[MODERATED - player memory] [CRITERIA: defeat the NPCs]
It's a typical soccer field somewhere on the outskirts of Toronto, bordered on three sides by a forest of gnarly trees Small Muggle children, clad in red or blue uniforms, dart across the neatly trimmed grass, shouting, tripping and bashing into each other in a quest to get that soccer ball. The bleachers are crammed with parents, shouting encouragement at their little darlings to crush the competition, or staring at their phones wishing the game would end soon.
In front of the red team’s goal stands a six-year-old Gemma Zhao, unusually quiet and still. Her face is scrunched up with determination, her hands clenched by her sides. The score is tied. They must not lose.
The ball soars toward Gemma, kicked by an unusually long-legged seven-year-old. She jumps and lunges toward it, but it’s too high, too far to the right. She can’t get it. “Aargh!” she yells, mentally willing the ball away from the goal.
Suddenly the ball shoots out of her hands at lightning speed, and she loses track of where it is. The game stops and the Muggles look around, blinking in confusion. Finally, Gemma spots the ball nestled high in the branches of a tree several metres to her left. Her heart races. Mommy and Daddy had told her this might happen, but preferably not in front of Muggles. Something about a secret statue or something. What if she gets in trouble? She runs toward the tree, hoping to retrieve the ball before people can speculate too much about what happened.
Gemma half-jumps, half-falls from the lowest branch of the tree, cradling the soccer ball. There are sticks in her hair, her jersey and shorts are streaked with mud, and her face is red with exertion.
Wen Zhao, Gemma’s mother, stands at the foot of the tree, cursing and muttering to herself. “All the effort it’ll take to Obliviate all these people. What is the Ministry going to think of us now?” Wen takes Gemma aside, face pinched. “You need to be more careful in the future.”
“Yes, Mommy,” Gemma says. “Now can we get back to the game?”
Wen glances back at the field, where players and parents have started to disperse in the confusion. “I don’t know.” She sighs, lifts a hand to her temple, and leans back against a tree. The bark of the tree collapses, revealing a hole big enough for people to step through.
MEMORY: Goal
[CRITERIA: defeat the NPCs]
It's a typical soccer field somewhere on the outskirts of Toronto, bordered on three sides by a forest of gnarly trees Small Muggle children, clad in red or blue uniforms, dart across the neatly trimmed grass, shouting, tripping and bashing into each other in a quest to get that soccer ball. The bleachers are crammed with parents, shouting encouragement at their little darlings to crush the competition, or staring at their phones wishing the game would end soon.
In front of the red team’s goal stands a six-year-old Gemma Zhao, unusually quiet and still. Her face is scrunched up with determination, her hands clenched by her sides. The score is tied. They must not lose.
The ball soars toward Gemma, kicked by an unusually long-legged seven-year-old. She jumps and lunges toward it, but it’s too high, too far to the right. She can’t get it. “Aargh!” she yells, mentally willing the ball away from the goal.
Suddenly the ball shoots out of her hands at lightning speed, and she loses track of where it is. The game stops and the Muggles look around, blinking in confusion. Finally, Gemma spots the ball nestled high in the branches of a tree several metres to her left. Her heart races. Mommy and Daddy had told her this might happen, but preferably not in front of Muggles. Something about a secret statue or something. What if she gets in trouble? She runs toward the tree, hoping to retrieve the ball before people can speculate too much about what happened.
MEMORY: Goal
Wen Zhao, Gemma’s mother, stands at the foot of the tree, cursing and muttering to herself. “All the effort it’ll take to Obliviate all these people. What is the Ministry going to think of us now?” Wen takes Gemma aside, face pinched. “You need to be more careful in the future.”
“Yes, Mommy,” Gemma says. “Now can we get back to the game?”
Wen glances back at the field, where players and parents have started to disperse in the confusion. “I don’t know.” She sighs, lifts a hand to her temple, and leans back against a tree. The bark of the tree collapses, revealing a hole big enough for people to step through.