The G.A.M.E.Z. Official Intergalactic Handbook: The G.A.M.E.Z. Duology

By E Darkwood

-Just when you think you know something, the G's will remind you you don't.-

Mercenaries, hitmen, assassins, death... They answer to any and all of those names. An entire race of people dedicated to the art of war, deadly with their bare hands but as adepts in magic; unstoppable. Needless to say, their services are highly coveted, for to have even a single member of The Ring under your command is to guarantee your victory.

So what does that have to do with the G's or a handbook?

Nothing!! Why would it? :)

• Language: English
• Publisher: E Darkwood
• Release date: Aug 12, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393378075

Book preview

Why do I need a handbook?

A handbook is a comprehensive work on a particular topic, it is structured for quick reference to aid all who read it; even those who would claim themselves expert practitioners of said topic.

The Greatest Artistic and Martial arts Entertainment on Zanarik is a ruthless competition that pits one team against another where only one may be the victor. Every duo that enters the arena is the best of the best, they come prepared with strategy, confidence and skill. There will be pain, there will be loss, but the rewards that come with winning outweigh every risk.

This is THE Official Ground Zero for anyone seeking to take part in that Greatest of tournaments.

Whether you are a long time league member or a first timer, this book will take you through everything you need to know. From learning what the logo means, to understanding the scoring system this is your guide to everything G.A.M.E.Z. in its latest and most updated edition.

Have not a single doubt, you need this guide. So without further preamble...

Let the handbook begin!!

Where does one get a handbook?

Why isn't there such a thing as 'a guide to surviving this exhausting thing called life'?

The answer is twofold. It's because only a select few of us would admit we need it. And for those qualified enough to write it, there's far more to lose than gain by doing so. Far too many secrets best left alone...

But you don't care about that. You're here for another reason.

Allow me to tell you a story. One that was born long, long ago on a small, or so by this galaxy’s standards, out of the way planet whose name should not be carelessly uttered, for even now those syllables invoke a price most are unwilling to pay.

Yes, everything started on that speck of a planet whose creed, is conflict.

No, that would sell it short. It is far more fitting to say that it is a place where only the strong survive. With, or without, a guide.

The Rules

The G.A.M.E.Z. strictly adhere to the following regulations:

1.- You must have a valid Zanarik license (or equivalent) to participate.

2.- You must be part of a duo to compete.

3.- Your duo must pass either The Summer or The Winter Trials to be allowed to enter.

4.- A match begins as soon as you step into the arena.

5.- Only the duo with the highest score (after the overall calculation) moves on in the tournament. The decision of which pair is named is unappealable.

6.- The match is over when a duo is unable to continue or gives up. If a duo surrenders then their score is invalidated and the opposing team automatically advances.

7.- All teams participating in a match are given a point value based on The Official Scoring System.

If a player is ever in doubt whether an action is permitted, always refer back to these seven Official Mandates.

The world is run by magic

That is the only rule.

On that harsh planet existence is a duality of survival and excellence: you must be excellent to survive, if you survive you must be excellent. There is room for nothing less.

No imperfection.

No indiscretion.

No forgiveness.

And particularly, no doubt.

SPIT!!!

I allow myself a private grimace before I compose my features and face the caller.

Yes sir? I humbly inquire.

Your assignment's in, get a move on! He demands as he throws a thick envelope in my direction.

Thank you sir. I reply with due deference though I make no move other than to catch it.

He however takes no notice, for his message is delivered—he left seconds after he no longer had the letter. No time for jeering? I think to myself as I look down to study the outside of the envelope for any additional clues.

Westminstros? ... a colony?... Huh.

I open the missive and read the entirety of the contents before I consider one conclusion as confirmed.

He won't mock me about the permanent placement—not even for the post's minor classification—due to it being a royal service.

I tap my chin pensively at that observation and quickly open up a starchart inputting my assignment number then scrolling until I locate the capital city of Westminstros, in the Yar region.

Ah.

I close the starchart.

One last jab—sending me to serve those born with absolutely no magic. But no need to outwardly mock when I am sent to a place so far away it's only barely part of this galaxy.

I fold the papers back into their original state and place them in the front of my bag, then I return to the resting position I'd taken on my bed.

Westminstros. I repeat to myself in a measuring tone.

I'd expected nothing less than an out of the way assignment, even a permanent one is not so surprising, because what else were they to do with me? But, no magic...

From the time I first entered The Ring the instructors where determined to have me gone. How dare I put a stain on the warrior-mages with my deviant existence? Unacceptable. Never mind that I had no choice in the matter...

Whether I burned out, imploded on my own magic or was killed by a classmate, it made no difference to them. I may be nature's bad joke, but that did not mean they would neglect their duty to rectify it.

Yet after years of beating me into the ground, the worst they ever managed is still this. I comment as I lift a hand and run it along the prominent scar that —thanks to a combination of a serrated edge and young reflexes— intermittently runs diagonally from the bottom of my nose to just above my shoulder.

My only scar.

However one is all it takes to brand you for life as the singular disgraced student who couldn't guard himself properly. One is all it takes to open the floodgates. 'Spit', 'Scar', 'Slow', 'go end yourself', 'you don't belong'... All synonymous for the same thing.

Failure.

I set my hand back down and look towards my bag. Just a little more and I can leave all this behind.

A sardonic lift comes to my lips.

"I have a question for you sir."

How do you thrive in an environment that doesn't want you? I whisper as the door opens again.

What's that? You can't hear me? No, don't say it's because you've left—but I'll accept 'you never had ears'.

I chuckle to myself as one of the other occupants of this room enters. He doesn't spare me more than a contempt-filled glance. And his complete ignorance over the reason of my —seemingly unhinged—