I'm creating this thread so people can call out props as they are resolved. We need to keep the sportsbooks honest!
Please try to only reply if you have a prop that you know has been resolved. For example, Brady isn't wearing a bandage on his hand and no one from either team has been arrested yet, but we haven't reached kickoff, so I won't add those comments yet.

This year, we're going to try running a football square for the top Pac-12 bowl game. We're assuming this will be the Rose Bowl, but we'll change it if a team makes the CFP.
This contest does not count toward our season-long Moderators' Cup, and even if you earn squares, you are not obligated to participate (you can click Decline on the page, and it will release your squares back to the pool for others to use.) Although, when you have a chance to win a sweet, custom pint glass, why wouldn't you?!

What is it?

Football squares are 10x10 grids that use the score of a particular football game to determine winners. The X axis corresponds with the last digit of the home team's score. The Y axis corresponds with the last digit of the away team's score. The order of the numbers on each axis is randomly assigned after all 100 entries are picked. You can read more about them here. They're commonly used for big games like the Super Bowl.

How do I win?

If your square matches the score (say you have Home 7 and Away 3, and the score ends up with the home team scoring 27 and the away team scoring 13), you win.

So it's just random luck?

Basically. It's like a raffle, where you increase your odds of winning by increasing your number of squares on the grid. It gives you a rooting interest in particular outcomes to hit your winning score.

So how do I get squares?

1. Everyone who wins one or more weeks in our Weekly Pick'em will receive 3 squares. You still have several weeks left in the regular season to make your picks count!
   
2. The last one standing alive in the Survivor Contest receives 3 squares. The last zombie(s) standing will receive 1 square 2 squares.
   
3. Any top 10 finisher in the cumulative Weekly Pick'em standings (who didn't win an individual week) will receive 1 square.
   
4. Remaining squares will be distributed by mod discretion for things like:
   
   • Submitting prop bets for our Bowl Pick'em. Check out examples from last year's.
   • Submitting original content in the subreddit
   • Running a weekly thread
   • Getting the Pac-12 Networks on DirecTV
   • Basically, contributing to /Pac12

What do I win?

Those with squares matching the halftime score and/or the final score will win a custom pint glass.
The top scorers in the Weekly Pick'em and the winner of the Survivor Contest can head over to rpac12.com to select their squares right now!

