Turned Game Novels & Stories

He cleared his throat and said, "Nothing. I said you're so mean. Message me when you get back, okay? I bought a new X-box game today and I want to try it with you." "Why me?" feeling confused. "Because!" he whined, "it's the only that I wouldn't taint my record, stupid! I'm pretty sure I'd win against you! So come back immediately! I've been itching to play!" Yet again, I lose against myself and Blake. Whatever happened to "stopping the fall"? Instead, I'm like pushing myself to the edge of the cliff. "Okay! I'll message you when I get back. Now, I gotta go, cause I feel like vomiting. Bye!" I ended the call. I closed my eyes for a little bit, took a deep breath, and ran towards the bathroom

I wanted to wipe that smug look off his face so badly, and if I couldn't do it, then at least Perez would. Miguel glanced at Perez after a minute, and growled; “Need I remind you that you have to play?” Perez laughed. He had two cards in hand, and my prayer was whatever card he dropped would be a turnover for Miguel. He couldn't win again. Perez dropped seven spades, “Your turn,” he announced. Miguel glanced from me to Perez and back before dropping his last card on the table. Fuck! Three spades.

I tried again. *Miss* Ryker was already laughing. “Leo—” “Quiet.” I narrowed my eyes at the board. Calculated again. Threw. *Miss* I lowered my hand slowly. “This game is rigged.” Ryker laughed harder. “It’s not rigged, you just suck.” “I don’t suck.” “You missed four times.” “That’s because it’s rigged.” He stepped forward, still smiling. “Move.” I handed him a dart, unimpressed. “Go on, then.”

He called, and Myra already felt buzzed enough to feel energized and enthusiastic about the game, and Jorah was up for it too. Draven had a calm, quiet gaze set on Myra, and when she saw how pleased she seemed to be with the game, he nodded too. “I didn’t consent to this, you fuckers,” Enzo cursed as Jorah bit back a smile while Tarrin laughed loud and heavy, his head swinging back, and just like that, the game had begun. Tarin started by spinning the bottle, which landed on Navori. She grabbed it, and Tarrin smiled mischievously.

I had once stood in front of a travel program and quietly said that I wanted to see those places when I grew up. Several months later, Mother returned and contacted a child advocacy organization. Hundreds of thousands of people watched when the livestream began. Mother sat before the camera after her hair had gone mostly white. The empty wooden box rested on the table in front of her. For the first time, she told the world the truth about the black and gold stick game.

Full. I walked out of the room, the gold pulsing in my veins, ready to burn the world down. The game had changed. The players had changed. But the war? The war was just getting started.

Bryan’s pov The minute my father called for a “game to strengthen bonds,” I knew he was about to humiliate somebody. Probably me. He waved his hand, and the servants brought in a long oak table draped in black velvet. Scrolls. Tokens. Detailed war maps painted on parchment. It looked like a political battlefield—and it was. He called it “Alliance or Ambush.” Rules were simple: Draw a scroll. Read the scenario. Make a move. Each decision earned or lost points.

There is no way. She looked at his face, hoping to find anything that will help her. His face was cold, stern. Green eyes were focused on the cards; nothing else mattered. Only the cards and the win... in his eyes there was something that reminded her of a tiger. He took only one card from his hand, and placed it on the unit field. Her mouth opened wide, the card was a vampire. With only one card he has defeated her, a seasoned Gamer player. The cards one by one fell from her hand onto the table. He lowered his hand, then, she found out that all of his cards were different elements; fire was nowhere to be seen.

He pressed the accelerator, and the car surged forward silently. A smile crept onto his face. The game hadn't just changed his bank account. It had rewritten the rules of his reality. He wasn't a rat scurrying in the shadows anymore. He was a wolf driving a tank. 23:00 HOURS. THE TIER 2 LOBBY. "Shotgun! I call shotgun!"

“Heh… So, war again? Or are you, as always, arrogantly convinced that I’ll still lose to you?” *]:pointer-events-auto scroll-mt-(--header-height)" dir="auto" data-turn-id="f280b83a-869a-4bba-82f2-54136b960439" data-testid="conversation-turn-673" data-scroll-anchor="false" data-turn="user">