In that case, anyway. But what about Team Evergreen? There, where Minsies of the Waves, Rhizis Apron, and Generals Wakve always observed invitational etiquette, some felt hesitation as to their commitments. Sibyl, for instance, seemed likely to end up farming the new Trial under player direction while her UTAS waited in her office for a wad of cash with a problem to walk in the room, or even the other way around if she felt like taking a case. More destructively to the entire enterprise around which Team Evergreen revolved, however, was that Gaelvry Beruvo had something on her mind.

Evidence for that included the intensity of her pacing, the frequency of her window-looking-outing, and the time she said she had something on her mind. True Beryllia interrupted her, though. “As always, all you and your sister have to do is train together for this Ersatz Struggle thing to work out. So do that. That's two out of five group slots. I don't expect to be in the other three or care if I'm not.”

“Right. Yes. I didn't think it wasn't like that, more or less, but you know how sometimes people don't even know their own mind. How they'll react to new developments.”

Newlywed Quircy pointed at Gaelvry, who may have glanced at her a few times. “I prefer to call it flexibility. Sometimes you don't know a game exists, then you invade it, and then it belongs to you. Naturally, you'll treat Magical Menagerie differently during each of those three stages. What I'm saying is that you were right to seek confirmation, but I still agree with True Beryllia.” As did the other members. Did any officers fall out over rivalries and hatreds incited by the spinoff, authentic struggles caused by an ersatz one?

“I'll never turn my back on Duelist Theena by reuniting with my old bandmate,” Serdon Miloz stated.

“Question!” Fresh from her latest disappointment and eager for that reliable page-filler, celebrity gossip, Society Page Lasva readied her pencil. “What percentage of the population do you think would ever believe that's your reason for snubbing Cloton Zvolo?”

“Maybe Cadmos. What percentage is that? I'll just say it's zero, since that gets you a simpler quote. Helping out reporters is a hobby of mine.” He winked. Lasva was too busy writing to see it, but then again, he was winking at the bystanders anyway.

The hope of gain and novelty overcame all in Commandment of Hero. Perhaps that inclination, possessed as well by Furious Galaxy and Convergence/Divergence, contributed to the mastery of those three games over others in the cluster, or perhaps the unreasonable size of their casts as revealed by the horde that turned out for the first day of expanded Vigilant Patrol had more to do with it. An effect may have more than one cause, but this time it was definitely the second one. The adamant walls, blacker even than the night around them, groaned under the weight of officers prepared to hop into the mode as soon as maintenance ended.

“Should I give a speech?” Cadmos asked his group of Aerywe Beruvo, Gaelvry also Beruvo, Hemt T. Elf, and charity case Ulrik. “You're going to say no, but please pretend to think about it first.”

Hemt rested his chin on his index finger, Ulrik took off his swirly glasses to wipe them, Gaelvry leaned back and crossed her arms, and Aerywe closed her eyes. Officers all around pointed and whispered. “They're actually doing it!”

“Politeness doesn't cost a thing. Except your dignity. That's reason enough for me not to do it.”

“It's not about dignity, courtesy, or whether Cadmos is worth listening to, which he sometimes is. It's about tradition.”

At least Cadmos appreciated the gesture. “I appreciate the gesture, everybody,” he said appreciatively regarding the gesture. “I'll pass on the speech and just shout a battle cry instead. Tellus stellaeque!”

He timed that for the very moment day broke, the showoff. The force mustered on the walls popped out of sight five by five as officers navigated the menu and sent themselves to the centaur-ruled country of Kiffness, home of Dasher Chris and also Dasher Christmas, Waltzing Matilda plus Waltzing Rudolph, Flawless Pedigree, and the much less horsey Marileanna.

“Were any of them included in the story?” Gaelvry asked Cadmos.

“They weren't, Gaelvry.”

“Oh. Hey Aerywe, do you think we should get them a gift basket, or would they take that the wrong way?”

“I doubt they would understand the reason for the gesture at all. Do so by all means if you wish to induce paranoia. Ah, is that the first enemy?”