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Stathis stumbled, barely conscious. Hakara was still desperately flinging bolts of flame at the banshee as it stalked towards Stathis, confident of victory. She blocked a punch, more of her shield shattering away, now useless for protection. Another punch, this impact straight into her arm, bone crunching under the assault.
‘Child of broken sunlight. Child of broken faith. Soul as sweet as any of life’s riches. I shall savour your soul, then devour those left alive in this place. And then when the seal breaks, a world awaits me. That which raised me calls to me, so that I might ascend into eternal darkness.’
Stathis swung her fist, barely any strength lift. It didn’t even bother to block, simply taking the strike, then punching back, something snapping in Stathis’ shoulder, pain wrenching her into a scream.
A bolt of lighting cracked into them, halting them for a moment. With one hand still grabbing Stathis by the shoulder, the skull-head turned and screeched at Hakara. This close, it added to the pain and disorientation, rattling Stathis’ teeth, seeming to make her entire skull shake and throb. Stathis punched and beat at it without effect, fist striking without causing any damage. It gripped her shoulder tighter, crunching the bones together, Stathis groaning in pain, unable to break free, unable to even fall to the ground for a moment of surcease. The skull turned back towards her, their eyes locking, Stathis feeling herself falling into the red glow, consciousness wavering.
A roar sounded from somewhere above, something gliding through the darkness. The banshee squeezed harder, shattering Stathis’ shoulder before tossing her aside. She slammed into the ground, trying to land as best she could, rolling to minimise the damage, her arm in agony. The banshee answered the roar with a screech of its own, ice storm intensifying as it leapt into the air, flying into the storm. A burst of flame met it, heat meeting ice, exploding into steam as the clouds spun above them, stars still crazily swirling and spinning.
Stathis hauled herself up, every movement sending jagged spikes of agony through her arm. The banshee was faster than the dragon, but was having to avoid claws and breath. More of the skeletons were still advancing towards them, as Stathis forced herself to move, lumbering towards Hakara, biting back the pain.
More screams and howls came from above, as Stathis slumped against a wall. Janaxia was still where she had been thrown, limbs splayed, blood oozing from her wounds. Stathis made herself move just a little further, leveraging herself downwards, sliding down to a sitting position, checking for breath and a pulse. Weak and erratic, but there.
Above, the battle raged, flame fighting frost, the bass roars of the dragon mingling with the screeches of the banshee. Stathis slumped against the wall as Hakara ran over, flinging spells into the darkness and holding off attackers. Even at this distance, the heat from the dragon could be felt, a dry and fierce thing.
‘Hakara, try and keep them back. We just need to hold them off and hope the dragon beats that thing. And that Parth and Semari are still alive, wherever they are.’ It took all she had to stay conscious, everything hurting, watching the stars above whirl around crazily as the dragon fought, great spouts of flame scarring the sky. Gods, everything hurt. A flash of movement, one of the creatures attacking Hakara, clawing for her.
Stathis moved without thinking, her entire body hurting as she pushed off the wall, and slammed into the attacker, dragging them down, feeling the cold pierce her body as she grappled them to the floor, punching as best she could before Hakara turned and blasted them. As the body faded away, another roar shattered the sky, and Stathis finally sank into darkness, unable to stay conscious.
Soft warmth surrounded her, distant birdsong in the air. She rolled over, savage spikes of pain immediately pulling her fully awake. Everything around her was white and soft, thin curtains wafting in a gentle breeze, a pillow beneath her head. With a groan, she pulled herself up, trying to ignore the pain. Some kind of infirmary? A noise made her turn her head, seeing another bed on the other side.
Janaxia was propped up on a ridiculous number of pillows, body wrapped in an elven gown that didn’t quite fit, pulled overly taut across her chest. An elf had a bowl of grapes, and was feeding to them to her one by one, while another was massaging her feet.
One of them looked up, putting the grapes to one side. ‘Hauleni, thou awakens.’ He stood, moving around the bed and ignoring Janaxia’s sigh of disappointment. ‘Our healing items are scarce, but we cared for you as best we could.’
Stathis shifted, pulling herself up in the bed. Her arm was bound and strapped in a cast, with a light shift covering the rest of her body, bruises and gashes over the rest of her body, her shoulder flaring with pain as she moved.
‘Thanks. So, I guess we won? Did Parth and Semari make it?’
Janaxia answered. ‘Semari was afflicted with a curse of petrification, but was recovered from that with no ill effects. Parthenelle was somewhat singed, but has been in discussion with her kin for quite some time, I have not had the chance to speak to her. I didn’t know she was of such exalted position, were you aware?’
‘She’s an elf, they’re all nobles, aren’t they? Ever since the Empire fell, most of them have some kind of fancy title, guess that’s what happens when most of the population dies at once. Anyway, are you OK? The banshee had worked you over pretty badly when I got there.’
‘A few broken ribs and suchlike, so I’m told. Although I am concerned about the consequences.’ She pulled back part of her robe, revealing soft, brown skin, bandages placed over some of her injuries, a herbal scent coming from beneath, some elven brew at work. ‘What if it scars? Unlike yourself, I lack both the physique and the complexion for such things!’
Stathis sighed. ‘So Semari and Parth both made it through? That’s a relief. Shit, what about Hakara? And the dragon? Is that thing still around, or did the banshee manage to kill it?’
A loud voice came from the other side of the room, excessively loud. Lounging on a chair was a tall, well-built woman, wearing robes of bright crimson silk, layered fabric of different shades and tints, inlaid with gems and golden thread. The cat was on her lap, one elegantly manicured hand stroking it, a steaming cup held in the other. ‘The beast had a damn good go, but without that mist to distract me, I was able to defeat her. Not the most sporting of battles, but when there’s an abomination such as that about, then sport is decidedly lessened in importance, I feel.’ A gemstone on her forehead glinted with fiery sparks as she moved, allowing the cat to dismount before approaching. ‘Hauleni Stathis, it seems as though I have missed rather a lot in my enforced rest. As I will be here for some time, it would be a pleasure to talk further. Without the intervention of your cohorts, then I would have been preserved here for even longer, which would have been most inconvenient. But it seems I will be staying for some time, I do have a price to extract, after all.’ They grinned, showing sharp teeth, eyes gleaming with a touch of fire.
‘Thanks. Uh, no problem. So, you’re the dragon?’
Stathis looked her up and down – her eyes were decidedly lizard-like, and her nails could be claws, or she might just like them long. She didn’t look that distinct from an archmage, except for the slight heat haze that warped the air around her, the scent of scorch and ash wafting from her.
‘Indeed. I find this form somewhat easier when interacting with the, shall we say, lesser races. My true form seems to be met with awe; flattering, but often inconvenient. But since you require rest, allow me to recommend the baths – although fallen from their full glory, they are still something to be savoured.’
Janaxia tossed her hair. ‘Indeed, Lady Gintestarrak. Would you like to walk with me to the baths? The waters are indeed quite recuperative.’
A sudden look of consternation came over her face, swiftly masked. ‘Of course, Janaxia.’ She leant in close to Stathis and whispered. ‘How do you get rid of her? She’s indefatigable, and has already corrupted my cat to her cause! I have no desire to couple with some mere human, but she refuses to leave me alone!’ She raised her voice to a normal volume. ‘My thanks again, Hauleni Stathis.’
With a look of grim resignation, she approached Janaxia, who groaned and puffed her way out of bed, robe slipping enough to show that she had suffered some ugly and massive bruises, leaning more of her weight than was necessary on the dragon, before they made their way out of the room, Janaxia giving overwrought gasps of pain with each step, the dragon simultaneously trying to support her while maintaining as little contact as possible. The cat had clearly transferred loyalties, jumping onto Janaxia’s shoulders, rubbing its face against hers with a happy “mew”. Janaxia’s arm was securely around Gintestarrak’s waist, holding her tight, as the dragon shot a glance at Stathis, clearly hoping for some reprieve.
Stathis sank back down into bed, glad of some peace, despite having only just regained consciousness. Everyone had survived, it seemed. Hidden by the sheets, she channelled some of her power, the pain lessening, although the wounds inflicted by the banshee resisted her powers. Thick black marks ringed her arm, cold and sore to the touch, her shoulder aching whenever she moved, not set right. A dragon? Well, at least she might keep Janaxia distracted; between that and the lures of elven baths and massages, she probably wouldn’t be complaining too much. Although meeting someone she couldn’t seduce might make Janaxia stroppy – she was probably salivating at the chance to add a dragon to her conquests.
Stathis managed to lever herself off the bed, vision swimming as blood rushed to her head. Thankfully, the loose robe she had been dressed in was suitable to move in, as she managed to stagger into the hallway. If she supported herself using the wall, it didn’t hurt quite as much. But it still hurt a lot. With unsteady, lurching steps she managed to make her way down the hallway, finding steps downwards, with steam wisping out, hip and arm aching with every step.
‘Hey, you’re up! You’re moving like an old lady though. And not, like, a badass old lady, but the old and hobbling kind.’ Semari lightly skipped down the steps ahead of her. ‘Want a hand?’
Stathis expected Semari to support her, but instead Semari ducked in front of her, grabbed her ankle with one hand and pushed her shoulder into Stathis’ stomach, taking the weight along her back and simply lifting her, and then walking down the stairs. It hurt less than walking, but was somewhat embarrassing, especially as she struggled to keep her robe closed, and not smash her head against the wall on the way.
‘You doing OK? You looked pretty messed up when you got bought in here. I got turned to stone by that bastard mist. Woke up to find some elf rubbing oil into me, that was a bit wierd. If I’m gonna get oiled up by a stranger, they could at least find a nice buff one, or have asked first! Although gave me a decent rubdown, I guess. Took about a day to be able to move properly again. Dragon-lady seems nice, for a dragon. Hasn’t tried to eat Janaxia’s soul. Well, yet. Maybe she’ll get around to it later.’ It sounded as though she was hoping for this outcome.
‘What about Parth? Is she OK?’ Talking while being jolted and bounced around was awkward, her breath continually being pushed out from her lungs as Semari’s shoulder pushed into her.
‘Got a bit singed, but she’s been with Cerondyari. Doing, like, elf stuff.’ She waggled her hands, twisting Stathis around on her shoulders to let her see, narrowly missing smashing Stathis’ head against the wall. ‘I dunno, like, getting in touch with her ancestors and stuff? Although ancestors are normally, like, dead and stuff. Wait, Janaxia has ancestors, and Parth’s got ancestors. I bet you’ve got, like, shiny ancestors or something, all glowy and everything. That sucks, how come I don’t get any ancestors?’
‘You’ve got Kethys, you’ll probably bump into her again, right?’
‘Yeah, but she’s not all, like, cool and magical and stuff. She just uses poisons and stealth and stuff, and she’s not even dead or anything special like that! She just steals things. I mean, cool things, I guess, like the Sword of Roses, or the Eye of the Drowned God, but nothing that exciting.’
Stathis’ head was starting to hurt from being jolted around, as she tried to process this. ‘The Sword of Roses? That vanished over a decade ago, from the vaults of Astrivar. It was supposed to have been stolen by… Wait. Are you saying that Kethys is the Ghost Spider?! The legendary thief?’
Semari’s shrug was uncomfortable, a shoulder pushing hard against a broken rib. ‘Well, yeah. I thought you knew. But it’s not like she’s a super-badass dead wizard-knight, or the woman that managed to actually to get the twelve cities to actually talk to each other without bloodshed, or a bunch of super-old not-dead elves. And you know that old stuff is always, like, crazy powerful. At least, when it’s not evil and broken and trying to kill us. Kethys is cool, but not that cool.’
They descended to the bottom, stepping into a changing room, Semari carefully putting Stathis back down, before stripping off herself. The petrification didn’t seem to have left any obvious scars, at least amongst the various other healed scars and old wounds on her body. Well, if she was going to fight without armour, then it was scarcely a surprise. There were a few blackened bruises from the ghosts, but nothing more serious.
With her body complaining, Stathis managed to stand and remove her robes, and made her way towards the baths. She slipped into the water with an ungainly splash, soaking into the warmth, even as it stung her wounds. That Semari had some unusual contacts should not have come as a surprise, but the Ghost Spider? Explained why Semari had gotten into thievery, even if not her combat skill. Everyone thought that the Ghost Spider was dead as well, but Kethys must just have retired or something.
Janaxia emerged from beneath the water, sweeping her hair back out of her face, carefully arranging it around her horns, before settling herself down next to Stathis. Her tattoo was more obvious, the black lines seeming sharper and better defined than before, although it wasn’t moving at the moment.
‘Ah, you seem to be recovering well. Another scar, but I’m sure it will fade in time. Although I am rather concerned about the wound from the unicorn.’ She rose slightly out of the water, revealing her chest, water beading over her smooth skin. There was a puncture wound in her shoulder, mostly healed, marring her flesh. ‘You bear your wounds well, but I simply don’t have the physique for such a thing!’ She moved closer, almost pushing herself against Stathis. ‘Do you think it will scar? While a little wound might be dashing, this could be disastrous! Anything off the shoulder may simply be impossible to wear, due to that irksome beast.’
Stathis shuffled away slightly. ‘It doesn’t look that bad, I’m sure it’ll heal fine, and scars fade over time. How have you never been stabbed before?’
‘It seemed a rather unpleasant prospect, so I did what I could to avoid it. I can scarcely be blamed if enemies would rather target the foe in front of them! Perhaps invest in some better armour?’ Her eyes roamed over Stathis’ body. ‘Black and blue are really not your colours, I must say.’ She reached out, running a finger over a blackened bruise, just hard enough to sting. ‘It was very brave of you though, to charge in like that. It would have been nicer had you been a little faster to arrive, but I suppose you had other concerns. But aside from the thrust from that equine beast, my own wounds appear to be healing well.’
She stood, body emerging from the water, slowly spinning to show off her body – the bruises stained her ribcage and hips, a bandage wrapped around a thigh. The tattoo moved as she turned, shifting around onto Janaxia’s back and then returning to its normal position, as though keeping Stathis in sight. Janaxia posed there, apparently waiting for further comment, as Stathis tried to make herself comfortable, the stone scraping her bruises and wounds.
‘They look like they’ll be fine, I’m sure you have nothing to worry about. And you’ll still look good in whatever you wear, you know that. Where’s the dragon gone, did she ditch you?’
A frown crossed her face. ‘She prefers the hottest chambers, which are a little too warm for me, at least for long. She seems rather taciturn, trust be told – I was expecting her to be a little more open to friendship. Although Llewdu is rather more friendly, so I hope to breach that barrier soon.’
‘He’s a dragon-kitty!’ Semari yelled as she shot through the air, splashing into the water, before Janaxia explained.
‘Gintestarrak placed part of her essence into Llewdu – something akin to a witch’s familiar, but with rather more finesse and power.’
Stathis leant back, soaking in the soothing warmth, allowing Janaxia’s chatter to wash over her. Nothing seemed to be on fire, exploding or getting caught in an explosion of time, so it seemed safe to rest.

