It was an overcast day, and around six-hundred people had congregated in front of the large, white building. Emblazoned above the front entrance in blue characters was a logo that read ‘Incandescent Laboratories’, preceded by a stylized lightbulb with a filament in the shape of a cog. The people who had gathered now either meandered about the lot or sat in one of the many portable bleachers that had been set up for this occasion. It was five minutes past the designated time of arrival, but nobody had come out to meet the assembly yet, and attempts to enter or knock on the door had yielded no results. Shutters prevented anyone from seeing inside the glass exterior, so it was impossible to tell if there was even anyone inside. The crowd was beginning to grow restless, a few even turning to leave, when a voice suddenly sounded from the building’s external loudspeakers.

“We apologize for the delay, ladies and gentlemen. We are currently experiencing technical difficulties. The introductory presentation will commence shortly, after which the selection process will begin. We ask that you please wait patiently until then. Feel free to talk amongst yourselves in the meantime.”

With a small buzz, the speakers shut off again. A murmur began to fill the lot as the applicants engaged in varied discussions.


*****


Adrian made for the building at his wheelchair’s maximum speed. He was already late, and wanted to make it to the building before he missed too much of the seminar. When he arrived, however, everyone was just hanging around aimlessly. The young man wondered if the presentation had already ended, but this idea was refuted by the voice coming over the loud speaker. Thankful that he hadn’t missed out on anything, Adrian looked around for some other applicants he could talk to while he waited. He immediately set his sights on a relatively unpopulated section of the lot with only five people standing around. There was a muscular, gruff-looking man, a woman with an eyepatch and a ponytail, a fellow sporting a colorful suit and some rings, a wiry guy with long hair hanging from his partially shaved head, and a man wearing shades and a leather jacket. Quite a unique bunch.

“Hello.” He greeted, wheeling himself up to the group. “Name’s Adrian. Uh, can any of you tell me more about what’s going on here? I only know what was in the ad.” He spoke lazily.

Giddiness. It was something that Gideon hadn’t genuinely felt since Soaktorch was last together. But on this grey, cloudy day, against all reason, the young man was jazzed. There was something in the air, some emotion that he had been missing for too long. The promise of adventure, the hope of a better tomorrow. For the first time in years, Gideon felt like he had taken a step in the right direction. It was a wonderful feeling.

The young man had arrived at Incandescent Laboratories at 8:30, intent on making the best impression possible. A few others had had the same idea, but as they all soon learned, their would-be employers were evidently not all that concerned with punctuality. As time ticked on and he grew restless, Gideon had decided to stretch his legs and wander around the lot. He had just found a less-crowded space when an unknown voice hailed him from his left.

The interlocutor was a scrawny youth in a wheelchair, a seemingly amicable fellow judging from his relaxed speech and kind face. He was far from being the only disabled person in the lot. In fact, Gideon was unsure that he had ever seen such a gathering of wheelchair-bound or otherwise impaired persons. It seemed that the promise of vicarious mobility was an attractive prospect to those fettered by unfortunate realities.

Gideon answered the boy with a smile and a shrug. “Sorry, bro. ‘fraid I don’t know any more about this thing than you.”

Ugh thought Amber as the speakers shut off. She hated few things more than tardiness. Oh well, nothing to be done but wait I guess.

Anxious was the best word to describe her mood at the moment. Anxious to get this presentation started. Anxious to have the selection begin. Anxious for the damned weather to clear up. Most of all, anxious to prove herself.

A new voice to her left spoke. As she turned towards the newcomer the tall man on the left answered in turn.

"Sorry dear, but I'm as in the dark about all this as you two.", she said in her gentle tone to the young man in the wheelchair. She was slightly temped to ask how he ended up in said chair, but, thinking of her own scars, knew from experience how uncomfortable those questions could be. "All I know is what was in the ad as well."

"I''m Amber Chapman, by the way."

Bruce had begun the day in his mansion awakening to his alarm clock. It was odd for Bruce to wake to anything other than a phone call before the sun had rose. It was odd he lazily looked at the clock it read six. After rubbing his eye he checked his phone just to be sure, luckily for him he had managed to sleep uninterrupted till six. He bathed and got dressed in a bright yellow and red suit. The colors were based off a comic book hero from his childhood.

After that he walked downstairs where he was greeted with a mug of fresh, hot Tea. He thanked Edwin before heading towards his office. He sat down and began some mild work before he would be needed at the Incandescent Laboratories building. Sipping his tea he sat in front of the fire and then it happened, his cell phone began to blare with various phone calls. He answered each one after a deep sigh.

