Project Battle Royale: A Gamelit Survival Book

by L. S. Halloway

  “Yeah, you did, and now this other duo’s waiting for us and we’ve got nowhere to go.”

  “You sure they’re in front of us?”

  “Only thing I’m sure of is that we’re screwed.” He was poised, gun resting on the rock, looking for any signs of movement in front of us. I flipped around and looked behind us.

  “They couldn’t be shooting at us from in front. These guys are still in the Blue.”

  It was either luck or careful, strategic planning and game sense that caused Goemon and I to end up where we did. Obviously I would say the latter, but there was no time to think too deeply about it. I scanned the terrain behind us. A muzzle flashed bright through the haze of the approaching Blue menace. The perpetrator was leaned around the trunk of a tree, trying to make it so he would be a harder target to hit. He was successful on that front- it was tough to see anything other than his head and the barrel. Even with us out in the open, though, he only landed a shot or two to my vest.

  “Behind us!” I called out. Then I remembered that Goemon hated that callout because it wasn’t direct enough. “West, north west, kinda.”

  Even though the majority of our adversary was hidden behind a tree, the part of him that was sticking out became that much easier to focus on. Goemon spun around and aimed and we both fired on cue. I hit him for sure, but Goemon’s AK delivered the final blow. The player fell to the ground, limp, and a loot crate appeared alongside him. The instant death meant he was a solo- a solo player does not end up in the downed phase, because there is no teammate to pick him up. No second chances if you have no teammate. That meant his partner was already long out of the round.

  “Nice shot,” I said.

  “That guy was not very good,” Goemon reloaded his AK with a fresh magazine, even though he only spent a few bullets.

  “No, he wasn’t, but he still got destroyed. Let’s go loot him.”

  “Ah, I don’t think we have enough time...we still have to get away from this Blue.”

  “But...it’s like you just reeled in a trophy fish, and you’re cutting the line.”

  “You’re ridiculous. If we go loot that dude, we’ll never make it back out. It doesn’t matter what we find, because we’ll be dead before we even get a chance to equip it.”

  As much as it pained me to leave that loot, especially when it was so close, I knew he was right. Even I wasn’t reckless enough to charge headlong back into the boiling Blue sea just for some mystery rifle. Despite how the game sometimes played out, the entire goal of Project Battle Royale was to survive. The best gun in the game did nothing to stop you from drowning. I was just happy to be out of the first phase. We were off to a better start than we had been in weeks.

  6

  Resort

  Last Week

  Jungle Island rounds started off a bit different than the other maps. To be clear, the drop phase is the official start of a round no matter where you are. Once you take your seat in the cargo plane the only way off is with a parachute out the back. But technically the beginning starts a few minutes before the plane ride.

  Players have to connect to the server first, and there has to be enough players in the server to even make it worth getting the plane off the ground. People from all over the world might end up in the same server and the same round. For this reason, PBR implemented a sort of interactive waiting room. Jungle Island featured a five star resort masquerading as such a room. What made it five stars? I don’t actually know because I’ve never been to a five star resort but I can assume that this place was top of the line.

  A floating poolside cantina bar marked the center of the resort. Lounge chairs surrounded it on each side in stadium-style rows. Then there was the pool, carved out of green stone like the rest of the entire place. It’s possible the devs reused some assets from the Ancient Ruins to design the resort, but you had to hand it to them, the place was relaxing.

  Activities included lounging on the copious reclined chairs, swimming in the fountain, or climbing on top of the hotel rooftop and launching into the pool. Everyone started with thirty apples in their inventory to throw at each other, but apple fights here were less about face contact and more who could throw the farthest. For whatever reason, players just seemed more at ease and less confrontational at the resort waiting room. You could even have an actual, decent conversation, something unheard of everywhere else in the entire game.