Rowdy Kiffnessers and Festive Kiffnessers clogged the route. Usually enemies clogged the roads, but centaurs insisted roads were for losers. The three Ultra Rares moved to confront the unruly loot dispensers, and both the Super Rare and woefully non-super Rare followed after they wrote down that bit about how to induce paranoia for later use.

“Challenge Blade!”

“Royal Imprimatur!”

“Beruvian Earthworks!”

“Christmas Lash!”

“Aaaaah!”

The perfidious centaurs who dared be alive when a main character rolled through town died without imposing any of that increased difficulty promised by the newspaper so far as four of the five officers noticed. The HP of the last one detected a bit of a change, a slight difference, a loss of 99% in the first battle, but any fight you can flee and wait for your teammates to win is a good one. Ulrik decided to adopt that as his creed.

They crossed the steppe, traveled through a centaur town where the law forbade stairs, a Kiffness festival that swapped out festivities for fighting, and secret underground bases established by agents of a hostile foreign power. Then they went back to the festival.

“I hate to see the writers fall back on this convoluted Beruvia-type chapter progression again. The linear chapters are better. Adventures are about moving forward. Finishing Strike!” Ulrik retreated before fresh Gracchus Rangers showed up, his Reaper pride assuaged by the occasional killsteal.

“I don't know, Ulrik. It doesn't always make a lot of sense that I can do what needs to be done just by going to new places.” Cadmos grabbed one of the Rangers by his fuzzy little chiropt ear, flung him upward, and juggled him for seven hits before the foe's death ended the attempt. “Dang.”

“That was an impressive performance for being an authentic live-fire situation, so I hate to bring this up, but if Santa C. Dorenz or Darlotte Glofal saw that particular launcher, we might be made to regret it,” Hemt warned.

“So if they don't see it, we won't?” Cadmos laughed, skewered another Ranger, and said, “I guess I should keep to the moveset we've established the way the Beruvos are doing, so thanks for the reminder.”

Indeed, the twin axes of the twin queens struck harsh blows against surrounded enemies so relentlessly that the three plain-looking pals began to believe Coremel had been unfairly belittled over his anti-puppet agenda. Now when Centaur Assassin, the replacement for Chapter 1's boss Waxing Gibbous, bounced around in the air on top of Cadmos's Nova while the other four pelted it all the way down to 0 HP, that was fair and honest gameplay. “Will I ever get to play again?” Surely no Ersatz Struggle player would ever wonder that.

Though no other group challenging Vigilant Patrol that day contained two spinoff entrants, the officers who viewed even one of them in action and compared them with their memories of being thrashed by Dennet came to some uncomfortable conclusions. “I can't wait to see players complaining about random items,” Luerre Voine confessed back in Freegate, thereby starting a wide-ranging and loud session, not of recriminations for his minor sadism, but of assurances that other fighters seemed far more annoying.

“Does she even have to move to hit you anywhere on screen? Theena I mean.”

“He kept falling down on purpose and getting up with an uppercut. There was nothing they could do about it. Ridiculous.”

“It doesn't matter here because there's no blocking, but if you have to choose which way to block, I don't get how that's done. It's plain impractical.”

All those claims had pride inside them, a coat of gloating over them, and a ribbon of admiration to tie the whole thing up. Did anyone pity the poor players? No. Fighting game types seemed to like that kind of thing anyway, and Commandment of Hero's officers enjoyed making contentious claims regarding unverifiable supremacy.

Dosellian Urapta listened to all the proposals and evidence before he told them the truth. “There's no need to award one fighter the title, because as some of you must have realized, the most degenerate character in a fighting game is the one you last fought.”

“Hurray!” the crowd cheered, and it cheered even louder when Wruden Calx wheeled in a cart full of trophies with “Most Annoying” printed on them. Each of the weeping fighters received one, and along with it, the spirit of the officers not selected for that weighty project of vexing the whole world in multiplayer matches both online and in person.