Bruce was still on the phone as he and Edwin headed for the white limo that awaited them. It was stocked with beverages ranging from expensive wine to cheap soda. He finally managed to get a break between calls. Bruce reached into one of the coolers retrieving a soda.

"Edwin, One would think a multi-Billion dollar company could manager a day without me." Bruce said with a sigh.

"But Master Bruce, A body cannot function without it's brain. Now can it sir?" Edwin remarked.

"Ah but Edwin, a jellyfish can function without one. Granted they usually end up washed up and dry but it still function and lacks a brain."

"Well said Master Bruce, but you and I both know you do not wish for Super Massive Inc to become 'washed up and dry' Now do we?"

Bruce nodded as they continued to speak. Eventually the arrived at the facility. Edwin opened the door for Bruce as he stepped out. Bruce looked around through his shades eventually making his way to a less crowded section of the space provided. Bruce stood there quietly until his phone began to ring. He pulled out his phone seeing who it was before he answered it.

"Now Pepper I told you not to call me unless it was extremely important." Bruce scolded as he answered. He paused listening to her unnecessary ramblings of how another off was denied. As she rambled the announcement was made, Bruce sighed as he continued listening to his secretary.

"Look, Pepper. Don't make another offer yet. Mr. Gayne seems to remain unwilling to sell. Maybe we'll have more luck once his son takes over....Don't interrupt me, Pepper. Now as I was saying, it's a well known fact that Anthony Gayne does not wish to follow his father's footsteps. Once Anthony takes over we'll give him an offer he can't resist. Now I don't want to be disturbed again today." Bruce hung up and turned to the group behind him.

They were talking about something. Bruce's eyes began to wonder over the young man's wheel chair. The design was interesting, it appeared to have several extra buttons that peaked his curiosity.

"What does it do?" He randomly asked in the middle of the discussion. Staring at Adrian he waited a response.

High quality sulking corners are a hot commodity at public gatherings, and Jean's stock had just taken a royal plummet. The spot that he'd been diligently guarding with crossed arms and a sharp glare had slowly succumbed to the onslaught of oblivious newcomers, and his personal space was shrinking by the minute. He'd skipped work to get to the lab as early as possible in hope of finding a place to wait quietly, but not a half hour passed before the place was jam packed with every kind of lunatic under the sun. Half the people standing around looked like they came straight out of cartoons, and the other half looked like the type that would buy the action figures. The mechanic counted himself lucky that, at the very least, none of them had walked up to him to strike up a conversation.

"Feel free to talk amongst yourselves in the meantime."

Great. Even the overhead speakers were plotting against him.

Jean walked off to see if there were any places left where he could wait undisturbed, but was stopped in his tracks by the sight of a youth approaching. Well, it wasn't so much the youth that caught his eye, it was the wheelchair carrying him forward. Jean had never seen anything quite like it, but any way he looked, it was fantastically well made: The ride was level and smooth, the craft maneuvered responsively but gracefully, and the engine made barely any noise at all. Someone had either poured a lot of time or a lot of money into making the chair enjoyable to use, and based on the ease with which the crippled youth moved around, their expenditure had payed off.

Looking up, Jean noticed that he wasn't the only one marveling at the craft. A man in a brilliantly colored suit was quite obviously eyeing it, and the mechanic shuderred: the suited man was rich. Really rich. Jean could tell from some of the details on the suit and from seeing quite a few rich folks in his time: the whole lot of them where narcissistic airheads who were as full of themselves as their bank accounts were of money. As much as he would have loved to get a closer look at the wheelchair, Jean couldn't bear the thought of doing so while dealing with an ignorant Mr. Moneybags. He tore his gaze from the chair and started off again.

Once again however, he was stopped in his tracks. "What does it do?" the rich man had asked, evidently referring to the wheelchair. Jean's reluctance to be in the vicinity suddenly turned into exasperation, and he stomped right back to where he came from.

"Probably a whole lot more than you do all day, Mr. Fancy Pants." Jean grumbled.

Incandescent Laboratories: Head Designer’s Office

“We’re really scraping the bottom of the barrel here.” Spoke a shadowy figure as she peered between the blinds of her office window at the gathered crowd. “After we narrow the candidates down to forty-eight, they’ll barely be within the top tenth percentile. Also, we rented way too many bleachers.”

“You were expecting more, ma’am?” A man’s voice responded, the same that had been heard over the loudspeakers.

