Mayfly

How to Lose a Rogue in 10 Minutes

The waiting pen was a cage, plain and simple. Iron bars curved overhead like a dome. A heavy latticed gate sealed the front. Beyond it, the battlefield sprawled.

A sandstone canyon, bleached gold by a fixed sun. Red rock walls rose in jagged tiers on either side. The basin below was cracked earth and pale sand, dotted with the occasional bone of something that hadn’t made it out. Three stone platforms jutted up from the desert, each one pulsing with a slow, neutral glow. Waiting to be claimed. Near. Mid. Far. 

As the battlefield countdown ticked, players piled against the gate like cattle. A player named Garlic was patiently explaining mechanics to her teammate. She was tall and slender, like an elf dusted in dragonscale, with pointed ears, bull-curved horns, and a thin tail curling with a mind of its own. A Dragonborn Lancer, the newest race and class added to Zenix Online in the previous expansion.

“It’s capture the platforms,” Garlic said in team chat. “There’s three. Near, mid, far. Just pick any one and do your best to defeat the enemies there.”

“Oh, how fun!” chirped Rosa, a bright-eyed, bushy-tailed human priest.

MrWiggles, a dwarf paladin with twin red pigtails, glared at her.

“You’ve seriously never heard of this before?”

“Nope!” said Rosa. “I usually play Glam: Fashion Idol. But I saw an ad for this with some cute outfits so here I am.”

Rosa snapped her fingers.

“Oh! One more thing… How do I know who’s good and who’s bad?”

“Look down,” said Garlic. “See your tabard? We’re all wearing the same one.”

Rosa beamed.

“Oh! Right!”

“Any more brain-busters for us?” Wiggles added.

Before anyone could move on, she chimed in again.

“Oh! One more thing! What’s a tabard?”

A collective groan rippled through the room. Thirty seconds. Garlic gripped her lance like she was squeezing the last toothpaste from the tube.

“Guys, heads up,” she said. “If I disconnect it’s because my mom found me.”

“Found you?” said Wiggles. “What’re you, hiding from an axe murderer?”

“There’s a good chance she might murder me, yes,” Garlic replied.

In real life, she sat on a closed toilet lid, balancing a laptop on her knees and scrunching her shoulders like she was committing some kind of crime. The bathroom fan rattled overhead as an ethernet cord snaked under the locked door.

As the countdown hit ten seconds, the roster evened out. A Rogue named Finn joined the blue team. Just like that, morale plummeted. 

“There goes our chances,” said Wiggles.

Garlic gritted her teeth.

“No, we can do this,” she declared. “I did not barricade myself in a bathroom for nothing.”

The gate slammed open with a clang. Heat rolled in first, dry and mean. Then the light. Then the ground, sun-cracked and crunching underfoot as players spilled out into the basin.

Garlic vaulted forward, leading the charge with MrWiggles just behind.

“I’ll go with you guys!” said Rosa, already falling behind.

“How about you go home,” muttered Wiggles. “I can’t stand newbies like that.”

Garlic laughed.

“Rosa? But she’s so nice.”

“Nobody’s that nice,” said Wiggles. “I see right through her.”

“At least she’s asking questions,” she replied. “You should thank her for trying.”

Wiggles scoffed.

“I’ll thank her when she logs out.”

They reached mid, the heart of the battlefield while the rest of their team scattered to fight off-platform. Wiggles braced himself.

“Looks like it’s just you and me.”

Garlic hesitated. 

“About that. Someone should steal far-side.”

“Don’t even think about it,” he snapped. 

“Thanks, I won’t,” she said, already turning. “Don’t worry! You’ve got Rosa!”

His look was pure betrayal as he continued up the ramp. Rosa followed shortly behind him holding her staff upside down.

“Hey, am I doing damage?” she asked.

A second later, explosions consumed both of them.

Meanwhile, Garlic reached far-side. A ramp unrolled from the platform like a stone tongue, sloping down into the sand. A blue warrior spotted her, swinging wide, but she ducked beneath it and kept running.

She climbed the enemy ramp just in time. Their team hadn’t even captured it yet.

A flash of steel.

Garlic dropped into a slide, missing a dagger to the face by inches as she clenched like a suction cup in real life. Her character popped back up behind her attacker, an elf rogue with shaggy white hair. 

Finn.

“Making me work for it, huh?” he said. “Be better if you hit back, though.”

He spun his daggers like pistols in a western.

“Yeah?” she shot back. “Be even better if you kept your cringe lines to yourself.”

Finn laughed.

“Nah. I like playing with my food. Besides, most players just panic and rush me. Look at you. Taking your time.” 

Garlic kept her distance. Rogues had a steep learning curve but a high ceiling. If you were bad, it showed, but a good Rogue could win any matchup.

She spun her lance like she meant business but almost dropped it.

“Well it’s a long run over here,” she said, recovering fast. “I’m not trying to make that twice.”

