“Don’t move!” John commanded as he traced the outline of the triceratops’ lettuce leaf shaped head with his revolvers. They weren’t loaded, he had no clue how to reload them, but the dinosaur in the corner didn’t know that.
“I was warned humans would be violent, but to threaten someone in their own home… does your species have no shame?” The triceratops creature said, shaking its head like a disappointed parent.
“Maybe you should put the guns down boss?” Truffle said innocently.
Boss? John thought, furrowing his brow, since when did he call me that? Then again, I only found out he could talk earlier today. Maybe he’s always called me that in his own mind.
“If it really is a triceratops… person, then it’s probably a vegan.” Truffle explained diplomatically.
“God damned baby orc,” The triceratops growled, “call me an it one more time and I’ll…” its words trailed off as it seemed to struggle to search for an adequate threat.
John ignored the outburst, keeping his revolvers trained on it all the same, and turned back to Truffle.
“How did you know that triceratops were herbivores?” He asked incredulously.
“Miss Anne used to leave the Discovery channel on for me when she went out,” he replied proudly, “she thought I’d enjoy watching other animals on the T.V. She was right! It was very entertaining.”
With his question answered, John turned back to his new acquaintance whose arms were beginning to tremble. With a pained sigh, he returned his revolvers to his solar plexus.
“Sorry about that,” he began, slowly rubbing the back of his neck, “but don’t try anything funny, I can summon these guns in an instant and put a bullet between your eyes from twice the distance of this room.”
“How charismatic,” the dinosaur grumbled, “the first day is always the hardest.” It said, pulling up a stool and turning towards a large screen that stretched the length of the wall. It showed the diner’s menu in a typical takeaway sign style.
“It’s certainly not been normal,” John replied, pulling up his own stool a few spaces down. He was still weary of the odd creature and didn’t want to let his guard down around it. At least not completely.
“What’s your name human?” It asked.
“John, how about you?”
“You wouldn’t be able to pronounce my true name if I told it to you, too many syllables for a species with such an undeveloped linguistical system,” it replied matter-of-factly. “The Council has given me the name Buck for the purposes of this season of Battle Royale though, so I guess you can call me that.”
Huh, John thought, Buck and Doe, sounds like an 80’s detective show.
John was about to reply when the takeaway menu screen flickered and came to life. Weird music blared out; it sounded orchestral but kind of electronic at the same time.
Chairman Tanlan appeared on the screen, the green glow of his head casting an eerie light around the diner. This time when he spoke it came through the TV screen instead of blasting directly into John’s mind.
“I offer welcome to both contestants and viewers alike, for this season’s day one address.” He said, voice booming and creating an odd static which blared through the speakers. “I will start by explaining this season’s rules for those of you watching at home.”
The screen flickered once more and Tanlan’s visage was replaced by a rotating globe. An animation began to play showing small, purple torii gates popping up all across the planet.
“This season of Battle Royale takes place on a small planet in the Milkey Way named Earth.” Tanlan continued, presumably for the benefit of the viewers. John had to assume that these were the occupants of the armada of spaceships he had seen from his pod. “Earth is a warring planet inhabited by a race called humans.
“This is a type of sapient ape which has evolved to the stage of possessing rudimentary technology and cognitive development. Earth has been plagued by many wars in the last few centuries and I fully expect their violent tendencies to be most entertaining.
“Despite their uneducated beliefs, Earth has many natural resources left to be mined and used to benefit the wider galaxy. Thus, The Council has decided to make use of this in the most diplomatic, and entertaining, way possible. Through the use of the Inter-Planetary System games!”
The image of Earth cracked open into weird quadrants with lines and text boxes pointing to various parts of the planet’s crust.
John couldn’t read the language used in the boxes, but he had to assume it had something to do with the natural resources Tanlan had mentioned.
“The representatives of the Council sanctioned races will be allowed to bid on as many contestants as they like. If your contestant wins then your corporation will be given the mining rights to the planet.
“Of course, as in every season, the general public will be able to vote on quests and story lines and the like. Level one will only be open to preliminary beta testing and therefore voting will be limited.
“As for the contestants, you have ten days to find a torii gate and go through it. They must collect four cards to be eligible to step through the gate. There will be plenty of… opportunities to collect cards.
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
“It is my sincere hope that we have a great, entertaining season ahead of us. Viewers, sit back, relax, and enjoy the show. Contestants, get out there and CULL THE MASSES!”
Clutching his head as the migraine inducing noise from the final words reverberated across the diner, John decided that Tanlan’s catchphrase was going to get real old, real fast.
The screen flickered once more and Chairman Tanlan was replaced by what appeared to be a newsroom. The Earth was rotating in the background, in the foreground was a metal desk with two aliens sat at it.
Are they news anchors? John thought.
“Wasn’t that address just splendid?” An alien that resembled a giant praying mantis wearing a brown suit said. “I swear his speeches get better every season.”
“System good, new season entertaining,” a giant green pig nodded in agreement. It looked just like an orc from any fantasy game John had ever played.
It had a large green head, tusks and… makeup? The orc was caked in pink blush and scarlet lipstick. It even had eyeliner on and purple eyeshadow.
Now that’s something you don’t see every day, John thought to himself, she kinda reminds me of my great aunt Susan… on second thought, that might be a little offensive to the orc.
“Our opening show of the season is going to be a long one folks,” the praying mantis continued. “So sit back and enjoy the ride, the contestants this year are really something.”
