Game Theory
folder
zMisplaced [Admin use ONLY] › FF
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
8
Views:
2,439
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Category:
zMisplaced [Admin use ONLY] › FF
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
8
Views:
2,439
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the game that this fanfiction is written for, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
A Solemn Oath
Game Theory
Chapter 2: A Solemn Oath
=======================================================================================
An empty room. Pitch black. Unknown place. Unknown time. Unknown reality.
Do you, as representative of...
"Yes."
...all life in the multiverse,...
"I do."
...knowingly and willingly...
"Yep!"
...take on the responsibilities...
"I do."
...and risks...
"I do."
...of this sacred contract...
"Of course."
...and if victorious...
"Sounds good!"
...vow to uphold the harmony...
"Yes."
...of all Creation...
"Yes."
...with the whole of your being?
"Mhmm."
Amen. So be it. Another ten for a new millenium. Stand from the darkness and be recognized. Dagger, Etna, Femme...
A series of unseen spotlights burst from the darkness, illuminating the heroines sequentially, gradually allowing each of the chosen ten to squint through the darkness to see their comrades and soon-to be-rivals.
...Maria, Monica, Nel, Rikku...
The majority of the avatars are standing now, with seven names called. They look at each other. Recognition, and the lack thereof. Tension. Notably absent is nervousness: These paragons have come too far in a short mortal life to be intimidated.
...Rinoa, Yuffie, Yuna. This is your last chance to depart in peace. Heretofore, your soul is at risk.
Nobody moved. Glances back and forth.
So be it. You have selected champions?
Partial nods of assent. Idle stretching. Rikku stepped forward. "Look, whoever-you-are-up-in-the-dark-somewhere, there's one thing we all want to know. What exactly are we stepping into here? Your messenger wasn't exactly clear with us." Soft tapping of worn boots and shoes echoed in approval. Ten minds turned to events long since past.
It was a fine day for flying. Or governing. Or scheming. Or playing. Or fighting. Or even lounging, depending on your preferences. The morning sun beat down on eight worlds. The story was the same in each case. A slightly...fuzzy figure had appeared unexpectedly, breaking into the morning's routine. Female. Fairly young. Late twenties? Brownish hair. Couldn't quite make out the eye colour. Slender. Possibly attractive, but it just wasn't possible to tell at first. The natural reaction was to blame the light and move closer - who were these girls afraid of? Even on approach, the intruder just didn't conform to physical laws, the edges and details of her form blurred to oblivion.
The unknown messenger was, in all cases, blunt, albeit fairly cordial. She introduced herself as Lauviah. Most could figure out that name didn't mean anything particularly to her. She promptly continued with arguably the most fantastic query every posed in any of their lives: "How interested are you in becoming a goddess?"
The standard reaction was to dismiss her; to laugh. This tended to be the point where time would stop for no apparent reason, slipping the surrounding into cliche shades of grey. At which point the conversation would get considerably more serious. The pitch went something along these lines:
As you can tell, I possess power not of this world. And for good reason: A thousand years ago, I was elevated to the right hand of the Creator, to look down upon the multiverse, and shape it to my whim for the good of its inhabitants. However, my time grows short. Divine powers are not meant for mortal bodies. I come here to trouble you. I ask that you consider joining in the ritual of deciding who will replace me. I warn you that the road to godhood is not easy, but for those of benevolent heart, the opportunities to feel happiness are endless.
Most people went for that. Those that didn't pretended to. There is, after all, rarely a compelling reason to turn down the potential of becoming truly divine.
I agree, Rikku. I, too, am eagerly anticipating what will unfold. However, at this point, I must insist that anyone with no intention of taking part must leave immediately. Your last chance. This is, of course, patently unfair, but these are my conditions.
Nobody moved.
I am not surprised. As you were told, I am in urgent need of an assistant. I have found, through long years and many mistakes, that while I managed to set the multiverse in motion, I cannot be relied upon to keep things running in a smooth manner. For this, I have employed the aid of exemplary females, each of whom is granted power to maintain all worlds as they see fit for the next thousand years. Long ago, I have found the male species to be much too impulsive to keep everything in working order.