Finn circled like a shark.

“First person I’ve seen all match actually use their dodge.”

Garlic batted her eyes.

“Who, me? I just button mashed. How about you just let this poor little girl get back to her side?”

Finn chuckled. 

“Oh, I doubt that. You’re probably some sweaty dude in his thirties, like most girls in this game.” 

“Oof,” Garlic replied. “Surely it’s not that many?”

“You’d be surprised,” said Finn. “I used to play as a chick too, but I got tired of getting hit on.”

“Is that why you’re such a gentleman, now?” she asked.

Finn smirked.

“See? You get it. Chivalry ain’t dead… I’m right here.”

The platform flickered gray. Contested. One of them had to go.

“Enough foreplay,” said Finn. “Let’s eat.”

He vanished into stealth as Garlic froze, tucking her elbows like a T-rex. 

A faint shuffle behind her. Oh crap. 

She spun, swinging at nothing.

“You alright over there?” Finn teased from the shadows.

“Just dandy,” she called out. “Can’t sneak up on me if you can’t get close.”

“Be my guest,” he told her. “Swing ’till your fingers cramp. You’ll get tired before I do.”

He had a point. She pivoted.

Vorpal Thrust. 

Her lance tore forward in a straight line, ripping across the platform. Another miss.

“Not even close,” said Finn. “You’re gonna have to do better than…”

Again. This time she guessed right, knocking him out of hiding. 

Flip Strike. 

She surged forward, stunning and hurling him into the air, but Finn used Cloak of Shadows, vanishing before she could follow up.

She quickly cleaved the space around her, but he was gone again. At least his get-out-of-jail-free card was on cooldown now. 

“There’s strike one,” said Garlic.

“Apparently,” said Finn. “How’d you do that?”

She grinned. If only he knew.

If she had the rage for it, Falling Star could’ve ended this. Leap and crash, knock him out of hiding. That would’ve dropped him into the red for Shadow Spear to finish the job. But she’d burned through too much rage getting here. She’d have to do this the hard way.

Before she could answer… reality yanked her back. Hard.

“May!” her mom called out, pounding the door with her fist. “You’ve been in there forever! Did you fall in?” 

Crap. 

May almost dropped her laptop. Her cursor skidded as her character jerked around.

“May!” her mom yelled again. “I’m serious! Come out!”

May scrambled out of the bathroom, clicking out of the battlefield as she went, toilet paper trailing from her shoe.

Finn threw up his hands as her character vanished, coming out of stealth.

“Hey! Get back here!”

White light sparkled around his character. A heal, from the looks of it, but his health bar didn’t budge. Wrong team.

He glanced back to see Rosa hobbling up the ramp, using her staff like a walking stick.

“Guys, I think we’re winning!” she cheered.

Finn just stared at her, at a loss for words.

In real life, he sat at his computer in the basement game room with his two friends sprawled across the couch. Hurley mashed his controller like Bop-It while Danicka lounged beside him.

“I think you made the computer too hard,” she said. “You’re getting wrecked.”

Hurley lobbed a gummy worm at her. She cackled and shielded herself. 

“Just quit out and put it on easy,” Finn called out over his shoulder. “Whatever’s going on, it’s tragic to listen to.”

Danicka scraped the dust off an old laptop on the coffee table and held her finger up to Hurley.

“Hey uh… Finn,” she began. “What’s the deal with this laptop?”

He glanced back.

“Oh. That’s my dad’s.”

GAME OVER flashed across the TV.

“You distracted me,” said Hurley. “I’m doing a rematch.”

“Whatever,” Danicka replied. “It’s more fun watching you suck at this, anyway.”

Finn laughed, queuing up for another battleground.

Elsewhere, May was sprinting up and down the hall, her hair a mess with one sock on and one sock missing. She slid into her room and tossed the laptop onto her bed. 

Purple text hit her chat log. A private message from Finn.

“How’d you know where I was?” he asked.

“May!” her mom barked from the hallway. “Shoes. Jacket. Now.”

“I’m literally putting them on!” May yelled back.

She yanked a shirt over her head and typed back.

“There’s stats on all this,” she wrote. “82% of Rogues ambush from behind, so that’s the first place people check. But experienced Rogues compensate. Roughly 67% shift left next, since most players circle away from their opponent’s dominant hand. That means the left flank is…”

She hit the character limit and hit send, already typing another message.

“The highest-percentage ambush. Simple deduction.”

Finn replied instantly.

“Ew. Nerd. I’m sorry I asked.”

May huffed, shoving her foot into a shoe.

“Since when does being right make you a nerd?” she asked.

“Since the moment you turned fun into math,” he replied.

“May!” her mom snapped. “Do I need to dress you myself? Because I will.”

“I’m just brushing my hair!” May shouted, shaking a brush into the hallway.

She came back and started typing with one hand.

“Math is fun,” she argued.