There are many strange events to bet on during the Super Bowl. For example, "Will Adam Levine be wearing a hat to start the halftime show?" If you were a high school buddy with Adam and knew for fact that he was going/not going to wear a hat, are there any rules stopping you from betting everything you had on the outcome? I've found one article that asks the question, but a definitive answer isn't given. https://unusualinvestments.com/insider-trading-legal-making-prop-bets/

Sports betting may be legal in 8 states, but an American Gaming Association survey indicated that 95% of the expected $6 billion to be wagered on Super Bowl 53 (up from $4.76 billion last year) will be placed through unregulated or illegal channels. 8% of fans (1.8 million) gambling illegally on the game will place bets with their local bookies, the balance will give their business to off-shore online sportsbooks. Super Bowl bettors have been slow to migrate to a legal means of wagering, just 2% of those who bet on last year’s game illegally are expected to transition to a licensed gaming operator this time around.
Howie Long-Short: With 15% of the country offering legalized sports betting and the regulated gaming industry only expecting to covert 2% of fans from grey markets for the Big Game, it’s worth wondering why gamblers are foregoing the legal avenues available to them. VSIN CEO Brian Musburger explained to me that “most states that are currently operating prevent bettors from funding their mobile accounts without depositing cash at a brick and mortar casino (see: NV) and others – like Mississippi – only permit mobile gambling on the premises. Once bettors can fund mobile sports betting accounts with a credit card and place bets remotely, you’ll see that number explode; you’ll see a huge surge in deposits. As it currently stands, in many states it’s still easier for people to bet offshore than it is to do it in a regulated environment.”
What can the states do to convert those betting offshore into domestic sports bettors?
Brian: It’s on the states to be competitive [with pricing]. A good sports bettor is always going to seek the greatest potential edge. If the states overtax sports betting and regulated markets can’t be competitive with the illegal markets, the big money will remain in the gray areas. Smart Money looks for prices if the state taxes are too onerous that will only keep money offshore.
Nearly 1/10 Americans (22.7 million) will place a bet on Sunday’s game, but you won’t hear Jim Nance or Tony Romo (they’re on the call) reference the line (NE -2.5) or oveunder (56.5). That’s because with sports betting legal in just 16% of the country, CBS has opted to avoid the topic. That could change by the time Super Bowl 54 rolls around though as upwards of a dozen states could add sports betting legislation over the next 12 months. Fox has the broadcast rights to the 2020 game. I asked Brian if he would expect Murdoch and Co. to include gambling conversation and/or commercials during the game broadcast – if 40% of the country were to permit sports betting within their borders?
Brian: Well, after reading JohnWallStreet’s column from yesterday about Super Bowl advertising rates, Fox should be incentivized to take ads from casinos. But back to the first part of the question, the primary rights holders should probably stay away from sports betting; you don’t want to alienate your audience and there’s a lot of kids watching the Super Bowl that shouldn’t be inundated with sports betting talk. However, many of the people tuned into the game do have money on the line. Those individuals can use their second screen for sports betting information and I think they’ll find an outlet like VSIN is more informative and of far greater utility to them, than what Tony Romo (or Troy Aikman) will provide.
The NFL wants prop bets (wagers on an individual/team performance unrelated to the game’s outcome) “restricted – or even outlawed” deeming them too vulnerable to fixing/manipulation, and has asked congress to “allow professional and amateur sports organizations to identify which types of bets simply pose too significant a risk to the integrity of sports and to work with regulators not to authorize them.” Good luck with that. As Brian told me, “if there’s a marketplace for it, it will continue no matter what the NFL Commissioner says; and there really isn’t even a reason for the league to be concerned. The amount of money you can put down on a prop bet would never be enough to sway a professional athlete; most sports books place a low limit on props.”
Fan Marino: Most the money that has been bet on the game thus far has been sharp money. That’ll change by Sunday as casual bettors begin to place wagers on things like the coin toss and national anthem. As of Thursday evening, the money wagered in Las Vegas has been split between the Rams and Patriots.
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As many of you know, I love to speculate. With the Super Bowl coming up, I'm reminded of one of my favorite things about it: prop bets.
For those of you unfamiliar with the term, it's where you water on specific events unrelated to the outcome of a game. Like who scores first, how the first score happens, whether an unusual event will occur, even how long you think the national anthem will last.
So I propose adding a little spice to the action. Which events or situations would you like to wager on? I'm thinking we could set up a side game to make it more interesting.
Some ideas I have are:

