Help! I Have A Crush On My Rival!?: Prompts 16 & 17

(Read the previous prompt here.)

Prompt 16 - The Redo:

My movement choices are to go left or go down. Again, I’ll go left.

Card Draw: 6 of Spades (black)  This is the second black 6, which may or may not affect potential.  Things looked like they were about to be getting better for Gwen and Lance, and all my story ideas were positive moving forward.  Let’s see what wrench this throws into my plans.

Prompt: Your Rival’s previous act of pettiness has been eating at you (the 6 of clubs in Prompt 3) and you finally can’t help but mention it to your Rival. Their response is dismissive and hurtful. …Or is it? If it surprises you, don’t lose a Potential.

This isn’t too bad.  I actually had a call back in mind to that coffee event. I always thought of it as a positive outcome, but based on this description, we’ll have to see what happens, perhaps bring in some solo tools. I’ll hold off on determining the effect on Potential until after I write the scene.

*     *     *

<How does Lance initiate contact? (d8) 1-4:contacts Gwen by text  5-7: waits till he gets to the store  8: Asks for Morgan’s help  Roll= 3>

RGPSolo.com Oracle: Does Gwen respond? (50/50): Yes

*    *    *

I just realized something.  I now had Gwen’s phone number! I had power of access to her whenever I wanted.

No, not like in a stalky way.  I wasn’t planning on harassing  her, and I had no intention of calling her every minute of every day, like a needy puppy.  Truth be told, every time I call someone unexpected, I wonder if I’m bothering them. I certainly don’t want Gwen to be annoyed with me. But having her number, and she having mine for that matter, meant if we had any legitimate need to get in touch with other, we could without having to wait till Saturday.

It was Friday night. I decided to try and correct my error from several weeks ago.  So I texted her.

<Texts on a Cell Phone>

Lance: Hello, Gwen. This Lance. Please pick one from each group.
Lance: <coffee cup emoji> Regular or Decaf?
Lance: <cow emoji> Creamer, Oatmilk, nothing?
Lance: Splenda, Stevia, Swt&Lo, Equal, nothing?
Lance: Flavors?
Lance: Anything else?

It was a lot and I was afraid I wouldn’t get it all typed out before she responded. That probably wouldn’t have been a problem, but I wanted to give my full presentation without interruptions.

Then, I waited . . . And waited.

Nothing.  No response.  No big deal, I thought.  Maybe she’s out at a movie, or she’s doing something with her family and decided to turn her phone off to avoid disruptions. After a while, I decided to go about my business.  When Gwen sees the message, she’ll respond.

But she didn’t, and I climbed into bed wondering if I had done something wrong.

The next morning, I saw that Gwen had responded.  I never heard the ding.  She must have texted while my “do not disturb” was still on.

<Texts on a cell phone>

Gwen: Sry. Just saw this. Were u asking to pick up coffee for me?
Gwen: Thx, but not necessary. See you at the D&D.

Dismissed! I can’t seem to catch a break with Gwen and coffee, can I?  She does realize I’m trying to offer her a friendly gesture, doesn’t she? I can’t believe she would just brush it off so easily, especially after what she told me on the phone.  Part of me is telling me to just let it go.  But I would really like to know what is going on.

<At this point, except for the prompt’s direction, I’m not sure why Gwen would not accept Lance’s offer.  Let’s start with an rpgsolo oracle question:

The only indication Gwen likes coffee is Lance’s phone conversation with Art in Prompt 3.  Does Gwen actually like coffee on a regular basis? (Likely) Yes, and . . . She picked up a cup on the way in to the store.

Interesting.  There are a few ways this can go.>

When I walked into the “Dice & Deck,” I saw Gwen was already there .  .  . and she had a paper cup in her hand sporting the JavaBeans logo.

“So, you do like coffee,” I noted as I walked up to her.

“I’m not addicted to it or anything, like my dad,” she said. “But I definitely enjoy it.”

“Do you remember last month when I brought you that latte, and you refused it?  I was a little hurt because I was trying to make up for saying some dumb stuff to you about your game and the Holiday Bowl, but your reason about being diabetic made sense.  So, I tried last night to make amends again, this time making sure I got what you wanted. But you blew me off again. I was thinking that maybe you just didn’t like coffee, except I walk in and see you with this.  What’s the deal, Gwen?”

“Nothing’s the ‘deal’,” Gwen insisted. “I just don’t want you to think you have to buy me coffee every time you do something I don’t like.”

“Every time? I’ve yet to buy you coffee once! At least one you’ve wanted.”

