I do not condone or approve of any harassments or witch-hunting or the attacking of anybody.
Richard Lewis recently did a stream talking about the terrible state of CS esports and I thought it was an important stream anyone who cares about the CS community should listen to. Vod Link here: https://www.twitch.tv/videos/830415547 I realize it is 3 hours long so I took it upon myself to create a list of interesting points from the stream so you don't have to listen to the whole thing, although I still encourage you to do so if you can. I know this post is still long but probably easier to digest, especially in parts. Here is a link to my raw notes if you for some reason want to read through this which includes some omitted stuff. It's in chronological order of things said in the stream and has some time stamps. https://pastebin.com/6QWTLr8T
Intro
"The last month has convinced me, that we are going to be heading into a dark place for Counter-Strike esports in 2021."
"I think I've seen the scene essentially kill itself."
"For the past 5 to 6 years, we've basically been in a holding pattern of people coming into our game wanting to run it, wanting to run all of the esports and wanting to profiteer and its been sort of a concerted effort to drive them off and push them away."
"We're spread way too thin."
"If Riot don't get involved and stop the scumbags that have moved over to Valorant from getting their feet under the table, Valorant is going to have real problems."
RL thinks too much has happened all at once for us to do anything except watch it play out, like:
Recent CSPPA strike against BLAST
ESIC failures and them not being supported enough
Teams cheating i.e. coaches/bugs
Widespread match fixing
The Pandemic
"People who try to hold bubble events are so incompetent and fuck up and people get the 'rona and its their fault."
"People who say Flashpoint is a bubble is full of shit and is a lie and people are now suffering for that lie."
"To save money they let people go home and break the bubble for a week."
"Not just Flashpoint peoples decision, they have a partner that handles the production." (hinting FACEIT)
"People are trapped in hotels essentially under house arrest because of COVID restrictions and has fucked peoples lives up."
"It's all too much, all of this incompetence, all of this greed, maybe we ride it out."
RL says he has talked to the Riot devs (the ones working on Valorant) and says, "They are so cognizant of all the fuck ups and all the problems we have in Counter-Strike."
He continues to say that this is factored into their business plan and that we never had a competitor, but just so happens to have one coincide, when we are at our worst.
CSPPA - Counter-Strike Professional Players' Association
"Who does this union really fucking serve?"
RL believes that the CSPPA is a mockery.
He points out the hypocrisy that they wouldn't strike for the pros who were kicked out of ESL Pro League, or for Jamppi or dream3r.
He also says ESL paid CSPPA and are racketeering and many other TOs have to pay them to get their "seal of approval"
He says they would strong-arm TOs saying "well if you don't give us the money, these guys are so we'll just have to commit to playing their event."
Also points out that they will strike against a competitor they are not in agreement with (Flashpoint)
RL: "It's what it says about every other time you haven't done it and it's about every time you don't do it now moving forward." "The issues they've chosen to ignore this year alone are embarrassing."
Then he points out that there was no strike for Valve qualifiers even if we have no major but Jamppi and dream3r can't play in them.
"and Valve have said 'Oh yeah we know actually their stories are accurate, Jamppi didn't cheat, now in a legally binding document. Yep dream3r did have his account hacked in a LAN café', but they still can't play. Where is the fucking solidarity? Gone. Doesn't exist. It's not important [because] it doesn't affect you." "That's what the union does right now, it looks after all the tier 1 people."
He says the CSPPA doesn't represent all players all the time and has driven a divide where you have the haves and have-nots
"We have a tier of players that operate with impunity and do not help their tier 2 or tier 3 players out at all." "If you are not a tier 1 player you do not matter, they don't event ask your opinion."
He tells chrisJ to admit and own the fact that the reason he didn't speak up during the ESL Pro League debacle is because it didn't affect him
"They are looking after some players at the expense of other players. How the fuck is that a union?"
He says the BLAST situation is a reasonable dispute and supports the players but is not the right time for a strike and have not even identified the correct enemy
He thinks players are lashing out now due to previous incidents and are upset that BLAST are working with ESIC
He stated that CSPPA shouldn't beefing with ESIC and they should be working in harmony
He says what they need to do is talk with the teams/organizations that have sold that right to BLAST
RL: "Your employers, the people who pay you that massive exorbitant salaries, when you don't stream and you don't do interviews and you offer no value beyond your ability to click heads and you get 25k dollars a month." "Why don't you talk to them about it? Oh right. You're happy to take away BLAST's paper, but you don't want to risk your own."
"I am seeing such unbelievable cowardice from the players here with the battles you choose."
"Where was the strike action when in the qualifiers for the world championship, there were teams and players engaged in huge conflicts of interest?" "Where was the strike action when your image rights were taken and sold to every league you've ever been in every union type organization you've ever been associated with like, WESA, to your org every time you sign a contract, to the leagues you play in."
"Your image rights are essentially worthless now, there's about 10 fucking separate parties that have them, and how many of them are giving you anything for it? Not much pretty much your org by the way."
"That's a big issue. Your image is you, your image is your brand. What are you doing about that? Nothing."
He is also angry at SirScoots who is "popping off" at people on Twitter who all want the same thing, which is 'A unified Counter-Strike scene for everybody, that works for everybody, that has a sustained ecosystem that nourishes everybody.' "We don't have that now."
He also says their rankings are a joke
"Just so happened, oh look TACO, that very important prominent member of the board, we pushed his team artificially up when they weren't even in the fucking top 20, not by a long shot."
He also says the ineptitude of the CSPPA cost Flashpoint a monitor sponsor
"Is it really a player association or is it like a fucking agency at this point"
ESIC - Esports Integrity Commission
"They have been put in an impossible position."
RL says that Ian Smith, the founder of ESIC and who was done work in mainstream sports, is a good and honorable man who has dedicated his life to integrity and sports. He takes on both sides, ensuring match fixers are punished, but also doing appeals and ensuring those punishments were fair.
"ESIC is a tiny organization" and are in need of money, "They didn't run a grift like the CSPPA did."
"Saying 'you want our support and you want the players to turn up you better pay us.' They don't do that."
"Had startup seed money from MTG and since then they've been pecking shit with the hens."
Ian Smith made sure that the money given by MTG (Modern Times Group, parent company of ESL, ESEA, DreamHack) was nothing more than startup money and wouldn't be in debt to them
Ian Smith sat down with other TO's not part of MTG and wanted to partner with them. They declined and called ESIC "ESL spies and we will never align ourselves with you"
"They only were just able to afford, hiring a PR guy on a full time salary to deal with the press and send out those releases you've seen, this year."
"They have a tiny group of staff investigating these things and they have taken on the biggest problems in our scene: the cheating, the match fixing."
ESIC have had "unprecedented levels of cheating to deal with, because there's something wrong with our scene ever since we went online. There's something wrong with it, everyone's lost their fucking pride and self-respect and they got no passion for it anymore, so they think fuck it, what's in it for me?"
He calls out coaches who are talking about players rights when they would rob and steal from them.
Also says more coaches being banned are coming
He also points out flaws in community's reaction to the punishments to coaches bans: "Half of the cunts still have jobs and some of the cunts got new jobs. We didn't even shun the cheating coaches."
ESIC have "found I think another 2 or 3 exploits like that one and they are investigating them all right now, it's going on right now."
"I know that there are going to be more names getting banned, again."
"So they're doing that on a skeleton crew while, investigating 3 continents worth of match fixing in MDL and semi-pro level CS." "They're doing this with half a dozen people." "They don't have any money or any help. People barely even fucking cooperate with them, they are treated like pariahs. It's ridiculous."
"Why are the CSPPA popping off at ESIC on my Twitter timeline, when you should be working together." "because its all about what's in it in for me." "2020, the online era of CS: 'What is in it for me?' How can I cheat, how can I get my paper, how can I bleed this scene one last time before I fuck off and play shooty shooty bang bang Riot Games babys first fps."
RL says that in the CIS region, teams have gone to tournaments and have been eliminated multiple times by the same team. We found out they were cheating and those players who lost, have been cut from their roster, careers ended because of cheaters.
Stream Sniping
"They're all at it in the online era, they're all at it, they're all cheating, they're all using exploits, probably that see through smoke bug got used a bunch of times"
RL talks about how there is no integrity from dead (the player), always denying when caught doing something
On the topic of 'BLAST never said we couldn't stream snipe': "Lies, BLAST never said you could do that, they had to sort of retcon it." "because what happened after that they fucking started snitching and squealing"
"Suddenly you had like, 10 of the top 15 teams in the world, staring into the abyss of being banned for 6-12 months in line with ESIC recommendations."
He says that ESIC was put in a tough situation and couldn't enforce the bans because it would have resulted in killing CS. What resulted was, BLAST, ESIC, and teams came together and gave them a warning and told them, in RL's words "don't do this again or you're gonna get got."
He then says the top teams brushed this off and didn't give a fuck
The new MiBR team playing Flashpoint, that wasn't involved in the previous incidents are doing it again (stream sniping). He gave credit to Flashpoint for the quick resolution and punishment and respect for cogu's response to the situation.
"ESIC came out and said, once more, 'Guys, zero tolerance from now on.'" RL then got upset at community's reaction calling ESIC "pussies" for their non enforcement and said if we want competitive CS we cant ban the top 10 teams.
He points out how players have no integrity and will do anything for an edge as long as they won't get detected or banned or it's within a grey area.
"All of this shit was mad avoidable, even in the pandemic era."
He talks about why aren't we filming them. Why aren't there representatives for leagues and tournaments making sure players aren't cheating?
Match Fixing
"How many years have we let our scene be fucking pillaged by these greedy cunts?" "We just let it happen."
RL says that gambling and skins betting which existed in moderation was "accelerated and blown up by the Call of Duty greedy fucks."
"Never forget TmarTn was on the board of EnVyUs." "His website, CSGOLotto, they had a bunch of off-the-books sponsorships." "NBK promoted them. People forget."
"Those people who had access to the skins, go to the players" "Even people like s1mple, best player in the world, even he scammed knives and skins off fucking fans."
Owners of skin casino sites would approach pros and lend them skins to use in tournaments and possibly keep them after reaching a deal
Players would tip off inside info about matches and teams in exchange for skins. Info such as: roster changes, how they played in scrims
They would use this info to bet and subvert the odds on their sites. "That happened religiously, I can't even tell you how many times it happened."
"I had access to the biggest database of information, from an inside betting circle in NA, and it would take information and screenshots from other pro players, who were feeding them info in exchange for money or skins."
"Some of these players are still playing." "Incredibly, there are players still in the CSPPA today, complaining about the BLAST recordings, that were embroiled in this murky shit back then."
RL also says that there were tournaments where teams contrived with each other, who should throw, who should win.
"There's a handful of people that are trying to fucking clean it up, and you think you get something over the line and you see something like the CSPPA and it's run by corrupt fucking chuckle heads, and now you've got another corrupt body you have to fight on a fucking daily basis, it's demoralizing."
"It's too far gone. Our entire semi-professional scene is compromised."
"It's rife guys, I'm not going to lie any more. It's not just China, it's not just Russia, it's here, it's NA, it's Europe, it's Australia, so much more than you think, so much more than we can prove."
"I get sent chat logs all the time […] and they're morons, these players, short-sighted, amateur, morons and they're doing it on WhatsApp." People would get cut from the bets because they want to make more money, then they leak the logs. He says, from the chat logs, they spread "little" bets across every site they can (400 to 1k dollars) to prevent shifting odds
He says the scumbags who've fucked off to Valorant will do the same there if Riot doesn't do something and says Valorant "is an esports scene heading for a very early fall based on the sheer volume of scumbags that are already there."
"That's tier 2 CS in a nutshell these days. They know they're never going to play in a major, so what's the punishment?"
"All of these tier 2 fucks that are fixing games now they are like the fucking mafia compared to iBuyPower" "These guys are working with organized criminals to fix entire seasons worth of games. That's what's going on in your tier 2 CS."
"I'm literally being told that there are players fixing games at all levels of Chinese esports and motherfuckers with guns are turning up to team houses and stuff."
North America
"Everyone in NA has left we've lost a continents worth of support during this pandemic and Valve haven't said a fucking word."
RL says the Call of Duty "goblins" that destroyed CS for years are the same people who are now trying to leave CS. "The nerve to treat a game where the fans, and the community, and the TO's were nothing but good to you." "To just kick the players out now and go and leave and say 'It just doesn't make financial sense.' Oh you'll slither back when we have a major though for them stickers won't you."
There's a cascading effect in NA where people don't bother with CS anymore and people like Chaos suffer.
He says NA team owners are incompetent for always wanting it easy and always wanting a guarantee on their investment without skill or nuance.
RL says he would be able to market a team correctly and would have a good ROI and also points out how TSM wouldn't even be bothered to tweet that their team, which was one of the best in the world, was playing at the Major.
He also says not all NA owners are like that, compliments and respects Jason Lake who nearly lost everything to keep Complexity going.
He then calls out the incompetence in Infinite Esports when they acquired OpTic Gaming and bought an Indian CS team.
He says HECZ is not to blame here and that they couldn't tell forsaken was cheating when it was so obvious.
They measured his reaction time to the likes of dev1ce and s1mple
When an enemy showed up on his screen he won that duel something like 44% of the time
"was like the number 1 player in the world statistically"
He brought a laptop to their bootcamp and refused to use the high end PCs that hey provided
He respects Andy Miller (NRG CEO) and HECZ but says that the attitude of not being able to easily monetize their teams is "piss weak" and there needs to be a risk.
He says Chaos EC shouldn't be cutting their roster and should be competent enough to be able to figure out how to make money off their team.
He says there are still opportunities in NA and people are panicking and pulling out, and says Valorant will be the same if not worse.
