The n00b Warriors (10 page)

As for the games themselves, it’s hard not to be impressed at games that seek to educate kids so interactively. The highlight of their Press Conference was a game titled
America
. True, it’s not the most original name, but no one seemed to care once they saw the game’s content.

The game pits players on the front of the American Revolution. Here, young gamers learn about the battlefield tactics of the country’s first President, General George Washington. Gone are the fluffy textbook narratives, which portray him as a gentleman who would “never lie.” In their place is the frank portrayal of a ruthless revolutionary figure who sometimes was forced to make harsh choices for the nation to prevail.

America
, the game’s spokesman promises, will be followed by a long line of games that educate about all of America’s great, and not so great, moments in war.

Tags: PlayStation, video games, EP, America, game rating system, Educational Play, Euro Gaming Convention

Level 5

Moving Out

When Dylan opened his eyes, Goofy was staring at him, pointing a gun at his forehead. “If you want to live to see tomorrow, put your hands on your head.”

Dylan sat up, startled, and put his hands on his head.

Hunter, who was next to Dylan in bed again, screamed when he saw what was going on.

“Quiet,” the Goofy figure said, shaking his gun at Hunter.

“What do you want?” Dylan asked, trying to keep his voice from shaking so Hunter wouldn’t freak out more.

“Do you know—the Hokey Pokey?”

“The Hokey Pokey?” Dylan was confused.

Goofy nodded and started to laugh. “It’s just me, Lyle,” the figure said, removing the head and tossing it on the ground. “I really got you!”

Dylan shoved off the covers and stood. “Really funny,” he said as he started to get dressed, avoiding Lyle’s eye.

“Maybe this will make you smile.” Lyle pulled a chrome button with two stripes from his pocket and handed it to Dylan, “You’ve just been promoted to team leader of Company D.”

“Team leader?” Dylan asked, confused again.

Lyle nodded, excited. “I’ve been moved to Company C, and I gave your name as my personal recommendation.” He paused and then added, “Congratulations.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you eat at the big boy’s table—come on, grab your things and let’s get some breakfast.”

“What about Hunter?”

Irritated, Lyle glanced at Hunter and said, “What about him? You can meet him after breakfast.”

Dylan turned to Hunter and said, “Get dressed and go to Trinity’s room. I’ll find you downstairs.” He looked over at Samuel. He was lying in the fetal position at the edge of the other bed, staring blankly at the TV—the same position and place Hunter and Dylan found him in when they came back the night before. They’d tried to talk to him, but he refused to speak. “And get Samuel downstairs.”

“What if he won’t get out of bed?”

“Find Trinity and have her help you.”

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“The great thing about your new position,” one of Lyle’s friends explained as Dylan ate breakfast, “is you get to send the other kids out to die—I lost my entire company last week, and you know what happened to me?”

Dylan shook his head.

“Army gave me a week off while they put together a new squad for me! I’ve been riding rides all week.”

“So my job is just to assign kids to die?”

“Basically,” the guy laughed. “It sounds bad when you put it that way—you get used to losing men. I’ve been assigned to new men twenty times, and I’ve only been in the Army less than a year.”

“I’ve been assigned new men twenty-two times,” Lyle boasted.

“Twenty-six here,” another man called.

“I heard about a woman in Oregon that has been assigned new companies over a hundred times, and has lost over a thousand soldiers!”

“Gun-Shy Molly?” Lyle asked.

“That’s her.”

“She’s a legend,” Lyle said dismissively. He turned to Dylan. “But it’s like I always say—exaggeration is just another form of survival in the Army. Maybe twenty-two squads have served under me, and maybe there’s only been one. Maybe we’re all lying. Doesn’t matter. No one cares as long as you act like you’re the right man for the job.”

Dylan was barely listening, staring instead at the entrance and waiting for Trinity and Hunter to come in. A piece of corn hit him between the eyes, and Dylan looked across the table at Lyle’s friend. “Are you?” the soldier asked, throwing another piece of corn.

“Am I what?”

“The right man for the job.”

Dylan shrugged. “Sure—whatever.”

Lyle laughed and slapped Dylan on the back. “What’d I say! Do I pick them good or what?” He started to say something more, but stopped when he saw Trinity and Hunter approaching. “What are they doing here? This area is reserved for team leaders only.”

“They’re with me,” Dylan objected.

“I don’t care who they’re with—this is the only time we have to bond as leaders.” Lyle stood and held out his hand towards Dylan’s friends. “Just turn back around. You’re not welcome here.”

Dylan stood, too. “I’ll meet you in a second,” he said apologetically.

“We need you now,” said Trinity. “It’s Samuel—he’s refusing to come out of the room, and there’s guards up there threatening to force him out.”

Dylan quickly stepped away from the table.

“You’re going?” Lyle asked.

“He’s in my company now.”

“Don’t waste your time,” Lyle called after him.

Dylan ignored him and followed Trinity out of the dining hall.