The screen flashed again and turned to grey static. The word: redacted, appeared in front of it.
“God damn it!” Buck huffed, pounding his fist on the counter, “I get why they redact it for you, but surely I should get to see the highlights? Blasted Council, always finding ways to make me miserable.”
“Are you ok Mr Dinosaur?” Truffle asked, trotting up to the triceratops man.
“Call me Buck, and no I’m not ok. I’m stuck on this godforsaken rock, bored out of my skull and now I can’t even watch the highlights.” He took a deep breath and his body visibly deflated.
“Why are you here?” John asked tentatively.
“To operate this safe room, keep you from dying of starvation and to act as a preliminary guide to the game.” He replied in a practiced, corporate voice, “In other words, I am the property of The Council and my indenture contract states that I have to stay planet side. That’s all there is too it.”
“I’m Miss Anne’s property, but she’s a lot nicer than your Council,” Truffle said merrily.
Buck shot him a scowl and then looked to John inquisitively. He shrugged, showing open palms.
“So you’re a game guide then?” John asked.
“Kinda,” Buck replied, “I do a lot of things, and the game changes every season. I can give you some general information but you’ll have to work most things out for yourself.”
“How do I win?” John said, leaning closer to the triceratops, a darkness gleaming in his eyes.
“Win? Ha!” Buck replied jovially, “buddy you’ve got no chance. Just do the maths, you’ll have to wipe out the whole world. Nobody can do that.”
“It’s a battle royale isn’t it?” John asked, shuffling closer, “someone has to win, so it might as well be me.”
Truffle hopped from one hoof to the other uncomfortably, eyeing something on the other side of the counter.
“Boss?” He asked, looking up at John through his disproportionately large eyes.
John looked at him questioningly and Buck turned to follow his line of sight.
“Hungry are you?” Buck said, “hold on, I’ll get you something.”
Standing up with a groan as he pushed off the countertop, Buck limped behind the counter. John heard a few beeps, like the sound microwave buttons make, then the triceratops reappeared with a bowl of… something, and a plate with a burger on it.
“Don’t worry, I mushed it up for him first,” Buck said, placing the bowl down in front of Truffle, but addressing John.
“… Thank you?” He replied uncertainly.
“Baby orcs can’t digest whole food.” Buck explained, “I’d have thought you’d have known that if you’re travelling with him.”
“He’s not an orc, he’s a teacup pig,” John replied casually before taking a bite of his burger. His mouth was cracked and painful from a day of walking in the desert without a drink, he didn’t care though, his hunger pains were worse. “Anyway, are you going to tell me how to win this thing or what?”
“I can’t tell you what I don’t know,” Buck shrugged, “but if I had to guess, you need two things to win. You need to get a good deck of cards and you need a top tier conglomerate to bid on you.”
“What makes a deck good?” John asked between bites and pointed towards a sink behind the countertop. Buck noticed and filled a glass of water, placing it next to the burger.
“It’s hard to say really, there aren’t many bad cards but it’s how you combine them that decides if a deck is good or not,” Buck said ponderously. “Take your gun card for example: combine that with a card that makes ammo explosive and you’ll be pretty damn powerful. However, if you add a card to your deck that makes you hit harder that might become a weakness later down the line if your power set is spread too thinly. If I had to put it all into one word it’d be: specificity.”
John sat back, taking a long gulp of water, and thought about that. It made sense to him that the logical approach to deck building in this game would be to gather cards that enhance the abilities of one single card. It was kinda like min-maxing in a video game. The only issue would be that without a party he’d be unable to cover his own weaknesses that way.
For example, if he made his Frontier Justice card the main focus of the deck then he’d want to try and find cards that made his guns work better… assuming that cards like that even existed, and that he could find them before the gate closed. That’d likely leave him without healing abilities though. Maybe he could convince Truffle to be a utility salve for him?
He also wondered about Tanlan’s advice on killing people. He’d said it was highly advisable. Did that mean he’d unlock new abilities if he did it? Maybe that was how he could get loot since he couldn’t loot the Mecharoo earlier. John was a man of action and he’d do what he needed to in order to survive, but he took no pleasure in the idea of killing people.
Unless he happened to run into that damned cop. If John was lucky enough to be on the same continent as that guy, he’d have no problem with killing him.
The screen flickered once more, rousing John from his thoughts and the presenters were still in the middle of their highlights segment which appeared to have been explaining how the first round worked. No wonder they wouldn’t let us watch it.
Buck turned to watch, as did John and Truffle.
“Wasn’t that exciting, folks?” The praying mantis asked the camera.
“Humans violent,” the orc added, “this season fun already.”
“Indeed it is my linguistically challenged friend, indeed it is.” The mantis replied, “that’s just about all we’ve got time for, but before we go, let me impart some wisdom for the contestants out there watching: if you want to survive you’ve gotta be interesting!”
“And you got to kill things,” the orc added with a self-satisfied nod as if it had just shared some profound insight.
“Stay tuned for the after-show folks,” the praying mantis continued, “and don’t forget to…” He opened his arms and the audience, which John couldn’t see but assumed was there just off screen, all shouted in unison: “CULL THE MASSES.”
“What kind of catch phrase is that?” John complained as the sign went back to its regularly scheduled program of burgers, fries, and carbonated beverages.
That was when his vision started to go fuzzy and the world began to spin. He felt himself fall from his stool to the ground.
“Sorry kid,” he heard Buck say from somewhere in the distance, “your chances of winning this thing just plummeted.”