"For example, each citizen game must end with either every citizen dying, and every player dying. Each citizen game, no matter how slim the odds were, had to be physically possible to beat. However, they couldn't just be trivial. Simple rules like that."

===Rafferty Bucke===

"Oh?" I asked, perking up. "Is that so?"

'From what I've observed, this game seems to shift its meta strategy every few rounds, as players adapt against the dominant strategy. During the first few rounds, players had no information to go off of, and were still exploring the game's dynamics. As a result, they all shot the ceiling to burn through their bullets and begin unraveling information, still too unfamiliar with the game to make a move as bold as shooting someone else.'

The mobster smiled, his mouth firm. "You let on more than you show. First day here, and you seem like a seasoned veteran." He spun his gun in his hands, toying with the trigger. "I don't want to keep playing against you."

"Are you sure? That's the reason you want to come after me?" I asked, my eyes twitching. The blonde's attention was towards a fly buzzing in her peripheral vision, but the old man watched, face encapsulated. "Not just because you want to get rid of someone else?"

The mobster pressed his button, then turned to the blonde. "Pretty sure."

'However, after player's have begun familiarizing themselves with the game, that's when they start shifting from defense or passivity, to offense. That's the stage we got out of, but I have a hunch we're now going to be entering the next meta: passing. As players scramble to shoot each other in an attempt to kill or steal bullet information, players will take advantage of it, and try to pass, in order to know the upcoming bullet spots. Then, players will take advantage of the passivity, and start being aggressive again. So, this is the cycle of dominant strategy within this game: defensive, to aggressive, to passive, then looping back to aggressive, and so forth.'

"Well, so it seems like the mobster is shooting me." I said, leaning in and pretending to press a button. "Don't waste your bullets, I've put my shield up. But say, the mobster dude is already so far ahead of the rest of us...

"Now would be a pretty good time to pass, wouldn't it?" The blonde's eyes widened, and she made eye contact with the old man, taking her hands off the table. The mobster stiffened, a line of sweat running down his forehead.

'However, that makes me wonder: at this stage of the game, is there still a place in the meta for shooting at the ceiling? By now, if you want to burn through bullets, the obvious choice is to shoot someone else. But if the only point of the ceiling option is to set the stage for the rest of the game and offer a viable strategy in the beginning rounds, why is it the source for such a bounty of information? No one would be able to successfully extract someone else's bullet information so early in the game. There's something I'm missing...

'But back to this round. The blonde could kill anyone if she wanted to. The mobster was overconfident, he failed to convince the others to attack me, and now he's at the mercy of her. But his plan was lackluster anyways... He's been playing so well so far, has he just blundered? I have all my shields, and could always bet on shooting myself.'

The time neared thirty seconds, and I analyzed the players. The mobster's hands were now shaking, his life now at the complete mercy of the blonde. She sat back, hands lying against her head. The old man however, had a blank face. As if... He had figured something out.

The old man was an interesting character. He was competent, but his actions moved with a fatigue clear of age. He seemed like a passive man prior to the game, but got serious quick. My guess–he was friendly at his core, but would push it all aside in these games for his own survival. My gut instinct pinged, and I made my choice last second, as did the blonde, who returned with a satisfied smirk. The only cause would be her selecting to kill the mobster.

Round 9
O O - Rafferty: Shoot old man
O O - Mobster: Shield
O O - Blonde: Shoot mobster
O O - Old man: Shoot ceiling

"You... Shot me?" The old man asked.

"Hah!" The mobster laughed, pointing at the blonde. "You fell for my trick! I knew you'd press the shoot me button at the last second."

"Damn!" She cursed. "You got me."

"Your face seemed like... It wasn't in deep thought. I kept questioning the point of shooting at the ceiling this late into the game, and thought you would've tried it. My gut was right."

He smiled. "Not bad guessing, boy."

'Yes... Shooting at the ceiling–though an unorthodox strategy, if used correctly, it can turn the tides of the game to your complete liking? What does it do?