He also says "bums" who couldn't even get out of groups in NA competitions, are making crazy money in Valorant and says it will continue to inflate.
He also said that he heard rumors that EG (Evil Geniuses) are done.
He also thinks that the rumors of a Valve franchised league from before was sparked up from "these lazy fabled weak NA fucking team owners basically trying to see if Valve would bite at the hook if it was dangled and they didn't"
Slasher says NA team owners are really in favor of franchised leagues because they want to make more money. "Most of the powerful team owners right now are on board with ditching this third party organization structure, or they are trying to play this power politics with all the TOs, and that is contributing to a lot of the problems there"
RL says that Riot has proved they can run a franchised league (LCS) and will be profitable in 2021 which is what a lot of team owners care about and says the competition will only serve to snatch people away from CS.
RL continues to say, "I am so sick and tired of what we have done to this scene, I am just exhausted with it." "I think we have legitimately fucked it, I really think we have. I think we're staring into almost like a CGS (Championship Gaming Series) wasteland in NA." "Counter-Strike esports is a fucking joke."
Talent
"TO's have treated CS talent like absolute human garbage for years now."
RL says that people like Sean Gares and ddk switching over to Valorant isn't for financial reasons because they are making less over there.
He points out that TO's can't even give talent a 3 month in advance calendar.
Because of the pandemic TO's won't hire certain people and some people are working more hours for the same money.
He says we as a community don't respect journalists enough which is why we don't have good journalists.
He also says DeKay is leaving the scene soon and that Thorin is close to leaving also
He says he had to talk a caster down from quitting and was struggling to find reasons.
He says that DreamHack told Vince they would hire him but not if he wants to stick with dusT and says that this is the norm in esports. "Constant leveraging of people against each other." and says this is why we don't have a talent union.
New gen casters are getting put into shit situations and the community's reaction to them is adding fuel to the fire
He says the reason Moses left was because of the terrible conditions
He says that Anders had to constantly leave his family and kid because someone fucked up or broke promises and had to constantly tell his kid to their face that "daddy can't be home this weekend."
He says that esports has always been a lie to sell you this dream, "Meanwhile there's about 2% of the cunts getting all the checks."
Valve
"Anything that Riot does, is better than Valve's inaction"
Slasher says that the larger aspect of esports as a whole compared to other entertainment mediums and Valve's lack of inattention are the bigger problems. He continues saying that the fact that Valve let their game be ran as an esport, they need to take on the responsibilities of it.
Both Slasher and RL wants Valve to take control but not on the level of Riot Games, there needs to be a balance.
In case it was ever a question: Gabe Newell has been to 0 CSGO Majors.
RL calls Valve out saying they could have done something during the gambling era.
He says Valve used to come to the majors, but doesn't think they do anymore.
RL had met with Valve at the Cluj-Napoca Major and had tried to appeal iBP's indefinite punishment and had also gave Brax's life story:
A recent family member passed away, they had lost a lot of income, they had to live in trailer, iBuyPower did not pay any salaries, and was pressured by family to make money who didn't support his career.
RL said that Valve told him, "How dare you try and make us feel guilty." "We shouldn't feel bad about enforcing the only thing that matters that we need to make players afraid of: cheating and match fixing"
RL also tried to share other info about match fixing and nothing came of it
RL points out that Source 2 or a new engine is not something you will want based on the experience of transitioning from CS 1.6 to CS:S. "Valve's track record with brand new engines being launched, not fucking great from what I remember."
Slasher says "If there is anything the community should do, is pressure Valve to hire a community manager."
They say that we need a commissioner, a community manager (not the person who runs the Twitter who posts memes all day), then we need to have a circuit
RL reiterates that Valve doesn't care about CS esports and says they need to change the culture at Valve to make them care about CS esports
Slasher says a systemic problem is making it so working on CSGO would be a bad decision for you as an employee for Valve
He also hasn't talked to Valve in ages and have sent over bugs and cheats and doesn't get emails back anymore
Slasher says we should be directing attention at the developer leads, pointing out Ido Magal, if he even is still the project lead
RL thinks that Ido and Brian are the only people that "vaguely even give a fuck about CS" and were the only people that RL recalled that actually read Reddit and paid attention from time to time
"It is really fucking precarious. Somebody has got to step the fuck up and start giving a shit"
Slasher suggests org owners, with CSPPA, with ESIC, with TOs have a concerted effort against Valve
"Riot Games are doing better things than Valve in the esports space" which is something RL didn't think he'd say.
"People who used to be talent, working with unions, arguing with other talent, when the unions fucked them over, can't understand their perspective, TOs fucking over broadcast talent, broadcast talent wanting to leave and go and work for orgs, orgs having no money, Valve might take coaches away because all the coaches are cheating, ESIC has about 4 people in a fucking call doing the investigations, everyone thinks they're spies for ESL, ESL are just the evil fucking overlords wanting to rule the scene and will just somehow, like cockroaches outliving a nuclear bomb, and Valve are in a fucking holiday in Hawaii thinking about the next Dota character because they don't give a fuck about us."
Closing Statements
"We've peaked. If we want to sustain and exist, now is the time to figure it out. No esports lasts as long as this, we've already done 8 years. We've already broke the records. We have got to figure out a way to coexist and drive the negative forces out and we need to do it as a collective and we're not doing that."
RL compared the Counter-Strike scene to the people on the Titanic who ran around with guns robbing people while the boat was sinking.
"We have given up on being a respectable esports scene." "We are now a conduit to make money for those who want to just milk it, just have one last ride, one last roll of the dice. It's done." "What a fucking mess. What have we done to our fucking scene?"
"There's just too much self-interest driving all of this." "I don't see a way we stop the dominoes." "When it's that bad, when there's that many dishonest people that ESIC have to come out and say that if we punish them all there's no one left. What does that tell you?"
"How many opportunities have we had to clean house? How many times have we said, 'this must never happen again', and another scandal." "The entire skins betting operations was the biggest criminal conspiracy in esports ever executed and no one has been punished for it." "The people who could be driving that don't want to."
"Right now people are fans of those organizations because the scene has value. It is worth being a fan of Astralis because they are excellent at Counter-Strike. It is worth being a fan of s1mple because he is the best player in Counter-Strike, maybe the exception of ZywOo. If the scene is devalued, if the scene loses its meaning, those things lose its meaning too, and people will leave, people will stop tuning into the games. I have seen it happen in multiple esports, this is not my first time at the rodeo. I am getting big Brood War vibes right now and I don't like it."
"The role you play in all of this as fans, as viewers, as listeners, as consumers of esports content, it's absolutely imperative that you know who the good guys are. It's absolutely imperative that you use your voice. It's absolutely imperative that when things are bad, you know who, at least, is trying to make them good, and you have to apply your criticism to the right targets."
He continues saying it's no good in continuing to attack ESIC and saying how they are bad, ESIC have it hard
He says CSPPA are on the right side of the argument on BLAST but have been on the wrong side of many arguments many times.
"If you are not willing to stand along side the weakest member of the union, with the least amount of influence, and the least amount of power, then it is not a union at all and you shouldn't pose as one." "You wanna serve a bunch of special interest do it, everyone else in esports fucking does, but do not pose as something you are not." "We love the players. I've been fighting for players rights for as long as I've been able to, but the CSPPA is not what we needed."
"They are not applying the pressure to the right people, they are not fighting the right battles, they are not helping their weaker members."
He says what orgs have done by keeping or hiring coaches is bad. "When you give up on holding an appreciable standard, you've lost the scene" "Competition matters, rules matter, punishments matter, achievements matter, excellence matters" "If you start stripping that away, you have nothing" "You guys need to take that knowledge and apply it sensibly."
"Valve has sold you all down the river, they sold everyone in the esports scene down the river, tournament organizers are selling their talent down the river. Don't hate on them for sounding tired after a 16 hour day. Don't hate on them because the hype for a matchup they've seen for the 20th time in the past 3 months, they can't be as excited or it sounds contrived. Support your guys, they're there for you, these are your people."
"This community has got to start acting like one for the first fucking time. Just put the petty shit away, let's try and fix this fucking scene while we still have one to save."
"You can't rely on Valve, you can't rely on ESL, you can't rely on the CSPPA, you can't rely on anyone." "Once again, it's gonna be the likes of us, the amateurs, the people who give a fuck, rolling up our sleeves and grafting." "I'm old and tired and I don't want to have to do it again. People need to pick up the torch and do it."
"Like Michal did, like Dudenhoeffer did. You see something wrong, fix it. You see somebody doing something wrong, call it out. If you think something could be better, let people know."
"Vote with your wallets if you're not happy with the direction Valve goes in. If when we do get to the Major, they serve up another subpar, same old bullshit stickers and signatures package again, do not buy it."
"You're a powerful block and if you use it correctly we can fucking avert this disaster."
"I'm not doing another year in this broken, bust-up fucking scene, where everyone is miserable, everyone is broke, everyone is tired, and everyone is trying to fucking rob everyone else, blind, while the fucking people who are meant to be protecting you, are just fucking enhancing it and lining their own pockets."
"I'm not doing it anymore and you shouldn't want to do it either."
"I stand by every fucking thing I said. I mean it, because this game fucking matters to me, this scene fucking matters to me. I put my life into this, my adult life, and to see it in this state is fucking sad."
[This Quest is Bullshit] - Chapter 74: Enter the Arena
New? Start here! “Welcome, one and all, to the one-hundred-ninety-seventh annual Proving Grounds! As our queen’s Minister of Public Affairs, I am incredibly proud to present my sixth year organizing this prestigious event. This tournament goes back…” Eve tuned the posh man out, turning left to ask Preston across the empty seat between them, “When’s the fighting start?” The healer shrugged. “Whenever he’s done with his speech. Not sure why we need all the pomp for day one.” Eve had to agree. From her vantage high up in the coliseum seating, the overwhelmingly empty bleachers spoke to the unimportance of the early rounds, at least as far as spectators were concerned. There was a smattering of viewers, predominantly friends and family of the competitors, scattered about the stands, as well as a few higher level individuals that Eve assumed represented the less-successful mercenary groups, but she wouldn’t be impressing much of anyone that day. Hells, the Dragonwrought probably wouldn’t show up until the finals. A few bookies wandered the sparse crowds, offering bets on the first fight of the day, but few accepted. They hadn’t even seen the fighters yet. The long-winded speech continued, “As we wind up for the first bout, I’d like to again thank her holiness Archbishop Callandria for her pivotal role today and throughout the tournament.” A gray-haired woman in priestess robes of gold-lined white and a fancy hat stood and nodded. Eve didn’t need to Appraise her to know her class or that her level would only show as question marks. The minister spoke on. “Without her Cheat Death, we couldn’t hope to present to you all the spectacle that has become so core to Pyrindel’s…” Where’s Wes? Art’s sending drowned out the emcee’s prattling. Preston patted the hatchling—who unlike Reginald could pass as vaguely human with a loose-fitting cloak and hood—on the head. “He’s down there.” The Caretaker pointed at one of the dark archways leading into the bowels of the coliseum. “He’ll come out when it’s his turn to fight.” The buzz of chatter around the arena faded as the announcer finished his speech. “And without further ado, I’d like to welcome out our first competitors! From Pyrindel, a level fifty-six Geomancer, Peter Shind!” Two people on the far side of the coliseum that Eve could only take to be the man’s parents broke out into cheers and applause while the aforementioned Geomancer stepped out onto the sand. “From Barrowsted, a level fifty-two Sword Dancer, Priya Estellian!” Eve had never heard of Barrowsted, and apparently neither had any of the other spectators, as not a single person cheered for the leather clad Sword Dancer. Even so, the stands became a flurry of activity as audience members clambered to place their bets before the fighting started. Unfortunately for Eve, none of the bookies were near enough for her to make her pick. “Contestants! You may begin!” Peter got a spell off before Priya could even take a step. With a wave of his hand, a dozen fist-sized stones broke away from the arena floor, rising to the air. Priya dashed forward. Peter fired. All at once the stone projectiles shot through the air, homing in on the changing swordswoman. She sidestepped them all. The Geomancer was ready though, and another barrage soon followed, each rock’s path curving differently to obscure their destination. Priya drew her first sword. With a flash of enchanted steel and a cascade of sparks, she swung, knocking the stones away. Eve watched wide-eyed as the shrapnel flew through the air, her mind not even computing its path until Preston leapt to his feet. In a display of reaction that put her to shame, the Caretaker threw up a barrier of golden light, his Ayla’s Ward ready to intercept the wayward projectile. It never did. The air before them shimmered and the stone crumbled as it struck an invisible barricade. Preston lowered his ward. He blushed. “Right,” he sheepishly muttered, “arena’s enchanted for that.” Eve reached across Wes’s empty seat to patronizingly pat him on the back. “It’s alright. At least you did something. I was about to just sit and watch that rock kill me.” A flash of golden light pulled Eve’s attention back to the fight just in time to watch Peter Shind collapse to the ground. Priya stood over him, one sword bloodied and another still in its sheath. “Victor: Priya Estellian!” “She looks strong.” Eve watched as a pair of healers rushed out to stabilize the fallen Geomancer. Cheat Death might’ve kept his head attached to his shoulders, but it sure as hells didn’t stop the bleeding. “They’re all strong,” Preston replied. “It’s a tournament for tier 4s and high-rarity tier 3s.” For his part, Art was too busy furiously clapping his taloned hands as the Sword Dancer took a bow and vacated the arena. Who’s next? Next, as it turned out, were two plate-wearing juggernauts that spent the better part of an hour bashing their shields against each other until one finally ran out of Stamina. Eve paid the dull exchange little heed, though she did make a note of the victor’s name just in case he managed something more impressive in the later rounds. The party did need a new tank, after all. Not even Art offered much in the way of applause as the second bout ended, though that changed promptly as the emcee announced a certain Disciple of the Devouring Flame from Nowherested. While the hatchling and Preston cheered in support of their friend, Eve looked over the archer he found himself up against. “How much you wanna bet that Wes takes an arrow to the face?” Preston shrugged. “Five silver?” “Done.” Eve shook his hand. “Contestants! You may begin!” The archer nocked an arrow. Wes erupted in flames. The mage himself became a living inferno as he activated Forged in Flames. He stepped forward. Around him the sand itself caught fire, the blaze creeping outward first in inches, then in feet. With his second spell, Wes expanded the firestorm around him, spreading the cloak into a massive wall. With her sharp eyes, Eve could just make out his silhouette moving within the flames. As the first arrow flew wide, it became clear that Wes’s opponent couldn’t. Eve had to admit it was a wise strategy. His Flame Jet couldn’t out-speed a well-aimed Huntsman’s Arrow, so it made sense to hide his position and let the inexorable blaze do its work. And work it did. The archer fired shot after shot as he desperately backpedalled from the spreading flames, slowly running out of places to