“I’d been hoping for at least a thousand, but I suppose I can’t be surprised by such a meager turnout when our advertising was so godawful.” She turned to face her cohort. “That’s the last time I leave you in charge of public relations.”

“That would probably be wise, seeing as how I am a secretary.”

“I mean, you actually made robots sound boring. How did you even manage that? I’m genuinely impressed.”

“Thank you, ma’am. I aim to please.” The man bowed slightly.

“Oooh, and you succeed so often. I couldn’t possibly stay cross with you. Unfortunately, the fine people waiting outside don’t share the sentiment. They’re growing restless.” The woman continued, striding from the window to her desk and pressing a button on her intercom. “Is the proxy ready yet?” She demanded.

After a few seconds of silence, the person on the other end replied. “Yes, ma’am. We just managed to get it functioning properly again. However, it’s still a bit unstable, so if you aren’t careful, it’s liable to-“

“Excellent!” The woman chirped, cutting off the intercom. She spun around dramatically before plopping herself down into her desk chair, then snapped her fingers. The secretary immediately moved to her side and placed a complex-looking helmet onto her head. As the device slowly lowered over her face, she smiled maniacally.

----------
Incandescent Laboratories: Outside

“Hmm? No, no. It’s alright.” Adrian said as Jean reprimanded the suited fellow. He began pointing to some of the controls on his chair’s armrest. “This button activates the rocket boosters. This other one launches guided missiles, and that thing right there,” He indicated the joystick that controlled the wheelchair’s movement. “It dispenses coffee.”

The shades-wearing man chuckled. He appeared to be older than Gideon, but younger than Jean. When he noticed a few pairs of eyes were fixed on him, he spoke. “Oh, my apologies. I’m Jake. Jake Spade. I’m here for the same reason as all of you, though I’m afraid I don’t have any insight to today’s planned events either. But…” He punctuated the word by gesturing with his hand. “I do have some juicy information about this laboratory. Apparently, the person in charge is a real eccentric character, and has been quite a thorn the local municipality’s side. Word has it she was even discharged from the military’s research and development division. Who knows what she’s up to here? You would all be wise to stay sharp.”

Before anyone had a chance to question the man, or ask why he was wearing sunglasses on a cloudy day, the crowd erupted into excited murmurs. Everyone’s attention was on the building. With a mechanical hum, the shutters slowly opened, and a single robed individual stepped out through the front door. The assembly quieted, most of them retreating to the bleachers. The hooded figure remained still for several moments, scanning the audience up and down. Suddenly, an arm emerged, gripping the cloak and flinging it aside to reveal an off-white, humanoid machine. It was sleek, its form made up of elegantly sloping shapes and complex, limber joints. The cloak had snagged on its arm and was now limply dangling from it. Wiggling its arm a bit, the robot knocked the vestment loose.

The gathering of people sat in stunned silence, unsure of how to react. What they were looking at had, until mere moments ago, been in the realm of science fiction. The proxy strode forward confidently, shrugging off the mishap with the robe, and extended its hand toward the crowd. A woman’s voice boomed from the loud speakers.

“If you were looking forward to a long speech or a lecture, I’m afraid you are going to be disappointed. However, I believe it is fair to say that this technology speaks for itself!” The proxy folded its arms. “I’m going to level with you. If you don’t think robots are basically the raddest thing ever, you don’t belong here. If you leave now, you will not be judged or made fun of, until you are out of earshot. If anyone wishes to bail, now is the time.” Everyone was silent. One person coughed. The robot spread its arms wide. “Nobody? Magnificent! Then what say we get the selection process underway?”

The crowd erupted into enthusiastic cheers, everyone eager to get started. A projector activated, displayed a screen right onto the front wall of the building. Forty-eight names appeared in rows, filling up the display. Among the names shown were Jean-François De Champlain, Bruce Stark, and Amber Chapman.

“If your name is currently displayed on the wall, please make your way into the building.” The voice concluded as the proxy welcomingly gestured toward the door.

----------
Incandescent Laboratories: Outside (Gideon, Adrian, Sven)

Once everyone had gone inside, the woman on the loudspeaker continued. “The rest of you will wait here until they have finished, and I’ll be here to let you know when it’s time for the next group to go!" The proxy waved its hand. "But don’t worry. We’ve arranged some entertainment to keep you all occupied until then!"

“Oh. It looks like we’ll be waiting.” Adrian said, placing a finger on his chin as he addressed the other applicants who had been left behind. “I wonder what she meant by entertainment. Well, what do you guys think about all of this?”