“And you don’t have to.  Like I told you, I just want to be your friend. That’s enough.”

All she wants to be is my friend?

“Gwen!” Another voice suddenly broke in.  “Look! It came this week!”

Mark was standing behind Gwen, excitedly holding up a copy of OverPush, an expansion for the game A Bunch of Scales. It was so new, it was still enclosed in its shrink wrap.

“Cool!” Gwen exclaimed, seeing the box.

“I’m ready to play if you are,” Mark offered.

“Of course! I’ll talk to you later, Lance. Okay?”

I didn’t feel “okay” about it, but I never got to say so because she was already across the room with Mark, finding an empty table.
==========
I wasn’t sure where this scene was heading, so around the halfway point, I pulled the card for the next scene to see if it gave me any direction, which it did.  As Lance was definitely not happy with this outcome, I will reduce Potential by one, giving me a total of 5.  More of Lance’s reaction will be revealed in the next prompt.

*     *     *

Prompt 17 - The Cup:

As previously mentioned, this card was pulled during the previous scene.  Rolling a d6 to determine the direction of my next pull. Even: Move left  Odd: Move down  Roll: 3 - Down

Card Draw: 4 of Spades (black)  This is the second black 4, which may or may not affect potential. 

Prompt: You have a golden opportunity to embarrass your Rival in front of those people they were so keen to impress. Do you take it? If you resist, don’t lose a Potential and instead describe why you have decided to take the higher road.

A determination of change in potential will have to wait until the end.

*    *    *

What the hell!? Doesn’t Gwen know I’m dying here?  She bears her soul to me about wanting to be my friend. I make a grand gesture . . .  medium one, at least . . .  by offering to buy her coffee, and she acts as though it’s nothing.  Nothing! Explaining it by saying she only wants to be friends. Who does she think she is?

And since when can Mark just sweep her away with a shiny new game?  Didn’t he see Gwen was talking to me?  Not him.  Me! Mark needs to show me some more respect. I’m a board member for Knizia’s sake!

After finding a table, Mark unwrapped the OverPull expansion and added it to his original A Bunch of Scales game. Neoprene player mats, stacks of chips, decks of cards, and dice, dice, and more dice covered the table. Adding the forty dollar expansion, Mark’s entire Scales collection had to be well over $200. And what he had on the table was only a portion.  The rest was still in the box, well maintained I might add, resting in a chair. 

As the two played, Gwen would occasionally take a sip of her coffee, each time placing it down closer to the edge of the table.  In fact, it currently appeared to be slightly hanging over the edge . . . directly above the open Bunch of Scales box!  It wouldn’t take much for it to fall over, the plastic lid coming undone once it hit the box, sending coffee everywhere.  Cards would be ruined.  Player mats would be stained. Gwen would be embarrassed. I wouldn’t be surprised if Mark wanted nothing more to do with her after that.  Come to think of it, he would probably demand that Gwen pay for a new game to replace the one she destroyed. Serves her right, after blowing me off. I can’t wait to see it happen.

Gwen reached for some dice, coming within inches of her cup.  Just a little closer.

A moment later, while adjusting her cards, her fingers brushed against the paper container.  Almost.

Gwen rolled a die that was about to fall off the table, right next to the teetering cup.  Immediately, she reached to stop it from flying off the table and . . .

I grabbed the cup right before Gwen’s hand hit it.

She looked up at me.  I had just saved her from public humiliation, however, her inner embarrassment over what almost happened was clear to me.

“Thank you,” she barely whispered, reaching out for her cup.

“I . . . I didn’t want Mark’s game to get ruined,” I said, handing it back to her. 

Gwen’s eyes expressed her gratitude and indebtedness. She understood my true intentions.

“I think Erik’s setting up some demonstration games of Andromeda Factions,” I said.  “I better get over there to help. It’s for my game campaign and all.”

“Yeah, you should do that,” Gwen agreed. “Talk to you later?”

“Of course,” I said as I turned to find Erik.

Before I got too far, I called over my shoulder.  “Careful with that coffee. I don’t want to have to buy you another one.”

Gwen smiled and I think I saw her blush.

<I don’t lose a Potential because I made the right choice, and I hope it’s obvious why.>

(Read the next prompt here.)

===============
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Help! I Have A Crush On My Rival!?: Prompts 14 & 15

(Read the previous prompts here.)

Prompt 14 - The Lunch:

Roll a die to determine direction.  Result is go up.

Card Draw: 9 of Spades (black)  Because it is the other black nine, we have to use the second prompt.