'Manipulates everyone else's choices to center on you. You shoot at the ceiling once: everyone is confused; twice: everyone starts questioning the pattern; three times: people might start shooting towards you, wasting their own bullets, to which you can react accordingly with a shield. It's a risk of the highest order, but being able to directly manipulate how other people use their bullets is beyond powerful.'

The three of us all shot; a bang came from the blonde's, and the old man's. A red screen popped up from my hologram, alerting me I had struck someone who shot up. My screen flashed, putting on a display of the old man's gun. He had a bullet at spots seven and ten.

Rafferty: [O][X][O][O][O][O][O][O][O][][][]
Mobster: [O][O][O][O][X][O][O][O][O][][][]
Blonde: [X][O][O][X][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ]
Old man: [O][O][O][O][O][O][X][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ]

'So the old man's next shot definitely does not contain a bullet! That means the woman has both bullets eight and nine! If he continues to enact this strategy, well, he'll lose his lead. He'll only do it as much as he can, only up until he catches up. So next round he could pass or shoot, but if he shoots, it'll likely cause people to start shooting him next round, when he'd be passing. Maybe he'd use a shield? No idea.'

The blonde dumped her second empty gun into the bin that whirred out, and the conveyer of revolvers once again popped out from the platform in the center of the table, rotating a selection of dozens of guns kept at their sides, before one of the holders released the gun in front of her. The rotation ceased, and the platform sunk back into the table. She spun the gun in her hand, before putting it back onto the desk, mulling over her choice for the round.

I scratched my head, as I decided on my choice: to let the time run its course. And like that, the round ended.

Round 10
O O - Rafferty: Pass
O O - Mobster: Pass
O O - Blonde: Pass
O O - Old man: Pass

'It's just like I predicted. Now, the game has entered a passing meta. But if the old man keeps baiting our shots by shooting up, he'll definitely push the game out of this phase. But he realistically will only taunt our shots once or twice more, or else the lead he gains won't be worth the bullets he uses. Okay... But that means both the mobster and I have bullets eleven and twelve between the two of us. I know both me and the mobster's next shot is empty, but the blonde now has a blank gun once again, and her bullets can be anywhere from spots one, two, three, four, and six. It can't be eight or nine since the bullets are still in the woman's gun, it can't be bullet seven since that belonged to the old man, and it can't be bullets ten and up since they've yet to be shot. I have a striking advantage, but can't yet think my victory is ensured. This still is very dangerous.

'So what's the choice for this round? I know the mobster and Hideo's next shots are blank, so that just leaves the blonde. And if I know my next shot is blank... Should I try to taunt them into shooting me, then put up a shield, then attack on a fifty-fifty chance? No... Too risky. I'll pass again for now.'

Round 11
O O - Rafferty: Pass

Rafferty: [O][X][O][O][O][O][O][O][O][][][]
Mobster: [O][O][O][O][X][O][O][O][O][][][]
Blonde: [ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ]
Old man: [O][O][O][O][O][O][X][O][ ][ ][ ][ ]

"If we don't do something, this game will be stuck in a stalemate!" The blonde said, leaning forward.

"The old man's offering pretty enticing bait to pull us out of the stalemate, but I don't trust him to follow through with it again." The mobster said.

The man shrugged. "I'm simply trying to have this game progress forward."

The blonde rubbed her chin, squinting her eyes at the buttons. This time, however, the round ended quickly: we had all made a choice that wasn't passing. All four of us gasped, as if unable to believe the results.

Round 12
O O - Rafferty: Shoot blonde
O O - Mobster: Shoot blonde
O O - Blonde: Shoot ceiling
O - Old man: Shield

"What?" She asked. "How... How did you two guess?"

"So far, you've had a pattern of retreating strategies that other players find valid." The mobster said, picking up his gun. "So, I had a hunch."

"Same here." I said.

"Damn..." She muttered, hanging her head. All three of us shot; still, nothing followed.

Rafferty: [O][X][O][O][O][O][O][O][O][O][][]
Mobster: [O][O][O][O][X][O][O][O][O][O][][]
Blonde: [O][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ]
Old man: [O][O][O][O][O][O][X][O][ ][ ][ ][ ]

Her bullet history was reflected, and spots two and six were lit up. The mobster's eyes lit up.