Yuffie broke the silence. "So we're really supposed to believe that some voice in this stu-pid darkness created everything?"
Yes. I hope I've made it clear by now that this is not a joke or elaborate ploy. It is simply reality staring you in the face. May I continue?
There was no reply from the resident psuedo-ninja.
My thanks for your patience. I ask you name your champions. They should be in attendance for what follows.
"Zidane."
"Laharl."
"Copain."
"Fayt."
"Max."
"Albel."
"Auron."
"Squall."
"Cid."
"Tidus."
As the names rolled sonorously off ten pairs of lips, the called heroes appeared sequentially in the room, nodding to their partners and others they recognized. One might have expected more confusion, but these ten had also been briefed - to a certain degree - both by 'Lauvian' and those who had chosen them. Fighting world-ending evils tends to take the edge off most situations, in any case.
Now, let me sate your anticipation. The rules of our contest:
One, all of you will be transported to a featureless plain, on which stands ten identical castles, one for each pair, overseen by three coloured moons. All the castles are capable of supporting your needs for the duration of the game.
Two, each candidate will be provided an army: A thousand unquestioning troops to carry out your orders.
Three, you and your champion are welcome to participate in battle as you wish.
Four, each enemy soldier your own forces destroy in combat will confer magical powers that can be unleashed each white moon, allowing you to destroy at whim an opponent's troops, although it will leave you fatigued.
At this point, quite a commotion had arisen. Mouths were moving silently, screams making no noise as the voice above droned on. Weapons were drawn and waved about at the voice.
Five, the game does not end until eight of you have been killed or surrendered.
Six, your death results in the instant annihilation of your companion.
Seven, surrendering allows you to preserve your own life, but your companion will still die.
Eight, enduring until only two remain exempts you from these penalities - you and your companion will be assured a blessed life.
I believe this is all you need to know. I trust we will have a splendid exhibition!
There was a soft swirl of air past through the hair of the assembled score of heroes and heroines. Forty eyes gazed down from ten parapets on ten thousand elite troops.
Chapter 2: A Solemn Oath
=======================================================================================
An empty room. Pitch black. Unknown place. Unknown time. Unknown reality.
Do you, as representative of...
"Yes."
...all life in the multiverse,...
"I do."
...knowingly and willingly...
"Yep!"
...take on the responsibilities...
"I do."
...and risks...
"I do."
...of this sacred contract...
"Of course."
...and if victorious...
"Sounds good!"
...vow to uphold the harmony...
"Yes."
...of all Creation...
"Yes."
...with the whole of your being?
"Mhmm."
Amen. So be it. Another ten for a new millenium. Stand from the darkness and be recognized. Dagger, Etna, Femme...
A series of unseen spotlights burst from the darkness, illuminating the heroines sequentially, gradually allowing each of the chosen ten to squint through the darkness to see their comrades and soon-to be-rivals.
...Maria, Monica, Nel, Rikku...
The majority of the avatars are standing now, with seven names called. They look at each other. Recognition, and the lack thereof. Tension. Notably absent is nervousness: These paragons have come too far in a short mortal life to be intimidated.
...Rinoa, Yuffie, Yuna. This is your last chance to depart in peace. Heretofore, your soul is at risk.
Nobody moved. Glances back and forth.
So be it. You have selected champions?
Partial nods of assent. Idle stretching. Rikku stepped forward. "Look, whoever-you-are-up-in-the-dark-somewhere, there's one thing we all want to know. What exactly are we stepping into here? Your messenger wasn't exactly clear with us." Soft tapping of worn boots and shoes echoed in approval. Ten minds turned to events long since past.
