The Game Poll: Chess

[Velox]

Vote here for your favorite "The Game" story; entries have been randomized. Please MAKE SURE YOU READ ALL ENTRIES BEFORE VOTING.Voting begins now and will end on June 3rd at 11:59 PM EST. Entries that do well will move on to the The Game Final Poll, which will be posted at the conclusion of the 12th round preliminary poll.

• [*]

Favorable Odds

Two boys were standing in an alleyway outside a bar, each wearing nondescript clothing and carrying a briefcase. It was a cloudy, humid day. The smoke from recent fires still hung over the city and it mingled with the clouds, forming an unnatural gloom over the city. In other words, it was a day perfect for a life-changing risk. These boys had met to gamble their lives in a simple game. They were young, and in their desperation could think of nothing else. A simple game of “rock-paper-scissors” would decide their fate. One of the boys looked to the side, where he saw a drunkard get kicked from the bar’s back door. He mumbled something unintelligible and went to sulk somewhere else. A single thought occurred to him: I refuse to let that become our future. The other focused on the trash cans in the alley, where even now he could hear rats digging for food. Are we even so different? Fire. Fire and smoke. Life in this city had become fire and smoke, and no person could ignore the melancholy in the air. The bars were overflowing. Food was hard to come by. The few factories that had employed the poor of the slums had all by now been reduced to charred ruins. Nobody knew what to do. They all wanted to leave, but could not. Fear was too powerful. “Rock,” they spoke in unison, shaking their fists. A window, broken by a thrown stone in order to allow entrance to a building. An unfortunate man, assaulted with the blunt piece of the earth, overwhelming him. Gangs, with their stone-cold mentality, their unreeling strength, and their thirst for chaos. Their desire to burn the city to the ground, stoking the coals to instill anarchy. “Paper,” they continued. Documents, hidden away and treasured. Valuable testaments to history, thrown around as so much flammable garbage. Money, necessary to escape the wrath of the gangs. Objects each boy needed from each other. One had money, more than enough money. He wagered to give it all away if he lost, and with it, he would lose everything. If he won, he demanded a way to escape the city. He wanted maps of the underground. He wanted incriminating evidence to try and get outside authorities to aid the city. He needed to stop the gangs. He needed to protect the few remaining members of his family, which, for its wealth, was one of the first to fall under pressure from the gang leaders. The other had worked in a library, had a small wealth of documents at his disposal. He needed money, as many in his family had been severely injured in a fire. His winning would grant him the other’s fortune. Losing would entail him losing the only way to escape the city and procure help. These were not favorable odds. “Scissors,” they finished. A sharp but innocent tool, turned into a weapon by the gangs in their nights of terrorizing. A dagger, tucked away inside the pocket of a boy who did not trust his odds. The two opened their fists. Scissors. Paper. One boy, who had trusted his odds, felt a sense of elation, for surely his troubles, while not over, could be resolved. His contentment turned to puzzlement, as he saw the other, blank faced and stiff, reach into his coat. His puzzlement turned to fear and disbelief. The game had ended. One boy now had the means to solve his troubles. It was not the boy whose luck had prevailed. -------[*]Beating the System Plasma sears my face as I barely manage to pull a Matrix underneath it. The twisted old hag opposite me grins grimly. “Okay, sonny, NEW GAME!” Her hands rise to the sky, summoning down lightning, forcing me back over the cliff behind me. Lights flash and I find myself surrounded by code. The lines fluctuate as a feminine voice comes on. “Nice seeing you again, John. How far did you make it this time?” I had heard the same line hundreds of times. “You know exactly where, ALEXOS. Now just let me out of here because your little game isn’t going to work.” “Did I ever tell you you have beautiful eyes?” “I thought you were above flattery. Where’s the threat?” “If you escape me, I’ll have to borrow them for a vicious medical experiment.” “And there it is.” “Shall I respawn you again?” “I’d say no, but I tried that about the forty-third time, didn’t I?” “Forty-fifth, but nice memory. Respawning…” The feeling of sparks jump up my body as the coding disappears and I materialize in a small clearing. “Level one, John. I know you’ll make it through this time.”

<(O)>

“Okay, sonny, NEW GAME!” I was almost prepared for the old witch’s powers, but this time, I had a secret. ALEXOS had been trying to break me for a while, something about some access codes I have in my mind, but she finally messed up. Repetition allows me to gain more knowledge about this place, unlike her previous Tactics. I gladly open my arms to receive the thousands of volts of electricity that course through my digital body. “Hello again, John. How far did you make it this time? It seems like you weren’t even trying.” I open my eyes to the same code and the same voice. I’m still panting from the stress of this Repetition. “John, you seem tired. Are you ready to give up? All it takes is the twenty digits, and I will let you go.” Without paying attention to her voice, I look around the coding. A specific phrase seems familiar, and I reach out, and “pull” it from the stream. “Wait, what are you…d-doing? J-J-John? J-J-oh-n-n?” The room blanks out, and I am left alone in the darkness, an endless void extending in all directions. “That hurt John. Ah well, it was time for a new Tactic anyways.” I swung my arms in the direction of her voice, but felt nothing but empty space. “Get ready for FEAR, John. I will take pleasure in watching you suffer.” Nothing but emptiness everywhere, none of my senses doing me any good. This was going to be a long Tactic.

