As you raise up into the holoarena, taking your place at the end of a line of twenty-four other competitors, the first thing that greets you is the ginormous floating chair at the head of the arena. As you look, you watch the rubbery, tentacled face of the Overlord of Planet X crack into what you genuinely hope is a hideous grin. His large, bloated body leans back into the chair as dramatic, yet somehow jazzy and upbeat music begins to play over the holoarena.
"It's January 29th, 309ñ3." A faintly synthetic voice crackles over the arena's sound system. You recognize it as one of the three main hosts of the Game. From your current position, you can't quite see the announcer's box, but you could probably find it if you looked around.
[[Try and find it]]
[[Scout the other competitors instead]]
(set: $look to 2)As the hosts chatter on, you peer down the line of competitors. They're an oddball group of humans, human-derived Mods, and alien species that you don't even know the name of. Next to you, a wrinkled man with green-tinted skin coughs, a wheezing hack that you edge away from ever so slightly. Down the line, one of your other competitors isn't even bipedal, instead balancing on three, dark pink, insectlike legs.
At first, you were disturbed by the amount of not-quite-human beings there were just roaming the streets. While you can deal with alien species that are obviously inhuman relatively fine, the Mods, genetically enhanced humans with bizarre features, took you some getting used to. Supposedly, genome editing was all the rage several hundred years ago, with people editing themselves to do anything from breath underwater to have naturally purple hair. Now, most Mods are descended from these original people, and their traits have intermingled and changed to produce something genuinely unsettling. Just another fact of life here on Planet X.
[[The Overlord is speaking]]
(set: $look to 1)You turn and look over your shoulder. Sure enough, you spot the box hovering above and to the right of the holoarena. Your enhanced eyes quickly focus, and zoom in on the box.
"And *this* is the annual X-Games." The second host of the Games, chimes in, a slightly doofy grin breaking over his bespectacled face.
"From the KeLo holoarena, I'm Chris!" The last host says, and the other two introduce themselves in kind.
The bottom of their announcer box, gleaming in Planet X's dark purple sunset, is a glass dome, through which are rows upon rows of blinking lights, all pulsing in a complex pattern that you recognize, from your own tech, as brainwaves. Legend says that the Overlord took three of the greatest game hosts from previous generations, and digitally immortalized them.
[[The Overlord is speaking]]
You divert your attention back to the giant floating chair the Overlord is sitting in, as its voice booms in your mind.
"For generations, Planet X has stood as a beacon of balance and prosperity in an ailing galaxy." Its voice is loud, and echoes with the whisper of a thousand voices. "Today, we celebrate that with the 314th annual X-Games. Our competitors will be facing, not each other, but the choices of a thousand different lifetimes, taken from throughout the TimeSpace Continuum. If they are to succeed, they must face the challenges in store for them - not with strength, or endurance, although that will be part of it - but with wisdom, and compassion. And no small amount of luck." Once again, the tentacles of the Overlord cracks into what you really do hope is some sort of hideous grin, before it pronounces:
[[Let the Games Begin!]]
(if: $similar_talk is 0)[You approach the green man who was standing next to you earlier. "Ah! Greetings to you, friend." He says, and holds out a pudgy hand for you to shake. You do. Now that you're looking directly at him, you get a clear view of his features, which are very distinct. To put it politely. His eyes are sunken, nearly vanishing behind his weirdly puffy cheeks. His greasy, curly hair hides a wrinkled forehead, the same sort of wrinkles that crisscross his jawline and chin.
"I am called Similar Face." He says. You introduce yourself in kind.
"Similar to who?" You ask, and then immediately wince out of fear that you'll come across as rude. He laughs, though, a deep belly laugh that goes on for a couple seconds too long.
"Good question, friend! I will let you know when I find an answer."(set: $similar_talk to 1)](else:)[]
[[Back|competitor]]
(if: $tripod_talk is 0)[You make your way up to the dark-pink tripod, who's currently standing next to the snack bar, ordering a large plate of some grimy-looking goop. You cough, politely, and it jumps.
"BENBER!" It yelps, before realizing that it's just you. "Ahem." There's a sound a lot like someone tuning an oldest-school radio before it says, "Greetings, fellow competitor. I apologize for my behaviour, I was simply not expecting another being to attempt contact with me."
You apologize, and introduce yourself. She introduces herself as Susan. A strangely human name, but you don't call attention to it. "I am most pleased with the offerings at this fine snack station. I had not thought that this Planet X would serve such delicacies from my own planet."
"Oh, yeah, they have everything here." You respond.
