WYRDYSM GAMES

It was a wintery day in Moscow. Snow covered the rooftops and streets in thick sheets of white. It was as cold as ever; 25 below freezing.

Yet this year, something was different. This year, the Russian Federation had reluctantly agreed to host the infamous Genetic Tournament in its capital city. And today, the torrent of people had arrived.

Every man, woman and child in the city shifted their gaze towards the Luzhniki Complex as soon as the flares were fired to mark the opening of the Genodome's doors. A primal, instinctive call rang out in their minds. They each knew that they had to get there first. They knew that there wouldn't be enough seats for everyone.

The streets rapidly devolved into a vision of the apocalypse. People shifted forth in massive waves, leaving their automobiles, their infants and their elderly stranded on the curbs. The weak were trampled, and the strong climbed above the shoulders of the rest to reach their ultimate goal. But the city police made no attempt to control the wave of people, a grisly sight though it was. They knew that this was a force of nature which they could never control. They knew that they would be killed if they attempted to intervene.

People of all races and nationalities flooded into the Luzhniki Genodome's vast interior space through its six gaping entrances. It was a rotund building, measuring a staggering 230 feet in diameter with a projected capacity of 401,280 spectators. High above, gigantic spotlights inlaid into the ceiling cast blinding white light into the seating areas.

And in the very center of the dome was a wafer-thin square of plastic measuring mere millimeters across, hermetically sealed inside a small glass sphere suspended above the crowd by thin cables. Tiny cameras eyed every movement of the bio-digital organisms on the square's surface, projecting their magnified feeds onto gigantic displays arranged inside the Dome in a circular pattern. Yes, it was this piece of plastic that hundreds of thousands of people would come to see every two years. It was on this minuscule square that the basal desires of all life on Earth would play out: the desire to eat, and the desire to reproduce.

Its ludicrous magnetism was such that nothing would deter the cascade of spectators, all dressed in winter clothing for the Genodome's lack of internal heating. Some spectators could be seen holding up signs with deep phrases like "EAT! FUCK! KILL!" and pictures of victorious swimbot champions from previous tournaments. There was a cacophony of coughing, whistling, cheering, crying and screaming... All the sounds of man could be heard, all his wicked sights seen, all his primal insanity felt in this condensed diorama of humanity.

After roughly half an hour, the doors of the Dome finally closed themselves, sealing thousands of people inside of it. A cavernous silence filled the building as the rapturous few inside waited for the announcers' voices to echo from the PA system...

"Welcome to the Luzhniki Genodome!", said one of the two announcers, an American speaking from an armor-plated tower above the seating areas. "I'm Harold Sussey-McCall, and we are broadcasting live from Moscow! A gigantic audience has gathered here today-- over 400,000 people, in fact-- for the greatly awaited Bi-Annual Genetic Tournament!"

The crowd went wild. So deafening was the noise that television broadcasters were forced to disconnect their audio feeds in fear of frying their equipment.

"And I am Pavel Volkonsky!", said the other announcer in a thick Russian accent. His frosted-over mustachio twitched as he spoke. "Yes, Harold, once again we are witnessing greatest gathering of souls in history of mankind! Men and woman from around the world have traveled thousands of miles for to witness this spectacle!"

On the eastern stand, a mass of roughly 20,000 yellow-shirted spectators stood up in unison and began undressing in successive waves as if to show their approval. Goosebumps formed on their exposed skin in the freezing cold. Such was their ferocious dedication to the sport.

"Yeah, it's gonna be a looooooong night!", Harold said excitedly. "Pavel, I think it's time to begin the first match of the tournament! Let's meet our four swimbot combatants!"

Am I doing this right?
I think I'm doing this right.

Edit: Anyways I could get my hands on some sort of guide to how the various genes actually work? This is driving me nuts!

Alrighty. I've got one!