----------
Incandescent Laboratories: Interior (Jean, Bruce, Amber)

The forty-eight applicants who had been selected were quickly ushered into the building and greeted by a man in a long white coat and a uniformed woman. “Right this way, please.” He said with a pleased grin, then took off down the corridor without waiting to see if anyone was following. “I’ll be guiding you to the testing room, where the selection process will begin. If you have any questions in the meantime, ask away, but do take care not to fall behind!”

That was.... interesting thought Amber I wasn't expecting that.

When she heard robots, she was expecting drones, like those two tread kind the military has been working on. Nothing quite so... human. This raised so many questions that she had to find answers for. She smirked. No this changes nothing, her goal is to make sure she gets selected for the program and that is exactly what shes gonna do.

She nudges the brown haired man next to her
"Jean right? what do you think this selection process is going to consist of?"

The moderately tall figure in the fedora offset from the group hung up his cell phone and made his way over. "If I knew I'd tell you. My best guess is as good as anybody's, but judging from that humanoid robot over there I may get to throw some Shoryukens when I get there."

Short silence. "My apologies, I haven't properly introduced myself. Name's Sven, read the advert, came here. I invited my wife to tag along but she had been called in to work today and couldn't make it. Shame too, because that robot looks cool as hell. I wonder what else is in that building--" Sven's phone rang. "Woops. Phone call."

.... "Hey Bradley how's it going?" .... "Oh yeah? I've been at the Incandescent Laboratories for a while." .... "Waiting outside until I get selected." .... "Yeah there's a selection process. I'm assuming there aren't enough robots for everybody." .... "Oh alright, talk to you later." .... "Mhm bye."

Sven hung up the phone again. "Longtime friend. I consider him my brother. Long story; I might explain it later but I'm starting to talk to much again." He looked over at Gideon. "What 'bout you?"

Gideon lay sprawled along the bottom two rows of the bleachers, still trying to process what he had heard. Anthony Gayne? Offers of an irresistible nature? The brightly-coloured businessman had been talking about his best friend, and it was apparent that he did not have Tony’s best interests at heart. From the moment they had been within earshot of each other, Gideon had detected a certain aura about him, one of greed and utter selfishness. It was disgusting, frankly, akin to a black hole that exclusively attracted garbage. Least ways, that was Gideon’s impression. The drummer wondered if he might have been standing next to Bruce Stark, the young CEO of Super Massive Inc. Though he was only passingly familiar with the face due to its prominence on young adult magazines, the name had come up here and there on the rare occasions that Tony talked about his father’s world. It did not particularly surprise him that try as he might, Gideon could not remember a single instance in which it had been cast in a positive light. The Starks had always been the ravenous wolves of the business world, according to Soaktorche’s lead guitarist, and their heir was purportedly even more savage.

As he mulled this over, mildly disappointed that the appearance of the robot had interrupted them before he could set the gaudy fabric rack straight, Gideon realized that he was thankful to have found a spot where he could sit next to Adrian. If the way in which the kid had adeptly sassed Captain Flamboyant when answering the question about his wheelchair was to be any indication, boy had a sense of humour. Gideon liked that. He had a feeling that they would get along well. He was about to answer Adrian’s question with a joshing request for coffee from his magic machine when they were hailed by a fellow that had been standing closeby during the initial introductions, chatting it up on his phone. He had likely followed them subconsciously as they had turned to towards the bleachers. The darkly-clad figure rivaled Gideon in outward eccentricity, though the mismatched eyes and scar lent him a decidedly more eery look. Still, he appeared friendly, and was quick to introduce himself as Sven, fellow robot enthusiast. He was quickly cut off by another phone call, which he did not hesitate to answer.

“Popular guy,” murmured Gideon to Adrian waggishly.

Sven finished his brief recounting of the events of the past ten minutes and turned back to the seated men. Judging by the details of his life that he was sharing with total strangers, trench coat was an extrovert in the extreme. Gideon was not so enthused about narrating his life’s story, but he was happy enough to engage in conversation. It was rather dandy that he had already found some new friends with which to share his enthusiasm for the journey that they were about to undertake. This was going to be a good day.

“Me? Not much, man,” Gideon answered. “I’m just a dude here to see the sights and pilot some robots. Gideon is what they call me.” Gesturing to Adrian with a grin, he added: “But this guy is way more interesting. He has rocket launchers on his wheelchair.”