  A man in a trench coat, hood, and bandana mask approached us in the pool. It was hands down the second worst pool party outfit I had ever seen, the first being when I had to borrow my dad’s ancient parachute sized swim trunks and I got laughed off the beach a few summers ago. Anyways, in any other situation this random player would have thrown an apple in my face or insulted my discount store high tops. But, he did not yell, he did not quarrel, he did not demean. Instead, he talked.

  “How was your day?” he asked. Such a simple, yet meaningful, and uncommon question.

  “Uh, pretty good,” I answered. “How was yours?”

  “Good, brother, thanks a lot for asking. I just ate a monster burrito.”

  “What kind? Carnitas? Al pastor?” Goemon asked.

  “Carne asada.”

  “Ah, a classic.”

  “Sometimes it’s nice to not have to think about it, you know?” the stranger, or Sniffles, according to his name in the chat, said.

  “That’s true. Can’t go wrong with carne asada,” I said.

  “But why not a California burrito?” Goemon asked.

  “Oh, bro, I’ve heard of California burritos. But we don’t have them up here,” Sniffles said.

  “Bummer. Where you at?”

  “Washington. But that’s OK, bro. I got my vape filled, got a cold drink. Life is good.”

  “You know, life is good,” I added.

  “Hey, good luck have fun bro,” Sniffles said.

  The final seconds of the round commencement timer ticked down. I thought about Sniffles and our lovely, positive interaction. These were people, real people, with dreams and wants and loves. They were not just targets in body armor, game for the hunting. I was more, too. Yeah, we had been on one heck of a losing streak. In fact, I could not remember the last time I got a decent frag. Maybe none of that mattered. At least, that was what the resort would massage into my brain.

  Unfortunately, the resort was a stark contrast to the design of the rest of the map. See, Jungle Island is the smallest of the PBR maps. There was a bit of player backlash at the sheer size and emptiness of Desert Island, and the developers listened. Again they used a Para to swat a fly in their attempt at making positive changes, but technically it was a solution to the problem of “too big.”

  Using the First Island map as a reference point, they created something intended to be small and frantic, with no real empty sections of the map and no safety zones. The original map got chopped up in half and half again, then trimmed up and placed in something reminiscent of Southeast Asian jungle. Hence, the name Jungle Island- a tiny, deadly, and beautiful square.

  This go around, we had entered the waiting room late. I had yet to get my fill of the resort’s amenities. I had dreams of dropping there and becoming king of the hill. Then Goemon and I could relax poolside, sidle up to the bar and bask in the glory of all the loot and the majestic stone statues.

  “Let’s drop at The Resort,” I told him.

  “That place is a deathtrap,” he responded.

  “No, it’s OK, I figured it out.”

  “Oh no.”

  “Come on, we never drop there anymore.”

  “For good reason. But fine.”

  As soon as the plane took off, the piercing rumble of the motor pushed any sense of calmness or peace out of my mind. Maybe that was why they made the noise so annoying. It was designed to amp you up, shake you loose from the shackles of some faux relaxation. This was not a pleasure cruise. This was war, apparently.

  We leapt out of the back of the cargo drop plane as it crossed the resort. Ap
proximately fifty other players did, too. It was more than I had expected, but my plan could still work. We would parachute just outside the wall, and sneak into one of the rooms through a window. There, we could hole up while the riffraff sorted itself out a bit. I explained the plan to Goemon.

  “Good plan,” he said, deadpan.

  “Is it? I can’t tell if you’re being serious.”

  “I think it could work.”

  Our drop timing placed us squarely in the middle of the pack. Could have been better, could have been worse. But the plan could still work. I steered my parachute towards the southwestern side of a corner wall, and I assumed Goemon would follow suit. When I landed he was nowhere to be found.

  “Dude I thought you were following me,” I said.

  “I thought I was.”

  “Are you on the other side of the wall?”

  “I guess so. Uh oh, there’s someone here. He’s coming after me. He’s got this crazy look in his eye.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  Not like I had a weapon to bail him out with, but I figured four fists were better than two. I sprinted alongside the wall. The turn was about fifteen feet in front of me. Then, I heard someone familiar shout to my left.