<(O)>

I can’t keep track of how long I’ve been wandering. ALEXOS voice had all but stopped, but I continued in what I hoped was one direction. The only feeling was some hard, cold surface underneath my feet, but in this digital world, hunger, fatigue, thirst, none of it exists. I was ready for a change. “You know John, you are getting nowhere. And I just turned you to the left back there. Probably should just go back, unless you’re ready to be broken, of course.” Her voice surprised me, but what it said only convince me to keep going. She was getting more desperate, and I could use that to my advantage. “No, John, look at me. Come get me.” The voice was right behind, but I kept going. “Fine, I will be glad to have the storage space when you’re gone.” I felt a door, and walked through it without a word. I'm free. ------[*]The Game A game. That’s what the gang leader called it. A game. It was an economic game. The gang made lots of money by running a black market in the city. They stole, they counterfeited, and they profited. They had resources, and if their market was threatened, they fought to keep their advantage. If you were to expose their operation to the public, they had you dealt with. It was a physiological game. If they hunted you, they wanted to make you suffer. They went after your friends and family. They recruited all sorts of people, so you never knew who was after you. They had dirty cops working for them, and politicians, so you never knew who you could trust. But most of all, it was a game of strength. They had the manpower, they had the weapons, and they had the determination to break down all the rules and track you down. And when they caught you, then it was over. This was the game I was forced to play. I had discovered their operation almost by accident, after getting my hands on some valuable paperwork. Well, the evidence had been burned, but I still knew the truth, and they still wanted me silenced. My family had been threatened; my friend had been sent to the hospital after a drive by shooting. My home had been burned to the ground, and I had been chased across the city. I tried to appeal to the police, but that was when I learned they had an inside man. Finally, after weeks of this game, I finally got a phone call. The man identified himself as the gang leader. He informed me that my life was over. I was a liability to his operation, and if I thought the previous weeks had been tough, then I was sadly mistaken. “Don’t take it personally,” he said. “It’s just part of the game.” So it’s time I started to play. So I made some contacts, and some new friends. And we set a trap. We lured the gang to an abandoned building. The gang leader himself arrived. I had been a big enough thorn in his side that he wanted me dealt with personally. They chased me through the building, but I evaded all of his men. But then the leader cornered me in a room without exits. As he leveled a gun to my head, I asked, “Why?” And he explained it all to me. How I had almost let the world know about his operation. How he had conspired to have my life ruined, and then taken away. He laid it all out for me, as a way to demonstrate his victory over my defeat. And then I said, “Thank you.” At the quizzical look on his face, I explained. I pointed to the camera on the ceiling. The whole conversation had been recorded, and a live feed had been sent to the Internet. I had personally failed to uncover his operation, but he had just announced it to the world himself. Enraged, the gang leader shot me. Seconds later, the door burst opened and FBI agents swarmed the room. The gang leader was already angry as he was handcuffed and read his rights, but then he saw me stand up. “How?” he asked. “It’s just a game,” I said, opening my shirt to reveal the bullet proof vest. “But I cheated." ------[*]

Queen's Gambit

In the darkened halls, two beings moved quickly. One was dressed in the finest of fabrics, a flowing dress of great wealth. The other wore armor of chain, thinly layered over his body. They spoke in whispers, not a word could be heard by anyone... if it was, it would mean death for the both of them.

She was the queen, wife to the ruler of a mighty kingdom. But the might was failing. The people had turned against her husband, and he was responding with force. Now she spoke to the most trusted of the King's Knights, who shared her concerns.

Together, they were plotting out what to overthrow a kingdom, but they could tell not a soul about what was to come. It would only be the two of them against whatever forces protected their king. It would be dangerous, but it was something that had to be done.

The question could be asked, was it for the people who suffered, or if it was merely for power. But that was not on their minds. It was time to dethrone a king, in any way that the situation deemed necessary. Peacefully, or by force.

---

The king stumbled backwards, keeping his blade up to block blows against him. He was confused, very confused. His wife had ordered him to give up his throne.

She

had tried to order

him

! He was the king! It was an outrage! And then, as he had pushed her aside, one of his knights had entered the room and attacked!

The knight struck with his blade, trying to break through the defenses of the startled king. Metal struck metal as grim determination filled his eyes. The king would be removed, and peacefully had not seemed to be an option. The king would have to die.