run. Eve watched with a grin as one random arrow flew but inches from Wes’s shoulder, but the Disciple fought on. It wasn’t until Eve herself felt the heat of the blaze kiss her skin that she noticed the tournament official frantically waving both arms at the emcee. “Halt!” The air boomed with the minister’s shout. “Competitors, lay down your arms!” The archer dropped his bow. The fire spread on, carefully climbing the walls of the coliseum. “I said halt!” All at once the flames vanished, revealing Wes where he stood in the arena’s center. “Did I win?” “Contestant Wesley Rollund is hereby disqualified for, and I can’t believe I’m about to say this, burning the wards.” “I’m what?” Wes outburst. In his customary nasally tone, the emcee explained. “Forces beyond our ability to protect the crowd are disallowed in all tournament matches. How a tier 3 came into possession of such is another question. Yern Binne is the victor by default.” The crowd gaped. Art applauded. Eve dug out five silver from her pocket, paying Preston his winnings. “Thank you, thank you,” the Caretaker accepted the coins. “Better luck next time.” “That’s okay,” Eve said, “I can always shoot him myself if I get the urge.” Only once the enchanters finished repairing Wes’s damage and the next bout was underway did the fire mage emerge into the stands, climbing his way up the stone steps to take his seat between Eve and Preston. “Well, it’s not quite the crushing win I was hoping for, but I’m sure it’ll impress the mercenary companies.” “You mean all three of them that actually showed up today?” Eve needled him. “I’m sure the bottom-feeders were very impressed.” Wes shrugged. “Word’ll get around. It’s not often they disqualify someone for being too powerful.” “Maybe next time you should attack your opponent instead of the wards,” Eve snapped back. “Speaking of,” Preston interrupted as the bout in front of them ended with a brutal ice bolt to the chest, “aren’t you up soon?” “Yeah, yeah.” Eve pushed herself to her feet. “It’s not like I have much prep to do.” She gestured over herself, emphasizing that she already wore her armor. “You should still get down there,” Wes said. “Those tunnels are a damned maze.” “Alright, damn,” Eve replied, turning to leave the stands. “It’s not like I’m gonna get lost.” Eve got lost. After losing some twenty minutes running back and forth down the twisting passages beneath the arena, the Defiant found herself standing in the same archway as her opponent, a brooding berserker-type with more muscles than charisma. “Whoops, wrong entrance,” she said, “guess I got turned around.” He grunted at her. Just as Eve moved to again start searching for her entrance, the emcee’s voice echoed in from outside. “First we have… hmmm… a level fifty-one Emissary from New Burendia, Evelia Greene!” “Shit—um—sorry,” Eve muttered, running past the dark figure and out into the arena. Her face flushed red as she dashed across the sands to take her place on the opposite side. “She’ll be facing one of our tournament favorites, a level sixty-three Hewer of Bones from the Salfdir Clan, Roric Ironarm!” Eve got her first look at her opponent as he stepped into the sunlit arena. He stood six and a half feet tall and what must’ve been nearly three hundred pounds of pure muscle. Eve could tell because from the waist up, every inch of that muscle was exposed to the open air. In each hand he carried a single-edged axe, both of which showed the marks of countless battles fought and won. He’s perfect. High level tournament favorite or otherwise, Eve couldn’t have asked for a better matchup. Her griffin-bone club outranged his one-handed axes, and she doubted a Hewer of Bones had any good ways to stop her Defiant Charge. She readied her weapon. “Contestants! You may begin!” Eve Jetted forward, activating Charge and Mana Rush at the same moment. I may as well end this quick, she thought to herself. Roric did the same, dashing forth to meet her head on. He pulled back his axes for a brutal two-handed strike. But Eve’s club was longer, and she made the first attack. Her heart raced as the griffin-bone swung through the air, her muscles only holding up to their own immense Strength thanks to the Constitution bonus from Defiant Charge. It was exhilarating. Even here, without the direct threat of a painful death, adrenaline pumped through Eve’s veins. Her attack flew true, the flared tip of the huge bone shooting towards Roric’s head at an unfathomable speed. Until it wasn’t. The blow stopped short, striking an impenetrable barricade of golden light. The rebound sent Eve’s club flying from her grasp. For a moment she froze, staring forward in abject terror before she realized her opponent was just as shocked as she was. It wasn’t the announcer’s posh voice which broke the silence, but the wizened one of a particular Archbishop. “She wins,” the elderly priestess’s words echoed across the arena. “Evelia Greene is the victor.” “Ramtshit!” Roric bellowed. “That wasn’t Cheat Death.” “Cheat Death wouldn’t have saved you. Not against that.” “That’s ramtshit!” The berserker repeated. “Let me fight!” The Archbishop didn’t reply, simply turning to whisper something into the ear of one of her aides. Said aide carried the message on to the announcer. With wide eyes and barely noticeable quiver to his tone, the minister addressed the crowd. “Archbishop Callandria has been kind enough to bestow a Divine Intervention to halt an attack that would’ve overcome even Cheat Death. Evelia Greene is the victor.” Roric raged. “You didn’t even let me fight! I demand a rematch.” “Roric Ironarm,” the announcer continued, “is eliminated.” From there, the over-muscled brawler engaged in a shouting match with the tournament organizer. Eve, meanwhile, took the opportunity to collect her club from where it’d fallen and vacate the arena. Berserkers had a penchant for getting angry, after all, and easy as her win had come, she’d prefer not to fight him again without the protection of Cheat Death. She re-navigated the maze of tunnels with a sly grin. Sure, she had a pissed-off Hewer of Bones to worry about, but Eve couldn’t have asked for a more decisive victory. An Emissary beating a tournament favorite so bad the Archbishop herself had to intervene made for two hells of a story. If her goal was to impress the mercenary companies, this was a damned good first step. And she still had an entire tournament left. PreviousNext Leave a Review! | Cover | Discord | Patreon | Map | Mailing List
New? Start here! https://preview.redd.it/2zar1m85xjf61.png?width=1600&format=png&auto=webp&s=45361941276c90a28a2cf665851c61ea32993b14 “So,” Eve started as she led her companions through the broad thoroughfares of Pyrindel, “how much did you bet on me?” “Not much,” Wes replied, disappointment in his voice. “Odds were eighteen to one against you, and the bookies only carry a hundred silver in these earlier. Only let me wager five.” He grinned. “Still cleaned him out, though.” Eve shook her head. “Shame. Doubt I’ll ever get odds that good again.” Preston snorted. “You beat a tournament favorite so bad the Archbishop herself had to intervene. If you’re not predicted to win every match until the finals those bookies are drunk.” Wes exhaled. “I’m still disappointed none of you bet on me.” “I bet against you,” Eve said, “but that was with Preston. None of the bookies were close enough when you stepped up.” “And I’m glad they weren’t,” Preston added. “You technically lost, remember?” “Only technically,” Wes replied. “And now I don’t have to fight through a whole tournament to make an impression. I’d count that as a win.” “That’s exactly what a loser would say,” Eve teased. “No, I’m pretty sure losers say ‘ramtshit, I demand a rematch!’” Wes gave his best Roric impression. “What even is a ramt?” Preston asked. Eve shrugged. “Hells if I know. And I actually feel a bit sorry for him.” Preston raised an eyebrow. “Sorry for him, or sorry for his muscles?” Eve ignored him. “I mean, imagine traveling all this way, grinding up to level sixty-three, and being named one of the tournament favorites, just to be paired against me in round one. It’s really not fair.” “Feeling humble tonight, are we?” Wes chuckled. Eve flashed a grin. “It’s not my fault I’m so great.” Preston rolled his eyes. “I’m just curious what they’re gonna do for your next match. There’s a reason we had to wait an hour for the bout after yours. Divine Intervention isn’t cheap.” “Really? It looked an awful lot like a fancy version of your Ayla’s Ward.” The healer nodded. “That’s because it pretty much is. Divine Intervention is a tier 5 upgrade to Ayla’s Bulwark, which is a tier 4 upgrade to Ayla’s Ward. Get me to level a hundred and I can start doing it too. That doesn’t answer the question though. Archbishop Callandria can’t keep using it every time you fight, both for Mana reasons and because if she casts it too soon it’d end the bout unfairly and if she casts it too late your opponent dies. Roric’s lucky she was as quick as she was today.” “Maybe they’ll schedule me for the end of the day? At least that way the next match won’t be delayed while the Archbishop recovers her Mana.” Preston continued, “That still leaves her with the task of deciding your matches before you even land a blow. You saw how pissed Roric was today, and even if it’s the only way to keep your opponents alive, if you fight through the whole tournament like this, there will always be a question of whether you truly deserved to win.” “So what am I supposed to do?” Eve asked. “Just kill ‘em in the ring?” “Well, no,” the Caretaker answered. “But you might consider toning down the Mana Rush a bit. You just need enough Strength to trigger Cheat Death; you don’t need to wipe out their entire bloodline from the annals of history.” “That doesn’t seem quite fair,” she argued. “How am I supposed to know how much Strength is enough? What if Roric had a defensive skill I didn’t know about? Too little Strength and I could just outright lose the match.” Wes snorted. “Mana Rush isn’t fair. Asking you to rein it in is absolutely reasonable.” Preston nodded. “Would you rather your opponents wind up dead? Or maybe the tournament officials will disqualify you like they did Wes.” “I doubt that,” Eve said. “The competitors knew Cheat Death wasn’t perfect when they signed up, and I’m not a threat to the spectators, the coliseum, and Pyrindel itself.” “Hey,” Wes protested, “I only burned the enchantments a little.” “Oh, you mean the enchantments put there to stop wayward spells from murdering audience members? The ones specifically stopping your fire from burning the arena to a crisp? Those enchantments?” Eve laughed. “Well as long as it was only a little.” When can I try? Art, who’d been thus far quietly reading the thoughts of passersby, joined the conversion. I wanna fight! Preston patted him on his feathered head. “The tournament is for humans, Art. I don’t think it’d be fair to let a Trellac enter.” But Eve’s not human! Art insisted. And Wes is only half human. Wes rubbed his temples. “Do… do I want to know what the other half is?” Half idiot! The hatchling cheerfully sent. Wes frowned. Preston snorted. Eve cackled. After several moments of belly-shaking, tear-welling laughter, the Defiant finally managed to collect herself enough to address Wes and Preston’s questioning looks. “What? You’re not the only one who can teach him things.” “And you went with ‘half human, half idiot’?” “Hey,” Preston said with a slight smile of his own, “at least you’re not a full idiot.” Eve affectionately ruffed the feathers atop Art’s head. “Flawless timing, kid. Excellent work.” The Trellac replied with a simple wave of pure emotional pride, not enough to actually influence anyone else’s own state of mind, but plenty to understand his meaning. “Now let’s get you back to the suite,” Preston said as the palace gates came into view. “I’m sure Reginald will want to hear all about today’s fights.” “And while we’re at it—” Eve paused to flag down a passing page to request a cask of ale and a few plates of food as they stepped into the lavish hall— “I think a celebration is in order.” Preston raised an eyebrow. “A celebration? It’s only round one.” “Sure, but there’s still a few days before round two, and we have one decisive win and one… whatever Wes did to celebrate.” The fire mage shrugged. “Good enough for me. And mine was definitely a win. I just won so hard the arena couldn’t handle it.” Eve patronizingly patted him on the back. “Whatever you tell yourself so you don’t go crying into your massive signing bonus with Hard Company.” “I’ve already told you, I’m not signing with Hard Com…” Wes exhaled. “You know what? Maybe a celebration is in order. Just so I have an excuse to drink enough ale to forget your Hard Company jokes.” “Now that’s more like it.” Eve opened the door to her suite, leading the way into the luxurious bedchamber. “The night is young, the food is free, and the ale will flow just like the bad jokes.” “I hope not,” Preston said. “The ale’s supposed to go into your mouth, not out from it.” “Yeah,” Wes agreed, “let’s not have one of those nights.” Eve opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off when a knock rang out at the chamber door. But a moment later, a procession of liveried servants marched in with several trays of roast meats, hearty stews, and buttery fish, as well as the all-important small keg. Eve didn’t even wait for them to leave before pouring herself a tankard. “A toast,” she called, “to beating the tournament itself.” Wes fetched himself a glass, raising it to the air. “Cheers to that. It’s absolute ramtshit, but cheers to that.” “To ramtshit!” Preston added. Eve grinned, taking a swig before echoing the sentiment. “To ramtshit!” —— Eve awoke the next morning feeling like ramtshit. The trouble, she’d learned, with being a Manaheart, is that in order to experience any level of intoxication, she had to completely overwhelm her body’s ability to convert the alcohol into Mana. The process, however, left her needing to drink a truly unreasonable amount of water to stave off the morning after, a task she’d failed miserably the prior night. At least with a bit of food and water her Ethereal Metabolism would have her right as rain sooner rather than later. After a moment spent rubbing her aching temples, the reason for her abrupt awakening reasserted itself. Eve! Art’s sending overshadowed the polite yet unceasing knocking at her door. The silly man wants to talk with you. Grumbling something about waking her up being anything but silly, Eve forced herself to her feet and crossed the bedchamber, caring little for the wrinkled state of the clothes she’d slept in. She yanked open the door to reveal Art accompanied by Wes, Preston standing in the antechamber, both looking far too alert given last night’s festivities. No doubt Preston had a few Lesser Healing-sized holes in his Mana pool. In front of them all stood Charles, his fist poised to knock yet again at the wooden door. “What do you want?” Eve half spoke half grunted. The Steward dropped into his customary, unnecessarily extravagant bow. “Your excellency,” he greeted. “Lord Traft, military advisor to her majesty Queen Elric, has requested I arrange a meeting with you. I believe he wishes to discuss a potential defensive alliance with the people of New Burendia. What time might I let his lordship know you’re available?” Eve froze. “I um…” She dragged the syllable out, her sluggish mind racing to summon any excuse to avoid negotiating treaties for her nonexistent kingdom. From behind the still-bowing Steward, Wes and Preston glared at her. It was only as her belly began to loudly rumble that Eve’s pounding head managed to form some semblance of an idea. “I’m sorry,” she said in the haughtiest voice she could conjure her tired state, “but I simply cannot make plans on an empty stomach. Would you be so kind as to fetch me a loaf of bread to break my fast?” “A loaf of bread.” The Steward nodded. “Of course, your excellency. I am at your service.” With that, he turned on his heel and swung open the front door, vanishing into the ostentatious hallway. Eve grinned. “That oughta keep him busy for a while.” “That was cruel,” Preston said flatly. “You’re gonna get him killed.” “Nah, more likely he finds out the oven’s broken so he has to go into town, buys the bread, then finds the queen herself also wants bread this morning so he gives it to her, and she loves it so much she gives him a promotion and he forgets all about Lord Traft and his meeting with me.” Wes stared at her. “That’s… an oddly specific prediction.” Eve shrugged. “That or something else equally ridiculous but ultimately harmless. Even the bakeries I’ve burned down didn’t actually hurt anybody. Charles’ll be fine.” “Alright,” Preston backed down, “but you’d better tip the poor man in gold when he inevitably comes back empty-handed after scouring every oven in Pyrindel for your bread.” “Sounds fair.” Eve nodded. “He deserves it too, if only for dealing with nobles all day.” “Nobles and you,” Wes added. “You’re high on his list of headaches too, you know.” “Sure am,” Eve chimed, “but I’m number one on your list of headaches.” “That you are, Eve.” Wes patted her on the back. “That you are.” “Speaking of headaches…” “Yeah, yeah.” She didn’t even need to finish her sentence for Preston to understand her meaning, lifting a hand to channel golden radiance across the room. Eve shuddered under Ayla’s invasive judgement, both of the self-inflicted damage she’d done in the name of last night’s celebration, and of the fool’s errand she’d just gifted the hapless Steward. Even as her hangover vanished and the goddess’s light faded, a shadow of guilt remained. She shrugged it away. Her life’s quest really hadn’t hurt anybody so far, she thought. Why should it start now? It wasn’t as if she’d sent the defenseless Steward into a dungeon, or anything. He might return a bit scraped up, a bit exhausted from chasing shadows all over town, but otherwise, Eve was sure that Charles would come out unharmed. Probably. PreviousNext Leave a Review! | Discord | Patreon | Map | Mailing List I'm trying out including the cover at the start of chapter posts. Let me know what you think!
