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MidReal Story
The Squid Game
Scenario:A game called “squid game” leaded by a boss called front man and me and my friends (btw are 13) we sign up to be guards that the guy on the phone said positively.and that goes to a big mistake.front man is abusive to the guards and for no reason to and btw about me(has abs.tall.has brown curly hair.has white blue eyes.an boy.cute.and btw my name is Xavier and my friends names are:Jack Noah Elijah and kyran.bye)
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Guard 2
He is another guard working within the Squid Game environment. He seems more cautious than Guard 1 but still maintains a firm stance in enforcing rules. His presence alongside Guard 1 creates a sense of dread among the players as they try to avoid confronting both men’s hostility.
Elijah
He is one of Xavier's friends who joined the Squid Game. He is analytical,serious,and strategic. Elijah often thinks critically about their situation and suggests plans to overcome hurdles. His logical approach helps balance the group’s emotions and impulsive decisions. He plays a crucial role in strategizing and ensuring the group’s survival in the unpredictable game.
Front Man
antagonist,male. He is the leader of the Squid Game. He is authoritative,manipulative,and unpredictable. Front Man exercises control over the game by making sudden decisions that impact the players' lives drastically. His methods involve psychological manipulation and physical threats to maintain order: he uses violence to enforce compliance and fear to govern the game’s rules.
I signed up for this game called "squid game" and the guy on the phone said I'd be a guard, which I thought was pretty positive.
Thirteen of us signed up in total; me and my twelve friends.
It was me, Jack, Noah, Elijah, Kyran, and eight other guys.
We had all been friends since the start of middle school and decided that since we were all turning thirteen, it would be a good idea to join this game together.
We didn't think it would be a bad idea at all.
We thought it would be fun.
Until we got to this place and found out what the actual 'Squid Game' was.
And then we found out who the Front Man was.
And after we found out who the guards were... well, let's just say that I'm very glad that we're all okay.
The guy on the phone had introduced himself as the Handler.
He gave us each a card with an address on it, and told us to show up there at ten o'clock the next morning.
When we got there, we found out that we were playing in something called the Squid Game.
It turned out that it was a tournament of different games, and whoever won would get a huge sum of money.
Each of us had signed up for a different role, which would be revealed once we got there.
I follow the Handler down a dimly lit corridor, my footsteps echoing against the metal walls.
My friends are waiting for me at their posts, pretending to guard empty halls while I slip away.
They're all wearing their masks, just like me.
The Handler's office door is ajar, which is unusual for someone as secretive as him.
Inside, his desk is cluttered with stacks of files, each one labeled with a player's number and a red stamp.
He doesn't look up when I enter, just keeps writing in his ledger.
My hands shake as I pull off my mask, revealing my face.
"You lied to us," I say, my voice cracking.
"These aren't just games."
The Handler's office feels too small, the air thick with tension.
I grip the stamped files in my sweating hands, my heart pounding in my chest.
Through the doorway behind me, I can hear the echoing footsteps of other guards patrolling the halls.
The Handler sits motionless at his metal desk, his black mask reflecting the harsh fluorescent light overhead.
His gloved hands rest on top of a stack of files, each one bearing a red stamp.
I flip through more pages, seeing the same stamp over and over again.
Eliminated.
My stomach churns as I look up at him.
He hasn't moved an inch, his eyes fixed on some point beyond me.
I can feel his gaze boring into me, even though I can't see his face.
Suddenly, he stands up and walks around to the other side of his desk.
He pulls off his mask, revealing a middle-aged man with cold eyes and a stern expression.
He opens a drawer and pulls out a contract, sliding it across the desk towards me. The paper trembles in my hands as I pick it up and read through it.
It's a contract outlining the terms of our employment as guards in this twisted game.
As I scan the pages, my heart sinks further into my stomach.
It's all here - exactly what we'll be forced to do to the players, how we'll be rewarded for our services, and what will happen if we fail to comply with the rules.
The Handler watches me silently as I read through the contract, his eyes never leaving mine.
When I finally finish reading it, he speaks for the first time since I entered his office.
"So," he says in a low voice, "do you have any questions?"
I grip the edges of his desk, my knuckles white against the polished wood.
The fluorescent lights buzz overhead, casting an eerie glow over the room.
I stare down at the contract, its clinical language describing "eliminations" and "disposal protocols" in stark black ink.
My friends are out there playing pretend guard, unaware of what we've walked into.
The Handler leans back in his chair, fingers steepled as he studies me like a specimen under a microscope.
The silence stretches until I can't take it anymore.
My voice cracks as I grab the contract and crumple its pristine pages in my fist.
"I won't be a part of this."
He doesn't flinch, just nods once.
"Very well. You may leave."
I shove the contract back at him and storm out of his office, slamming the door behind me.
My footsteps echo down the corridor as I hurry back to my post.
My heart is still racing, my breath coming in short gasps.
The pink guard uniform feels heavier now, weighing me down with its secrets.
I force myself to stand straight, gripping the prop gun tightly in my gloved hands.
Through the dark mesh of my mask, I watch as other guards escort players to their dormitories.
They're all wearing their masks too, pretending to be part of this twisted game.
Jack passes by me, giving our secret hand signal - a quick tap on his thigh.
I return it half-heartedly, knowing I can't tell him what I discovered.
Not yet.
The speakers crackle overhead, Front Man's voice booming through the halls.
"Dinner break in five minutes," he announces.
"Guards, report to the cafeteria for instructions."
I march mechanically towards the cafeteria, following our strict protocols.
As I step inside, the weight of my decision settles in, and I know there's no turning back.
I sit rigidly at the metal cafeteria table, barely touching the bland food on my tray.
Other guards chat through their masks, discussing their "eliminations" as if they're real.
The fluorescent lights flicker overhead, casting an eerie glow over the room.
I glance up, catching Guard 218 watching me from across the room.
He's different from the others - older, with a hesitant way of handling the players.
His eyes meet mine for a moment before he looks away.
I focus on my food, trying to ignore the knot in my stomach.
Suddenly, Guard 218 stands up and walks towards me, his footsteps echoing in the quiet room.
He stops next to me, his voice low and urgent.
"Storage room B," he whispers.
"Five minutes."
Then he slides past me, bumping into my shoulder deliberately.
My hands shake as I check my watch, wondering if it's a trap.