Prompt: You and your Rival have to face the consequences of how bad your collaboration went before. How do you deal with them? If the two of you manage to successfully clean up the mess without letting your conflict make it worse, don’t lose a Potential.

I’m going to have to wait till the end of this scene to determine if I lose any potential.

*    *    *

<At the end of the last prompt, Lance was leaving the Dice & Deck.  I’ll ask the next couple of questions using the oracle at RPGsolo.

Does Gwen see me leave the Dice & Deck? (I’m going to say Likely, for a couple of reasons. 1) It’s not a huge store, and the gaming group is primarily collected in one area.  It is very likely that any person would notice someone coming or going even if they weren’t paying close attention.  2. While I want to honor the randomness of this scene, I’ve already been brainstorming and would prefer that it happen immediately  Therefore, I will influence the oracle by nudging it in my favor.): Yes.

Does Lance make it into his car? (50/50): Yes.>

*     *     *

Shoot!  Gwen must’ve seen me leave because I noticed her in my rearview walking across the parking lot, calling my name.  If only I could get out of there fast.  If asked, I could always say I didn’t see her.  I turned the key and glanced in my mirror before backing out, only to see Gwen standing immediately behind my car.  She must’ve run the last several yards. I had to admit, she has guts.  Unfortunately, I parked along the curb, meaning I couldn’t move forward.  With her blocking me from backing out, I was trapped.

“Where are you going?” Gwen called out.  My window was already down -- crappy air conditioning -- so I heard her clearly.

“Home,” I called.

“Why? Are you done asking for votes?”

“I’ve talked to everyone I need to talk to.”

“Don’t you want to at least play some games?  Turn off the car so we can talk.”

I knew she wasn’t going to leave until I gave her an explanation, so I did as she asked and turned off the car.  Once Gwen was sure I wasn’t going anywhere, she stepped around and approached the window.

“What’s up with you?” She asked.  “It’s barely eleven. You never leave this early.”

“I’m just not feeling it today. I think I’d rather get some other things done.”

Gwen looks at me quizzically. “Is everyone just not interested in Andromeda Factions?” She said, fishing for a reason as to why I was leaving so early.

“It’s what I should have expected,” I said, hoping to give a reason she would accept. “The people who already play, like it.  The others . . . eh.”

“Don’t give up,” she encouraged. “ I thought you were really excited about having your game featured.”

I didn’t want to make a big deal about it, but I couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“What’s the point!” I exclaimed in frustration.  “I’m not rich!  I play by the rules!  Apparently, that means I don’t have a chance.”

Gwen stared at me, confused. “Rich?  Playing by the rules?  What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I am talking about!”

“No!  I don’t!”

“Unlike you, I can’t . . . I won’t buy people's votes!”

The rapid change of expressions that came across Gwen’s face was dizzying.  First, it was sheer bewilderment. Then it switched to anger, but for only a moment before turning into steadfast resolve.  She scanned the area around the “Dice & Deck,” then ordered me out of my car.

“What?”

“I said, get out of the car!” Gwen reached in through my window to flick the lock. Then grabbed the handle and pulled the car door open.  I shrunk back from what I perceived was an attack when she reached in and yanked me out by the arm.

“What the . . . “ I started.

“Burgers or chicken?” She asked with aggression..

“Huh?”

She waved her hand, pointing at two nearby businesses: Sand-Which? and Featherless, two poorly-named but popular fast food restaurants.

“Burgers or chicken!” Gwen repeated, her piercing brown eyes demanding an answer. 

“Uh, burgers?” I admit. I was a little scared.

“Okay, now get in my car!”

Gwen, having never let go of my arm, pulled me to her vehicle several spaces away.

*       *      *

“I thought you wanted a burger?”

I looked up at Gwen’s question as I dunked my Chicken Chunk in a container of barbecue sauce. 

“Oh, this?” I asked, wiggling the Chunk in my hand for emphasis.  “I guess I changed my mind.”

“You know, Featherless has better chicken.  We could've gone there.”

“Forgive me,” I said defensively. “I’ve never been kidnapped before.  I had to make a snap decision. I guess I wasn’t thinking straight.”

Gwen rolled her eyes.  “I didn’t kidnap you.”

“You didn’t?  You dragged me to your car without telling me what you were doing. Then you wouldn’t speak to me the whole way over here, leaving me to think the worst.”

“Do kidnapper’s buy you a Sand-Which? Chicken Chunk Deluxe Meal?” Gwen said, trying to get me to see reason.

“Maybe that’s how you lure in your victims?”

“Stop joking, Lance!”

I felt like a chastened child under her admonishing stare.  Those eyes.