  “Where you running to, bro,” the voice called. It was dark and sinister. I looked ahead, to my left. A figure emerged from behind a dense patch of ferns and blocked my path. My heart sank. It was Sniffles. I noticed for the first time the fingerless gloves on his hands.

  “I uh,” I stumbled. “Goemon, I need your help!”

  “Busy over here. This guy’s trying to punch me to death. Ow, he punched me.”

  “Oh, what have we here,” Sniffles said. A machete materialized in his gloved hand. He must have picked it up in the shrubbery, equipping it now for dramatic effect. It worked. I was scared.

  “Easy, Sniffles. Remember what we had,” I said.

  “I’m here for one reason, bro. Killing you. And taking what you have.”

  “But what about our conversation?” I said, running backwards. I could not face him, not with just my bare fists. “Also, I don’t have anything for you to take. Also, that’s two reasons.”

  “One reason, bro,” Sniffles said as he took a swing with the machete. It clinked against the stone wall. “Slice you up. Now get back here.”

  As I sprinted away from the immediate danger, a new threat behind me destroyed my escape route. Gunshots rang out. They were small caliber by the sound of it, but big enough to cut through my t-shirt just fine. The shooter had yet to notice me, instead working on someone else nearby. But it was only a matter of time.

  “I punched him back!” Goemon yelled. “Oh, he’s trying to do the super punch. Get away from me. Get back!”

  Alright, I thought. Goemon was not going to run away. I had to stay and fight, too. Besides, I had forgotten about the super punch. It was some weird mechanic they included where if you got a running start and jumped into a punch it was an instant KO. I had never seen anyone land a punch like that in real life and in fact I had never landed one in PBR, either.

  “OK, bro-chacho,” I said. It sounded even worse out loud. “Let’s dance.”

  I charged at Sniffles. He ran at me. I would need perfect timing to leap and punch before getting chopped in half.

  “How many times do you have to punch someone,” Goemon said.

  “Just...once!” I shouted as I launched off my back foot and into the air. I flung my fist forward a millisecond before Sniffles began his swing of the machete. It was all I needed. While the weapon was raised over his head, I connected with a solid right hook to the jaw. Sniffles went down.

  “Uh oh, it’s not looking good. One more and I’m done,” Goemon said. I just needed him to hold on one more minute while I grabbed the machete.

  “Ah, bro, not cool,” Sniffles said. Unfortunately, I could not commandeer his weapon until I knocked him out permanently. So I began to wail on him with my fists, like a primal great ape, lost in a rage in the middle of the jungle. It was a far cry from the dreams of the resort but cathartic in its own messed up way. The guy did try and kill me first, after all.

  I never got the chance to finish the job. The pistoleer trailing behind me had gotten his first frag, and I turned out to be his second. I never even found out if he was the other half of Sniffles’ duo. It did not matter either way, because the round was over.

  7

  The Ruins

  The Blue Wall of Death slumbered once again, and phase two of the round had officially begun. True, it was only a matter of time before the Blue woke back up. However, making it into the relative safe zone of the Circle put my mind at ease for the immediate future. All I needed to do was heal.

  With no town close enough to provide us cover, we used the tall grass and the perimeter of the Blue Death as a substitute. It would be near impossible for anyone to sneak up behind us. If they were still in the death zone, they would not have the time to be quiet and we would hear them running from a mile away. In front of us we could see in nearly every direction, so all in all it felt like a safe enough spot to take a breather. I pulled out the first aid kit and went to work.

  “Not bad for the first phase,” I said. I could see Goemon scanning the horizon. He refused to relax. “You ever think maybe we should be out there?”

  “Out where?” he asked.

  “Outside. Trying to sneak into, you know, parties and stuff. You know. IRL.”

