ML2024 Memo #4: Hour of Redemption

Back in the days of the Hubelino Classic, Heart was a name both feared and respected. Achieving both great wealth and athletic success from humble backgrounds, the development of a certain mythos around the Blackjacks was unavoidable, but of the quartet they attracted the most of it. 

So cool. I heard that they only say five words a day. Have you ever seen them smile? Nobody even knows where they’re from. 

Back then, they’d relished it. The proud and successful Heart never had to think deeper about themself. Every day could be filled with events and team meetings and fancy dinners and training sessions. Eventually, they could squeeze themself out of their own life. 

Fame and success made them feel whole, even as it made them unapproachable. Transitioning from the Herbotamia Classic to the Hubelino Tournament was just another step towards something better, more beautiful, more whole. And when the Marble League became the marble sports tournament du jour, they were sure of being able to conquer that, too. 

Except-

It’s been a good run, but… Maybe this is a sign to think about something other than competing.

…as sudden as a flash of lightning, it was all over. No more events to win or medals to obtain; the four of them going their separate ways, pursuing their own lives. On the surface they agreed with the collective mood; inside, they were adrift on a vast and formless emptiness. 

What would they do now? 

I don’t know. 

What had been the end goal of all this time and effort? 

I’ll do anything so long as I don’t have to be alone with myself. 

And so it had begun: the most painful few years of their life. Going solo was always an option, but it was too much of a betrayal of their teammates and the decision they’d made together to consider seriously. But Heart without marble sports wasn’t really anyone. They certainly weren’t the marble they’d presented to the world for the last fifteen years of their life, but there was no real alternative to them, either. 

Nowadays there were some hardcore Herbotamia Classic or Hubelino fans who complained about how much they’d changed. That they weren’t the Heart who used to belong to them. Some felt proven right by the 2023 relegation- they’d changed too much to be competitive. They’d never accomplish anything again.

“Hey, are you doing okay?” 

Oh. That was Radiance’s voice. They and Remus had dragged them off to get dinner, some upscale fast food place that was all over social media nowadays. It had uncomfortable metal chairs that caught the chill of Glidavik and lighting so dim it left you with concerns about the food, but maybe their tastes were just unattainably upscale nowadays. In any case, Remus was shovelling fries in their mouth Wolfpack-style, so it probably tasted okay. 

“Yes, I’m fine. Was I spacing out?” 

Radiance shrugged. “You looked tired. That’s all. Don’t let your food get cold,” they giggled. 

Both they and Remus were so young. Back when they were their age they resented being treated that way, of course- what was the difference between them and any other adult? Now, though, it was obvious, even if that youthfulness couldn’t be pinned down to any one factor. It was something you had or didn’t, and if you were zoning out and reminiscing on your life’s regrets with any regularity, you certainly didn’t have it. 

In fact, they’re so young that they’ve probably never even watched the Herbotamia Classic… 

That thought alone was enough to make Heart smile. 

Anyone familiar with the life of a Marble League athlete could easily assume the hardest aspect of that life – the countless hours of rigorous training, the stress that no experience could fully remedy, or having to deal with crushing disappointments 

Few ever talked about how hard it was to have medals to your name in any color but gold. Nobody talked about how hard it was to see those around you do what you couldn’t for so many years so effortlessly, as if earning the right to have your own gold medal was as automatic as breathing.

When the duo had taken their place for the event, they didn’t expect it to happen. After all, their careers were practically defined by how they were consistently good at what they each specialized in without ever being the best; why would anything suddenly change after so many years? If it had been nine years now with nothing golden in color to show, their legacies only written in silver and bronze, that was surely proof they were meant to never see the top of the podium.

And that was okay – but they weren’t sure if it was genuine acceptance of the fact or simply acceptance of a harsh reality that would only begin to hurt less if they accepted something.

“They’ve done it! They’ve beaten the record!”

On the last run of the last heat, those words were spoken. Momomo and Mo had bettered the record in the dying moments of Climbing, leaving no questions about where the duo would place in the event.

No words were spoken as they donned their long-awaited gold medals at the top of the podium, but the tearful glances they shared with each other said it all for them.

It’s about time you earned this.

Ah… What a night, Mocha thought, exiting the athletes’ village. 

Lost in thought, they only noticed the two sullen marbles sat on the steps of the building when a soda can clattering down the stairs alerted them to their presence. It was Rezzy, something of an arch-nemesis of theirs, sat beside a Hazer they didn’t recognize. 

“Hey, Rezzy,” Mocha laughed, still standing a few steps up from them. When Rezzy looked up and realized it was them their despondency somehow deepened, eyes creasing at the edges as they frowned. “Don’t you two sad sacks usually hang out with Billy?” 

Rezzy did not answer. Neither did the Hazer. A heavy aura of defeat surrounded them, as did a veritable collection of empty soda cans. “I’m Foggy, not Smoggy,” the Hazer said, but that didn’t matter to Mocha. 

“Can I be Billy?” they asked, sidling up. “I’m guessing you’re sad ‘cuz me and Fudge beat you hard, yeah?” 

“Shut it,” Rezzy snapped. “Alright, you won. Very special, great job, let’s all clap and cheer. Your prize is that you get to go-” 

Foggy fake-coughed loudly, interrupting Rezzy’s stream-of-conscious ranting. 

“Hey!” Mocha exclaimed, feigning hurt. “You’re no fun when you’re sad. Half the reason I liked beating you in funnels is because you were so confident.” 

Just as Rezzy was primed for a retort, it was Foggy who actually spoke. “Forgive me, but are you just here to provoke Rezzy, or..?” 

Mocha swiped a full can and hopped down the last few steps of the stairs. “Eh, sort of. I do have some actual advice, though.” Not like Rezzy would ever want to hear it from them, but…. 

“Go on,” Foggy said.

“If you convince yourself you’re in a hopeless situation, you will be,” they said, before turning the fence corner out to the exit road. 

“By myself?” Cloudy’s voice had shaken ever so slightly.

Misty had had the unfinalized event list and athlete assignments laid out in front of them. “I was discussing it with Coach last night – you’re more than capable. And look,” they had pointed down the list, “we’ll be together for two duo events first.”

It was a little silly, Cloudy could admit, being this anxious about individual events when they’d already done some in the Showdown and ran plenty of races in M1, but the League was different. And yet…well, there was no avoiding them anymore, especially since they were no longer the reserve.

They had looked down at the list, then at Misty. “…Okay.”

Run the event alone; stand atop the podium alone. Three years ago Cloudy had clambered up the steps with Misty by their side, and in M1 Smokey accompanied them, holding the champagne whenever Cloudy didn’t want to. But today, they stared out at the stadium, starry-eyed, from the vantage point of a gold medalist all by themselves.

It didn’t feel real. They were clumsier than usual going up the steps even with Smokey directing them up, but that was fine. There was always next time, they thought as they made their way through the interviews – interviews that Cloudy had badly wanted to skip, but it was courteous to humor a few journalists today. By this point, they knew better than to ask overly invasive questions, lest they end up blacklisted from interacting with the team altogether.

Misty was waiting for them at the exit of the press conference room. “Cloudy,” they gasped, embracing them as they stepped into the hallway, Smokey trailing behind.

It set off a small squeak of protest. “Misty,” Cloudy whined, making a halfhearted attempt to wriggle free.

“Sorry.” They let go. “I just…I’m just proud.”

“It was just like practice,” Cloudy deflected, twisting around to beam at Smokey, who was comparatively impassive. “I was ahead by a lot, right?”

“Three-tenths clear,” Smokey confirmed. “Well done.” There was an undercurrent of relief in their voice, albeit suppressed and hidden. Cloudy basked in the praise, waiting expectantly for more and receiving a flat stare instead. “Humility is a virtue, Cloudy.”

“Worth a shot,” they chirped. Misty smiled.

Smokey sighed, then prodded them forward. “Go celebrate,” they said. “Remember –”

“I’m representing Mt. Huaze, so act accordingly, et cetera,” Cloudy finished dutifully.

“Good,” said Smokey. They glanced at Misty. “Go on, both of you.”

Misty nodded, then their face fell. “Coach, this League…”

The lights hummed above them. It wasn’t difficult to guess what they were referring to – the situation had been barely rescued by Cloudy’s heroics today, but there was still far to go.

“I’m aware.” Smokey’s expression remained controlled. “But the important thing is that it’s not over yet, so I need you to focus on what’s ahead of you right now.”

Misty swallowed, as if they had more to say, then met their words with a determined stare. “Understood.”

Satisfied, Smokey turned away. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need a word with Foggy for tomorrow…”

“They’re not going to be near the reporters’ nest,” Cloudy quipped, giving a lazy glance towards the press conference room.