“When I first heard you say you thought I was rigging the election,” Gwen explained, “I was shocked.  Then, I was pissed!  I thought, ‘the heck with you! I’m done!’ and was about to walk away.  But I didn’t, Lance.  I lost your friendship once, and I wasn’t about to lose it again.  At least, not without trying.  So I’m here, buying you lunch, and having a serious talk.  Why in the world would you think I was buying peoples votes?”

Lost my friendship?  When were we ever friends?

“I heard you talking to Morgan earlier,” I explained. “I heard her say you could count on her vote and that she would do anything for you. That’s when you told her you would get her her money later.  To Morgan’s credit, she did try to refuse, but you insisted.  You know, ‘A promise is a promise.’”

“That’s what this is all about?” Gwen said.  “Are you sure you heard us mentioned the vote?”

I considered my answer as I finished another chicken chunk.  “I’m pretty sure I did.”

“No!  You didn’t!” Gwen was annoyed.  I could almost see the steam shooting out of her ears. “Morgan was agreeing to come over and sit with Fisher while my father was at work and I had to take my mother to a medical appointment. Idiot! She does that sometimes when Fisher is not feeling well enough to be left alone. And, yes, she gets paid for that.”

“Sorry,” I apologized.  “I didn’t . . .”

“Why didn’t you ask me?  Or better, yet.  Why didn’t you trust me?! You know about my faith.  You know who I am. At least I thought you did.  Why in the world would I pay for votes?  When have you seen me do anything underhanded or sneaky.”

“The ‘Extermo Tent’?” I replied hesitantly. 

The whole restaurant turned as Gwen slammed her palms down on the table.  “That stupid card game! You still hung up on that?  I was a kid, Lance! Sometimes bratty, but still a little kid!.  How long are you going to judge me for being a kid?”

She dropped her face in her hand and took some deep breaths to calm down.  I wisely chose to remain silent.  Once calm, she raised her face.

“Just . . . just finish your meal and we can go.”

“I’m sorry.  I . . .”

“I don’t want to talk anymore.  Just eat.”

She unenthusiastically bit on a fry as we finished our lunch in silence.

*        *        *

I made a rol on my reaction table to see how Gwen would respond when Lance accused her of bribery.  The table is really for determining an opponent's reaction upon meeting, but would work in this situation with a little interpretation.  Roll: 4 Hostile.  Not great, but not the absolute worst.  Basically, I decided she’d be mad, hurt, and not ready for an apology, but wouldn’t storm off in a huff., leaving Lance stranded in the restaurant.

I would say that goes down as a loss of one potential.  That brings the total to 4.

*     *     *

Prompt 15 - The Call:

I can go left or down.  I’ll go left.

Card Draw: 2 of Diamonds (red)  Add 2 Potential: 6 Potential total. This is another second card with the same number and color.

Prompt: Some time has passed since you and your Rival had to team up. One of you admits a little fondness for that time. Which of you is it? When is a calm enough time for this to slip out?

The original red 2 (the 2 of hearts) referred to the upcoming Holiday Bowl.  Since that is still in progress, I don’t think this prompt really refers to this collaboration. Instead, I think the time being referenced is much, much earlier.

This also marks half the cards revealed. Based on my previous decision, that means the next Joker will certainly end the game instead of triggering a reshuffle.

*     *      *

<Who initiates contact?  (d6 - Even: Lance; Odd: Gwen) 5 Odd-Gwen>

<Texts on a Cell Phone>
Unknown Texter: Lance. Can I give Gwen ur #?
Lance: ??
Lance: Who is this?
Unknown Texter: Morgan.
Lance: How’d u get this #?
Morgan: I have my ways. <halo emoji><laughing eyes closed emoji>
Lance: <Vampire emoji>
Morgan: HEY! I’m trying to do you a favor. I can just tell her ur not interested.
Lance: NO NO She can have it.
Lance: Why?
Morgan: She wants to call u.
Lance: Why?
Morgan: U tell me. What’s up with U 2?
Lance: Nothing. We’re just friends.
Morgan: With benefits? <kissyface emoji>
Lance: <red angry face emoji>
Morgan: JK
Morgan: Geez. I know Gwen wouldn’t do that.
Lance: What does she want to talk to me about?
Morgan: No <lightbulb emoji>. She’ll call you later. Bye.
Lance: Thx.
Lance: AND FORGET YOU HAVE THIS #!
Morgan: <monkey speak no evil emoji><fingers crossed emoji><halo emoji>
Lance: MORGAN!!!!!!!!

*          *          *

Silly me.  I thought later meant in ten or twenty minutes.  I wanted to be available when Gwen called,  , so I just laid my phone next to me and waited.