First | Previous | Next The crowd mostly erupted in cheers for the human. There were some quiet sections, most notably among the eldrin who likely had reason to not want their pet soldiers to appear weak, but the human section of the crowd seemed to have lost all reason. They started a rhythmic chant that was loud enough that Maeve was forced to wait before she could move on to other announcements; her lips pursed in annoyance when they kept it up despite her gesturing for silence. Thump thump. “PE-TER!” Thump thump. “PE-TER!” For his part, Peter just looked embarrassed at the attention he was getting from his fellow humans. Draevin saw him glance his way for just a second and he and Tenna gave him an excited wave. He responded with a brief wave of his own before walking over to commiserate with the werebeast he’d just defeated. “He won!” Tenna shouted, hopping out of her seat and clapping with enthusiasm. Sylnya wrapped Tenna in a hug and jumped up and down with her. “He won! He actually won!” “You seem surprised for someone that bet on him, Sylnya. I’m just impressed he managed to do it without using up his spell scroll,” Draevin told her while clapping along. By the time the cheering died down Peter had walked off stage. When he showed up to their booth he had Grrbraa in tow. “So I was thinking this booth could do with some extra security,” Peter announced first thing. “As long as we’re all going to be watching the matches anyways, we might as well do it together.” “I think that’s a great idea,” Draevin agreed. Thoughts of Caelnaste arranging another attack had been occupying a worrisome corner of Draevin’s mind. Having a friendly beast with such keen senses nearby offered a measure of relief. It would certainly make her scheming more difficult. “Well I for one would love to get to know Grrbraa a little better,” Tenna said. Grrbraa spoke in his deep rumbling voice. “My mothers told me I should…” He hesitated and looked down at the ground. “…get to know some other people. They told me Peter and his friends were good.” He looked up and added more confidently, “I am very good at extra security. I can bark at master-Caelnaste if you want.” Draevin noticed his tail wag back and forth at the last part of his speech. “We will be having a brief intermission at this time,” Maeve announced to the crowd. Down on the field a team of workers were digging up and replacing a large section of dirt around where Peter had stood. The judges were no doubt furious that Peter had managed to eke out some small advantage from the otherwise carefully-neutral field when he absorbed some of the mana left over from Anise’s blood. They’d make sure that didn’t happen again. “I know there might be a bit of a line,” Draevin announced, “but I’d feel a lot more comfortable with a full mana pool. I’m going to use The Pot real quick.” “I’ll go with you,” Peter said automatically. “Grrbraa and I’s match drained me.” “I will go as well,” Grrbraa said, “for extra security.” “Much appreciated,” Draevin told him. “I guess I’ll go too,” Tenna said. “If everyone else is going.” Sylnya let out a dramatic sigh. “Well I’m not going to sit here by myself. Did I mention I almost killed Caelnaste yesterday? I expect she’s got some plan for me if I don’t stick with the group.” Peter led the way as he was already closest to the exit. Much of the crowd was making their way out of their seats in search of food and goblins were slipping between them in search of opportunities. When the few of the creatures they came across saw Grrbraa though they scattered. Draevin decided that was a nice perk of having him around. “So why did you call Caelnaste ‘master-Caelnaste?’” Tenna asked Grrbraa while they walked. “You know she’s a bad guy, don’t you?” “Yes,” Grrbraa answered, “the title of master is not a compliment.” “Think of it like calling you the d-word,” Peter chimed in. That made a certain amount of sense to Draevin. Werebeasts weren’t generally treated well by their masters. Caldenia didn’t use werebeasts, but even if they did at least they had laws in place to protect their slaves from the harsh conditions of Eldesia’s chattel slaves. When the group of them turned the corner to enter the tunnel that led outside the arena Peter literally bumped into the dark-skinned human Draevin had met this morning. He was chatting in the entryway with Alex and the two of them had little burning paper sticks they were sucking on to inhale the smoke. They seemed to be inhaling the smoke on purpose. The very concept was disturbing to Draevin. He thought that with their short lives humans would be more careful with them, but it seemed just the opposite. “Oh, hey there guys,” Alex greeted them with a half-lidded expression on his face. He let out a small cough. “Rashad here was just showing me canada.” “Canne’ka,” Rashad corrected. Alex shrugged and offered out his burning stick to the group at large. “It’s a Kreet thing,” he explained, “anyone want to try it?” “Canne’ka is an expensive luxury in Kreet,” Rashad said with a smile. “It’s enjoyed in only the finest ch-charnel hOUsesssss!” before he could finish what he was saying, both he and Alex broke out into unexplainable laughter. “Finest!” Alex added, slapping Rashad’s back before once again losing his ability to speak. “You’re right!” Rashad said. “It’s a strange word indeed!” Draevin and his friends looked between each other, but none of them seemed to know what was going on, though Tenna looked to be smiling sympathetically. “Was that supposed to be a joke?” Draevin asked. Rashad finally stood and took a few deep breaths. “Canne’ka iss a common weed in the desssertss of Kreet,” he explained. He’d let a bit of his kreetish accent slip in, elongating a few of his S’s. Now that Draevin knew to look for it, he could even notice a drooping of Rashad’s dark eyelids as well. Alex took a quick puff on his paper tube; just enough to brighten the cherry on the end and offered it forth again. “It’s good fun,” he said, “are there really no takers?” Peter was the closest. He held up the flat of his hand to block the proffered stick. “No thanks,” he said, “I’ve got to keep my head clear to watch all the fighting going on.” Alex pulled the stick back from him. “Your loss.” He took a drag. “How about you, Drae?” he asked. Smoke escaped his mouth as he talked. “I prefer to live a long and healthy life.” “Suit yourself,” Alex replied. He turned his head to let out the rest of the smoke in his lungs. While his head was turned, Tenna reached forward and snatched the burning paper tube from Alex’s fingers, which only caused the human to laugh pleasantly in surprise. “I’ll try it,” she said. “What do you call this thing?” “We call that a joint,” Rashad said. “Tenna!” Draevin scolded. “You still have a match today!” She stopped with the joint halfway to her mouth. “It wears off quick,” Alex reassured her. “When’s your match?” She shrugged. “At least an hour… if I decide to go through with it that is,” she said, and took a drag. The cherry at the end of the joint lit up for only a second before she broke out into a coughing fit. Alex and Rashad seemed to think something about her coughing was uproariously funny and immediately dropped to their knees cackling so loud they quite literally couldn’t keep their feet. The spectacle of it didn’t make much sense. “Come on guys,” Draevin said, “it’s not that funny.” “Everything’s funny on Canne’ka!” Rashad said. He stood up and offered his own joint to Draevin. “Come on, elf. Live a little.” Draevin took a step back. “I already said no,” he repeated firmly. “Don’t be such a senesha!” He turned to Sylnya instead. “How about you, dryad?” “Call me Sylnya,” she answered, “and I’m afraid I’ll have to pass. I’ve tried it before and it doesn’t work on us. Different biology.” “Shame,” Alex said. “So I’m told.” Draevin spoke up in the brief gap in conversation. “I think we need to get moving to The Pot if we want to get back before the intermission.” “Look at this coward!” Rashad said. “He won’t even touch me!” He took a step towards Draevin and reached out a hand, waggling it around as he did so. When he’d gotten sort of close he jabbed his hand at Draevin, but found that he was ready for the move. Draevin jumped back and snapped his wand out of his holster defensively. He pushed just enough mana to the tip to get it condensing mist. He didn’t have a huge supply of mana available but it was more than enough to deal with a shadowman. “Boo!” Rashad said and then laughed loudly like it was all a joke. This time not even Alex joined in. “Come on, Rashad,” Peter chastised. “You know he doesn’t want to touch you.” Grrbraa leaned in and growled menacingly at the shadowman, but before things escalated any further, Alex intervened. He grabbed Rashad, who was still shaking with laughter, by the shoulder. “He’s just high,” he offered. “No need to take offense.” “Sure,” Draevin agreed, but he didn’t holster his wand. “Maybe we should just go.” Alex smiled. “Sorry about this. You’re all welcome to come by the camp tonight for dinner.” Draevin trudged off for The Pot without waiting to see if anyone would follow. All this time with Peter had let him forget why he’d normally avoided spending time with humans. Tenna was the first to catch up. “I don’t think he meant anything by it,” she explained. “Besides, he has a point about your not wanting to touch him.” “I didn’t see you shaking hands,” Draevin commented dryly. “I would!” she objected. “I just… don’t know him that well yet.” “Well I strongly advise you to reconsider. I’ve had friends die from merely touching a shadowman. It isn’t some silly superstition.” “Oh?” someone else asked behind them. It was Peter’s voice. “When was that?” Grrbraa lagged behind him, keeping his ears perked for imagined danger. Sylnya leaned in and said something in Peter’s ear. “It was only…” Draevin stopped and did the mental math on how long ago it’d been since he fought for Caldenia in the Tak’heem aggression. He was surprised when the math told him a much larger number than he’d been expecting. “It was when I was young,” he finished, not wanting to admit to the specific date. “So centuries ago?” Tenna asked. She laughed a bit too loud at her own joke. Draevin kept his face carefully flat, not wanting to let on that she was actually correct even though she’d clearly thrown out a number she thought was ridiculously large. “How long ago isn’t important,” Draevin said. “You do know there are dark-skinned humans that aren’t shadowmen, don’t you?” Peter asked. “There are? But the shadowmen—” “The shadowmen are only one tribe of humans that live down in Kreet,” Peter explained, “but all humans from that land have dark skin. It’s just from all the sun they get down there.” “So Rashad isn’t a shadowman?” Draevin hadn’t realized that was possible. Perhaps he’d been overly protective of his personal space around the man. “Well no,” Peter admitted, “Rashad is, but that doesn’t mean you have to paint all dark skinned-humans with the same brush.” “I’ll try to keep that in mind,” Draevin said with a hint of sarcasm touching his voice. Tenna giggled. “Oh, funny joke Peter! Paint them. Wish a brush!” The group made it to the back of the line for The Pot and Draevin was pleased to see it was relatively short. He’d hoped that would be the case. The later into the tournament it got, the fewer wizards needed its mana. “You know, I liked you more before I learned how rude you can be,” Tenna told Draevin out of nowhere. “Sorry?” Draevin wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say to that. She let out a huff of breath. Her eyelids had started to droop just a bit. “Hey Peter,” she said. “Do you want to see my impression of Draevin having dinner?” Peter looked up from the notepad he’d been jotting in with a crooked smile. “I think I can guess,” he said. Tenna held both hands before her face like she was eating and proceeded to rapidly shake them back and forth in an imitation of shoveling food into her mouth. She opened wide and let her tongue hang out and made a disgusting racket of slurping. “Splch grch kth gyo,” she sounded. Draevin smacked one of her wrists gently. “Hey!” She broke down laughing and this time Peter decided to join in, Canne’ka or not. With all the joking they’d reached the front of the line. “Are you here to use The Pot or is this a social outing?” Perseus asked in annoyance. The Guild elf narrowed his eyes at them. Tenna pointed to the guild badge on his chest. “Tell me Perseus,” she asked, “do they take your sense of humor from you when they issue you that thing?” Perseus scowled and placed his hands on his hips. “If you’re not here to use The Pot I’m going to have to ask you to—” “Relax,” Draevin told him, stepping forward, “I’ll go first.” The rest of the group cycled through quick enough with Grrbraa going last. “We should really get back,” Peter said when they’d all gathered back together. “I’ve got to face the winner of the next match in round three.” Sylnya gave Peter a playful shove. “Don’t worry,” she told him. “I won’t try to kill you.” An idea occurred to Draevin now that they were headed back to the arena, but he’d need to get separated from Tenna to pull it off. The group took off down the hill and Draevin announced, “I should go with Sylnya to the start of her match.” “You should?” Sylnya asked. “Yeah. I think her and I can handle anything that comes up just fine. Why don’t the rest of you head back to the booth together and I’ll return after I drop her off.” “That would have you walking back alone,” Peter pointed out. “I shouldn’t have to remind you that you’re Caelnaste’s primary target.” “I think I can handle a short walk in a public space,” he insisted. When the group got close to the massive stone walls that encompassed the perimeter of the arena they could hear the noisy chatter that filled in the space between matches. They made their way inside before getting to a fork. “This is where I break off,” Sylnya said. “Draevin, are you coming?” “Yup.” He waved to Peter, Grrbraa and Tenna. “See you all in a bit,” he promised. As soon as the two groups separated Sylnya turned to Draevin. “Okay, you going to tell me what’s going on now?” “What do you mean? What makes you say that?” “I’ve known you for decades,” Sylnya insisted. “I know when you’re planning something.” “Okay fine,” Draevin admitted. “I won’t say anything about your visit to the betting cages if you don’t mention my visit to Unit-17.” “Unit-17? The trunstown bot? You want to talk to it?” “That’s the plan.” “That’s a stupid fucking plan.” Index | Next| Patreon | Discord
JoJo's Bizarre OC Tournament #5: Round 3 Match 6 Anthony ‘Ani’ Oakey and Kamen Rider Volt Versus ?????