• First Civ to capture a city
• First Civ to lose a city
• " raze a city
• Which Nation-State will last the longest
• First Civ to found a second city
• " third city
• Last Civ to found a second city
• " third city
• First Civ to reach the Classical Era
• " Medieval Era
• " Renaissance Era
• " Industrial Era
• " Modern Era
• Last Civ to reach each Era
• First Civ to complete a social policy tree
• First Civ to eliminate a nation
• First Civ to be eliminated
• First Civ to own an entire continent
• Last Civ to settle a city on a landmass different than their TSL
• Top ranked Civ after one month
• First to a pantheon
• First to a religion
• All twelve civs to found a religion
• First Civ to use a nuke
• " to be nuked

These are all off the top of my head. Any other ideas you think would be fun to add? Submit them in the comments below!
Edit: Some people are making predictions in this thread. Please submit ideas for topics/events to wager on instead! I'm trying to build a list that we will all fill out later.

Author's Note: This is chapter 49 of the ongoing Reddit Novel, R-Virus. Parts 1-48 are at /rvirus. If you haven't read the others, DO NOT START HERE. Start at Part 1.
R-Virus © Ryan Smith
Is it over? -thor_play
48
Sarah
The World’s End Tavern is modeled after The Bannered Mare from Skyrim, down to the open fire pit in its center. Shields with sigils of cats line the walls. A table of overweight Drow elves watch us as we enter, then go back to sipping their Coke Zeros out of pewter steins. A half dozen paladins sit at the bar watching the TV. It’s playing the /rpg feed which is currently showing a stage adaptation of The Witcher 3: The Wild Hunt, where the audience makes player choices from home by up and downvoting choices written in the comments in a reddit thread.
To help me fit in, Scher has given me a pitch fork, dark dress, frilly white shirt, and dark brown vest thing. It actually looks kind of cute, though my hair buzzed short on the side does clash with the look a bit. Sort of Neo-American Gothic.
It’s the third change up I’ve done since I’ve been in /rpg. Scher insists that it’s to keep me anonymous, make sure I don’t make an impression on anyone. I kind of think she just likes having another woman around who is indebted to her enough not to refuse extended make-up applications.
Something I’ve learned: Nobody knows how to do makeup better than a transexual special effects artist that likes to dress in drag. According to Scher, when she first set up shop here, she only had a travel kit of mascara and became the “MacGyver of makeup,” whoever that is.
She isn’t dressed like a peasant, but is resplendent in a crimson “Melisandra-inspired” outfit, even if she’s sporting a little more latex cleavage than I remember Carice van Houten displaying in Game of Thrones. I’d expected raised eyebrows at her black Melisandre interpretation, but at least one paladin doesn’t seem to mind.
We take a table to ourselves and start scouting the room. I count four guys smoking pipes in corners with their hoods drawn, going for the mysterious Aragorn look.
According to Scher, the Ultrapost riddle has directed me here to get me into the Dice District, and there’s ultimately only one thing a person really does here, aside from dress up and have as much fun as possible.

This game’s not one of fun or thrones You’ll win or join the dust and bones.