And waited . . .

And waited . . .

A couple of hours went by without hearing from her. Eventually, I gave up and got ready for bed. Wouldn’t you know it, right as I was tucked comfortable under my covers, the phone rang..

“Hello?”

“Hey, Lance.  It’s Gwen. I hope it’s not too late.”

“Not at all,” I said, and it wasn’t a lie.  Sure, I was in bed, but I much preferred speaking with Gwen right now over sleep.  “You sound tired. Would you rather call back tomorrow.”

“I’m fine.  It’s probably the wine. Morgan hung around a while, and we shared a bottle. I think I had the bigger half.” There was a slight chuckle in her voice and I thought she might be a little tipsy.  “Before we knew it, it was nearly 11. Don’t be mad at her. I was really pressuring her to get me your number. She didn’t want to, but I was pretty relentless.”

“I just want to know how she got it,” I admitted. “Does she do that a lot?”

“Hack people’s phone numbers?”

“No. Come over to watch Fisher.”

“Oh, yeah.  Whenever there’s a time he’s not comfortable being left alone, I ask her to sit with him.  Believe it or not, she enjoys it.  They play games, maybe watch a movie.  I bet they could talk for hours.  To be honest, I think Fisher has a crush on Morgan.”

“Does Morgan feel the same?” I asked, curious as to what Morgan got out of the relationship.

“Oh, no,” Gwen quickly assured me.  “She thinks of him more like as a good friend, something like a brother. I mean, she has a blast . . . and the pay doesn’t hurt . . . but I think she’s careful not to get too involved because of his condition. She’s never told me that, of course, but I can understand why she wouldn’t want to get serious with someone who . . . who might not be around for you.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, realizing the conversation might be bringing up some strong emotions.

“It’s okay.  It’s something we deal with.  Anyway, I’m just glad Morgan’s willing to help out.  It’s comforting to know Fisher is with someone I trust, and has fun with.  Lance, I wanted to explain about Saturday.”

“You did, and I admit it.  I was too hasty. I should have asked you,” I said quickly, knowing that I probably wouldn’t have done anything different, but hoping to salvage what I could of our relationship.

“Thanks,” Gwen said. “But there’s more.  I want you know why I got so mad.”

This was getting confusing.  I thought I knew why she was mad.

“I didn’t have a lot of friends growing up,” Gwen explained.  “Not a surprise. Who wants to be friends with the fat girl.”

“You weren’t fat,” I assured her.

“Thanks, but you don’t have to say that just to be nice.  You didn’t know me in middle school.”

I wasn’t just being nice. I meant it. But before I could tell her, she continued.

“Then, when I was in eighth grade, Fisher returned to public school.  He is only two years younger than me, so we went to the same middle school for the next year.  I spent all my free time making sure Fisher was okay.  That he had no trouble getting around and no one picked on him or teased him.  Needless to say, I wasn’t winning any popularity contests.

“For most of my childhood, our family’s focus was on Fisher, so when high school came around, my parents practically insisted that I find something to do that was an interest to me.  I told them I was fine, but they nearly forced me to come to the “Dice & Deck,” knowing that Fisher and I played a lot of board games. They thought it would be good for me to socialize with other kids with similar interests.  To be sure I went, they drove me there that first day.

“I don’t know if you remember, but I was nervous as shit. Sorry,” Gwen apologized for her language, “But the word ‘nervous’ alone doesn’t begin to describe how I felt.  I knew no one. I had no idea what to do. But you asked me if I wanted to play a game. A boy, who didn’t know me, was talking to me.  It’s embarrassing to say now, Lance, but I thought I was in heaven.”

I didn’t know what to say.  I was just being nice, something I’d done with tens, if not hundreds, of other newcomers before and since. All I meant to express was “Welcome to our group,” but it obviously meant more to her.

“When you won,” Gwen continued, “My greatest fear was that you might think I wasn’t very good and not want to play with me anymore. I wasn’t a challenge.”

“You’re crazy if you think that,” I said, knowing almost immediately that I was being too blunt. “I mean, you did really well for someone who didn’t know the game.”

“Maybe, but still, I went home and pulled up every video and strategy guide I could find about Turf Wars. I didn’t want to look like a loser.”

“You accomplished that,” I admitted. “In fact, after you won, you called me a beginner.”

“It was supposed to be a joke,” she told me.

“Well, it hurt.”

Gwen didn’t speak for several moments.  “I didn’t know.  I guess that why you stopped playing with me after a while.”