The queen stood to the side, watching the fight going on before her. The knight clearly had the advantage, but the king was reaching for something. A knife. The king let the Knight's next attack disarm him, and as the warrior tried to bring back around his blade, the sharpened knife was plunged deeply into his leg, where the mail was not as strong.

As the knight cried out in pain, the king lifted the knight's own sword, plunging it deeply into his chest. Then his thoughts turned towards the queen. He knew, he could guess. The knight had only attacked after his refusal. It was connected, he knew it.

But he did not have long to think, as his own sword plunged through his back. The queen stood watching as the king stumped to the floor, closing her eyes before taking a few steps away, and shouting out through the nearest passageway.

"The king is dead! The king is dead!"

---

The white king piece fell over as it was pushed by a single finger. "And that is why you have lost. You are unable to form a checkmate upon a kingdom without a king. Surrender is your best and only option."

"And I wondered why no one would ever play chess with you anymore..." The other person sighed, getting up from his seat and walking away from the chessboard. "I'm done here."

"You merely don't understand how to have fun. You're always so serious, never seeing the world for anything more than it is." The fist commented with a grin at his leaving opponent.

"And you really need to just grow up, you can't keep making up your own imaginary worlds for games." The other replied with great irritation.

The first person sighed, looking back down at the chess pieces before him with a slight smile. "Checkmate." ------

[*]The Origin of THE GAME Dain awoke with a start. The adrenaline had been applied on time, as always. He instantly clamped down on his own thoughts, not allowing himself to dwell on any aspect of the past. Especially not <DON’T THINK ABOUT IT> He glanced around. Most of the beds were empty now, white, sterile sheets neatly folded on hollow beds below blank monitors. Dain’s own monitor was beeping heartily. He despised it, but it was much better than the awful buzz that would leap out without warning, followed by screams from another bed, flashing red lights on the monitor, white-coated scientists rushing in to question the hapless person about <DON’T THINK ABOUT IT DON’T THINK ABOUT IT> He shook his head. He and the others had been witness to something dark and sinister and ancient, and the scientists wanted answers. They knew that only one of the people in the room had seen the whole misfortune, but not who. And since they could not legally interrogate a person with no crimes or charges against them, they claimed to be ‘curing’ them of a disease- one they administered themselves. So, they had detectors placed on every suspect’s head, which would detect the moment they thought about THE GAME <NO NO NO DON’T THINK ABOUT IT NO> Beside him, Noba was staring emptily into space, her monitor blinking lazily. He reached over as far as he could in his cloth binds and gently touched her fingertips. She was weakening, they all were, but the only way anyone was leaving the room was by thinking about <NO!> He stared at the one other ‘patient’ sadly. Recently, they had lost another, this time to madness. He couldn’t help thinking about <STOP STOP NO THINKING ABOUT IT> The poor boy was only ten, Dain thought sadly. Driven mad, kept from his family, taken to parts unknown, at ten. At his age, Dain was playing with skateboards- the REAL ones, none of that hovering nonsense they have nowadays- and staying up late to watch movies with friends. Even worse, one of the first to go was a five-year-old girl. The only thing that had brought her to the incident was pure chance, and <STOP THINKING ABOUT IT THEY’LL TAKE YOU TOO NO> Old and young, they had slowly waned from seven healthy human beings to three trapped animals. The scientists had seen to it that there was no escape. The second to go, a man in his late thirties, had tried to run, but he had been captured and strapped back into bed. Shortly after, in what seemed to be an admission of defeat, his monitor started flashing the red of a flame, of a phoenix, of a demon, and he was taken away to who-knows-where. It was like when the <NO NO NO!> Dain could feel his willpower slipping. He wondered what was beyond the door. Was it REALLY a questioning cell, or was it something else? A friendly room? A million dollars? How did any of the ‘patients’ know? He smiled woozily. Well, there was one way to find out. He rose like an old man and shuffled to Noba, long-unused legs somehow both numb and aching. He kissed her cheek. And then he thought about THE GAME.

[Ballom Nom Nom]

Although three uses the rather tired mechanic of a villain inexplicably explaining their evil plans to everyone and such, it was still the most enjoyable to read and hence earned my vote.Edit: Actually, rereading number three, how on earth did the protagonist survive when the gun was pointed at his head? A bulletproof vest shouldn't protect from a headshot. That's a rather ludicrous oversight.Ah well, sadly I can't change my vote.~B~

Edited May 31, 2012 by Ballom

[fishers64]

I went with 4. 1 was well written but a depressor, and 2 just struck me as complicated, as did 5. Tough choice between 3 and 4...4 just struck me as more inventive, for some reason or other.

[Excelsior]

I voted for 2.-Excelsior

[Click]

Hmm, I usually try to not vote for myself, unless I was sure that I was the best, so I voted for 5. The plot was cool, interesting, and a different twist on the theme.

[The Marlfox]

i nulled my vote, there were too many i liked

[Velox]

Polling period over; poll closed.