“South side, with the other two,” Misty said, and Smokey nodded a thank you before sweeping past them into the depths of the stadium. 

It was Cloudy who leaned into a hug with Misty this time. “You know, speaking of them,” they whispered conspiratorially, “Murky’s really homesick.”

“Don’t pretend like you weren’t back in ’18,” Misty countered. They sighed, tilting their head in contemplation. “Hmm, what to do…”

Cloudy laughed, rejuvenated by their new gold.

It’s a turning point, they thought happily. It’ll all get better after this, it’ll all settle down and stabilize… 

And then we can all go home together.

Credits

Arrivals, Departures, Soup

It had been a long while since lunch, Stynth reflected, while nodding off in their office chair. Bustling sounds of typing ebbed and flowed through the door of the large room, where a sign on the door denoted the room as that of belonging to the “Project Marblearth Server Admin”.

It had been four years since the founding of Project Marblearth, the initiative that saw creatives from around the world come together to share the stories of the many athletes around Marblearth, and lots had changed in that time. Of the nine original applicants, the team had grown so much, with contributors leaving and joining and ultimately sharing their own wealth of knowledge, talent and creativity. Stynth looked down their list of current contributors. In fact, only Phoenix and Piney of the original nine still remained, but the team itself had exponentially flourished.

A knock at the door prompted Stynth to look up, just as a marble rolled in, smiling. 

“Phoenix!” Stynth greeted them happily as they rolled over to the desk and plopped themselves down onto the nearby chair. “I was just thinking about how much the team has grown in the past four years.” 

“It’s crazy, isn’t it?” Phoenix responded, gazing around the room. The office was fairly large, with several boxes lining the wall, half packed with Stynth’s belongings. Phoenix frowned and continued, “You’re packing? We can sort that later, Stynth. Come have some cake- I’ve saved the large one for the party later, but I brought some in just for myself.”

The party. Such an exciting day could scarcely be so difficult to fathom, and yet, it was. Today was the anniversary of Project Marblearth, the day that marked four years of dedicated publishing. But it was also the day of a big change. For Stynth, for the Project as a whole. True, the past four years hadn’t gone without fault, there were moments when the desks in the large office building sat fairly empty, when progress slowed and the world seemed to slow down with it. When the communities around the sports in Marblearth got frustrated and emotional and it could get difficult for the journalists to work. But there has been so much good in the past four years.

It was early 2022 when Stynth had expanded the then small team to include management positions alongside themself with Edu and Phoenix as Managing Directors; Emp, Nonagon, and Smacg as Creative Directors; and Laurent and Piney as Design Directors. But that year had been a difficult year and at the end of the year the Project underwent a huge organizational change. 

Project Marblearth now no longer had an Editor-In-Chief, or any of the Director positions. It was an Editorial Board who oversaw the publication workflow, headed up by Stynth as the Server Admin, and Ghost and Phoenix as Board Admins. In that time, the Project had successfully released a RetRollSpective for each team, including addenda for many of them. Marbles who participated in the Marble Rally competitions were beginning to also have their own stories told, while Project Marblearth stood at the forefront of the event journalism game. Series such as Marble Memos and Out of the Rolling captured the details behind Marblearth sports events in a speed and standard that no other group could match. Travelling around the entirety of Marblearth, plane after plane, boat after boat, the writers and designers of Project Marblearth had visited numerous areas and attended many sports events.

“Stynth? You alright?”

Stynth was once more jerked back to attention as Phoenix sat, a look of mild bewilderment on their face.

“Wha- yeah?”

“I asked if you wanted to go out to eat tonight. Ghost is coming too,” repeated Phoenix, a light grin reappearing.

“That sounds lovely, thanks.”

“Awesome! Now, get yourself some cake from my office, and don’t worry about packing until after the party. I can help you then! I’ve got to go and collect the balloons from downstairs, so I’ll see you in a bit.”

Stynth got up as Phoenix left, and peered out the window. It was a beautifully sunny day, and the usual serene picture of buildings and buildings followed by the brightest greenery of parks and trees and fields that cascaded into the distance struck Stynth with a pang, to think they wouldn’t ever see it again. Marbles below the huge windows would look up in awe at the building, pointing up at the ‘Project Marblearth’ sign and stopping to take a picture of one of the most famous buildings in all of Rollkeepsie. 

Humming contentedly, Stynth set off to leave the room, noting the small brand new sign by the door which was to replace the current one, and would mark the room as belonging to the “Editorial Board Consultants”. Smacg and Edu, who held this position, were currently situated in the large office that belonged to the Editorial Board itself, but it would be nice to give everyone a little more space. More room for a couch, maybe a few plants. Perhaps a new coffee machine. But that wasn’t Stynth’s responsibility any more, and as they made their way out into the corridor, the humming hesitated as a wave of sadness overcame them once again. Just a little way down the corridor, Stynth stopped at the door that said “Marblearth Administrators – Phoenix and Ghost” and knocked. This sign, too, was new, though the original had been fairly similar – “Editorial Board Admins”.

“Come in?” a voice called from inside.

Stynth rolled in, smiling to the marble behind the desk on the left. It was an even larger room than their own, the home of the two Administrators who had until now worked very closely with Stynth on the running of the Project. At first glance, it was a fairly standard looking office. There was a large window letting in rays of sunshine that warmed the cold, crisp February air; two large desks with computers and folders and lots of paper; a large red couch adorned with cushions; pictures and certificates on the wall. But then, if you looked for long enough, you might notice the keyboard in the corner, the stash of chocolate in a tall shelf otherwise full of books, and a stuffed Llama named Blingo.

“Ghost! I was promised some cake?” Stynth said to the marble who had been sat typing at the computer.

Ghost laughed and pointed over at Phoenix’s desk.

“There’s a slice for you there, but I should warn you: it’s really good…”

“Challenge accepted!”

Happily full of cake, Stynth returned to the corridor and journeyed through the building. First through the Editorial Board office, which was currently empty, where sun basked the many desks lined neatly in the room, and then down some stairs and through the Contributor offices, which were quieter than usual, though the few remaining marbles waved at Stynth as they passed.

At the bottom of the building Stynth came to the reception, which led to a number of additional rooms which included kitchens, staff rooms and a large theatre which was used for meetings. Just as Stynth reached the door, a marble bustled out, laden with paintbrushes.

“Oh, Stynth! Don’t go in yet, I’ve just set some paint to dry by the door!” Piney cried in panic, almost dropping the paintbrushes in their hand.

“Oh whoops, need any help?” Stynth asked, and was soon sharing the burden of paint and paintbrushes back up to the artist studios on the third floor.

It was a couple of hours later that Stynth sat by the reception desk with Phoenix and Ghost, awaiting the arrival of the guests. A party to celebrate the four years since the founding of the project meant the arrival of many former contributors to the festivities, some of whom were flying in just for the celebration. As the time approached celebration time, marbles began to arrive and were let in, as current contributors rushed back and forth, engaging in final preparations. 

“Ghostly! Welcome back”

“Roilan, how lovely to see you!”

One by one, the building began filling up as the sound of music soared from the theatre, and after twenty minutes had passed the Admin team finally decided to make their way back to join in. Lights flashed many different colors for the group of marbles who were dancing in the center of the room, as groups of marbles sat on the many seats facing the stage area, catching up with each other. Phoenix showed Ghost and Stynth to a large table in the corner which was filled with cards.

“Some congratulation cards,” they explained, before pointing at a couple placed right at the front. “You’ll like these.”

Stynth reached for one, puzzled, and opened it.

Project Marblearth,

Wish we could have attended the party! Congratulations for your four years, and thanks for always doing our team’s story justice!

Here’s to the next year,

Momo (on behalf of Team Momo)

“Brilliant, Stynth smiled, their eyes glistening with a tear as they reached for the second one.

Project Marblearth,

Congratulations on four years of the Project.

Thanks, 

Jelle

Stynth stared at it in shock.

“Does that say Jelle?” a voice came from over their shoulder, as Ramen leaned over. “Impressive!”

Stynth beamed at Phoenix and Ghost and put the card back down, hardly daring to speak. It wasn’t too long after that Stynth found themself in the dance space, boogying along to ‘Here Comes the Swarm’ and then waltzing to a slow orchestral piece extracted from the Strixes Fourth Symphony, Second Movement.

It wasn’t until the music had once again changed to Rolly Marbley’s song ‘One Step, Your Marble’ that Stynth sat down, panting but happy.

A bottle was suddenly passed to them as Mesp, a recent writer and ex-JMRC friend of Stynth’s sat down on the seat next to them.