“I stopped playing because you kept beating me. Who wants to lose all the time?”

She was silent again.

“That was my mistake, Lance. I only wanted to be your friend. I didn’t know being good at games would drive you away.”

When I didn’t respond, she continued.

“What hurt me the most last Saturday was when you brought up your Turf Wars card. It’s not because I thought you were wrong.  It’s because you were absolutely right. You were so smug and sure of yourself back then, I wanted to teach you a lesson. When I saw you carelessly drop your card, I thought, ‘let’s see how good he is without it.’ I wanted you to suffer.

“But, I also wanted to be the hero. I thought if I found your card, you would . . . well, if I’m being honest . . . you might love me. Stupid, I know.  So, when you spit in my face, my world was shattered. You made it obvious that you wanted nothing to do with me. The person who once showed some kindness to me now thought I was a horrible person. And it was all my fault. My prank destroyed any chance of the friendship I was hoping for.

“When you brought that up during our talk, I realized it was happening again. That prank could still destroy our relationship. I got mad at you, when really, I’m the one to blame.”

“No, you’re not,” I assured her. “I’m the one who jumped to conclusions.”

“Because you knew that I didn’t play fair.”

“That was then, Gwen.  Like you said, we were kids.  That’s not you now.”

I waited for a response, and there was none. I lay in my bed, listening to the silence transmitting between our phones.

“Gwen.  You still there.”

“Yes,” she breathed.

“Let’s start over. Saturday?”

“Do you think it’s worth it?

“It is to me.”

More silence.

“It’s late,” Gwen said.  “And I’ve had too much wine. Saturday, maybe.”

“Saturday,” I agreed, and hung up.

Now, if only I could keep from messing it up this time.

===============

(Read the next prompt here.)

===============

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Help! I Have A Crush On My Rival!?: Prompt 12 & 13

(Read the previous prompt here.)

Prompt 12 - The Campaign:

I’ll turn over the card to the right.

Card Draw: 9 of Clubs (black)  I am going to use my last Insight to keep from losing a potential.

Prompt: You and your Rival have to work together on something, but it goes poorly. You get in each other’s way, perhaps you even deliberately sabotage one another. How does it go wrong?

*  *  *

The Game Board held an impromptu meeting the last Saturday of October. After most of the players had arrived for the day, Elaine asked everyone to stop playing and join her and Art near the rear corner of the store.  I saw an empty seat next to Gwen and took the opportunity to sit next to her. She smiled, fine with my choice. 

“We have had many good and thoughtful recommendations for our featured game at this year’s Holiday Bowl,” Elaine announced. “While the Board and I have been able to whittle the options down, we still have four great options.  This year, we have decided to leave the choice up to the entire group.”

Being on the board myself, none of this was new information.  I guess technically, I could have been standing with Elaine and Art, but I had nothing in particular to add to the announcement, and I wasn’t about to pass up on the opportunity to sit next to Gwen.

Elaine went on to list the four games that were up for consideration.  It was no real surprise that two of the options were Andromeda Factions and Wyvern’s Retreat.  The third game being considered was Passage to Fly, an aviation themed game where each player runs an airline, and establish routes around the globe.  The goal is to earn the most points based on how many airports to which you travel and the types of flights you offer.  Passage was an old standard, but well-loved and a great tournament choice.  The final game was Mediterrania, a resource-management, worker-placement game set in a mildly futuristic version of the Mediterranean Sea area. Of course, the gameplay was very common, nearly every area of the globe has been used as a setting for a worker placement game. This particular title, however, was released only this past year and still on everyone’s hot list, which is why it made the cut.

“We have decided to hold a vote,” Elaine said after listing the four games.  “Starting next week, each contributor is encouraged to campaign for their game.  Tell people about your game, play it with them, maybe even set up a mini tournament.  Whatever you want, in order to convince others that your game should be featured in the Bowl. The campaign will continue for three weeks.  Then, the Saturday before Thanksgiving, we will hold a secret ballot where everyone will have an opportunity to vote.  The game with the most votes will be this year’s Holiday Bowl game.”

“And remember,” Art cut in. “This is supposed to be a friendly competition, and we are one big, gamer family.  These are all good games, so while informed critiques and comparisons are encouraged, I don’t want to hear anyone belittling someone for choosing a particular game, or worse, speak bad about that person. Is that clear?”

That seemed a bit strong, considering our group, but I was pretty sure Art was looking at me, as if I was the focus of this warning. C’mon, dude.  That hurts.

“You knew about this, didn’t you?” Gwen asked when the meeting was done.

“The vote?  Yes. In fact, I may have suggested it.”