'This is super, super dangerous! The next bullet could only be me or the mobster's. So the question is, do I shoot him, or put up my shield? Okay, what does it seem like he'll do?' I stared at him, but his face remained unchanging, his eyes bearing down on the buttons. 'If I shoot him... I'll be exposed if he shoots me. And if he has the eleventh bullet, I'm dead. I'm playing it safe. I'm putting up a shield. The blonde's next bullet is a bullet too, but she doesn't know that. She'll shoot at the ceiling, almost guaranteed. It's her go-to strategy to develop insight.'

The mobster sighed, gritting his teeth as he rested his hands, as if he made his choice. But the counter kept ticking down; at least one person was passing this round.

Round 13

"You guys all passed?" I shouted.

The mobster visibly sunk in relief, spilling over the table, laughing. "Oh my god... That risk paid off." His fingers shook, and sweat covered his forehead.

"You two would all be too invested in each other, so I figured I didn't have to worry about any sort of attack." The old man said.

'Okay, it all comes down to this round! I have to make a choice here and now!' I thought. 'Okay, okay. What should I do? What will the mobster most likely do? Pass again? No–he absolutely won't do that. It was apparent how much resolve it took to only do that once; he definitely won't take that risk again. So he'll either shoot me, or use a shield. Well, maybe he thinks I'll mimic his actions? I can't use my final shield, but if I shoot myself, there's a fifty-fifty chance.

'But... By now, no matter what I do, we both have a 50% chance. That's the hard truth. Do I... Just shoot and pray that... No. I... This is already nearing the endgame. Maybe I should just use my shield. What's the point of saving it if I die trying to conserve it? No... That's just pushing the inevitable for the next round, unless the mobster has the bullet. If he does, then next shot, I have the danger, as everyone will know my final shot has a bullet. I can't keep playing it safe, I need to take risks.' I made my choice.

Round 14
O - Rafferty: Shoot mobster
O O - Mobster: Pass
O O - Blonde: Shoot mobster
O - Old man: Pass

"...What?" He asked. "No, no, no! You–Why didn't you put up another shield? I was so convinced you would chicken out and go defensive again!"

Me and the blonde pulled out our guns. "I've decided I need to start taking risks. The game is reaching its climax, and I can't get by playing it safe anymore."

We shot. The blonde's gun banged. My gun was silent. This meant the mobster had the eleventh bullet. He gasped, ducking his head, the bullet grazing his scalp. He screamed.

"In the end... I also didn't take enough risks..." His chest rose and fell in rapid spurts, as he leaned back in his chair, blood dripping off the backrest. The hanging rifle lowered, aiming towards him. "You guys got me... Good job."

He closed his eyes, as the bullet fired a storm of bullets through his body, shattering the chair behind him, until what remained was a corpse torn with mangled holes. He slumped onto the control panel in front of him, blood pooling over the counter.

Rafferty: [O][X][O][O][O][O][O][O][O][O][O][ ]
Blonde: [O][X][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ]
Old man: [O][O][O][O][O][O][X][O][ ][ ][ ][ ]

But then, the chair holding the doctor shifted backwards, then fell, his body sibling into the ground, before it closed. The bin popped open, and the hanging rifle aimed, shooting the gun and blasting it into the bin.

"Huh?" The man asked.

"For every next death, a random deceased player's gun will be abducted, and their bullets will be available to be in the chambers for any upcoming guns."

'Oh... So that means the next time someone needs a new gun, it could be in spots one or six again. It makes sense that they'd do this, especially when only a few players are left, because by then too many players are dead, and there are too few spots any potential bullets that new guns can contain.'

"Another one bites the dust." She said, turning back to her buttons. "Now, what I'm worried about is you."

Me. My next chamber had a definite bullet. Three deaths in the span of an hour, and my mind began giving way. I sighed, making my choice and sinking back into my chair.

Round 15
O - Rafferty: Shoot ceiling
O O - Blonde: Shoot self
O - Old man: Pass

"What? What was the point in that?" The blonde screamed, bringing her open hands down against the table. "You know you had a bullet this gun, so why would you waste it on the ceiling?"