“D-Cider? Go on, I didn’t bring them just to be looked at.”

Stynth nodded and opened the drink, smiling still. “Thanks. What do you think?”

“Of what? D-Cider? Great. Balls of Chaos? Great. Marblemon? Great. Gaming? Great. Losing… not so great.”

“… the party?”

“Oh.”

Mesp paused, taking a sip of their own drink, before continuing. “A bit crowded, but enjoyable nonetheless.”

Stynth nodded in agreement, “yeah, there are a lot of us now.”

“It’s good though. A big change from when we started. When you started.”

Another marble joined them, holding a large slice of what was clearly the aforementioned party cake.

“What are we talking about?” they asked, taking a seat on Stynth’s other side.

“How much it has all changed from when it was started,” Mesp responded, eyeing the cake with intrigue.

And it had. Many new marbles had joined the team, while many marbles had contributed and moved on to pursue other things.

“I can hardly believe it’s been four years. It both feels like it has been longer and shorter than that,” Stynth said.

“I can imagine. But we all had more time back then, too,” Fouc stated wisely, acknowledging the slight volume decrease in Stynth’s voice.

“We did. And I’m glad I did it. I’ll never stop being glad, but I know that this is the right thing for me to do.”

The music suddenly quietened as Ghost called out into the room.

“Welcome everyone! We’re very glad to have you all here to celebrate how far we have come. It’s been four years, and almost 200 different articles released! And this is thanks to all of you, but it is also thanks to a very specific person in this room who started all of this, and who we would not be here today without. And it is bittersweet to call this their last day, but I want you to know, Stynth, we want you to know that we will carry on what you started with as much enthusiasm and dedication as you always did, and we will make you proud in the years to come. To Project Marblearth!”

The room erupted into cheers and echoes of “To Project Marblearth!” and “to Stynth!” as applause bounced around the walls, joy carried like wind into each crevice of the theatre and building. Stynth stared at all the marbles who now looked at them in a mixture of excitement and awe. On the other hand, Stynth felt a little bit embarrassed and both very happy and very sad. As a hush spread across the room once more, Stynth rose and looked around at everyone.

“Thank you,” was all that they could manage, but cheers filled the room once more and the music volume was turned back up. Phoenix approached a few moments later with a plate of cake as Stynth sat back down in silence between Fouc and Mesp, who both got up to dance.

“Ghost didn’t have to say that stuff, about this not being here today without me,” Stynth finally spoke, as Phoenix handed them the plate.

“It’s true, though. And not in a sort of soppy way, but you have made this what it is,” Phoenix responded, matter-of-factly. “And I’m not going to blow you away with ‘It’ll never be the same,’s and ‘I don’t know how we’ll manage without’s because we will- you know we will. But it’ll be… different… without you around.”

Stynth smiled kindly, before looking down at the cake. “It looks good.”

Phoenix laughed. “It is good.”

The party went on for another couple of hours. Greeting people, looking through cards, dancing, eating food. Eventually it was over, and the guests had left and the rooms had been cleaned up before the contributors all went home. It was just Stynth, Ghost and Phoenix left in the building, and they were all up in Stynth’s office, packing the last of their things.

“It’s difficult to say goodbye,” Stynth sighed, taping the final box together and taking one last look around the now deserted room.

“You know you’re welcome back here any time,” Ghost responded, while picking up the box and carrying it out. Stynth shrugged and followed while Phoenix gave the room an extra check over and shut the door behind them.

“It’s time for me to move on, though.”

The group carried the box outside to the car, before locking the building up and heading down the streets and through Rollkeepsie. Past Momo’s Dumplings, and past a tall water fountain they approached a small yellow building with a sign telling them it was “Rolliad Cafe”. Taking seats at a little table near the window, Stynth perused the menu with interest.

“They have more soup than last time,” they commented.

“It’s like they knew you were coming!” Phoenix laughed, looking up from their own menu.

It was after they had ordered a sandwich, soup and a sausage roll that Stynth fell quiet once more, gazing out of the window. This was it. No more planes and trains around Marblearth. No more rushing through crowds of marbles to get to the front, to hear for themself what athletes were saying. No more queuing in the rain for hours, hoping to get into team press conferences. No more panicking that planes had been cancelled shortly before the beginning of a Marble League, or worrying about how to get to the next one. It had been an immensely fun experience, and something they would never forget. But Stynth was glad, for once, that they would finally have a semblance of peace.

“You good?” Ghost enquired, putting down their glass of lemonade.

“Yeah,” Stynth said, quietly at first, but then more assured. “Yeah, I am.”

“We’ll keep you in the loop of course, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Ghost said, but Stynth shook their head.

“No, no. I’m not worried, I trust you all. You and everyone else. It’s just… bittersweet.”

Phoenix nodded understandingly, “Yeah, it would be. It’s been a long time and you put a lot into this. But hopefully you’re looking forward to what’s coming, too.”

“Of course,” came Stynth’s quick response. “I’ve a plane to catch tomorrow, and I’m going to visit my family and teach some music and I’ll have time to do all the things I enjoy.

“And I’ve wanted to do this for a while. You know that. I did so much but I’m just ready to move on now. But I’m keen that both the server and the Project could be active without my involvement, and that I could pass the torch to a team not only prepared and willing, but eager to continue the work I started. For all the stories we’ve created to build the world of Marblearth, the most important thing is that we’ve had fun doing so. And I hope that you will all continue exploring that fun well into the future.”

As Stynth spoke, the sandwich and sausage rolls had arrived, though neither Ghost nor Phoenix touched them yet, listening intently to Stynth speak.

“But it will always be difficult, I really have enjoyed everything I’ve done with you all”, Stynth continued, their voice beginning to choke with emotion. “I couldn’t thank you enough for working with me over the past four years to build Marblearth. I’m excited to see what you all do as you head into Phase 4 and beyond.”

Silence fell as the three sat there, engulfed in emotions of happy memories and new beginnings.

“I’m glad I got to share it with you,” Phoenix finally said quietly.

“Me, too,” added Ghost.

“But you’re just as engraved into Project Marblearth as you ever were, even if you’re taking a very well deserved step back from doing things,” Phoenix continued with a smile. “I want you to know that. Know it, remember it, never forget it.”

“It’s a weird feeling, getting to the end.” Stynth spoke to no one in particular.

“Resinine Onion Soup?” A waiter hovered above them, interrupting the conversation and holding out a tray with a bowl on it. Stynth smiled as it was placed in front of them, and looked back up at Phoenix.

“I don’t know if I like things ending,” they repeated.

“It’s not the end. It’s just the start of a new chapter.”

Credits

  • Writer: Phoenix
  • Editor: GhostDM
  • Release: 21/02/2025

ML2024 Memo #3: The Guarding of The Change

As the sun began its setting, three picnic-bound hikers began a slow-paced ascent up the side of the imposing Mt. Bonsel. To the right of their trail was its steep upwards slope; in the far distance, across swathes of rainforest valley, were its sibling mountains. The worst of the summer heat had passed with the early evening, but even now the three hikers kept to the shade of the trees whose leaves overhung the path. The red X marks spray-painted on their trunks were faded from exposure and time, but not yet gone. 

As they climbed further up the cleared path, a rocky clearing came into view. It too was sprayed with an assortment of eroded symbols, divested of their meaning and left to disappear. Abandoned construction materials laid around the site in haphazard piles. Yellowish dust coated corrugated metal panels and patchy growth grew through and around cracked tiling. 

“Safe to say we can write all this stuff off as a loss,” Choc mused, flicking their bottle cap back into the basket. “I doubt it’s worth anything, even as scrap.” 

“It’s nature’s now,” agreed Bonbon. “At least we can get up the trail.” 

Previously too busy with the refreshments to speak, Mocha let out a satisfied ahhh before turning to their captain. “Why’d you bring us up here, anyway?” 

“It’s a nice little scenic spot. I figured it’d take the edge off of what I’m about to show you.” Bonbon pulled their phone out and showed their two teammates the results of a recent poll. Narrowed down by team and affiliation, its results were hardly optimistic for the Chocolatiers: only 18% of non-fans believed they could qualify for the upcoming League, and amongst fans that dropped to a mere 13%. 

“Well, who cares?” Mocha declared, masking their discomfort. “Oh, we DNQed in the first winter League, so we’ll DNQ in the second one. Real genius-level analysis, here’s your award.”

“If we do DNQ, that’s more facilities we’ve built for nothing. Nothing against hockey, but…” Choc glanced down the slope to the experimental, half-done tarmacking, now slowly falling apart. “You don’t need to tell me how important qualifying is. I promise I’ll be giving it my all.” 

