Episode 3: Vice President As the minions began to clash at the center of the map, Malcolm’s avatar moved with calculated precision, attacking each enemy minion. With no enemy hero in sight, Malcolm's wave quickly gained the upper hand, advancing toward the enemy turret. This first wave taught Malcolm valuable lessons: he only earned gold by landing the last hit on minions, and turrets dealt immense damage. "That's why they have the minions," Malcolm acknowledged to himself. "So you can attack the turrets safely." “Hey, is there a way to instantly go back to base?” Malcolm asked. “Did you not listen to the tutorial? Press B to recall!” Wendy scolded, her tone resembling that of an exasperated parent explaining how to use a microwave for the fifteenth time. “Ah, thanks,” Malcolm said, pressing B. His character began recalling back to base, and Malcolm discovered that any action would cancel the recall, resetting the process. "Good to know," he muttered as his character made it back safely. The whole experience was enlightening for Malcolm. This might actually be fun, he thought. “Alright, I trust by now, you’ve all finished the tutorial?” the teacher asked, sounding like she was about to hand out a pop quiz on the history of shoelaces. A wave of murmurs and general agreement swept through the room. “Well then! Be prepared, because tomorrow, the tournament begins.” Usually, Malcolm's mind was occupied with only a few things: school, anime, light novels, food, sleep (and lack thereof), RTS games, and chores. But tonight, his thoughts were consumed by something new. Militia. “That game… was fun,” Malcolm admitted to himself, begrudgingly. It was different from the first-person shooters his friends typically enjoyed, yet it wasn’t exactly like his RTS games either. It was something new, demanding different strategies and tactics. Malcolm was sure some of his RTS techniques would apply seamlessly here, but others would be like playing soccer with a chessboard. “Maybe this game won’t be so lonely,” Malcolm thought, before immediately cringing at how cheesy that sounded. His phone pinged with a notification. Malcolm checked it and groaned. “How annoying,” he muttered, tossing his phone aside and throwing himself into bed, dramatically flinging one arm over his face like a swooning Victorian lady. The next day, teams gathered in the cafeteria. “William, Raylia, Wendy… Where’s Malcolm?” Jacob asked, looking around at his teammates like a general whose troops had deserted him. “Malcolm? Oh, he’s busy, but he’ll be playing with us,” William said nervously. “What? He just ditched us like that?” Wendy demanded, her voice rising in pitch with each word. “Well, I wouldn’t say ditched…” William's eyes flicked to the stage. The student council sat on the stage, preparing for a speech. Marley, the reliable president, stood with the mysterious vice president, whose identity everyone had forgotten due to their perpetual hoodie, the secretary Henry, and the treasurer Kim. As Marley stepped up to the podium, she began her speech. But Jacob couldn’t hear it; he was too worried about Malcolm's whereabouts. Meanwhile, Malcolm sat in a hoodie in the vice president’s seat. Why? The reason was simple: he was the vice president. Malcolm knew everyone had forgotten this fact, but he didn’t really care. He had only applied at Marley’s request. “Plus, Marley would be hopeless without my speeches,” Malcolm thought, rolling his eyes. “And so, let the games begin!” Marley shouted with a grin that suggested she was about to announce the start of a gladiatorial combat. As the crowd dispersed, Marley turned to Malcolm with a raised eyebrow. “Let the games begin? Really?” “I’ve been wanting to write something that said that,” Malcolm replied. Marley smirked. “Well, at least it didn’t have any complicated words that I couldn’t pronounce.” “I dumbed it down for you,” Malcolm said with a shrug. “Dumbed it down? You brat!” Marley said, putting Malcolm in a playful chokehold. “I hate to interrupt a good time—” Henry started. “That’s a lie,” the rest of the student council said in unison. “—but it seems our teams are waiting for us,” Henry finished, frowning as if they'd just insulted his favorite kind of cheese. Malcolm turned to see three teams waiting. Raylia and Wendy were trying to drag Jacob out while William attempted to keep them in. “Hey,” Malcolm said, approaching them. They stared at him in disbelief. “Malcolm? Y-you’re vice president?” Raylia asked. Malcolm nodded. Jacob broke into a huge grin. “That’s awesome, dude! No wonder you’re so smart!” “You are way too optimistic,” Malcolm thought as he said, “Yeah, yeah. Isn’t our first game right now?” Jacob nodded. “Oh, you’re right! I totally forgot! Let’s go!”
Next: Previous: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/1030403521/ Beginning: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/1030067578/ I'd like to thank DarkClaymore, who wrote this amazing piece of art, Classmancers. This was based off of it, heavily, though it's more of a how Tolkien inspired Robert Jordan type of situation. Nonetheless, similarities should be expected from the start. I highly recommend you read Classmancers before reading Militia, cause I love it, and you will too. https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/17266/classmancers-a-moba-esport-story