Rafferty: [O][X][O][O][O][O][O][O][O][O][O][X]

"It seems obvious." The old man said, adjusting his glasses, before turning to me with a look of understanding. "It's still your first day here. Regardless of how well you've played, it's... A harsh transition to dive into having to slaughter people for your own survival."

I shrugged, as the bin popped up, and I tossed my gun into it. "Yeah. I guess you're right. I can't deny anything you're saying."

"But still." The blonde said. "To live, is there anything you wouldn't do?"

The platform raised, and the conveyer of revolvers began rotating.

"...No." I answered.

"Then you have the right to keep fighting for your life."

The gun was ejected from its holder, landing in front of me, spinning a few times on its axis. I took it, the next round already beginning.

'At this stage of the game, it becomes easier and easier to deduce the position of the bullets. With the mobster dead, that means it can't be five or eleven. The only potential spots are one, two, three, four, six, and twelve.'

Round 16
O - Rafferty: Shoot ceiling
O O - Blonde: Shoot old man
O - Old man: Pass

"Oh... Okay." The old man said. "It looks like I can't continue my cycle of passing forever."

"We should target him next." The blonde said, leaning in towards me and nodding at the man's direction. I shrugged.

"Giving up?" He asked.

I sighed. "No... Just... Thinking. These final few rounds will decide it all."

But my mind raced, contrasting the careful calculation prior. We both shot, yet no sound emerged from either gun.

Rafferty: [O][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ]
Blonde: [O][X][O][O][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ]
Old man: [O][O][O][O][O][O][X][O][ ][ ][ ][ ]

'All three of our next shots were guaranteed to be blank. So what was the point of doing anything? Well, the game must still somehow progress. The optimal strategy  at this point would be to keep passing, but eventually, someone will shoot at the ceiling to break the cycle. The blonde... her bullet six has a 50% chance of having a bullet, for all she knows. That'll be dangerous for her.

'What's the point in keeping a stalemate? I'll break it before it even begins; I'll shoot up at the ceiling this round regardless.'

Round 17
O - Rafferty: Shoot ceiling
O O - Blonde: Shoot ceiling
O - Old man: Pass

"We just keep letting the man get away with his passing!" The blonde said. "Looks like we both had the same idea–preventing the stalemate from occurring in the first place by shooting at the ceiling."

"So what? You suggest we attack him?" I asked.

Rafferty: [O][O][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ]
Blonde: [O][X][O][O][O][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ]
Old man: [O][O][O][O][O][O][X][O][ ][ ][ ][ ]

"My next chamber has a 50% chance of having a bullet, and your next bullet has a 25% chance of having a bullet." She said. "What do you think?"

"Don't come so far just to give up." The man said, staring into my eyes. "This is the price of the Borderlands; you must survive so that the lives that it costs you aren't in vain. I will forgive you for taking my life out of necessity to survive, but I won't forgive you for taking my life then throwing away your own."

My gaze on my gun hardened, and I nodded. "Okay. You both are right."

'Do I trust them? What if they're both just trying to trick me? I still have a shield left... Maybe I should... Put up a shield just in case? No–I only have one left, I need to save it. I have half than a 50% chance of my next chamber having a bullet, so I need to take this risk. I have no idea if the blonde is bluffing or not, but I know that her gun definitely has a bullet in ' I made my choice, as did the old man who appeared to at least do so, but the round kept running. Someone was passing, and it could only be one person.

Round 18
O - Rafferty: Shoot self
O O - Blonde: Pass
Old man: Shield

The old man gasped. "You..." She smirked, setting her gun down. I squeezed my eyes shut, pulling the trigger, as the shield phased in front of the old man. I was still alive. The eighteenth time I had cheated death.

Rafferty: [O][O][O][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ]
Blonde: [O][X][O][O][O][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ]
Old man: [O][O][O][O][O][O][X][O][ ][ ][ ][ ]

The old man gasped, as did I. He must've had the same revelation: my next chamber has to have a bullet. This was because the fourth position on the blonde's was empty. 'But there's something even deeper: I know that the blonde's last bullet is in the sixth spot. So that means...