Bonbon nodded. “I’ll be ramping up training, too.” 

“So that’s why you didn’t bring Cocoa,” said Mocha, smirking. 

“We’ve already spoken.”

The trio went silent. 

“I want this to be a good year for us. I brought the two of you up here because I need you not to bicker when it matters. Got it?” 

Tall shadows cast against the rusty earth, the two waited before nodding in quiet agreement. 

“Great. That’s all I ask.” 

To: [REDACTED]@snowballs.org

First, congratulations on your event win! I’m sure I don’t need to tell you how much it means to all of us Blancouverites that you and your team have won Hockey, but I will tell you to enjoy it. You really shone there, as did your teammates, and I think it’s a great sign you were able to pull off such a solid performance together. 

Onto the main topic: I’d like to remind you about the goals and fears list I’d asked you to create prior to our next session tomorrow. There’s no right way to define either of those things, and it doesn’t have to be long. I just really want to know how you feel about the trajectory of your life and career so we can hopefully identify some themes and work backwards to see what’s informing your perspective. I’m a bit behind you timezone-wise, so if you need to discuss anything I should be around until late. 

Speak tomorrow,

(REDACTED)

Was it possible for two teams to be inexplicably linked together for an entire season?

That question hadn’t been on Ember’s mind at the start of the season, but it only took two events and a podium reclassification to make them ask it. Earlier today they asked themself again. There was no other way to explain so many of the team’s newfound achievements having Team Momo woven into the conversation.

And here they were, asking it once more – it was hard not to when they and their teammate went to celebrate their team’s first gold medals at a cozy cafe, and Momomomo and Mimo had coincidentally picked the exact same one as them.

“Is this gonna be a theme? Us and them?” Radiance whispered. Ember shrugged.

“Hey, gold medalists!” Mimo called out from the other side of the cafe. “Get over here!”

The two stared at each other before setting sights on the table closest to the window. Upon taking seats across from the duo, the first thing they noticed was a large plate of pastries.

Momomomo greeted the pair with a smile as they put down a mug. “Congratulations on the gold! How does it feel?”

Ember looked up from the plate and met Momomomo’s eyes. “How’s what feel?”

“Winning a gold medal,” Mimo blurted. “Or y’know, simply a medal you actually deserved at the end of the day– ow!” They were cut off by a strong nudge from their teammate, a look of disapproval following suit. “…anyways, not many get to say they won a gold, and now both of you can say you have!”

Radiance smiled as they looked down at their medal. “I feel like I’m dreaming whenever I look at this medal… I guess that’s to say it feels great! Never thought this would happen to me.” Their teammate nodded, a silent confirmation that their feelings were mutual.

The air between the marbles went silent. Ember’s gaze kept falling on the plate at the center of the table; the pastries stacked on the plate looked as enticing as ever.

“Do you two want some of these, actually?” Momomomo asked – they knew Ember was staring. “I’m not sure we can finish all of this, so help yourselves.”

Ember leaned in closer, enjoying the sugary scent. “What are these?”

“A Glidavikian doughnut of some kind?” Momomomo answered, unsure. “Either way, they’re good. Go ahead and have some!”

Seeing no reason to refuse their kindness, Ember picked up one of the warm doughnuts. A light drizzling of chocolate covered the golden brown pastry; the sweetness of it made for an interesting contrast to the pastry’s spiced flavor.

“These are so good!” Ember gushed. “Are you sure you’re okay with sharing?”

Momomomo nodded. “It’s the least we could do to congratulate you on a gold medal performance. That and we’d love to get closer to your team. Doesn’t hurt that every time your team achieves something, we’re close by. Maybe we were meant to be friends?”

Radiance’s expression turned confused. “Friends with us? This quickly?”

“Hey, I’m not saying no to seeing more of you two! Maybe we can see each other again whenever your team next medals,” Mimo remarked with a laugh. “Always seems to get us in the same area!”

“Well, when you put it like that…” Ember took another pastry and laughed between bites. “We’ll see you on the podium again, then!”

Glidavik wasn’t in any way short of ice, but it was nonetheless the venue for a gigantic city-centre ice rink for the duration of the League. With a gold medal putting them firmly in the top of the standings, the Green Ducks had decided amongst themselves that they were in a good position to take a break in the city, and Mallard and Bombay had headed to the ice rink with the hope of reliving one of Bombay’s fondest memories with Gadwall. But despite being at the ice rink, peering out onto the busy ice, breathing in the cold air, Mallard wasn’t moving.  

It wasn’t for a lack of trying. In fact, they’d put their skates on a good fifteen minutes ago just to be nowhere near the ice. That was because Bombay, who per their own account had “loved” ice skating before they and Billy had arrived, was only now close to finished with their long lecture about safety on the ice. 

“…and finally, don’t bring the blade of the skates too close to anyone. They’re seriously sharp; that’s how they keep a good grip on the ice. Understand?” 

Mallard had given up listening five minutes in. Eager to get on the ice, they nodded anyway. “Yes, I’ve got it. You can lead me onto the ice, if you’d like.” 

Bombay nodded and took Mallard to their side. They entered the ice together with a tentative grace that almost had Mallard believing their tales of former ice-rink glories. But all of that pretense quickly fell apart as Bombay started to flail and skid about on the slick surface, the initial momentum and stability of their first push having disappeared. As they drifted further towards the center of the rink and away from the rails, Bombay began to hold tighter to Mallard, pressing up until they could hardly move for the added weight of their parent. All of the bluster about safety and confidence had vanished instantly. 

“Didn’t you say you knew how to do this?” asked Mallard, exasperatedly trying to maintain their momentum lest they both lose control and fall onto the ice. Bombay wasn’t making it easy for them, slipping and sliding every time they focused on moving rather than keeping them in place. 

“Yes—well—that was a long time ago!” they protested, clinging even closer. “You don’t mind, do you?” 

Mallard grumbled under their facade of agreeable composure. “It’s fine. But…” 

Unbeknownst to them, Billy and Ducky had just returned from their shopping trip in the city with Fenrir and Sirius in tow. Their teammates’ flailing was as eye-catching as it was embarrassing, and it was impossible for them to have gone unnoticed. 

“All of that advice you gave me was for solo skating, right?” 

“…Yes…” Bombay replied.

“So, you’d probably be more confident if I let you go.” 

Bombay let out a faint whimper of hesitancy, but Mallard had already made their mind up. Darting away too quickly to be caught, they left Bombay to the mercy of the ice and the rink, to gravity and their own balance. For a brutal few moments they wobbled wildly in place, but it was just as Mallard had predicted—memory kicked in and Bombay was quickly upright and alright, if vexed. Meanwhile, Mallard was finding their own balance. 

“Mallard! What on Marblearth was that for?” Bombay chided, skating with remarkable grace but insufficient speed towards them, setting into motion a chase that skirted the entire length of the rink. 

Out of their view, Sirius turned to Ducky and flashed a toothy smile. “I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s great,” they gasped. 

“Just wait for the crash,” Ducky replied quietly, taking a sip of their steaming cup of hot chocolate. 

Credits

Party’s Over

It was a morning where Captain Sea was half aware and half asleep, muddling through dreams in which they struggled to stay afloat in the Seven Seas. All of a sudden, they remembered they were just on a bed. Through the window, the morning sun shone into their eyes.

Wait, is the sun up?! A thought turned to panic. I need to be at the Survival Stadium by dawn! I’m late!

There was no time to check a clock or a phone. Sea jumped off the bed, slapped on their uniform and sprinted out of their Kinikolu suite. An elevator was on the same floor, as if it was waiting. Going down the elevator Sea could still imagine stopping on some other floor, dreading how another athlete stumbling in would waste precious moments Sea needed.

To the Oceanic’s surprise, the elevator shot straight down to the lobby. Then, outside the elevator door, a barrage of camera flashes nearly blinded Sea. It was hard to make out what every marble said, but most were yelling “journalist” of some sort. Questions were shouted forward, nonstop, intended for “… the latest marble sports champion.”

Hearing those words woke Sea out of their daze. There were no more survival races left, because they won the tournament. Now they had to go back to the real world.

Sea pushes for the lead in an earlier Marble Survival 100 race.
(Photo Credit: Jelle’s Marble Runs)

It was the day after the Marble Survival 100 Closing Ceremony; noon had come through and slipped by. After handling a makeshift press conference in the hotel lobby, Sea had a whole afternoon to themself before the whole team would fly into Kinikolu and reunite.