When they got to the room, Samuel was being dragged out by two guards. He wasn’t fighting being taken away; his body was limp. For a moment, Dylan thought he was dead, but as he was dragged past them, his eyes blinked. “That man is in my company,” Dylan said hesitantly.

“Not anymore—he violated a direct order from a superior officer by not vacating this room.” The guard looked down at Samuel and added, “He’s no good to you, anyway.”

“Do something, Dylan,” Trinity pleaded.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Lead!” Trinity pushed him out of the way and asked the guard, “If I can get him to stand on his own, will you let him go?”

The guard rolled his eyes. “We don’t have time for this—I haven’t even gotten my breakfast.”

Trinity ignored the guard and bent down to Samuel. She put her hands on his shoulders and shook him. “Snap out of it, Samuel! Stand up!” She turned to Dylan and said, “Help me! Help me stand him up.”

“He’s just in shock, Trinity. Let them take him.”

At that, Hunter went up and wrapped his arms around Samuel’s waist, doing his best to hold him up. The guards seemed amused at first at the effort, but quickly got bored; one of them slapped Trinity’s hand from Samuel and pushed her away. “Enough.”

Trinity whirled around to Dylan and said, “Is this how you lead? Just stand back and do nothing? What happened to looking out for us?” Then she stalked off.

Dylan turned away from her, troubled, and watched as the two guards dragged Samuel down the hall. He started to go back to finish breakfast but noticed Hunter hadn’t moved. “What?”

“His things are still in the room,” Hunter quietly pointed out. “Should I go get them or something?”

Dylan looked into their hotel room, then back at Hunter and nodded. “Sure. Go through his stuff and find anything we might need.”

Hunter stared at him. “I meant to take it to him. I’m not going to steal his stuff.”

“It’s a war, Hunter—that’s what people do.” He saw that Hunter was upset and changed his tone. “Just go eat, yeah?”

“Are you going to take it?” Hunter challenged.

Dylan thought for a moment, then sighed. “No.”

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After breakfast, Lyle took Dylan upstairs to meet the Company D commander. The company headquarters were all found on the upper levels of the hotel. Company A and B each had entire floors; Company C had most of a floor; and Company D had a room.

“The guy’s very traditional, so make sure and salute him and call him sir—he demands respect. Old-school, you know?”

Dylan nodded and stood back politely as Lyle walked to the guard in front of the headquarter’s door. The guard was playing a PSP and hadn’t noticed Lyle and Dylan approaching. When he looked up and saw Lyle standing in front of him, he jumped and almost dropped his game.

“We’re here to see Pus Face—he’s expecting us.”

The guard nodded and opened the door so they could enter.

“Pus Face?” Dylan whispered as they entered. “How’s that treating him with respect?”

Lyle ignored him and walked immediately to the front of the room, where a man was seated at a large desk. The lighting was dim, and a mattress stood upright in front of the window, blocking any natural light from coming into the room.

The commander was not much older than Lyle and had a bad case of acne. Lyle saluted him cursorily. “Missed a heck of a party last night, Pus Face.”

He nodded. “Glad you had fun—some of us have to work.”

Lyle smiled and turned to Dylan, “Truth is, Dylan, he doesn’t like going outside on account of his acne problem.”

The commander looked down awkwardly at a stack of papers, and then looked beyond Lyle to Dylan. “Heard you fought an incredible fight last night.”

Dylan nodded. He was tired of hearing about the fight.

The commander reclined in his chair and said, “Young man, where I come from, you answer your superior offer, ‘Yes, Sir.’”

“Sorry, sir—yes, sir, it was a good fight.”

The commander stood, irritated, and walked to a pinball machine by the wall. “Did you inform him I’m old-school?”

“I told him, Pus Face.” Lyle paused and gave Dylan a “what gives” look. “You know how these new team leaders are—barely trained and don’t know the rules.”

They waited as the commander finished playing a game and then went to a mirror on the wall and started poking at a zit. “What do you think happened yesterday?” he finally asked, looking at Dylan in the mirror.

“What do you mean, sir?”

“I mean did you get lucky or did you really know what you were doing?”

“I was just trying to live, sir.”

“So survival?” he quizzed.

Dylan shrugged. “I guess.”

“We need more men like that—men trying to survive.” He paused, popping a zit and then wiping the pus from the mirror with his sleeve. “Get what’s left of your company and head to the bus loading area. You’re heading out in one hour—you’ll be assigned more soldiers once you reach your destination.”

“Where are we going, sir?”

“You’ll see.” He sat back at his desk.

As the two of them left the headquarters, Dylan asked, “Why do you get to call him Pus Face and I have to call him sir?”

“I’m with Company C now—he’s not my commander.” Lyle went to the window in the hall and looked down at the pool. It was full of kids. He turned, saluted Dylan, and said, “It’s been a pleasure leading you, but this is where I leave you.” Before Dylan could reply, Lyle was running away, taking his shirt off as he went. Halfway down the hall, he stopped, turned, and yelled with a laugh, “Good luck in Seattle! You’ll need it!”

“Seattle?!”