BATTLESHIP
YOU ARE PLAYER ONE.
THE BOARD IS ALIVE.
THE SHIPS ARE SCREAMING QUIETLY.
RULES (NON-NEGOTIABLE)
Every Hit wounds a person.
Every Sunk finishes them.
Misses still hurt someone.
You cannot stop once you start reading.
THE GRID
Letters are etched into skin.
Numbers are stitched with wire.
Somewhere under the waterline, people are locked shoulder-to-shoulder, arms chained, bodies forming straight lines because the board insists.
You don’t see them.
You feel them when you choose.
TURN 1
CALL A COORDINATE.
Choose one:
A3
C7
E5
— IF YOU CHOSE A3 —
HIT.
A man’s shoulder explodes open like wet paper.
The harpoon tears through muscle, pins him to the next body in the line. His scream jerks the others awake.
Blood spreads in a perfect square.
He begs you to miss next time.
— IF YOU CHOSE C7 —
MISS.
The spike sinks into open water.
Then hooks a leg, drifting just beneath the surface.
Someone was hiding.
They are dragged into formation, screaming, bones cracking until they fit the grid.
The board corrects itself.
— IF YOU CHOSE E5 —
HIT.
A woman is pierced clean through the mouth.
Her teeth shatter. The sound rings like dice in a cup.
She’s still alive. The rules don’t care.
TURN 2
The board suggests the next move by nudging your eyes.
Choose:
A4
D7
E6
— A4 —
HIT.
The first man’s ribs burst outward.
His blood slicks the others, making them harder to hold together.
Someone laughs hysterically until the chain through his spine snaps him quiet.
— D7 —
HIT.
You’ve found a long one.
A line of people convulse at once as the strike runs through them like electricity. Skin tears where they’re chained together. One tries to crawl away and pulls three others with him.
The board vibrates with pleasure.
— E6 —
HIT.
The woman from E5 gurgles.
Her tongue falls into the water and floats like bait.
TURN 3
A voice rises from beneath the surface. It's not loud, not desperate.
“If you finish us, it will place you.”
Choose:
A5
D8
F6
— A5 —
HIT.
ANNOUNCEMENT: You have sunk a Destroyer.
The remaining bodies in the shape are crushed inward, bones folding until the pattern is complete. Death is fast for some. Not all.
You feel relieved.
That worries you.
— D8 —
HIT.
Another line. Bigger.
Someone starts counting aloud as the strike passes through them—
“One. Two. Three...”
They don’t reach four.
— F6 —
MISS.
Your spike punches through a lung anyway.
The board marks it red and pretends that it is water.
STATUS UPDATE
ENEMY SHIPS REMAIN.
SCREAMS DECREASING.
YOUR HANDS ARE STEADY NOW.
FINAL TURN
The board tightens. Only one shape left.
You know where it is. You always did.
Choose:
CENTER
DO NOT FIRE
— IF YOU CHOOSE CENTER —
HIT.
Every remaining person is struck at once.
Spines snap in sequence like dominoes. Blood erupts upward in a perfect square.
ANNOUNCEMENT: You have sunk the Carrier.
Silence floods the grid.
Then the chains retract.
— IF YOU CHOOSE DO NOT FIRE —
The board waits.
It lowers you into the water gently.
Aligns your arms.
Straightens your legs.
You fit beautifully.
ANNOUNCEMENT: New ship placed.
GAME CONTINUES.
NEXT PLAYER: SOMEONE ELSE.
ROUND 2:
BATTLESHIP
MODE: CUMULATIVE
MEMORY: ENABLED
LIES: ACTIVE
PLAYER STATUS: UNSTABLE
You are no longer outside the grid.
You are moving through it, one square at a time, ankles scraping rusted chains, water up to your ribs.
Some ships are alive and hiding.
Some are dead and still screaming.
Some are lying to you because they want you to fire somewhere else.
The board keeps a ledger of every choice you’ve ever made.
THE BOARD SPEAKS (ARCHIVE PLAYBACK)
Player 12 begged for corners.
Player 41 trusted the center.
Player 77 tried not to fire.
None of them are ships anymore.
They’re coordinates.
YOU ARE A SHIP NOW
Your body occupies three squares, but you don’t know which ones.
Every step you take shifts your shape.
The board loves improvisation.
Blood drips upward instead of down.
WHISPERS FROM THE GRID (HIDDEN SHIPS)
A child’s voice from beneath you:
“D4 is empty. I swear.”
A man with no jaw, speaking directly into your spine:
“They’re clustered at F8. End it.”
A woman laughing softly, too calmly:
“Miss on purpose. It hurts more.”
At least one of these is lying.
At least one is already dead.
TURN: SOMEONE ELSE IS FIRING
You feel the harpoon before you hear the call.
INCOMING COORDINATE: E5
That square is… close.
Choose how you react (you only get one):
SHIFT LEFT (your shape will change)
HOLD FORMATION (take the hit clean)
DRAG SOMEONE WITH YOU (you will not be alone)
— SHIFT LEFT —
Your hip tears as chains rip free.
You slide into a new square just as the harpoon punches through where your liver was supposed to be.
MISS.
Someone else screams instead.
The board updates your outline. You feel longer now.
Hidden ships take notes.
— HOLD FORMATION —
HIT.
The spike enters through your shoulder and anchors you to another body.
You feel their heart burst against your ribs like a dropped fruit.
You are still alive.
The board likes survivors.
— DRAG SOMEONE WITH YOU —
You grab blindly. Fingers tangle in hair.
The harpoon skewers both of you.
HIT CONFIRMED. COLLATERAL DAMAGE ACCEPTED.
They beg you not to let go.
You don’t know if you can.
STATUS UPDATE
YOU ARE BLEEDING
YOUR SHIP IS NOT SUNK
THE BOARD IS PLEASED
YOUR TURN
You are allowed to fire.
But the board does something new.
It highlights three squares and overlays faces on them—
previous players, warped, smiling wrong.
B2 – someone who never missed
F8 – someone who believed the whispers
CENTER – someone who thought ending it was mercy
The hidden ships begin chanting coordinates out of sync.
Your blood pulses in time with the cursor.
CHOOSE YOUR SHOT:
B2
F8
CENTER
No highlight.
No hover.
No suggestion.
Because the board already knows.
It has been timing you since the first word you read.
It has been measuring hesitation in milliseconds, fear in pulse, and guilt in eye movement.
Somewhere beneath the surface, a body shifts into place.
It's straightening, aligning, and becoming useful.
The board whispers, not to you, but about you:
“They always pick the same way in the end.”
The grid tightens by one square.
The cursor stops blinking.
And for the first time since the game began,
The board smiles.
Because whatever you choose will be recorded as where you were when the game chose back...
About the Creator
Christina Nelson
I started writing when i was in the 3rd grade. That's when i discovered I had an overactive imagination. I'm currently trying to publish 2 books, hopefully I can improve my writing here before I hit the big leagues in writing.
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Comments (1)
Awesome 👌