Sea saw another text from Coach Neptune: If you want to kill time, go over to the Stadium and show the trophy off to our fans! But, looking up from their phone, Sea also saw the Marbuses: fleet upon fleet outside of the hotel. Each bus was packed with tourists leaving the resort; together, they were stuck in traffic on a road far too narrow to hold them all.

Sea knew these tourists were rushing off to the next big event. Oceanics fans make up a small minority of them. Maybe they’ll leave to attend a Marbula invitational race, or a regional marble sports tournament, or some secret third thing – events Sea had taken part in before, though maybe never again. The more they thought about the fans, the more nauseous they felt.

Sea took off again, but in search of a more familiar place. It was not much later that afternoon when they rolled onto the beach on Kinikolu’s other side that, in this final week, was also their secret hideaway.

The cool seawater lapped around them as they rolled out of land. Sea was treading water as they swam this far out from the shore – and then something jumped out.

“Guu-ahhh! Who in Triton’s name is this?!” Sea yelled while the foam dissipated. But then the Oceanics captain saw it was a blue marble, whose dark swirls looked too familiar.

“Hiya, Sea! Did you really think I wouldn’t congratulate you before you left?” said the former Oceanic in front of them.

“You freaked me out, Shore,” replied Sea. “And since when could you hold your breath underwater this long?”

Shore had brought towels, and both marbles were laying on them to soak up the rays. The two childhood friends bantered, mostly around Shore’s life after buying out ten acres in the Globular Archipelago. From saving up during their marble sports career, Shore now had property an hour by motorboat from the Globular main island and Dunduei.

The former Oceanic now fills up their day fishing for marcrabs, or watering saplings for a future grove; a life not on the cards until they submitted their resignation in 2022, right after Marbula One ended.

“I knew you would be mad at me, but we were writing letters and calling and it seemed fine,” said Shore. “Then you were the one who stopped reaching out in December.”

“Management got complicated, that’s all,” said Sea. “They were talking halfway during the Showdown about the new athletes I should scout out. It took up all my time. Everyone is getting along now.”

“I saw, Sea! I snuck up on one of the new members when they and the Coach flew in,” said Shore. “They almost burst into song describing training with you. But why are you acting so upset?”

“My feelings don’t matter, Shore,” said Sea. “The Survival trophy is a good way to cap a career. It doesn’t change how I’m at the beginning of the end. Everyone thinks I have one great season left in me. Two if I’m lucky. We can leave it at that.”

With those words, Shore sat up straight and looked right at Sea. “Don’t ‘leave’ anything from me after this long!” said Shore. “Why are you so happy to hide inside yourself, and assume the worst about everyone else?”

“We always had great teamwork, Shore. But you left first. The two of us can never win a Marble League together anymore. I still think about it.”

With those words, Sea sat back up and started to roll in the rainforest’s direction. Behind them was Shore, yelling: “Don’t guilt trip me, Sea! I told you why it was time for me to hang it up. I wanted a second wind in something that’s not professional sports. My time freed up to learn about diving! I still have my deep sea photography to show you and–”

Sea turned around. “It’s not a guilt trip, Shore. I just regret the chances we missed. We should be better remembered than we are. We were good enough.”

Shore bumped into Sea before stopping completely. “My marb, regret isn’t how I’d put it,” they said. “We talked to so many happy fans. We hosted a Marble League. We toured all of Marblearth together. We even won a Winter Special! How many marbles had our luck with all our opportunities?

“And nothing says it’s over for you! Both of us did what was best for us, Sea… we took two different paths, but each path still offers a freedom of choice after all these years. You can make new friends with these teammates. You can make today a new beginning. “

For Sea, Shore’s words brought back memories of 2019, when fans jumped out of the benches and scrawled “NOCEANICS” on their banners. But when was the last time Sea thought about that? The past few days had been filled with overtaking action that pumped Sea up; sights of Oceanics fans cheering during the trophy ceremony; and other athletes congratulating and toasting them.

Sea looked at their phone again, and what was now dozens of unread messages from Neptune and their teammates. Indeed, with each text conversation it was Sea who never replied back.

“I can see you’re right, Shore,” said Sea. “It’ll take time for me to really believe it in my heart. But I am trying.”

Sea heard something vibrate on Shore’s end. “Well… not to change the topic,” said Shore. “But how much free time do you still have?”

“Probably two hours before I have to meet the team. Why?”

“Well… I had this whole plan to take you out of your comfort zone. Ten minutes ago, I sent a text to a fellow athlete. Someone who really admires you. That must be a reply saying they’re here…”

Both Sea and Shore heard a marble holler at them and turned around. It was a marble clothed in pure yellow, gleaming as much under the sun as they did under stadium lights, the only racer next to Sea yesterday out the gate.

“Didn’t mean to sneak up on you like that,” said Yellah. “I just wanted to say… It was a great race with you out there. I wasn’t really familiar with your game.”

“Oh, I could say the same,” said Sea. “Funny how you’re such friends with my buddy before reaching out to me.”

“Well, as I told Shore… I don’t think that last race between us showcased the best of us. I swear the starting gate wasn’t aligned the right way.

“There’s a lovely stretch of sand and shore right here, so…” gestured Yellah to their surroundings. “Why don’t we say we make it best two out of three?”

Sea smiled. “Cool, it’s on.”

(Art Credit: Momoikkai)

Credits

  • Writer: Fouc
  • Copyeditors/Editors: Phoenix, Millim, Stynth
  • Artist: Momoikkai
  • Photo Credits: Jelle’s Marble Runs
  • Reference: Marble Survival 100
  • Release: 11/01/2025

Harmonic Resonance: A Final Interview with the Balls of Chaos’ Old Coach

November 21st, 2024: 9:20, Eccentric’s Apartment

Like many Balls of Chaos fans out here in Hunluen, I was shocked by the sudden rumors that sprung up this morning that the long tenured coach of our Balls of Chaos, Harmony, was stepping down. Did Harmony finally give up on our heroes? Did Entropy give Harmony the boot to try to shake up the organization? Questions swirled like the colors in my sphere, but I knew I had to get to the official press conference to find out more.

    The conference was slated for later today and it was the origin of all these rumors, though until this morning none of them seemed to be too impactful. I’m always the first to the scoop, and to get beaten to reporting on the big rumors was simply unforgivable! I glanced at the time… 9:20? The conference is at 11:00! I’m halfway across the city, and have to deal with rush hour Hunluen traffic… without a moment to lose, I darted out of my modest apartment. My breakfast-in-a-can would have to wait; on a morning like today, I don’t even have the time to spare on the time savers!

    No, no, no! I’m so incredibly late! If I ever see whichever hack of a civil architect designed those interchanges next time I’m on the road, I’m rolling them over! I finally burst through the doors of the press room, only to hear my rivals already deep into badgering Harmony with their drivel.

    “This is Arbitrary, representing ‘Chaos Concourse.’ You’re stepping down because you want more time to enjoy that new Momo Dumpling shop down 35.7th, right? I’ve seen you there. Why are you hiding from us?”
    “I don’t-” Harmony barely can fit in a word before another mic is thrust in front of them:
    “Fractal, ‘Citizen Chaos.’ Is it true that Disarray has incriminating photos of you and Pinky Rosa? Were you blackmailed to leave so that Disarray could become the new coach?”
    “Disarray? What even-”

    “Precipice. Inquiring minds over at ‘Revolution Now!’ want to know: Why are you bad at your job?”

    Finally, Harmony raised their voice. “Nope! That’s it. This was a waste of my time. To summarize: I resign from my position as the coach of the Balls of Chaos indefinitely. There will be no further questions at this time. Good riddance to all of you.”

    The conference room fell into a stunned silence as Harmony rolled backstage, and my heart sank. I’d completely missed my chance. But wait, what was that Arbitrary said about a dumpling shop down 35.7th (that fiend! How did they learn that first)? If Harmony can be found there, maybe I could try my luck there later…

November 22nd, 2024: 9:47, Eccentric’s Apartment

As the sun rose on another day, I had a new mission in mind. In the afternoon of yesterday, what we heard in the press conference became official: Harmony was out as the coach of the Balls of Chaos, while an unknown new face, Yuan Rong, assumed the missing position. Most of the press had moved on to badgering Entropy for more details. Good luck to them! I’ve tried it before, and they’d have better luck getting Imar to try using a Purple for once. Others have tried to seek out this mysterious new “Yuan Rong” individual, but with qualifiers so close, access to the staff quarters of the Chaos for All facility has got to be locked down. Instead, I’m going to live by something Anarchy told me long ago when I was just starting my career: “If you want the unexpected, don’t start by looking somewhere obvious.” It was time to see if I could find a familiar face in the new Momo Dumpling shop. This time, I’ll take the public skyrail.