The two of you spend a while talking about foodstuffs.](else:)[]
[[Back|competitor]]
(if: $human_talk is 0)[The human seems to be just like any other human you've met before, except he's wearing a long, dark grey trenchcoat (a choice that went out of fashion several ñs ago), and his behaviour seems to be erratic and ](else:)[]
[[Back|competitor]]
The audience around you goes wild as you brace yourself for what might be the most intense moment of your life. The holoarena, a large, dark purple disk inset with green lights flickers, and begins to glow with an aura that you've only seen on past broadcasts of the Game. Your body is engulfed in a bright green light, and before your eyes the world is reconstructed into something very, *very* different.
You hope you don't screw up.
(save-game: "Empty Room1")
(if: (saved-games:) contains "Empty Room1")[(go-to: "Empty Room")]The Games will be starting soon, and your handler, a small, older woman who goes by the name Cherry, is fussing over your appearance.
"They haven't had a cyborg on the arena floor for over twenty years. We've got to make sure you're presentable."
"Yes, okay, I got that," You say, turning over your arm to admire your recent 'upgrades' "But is the chrome really necessary?"
Cherry looks up at you. To anyone else, her expression would have been completely unreadable behind the pale white porcelain mask she's always wearing. But you've worked with her long enough to recognize the glimmer of a smile in her eyes.
"1960 is back in style again. Besides," She steps back, and looks you up and down, "You look good!"
"If you say so." You really wish there was a mirror in the waiting room, but as it stands it's barely a closet.
"Now then," And there's that telltale twinkle again, "We have about five minutes before you go out there and show them what you're made of. Until then, I know you have so many questions. I'll answer as many as I can."
[[Why are you helping me?|1]]
[[Will I see you again?|2]]
[[Any tips?|3]]
"Will I see you again?" You ask, and she laughs.
"Of course you will, silly." She tells you, swatting your shiny new shoulder plate playfully. "I'm not going anywhere. And I promise, despite how it might feel, the only punishment for losing the Game is a bruised ego."
"Oh. Well, um." You say, embarrassed now.
"Don't worry, Mercedes. Even if you do lose, I'll make sure you're all set to keep going."
"Thanks, Cherry." You smile, feeling relieved for the first time in way too long.
"Now come on," She tells you, "We've got to get you up there." Quietly, unceremoniously, you are ushered out of the tiny dressing room and into an equally tiny elevator, which she stops just outside of. "I'm technically not allowed to go into the arena." She says, a little sheepishly. "You'll be fine, I promise."
Without warning, she leans in to give you a hug.
"Good luck." Before you can respond, or hug her back, or do anything, she steps away and presses a button on the outside of the elevator.
[[You are lifted into the arena|Let the Games Begin]]
"... Any tips?" You ask after a pause. Cherry shakes her head.
"Follow your heart, trust your instincts. The Games were designed to test the things that most civilizations leave behind when they Ascend. Beyond that... It's up to you."
"...Okay." You say, more confused then ever.
"You'll be fine, stop worrying. Now come on," She tells you, "We've got to get you up there." Quietly, unceremoniously, you are ushered out of the tiny dressing room and into an equally tiny elevator, which she stops just outside of. "I'm technically not allowed to go into the arena." She says, a little sheepishly. "You'll be fine, I promise."
[[You are lifted into the arena|Let the Games Begin]]
"Why are you helping me?" You ask her. Sure, you know what she's said in the interviews, but you know you've lied many times in interviews before.
"Because there were so many others I couldn't." She says, matter-of-factly. You're still not entirely clear on what her role was before she became your handler, your memories before that time being cloudy and unrealized. But you know that there's a reason she wears that mask, and it's not pretty.
"Now come on," She tells you, "We've got to get you up there." Quietly, unceremoniously, you are ushered out of the tiny dressing room and into an equally tiny elevator, which she stops just outside of. "I'm technically not allowed to go into the arena." She says, a little sheepishly. "You'll be fine, I promise."
She presses a button on the outside of the elevator. "Good luck."
[[You are lifted into the Arena|Let the Games Begin]]
The waiting room is a quiet place after you've left it. The masked woman comes in for only a couple of minutes, to place a small photograph on the table.
Next to the photo, is a small pot, the type you'd plant a small fern in. It is empty.
On the top left hand side of the room, a tv is mounted, showing a live feed of the KeLo holoarena.
Except for the dim sounds of the crowd roaring outside,
All is quiet.
(if: (saved-games:) contains "danger")[You're in more danger than they know.]
(click: "small photograph")[(The photograph is of a young woman, who can't be older than twenty years. She is on Earth, smiling at the unseen photographer. The sun shines through her curly hair.)]
(click: "pot")[(Of course, the pot is not empty. You planted a seed in it just this morning. Something the masked woman called a Possibility. Don't you remember?)]
(click: "live feed")[(The Games haven't started yet. You're standing near the end of the line of competitors, (if: $look is 1)[staring behind you at the announcer's box like an idiot.](else:)[looking down the line of competitors, pretending you aren't.)]]
(save-game: "danger")