The odd thing about this place between worlds was the color. It wasn’t translucent as one may expect, nor was it some drab comparison to the living world. Who would have thought Limbo would have such vivid shades of red?
The figure before our late hero was a counterpoint to its surroundings. It was all shades of grey, excepting the pale fire that shone in its eye. The specter of Death was separate from its surroundings even here, in this place of its own making.
Between them lay a game. As tabletop games went, Cones of Dunshire looked surprisingly amateur. A casual observer would wonder at the cheap paper forming the most prominent pieces. But then, at this place more than any other, origins were important. This was the original board.
Ben was enjoying this moment, this point of victory. He wasn’t a born showman but his long career had birthed a host of talents. Self improvement was always easier with support, and he smiled as memories of one of his old friends flashed through his mind. He was channeling Tom right now to great effect.
“I’ll play an action card, and build a Bell Tower inside your Citadel,” he said with a smirk.
MY SHAMAN CASTS A BURST SPELL ON YOUR PROSPERITY TILE, Death intoned. LOOKS LIKE SOMEONE IS OUT OF RESOURCE GEMS. It couldn’t smile, but it gave off a sense of dulled mirth regardless. It had grown bored of these challenges over the years, and beating people at their own games was the closest it came to a challenge. It found itself almost sad that it had won. Surely this man, husband of the world's most powerful woman, could do better. It was a shame.
Then, defying Death’s expectations, Ben steepled his fingers and laughed.
WHAT’S SO FUNNY? mocked Death.
“You’re a smart guy, you’ve clearly picked up some flashy tricks,” said Ben, leaning back in his chair.
Death took a moment to wonder where the chair had come from.
“But, you made one crucial mistake,” continued Ben. “You forgot about the essence of the game. It’s all about the Cones.” He cast the dice one final time. “I move my Abbot to the ocean hex, which moves my Brinksman to the Devil’s Lair. This pushes my Farmer - yes, my humble Farmer - directly into the central Cone.”
Both Ben and Death took a moment to focus on that vivid red cone. Then, somehow with both reluctance and glee, it was toppled by a pallid finger of bone. On this day, Death was defeated. Upon reflection, what else could he expect from the Architect?
xxxxxxx
Meanwhile, back in the world of the living, Leslie Knope stood flanked by the secret service. It was suddenly quiet next to her husband’s hospital bed. Ben’s heart had stopped beating for a little over six seconds before restarting itself, stronger than ever. He opened his eyes and stared up at her.
“Leslie, I’ve just thought of a way to pass the sewage bill we’ve been working on!” he exclaimed.
With a laughing sob, Leslie knew it was going to be all right.
writing_gene t1_j24h7x9 wrote
Reply to [WP] You challenged Death to a game when your time came, not because you feared your death, but because he was the only one left you had yet to best by PotentialSmell
The odd thing about this place between worlds was the color. It wasn’t translucent as one may expect, nor was it some drab comparison to the living world. Who would have thought Limbo would have such vivid shades of red?
The figure before our late hero was a counterpoint to its surroundings. It was all shades of grey, excepting the pale fire that shone in its eye. The specter of Death was separate from its surroundings even here, in this place of its own making.
Between them lay a game. As tabletop games went, Cones of Dunshire looked surprisingly amateur. A casual observer would wonder at the cheap paper forming the most prominent pieces. But then, at this place more than any other, origins were important. This was the original board.
Ben was enjoying this moment, this point of victory. He wasn’t a born showman but his long career had birthed a host of talents. Self improvement was always easier with support, and he smiled as memories of one of his old friends flashed through his mind. He was channeling Tom right now to great effect.
“I’ll play an action card, and build a Bell Tower inside your Citadel,” he said with a smirk.
MY SHAMAN CASTS A BURST SPELL ON YOUR PROSPERITY TILE, Death intoned. LOOKS LIKE SOMEONE IS OUT OF RESOURCE GEMS. It couldn’t smile, but it gave off a sense of dulled mirth regardless. It had grown bored of these challenges over the years, and beating people at their own games was the closest it came to a challenge. It found itself almost sad that it had won. Surely this man, husband of the world's most powerful woman, could do better. It was a shame.
Then, defying Death’s expectations, Ben steepled his fingers and laughed.
WHAT’S SO FUNNY? mocked Death.
“You’re a smart guy, you’ve clearly picked up some flashy tricks,” said Ben, leaning back in his chair.
Death took a moment to wonder where the chair had come from.
“But, you made one crucial mistake,” continued Ben. “You forgot about the essence of the game. It’s all about the Cones.” He cast the dice one final time. “I move my Abbot to the ocean hex, which moves my Brinksman to the Devil’s Lair. This pushes my Farmer - yes, my humble Farmer - directly into the central Cone.”
Both Ben and Death took a moment to focus on that vivid red cone. Then, somehow with both reluctance and glee, it was toppled by a pallid finger of bone. On this day, Death was defeated. Upon reflection, what else could he expect from the Architect?
xxxxxxx
Meanwhile, back in the world of the living, Leslie Knope stood flanked by the secret service. It was suddenly quiet next to her husband’s hospital bed. Ben’s heart had stopped beating for a little over six seconds before restarting itself, stronger than ever. He opened his eyes and stared up at her.
“Leslie, I’ve just thought of a way to pass the sewage bill we’ve been working on!” he exclaimed.
With a laughing sob, Leslie knew it was going to be all right.