November 22nd, 2024: 11:50, Outside Momo’s Dumplings

If you were to guess where 35.7th street would be in Hunluen, you’d be forgiven for guessing somewhere in the vicinity of 35th and 36th. But that’s not quite the way this city rolls. I got close to where it should have been, but from there, tracing the steps of the nearby marbles carrying take-out dumpling orders revealed the true location of the new restaurant. On the patio, sitting alone at Table #6 (ordered tables! What a foreign concept!), was a strange marble with thick rimmed glasses and… a fake mustache? But looking carefully, the clean and bundled streaks of color in the marble revealed this to be none other than Harmony, trying to stay low key. Not revealing that I had found them out, I approached: “Mind if I join your table?”


Harmony looked up, silent as I felt them stare into my soul. A single moment stretched into an eternity while I kept my friendly demeanor, revealing nothing. Finally, Harmony broke the silence: “Sure. I haven’t ordered anything yet, though.” 

Sensing an opportunity, I glanced at the menu and offered: “How about the Momomomo special? 4 extra large dumplings, fit to share, and I’ll cover it.” Another week of living off of breakfast-in-a-cans for me, but this profession demands sacrifices.

“A generous offer, Eccentric. I accept.”

What?

“I recognize you from the press group,” they continued. “I can tell my disguise isn’t fooling you, I know you’re here to ask me some questions. But you’re one of the only reporters to interview my athletes, and not have them ask me later to ban you from the facility. That’s worth something. So, I’m willing to play along. Plus, you just offered to buy me lunch. We both know who’s probably doing better right now; I can cover it.”

Flustered and desperately trying to still hold some cards from my rapidly deteriorating strategy, I protested: “No, please, I insist.” 

“Suit yourself,” came Harmony’s reply. “But let’s eat first, I’m starving.” Thankful that the Arms of Chaos turned out so well for me today despite my botched entry, I rolled inside to place the order.

(Art Credit: Harumi)

November 22nd, 2024: 12:24, Momo’s Dumplings Patio

    “Wow, these really are splendid dumplings. But while I finish, feel free to go ahead and start asking” Harmony finally said, after minutes of gorging from the both of us.

“Honestly, I was ready to do a lot of listening,” I replied. “You’ve been the coach of the Balls of Chaos since their inception. Stepping down now feels monumentous, even with their… subpar outings as of late. And at the press conference yesterday, it felt like you barely got a word in amidst all the badgering, though I certainly arrived late. If you’ve got a story to tell, something you think might still give some hope to Hunluen’s fans of chaos, I’d love to hear it.” I was treated to that same cold, evaluating stare I received at the beginning of this restaurant conversation. “So, to start you off, why choose to step down now, mere days from the most important day of the year?” Harmony broke their gaze on me and thought for a long moment.

“Change is chaos. Chaos must change,” they finally replied. “That’s the point I’ve been trying to drive home to the athletes for this entire year, practically. First, I needed to change how the teammates saw each other. Anarchy barely acknowledged Disarray until recently, and I had never put them together in duo events to bridge that gap.”

“The Marbula One roster,” I realized. “I lost sleep trying to figure out why we didn’t at least run Clutter in that.”

“I didn’t want to ease into it,” they continued. “That would open the door to walking it back after a discouraging start, and to keep trodding the same worn-down path. I threw Anarchy and Disarray right into the fire.”

“And they got torched!” I retorted.

“Oh, we knew that Anarchy’s strong suit wasn’t in those kinds of endurance events. Disarray was more of an enigma, but expectations overall weren’t high. My decisions were more long-term thinking. But now they know how to work together, how to train together. Anarchy wanted to prove they weren’t washed up, and Disarray still felt like a reserve at heart, especially with the lack of acknowledgement from their former captain. Tumult was always more diplomatic about teammate relations, but Anarchy’s still got the revolutionary spirit that keeps the Arms of Chaos flowing.” This certainly wasn’t news to me; having interviewed both those marbles on separate occasions, one spiked my heart rate far less. “They’re not happy with how they did together after all that work,” Harmony continued, “and I think that lit a fire under them. I’ve asked Yuan Rong to put them in as a duo for the upcoming Marble League Qualifiers, an opportunity I think they’ll accept.”

“So if getting the former captain and former reserve to work together was part one, what did the former coach do next?” I quipped.

“I’m glad you asked, but I’m almost done with this meal, and I really must be going… No, I jest. I’ll finish my story. It’s nice to speak at length for once without either getting shot down by one of the athletes or asked to fill a tabloid headline by one of your ilk.”

“Hey! The Hunluen Herald doesn’t associate-” I start, but another chuckle across the table stops my complaint. Why was Harmony the one laughing here? I’m not the one eating dumplings in a ridiculous disguise! Though as I glanced around at the restaurant patrons, the comical disguise almost fit right in with all the baffling wardrobes on display and the only marbles that stood out were the staff of the eatery. Harmony might be cleverer than I’ve given them credit for, in many of my deadline-influenced hit pieces…

Harmony continued, snapping me out of my contemplation. “The second part of this former coach’s plan was to turn our Primary rivals into… former rivals.” My mind went racing again, just as soon as it had calmed down.

“You can’t seriously mean fraternizing with those, those… snobs!” I exclaimed. And to think I was starting to give Harmony credit! But they retorted quickly.

“Let’s not blow that sound bite out of proportion, please. I don’t think a single marble on our team doesn’t enjoy the prospect of a face-off with our similarly colored competitors, myself included. But we’ll never succeed by just focusing on a single team to beat. Take the Savage Speedway GP from this most recent season. You watched it, yes?”

“Ugh, let me think… I don’t remember Anarchy doing well in that race, but I wasn’t assigned to that story. The details are hazy,” I mumbled, Hazers pun notwithstanding.

“Let me fill you in, then. Anarchy started near the bottom, with Aryp close to them near the basement. Anarchy struggled early, while Aryp made some great overtakes and found themselves in the top quarter. That got Anarchy’s competitive spirit firing on all cylinders, and by the midpoint of the race, they managed to pass Aryp and were sitting provisionally in third!” Harmony exclaimed. For the first time in our meeting, Harmony sounded genuinely proud. “But it didn’t last. On the comms, I was trying to help Anarchy find lines to gain ground on Siren, but Anarchy was too concentrated on trying to make sure Aryp didn’t pass them back. It almost felt like Anarchy was letting the rest of the field catch up, just so they could see with their own eyes that they were in front of Aryp. It wasn’t a high bar in the end; Aryp finished that race in 19th, but Anarchy had sunk back down into the bottom half looking for them.”

“A great success for us still, I’d say!” I exclaimed, between bites. Our plates were nearing their end.

“On an imaginary scoreboard, sure,” Harmony replied. “But for the Balls of Chaos to find new success, they need to move beyond just doing well enough to jeer at Team Primary. Leave them in the dust if it comes to it. Because if we’re ever going to win the Marble League, it’s not Secondary’s team we need to beat, but White Eye’s, or Quickly’s.”

Attempting to summarize, I started: “So you wanted to change their friends and their foes. Why step down, then? Did they disagree?”

“I don’t think they’ll ever totally lose their competitive drive against Primary, but overall, they seemed receptive to my ideas. And that’s why I had to step down, as a final strengthening to my point. Everything can change. And chaos must change. I don’t feel like I have anything left to teach that group, so I asked Yuan Rong to take my place.”

“I’ve been wondering who that marble is,” I wondered, “along with the rest of the press. They’re probably trying to find them, which is why I thought I’d try to find you instead.”

“Just a family friend,” Harmony answered. “They’ve always been my outlet for the frustrations the team has put me through, and they’ve had a fair number of criticisms of my methods. I figured they could give it a shot, and I promise you, it’s as hard as you think it is and then some. It’s a fresh perspective for both them and the team, at any rate.”

“Makes sense, but why now and not after the qualifiers?” I wondered aloud.
“Because we can’t react. We must act quickly and in ways that nobody can see coming. For that is the essence of chaos. Now, I think I’m done eating, and you very generously offered to pick up the bill, so if you’ll excuse me.” Harmony was gone before I even had the chance to fully process their final words to me. To act and not react… that was almost a roasting of my entire profession! Maybe Harmony was all talk, and their real goal was to get out of the spotlight fearing another dismal qualifier. But also, maybe they were onto something indeed. It was about time to head back to my apartment in the east, but something about Harmony’s final words still resonated with me. Why be predictable all the time? Maybe it was time to act first, in a new way. I’m sure I’d find my way home eventually, but why not roll north. Just to see what’s there. Should probably pay that bill first, though.

