Though many games in the cluster turned their attention inward, or sideward, wherever it was those rascally spinoffs showed up, the great pan-ludic assemblies still demanded attention. Some might say it was the upper chamber members who demanded it so as to preserve their unwarranted status, and those people might write the same thing in their columns week after week, but regardless. Modern Incidence Record hosted the latest session in a lovely park complete with benches, trimmed trees, and a shadow cast by the sinister Armeau Building. That particular vertical dungeon, or vungeon, had its menacing facade covered by a gigantic vertical banner advertising Cadmos and his chart-topping album, the chart in question being the one AGN maintained. At last, the entire cluster had the chance to spend an hour under Cadmos's benevolent gaze. Inspiring.

“Any vote today will serve as a trial but will be no less binding for that. I am sure you will agree that every vote is a trial, though what is being tested sometimes eludes our understanding.” Regent set the agenda as the Modern Incidence Record representative. He held out a pixelly hand to pat a squat piece of machinery covered in scopes and warning lights. “This automatic vote-counting machine Dr. Golovkin handsomely donated to the assembly will read your votes whether we opt for the hands-up or stand-here method using its infrared, ultraviolet, spiritual, and psionic scanners. Do you understand? The wise man will say no.”

The gathered characters understood so well that that most preferred not to listen to Regent unless something important happened, which seemed unlikely when a philosopher who insisted on the inherent triviality of endeavor ran things. Meanwhile, a more personable local in the rear urged them to take action.

“Come, who will free the beautiful countenance of our homeland from its blemish? All that stops you is a flaw in your aesthetics, perhaps some humility or, worthier of you, a yearning for punishment. But I urge you to desist for today! Tomorrow you may once again don convention as your armor against your own sword, forged from your inclinations, that is ever poised with its tip against your own social position.” Frossard's speech struck the crowd's fancy more than Regent's, though some among them questioned his claims about what factors in truth prevented an attack on Cadmos.

“It's awful high,” melee specialist Harry of Milk Village of Paradise the Enchant observed.

“It is. I think that dragons are quite high as well. Let us leave aside what it is they symbolize. Leave it aside! For there is nothing they do not symbolize, should the spectator wish it. Back in the physical realm, we have all seen slayers jump atop those signifiers and bring them crashing down, not as a metaphor but as a fact recorded by men wearing glasses and sensible shoes.”

The attendees from Slay Every Dragon looked smug, but none moved to cut down the banner till Wruden Calx began to suggest that they were incapable of the deed for all their practice. “Check this out,” one yelled, whereupon the whole bunch of slayers ran toward and then straight up the side of the building as if a guest star would peek out one of the windows, sliced the ad down, and backflipped off the wall for a stylish finish fearlessly attempted by anyone who looked up whether Modern Incidence Record had fall damage beforehand, or by anyone who realized at the last second that researching those sorts of mechanics beforehand might have been advisable.

Frossard watched Cadmos flutter in the wind and fall, soon to oppress all the world with garish marketing. His genius brain calculated the timing. At the right moment, he made a sign toward the front. Metatron's waiting eyes caught it. He set the vote machine to hands-up mode and, as soon as Regent paused for breath in the middle of a discourse about stepping on the same mine twice or something, spoke.

“A trial. I move that the limit on UTAS ownership be altered to this. Each character is permitted to maintain UTASes in his own image to a limit of five. No more than one may be present in any game outside the character's home game without the permission of a minister. All extraordinary privileges granted to Construction regarding UTASes are rescinded. Raise both hands to be registered as an affirmative vote. Curl up into a ball to be registered as a negative vote.”

Right as he said “vote” for the second time, the banner descended on the assembly like a blanket over the fire of liberty. Characters threw up their hands to stave off the stifling influence and by that reflex gave Metatron the result he wanted. Dr. Golovkin's invention activated its unethical x-ray scope, counted up the votes, and came up with one against, everybody else in favor. Acoustic performances terrified somebody out there, apparently. Next, the assembly debated restrictions on the size of advertising banners. The participants voted in the end only to recommend they be much bigger rather than mandating such.

“I was talking to another Fieldstuber about who we would cast if they made a Fields of Steam live action movie. Not that they will, but I think it would be cool. One problem that there is with game spinoffs sometimes is that it seems like it takes attention away from the main game. Some of these games, CoH, SED, can you really say you're happy with what's going on, the pace of updates and all, if you're not interested in these side games? I like how Fields is going though, and first off in my official 3brasshands wish list, uh, is R****** C**** still working? He was great in M***** a** C********, and I'd love to see that same gravitas brought over from real ships to airships. Second . . .”

“Hey, is anyone out of the loop?” Society Page Lasva hustled around the spaceport in Perandra Regna's western forest.

“Always,” Boxer Andit said. “You out to interview a behind-the-times kinda guy?”

“Nope! Catch!” A newspaper hot off the presses smacked Andit right in his smiling puss.

“Yeowch! That's hot!” He ran off to bury his face in the nearest lake while other officers and offworlders gathered to get all the latest info they could without touching the thing.

Lurdden Casguir picked it up with deft tongs and began to read. “A new Trial has been announced,” he summarized for the sake of the audience. “One G Murrynur is the enemy, Vanguard the set, and the farmable Super Rare, a centaur named Pocket Button. Simultaneously, to please one sort of farmer without neglecting the other, Part 3 Chapter 1 will be added to Vigilant Patrol. Players may find it to be more difficult than Part 2's stages. Should that not be the expected situation? Oh, I apologize That last question was my own commentary, not something found within the article.”

“Amazing! What I love most about Lasva is the great news she tells us! What I hate about her is everything else!”

Society Page Lasva immediately got to work on her next story. It would be an exposé on the foibles of everyone who badmouthed her, starting with whoever that was.

“I'm Talixia from Always Leveling Titan by the way!”

“Aha! Another scoop!” Lasva returned to write up her story, though AGN refused to run it on the basis that Ababa and Babab held exclusivity over the ALT beat. Everyone else concentrated on the news of the day and its ramifications.

Everyone? Some people. Lots of them. Officers made plans for intense farming, their other duties permitting and subject to change in case they were picked for Commandment of Hero: Ersatz Struggle. Teams formed up beforehand based upon the most reliable intelligence, which was pretty reliable, since Part 3 Chapter 1 had been out for months.

“Sure, they'll swap out the named bosses for understudies, but that's mostly cosmetic.”

Fusberta flapped her crackling wings of potent lightning. “We won't fight ourselves? I'm not sure if that's a relief or a disappointment.”

“Relief in the long run, I'd say,” Flawless Pedigree did in fact say. “Fights against your doppelganger are a fun gimmick, but doing it over and over, well.”

“True. Imagine if I had to battle myself nonstop. I'd lose half the time.” Ozric Orn Pallad took a few pokes at the air. He refrained from bragging about being a boss in Part 3 Chapter 1, but did he really?

That particular discussion was a Team New Blood internal matter, but elsewhere, the seeds of conflict had been sowed and watered, maybe given some supplement you can buy in stores after a certain point either as a result of natural time progression or through some sort of unlock, like maybe if you shipped 50 radishes. Could old fellowships survive the fractures caused by backing different spinoff characters?

“I dunno what drops there, and I don't care. I went through all that in groups players like, and now I'm doing it my way, get me? Beans, Surfs, borrow calendars from somewhere and clear them.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

“Already cleared, boss.”

Yes. That is the answer to the question back there a ways. It may have seemed rhetorical or perhaps ominous at the time it was posed, but things turned out otherwise.