“It’s a quest,” says Scher. “Got to be. And my guess is that it’s not collect 10 mushrooms or any of that other bullshit lowbies have to do. This ultrapost shit is-”
“Would you keep your voice down!” I hiss, as a barmaid wanders over to our table. “I’d prefer it if the whole subreddit didn’t know what I’m doing here.” I start to bite my fingernails which is a nervous habit that always emerges when I’m thinking hard, and that I have to stop because I’ve heard that it’s bad for your teeth, and then think how absurd it is to worry about something like that now. Nice nails, nice teeth. Problems from a world that doesn’t exist any more.
Scher orders a Bear Island Iced Tea and I take a Batmanhattan. Scher pulls out a palm-sized makeup kit and freshens her eyeliner while we wait.
“Is all this necessary? I need to get this done fast and get out of here.”
“You might be here awhile. This OP assigned you a quest and legit gave you a warning that you’ll die if you don’t succeed. That sounds like a high motherfuckin level endgame quest, and you can’t go do that shit alone.”
“True,” I say. “But I’ve got you to protect me.”
She rolls her eyes. “And now the bitch is begging me to power level her.” She lets out a long sigh. “What is this super post thing supposed to be anyway?” says Scher.
“Nobody knows exactly. But, the joke is that it’s like, the be all end all of reddit posts. Like so great your brain would just melt if you saw it.”
Scher looks at me with one cocked eyebrow.
I stare at her. “What?”
“That is the dumbest fuckin thing I’ve ever heard of in my life.”
I shrug. “Yeah, me too. But Apostolate found it and according to him it was serious. A weapon that could control the outcome of the war. Obviously it’s not an actual ‘post’ per se.”
“And that’s what y’all motherfuckers have been killing each other for?”
“Yup.”
“And what if you murder each other, and you get to the end of the hunt and you find it, and it’s a url, and when you put in the url, it’s just a link to a video of Rick Astley singin ‘Never gonna give you up’?”
“That… would actually be pretty brilliant. Like I wouldn’t even be mad if that’s what it turned out to be. But I don’t think that’s what it is. Apostolate was killed months ago, probably because of what he knew. I don’t think some random troll would murder someone for a joke. Plus,” I take a second to formulate my thoughts as the barmaid returns with our drinks in big pewter tankards, accepting mine gratefully. Times like this, a little alcohol goes down very nicely.
“There’s something about the riddles, the clues and the way they’re phrased, the OP’s decision to hide his cache in Patty Boleslav’s bedroom, that makes me feel like he’s making a point to us. The first cache was hidden right in the middle of this seriously fucked up situation, and it wasn’t an accident.”
I hadn’t even shared this idea with Ryan yet. But the hanged girl, the murders, her dead parents rotting in that one-story house - whoever created this geocache hunt knew about it, and he even knew about her pathetic letter in Michael Lasky’s yearbook. He’d taken a tragic, tortured girl in unending, inhuman agony, and made her a clue in a treasure hunt, then let her go on killing until someone who found the cache put a stop to it.
“Whoever made this hunt isn’t fucking around. He made it to fuck with us, or toy with us, or something. I haven’t figured it out yet, but trust me when I tell you that he isn’t just some troll.”
“When you say a fucked up situation, just how fucked up do you mean?”
I can see Patty Boleslav’s bulging eyes, black pupils in sclera that should’ve been white, stained the dark brown of burst blood vessels. “Just about as bad as it gets. And if OP thinks like I think he does, I’m going to bet that wherever the second cache is, it’s going to be fucked up too.”
Scher says, “Listen, I know this isn’t any of my business or anything, but I saw those videos with you and the OAG and that guy /rapeandpillage captured. Seems like you had way more backup and it didn’t go so smoothly. Are you sure you should be moving forward with this alone?”
“On the contrary, I’m absolutely sure that I shouldn’t be. But I have to.”
“Why?” says Scher. She cocks an eyebrow at me.
My Batmanhattan slides suddenly to the left and clatters to the floor. Across the inn, the barmaid glares at us.
Scher, looks at me. “That was clumsy,” she says.
“That wasn’t me.” I move around the bench and pick up the tankard.
“What do you mean it wasn’t you?”
“I mean I didn’t touch the cup. It moved on its own.”
“Unless the virus introduced telekinesis or that plate had a reddit account, no, Easy, it didn’t. You must have bumped the table by accident.”
I take a closer look at what’s left of my drink, but it’s just a normal drinking stein, except that someone had scraped off an old logo so it didn’t break continuity. I half expected to find a piece of invisible fishing line taped to it, and to hear a gang of kids sniggering.
And I feel a slight pang of recognition. Ryan would play pranks on me sometimes. Nothing malicious. Once, I sat down at my desk and moved the mouse to wake up my computer, but nothing happened. After confirming my computer was on and trying again, I lifted the mouse to find a sticky note with “LOL OWNED” taped over the sensor.
But, Ryan didn’t emerge laughing now, and if I didn’t figure something out, he never would.
In the distance, a horn sounds. One long, low blast. All around, the paladins, Drow, Aragorns, all lift their heads and stare at the door.
Scher says. “One blast, raiders returning.”
Then a second blast. This time, a hush falls over everyone in the bar, and their eyes turn toward the door. The bartender has frozen in the middle of filling a mug of ale. The dim noise of the TV playing the /rpg feed is the only noise in the tavern. The paladin at the bar lays a careful hand on the pommel of his hammer.
“What is every-” I say, but Scher shushes me.
The seconds pass. Everyone silent, expectant. Someone mutes the TV. The patrons turn to each other as if asking a question that only I am not privy to. Then, after a beat, a barbarian tosses back a mug, gives a loud belch, and pulls a gigantic plastic axe off of his back. “Let’s go kill some orcs!”
The rest of the group cheers and a dozen fighters charge out the door after him, unholstering whatever weapons they have.
Scher’s face splits into a grin. “Okay kid, you wanted to know what we do in /rpg. Let’s get you a level up.”
“Wait, what? I still don’t understa--”
Scher races around the table, grabbing my wrist and dragging me out the door, thrusting my pitchfork into my hands.
.
.
.
Z
By the next day, the swelling in my face has gone down enough to make me look human again, though my wrists are still raw and sore from the cuffs, but my karma buff has never felt more useful.
I spent the night on a cot in Eon’s quarters, one of the loft suites, just down the hall from Salt’s penthouse. It’s the r&p equivalent of a corner office. Like Salt’s room, the place is lavishly outfitted with a decadent fireplace, rich mahogany floors, crown moulding, and chandeliered lighting. It’s a room made for bearskin rugs and leather armchairs, but Eon keeps the place spartan. A bed, a cot for me, a chair and a small table to eat at, and a closet full of unworn clothes. It feels like a hermit’s guest room. Often cleaned, but seldom occupied.
There’s a knock at the door and Eon sits up at once. “Come in.”
I doubt either of us slept last night. This uneasy cease-fire between us doesn’t allow for that much trust, but it’s apparently important to Eon that he at least pretend to.
When the door opens, a young man in a green jumpsuit enters pushing a cart with a tray, thermos, and a cast iron skillet on a hot pad.
“Just put it on the table, Roth.”
I look him up and down. He’s a teenager with a smattering of acne across his forehead, beaming as he places everything on the table and sets it for two.
Roth says, “Morning, sir. Fresh eggs, toast, coffee, and I took the liberty of bringing the morning paper.” He finishes, brandishing a rolled up copy of Frontpage Today.
Eon takes the paper and unfolds it on the table, poring over the headlines with pursed lips. “Thank you, Roth. That’ll be all.”
Roth gives us both a wide smile and backs the cart out of the door.
“What the fuck was that?”
“That’s Roth.”
“Yeah. Why was he bringing you breakfast in a green jumpsuit?”
“Green means he’s low threat. Low karma.”
“He’s a prisoner here?”
Eon sighs, taking the lid off of the tray and piling breakfast onto our plates. Eggs on buttered toast, and a cup of coffee. It beats the hell out of the MREs we ate on the road.
“He used to be /allguardians. A battalion tried to jump us last May. Him and a couple yellows lived.” I brought them back to The Fortress.”
“Yellows?”
“Green, yellow, red jumpsuits, color coded to the threat level of the detainee. Greens can generally be trusted with freedom of The Fortress. Reds and yellows require a bit more supervision.”
Eon rolls his eyes, finally digging into his toast. It makes me feel less like a sell-out about eating now that he is. I pour myself a cup of coffee with extra cream and sugar just so I can remember what they taste like.
“Sleep well?”
I shrug. “Close enough. Doesn’t look like you can say the same.”
Eon cocks an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”
I point at my eyes. “Dark rings under your eyes. Afraid I’d make a dash for it while you slept?”
He shrugs and takes a bite from his own plate. “I thought you might try, but I wasn’t worried you’d succeed. One way in, one way out unless you jump off the roof, and there’s no way you’d get through that big fucking door, nor the barred and shuttered windows, and definitely not the thick cement walls.”
I know he’s right, but you’d never know this place was a bomb shelter from the inside. Every surface seems like it’s made of expensive lumber. Knowing O’rourke, it’s probably some trendy reclaimed oak from the deck of a decommissioned frigate or something.
I lift my coffee and blow the steam from the top and take a sip. When I speak down into the mug, it reverberates softly, distorting my voice. “Why are you even keeping me here? You can’t possibly trust me to help you after what I’ve done. And what I’ve seen you do.”
“Actually, Z, I do trust you, absolutely. You are one of the few people alive that I trust to make the best decision you can with the information that you have. I’ve been following your posts to the utopia project long before the virus. I know what and how you think. My mistake was that I didn’t give you enough of that information to make a smart decision. That’s going to change soon.”
“Oh yeah, how’s that?”
“You checked Frontpage lately?”
“I can’t. You took my phone.”
“Right.” Eon takes his phone out and sets it on the table between us, face up. I can see him navigate to the Frontpage news feed, and find a link.