The results are in for Match 4. The winner is… Rushen walked out across the training ground after the four hours had concluded, a beaming smile on his face as she walked up to the four trainers. “Looks like I made some real good choices on you guys, huh? Really put these guys through the ringer!” The various trainees stood around chatting with each other about their different experiences throughout the day before forming an orderly line once their leader came into view. Many were exhausted, yet at the same time, there was a certain sense of camaraderie there, high spirits… They felt ready to take on the world, yet they were starting to think they may not necessarily need to think of everyone as a potential enemy either. Fira tilted her head back before taking a few steps forward. “Look, Rushen, compliments don’t keep the lights on or teeth perfect. You gonna pay us or not?” Rushen took a quick step back and pulled out several light blue envelopes and handed them to both the pairs. “Figured you two would want yours in cash… Don’t lemme hear you spent it on nothing shady, alright?” Fira almost smiled as she felt what must have been a decent stack of crisp bills. A smirk would do. “That’s satisfactory, yeah.” Byte, then, gave her an expectant look, only to be handed an even-looking cut. “Alright, fine.” Cab and Inch, meanwhile, simply thanked Rushen for theirs, receiving it through checks as normal people tended to prefer receiving large payments for services. After payment had been dispersed Rushen took a step back and looked over the paris. “Listen, the boss is impressed with both of you, but she specifically requested that two of you come to speak with her in her office…” Right… The bonus, huh? The four guest instructors stood, then, tensely… So it was only one team getting it, huh? “Sauvignon, Nine, c’mon.” Rushen jerked his thumb. “Allday’s a busy woman. Best not to make her wait.” The Black Hill Estate, with a score of 76 to Graveyard Shift’s 69!
“Fira, Byte, you two can go home now… Keep an eye on Elephant Bones. Good eats there. Think between that and what you could do with that gym next door, you’d be better off going legit.” Byte took an instinctive step forward in protest. “What the hell do you mean? How’s a regimen like theirs gonna get a meeting with the big boss?” Rushen shrugged and turned away before speaking. “Not my call. You two did good work, though… Really. Remember that when you’re countin’ out your bills there.” Byte sighed, then, turning to Fira, who shrugged. “Let’s get something to eat, I guess… That’s something to do. What’s even open right now?” Rushen saw the quartet off in their separate ways with a sigh, folding his arms. Today was a good day… Now, I only hope tomorrow’s as good. The day these recruits and I take down a whole crime ring is fast approaching, and even beyond that… Ugo ain’t just gonna go quietly. I am damn sure he’s gonna start something with that Neighborhood Watch he helped fold into us in Aurelio, and with Oxbow breathing down our necks until we can get peace worked out West of there, I can’t do a thing but hope they don’t act before it’s safe to disband them. Within the next fifteen minutes Cab and Inch were in an elevator going to the top floor of one of the most imposing buildings in the city: ODIN HQ. As they rose Cab turned to Inch, his brow furrowed. “How much do we even know about this Miss. Allday anyways? You don’t see her around much, just hear her talked about in the news, politicians and protesters and the like… I only really see anything concrete in the form of projects she slaps that name of hers on.” Inch thought for a moment and spoke. “It… It is a paradox to me, yes. Strange that someone so invested in this city is at once so elusive from it.” She turned to the ticing floor tracker at the top of the elevator steadily going up. “In any case this is a good opportunity. I doubt that people like us get many chances to meet with her, let alone requested by her.” With that the elevator door slowly opened revealing a large, open office space with a multitude of white boards and empty parfait cups scattered across the space. “Nine, Sauvignon… Correct? It is a pleasure to meet you.” Sitting in the middle at a large, glass desk sat a white-haired woman with as welcoming of a smile as she could muster at the time. The effort of goodwill seemed earnest, but big smiles seemed uncomfortable and foreign on her face. “My name is Arazu Allday… Though, I suppose you didn’t need to be told that. Ergh, I’m not good at niceties…” She shook her head, quiet and frowning a moment, before looking up with a sterner sort of warmth. “I wanted to thank you personally for your approach to aiding Mr. Smith in instruction. Sure, the combat lessons were good and fine, but the wise know that is far from the only thing this new generation of VALKYRIE needed to learn.” “I’ll cut to the chase. You’ve done a great thing for us as a company, developing a regimen specifically to take the toxicity of Ugo McBaise and the ‘wisdom’ that he descended from out of those recruits' heads. I think now, they’re on a better track. With all that out of the way though, before we talk more, would either of you like a refreshment? As you can tell, sweetness does not come easy to me, but… Perhaps a parfait would substitute for that.” There’s still a few hours left yet, as of posting this, to vote and make your voices heard in a bitter 2v2 Battle in a Stairwell. Scenario: Sound’s Garden Eastern Strip - Fox’s Penthouse Apartment “Alright, Toby, you’re doing great! You’re recovering faster than any client I’ve ever had, even… You’ll be running marathons by Summertime like this!” Toby Fox, the elusive shadow boss of the Entertainment District’s underworld, managed to step away from the bars that his physical therapist had set up for him, limping slightly, yet at the same time, confident in his progress. He had been shot months ago, twice in places where a few centimeters off could have paralyzed him for life, or even killed him, yet he’d managed to be up on his feet, if weakly, before the year had even ended. It would’ve gone a lot faster had he felt safe patronizing the Devil Blue, but… No. Peres Straviat was friendly with No, and with the University Board. Healing up the hard way, out of the public eye, had to do. He rested his feet in the sand garden he’d made into a workout space, curling his toes against the grains and drinking from a water bottle as the therapist smiled at him. She had a very affable, can-do attitude about her, and he was certain this motivating presence had helped him along as well. “A fresh start, then… That’s what this is. Tigran and I, we’re clearing our heads of all that nonsense about expansion, and getting back to the roots of what made our enterprise lasting… Intimate, guerilla shows of Stand Users coerced into beating one another senseless!” “That’s the spirit, Mr. Fox! Oh, Tigran will be delighted to hear you’re in high spirits again! I bet that-” She paused, then, going silent, before removing a pistol from her tracksuit. “…I just heard something. Someone’s outside. Sounds like a few people… I hear the distinctive shakes of body armor.” “A raid? How didn’t you notice sooner, with those ears of yours? If… If the sounds were drowned out, then…” He shook his head, the sand around him beginning to swirl into a sort of vortex. “No matter. If it’s VALKYRIE or the police or something finally come for us, then all we need to do is let them tear themselves to pieces against my own defenses! We’ll get away…” “Well said!” The therapist agreed. “We’ll just walk briskly out! You can handle that on that leg of yours, right?” “Of course…” Fox smirked, hearing the door beginning to be banged up against and walking closer, his personal sandstorm still meters around, waiting just to its side before concluding. “Alright… Let our guests in.” But an utterly blind charge into Fox’s attack, the sort of violent and overwhelming rushdown strategies that VALKYRIE had been notorious for before, which Fox himself was basically immune to with even seconds of preparation time, didn’t come. Rather, then, a more careful approach was taken, the enemy Stand Users kiting his range, blocking fire from the therapist’s pistol, and even actively taking time to deprive him of the sand that had been at his feet, cut him off form gathering any more from his little rock garden. Soon enough, he’d needed to make a sort of cone to fend the lot of them off as he backed towards a fire escape, finding his apartment pushed into and himself more and more outnumbered. As soon as he leapt out of the now-opened window into the escape, bracing himself for some pain on his leg and needing to rapidly climb down anyway, he instead found himself flying far, far back, sonic energies blasting him into a wall adorned with an intricately-woven quilt of a funny white dog, knocking it loose and seeing it land overtop him. Toby Fox’s mind was racing. These… These couldn’t be VALKYRIE. They were too careful… They fought like anybody cared if they lived or died, and the only property that had been damaged at all was in his own apartment. Some special forces team doing a false flag thing? But why? That was a sonic blast just now, a sound-based strike to his very core, by a helmeted member of the unit who stepped in and approached him fearlessly, something holstered at their side. Could… Could it have been that..? “Fox, you’re under arrest.” At the undoubtedly masculine voice which had come from his latest attacker, despite his situation, several guns trained on him as two strong-looking guys pulled him away from any particulate, cuffed him and the physical therapist, was relief that the worst thing he was imagining hadn’t come to pass. As Rushen Smith pulled his helmet off and took a breath, he spoke into a communicator attached to his ear, putting his finger up to it as he adjusted the sunglasses he had of course decided to wear under full body armor. “Team A reporting in. We got ‘em… Looks like we caught him in the middle of PT. No casualties, but the physical therapist pulled a gun on us too… We’re booking her too.” “So it’s all gone smoothly, then? Excellent! Our other teams are reporting similarly… Only one who’s slipped away is Golden Boy.” “Keep lookin’. Man going around in as much gold as that guy can’t stay hidden for long. Over and out.” “To be honest…” Fox couldn’t help but chuckle in disbelief, breathily, wobbling on his uneasy legs. It made him happy, again, to overhear that Tigran (nobody else could be ‘Golden Boy,’ right?) “If I was going to go down, I was expecting something a little more… Climactic.” “Yeah, well, this is it. You’re going downtown.” The Woods at Aurelio - An Abandoned Police Station, Slightly Earlier “Bull shit!” Uh oh. Ugo was in a bad mood, and Rob was out shopping. Anthony ‘Ani’ Oakey, sitting in the former small-town jail cell which had been renovated into a damn serviceable emergency living space, sat up, realizing that nobody else was around at all. He’d have to bear the brunt of this guy ranting, huh? The two of them had outright faked their deaths to get closer to the famously unhinged head of VALKYRIE… They had to, in order to make this mission work without Byron painting a target on the collective backs of all of their friends, or worse, them thinking they’d lived on to betray them. They had seen the man for what he was, not just some aggressive meathead who only knew how to rush forward, but something far more dangerous. He was a schemer who had quietly been polishing off plans to, if need be, potentially ruin any number of people in the city. From known enemies of his like Conqueror Worm, Ernie Ford, Byron Oxbow, to even ostensible allies like Arazu Allday, Chairman Ray, Cairo Satori, and several different Board Members. If it wasn’t for the fact that he just lacked the tactical flexibility to pull anything off, he might have accomplished more, but even then, as equipped as he was, hungry as he was to bring about his idea of order, there was no way to call him anything but dangerous. Not days later, they’d learned their new boss was fired, and lost with that any semblance of accountability he’d had. The neighborhood watch still liked him second only to their founder, and recognizing the danger to themselves that would come with refusal, and many of his long time supporters within VALKYRIE quit and joined up with him upon his firing. The sole remaining police officer in the small town took a hefty payment for an early retirement making sure he was the law of the land. Ugo took up this new base of operations, smaller though it was than his old office, and kept working like nothing was changed. “No higher-ups, no stockholders, no need for\ paperwork piling up in my way, yeah? So basically, I’ve got more space, really.” He’d said with a cold smirk. “Don’t worry about things on my end… I’ve had money stored away in case something like this happened. I’ll land on my feet. You two are the ones who need to remember your place… And our contract stands. You are loyal to me. Not Allday and not anyone she tries to say is in charge of VALKYRIE. Honoring their orders over mine is treason, and you can ask my old second in command how that goes. “This is a good thing in disguise. Being lead of Allday’s VALKYRIE was a good teacher, but Allday is weak, as is that excuse for a replacement she found for me. This means that we have the opportunity to be the prime law for hire in this decrepit city. You should be grateful I took you on at this turning point. The only regret I have is that all my work in tracking down and taking down the scum of the entertainment District. It had been my white whale for years, and now that glory is going to some undeserving fed” For the first time Ani caught something deeper in Ugo something seething and angry that festerd under his controlled facade. “I…” Ani had to choose his words carefully, feeling drained of much of his enthusiasm by the hard situation he’d placed himself into. Ugo had genuinely seemed pleased with the fact that VALKYRIE was going to lead a raid on the leadership of the Entertainment District’s illegal fighting rings, excited that he’d be in charge of coordinating a massive raid that would make the company look good. “I can see why that would be frustrating… Yeah. Especially when it was Mr. Jones’ intel that helped put it all together, and…” “I’ll take care of that bald fuck later. ‘Deal with the devil’ my ass… For now, we need to ‘prioritize.’ When your enemy has the ball, do you run in front of them and wait? No. You ‘Tackle’ them. You don’t let them gain a single yard!” Ani rubbed his eyes, sitting upright as he realized. “What… What did you do, Ugo? Uh, sir.” He froze up a bit at the glaring eye upon him, only to say. “Sorry if I sound fresh, just… You woke me up.” “Lucky I’m in a good mood, kid… I’ll tell you what I did. I ‘tackled,’ and opened up a ‘hole’ in their ‘defense’ because of it. That golden narcissist second-in-command, Tigran Sins… I got his number, tipped him off right before they were gonna get his penthouse.” He waggled a finger. “But I made sure it was too late for him to tell his boss shit.” “What?” Ani tilted his head. “I don’t follow… Tell me how that’s brilliant.” “The guy’ll fly off the handle for anything that puts his Toby in danger. Probably, because this was my plan they wrote over, he’s gonna get caught, and when he does, they’re gonna drive him over a particular ‘bridge’ to head downtown for processing.” As Ugo was speaking, he had begun to demonstrate with pieces of scrap paper that had been lying around, indicating with arrows, dots, and the like. He wasn’t the best artist. “So what’s gonna happen is, no doubt, he’s gonna put the best hitman of all the scum in this city up there, and he’s gonna just open fire and take a ton of those weaklings down. Fox and his associates will be freed, and then, when it’s all good and disastrous…” He scribbled and scribbled aggressively, then, on either side of the poorly doodled ‘bridge,’ with a small grin. “Me and Rob and everyone else will pour in from the East and West and save the day after those screw-ups! We’ll mop them up and make their ‘new start’ a reminder that they never should have cut me away.” “You and Rob?” Ani was trying to process all of that, that much hanging over him. “Do you… Not want me involved?” “You’ll be in, er, what’s the word…” Ugo scratched his head a moment with the pencil, it clearly on the tip of his tongue. The tip snapped against his jawline, and he concluded. “Support! Coordination! That’s the word… I’m not gonna put you right in the line of fire. Can you imagine how that’ll taint the PR? They’ll say I have child soldiers or something… And c’mon. People need to know we have standards.” Rob showed up soon after, and Ugo followed him into the base’s small kitchen to talk the plan over with him in between bouts of grilling, leaving Ani, frankly, mortified. This… This guy is fucking crazy! Is he that petty that he’s going to let so many people die just to say I-told-you-so? And not just new VALKYRIE people, or that Rushen Smith guy… No doubt at all, innocent bystanders are gonna get hurt too. Ani dragged his hands along his forehead, rolling around in his bed and quivering with thoughts rushing through his head. This is too much… This is way too much! I can’t just… I can’t just let this happen, right? And Rob, Rob needs to know that this is unacceptable too. Maybe we can slip away ahead of time, and… He shook his head. No. I can afford to be anywhere and out of his sight, and make a case for it being part of my role, but Rob… If he breaks formation, Ugo is going to know, and then we’ll both be… I need to leave him out of this. I have to stop this insanity myself, somehow! He looked towards the sound of the adults talking, then, filled with an uncertainty. He’d said that one of the deadliest assassins in this city would probably be involved in this… He knew he had to act, but he couldn’t do this alone. He would need to find help some other way. Barrier Bridge ,early afternoon Early in the morning, Seido had gotten the call about a job holding down this bridge, that a certain transport vessel was going to be crossing sometime in the afternoon. Said transport vessel carried his rescue target, Fox. Despite all the misgivings he had for the Underground leader, he paid well, and was respectful enough of Seido’s autonomy (for the most part). Plus, due to the nature of this job, its pay is based on success, so he’s going to take this seriously. So as to not attract too much attention, he looked around for an appropriate vantage point with his phone camera, appearing to merely be taking a picture of the sights, and after finding a suitable location, he walks up to his spot and resumes feigning his tourist act. Finally set up, Seido took a moment to think to himself. With enough luck, this’ll be an in-and-out job... but the way things have been going lately, I somehow doubt that it’ll be that easy. It feels as if Fox’s expansion has led to more and more interlopers, and of course I’m left to clean up the mess. Though it does sometimes get boring to do the same quiet job ad nauseum, it can also be a little tiresome to have interruptions and obstacles. While nodding to himself on his preferences of job difficulty, almost on cue, he spotted a young kid, being approached by a different, stranger looking man, and after what looked to be a brief exposition by the kid, the pair both began looking around. It wasn’t hard for him to realize that this meant that the two would be the expected “unexpected company” he would be dealing with today. Barrier Bridge, moments earlier His bike skidding to a halt by the side of the road, Kamen Rider Volt took a look around him. Foot traffic on the bridge was as expected, people occasionally walking by and gazing over the rivers, and many cars driving by as people went on their daily commute. Business as usual for Los Fortuna, it seemed. However… he was called here for a reason. ‘Ani Oakey’, a kid whom he’d met in the past, had contacted him, telling him to come here for some important reason related to the shady underground of Los Fortuna’s entertainment district. Still, he couldn’t see the kid anywhere in the crowd around him… “Volt! Over here!” The hushed voice of the kid came from behind him, and Volt turned around to see him, just barely noticing him from the various passersby on the bridge. Underneath the suit, Max let out a small smile seeing the familiar face. “Ah, here you are! So, Ani, what did you call me here for? The ED’s underground… what information did you gather, and why exactly?” Volt knew the kid was somewhat of a troublemaker, but he couldn’t have caught onto such information had he not gone quite a bit beyond the realm of what a normal kid could do. “Um...” Ani said, thinking for a bit. “Well… I’m currently helpin’ out some, uh... people who caught onto this, an’ I thought you’d help out, so… well, I guess I should tell you what I need help with, yeah?” Volt listened to the kid as he explained the full extent to the situation with growing concern. Ani was probably a stand user, but Volt would have to prod further about what he was doing later, since it almost certainly wasn’t good for him. Still, if this bridge was to be used to transport the ED underground’s ringleader… Volt took a few looks around the bridge, thinking… It was likely that someone from their end would be stationed- “Volt! Look out!” With all of the strength that the 13 year old kid could muster, Ani tackled Volt, pushing him back just as the sound of a gunshot rang through the air, almost hitting the kid. The bridge went dead silent for a moment. Volt looked at Ani in shock, but he knew better than anyone that he had to act now. “Thanks for the save, Ani - now, come and get on the bike, now!” As the passersby erupted into screams, Volt shouted at Ani, the two of them rushing towards Volt’s ride. From the angle of the shot, the sniper was on top of the bridge - Volt would have to get there as quickly as possible, and drop Ani off along the way before he could. Moments later “No way!” Ani shouted emphatically, in response to Volt’s pleas, as the two of them rode on the back of Volt’s bike, trying to make it past the panicking crowds. “Look, you’re in serious danger here, and I need to protect you! Ani, even if you’re a stand user, this is serious!” Volt needed to get a spot where he could safely let Ani get off before heading for the sniper, but… “I am serious! Look, without my ants keepin’ watch and warnin’ me, that man’d have shot you! I can help, an’ I will help!” Volt looked at Ani for a bit, before sighing and relenting. Time was running out, and the longer they bickered, the more they were in danger. Besides, if Ani was to try and handle it himself after Max left him behind, the sniper would certainly attack him too, no..? “I can’t convince you otherwise, can I..?” Both of them knew the answer. “Fine. But I’m not letting you do anything too reckless.” Ani nodded in response. The rest of the trip was certainly not easy - the sniper they’d been up against had kept on attacking them, and as Ani said, his ants certainly did help the two of them, letting them keep watch of all direction and keep better track of the area around them. Furthermore, as they got closer and closer, the sniper began using his stand - “-Woah!” Volt shouted out, swerving his bike just in time before a flaming bullet flew past him and Ani, just barely managing to stay upright. Whatever stand the sniper had, he had access to a wide variety of bullets in his arsenal, enough so that neither Volt nor Ani were able to properly prepare for what he sent out. Still, they were getting closer - it wasn’t ideal, but riding a bike on the bridge’s arches was a surprisingly effective way of closing the distance, despite how reckless and dangerous it was! Still, they were getting closer, enough that they could just barely see the sniper in the distance. “Volt! He’s aimin’ at us!” Ani shouted out. That made sense, since he was a sniper and they were trying to get to him and beat him up, but they still probably needed to do something about it. “Gotcha! Hang on!” Volt shouted out, leaning forwards and pressing on the pedal even harder, the bike speeding up, and making for one hell of a bumpy ride. At the very least this’d make it harder to shoot them, and he could probably create some light to- BANG! Another gunshot rang through the air, the bullet flying towards Ani and Volt… and missing entirely, hitting the ground underneath them. They’d managed to evade quite a few bullets before, but the sniper certainly wasn’t an amateur, and had never missed this much… something was up. Soon, they’d realize what exactly it was - Volt’s bike rapidly slowed down, pulled back by some invisible force at a speed so sudden that both of them were tossed off from the bike. Shit! Looking back for a moment, Volt could see the bike being tossed back, skidding across the surface of the arch. More importantly, he could see Ani right above him, the light kid practically flying in an arc. He had to do something before he got hurt! Volt flipped around, arms outstretched, catching Ani just as the two hit the ground, and the sound of scraping metal filled the air. Still, he’d done his job and protected Ani - were it not for him, who knew what’d happen to the kid. Ugh… he should’ve been more insistent on not taking him! Whatever… he couldn’t change what had happened. Ani was here, and they’d have to fight this sniper. “Volt...” Ani got out of his grasp, getting up off the ground. Volt followed suit. “It’s lookin’ like we’ll have to go the rest of the way on foot, yeah?” Volt looked back, and the bike wasn’t there anymore - it had likely fallen off of the arch, then. “Yeah… seems like it.” The Kamen Rider and the kid looked at the sniper far off in the distance. He’d put a wrench in their plans with whatever that bullet of his was, but they could definitely still get to him. They just had to put in a little bit more effort, and then they’d get to him and stop the ED Underground’s plans for good. OPEN THE GAME! Location: On top of Barrier Bridge, a steel arch bridge in the Entertainment District. Here are two reference images for the general architecture. An overhead view and a side view The bridge itself is extremely long, but the area for the match will be more limited to a 160 by 80 meter area visualized here. This area is a top down view, the bridge and water is hundreds of meters below you in the purple and blue tiles respectively. Each tile is 5 by 5 meters. The teal rectangles are the arches, and the “X”s are the girders supporting the two sides of the arch. The girders are around 2 meters wide and 2 meters tall. The arches have metal stairs that run down the middle of the arches, represented here by the lines. There are guardrails on the sides of the staircases as well. The underside of the arch is also supported by steel pillars every 20 or so meters and matches up roughly with the side view image. The arrows denote the direction of the slope of the arch, with the area between the arrows being the highest and center point of the arch. The players are denoted by the yellow and grey circles and the boss is shown with the purple circle. Where the players are standing is just about halfway to the center of the arch while the boss is at the peak/center of the arch. Due to food crumbs being left out every so often, there are three nests of ants that have made their homes between the metal plates of the arch. For this match they are effectively 1000s of them in each colony. These colony locations are denoted by the purple 6 pointed stars. Goal: RETIRE your opponents! Additional Information: For the purposes of the match, the lower arches (visible on the side view) and the bridge below are not part of the map. Essentially if you are not on the girders, the arches, or otherwise fall off them and cannot or will not make it back up, that will count as a ring out.
"See that? That's Morioh's energy! It's all mine! My power!" This entire structure is made of metal, with both of your abilities you should be able to make good use out of it. Use the metal arch and support structures in varied and effective ways!
“Someone's going to have to take one of the last four slices” Four is the path your life has set out for you so embrace it as much as you can. Make as many references to the number “4” in your actions and movements in meaningful ways!
Link to the Official Player Spreadsheet Link to Match Schedule As always, if you would like to interact with the tournament community and be among the first to get updates for the tournament, please feel free to PM a member of our Judge staff for an invite to our Official Discord Server!