“…Oh, sorry.” Adrian said, blinking a few times. “I was being sarcastic when I said all that stuff about the boosters and the missiles and the coffee. All this thing does is elevate to a standing position. It’s nothing terribly special, there are plenty of chairs that do that. Personally, I’m more interested in that weird guy… What did he say his name was, Jack Shades? There were, like, sooo many questions I wanted to ask him, but I think he went inside already.” The young man paused for a minute and scratched his head. “Oh, you were joking about the rockets, weren’t you? Whoops.”

Amongst the excited voices of the first round of applicants, Jean was the only one grumbling: The crowd was really starting to get on his nerves, and the sharp increase in hooting and hollering caused by the opening of the doors wasn’t helping any. Reluctantly, he followed the other 47 selected individuals into the lab. This whole thing was turning into far more of a hassle than Jean had bargained for, and he was starting to wonder if it had really been worth skipping work. He’d gotten to see one of the cool robots up close, sure, but between the delays, noisy crowd, and veritable army of buffoons everywhere, his desire to complete the application process was waning very quickly.

Things didn’t get any better once he got inside. The mechanic didn’t even got a chance to decide exactly how bummed out to be before he was nudged in the shoulder and forced to initiate conversation with the young woman beside him.

"Jean right? What do you think this selection process is going to consist of?" the eye-patched girl had asked.

“Jean-François, and I haven’t the least idea.” Jean snapped, cutting the young woman off mid-sentence. His tone dripped with exasperation as he twisted the pronunciation of the ‘n’s in his name, indicating disgust as best he could. After all, he’d managed to avoid small talk up until this point, and he didn’t have any intention of stopping now. Taking a step away from the girl, Jean glared forwards, intent on killing the conversation.

“That I was, Rocket Man, that I was,” acknowledged Gideon with smile. This kid was a riot. “Gotta say that I was curious about that guy too. Seemed like he knew more than he let on,” the drummer concurred. It had piqued his interest that Mister Shades chose to honour his namesake by wearing dark sunglasses in such overcast weather, but chances were that it was just part of his look. Gideon could approve of that.

Incandescent Laboratories: Interior (Jean, Amber)

“Hmm. You lot are certainly much quieter than I’d anticipated. None of you have any questions?” The guide inquired as he continued to lead the group through the complex. He shrugged. “Ah well, I’m sure you’re all quite overwhelmed at the moment. Perfectly understandable. Well, here we are!” With a wide, sweeping gesture, the cheery man ushered the group into a brightly lit room.

As the applicants were unceremoniously shuffled into the chamber, the first thing they noticed were the seats arranged in the center of the room. Looking similar to what might be found in a race car, the seats were arranged in five back-to-back rows, each with a belt to secure its user and an intricate-looking headset attached to the top. Two attendants were in the corner of the room. One of them was operating some kind of machinery, but the other approached the group when she noticed them standing there.

“Thanks, Ralph. I’ll take it from here.” She said brusquely, closing the door before he had a chance to respond. “Everyone take a seat. Chop chop, we’re on a tight schedule here.” As the group complied, she rapidly took a count, then continued speaking before everyone had even managed to be seated. “Only forty-seven, huh? Alright, then. My name is Harvey, and I will be giving everyone a quick safety briefing so that you morons don’t fry your brains. Just kidding, that doesn't happen. The helmet-looking machines dangling precariously above your heads are neural interfacing devices. We call them controllers. When they are activated, you will be linked directly to a robot, which you will all henceforth refer to as proxies or else face immediate disqualification. Once the controller has been activated, it will begin to intercept your neural signals and you will be unable to move any part of your body save for your face. Instead, these signals will be sent to the proxy itself, allowing you to move it directly. Each helmet contains a screen, speakers, a camera, and a microphone. The screen and speakers will allow you to see and hear what is in the proxy’s environment, while the camera and microphone will allow you to interact with other pilots through communication channels. You have full control over what audio and video you send, and you can choose whether or not to receive any from others. This is useful for blocking out annoying people. In order to eliminate distractions, the controllers are both lightproof and soundproof. That means we won’t be able to hear you scream out here. Don’t worry, though, we’ll be monitoring you. Always monitoring. As stated in the waivers you all signed before coming here, Incandescent Laboratories is not accountable for any and all physical harm and/or mental trauma that results from the trial you are about to undergo. Any questions? Good. Lower the controllers!”

Before any of the applicants had a chance to process what Harvey had just said, the interfacing helmets mounted on their chairs slid down over their heads. Everything went dark. After a brief moment, a woman appeared onscreen. She had long orange hair and wore spectacles and a clean, white jacket. She sat cross-legged at a desk with her fingers interlocked, a devious look in her eyes.