Credits

  • Writers: Mesp
  • Copyeditors/Editors: Phoenix, Smacg13, Milton
  • Artist: Harumi
  • Release: 04/01/2025

ML2024 Memo #2: War and Ice

Under fluorescent lights, Snowdrift and Snowblast wandered the labyrinthine corridors of the Moraine Domain full of bubbling, mutual excitement, silver medals glinting in unison. 

“You know, I feel bad it wasn’t Snowfall with me, but maybe it’s a good thing we get to be apart. You’re a fun teammate,” mused Snowdrift excitedly. “And now I finally have a medal!” 

“It’s a great feeling, isn’t it?” declared Snowblast, giving Snowdrift a friendly nudge. “Seriously, after MS100, you totally deserve it.” 

“I mean, you were amazing — I didn’t do much,” Snowdrift laughed dismissively, even as an irrepressible smile overtook them. Twirling and laughing and rejoicing in the joy of victory, it wasn’t troubling to admit the disparity in their scores. It all counted for the same. 

“I couldn’t have done it without you! It was you who gave me the strength to succeed, Snowdrift!” Snowblast declared abruptly, not a hint of irony in their voice as it echoed around them. 

Snowdrift stopped dead still, leaving Snowblast to briefly roll ahead. “Come on, that’s not true. You’re getting that from some cartoon, I bet.” 

Snowblast paused, diffusing the tension with a casual wave. “They did add our scores up.” 

Snowdrift didn’t budge. “Will Snowy see it that way?” 

At the other end of the corridor, Snowy darted back behind the wall from behind which they had observed the entire conversation. “They were talking about me,” they whispered. “Ugh, I can’t do this anymore.”

“Sure you can,” Snowstorm said. “Just go in like we planned, and say it… I’m proud of you.” 

Jump and Bounce didn’t even need to get off the podium to start celebrating. 

“So, this podium: it’s the podium of the last M1 season, but reversed, and we’re on top!” 

“So, we’re the Hazers?” asked Bounce, giggling at the thought. 

Jump nodded. “Yep!” 

“Okay, what would the Hazers say right now? Let’s think…” After a moment of contemplation, they forced their face into a steely grimace. “No, you can’t know anything about Mt. Huaze! Even if you ask nicely! You’re too boring to understand its secrets!” 

“Oh, very accurate,” giggled Jump, eagerly following Bounce’s lead. “Ah! Help! I can’t push this invisible block!” they cried, miming a vain attempt to shove an imagined object out of the way. Bounce joined them, but even between their combined “strength” it was futile. 

“It’s no good… Let’s start sneaking around and observing other marbles instead, hm?” laughed Jump, rolling backwards in an affectation of helplessness. 

“I call dibs on the Chocolatiers,” declared Bounce. “Oh, wait, if we’re the Hazers we should spy on the Speeders.” 

“Nah, if the Speeders have a fight it’ll be on the news,” countered Jump.

Unbeknownst to the duo, as they chattered about their snooping, they themselves were being observed. Yellow Eye and Green Eye hadn’t even needed to hide themselves to go unnoticed. 

“They’re winning by a ten-point margin, but they’re not taking it seriously at all…” Green Eye surmised, pouting. “So embarrassing for us.” 

Yellow Eye watched the two get further into the bit with a sneer. “So embarrassing? So what. We’re the ones who’ll hold it.” 

“Alright, so, here’s the plan —  sneak past them, leave them to their thing, and vanish like we were never there, got it? We didn’t get into their drink-throwing during M1, and we don’t have to do it now.” 

Still shrouded in the shadows of the stadium’s backstage, Quacky and Ducky exchanged barely-visible skeptical glances. “Sure they won’t try to involve us? I mean, y’said that their arguments were downright nuclear, yeah?” 

Mallard shrugged and waved vaguely, unknowingly narrowly avoiding whacking Billy square in the side. “It’s the best plan I have that doesn’t involve sending Goose in as a distraction, alright?” 

“I wish I’d just thrown the shooting section,” Quacky grumbled half-jokingly, just to be admonished with a firm nudge from Ducky, who coughed before beginning to speak. 

“Mallard’s right. This doesn’t involve us, and this place smells of paint, so the quicker we leave the better.” 

Everyone nodded. Billy, who had been tasked with initiating their escape, drew close to the exit onto the now-emptied out stadium field, and with great hesitation cracked the heavy insulated doors open. Though distant, shouting voices were already audible, confirming what Mallard and Billy had suspected from the start —  the Crazy Cat’s Eyes were in an all-out argument with… 

…the Savage Speeders? But they’d lost… 

All four Green Ducks filtered tentatively out from the backstage and onto the pitch, drowned out by the flinging of insults and unnoticed by either party. As they snuck past, they were able to draw surprisingly close, becoming party to the heated disagreement. 

“It doesn’t even matter what you say, because when Quickly gets ahold of you, Velocity, you’re probably getting booted out anyway,” laughed Yellow Eye, a meaner, crooked version of the crowd-pleasing giggle they trotted out during interviews. 

“You don’t know anything. Me and coach are cool, yeah? Anyway, I bet it’s your fault somehow, ‘cause I was cracked during training,” retorted Velocity, apparently at ease with the misfire that had stunned their fan crowd into silence. 

“We’re allergic to the fur you get everywhere,” Swifty added.

Speedy drew closer to Red Eye, who refused to yield at the imposition. “You won an event everyone knows you excel in. Congratulations. But I don’t think about you when I think about consistency.” 

Red Eye bared their fangs. “I’ll make you.” 

“Try, then, if you want to embarrass yourself so badly. Prove yourself to me.” 

Geez, Quacky thought. How do the twins even stay sane putting up with this all the time? And wasn’t it supposed to be the Snowballs?

It was a good day for a clear night. 

During the depths of winter, even the most southerly point of Glidavik experienced but a few hours of daylight each day. Tonight the northern lights were predicted to be out in full force, and Snowy wasn’t going to miss their chance at seeing them without the light pollution of Snoronto interrupting the view. 

The Glaciers had offered to take them out to the ice fields on Glacie’s old boat —  which meant the Glaciers coming, but that was a small price to pay for getting away from all the other teams, and especially Red Eye. They were mostly talking amongst themselves anyway, rehashing a previous conversation about something-or-other to do with the house. 

Despite the season, the waters were gentle, reflecting the sky’s assortment of colors over the deep darkness below. It was nothing new for either team to see the northern lights, but out here, surrounded by the perfect solitude of frigid waters with no phone signal or city lights to intercede, it was indelibly different.

Though they gazed out across the distance towards an imposing plateau of compact ice, Snowy remained vaguely aware of Snowfall’s presence nearby. Whereas Snowstorm would undoubtedly have the confidence to come right up to them, were they not conversing with Snowblast over on the boat’s starboard, Snowfall kept a good, formal distance. Observing their teammate out of the corner of their eye, they felt a sense of gratefulness wash over them. The Snowballs had excelled enough in the skiing portion that they hadn’t needed a bullseye the way the Ducks had, but the Savage Speeders had made themselves a great example of what could happen if the shooter was lulled into a false sense of security. Snowfall hadn’t let that happen.

“Can you see the northern lights in Osnow?” Snowy asked, awkwardly and unexpectedly loud. Snowfall turned slowly, not quite believing that their captain would elect to fill the silence between them. 

Eventually they summoned up the confidence to speak. “Yes… But they’re better in my hometown, which is further north. I’m not actually from Osnow originally.” 

Snowy found themself nodding along unconsciously, warmed by embarrassment at not knowing previously. 

“Well… Go on, then. Tell me about it.” 

“Alright, alright —  settle down, everyone. Thank you all for your perfect attendance today; it’s great to see. Without further ado, please welcome your speaker for the evening, Fudge!” 

As Whizzy departed the stage, the Chocolatiers’ reserve took their place, a harried and dog-eared bundle of notes by their side and a gold medal still looped around them. After a quick mic-check they drew the crowd to attention with a sharp ahem. 

“Thanks, Whizzy. I’m honored to be able to speak to you all, and I don’t take it for granted. I’m only the fifth reserve to have medalled in this League, and while mine is the first solo gold, let’s not let that take away from what Ruzzy, Bounce, Snowblast and Sheep have achieved.” 

Measured applause began and ended in orderly fashion, in the midst of which Polar turned to their neighbour and murmured, “Are these meetings always this formal?” 

“No,” replied Goose, the last to finish clapping. “It’s usually party games.” 