Gwen looked at me suspiciously.  “Really?  That doesn’t sound like you.”

“Art and Elaine were leaning toward Andromeda Factions, but I thought it might look bad if they picked a game suggested by one of the Board members. So, I suggested if they held a vote, everyone would think it was a fair decision.”  Okay, maybe my game wasn’t really being considered any more than the others, but I thought it would sound better than the truth: a vote was probably the only way my game would be chosen.

Gwen held out her hand. “Then may the best person win.”

I looked at it for a moment.  It was only a handshake, but it was still holding her hand.  I took the offered hand and did my best to keep my hand from trembling.

“Agreed!”

*     *     *

The next Saturday morning, I arrived at the “Dice & Deck” ready to hit the campaign trail. My plan was to hand out a bunch of booster card packs to promote the game. My reality, however, was that I simply didn’t have the money for that many cards. Besides, Art would probably consider it a bribe and disqualify me.  Instead, I printed out some flyers to hand out that listed the highlights of the game and give me an opportunity to answer any questions.

Almost immediately, I saw that Gwen was taking this seriously.  All over the gaming section of the store were hung letter-sized posters printed on glossy paper.  In the middle was a black and white intricate drawing of a dragon or wyvern, with the words “VOTE FOR WYVERN’S RETREAT” surrounding it in thick, black, handwritten letters.  I had seen some of Gwen artwork in the past on notebooks she would bring with her or draw on the fly using scraps of paper.  She was good, but hers was more of a cartoonish style.  This wyvern drawing was more realistic with a lot of fine detail.  Then I noticed the signature just below the picture: Fisher.  Ah!  This was her brother’s work. <Using the oracle at rpssolo.com - Is Gwen a good artist? (50/50): Yes, but . . . she had her brother draw the wyvern for the poster.>

Gwen’s posters may have been more eye-catching than my flyers, but I still felt confident as I started handing them out and talking to people. However, as the morning went on, I began to understand why Gwen thought the card game’s interest was too niche. I first talked to group members who liked to play trading card games and they were very supportive. But as I reached out to others, they were less enthusiastic.  Either they didn’t play enough trading card games to be competitive or, if they did enjoy TCGs, it wouldn’t be their first choice for the tournament, especially if they weren’t familiar with Andromeda Factions and it’s nuances to begin with. Even Wayne wouldn’t commit. He was much more interested in the new game Mediterrania.

Desperate for more support, I searched for new blood.  That was how I ended up talking to two complete strangers in the comic book aisles.  Despite them having never once come to play games, (in fact, I never found out if they had any interest in board games at all) I told them all about the group and how much fun we have every Saturday.  I ended by handing them a flyer and inviting them to join the tournament.  They politely thanked me and moved down the aisle, grateful, I suspect, to have escaped my uncomfortable sales pitch.

I started to walk back to the rest of the group when I heard familiar voices from just around the corner of the comic book rack, out of eyesight.

“Are you sure it’s okay?” I heard Gwen ask.

“Absolutely,” Morgan affirmed. “You know you can count on me.  All you had to do was ask.”

“I thought so, but I didn’t want to assume.”

“Don’t be silly.  It’s fine,” Morgan assured her friend.

“Okay, and I’ll be sure you are paid. I just might not have the money for a couple of weeks.”

“You know, you don’t really have to pay me.”

“Thanks, but a promise is a promise.”

“And I appreciated it, but I’d do anything for you, Gwen.  Besides, I’m sure it will be fun.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Was Gwen buying votes, the exact thing I was afraid Art would think about me? I always thought Gwen was fair.  I couldn’t believe she would do this to me, and just when we were becoming friends.  Surprisingly, I was less mad and more hurt.  Maybe she wasn’t the person I thought . . . or hoped she was.

Still in my thoughts, I stepped out of the comic aisle and nearly collided with Morgan.  She took a step back and held up her hand, stopping me before I could say a word.

“Don’t even think about it, Lance. I’m already voting for Gwen.”

She took off before I could respond, leaving me standing with my last few flyers. In a dejected whisper, I responded anyway.

“I know.”

*     *     *

Prompt 13 - The Reveal:

I’m choosing the card above my location.

Card Draw: 10 of Clubs (black) Lose 1 potential.

Prompt: You’ve drastically misunderstood a neutral or perhaps even friendly action your Rival took, and will not realize it for some time. How? What made you misjudge them? Did they go about any of it the wrong way?