“Greetings, candidates.” She spoke in a grandiose tone. “You are no doubt curious as to the nature of the selection process you’ve heard so much about. As those of you who have already donned the controllers have probably surmised, it will involve piloting the proxies. However, rather than the genuine article, you will be controlling virtual machines in a simulated environment. After all, it wouldn’t do to have people with no experience piloting such expensive equipment. As for the assessment itself… well, what better place to test your mettle than in the heat of combat?!” The woman chuckled. “That’s right! The test will be a forty-eight (or so) person death match between the applicants. Only the last four standing will be accepted. When the game begins, you will have a one-minute head start during which it will be impossible to interact with others. After that, all bets are off. Everything goes. No holds barred! If your proxy is destroyed or becomes immobilized, you lose, and you will receive an alert each time an enemy proxy is eliminated. Have you ever seen that movie, The Starvation Sports? It’s kind of like that. Oh, also, if five minutes pass without anyone being disqualified, everyone’s positions will be displayed on a map! Fun, right? Oh, but enough rules. You want some more details, right? Here’s what your robots and the battlefield will look like.

The woman was replaced by an information screen, displaying a map and an image of a proxy with some statistics next to it.
Eventually, the lady reappeared. “Well, I believe that’s everything. Now, let’s get started!” She gave a demented cackle and began spinning around in her chair gleefully as the screen went black.

__________
Instance 1 (Jean, Amber)

As Jean entered the simulation, his proxy stood at the edge of the map. Behind him was a steep drop-off that gave way to an empty, sky-blue void. To his left and right, he could see other proxies in the distance. They were also busy taking in their surroundings. Straight ahead was a barren, rocky field. Outcroppings and ridges were abundant, and would provide decent cover, and the terrain’s varying elevation formed small hills and valleys. As he attempted to move, he found controlling the proxy to be awkward. Despite the commands for locomotion being drawn directly from his mind, this machine was very different from his own body and would take some getting used to. It suddenly made sense why everyone had a minute long head start.

Amber found herself in very much the same situation. However, rather than the rugged landscape Jean occupied, she was standing before a wall of trees.

__________
Incandescent Laboratories: Outside (Gideon, Adrian, Sven)

The people gathered outside watched in amazement and confusion at what they were seeing. The video of the woman that had been shown to the first group of applicants had also been played through the projector on the wall of the building. The assembly conversed in hushed tones as she explained the rules of the test, an excited buzz spreading through the crowd. Everything quieted down for a moment after the video ended, but then, the image onscreen was replaced by a view of the virtual island described in the briefing. The group burst into frenzied shouts as they saw the participants’ proxies running around.

A minute later, the fighting began. As the battle was displayed for all to see, the spectators yelled and cheered on their friends or favorite competitors. Half an hour later, only a handful of proxies remained. Everyone was on the edge of their seats, but before the match ended, the white proxy that had spoken before called for the next group. A new set of names appeared on the wall, this time including Sven, Gideon, and Adrian. The three entered the building, undergoing the same process as the first group, and soon entered the simulation themselves.

__________
Instance 2 (Gideon, Adrian, Sven)

Gideon was standing at the corner of the rocky area, the north end of the river immediately to his right. On the other side, he could clearly see the forest. Sven, on the other hand, found himself on the far west side of the island, the tree line extending in both directions as far as the eye could see. Adrian was in the southeast portion of the arena, surrounded by rock formations.


Note: Chronologically, the first match is completed before the second begins. However, we will be playing them both at the same time.

So Ore has generic knockoffs of Earthly movies as well. That's nice.
-----
I... shouldn't be wandering around but there's nothing else to do until it starts, Sven thought as he looked around the forest simulation. He started circling a tree in front of him. I guess I can try and figure out these controls. As Sven thought of playing the Legend of Zelda he pulled out the longsword. I'm assuming that'll be useful. He put it away and looked down at the ground. Short s***. Ah well, at least it moves.

her movements clunky and slightly unbalanced, Amber took off into the forest ahead of her. She tried to think of a strategy that might let her win.
This paint job will stick out like a sore thumb in the rocky terrain so ill just stick to the forest.
she found a large tree surrounded by a think layer of shrubbery and relatively flat and clear terrain in front of it. She decided that it seemed like a good ambush point and quickly pulled herself up the tree until she was surrounded by foliage enough to be concealed.

Now to wait for prey, she smirked Just like the old man taught me.