  Goemon turned to look at me. The avatar of his face failed to register any emotion whatsoever. It was enough of an answer.

  “Yeah, me neither,” I said.

  Despite the claim, we both thought about it sometimes. It was like another world out there, and one we had no desire to be a part of. So we sought refuge within the boundaries of the world of PBR. The game provided its own version of social interaction, as strange as it might be. But it’s not like social interaction was normal at a house party or the Irish pub next door to our cyber cafe. The only thing we lacked was girls, but even we managed to meet some in the game just a couple towns over. I kept more than a sliver of hope alive that we would see them again.

  PBR was not so straightforward itself. The game world hid a sordid history both in its depths and in plain sight. With no single player or story mode, players could only speculate about the history of the island maps. The environment of First Island read mostly Eastern bloc warzone. After all, guns, ammo, and military-grade body armor littered the place. Most of the architecture represented itself with the sort of industrial sameness that could only come from Communist urban progress. To be fair, neither Goemon nor I had seen much IRL outside of the tri-state area, so even that guess might not be the most accurate.

  On top of that, the game did not exactly strive for unflinching realism. Sure, the guns shot mostly like real guns when the lag was OK. But flashy outfits, flat-billed hats, and leopard-print rifle sweaters known as skins had become a cash cow feature for the game. The result was players running around in matching tracksuits or purple parachute pants donning hot pink shotguns. It really took away from the grim atmosphere. But if it wasn’t really a warzone or a party palace, then what was it? Perhaps it was somewhere in between. Maybe without the graphic tees and cutoff shorts, the First Island PBR map might have the feel of an evacuated island, one ravaged by some highly contagious disease or zombie outbreak. And the island held secrets.

  One of those secrets was broken into pieces half buried and spread throughout the field in front of us. The Ancient Ruins were enough to leave any player speechless upon seeing them for the first time, even in their decayed state. A perimeter of massive columns protruded from the ground at all angles like the bones of a broken ribcage. Great stone carvings filled the interior alongside the remnants of an archaeological outpost. It also held enough guns and ammunition to take down any would-be tomb raider.

  “What do you think archaeologists need AK47s for?” I thought out loud. “Just what kind of archaeology is this?”
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br />   “I don’t know, man,” Goemon laughed, “Don’t you think the devs just put this stuff in here to mix up the terrain?”

  “How can you call these ancient ruins stuff? Where’s your imagination? Your sense of adventure?”

  “They’re busy. We’ve got a round to win.”

  “Fine, but I’m just saying, I think the Ruins are clearly part of a bigger backstory.”

  “Hold up here,” Goemon put a stop to our conversation and dropped into the tall grass. I followed suit. “Let’s see if there’s anyone inside.”

  We lacked the magnified scopes for a proper reconnaissance mission. However, the Ancient Ruins lacked any buildings to hide in which made spotting any foot traffic much easier. Plus, everything in those ruins shared the same sandy coloring. If a duo wearing some outlandish gear lurked within, we would know about it.

  “See anything?” Goemon asked, his voice just barely above the wind.

  “Nothing…wait. I saw movement.”

  “Movement?”

  “Yeah, like a person. Or maybe just a leafy branch. It was only a second.”

  “Usually it’s not a leafy branch.”

  “Well I’m not sure. You know how this game is.” The game was partially responsible. My nerves took the rest of the blame. A twitching tree or a flapping bird out of the corner of your eye could drive you insane if tensions were high enough. And PBR always made sure tension was high enough.

  This time it was not a leaf. I saw more movement out of the corner of my eye and snapped my focus to it. The silhouette stood out against the rock faces like blood in the snow. That meant at least one person had beat us to the Ruins. Judging by the guy’s casual demeanor, his friend was probably close by. But we had the drop on them.

  “There!” I called out.

  “There where? Where is there?” Goemon asked.

  “Uh. 60. You see him?”

  “Oh I see him.”

  “Good, cause I'm gonna take the shot,” I said.