Breaking News, /rapeandpillage destroy /aww. 30+ redditors slain. Animals slaughtered in their pens.

I look up at Eon and rub my eyes. “That… can’t be right.”
Eon clicks the link and an article replete with photos of bodies, human and canine, opens.

Two days ago, all communication out of /aww abruptly ceased. After receiving no response to several urgent communications, maxwellhill dispatched a cadre of /allguardian troops under the command of _vargas_ to investigate the blackout, who confirmed that the subreddit was massacred in a matter of minutes.
/awww is the first subreddit to fall since /minecraft months ago, but the move comes as a surprise to many in /allguardians that previously thought the subreddit safe due to its neutrality in the war. Its brutal massacre indicates an increase in hostilities from /rapeandpillage, and makes the peace talks between maxwellhill and violentacrez seem like little more than a political sideshow.

Eon swipes down slowly, photo after photo of dead dogs, dead cats, dead people. A woman with brown hair in a maroon sweatshirt, one arm outstretched, a spilled bowl of water in front of her. The guy with dreadlocks face down next to a bag of bullet-ridden dog food.

“I can confirm that this was the work of /rapeandpillage,” said _vargas_, “on account of how the people and animals here have all been raped and/or pillaged. It reminds me of how difficult it was to masturbate before the internet was invented. My family was strict Southern Baptist, and pornography was never allowed in the house, so I was often forced to resort to extreme measures in order to get my rocks off. For instance, I once cobbled together a semi-realistic fuck doll via assorted animal meats and leftovers from dinner. What I really needed to complete my Fuckenstein’s monster was a pair of cured hams for the breasts, but as I said, growing up in a strict Jewish Orthodox household meant that I had to steal these hams from my gentile neighbors, and…”

“Damnit, _vargas_. That guy is like the Bozarking² of this generation. There’s like zero continuity between his stories.”
“I’m pretty sure that Bozarking was the Bozarking of this generation.”
“What do you mean was? For all we know, he could just be another of Bozarking’s pseudonyms. They have similar styles.”
“Doubtful, Bozarking died in /duelingcorner before the sub was outlawed.”
Eon puts down the phone and looks at me.
“Ok, so what about 4chan?” I say. “All those bodies… how on Earth could those idiots have possibly missed that? We left a cemetery of anons back there.”
“I frankly don’t think they missed a thing. This isn’t the first time something like this has happened. /minecraft and those assaults on Frontpage’s gate weren’t us either. But just take a guess who they blamed it on.”
“Horse shit. If that were true, you guys would’ve posted about it by now.”
“Oh yeah?”
Eon slides the phone over to me. “Go for it. Reply with whatever you want. Tell the whole of /all who really slaughtered those animals. Tell them what we did. Tell them we have you, if you like.”
I raise an eyebrow and lift the phone. Android, like mine. I tap the screen and the reply box opens, the keyboard swooshing up, the cursor blinking. “What is this, some kind of mind fuck again?”
Eon skewers a piece of sausage and egg and shovels them into his mouth. He’s not even looking at me.
I tap in,

EasyDarceeny, lainaoag, they are holding me at Freepage. They know about /rpg. Stay safe.

