You’re a Gamer Now

According to Coach, Roscoerama was a new shooter game that was only recently placed into the Simulon Games roster. And to combat the slow and lackluster growth of the playerbase, the heads of Simular Inc. had advertised a tournament with an immense prize pool.

But that wasn’t all.

They had also promised a VIP tour of their Simular headquarters given by none other than the current CEO, Azan Auric. But Val didn’t care about the tour. There was no point in winning something that didn’t have any real value to her.

The game itself didn’t sound all that hard. Not like blackjack. Coach had told her it was easy, but she had gotten into the habit of never trusting any of his words that mentioned something along the lines of being easy. None of what Coach said was easy was actually easy. Sometimes, she wondered if Coach was actually illiterate and that he had somehow mixed up the definitions between the words, easy and hard. Whatever the case was, Roscoerama sounded easy. And that was in her own definition. Not Coach’s.

The game was a free-for-all. Basically an old-fashioned, glorified battle royale. At least, that’s what Coach had said. Val didn’t understand all that gamer jargon, but she knew that all she had to do was shoot and survive until she was the last person standing on the battlefield. The concept wasn’t all that difficult, but there was a problem. One, single problem…

“I don’t know how to shoot.”

Coach shook his head. He let out a visible sigh of disappointment.

“What? I was a thief. Not a bounty hunter.”

“Watch.” He affixed a makeshift, red and white painted cardboard target on a fence post next to his beach hut. Then he walked back and picked up a toy gun. While chewing on some beef jerky, he aimed the gun at the target and pulled the trigger. A stream of water sprayed the center, muddling the fresh paint on the surface. “See? Easy.” He took another bite out of his snack.

“You didn’t tell me jack shit, Coach.”

He sighed again. “Whatdaya got your Razen for, eh? Here.” He tossed the gun over to her. “Try it. Shoot the target.”

She preferred to learn things slow and steady, and from the ground up. Rushing never worked when she was a thief. And especially not when she was a boxer. But when she held up the gun, her right eye suddenly triggered and automatically highlighted the potential trajectory of the water stream. Even the position in which it would start to fall. It was almost as if the Razen already knew she was holding a gun in her hand. It felt so natural to her…

“You gunna shoot or you just gunna stare?”

She pulled the trigger. The water followed the projected trajectory with precision. The shot landed perfectly in the middle of the target. She didn’t even know Razens were capable of this feature.

“And would you look at that? Easy.” He finished his jerky and got to work on another one. This time, it was pork.

“Anything else I should know?” she asked.

“It’s a survival game. Just survive.”

“You’re real helpful.”

“I am, aren’t I?”

“I didn’t mean it.”

“I know you didn’t mean it. I’m not an idiot, lass.”

“Why don’t you participate too? You know more about shooting than me.”

“You think I can outrun anyone with these stubby legs?” He chuckled. “C’mon. We’re not done yet.”

Next up were the rules for blackjack. Since the events were back-to-back, Val didn’t have time to learn in-between the two tournaments.

…

Apparently, the blackjack tournament was different from the norm. Coach said that every participant was separately and simultaneously going to compete against the same dealer with the same set and order of cards. And after five rounds, the players were going to be ranked in order of most points to least. Then the prize money was going to be split proportionally to the rank that they had gotten.

He explained that all players started with only a hundred points. They could also end up in the negatives if they bet too many points. That was to ensure a small reduction in potential ties amongst the players. Of course, they still couldn’t bet more than double of what they currently had.

Coach then went on to describe the rules of blackjack. It sounded pretty simple at first. Just get as close to twenty-one as possible without going over or force the dealer to lose—

“That’s called a bust, lass.”

“What is?”

“Going over twenty-one.”

“Did I really need to know that, Coach? We’re time constrained!”

“Ah, right. I shouldn’t say too much.” He pulled up a picture of a blackjack table. “Just remember to hit and stand. Those two words are the most important.”

“Yeah, yeah. You already told me that.” She motioned for him to hurry. “Anything else? We’ve only got an hour.”

“Don’t rush me. I’ll get to everything. I promise.”

“I just don’t get why you left me alone at your little shack yesterday when you could’ve taken that time to teach me. I mean, not even a tour of the city? That’s not proper host etiquette.”

He smacked her over the head with a stick.

“Ow! What now?” She scurried behind a table. “Where did you even get that?”

“You know how hard it was to get you into the tourneys, lass? Especially blackjack? There’s limited space! I had to call one of my old friends to make it happen.” He pointed the stick at her. “And it wasn’t cheap, so you better darn place high or this’ll all be for nothing.”

“Okay, I get it. Just don’t hit me with that.”

“C’mon.” He gestured for her to come closer. The stick was still in his hand. “We’ve got more learning to do.”

She inched a little closer.

“I’ll hit you again if you don’t hurry it up.”

“Geez, chill.” She moved herself closer, still wary of the stick. “So violent.”

Coach went on to explain more terms and concepts. Something about doubling down, splitting, and insurance. But he told her to forget about the insurance. Said it wasn’t important to a beginner like her. She didn’t understand why he had even mentioned it in the first place…

And after an hour of intense memorization, Val didn’t feel any more confident than before.