Page 122 of Level Up
As always, travelling through Ayor’s Rest is a fun adventure, and here we get to explore places we’ve never seen before.
The best thing about this game, though, might be the community around it. The other players who love this series as much as I do. I’ve actually made friends because of this game—shocking, I know. Hell, I even met my girlfriend while we were both picking up the Deluxe Edition at our local store. If that doesn’t say Meant to Be, then I don’t know what does.
TL;DR: This is a great game and great addition to the series. Although it could use more Hadley.
— Review ofThe Stones of Ayor 4by@SconesOfAyoron Play’N (December 13, 2024)
thirty-three
not bad at the mechanics
Five months later
“You arebad at this game, huh.” I press my tongue against the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing as I watch Damien wipe the sweat off his palms and adjust his grip. Again. “I haven’t heard you swear this much since you tried to playCeleste.”
“I wasn’t as bad as you playingTunic,” he grumbles, shoring up his stance. “I learned so many new words from you.”
“‘Turdbucket’ is a perfectly cromulent word.”
“Guys, this foreplay is great and all, but we’re holding people up,” Pal says behind us, and I give Damien a nudge to get him moving.
He rolls his shoulder to shrug my hand away and takes a steadying breath before taking his swing. Normally, games don’t rattle him this much. Just brutal, unforgiving platformers—and mini-golf.
It was Malcolm’s idea to go mini-golfing, and none of us could argue because it’s his birthday, after all. Besides, it’s thefirst time he’s wanted to go do something fun since Evan broke up with him—right before Christmas, no less—so we’re just grateful to see him having a good time again.
Maybe too good of a time.
He’s at the far end of our current hole, chatting up a woman at the next one with a seven-year-old running around who’s swinging his club like a lightsaber. I’m surprised Malcolm hasn’t joined him in battle yet.
The woman casts us a harsh glare when Damien swears loudly after yet another disastrous stroke. I mouth the wordsorryat her, but Malcolm seems to charm her quickly, in spite of—or perhaps because of—his outfit. He’s wearing a goddamncravatand a vest over his shirt, with iridescent purple nail polish on one hand—and everyone he meets seems to love it.
I will admit, getting to know Malcolm since last fall—getting to know all my friends better—has definitely taught me a lot about just being myself. He and Pal have taught me to be weird and give no fucks. Damien has taught me to trust in and stay true to myself and not give into fear and self-doubt. And Victory, as always, has taught me to be honest with myself and the people who matter.
And now here we all are, watching Damien slowly descend into madness over mini-golf. All is right in the world.
By the time we finish the entire course, we’re all starving, so we join Elliot and Nathan in the restaurant at the front—they aren’t exactly fans of mini-golf either, but unlike Damien, they didn’t feel like submitting themselves to the torture of trying to play. Malcolm gets side-tracked on our way back, talking to the woman with the Jedi kid again, and joins us shortly after.
He walks up to the table with a dazed smile on his face. “I think I’m into moms now.”
Pal cracks up at that before they and Victory go up to the counter to order us all some food.
“I think the last thing that woman needs is another immature brat bugging her,” Damien says, clearly still bitter about the game. Which he lost. Badly.
“Oof, grumpy-puss,” Malcolm says mockingly, with a casual lean on one elbow. He looks over at me. “I hope his ineptitude with the various holes and balls and shafts of mini-golf isn’t a reflection of his skills in bed.”
Elliot snickers guiltily but Nathan rolls his eyes—we’re all used to Malcolm’s behaviour by now, though.
“I can assure you, he’s…not bad at the mechanics,” I reply, pinching my mouth shut when Damien side-eyes me. But come on, I couldn’tnotsay it.
“Solid three-and-a-half star review, buddy,” Malcolm says, patting him on the shoulder.
“I hate all of you,” Damien says, still glowering.
I lean towards him and lower my voice. “No, you don’t.”
“I’m justabout ready on my end,” Damien says, making some last-minute adjustments on his computer. He’s much more chipper today, compared to last night’s mini-golfing fiasco. “How about you, Oddly?”
I fix my headphones when they start slipping down and then give a nod and a thumbs up towards him.