This is an interesting prompt for a journaling game, as it requires the author to have knowledge of a situation that they simply don’t have, especially since the prompt states you won’t realize it for some time.  This can be handled a number of ways (flashback to an earlier misunderstanding, a delayed journal post, etc.), but I’m just going to make it a continuation of the previous scene. I don’t want to give away any spoilers, but I’ve always expected this event to follow the classic Hallmark Movie 1 hour and 45 minute misunderstanding trope.

*     *     *

I plopped myself down in an empty seat at a table where Wayne, Erik, and a much younger boy, Aaron sat playing some train-themed game.

“Man, you look like you just lost your best friend,” Wayne remarked.

Wayne

“Is the game campaign going that poorly?” Erik asked.

“No,” I answered. “I mean, yeah. What do you expect when even your friends don’t want to vote for you?.” I cast an accusatory glance at Wayne, who self-consciously dropped his eyes. “But that’s not it.  I just heard Gwen talking to Morgan.”

“Morgan’s going to vote for Wyvern’s Retreat,” Wayne stated matter-of-factly.  “So, what?  We all knew that.”

“It’s not that she’s voting for Gwen,” I said.  “It’s why she’s voting for Gwen.  Gwen agreed to pay Morgan in exchange for her vote.”

“See!” Erik exclaimed.  “I told you she’d screw you over somehow! But I never expected bribery.”

“Are you sure?” Wayne asked.  “That doesn’t sound like Gwen.”

“Maybe,” Erik agreed, but quickly resumed the hunt for blood. “But you heard her!  Didn’t you, Lance?”

“Yes.  She told Morgan she wouldn’t have the money till later, but not to worry.  She would get paid.”

“I don’t know.  I’m still not convinced,” Wayne said. “Maybe I can ask Morgan.  She and I are close.”

“Dreams don’t count,” Erik said, suggesting the relationship was just wishful thinking on Wayne’s part.

“Don’t,” I told Wayne. “I don’t want them to think I was spying on them.”

“You’re at least going to tell Elaine and Art, aren’t you.” Erik asked.

“I don’t think so.  I don’t want Gwen to get in trouble.  It’s just a game.”

Suddenly, Wayne’s eyes widened in understanding. 

Erik, on the other hand, just seemed puzzled. “What are you talking about?  Cheating aside, I can’t believe you, of all the people here, will just let her win.  You can’t stand . . . Ouch!  What the heck, Wayne!”

I felt a brush against my leg as Wayne kicked Erik under the table.

“Erik, don’t be a lunkhead!” Wayne barked.  “Can’t you see it’s not about the game? It’s about Gwen.”

“What do you mean Gw . . .  Oh!”  Erik stared at me, astonished. 

Wayne had a rare look of sympathy. 

Aaron . . . well, I think we all forgot about Aaron.

So the cat was out of the bag.  Everyone knew.  Well, at least everyone that mattered.

“I couldn't care less what game we play at the Bowl,” I said. “In fact, I’ve had fun playing Wyvern with Gwen these past couple of weeks. We’ve actually been getting along. In fact, I thought we might be friends. But now this.  It hurts to think she could be so underhanded.”

“I’m still not sure if she was, Lance,” Wayne said.  “I mean, she never offered Erik or me money for our votes.” He looked to Erik for confirmation.

“Nope, not me,” he agreed.

“You’re going to have to talk to her,” Wayne told me.

“I can’t do that.  She might not want to talk to me anymore if I accuse her of cheating.”

“But I thought you said she was cheating?” Erik pointed out.

“I did. But maybe I’m wrong. But if she did, then . . . uh . . .  I don’t know.  I don’t know.” I gave up in frustration.

Wayne sat back in his chair.  “Pal, I’m afraid this is going to be a tough one. You either chance it by asking her or let the uncertainty gnaw at you.  You were better off when you hated each other.  And you!”  Wayne directed this to Aaron, who sat up at attention.  “Not a word about this to anyone.  If I even hear you mention Lance’s or Gwen’s name to another person, I’m going to tell everyone you pocket your aces!”

Aaron stared back, uncomprehending.

“I’m going to tell everyone you are a cheater!” Wayne explained in no uncertain terms.

Aaron’s eyes grew wide in fear.  No gamer wanted anyone to think he was a cheater. 

“N-No, Sir!” the kid stammered.  “Not a word.”  He even pulled his thumb and forefinger across his mouth in the old “zip your lip” pantomime.

Then, as though our conversation never took place, Wayne got back to business.

“Now, we have a game to finish.  You can watch if you want, Lance, but please, no advice.  Who’s turn is it?”

As Wayne looked to others for an answer, I stood up, left the rest of my flyers on the table, and headed for the door.

(Read the next promt here.)

===============

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