“Ugh,” Finn replied. “Don’t ever say that again.”

“It is, though,” she went on. “Math is just knowing how things work. The nuts and bolts. The mechanics.”

“Mechanics are for cars,” said Finn. “I bet you love explaining jokes too.”

“No,” she argued. “Not always. But the more context you have, the more enjoyable something is.”

“Stab stab, die die,” said Finn. “THAT’S enjoyable.”

“Are you simple?” she asked. “Surely you care about more than just that.”

“Nope,” he replied. “Might as well tell me how a hotdog works. I’ll just lose my appetite.”

“I’m amazed you made it past the login screen,” she concluded. “Agree to disagree.”

“Agree to stop talking to me,” Finn insisted. “Please go back to whatever statistics textbook you crawled out of and stop dissecting fun.”

May puffed her chest, typing back with confidence.

“AP statistics. For your information.”

“That checks out,” said Finn. “Statistically, you’re an enormous buzzkill.”

May’s jaw dropped.

“Hey, fine by me! I’m blocking you anyway.”

She hit send but her message failed. Finn beat her to it, blocking her first. 

May’s face flared as red as the error text on her screen.

“MAY!” her mom yelled. “I’m not asking again.”

May slammed the laptop shut.

“Coming!” she shouted, snatching her bag and barreling toward the door.

A while later she joined her mother in the park, walking side by side as the warm sun filtered through the trees. Families bustled around them, unpacking baskets and blankets. The air smelled like burgers and fresh grass. 

“We’re almost late for Sunday Brunch!” her mother scolded. “I swear, it’s like you live in the bathroom!”

“Mom, stop,” she groaned. “You’re exaggerating.”

Her mom adjusted her sunhat with a huff.

“You spend so much time in front of a screen,” she said. “You’re gonna go cross-eyed like your uncle. He practically blinks sideways now. Like a camel. Is that what you want to be?”

May shoved her hands into her pockets.

“That’s not how that works,” she muttered. “It’s no worse for my eyes than a textbook. At least with this you don’t stand over my shoulder the whole time.”

“Maybe I should,” said her mom. “I really don't like this Zee-nix phase. I mean, what kind of game gives you stomach problems? You were in there for fifteen minutes.”

“Mom, it's Zenix,” May replied. “How many times do I have to tell you? Zen-ix.”

“Whatever it is. Are you passing, at least?”

“You mean winning?” May replied. “I do alright.”

Her mom shook her head.

“You waste all this time on this game just for alright? Honestly, May.”

Her mom led them toward their blanket under the shade of a tree. May’s younger brother, Alex, was already lounging around, tapping away on his handheld console.

“You only do this with me,” said May. “Alex plays games all the time and it’s perfectly fine.”

“Alex doesn’t hide in bathrooms,” her mom replied.

“She doesn’t even use the bathroom,” Alex mumbled without looking up. “She just plays her game in there.”

“Hey!” said May, socking him lightly in the arm. “Don’t rat me out.”

“You started it!” he snapped back. 

May dropped beside him and reached for the picnic basket, but her mind was already back in Zenix. She pictured Finn’s face if she landed that first Vorpal Thrust.

“Who are you playing with, anyway?” asked Alex. “Is it a boy?”

“What? No,” said May. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

Alex grinned.

“So, it is a boy.”

May bounced a grape off his forehead.

“Mom!” Alex whined. “May’s wasting food.”

“That’s enough, both of you,” said their mom. “Do something useful and help me set up. And May, no screens at the table.”

“It’s a blanket,” May muttered, sliding her phone into her pocket.

As she pulled out a container of sandwiches, the Rogue’s last message came back to her.

“Hey mom,” she said. “Can I ask you something?”

“What is it?”

May scratched at her sleeve.

“Am I a buzzkill?”

“Yes,” said Alex.

May grabbed another grape, but this time her mother gave her a look before she could throw it.

“Why would you think that?” her mom asked.

May shrugged.

“I don’t know. Someone said I dissect fun.”

Alex snorted.

“Well they’re right.”

“Of course you’re not a buzzkill,” said her mom. “But you do spend a lot of time in your head.”

“So?” said May. “I didn’t realize thinking was a crime.”

“It’s not,” said her mom. “But overthinking is expensive, and we’re poor enough already. You’re always wasting time and energy on things you can’t control.”

May looked at her.

“Like you? My weeks are planned like a prison schedule. Down to the minute. Even the weekends. Maybe I wouldn’t have to sneak video games if you weren’t so strict.”

“It’s called structure,” said her mom. “Someday you’ll thank me.”

May swallowed.

“Maybe I worry so much because I learned it from you,” she said. “Maybe I’m in my head so much because it’s the only place you don’t yell at me.”

Her mom didn’t flinch. She just handed May a stack of napkins. 

“Quit being dramatic,” she said.

May took a napkin and passed the rest to Alex. Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She didn’t check it.