It was a fine day for flying. Or governing. Or scheming. Or playing. Or fighting. Or even lounging, depending on your preferences. The morning sun beat down on eight worlds. The story was the same in each case. A slightly...fuzzy figure had appeared unexpectedly, breaking into the morning's routine. Female. Fairly young. Late twenties? Brownish hair. Couldn't quite make out the eye colour. Slender. Possibly attractive, but it just wasn't possible to tell at first. The natural reaction was to blame the light and move closer - who were these girls afraid of? Even on approach, the intruder just didn't conform to physical laws, the edges and details of her form blurred to oblivion.
The unknown messenger was, in all cases, blunt, albeit fairly cordial. She introduced herself as Lauviah. Most could figure out that name didn't mean anything particularly to her. She promptly continued with arguably the most fantastic query every posed in any of their lives: "How interested are you in becoming a goddess?"
The standard reaction was to dismiss her; to laugh. This tended to be the point where time would stop for no apparent reason, slipping the surrounding into cliche shades of grey. At which point the conversation would get considerably more serious. The pitch went something along these lines:
As you can tell, I possess power not of this world. And for good reason: A thousand years ago, I was elevated to the right hand of the Creator, to look down upon the multiverse, and shape it to my whim for the good of its inhabitants. However, my time grows short. Divine powers are not meant for mortal bodies. I come here to trouble you. I ask that you consider joining in the ritual of deciding who will replace me. I warn you that the road to godhood is not easy, but for those of benevolent heart, the opportunities to feel happiness are endless.
Most people went for that. Those that didn't pretended to. There is, after all, rarely a compelling reason to turn down the potential of becoming truly divine.
I agree, Rikku. I, too, am eagerly anticipating what will unfold. However, at this point, I must insist that anyone with no intention of taking part must leave immediately. Your last chance. This is, of course, patently unfair, but these are my conditions.
Nobody moved.
I am not surprised. As you were told, I am in urgent need of an assistant. I have found, through long years and many mistakes, that while I managed to set the multiverse in motion, I cannot be relied upon to keep things running in a smooth manner. For this, I have employed the aid of exemplary females, each of whom is granted power to maintain all worlds as they see fit for the next thousand years. Long ago, I have found the male species to be much too impulsive to keep everything in working order.
Yuffie broke the silence. "So we're really supposed to believe that some voice in this stu-pid darkness created everything?"
Yes. I hope I've made it clear by now that this is not a joke or elaborate ploy. It is simply reality staring you in the face. May I continue?
There was no reply from the resident psuedo-ninja.
My thanks for your patience. I ask you name your champions. They should be in attendance for what follows.
"Zidane."
"Laharl."
"Copain."
"Fayt."
"Max."
"Albel."
"Auron."
"Squall."
"Cid."
"Tidus."
As the names rolled sonorously off ten pairs of lips, the called heroes appeared sequentially in the room, nodding to their partners and others they recognized. One might have expected more confusion, but these ten had also been briefed - to a certain degree - both by 'Lauvian' and those who had chosen them. Fighting world-ending evils tends to take the edge off most situations, in any case.
Now, let me sate your anticipation. The rules of our contest:
One, all of you will be transported to a featureless plain, on which stands ten identical castles, one for each pair, overseen by three coloured moons. All the castles are capable of supporting your needs for the duration of the game.
Two, each candidate will be provided an army: A thousand unquestioning troops to carry out your orders.
Three, you and your champion are welcome to participate in battle as you wish.
Four, each enemy soldier your own forces destroy in combat will confer magical powers that can be unleashed each white moon, allowing you to destroy at whim an opponent's troops, although it will leave you fatigued.
At this point, quite a commotion had arisen. Mouths were moving silently, screams making no noise as the voice above droned on. Weapons were drawn and waved about at the voice.
Five, the game does not end until eight of you have been killed or surrendered.
Six, your death results in the instant annihilation of your companion.
Seven, surrendering allows you to preserve your own life, but your companion will still die.
Eight, enduring until only two remain exempts you from these penalities - you and your companion will be assured a blessed life.
I believe this is all you need to know. I trust we will have a splendid exhibition!
There was a soft swirl of air past through the hair of the assembled score of heroes and heroines. Forty eyes gazed down from ten parapets on ten thousand elite troops.