I hit send. The small loading circle twirls once, and then my post appears. In a moment, Sarah and Laina will get notifications that they’ve been tagged in a post. I trust both of them to intuit who sent it, and that Eon and the goon squad will soon be on their way. It’s not much, but it could keep them safe if indeed they’ve moved forward with the plan.
“Get that all out of your system?” says Eon. “Get word to your girlfriend about /rpg?”
“Sarah’s not my girlfriend.”
Eon raises an eyebrow. “I was talking about the OAG. Who are you talking about?”
Fuck.
Eon shakes his head. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. Why don’t you check your post again, just to be sure. But from a different account.”
He watches as I log in not from his account, but my own. I check the thread again, and scroll down for my message, but it isn’t there. I hit the option button and press Find, but again, nothing comes up. I look at Eon. He takes the phone back from me.
“That account you posted from, that was a throwaway I made to prove a point. It’ll be shadowbanned now. You think you’re posting, but you’re blocked instantly. All our people, our known affiliates, all shadowbanned the instant we reply to mod messages like that in any of the main subs. Took us awhile to figure that one out. Some of the poor bastards were on their main accounts. There one second,” he snaps his fingers. “Poof. Ghosts the next.”
“They’re banning you?”
“Not just me. All traffic from users associated with Freepage. That includes all traffic coming from here, anyone that’s active on our subreddits, and anyone that posts the truth about your friends in Frontpage.”
“Why would they do that?”
“Because, they’ve established themselves as a government, and they’re doing what governments do. maxwellhill, Grace Hall, and I’d suspect most of the top mods and members of the /allguardians. They’ve got control now. Our agents tell us that they’re collecting information on everyone in Frontpage, assigning ID cards.”
A cold, creeping recognition reminds me of the ID they gave me when Laina brought me into Frontpage for the first time. How Martinez and the guards at the gate had to wait for it to clear before allowing me into the city. Someone or some program in a dark room at the /allguardians HQ in Frontpage, sifting through my post history for /rapeandpillage affiliation. How they took my weapons. “Yes, but… those were safety measures. To make sure I wasn’t one of you.”
“Would you have given them that kind of information for any other reason?”
“I don’t know. I’d want to know why they wanted to know.”
“But you were willing to because of us. The great boogeymen of /all. Because of an omnipresent and shadowy threat that you didn’t understand.”
I bristle at this. “I understood enough. I’ve seen what you all have done. With my own eyes.” I can remember the woman in /washingtondc, who blew herself and her child up in the dumpster behind the Franklin School. I remember Eon strangling the last breaths from Patty Boleslav. I remember the look on Laina’s face as they dragged her out onto Route 42.
“Some of our citizens are responsible for that, yes. Let me show you what you haven’t seen, Z. Let me show you what Frontpage doesn’t want you to know about.”
.
.
.
Sarah
Outside, the bar patrons are facing down a group of shirtless nerds with green body paint. No more than a dozen on either side, with steel helms and what seem to be fur diapers. A few of them have neckbeards, but many are either too young, or simply can’t grow them. It’s like looking at those old fat guys that go to football games with their team’s name painted on their bellies, just 20 years early. One of them is carrying a crudely drawn banner that reads “On Your Pwn Head Be It”.
“Who the fuck are they?”
“Low level orc guild,” says Scher, reaching into her robes and producing a roman candle and a smoke bomb.
“How can you tell?”
“Damn girl, look at their gear. They ain’t even got any armor on. Just poke one of em with your pitch fork and we’ll get you the XP.”
“You want me to stab them with a pitch fork?”
Scher rolls her eyes and reaches out to flick one of the tines of my pitch fork and it wobbles like it’s made of jelly. “That thing’s a stage prop. You ain’t killing anybody with it. You’d only use a real weapon if the R&P’s was attacking. Those guys don’t fuck around. But they blow three horns for that.”
“Wait, we might’ve been attacked by the R&P’s and you gave me a fake pitchfork?”
She turns and races off just as the Orcs and the bar patrons charge toward each other.
The barbarian gets there first, whirling into the oncoming “Orcs” with a fantastic twirl that looks absolutely amazing and accomplishes absolutely nothing. The Orcs swat at him with plastic swords and he manages to tag two of them with his axes in return before dropping it, and yelling, “Agh, I am slain!” and popping a ketchup packet on his chest while dropping to the ground.
I pretty much immediately understand why Ryan decided not to actually participate in LARPing in real life.
Our tavern brawlers smash into each other, fending off the attacks with makeshift shields, and prodding at each other with nerf weapons.
As the melee ensues, a quartet of Orcs break through and charge Scher and I. Scher pops her roman candle and it starts spouting little harmless sparkballs, hitting one in the chest and sending the others diving in all directions. “Aw hell yeah motherfuckers, come get some!”
Two of them climb to their feet and get their shields up, advancing on her. The other looks at me, grinning around a pair of fake tusks that don’t look nearly as good as the type Scher does. He comes forward screaming, “Victory or death!”
I ready my pitchfork. “Um…”
In spite of my role with Patton’s crew in /washingtondc, I am not exactly a fighter. My goal as a scavenger was always to predict and avoid standoffs with the R&Ps, and determine when someone I came across was a real person, or another monster in a human suit. Being a quick study and a quiet, mildly karma-buffed person helped, and most of the time James and I didn’t have to draw on anyone, let alone fight them with sticks and spears. So a 20-something with green bodypaint charging at me screaming isn’t exactly my cup of tea.
“Victory or death!”
“Um...”
He closes the distance between us in a few seconds, and even though I know that none of this is real, I can’t suppress a thrill of panic at the prospect of getting smacked around by a dork with a foam axe.
Victory or DDDDEEEEEAAAAAA-”
“Um!” I lift the pitchfork and decide I’ll dodge out of his way and take a stab as he passes.
There’s a soft PLAP and the Orc slides to a stop in front of me then turns around, groping at his back. A plastic arrow with a wad of electric tape on the end dangles from his shoulder blade.
“Is that an arrow?” he says.
I walk up and pluck it from his back, bringing a few fine hairs along with it. He yelps then turns back to me. I lean around over his shoulder, and spot the archer, watching me. She’s slim, with a pale face and brown, mousy hair. She barely nods, unslinging another black-headed arrow.
“Aww man,” says the Orc. “What kind is it?”
“Um, the… fake kind?”
He takes the arrow, lifts it and stares at the shaft. “Level 1. Ugh, I can’t believe I got killed by some noob again.”
“Sorry. I guess.” When he hands it back, I read along the shaft, ‘Level 1 non-magic arrow.’
“What’s this stuff mean?”
He sighs. “The writing on it says what level and kind the arrow is. That’s how I know how much damage it does.
“How much damage does a level 1 non-magic arrow do?”
“5 health points.”
“And how many health points do you have?”
“5.”
“So why does it matter what kind of arrow it is?”
“It doesn’t it would just be cooler to get killed by a level 25 lighting arrow or something one time. Those have little sparklers on them. Listen, can you at least put the ketchup on my back? I can’t reach that spot.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Sweet. Thanks.” He fishes around in his loincloth and pulls out a packet of McDonald’s Fancy Ketchup.
“Uh, on second thought, maybe you should just do it yourself.”
.
When the battle is over, the paladin and a priestess run around resurrecting the fallen. I’m told this has to be done within a window of time, or the ’s character dies permanently, and they have to roll a new one.
The innkeeper plugs all of our names into his phone and shortly thereafter, I get a message from GMBot.

Congratulations on your recent victory!
You have reached level 2.
You may choose:
1x Class Weapon (Melee, Common)
1x Class Weapon (Ranged, Common)
1x Magic Item (Common)
1x Trinket Slot Item (Common)
or
10x Copper Coins
Please see your local Kingdom quartermaster for your reward. (This offer available at participating kingdoms only. See quartermaster for details.)

“Come on,” says Scher. She tosses the trash from her spent pyrotechnics into the roaring hearth in the inn while the other survivors make loud toasts at the bar and leads me out to a dirt path.
As night falls, we’re not the only ones on the road. A steady stream of travellers in full costume walk the road. A knight in gleaming silver, a Khajit leading a mule and cart. In the distance ahead, lights glimmer through the trees, and I can hear the muffled sound of music.
“I need to restock my spells. 25 copper is barely going to cover my reagents.”
“You got 25 copper? I only got 10.”
“10 for the battle, and five per head. You didn’t kill any orcs.”
“I almost did. But some archer girl shot him right before he got to me.”
“Man, I hate it when someone KS^3’s me.”
“I wouldn’t say she did that. She might’ve saved me.”
Scher snorts. “You cannot be looking at it that way. If some scrub ass Orc wannabe charges at you, you take his ass out. Don’t be waiting around for some other motherfucker to take your XP and gold.”
“I would’ve if you’d given me something better than a pitchfork!”
“You were level 1. You get a pitchfork. Those are the rules. And trust me, you don’t want to get caught breaking the rules in the Dice District.”
“Why? What happens? Do I have to start a new character? Or, no, let me guess, I have to spend a day in the stockade in the middle of town?”
“It depends which kingdom you’re in,” says Scher. “And how bad the offense is. Karma King might just dock you XP or gold. Other kingdoms are a little more… colorful. One guy was cursed and was only allowed to speak in Miley Cyrus lyrics for a week. The King of Deep Feels exiles the really bad criminals to the Lonely Wood. If they make it back by the next morning, all is forgiven. Nobody’s actually made it back yet. I mean, not all of them. And worst of all, The King of Googling Things sets your default search engine to Bing if you really screw up.”
I’ve heard of the Lonely Wood one time, on /wtf 6 months ago. Someone had posted a picture of a body, nailed to a tree, with its face ripped off. I’d thought that it was a fake, or some repost from /fearme, but apparently I was wrong. “He actually sentences people to that? That’s disgusting.”
“I know, it’s rough, but after a month, he lets you set it back to google.”
“Not him! The King of Deep Feels. That’s not fair. That’s… barbaric.”
Scher fixes me with a strange look. “Are you seriously surprised by this? Have you been living under a rock for the last year or something?”
“I mean… yeah, pretty much.”
Scher stares at me, apparently unable to decide if I’m joking.
“The metro in /washingtondc. Like literally underground.”
“Easy, if you haven’t noticed, the world is pretty fucked up right now. People kill each other. We’re under regular attack from /r&pg raiders that want to kill us for what we have. Electricity, food, clean water. I know our customs here seem like nonsense, but this place runs on pure, uncut, high octane nonsense. And it works. We’ve got food, shelter, an economy. When some guys try to steal from the /rpg royal coffers, or /r&pg raiders take down a kingdom, the big shots have to have a way to deal with that. Something awful, so people don’t do it. The King of Deep Feels might seem cruel, but his kingdom is actually one of the most fair we’ve got. So when I tell you to obey the rules here, I mean it.”
“Got it. I just… think we’re better than that.”
Scher sighs. “I hope one day, we will be again. But until then, we sit back, we enjoy what we’ve got to enjoy, and we spend the fuck out of our hard-earned copper pieces.”
A smile creeps back onto her face and as we come out of the other end of the forest, it’s clear what all of the hustle and bustle is about. A lake, littered with floating walkway rafts, bobbing gently as hundreds of roleplayers walk the paths and alleys between shops and bars and traders. It’s a bazaar of medieval delights, lit by torches and lanterns glinting off of the water. /rpg guards in full Lorica at every entrance.
“Welcome to the Keep of Deep Feels, Easy.”
1.
/rpg has settled many conflicts in this manner, quashing two separate rebellions
2.
Bozarking, sometimes referred to as “the Doctor Who of reddit,” gained fame in 2011 for this comment, and coined the term “nonsexual and silly.” Due to his sudden fame, the juggernaut soon after deleted his account, though rumours of his occasional reappearance under a different username have led many to believe that he is still out there. His legacy is best described by zebrake2010:

Bozarking......I was a Redditor then, too, before the refugees of Digg turned Reddit into an Eternal September.
Bozarking could appear in a thread about the Make-A-Wish Foundation giving someone a trip to Disney and turn the conversation into a tale about the time he did unspeakable things with a family member during a winter holiday in northern Michigan.
His presence lingers on Reddit, flashing in odd comments at odd moments. I have more than once demanded from a user whose comments made me particularly queasy if they were or were not The Bozarking, lurking now under new identity.
What's more, Reddit actually voted him user of the year 3-4 years ago. At the height of his power, his notoriety exceeded karmanaut's multiple identities. Strong was the Reddit with him.
I hope he has found peace.

3
Shortened version of "Kill Steal"; A term used on MMORPGs to describe the act of barging in to kill a monster (or other enemy) that another player had been fighting first and receiving the XP that rightfully belonged to the first player to engage the enemy in battle. KSer: one who KSes; KSing: The act of commiting a KS.
"If you don't go find your own monsters and cut out the KSing, I'll be fragging your ass next time I see you "

Here we are midway through the 2nd Madden16 season and the league is going full swing as teams race to get to the playoffs all over again. In these games, several rivalries have propped their heads and we take a look at the most exciting games/match-ups.

• Vote on the best 3 rivalries in the league so far, and let's see who people view as the most exciting or dramatic.

1. Packers/Bears ^{3-0, Bears}
Last season the Bears swept the Packers in dramatic fashion to make the playoffs and knock the Packers out. Before that game, QB Aaron Rodgers went down with an injury and Tim Tebow had to start in his place.
A season later, the Bears lost many pieces to retirement and free agency and were thought to be a shell of their former selves. But, with a win against Green Bay, the division race remains interesting and the Bears have a shot to take the division again.
2. Cowboys/Redskins ^{4-1, Redskins}
Washington has owned this series so far with a 4-1 record against Dallas, beating them three times last season, knocking out Dallas' season abruptly. For the most part, the Cowboys have been dominant against every other team in the league, but somehow the Redskins continue to curtail their plans.
Dallas has, however, won the most recent match-up, splitting the series for the current season. Both teams are poised for a second straight playoff birth, and we could see these hot rivals square off again in the postseason.
3. Jets/Redskins ^{1-1, even}
Last season's Superbowl matchup has garnered some interest as the NFC East took on the AFC east the season after. With the Jets winning in a dominant fashion in the big game, the Redskins marched right back this season and dealt the Jets their first loss of the season. The rivalry is young, but these teams hate each other.
4. 49ers/Seahawks ^{2-2, even}
This rivalry tells the story of the battle for the NFC West. Last year, not only did you have these two rivals playing each other twice, but you also had both running backs, Frank Gore and Marshawn Lynch battling out for the rushing title of 2013. The 49ers won in both categories, rushing their way to an undefeated regular season and setting the record for most rushing yards in a year.
The second season tells a different story, as Frank Gore's legs are starting to show signs of age, and the 'Hawks won both matchups this season putting the 9er's playoff hopes in sever doubt. With half the season still on the table and the Seahawks pushing for an undefeated year, it's hard to deny one of the most entertaining rivalries in the league.
5. Chiefs/Raiders ^{4-0, Chiefs}
Perhaps a smaller rivalry dwells here in the AFC West as the Raiders have fought through a ton of hardship to both make the playoffs a season ago, and failing to pick up a win over the dominant Chiefs. It was, in fact, the Chiefs that put a hault to Oakland's Cinderella story a year ago in the divisional round of the playoffs.
The second year has been a hard one for the Raiders who already have suffered a loss to the Chiefs once and are poised to square off again soon. Though the matchup has been one-sided, the Raiders hate Kansas City and always look to spoil their plans.
6. Jets/Jaguars ^{2-0, Jets}
This rivalry started early on as the Jaguars traded away their franchise back, MJD in return for a RB Chris Ivory, and a 1st and 2nd round draft pick. Beyond that, the Jaguars first season was anything but smooth, finished 8-8 on a tie-breaker with the Colts to inject themselves into the wildcard round. It was the Jets, however, that ended the Jaguars miracle comeback season in the division round, squashing a 5 game winning streak and sending the Jags home early. The Jets went on to win the Super Bowl.
The second match-up came in the next season as the surprisingly upstart Jags walked into New York only to get squashed back down by Geno Smith and the thunderous Jets, in a statement game. Though the series has been short, both teams have shown an edge when talking about the other, and we can bet they will play often going forward.
7. Bears/Redskins ^{1-1, even}
Another chippy rivalry goes to Chicago and the Redskins. Last season, after holding off the Pack, the Bears were able to get into the playoffs and make some noise. Getting to the divisional round they were outdone by the upstart Skins who held off the Bears onslaught and sent them home early. The Skins would then move on to become the NFC Champions.
A year later, the Bears got to play host to the 'Skins and handed Washington a tough loss early in the season. While both teams are still battling for their division, they are both still favored to make it to the playoffs and will likely see each other again.
8. Colts/Jaguars ^{2-0, Jaguars}
With the season on the line for both teams, last season, the Indianapolis Colts had to just beat the visiting Jaguars to enter the postseason and shock the league. The outcome, however, went differently as the Jags managed to pickup their 4th straight win and force themselves into the playoffs ending the hopeful Colts season.
A season later, the Colts and Jaguars both improved their rosters and played a second game, with the Jaguars winning a convincing game in Indy again. Though the rivalry is young, the stakes have been high, and as we stand right now, the Colts remain in the front seat of the division again, but with a rematch still on the table later this year.