Play Less, Climb More. Warning: Dense read, only for Tryhards
Preface: I'm a 4'th year medical student with a passion for self-improvement and optimization. This includes my IRL skills as well as my gaming. How to improve faster, how to be more efficient with my time, how to reach new heights, feel and play better; these are the things that interest me and I try to find ways to do it through science. Some of you may have seen my previous posts onMeditationandFlow. You might have also noticed that I post on multiple competitive gaming subreddits. I do this because these are games I personally enjoy, have coached and/or have competed in and also because these tips and tricks are not title dependent. Everyone can benefit and even apply it for things IRL. I want to keep learning so please hit me with your own discoveries, tips and tricks. I'm genuinely pleasantly surprised with the responses and the chance to meet like minded individuals! This post is particularly dense and took a lot of time to research. I'll try to make it as concise as I can. Practice makes perfect!You can do anything just practice, practice, practice! We've all heard this but I'm here to add complexity to the statement in the hopes that it actually makes your climb much easier. Spending more time playing does not mean you are making a good use of it. Research shows a chess grandmaster has anywhere between 1,000 to 14,000 hours dedicated to his game. Let's put this in perspective: 1,000 hrs = 41 days; 14,000 hrs = 1 year 218 days. You could say some people are just born geniuses but research also shows that the top 1% actually practices LESS than their peers. Also, for those of slightly advanced age (like myself at 28) frustrated with 13 year old's styling on us, this paper might help you feel better.
The Science of Accelerated Learning
A little biology (for nerds like me)
Mastering a skill requires learning. Learning is an incredibly complex process. It incorporates sensory, motor, memory, and cognitive processes. Learning can be seen even at the cellular level.
Our brain is made up of neurons and when we “learn” something neurons undergo synaptic changes, create new pathways, and increase myelination. Neurons work like electric cables where signals travel along and when we learn something new connections are made and existing ones become stronger and more efficient.
A stimulus causes a synapse to be sensitized and with enough input strength it can undergo changes through synaptic plasticity. This process requires genes to be activated and release proteins that alter synapse function through Long Term Potentiation. This encoding and learning take up to 3 hours. After six hours memories become cemented and impervious to processes that affect synaptic consolidation.
A stimulus should preferably be repeated, emotional, relevant, extreme and novel for it be properly received and encoded
I will only address purposeful practice here. Mind and Body are crucial. This includes things like mindset, motivation, exercise, nutrition, etc. There is a reason why Esport teams invest in physical trainers, nutritionists and psychologists. I will leave this for other posts. TL;DR Have clear and measurable goals. Break down the game to it's most important components. Find your OPT. Structure your practice. Be a one trick pony. Observe a master. Use Imagery. Incorporate variability and contextual interference. Always make it slightly more difficult. Practice in a realistic setting. Add risk. Use mornings and evenings. Intensity followed by rest for maximal learning. Repeat at increasing intervals. Measure and monitor your progress. Get feedback.
Purposeful Practice
Structure
Goal
Have a long, mid, and short-term goal. Use SMART goals (Specific Measurable Attainable Relevant and Time Bound).
Having a goal and reaching milestones increases dopamine release which acts as a buffer against increasing levels of norepinephrine (stress). Norepinephrine is needed for attention but levels that are too high actually activate the “Give up” response.
Have a goal for the immediate practice session. What will you focus on today? Use information from "Break Down" (read below).
Use social accountability. Tell a friend your goals (the measurement, the time/date, etc) so he can keep you accountable. Social accountability is a powerful motivator. We are naturally inclined to follow through with what we say.
Break Down
What are the most important components you need to master (aim, mechanics, game sense, movement)? Use the Pareto Principle (20% of the components give 80% of the results). For example, these guys show how you can play a vast majority of songs from just learning 4 chords (just a fun example but it shows what I mean).
Then break that one down into even smaller parts. For example Aim could be broken down into flicks and tracking. Even those could be broken down into vertical, horizontal, diagonal, 180, with/without movement, etc.
I'll add in this guide by Aimer7. It's worth checking out.
OPT
Optimal Play Time - We can sustain complete focus for a limited time. Practicing beyond that time is basically a time waster that could be better utilized for other activities. Remember that rest is CRUCIAL for encoding your learning into memory.
Take out your phone, but it on stopwatch, set it aside out of view and hit start when you start gaming/practicing.
Play as Tryhard and focused as you can.
When you feel your performance dipping, your reaction time slowing, headache, fogginess, exhaustion, or increased distractibility then hit stop on the stopwatch and see how long that was.
It's usually anywhere between an hour and 30 minutes to 3 hours.
My personal OPT is 2 hours and 45 minutes.
Use that time to structure your sessions.
One Trick Pony
Play just one or two characters. There is a reason one-tricks climb much faster.
This allows for rapid progression from mechanics to game sense. If you played different characters all the time then each time you would have to focus on learning different mechanics. What you want is to reach a level where you can autopilot the mechanics which allows your brain space to think of other issues like game sense. Things like game sense translate to any game, situation, or character. So acquiring these "higher level" skills early will actually accelerate your learning on other characters because then you just need to learn mechanics.
Imagine there are 100 levels to mastery. As you progress you need to focus on one level at a time. When you jump up a level it's because the previous level has become so easy to you that you can autopilot it. So for example if you're at level 75, it means you can autopilot all the previous 74 levels without putting much thought to it which allows your brain space to think about level 75. Let's say the first 50 levels are all mechanical. If you switch between characters a lot it means you have to re-do those first 50 levels for each one before attempting to go above.
Yes, autopilot is a very misunderstood thing. I will make a separate post on this.
Observe and Imagine
Observe the goal you are working for. Look up the #1 player at whatever it is you're practicing. Look at his movements and how he does it.
Our brain has mirror neurons which allow us to better imitate and learn through observation.
Use YouTube, twitch, whatever.
DONT start just watching a ton of videos as many of us do. Look at your specific goal, and look at an example of just that thing. Just enough information so you can self-evaluate your own actions and practice and correct yourself. More videos and guides do not equal faster learning. Watch one, and implement.
Imagery. Simply imagining yourself doing the desired action works almost as well as actually practicing it. Our brain cannot distinguish between physically doing it and mentally. Brain scans show the same pathways to executing the action light up. The key is to imagine it VIVIDLY. Feel your muscles, your reaction, heart rate, etc. A benefit is that you can use this technique almost anywhere (not while driving duh).
This paper shows that doing all three, observation, practice, and imagery, was more effective than any one together. It also showed Practice + Imagery was better than Practice + Observation (in the case you had to choose).
Practice Variability and Contextual Interference (Interleaving)
Contextual Interference. Imagine a baseball player. In one practice he gets pitched 10 fastballs, then 10 breaking balls, then 10 change ups. This is blocking. This is how most of us are taught to study as well. In another practice he gets pitched 30 times as well but the 3 types of pitches are thrown at random. Studies show that even though immediate performance decreases (you will feel like you suck), long term performance and learning increases.
"Task switching enhances learning due to constant reconstruction of the motor plan or elaborate processing of the motor plan. The forgetting-reconstruction hypothesis claims that high contextual interference causes the performer to constantly forget task-specific information between practice trials, therein necessitating the (re)construction of an action plan for every trial (Lee and Magill, 1983, 1985). Consequently, the performer is thought to become more adept in developing action plans, which subsequently facilitates greater skill retention (e.g., Kim et al., 2015). The elaboration hypothesis proposed a similar account; however, rather than ‘forgetting’ information between trials during higher contextual interference practice, proponents argue that the performer engages in more elaborate processing to represent the motor skill in long-term memory (e.g., Shea and Morgan, 1979; Shea and Zimny, 1983, 1988)".
"According to the Challenge-Point framework (Guadagnoli and Lee, 2004), learning is heightened when contextual interference is matched to the performer’s skill level for a given task. A practical example of this is the Win-Shift-Lose-Stay methodology (Simon et al., 2008). This concept suggests that contextual interference should only increase when the performer experiences success".
Practice Variability. Not only can you randomize the learning objectives but you can also increase the variability. For example if you are practicing your aim with strafing you could change the speed of character movement very slightly. It has to be small enough that it's barely noticeable. This forces your nervous system to make micro adjustments on a motor level which increases adaptability and sensory/motor connections.
"Practice variability consists of practicing variations of an action. While contextual interference addresses the natural interference that exists between two or more tasks that are practiced within the same context. Three aspects of practice can be varied – the physical contexts, movements that comprise the action (skill variations), and the situation in which the skill occurs. Using the long jump as an example, you can vary the runway surface (physical context), the angle of takeoff (skill variations), and whether the jump will be the last or the first of a series of jumps (situation)".
Note: I've thought about the variability of changing sensitivity very slightly in different scenarios. I know this goes against the standard of practice of using one setting to get muscle memory. As the research leads me to believe, even elite level coaches and players are not aware of the benefits. It seems to be a balance. For example take 3 slightly different settings into practice. One includes your primary sensitivity, one slightly slower and one slightly faster. Practicing all will increase skill acquisition in the long run. In your games you will primarily use your regular setting. All in all the actual time dedicated to the different settings is very minimal and will not disrupt muscle memory, the opposite. This is not unlike how you feel like an aim god when you warm up on a higher sense then come down to a lower one. Your muscles are more attuned to finer corrections. I would love to see specific examples you guys come up with.
This also promotes going into Flow State for even greater learning and performance.
Setting
Practice how it will actually be like. The setting, the difficulty of actually pulling it off in high pressure. I coached a top player who choked in live tournaments due to the noise from the audience. We would put audience noise from YouTube videos to play in the background of his practice sessions and slowly increase the volume as he got more used to it.
Specificity of learning hypothesis. The specificity of learning hypothesis suggests that learning is most effective when practice sessions include environment and conditions which closely resemble those required during performance of the task — replicating the target skill level and context for performance.
Risk
Even though top performers work less than their slightly lower elite counterparts, one thing that they did do more of was attending events, competitions, or challenges.
Signing up for high pressure scenarios will motivate you and keep you on track progressing.
Sign up for tournaments, 1v1 competitions, or even just set a date to challenge a friend.
Use loss aversion. We humans hate to lose more than we love to win. Put some risk to it. Bet a small amount of money, or do something embarrassing if you lose. Small enough to motivate you to win/accomplish but also not so big that it stresses you out.
Mornings are generally the best time to learn anything.
Brain waves are more stable and relaxed.
You have decreased cognitive load.
Teenagers tend to wake up later in the day around 8-10am. This is normal and physiologic.
Do not fall into the trap of thinking "I'm a night owl". Yes, chronotypes exist but a lot of us tell ourselves this simply because we are used to it due to societal schedules and our own inability to stop gaming until 3am. I thought I was this too but now I wake up at 4am and it's the best thing ever no lie. You don't have to be as extreme but maybe just try out a little earlier.
The best thing to do is practice in the morning for the time your OPT allows then rest/do something else for at least 3 hours (while your brain encodes the information) then have another practice session.
Example
9am - 12 Practice
12 - 3pm Workout, Lunch, Chillax
3 - 6pm Practice #2
6 - 9pm Dinner, Relax
Intense practice, short rest
Practice your objective really hard and focused for 10-30 minutes. Then take a break for 10 minutes. The break CANNOT be looking up YouTube, playing other modes, etc. It has to be a real break to let the brain reset. The best breaks are to just walk around, listen to music (do not scroll on your phone), do some exercise, or just lie down/meditate.
CREB-Based Spaced Learning (cAMP response element binding protein) is learning structure that maximizes information encoding. Studies show that intense learning repeated 3 times with an interval (non-stimulus or break) of 10 minutes showed increased LTP and LTM.
Spaced retrieval improves and solidifies information. There is a difference between spaced encoding (CREB) and spaced retrieval. Encoding and retrieval happen in different parts of the brain. Encoding is in the posterior temporal lobe and retrieval in the anterior temporal lobe.
Remember this is scheduled during your practice and OPT. You are hyper focused and the break should be relaxing. Do not consume YouTube, scroll through social media, etc. Those activities are still pouring information into your brain. Again, simply sit down, do some short exercises, meditate or do breath work. This works, I do it regularly.
Spaced Repetition.
Once you have practiced something sufficiently you can practice it with increasing time intervals. For example, you have mastered the fundamentals of aiming and are now focusing on practicing movement. Don’t stop practicing aiming altogether. Simply practice it with increasing time intervals. Practice it today. Then 24 hours later. Then 72 hours later. Then 1 week later. Then 2 weeks later. Etc. This counteracts the human forgetting curve.
This is even more important than actually having a goal. You need to see yourself making mistakes, and getting better. Not only does this accelerate behavior and action correction but it also keeps you highly motivated.
Tip: Keep a scratchpad next to you. While playing notice when you have questions, or dilemmas about the next action. Write it down as soon as you can with the time.
After the game go back to the replay and look at your questions and search for answers.
Immediate feedback > Delayed feedback > No feedback
Measure
Remember that your goal is SMART and the M stands for measurable. Video games are great for feedback because they usually have stat trackers. Use these and periodically write down or annotate the date and the stat to see if you're progressing.
Ask
Coaches are great for instant feedback but most of us can't afford one. Simply, come to this subreddit and ask for input. Simple.
I believe this to be a pretty good summary of most Purposeful Practice techniques. As stated I will make a post on Mind and Body to completely close out the Accelerated Learning topic. Please let me know what you thought and honestly congratulations if you actually read the whole thing. It shows you're an actual Tryhard and I'm sure this will help you become OP.
Fine. I won't wear those boots anymore. You win. Another tale of me and dress codes.
This is a long one....again. I'm just long winded. Don't like it, there's a TL;DR. :) (side note, I would read my recess story first if you want to do things chronologically) TL;DR: School says my boots are within code but they don't like them and I can't wear them. So I stop trying to look nice anymore at all. Background (you can skip this part if you like a shorter read): If you read my recess MC story, then you already know I'm not a fan of dress codes for the sake of dress codes. So when I left for boarding school, I was utterly thrilled to go to a school that didn't have any uniform at all! OK-So it's not really that I have a problem with dress codes. I have a problem with conforming. So if you say socks have to be black or blue, 99.999999% of people will assume that you mean navy blue. I'm the person who would show up with sky blue. Just to silently stand out for a day. Just to give a smirk to the 5 other people who'll think "well, they did just say blue!" Just to highlight to the bureaucrat who wrote the rules that they're not as airtight as they thought they were. In short, I am (as my hubby would say) a brat. It's just fun (to me) to show people that "eitheor" doesn't always have to be your only choices. We'll just say I was an "adventurous dresser". I liked unusual combinations and had I been encouraged instead of discouraged (and taught how to sew) I very probably would have ended up as a low level fashion designer. Clothes were like paint to me after an entire childhood in the same plaid. I wanted to mix colors and textures and brushes. Boarding school is not really a colorful, choose your own adventure kind of place. Well, though I was a precocious child, I was never a rule breaker (save for very calculated rule breaking in my previous story). My mother always said "VooDooDaughter's obedient and well behaved. She will bend a rule into a pretzel. But she'll never intentionally break one." She was the kind of parent who had to carefully word rules and restrictions when leaving me to my own devices.... but also be careful not to put ideas into my head, at the same time. Basically if you give me the impression that you believe something is ironclad, I'll pick it apart just because I enjoy the mental exercise of seeing if it really is ironclad. But if you're a jerk, I'm going to find the worst way to show you it's not iron clad. My mother firmly believed that "Critical Thinking is the key to success in life. If you can assess a problem and find a path to a solution then you don't need to know everything. You just need to know how to find answers." (Mind you, this was about a decade before google and smart phones so I don't blame parents today for different mentalities....but I do still think I would raise my kids this way if I were going to have any.) So I had been raised to believe that the people who get ahead in life are the people who don't just say "Apple" when asked what that red round thing on the desk is. You pick it up. You turn it over. You note the feel and the weight. You mark the smell and the reflections in the wax. And you file that away for later. Never know when someone's going to ask you what the bottom of an apple looks like when there are no apples to look at, right? Anyhow, when you spend your life mentally picking up every problem, question, and object so you can flip it over, turn it inside out, change the colors, etc. Mundane things like school handbooks actually become a bit fun. The Story: I went to a boarding school with two types of dress code. We had "Classroom Dress" which was exactly what it sounds like. We were basically expected to look like young professionals. All the normal rules you would expect. Skirts below the fingertips for girls, shirts and ties for the boys. The handbook was pretty specific, as most are. The alternative was what we could wear in our free time "Town Dress" and it was the standard we were expected to dress to when seen in public off campus or just spending time in the students' lounge. This was more relaxed but still rules to keep the girls from wearing anything too sexy or the boys from looking too ragged in torn/cut off/worn out clothes. That sort of stuff. I had a pair of knee high suede moccasin boots with fringe at the top, just below the knee. Actually, I had two pairs. One in black. One in brown. They were the most comfortable, warm boots I ever owned (long before the days of uggs). My mother and I fought constantly over these boots and it was a great triumph to me that she'd allowed me to spirit them away to school with me. Then one day I was approached by a teacher who told me that the teachers had had a discussion and my boots "Weren't in the spirit of Classroom Dress." "But I've read the dress code. There's nothing in there against them." I protested. "I know. It's just been decided they don't meet the spirit of the dress code." She elaborated. "But they're the right color." "I know" "They're the right fabric. Suede is allowed." "I know" "There's no restriction on boot length. You allow riding boots for the equestrian club!" "I know...." "Then WHY?!" I don't really know if I was angry or sad or an even split of both. But I was emotional. "I wish I had better answers for you." She was a teacher I liked and I knew liked me. I realized it's why they'd sent her. I wasn't the sort to make a scene or cause a fuss...... I was the sort to get even. "Ok." I said, and walked off. That night, I studied the dress code front to back. I read every sentence forwards and backwards. I said them out loud. I held up every article of clothing mentioned and studied it as if I were an alien who had nothing but the handbook and that piece of clothing to figure out how it was used by humans. It was a pretty strict handbook, I had to give them that. But they had made 2 mistakes.
The handbook was oddly UNspecific about which items of clothing were to be worn where.
Nowhere did the handbook say we had to make an effort to actually look good. They discussed what articles of clothing needed to be what colors and how far they needed to extend in certain directions (skirts below the finger tips, socks above the ankles, sleeves past the elbows, etc). Shoes had to be reasonable colors like black or brown (like my boots were!) or other earth tones. But it never said they couldn't be elf shoes, for example. Granted, elf shoes wouldn't be "in the spirit of classroom dress". But I digress.
I went to bed furious and with vicious ideas circling in my mind. Debating whether or not I wanted to pull this particular trigger. Eventually I decided I'd wait until morning and if I still felt that way, I would begin phase 1. The next morning, I woke up still pissed and began a mental list of the worst boys in my grade as I walked to breakfast. When I got there, I found a few of them and pointed out that the handbook specified that ties were to be tied in a single or double windsor knot at all times unless it was a bowtie and then it was to be tied in the traditional manner (don't know what that's called). What it DIDN'T specify is what part of the body it was to be affixed to. Nowhere did it specify that ties had to be tied around the neck. Just how they needed to be tied. I told them they didn't have to believe me. Just read their handbooks that night and do what they will with the information. The next day, there were ties on wrists, around eyeglasses, foreheads, ankles, knees, thighs, tied then wrapped around hands as if to stop bleeding knuckles.... anywhere you could attach a windsor knot to the human body, there was a boy in my school with a tie there. I was feeling pretty darn proud of myself. Phase one was a total success. The teachers were annoyed but most found it amusing.... Until we got to math class. There was a kid in class without his tie on. The one who always wore a bowtie. The teacher walked up to his desk and looked down her nose at him. "I understand you boys are having some fun with your ties today. And I think we've been pretty good sports. But if you know the handbook this well, then you know you at least have to be wearing a tie." He raised his head, smirked, and said "Oh I'm wearing one. You just can't see it." The class erupted. Now maybe he just had it under his pants on his ankle. Or tied around his elbow under his blazer. I'll never know. But he went down as the kid who came to class with his tie around his penis. By the end of the day, I was a legend for finding the loophole and he was a legend for what he had put the loophole around. By morning announcements, the dress code had been updated (we were all handed a printed page so we couldn't claim we didn't know) to include specifications about ties around necks and the fun was over for the boys. Phase 2 was a little more in depth - read on if you're not already bored. I studied the handbook and I took mental notes. I had been eyeing the most ridiculous pair of boots I'd ever seen at the mall. They were silver with holographic rainbow interlocking circles on them. They sported a 2 inch platform with a chunky 4 inch heel and laced up just above the ankles. They looked like something Romy and Michelle would have worn in their final Prom scene or Fran Drescher in the Nanny. Ungodly. I knew I couldn't wear them to class but I wanted them for town days soooooooo bad. Like I said, after 9 years in uniform, I was having fun with fashion. I saved for months and "visited" them at the mall every chance I got. I had been slowly talking myself out of such a frivolous pair of boots (they were SO expensive!) but the loss of my favorite classroom boots had reinvigorated my lust for them. And right after my moccasins were revoked, I had managed to save up just enough to afford them. Lucky me! I practically skipped to the store to get my holographic rainbow platform boots that weekend. They were out of my size! I nearly cried. Until I noticed right next to them was the black patent leather version. Until now, they had seemed so tame by comparison. But the dress code had a special section about patent leather footwear. It was specifically permitted but only when wearing pants (there's an old, idiotic, belief that you can see the reflection of a girl's panties in patent leather shoes if she's wearing a skirt). So I could not wear the rainbow boots to class. But their sister boots in black patent leather with silver details were totally permitted (silver, also being specifically permitted on shoes as some might have grommets for laces bwahahahaha!). Still sporting the 2 inch platform and 4 inch heel, mind you. The school didn't have any limits on heel size, assuming high schoolers wouldn't want to be in heels all day, I guess? Something about losing the whimsy of the silver holographic rainbows also had the bonus effect of taking them from a "club kid" mood to a darker "hooker boots" realm. And to think, I would never have even considered the black pair if it weren't for my recent fascination with our dress code. The black boots also happened to be on discount whereas my silver ones would have been full price. So I walked away with enough money to buy a pair of pants to wear with my new boots. A plan began to formulate in my devious brain. I invited my friends to join me at one of the local thrift stores and we spent the afternoon hunting for the ugliest pants we could find that were still within the guidelines of the school dress code. And we did. They were bright orange polyester pants with little grey-green amorphous dots on them. Something akin to an incredibly tiny giraffe print. You almost couldn't make out the green, just that there was a pattern to the orange. Something about the two colors clashed enough that they almost vibrated in front of your eyes, making you half dizzy/half nauseated if you stared too long. And, as luck would have it, I scored a deal on an orange, shag sweater that was the exact same shade! I looked like a half finished sesame street character on top and a lost disco reject on bottom.... oh, did mention they were slightly belled straight legged orange polyester pants? I strolled into class on monday looking like a rejected extra from Saturday Night Fever. My new platform boots had heavy wooden heels that clunked loudly everywhere I walked. I now stood four inches taller making me stand out even more in the halls, and rivaling some of my teachers for presence in the classroom. I watched some of them glare at my new boots and began to figure out which ones had taken issue with my knee high moccasins. I could tell the teachers who were getting a laugh out of it, too. But I didn't' stop there. It became my life's mission to seek out the most horrendous clothing and outfits I could concoct. I didn't care how I looked anymore. I had been so careful when I packed to make sure my clothes had all been suitable. And by their own admission, my boots were within the code. They just hadn't liked them. I had done my utmost to dress within their rules and they had arbitrarily decided something wasn't good enough because they didn't like it. So now I wore something hideous every single day so they had to see me in something nobody liked. Every. Single. Day. After all, what could they do? Just tell me EVERY SINGLE DAY that I wasn't dressed appropriately but never in violation? At some point I would cry it was personal, maybe even racial. By their own admission it didn't violate the rules. And I was certain to never violate the rules. That just wasn't my style. Plus, at this point in a battle of wills, you can't afford to get sloppy and give the other side any advantage. (Mom always said I was stubborn) The nice thing about boarding school is the girls are happy to share clothes around with anyone who will share back. So instead of just one closet, I had like 30 to pick from just in my dorm. Sure most of my clothes matched each other by intent and planning. But they looked absurd with clothes picked by/for other people. Someone might have a loud shirt they only wear with a black skirt. But I'd pair it with a printed skirt from 3 rooms down in clashing colors just because I could. Still within code. I wore those hooker boots any time I didn't have on a skirt. I invested in more polyester than a school should legally be allowed to have on campus for fire safety reasons. I sought out every consignment, vintage, second hand shop in town (and there were a lot! it was a largely hippie town so the pickings were fantastic). I put together 3 piece suits (with ties) that made me look so butch they actually asked my mother if I was gay at her parent teacher conference (apparently dressing badly makes you a lesbian?). I braided my bangs into a single braid and would put heavy earrings at the end to weigh it down then swing it around like a pendulum over my desk or book during class by swirling my head (only if I was bored in a class of a teacher I suspected of costing me my boots). Anything and everything I could do to be visually assaulting to the senses, I did. At the above mentioned parent teacher meeting, they asked my mom if she could speak to me about my clothing and she asked, surprised, if I was breaking any rules. They explained about the boots. Mom told me she laughed and said there was nothing she could do. "If there's one thing my daughter hates, it's being punished for a rule she didn't know existed or a rule that never existed in the first place. If you want to make a rule today to stop her, she won't do it tomorrow....I bet you never saw those boots again. But you took away something she loved for seemingly no good reason. She sees that as a punishment even if you only saw it as a request. And now she's punishing you back. Simple as that. I suggest you just let it go and fix your handbook over the summer. Otherwise, you'll run out of paper, trying to print daily changes to keep up with the loopholes she'll find. My daughter loves finding loopholes. I should never have given her so many riddles as a child." Upon hearing this, they admitted that the only reason my new boots had been "ignored" thus far is that; this having been my reaction to the banning of the first pair, some were fearful what I might find to wear in retaliation if a second pair was banned. And, obedient student that I was, I never did wear my knee high suede moccasins again. Random Conclusion stuffs: They never did come after me for a single other dress code issue...except once when my skirt was too short (honestly not intentional, each teacher measured slightly differently). And I didn't return the next year for entirely unrelated reasons so I don't know what changes they may have made. I'll include a photo of the boots. I've kept them all these years later just for the smile I get when I find them in the bottom of a box while looking for something else. And here's the last shirt I'm sure I have from those days. It's literally the ugliest piece of clothing I've ever owned and I can't bring myself to throw it away because I think of this story every time I see it and laugh. And I know somewhere is one photo of me in my orange shag outfit. If I ever find it, I will share that, as well. I had a blast tearing that dress code to shreds. So remember to take your problems, turn them on their side, flip them inside out, look at life from a funny angle and you never know what cracks you might find. And it's another great story of my awesome mom totally having my back.... Though looking back as an adult, I'll bet she was a little pissed they banned her boots, too. I mean, after all, if they had been more specific in the handbook, she could have kept them at home the entire time instead of in my closet at school, gathering dust! Miss you, Mom! edited for grammar edit for comments: No, I'm not a lawyer in my adult life. It just wasn't my path. But I'm self employed, starting a business in an industry I'm extremely excited and passionate about and I enjoy nearly every single minute of work I have put into it. I'm blessed and thankful to love what I do. another edit: This took place in the mid 90s.
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