“Everyone understands their reserve-hood differently, personally and philosophically,” continued Fudge, “but the reality of being a reserve is that our opportunities are often less and our authority almost always is. We struggle to assert what we want and we often may not get it. Perhaps that’s the trade we make for assuming lesser responsibility in our team —  usually —  but it can grate, and it may feel that medalling is too distant of a prospect.”

The audience nodded amongst themselves, even those who wore their own medals proudly. 

“I was myself mostly relegated to doing duo events; not necessarily because I wanted to, but because my teammates trusted themselves better. But I took charge of my own destiny in qualifiers, and I took charge of it again here, and all of you have the potential to do the same. I hope that next time, when decisions are being made in your team, you won’t forget your own desires, or the potential you have to shape your own career.” 

Another round of applause followed, longer and more passionate. Fudge mirrored the audience’s smiles, a marked contrast to their usual self-seriousness. 

“Plus, even if you don’t medal, you still might get to go one-to-one with Red Eye.” 

Their audience approved even more of that, laughing louder than they had clapped —  all except for Murky, who was quiet until Whizzy returned to the stage and the crowd itself had quieted down. “Wait, why were you picking on Red Eye? They don’t deserve that.” 

The quiet crowd became briefly silent, and then broke out all at once in a rash of unbridled, shared laughter. Murky turned desperately to the back of the crowd. 

“Cyan Eye?” they called out, barely audible, only to find the CCE reserve laughing hardest of anyone, shedding a single tear. 

“Sorry, Murky,” apologized Fudge, having left the stage. “It’s just… it’s too funny!” 

But why? thought Murky, their mind drifting back to Kinikolu and the tears they lost to the wind. 

Credits

ML2024 Memo #1: The More Things Change

After the Ice Dash ended, Billy found Smoggy in the Hazers’ common room as usual, slumped dejectedly against the couch watching local news play no louder than a hum.

“Hello, Billy,” Smoggy greeted them, not turning their gaze from the TV. If Smoggy wasn’t interested in talking they would have had no qualms ignoring them entirely, so Billy took that as an invitation to make themself comfortable on the couch adjacent to their Hazers equivalent. 

(Art Credit: Piney)

“I watched the final,” continued Smoggy. “Congratulations.” 

Billy smiled. They’d left their bronze medal with Mallard and the team, but even now the pride was warm in their heart. “Thanks. Sorry you couldn’t be there.” 

“It’s fine.” Of course it wasn’t- Billy wasn’t much for emotional intuition, but even they could tell it was far from fine. That sort of feigned detachment was ultimately par for the course with Smoggy, though. “Shame that Swifty won, though.” As was the barely-disguised bitterness. 

“At least they seemed happy about it.” Truthfully, Smoggy wasn’t alone in coming to resent the Speeders. It being Swifty in particular brought back memories of P-Mine Tunnel, too. At least this time there’d been someone cushioning the blow. 

Smoggy dialed down the volume on the TV. “Probably because it’s Swifty’s first individual gold.” 

Oh? “You don’t usually remember that sort of thing.” 

“If you don’t keep an eye on the Speeders, you’ll be in big trouble.” 

The same is true about the Hazers, you know, Billy thought, but didn’t say. All that sneaking up from behind during races… “Well, it was Ruzzy I should have been keeping an eye on. Swifty was a lost cause.” 

Smoggy thought for a second. “You’re not alone in losing to Ruzzy,” they said eventually, just a hint of heat to the words. 

“It even happened to Rapidly,” agreed Billy, nodding. 

“And me,” Smoggy grumbled. “This is just Arctic Circuit all over again, but without Clementin…” 

Billy did their best to muster a neutral expression at the mention of Clementin’s name. The last thing Smoggy needed or wanted was to be dragged into their problems.

Smoggy didn’t seem to notice either way, continuing unabated. “…but if I was strong enough, I would’ve shoved Starry back.” 

“It’s Starry’s fault, really,” agreed Billy mindlessly. 

“Speaking of Ruzzy, do you know where they went?” Smoggy asked. 

“Something about going to get burgers.” 

With a sigh, Smoggy leaned back against the couch. “Figures.” 

LOCATION: Glidavik

DATE: 02/12/24

ESTABLISHMENT: Far North Burgers & Grill

ORDERED: Double Goat Burger, Tato Wedges, Cheese Nuggets & Cheese Dip with Orange Soda

VENUE RATING: Immediate plus for being warm. Glidavik is freezing! Anyway, it’s a nice place, slick and super clean, but a bit less personal than some places I’ve eaten at. Chairs were comfortable enough. Spacious interior and nice staff. Must be popular with the locals, as most of the other customers weren’t wearing team gear and they didn’t notice me. Nice to be anonymous for a bit. 4.5/5

FOOD RATING: Glidavikians sure love their cheese! My burger had cheese, my cheese nuggets had cheese, and my cheese dip had… cheese. I’m surprised there was no cheese in my soda. Rezzy gave me some of their fried pickles and there was cheese dust on that too, but besides the cheese overabundance it was good. Goat has a really unique flavor- it was either that or lamb. Generic buns & cheese nuggets didn’t have much flavor, but the “tato” wedges were well-seasoned. All nicely cooked. 3.25/5

FINAL RANKING: 3.875/5

In the wake of the redone Halfpipe medal ceremony, the Solar Flares were bunched together in the shadow of the podium steps. They howled like hyenas, flailing their medals around and talking in ecstatic tones. Jump rolled over slowly, as if they would be sucked into the energetic vortex if they moved too quickly.

A marble turned — Flare, the captain. As Jump smiled in greeting, Flare’s face lit up. Professionalism abandoned in the heat of the moment, they pranced over like a deer. They shook Jump around and grinned when they reached each other, stars in their eyes. “We did it! I knew we did!”

“Yeah, you did!” Jump laughed. “I’m glad the appeal worked out.”

“Yeah! Part of me was worried nothing would change, but it turned out it was just a little mistake. Still, our first Marble League medal! I’m so happy! And you guys were great out there, too; it looked like you were flying!”

“Sure felt like it,” Jump said.

“I know, it was so much fun! It made me kinda dizzy, though; I guess that’s why I didn’t notice the score discrepancy immediately. Going back and forth and back and forth like that…”

“Yeah, definitely,” Jump replied. They got the feeling they would be here for a while.

“Oh hey, don’t you think it’s funny that our teams got medals in this event when we’re both from such warm places? If it snowed in Meteorine, the world might as well be over! I don’t know if it fits as well for the Ducks, it can get pretty cold in… are they from Bermenghank or Draklin?” 

“Oh, I think they’re fr—” Jump started to answer.

“But anyway, I’ve been waiting for this forever! I was wondering if it’d ever happen, y’know. And I can’t wait to see what my family will say! My friends, too. I know one of them said they have the League playing on their work TV pretty much 24/7 now. They must’ve seen, right? No way they didn’t. Oh, and—”

As Flare kept going, Jump began to think that if they never stopped them, they would talk themself to death. With another marble, they might have been irritated, but here, it was endearing. It felt as if they were peering back in time, at themself in the beginning of Surculo. Back then, Jump felt the same all-consuming joy that Flare was feeling. Eventually, time and experience eroded it into something more reasonable, but it had been a long, long time since Jump last saw it in its purest form.

At some point, Flare started to slow down and trail off, after going into detail about some dish their parents made that they couldn’t wait to eat again. They stared at the snow on the ground. 

Jump’s brow furrowed. “Are you—”

With no warning, Flare exploded into tears. The force of their sobs shook their body; wails bubbled from their throat. 

“Woah, hey, it’s alright,” Jump murmured, more than shocked at the sudden switch. They rolled a bit closer.

Flare only wept harder. They wheezed, trying to get a breath in. Tears glistened on their cheeks and made little dots in the snow below. They met Jump’s worried look with one of realization.

“W-we really did it…” they croaked.

Jump’s gaze softened. They pulled Flare in for a hug. “You sure did. Make sure to cherish it, okay?”

There was a small nod against their side, now wet with tears and snot.

“Well, 9th isn’t ideal, but it’ll do. Way to make things work, everyone.”

9th in what? What’d just happened? The team had just been at the top of the slope to retry their run, and then–

“You hanging in there, Momomomo? Sounded like you were in a bit of pain during the run… hope you’re doing alright now.”

Their eyes turned upwards, their teammates reduced to blurry silhouettes of green in front of a clouded afternoon sky that managed to harbor bright and colorful stars at this hour. They could barely focus on how impossible something like that should be. Snowflake Slope was spinning and everything hurt.

“Hey, are you okay!?” the voice asked, inklings of panic obvious in their words nearly drowned out by high pitched ringing. “What’s wrong!?”

Momomomo opened their mouth to say something – but nothing followed, not even a lie about how they felt perfectly fine as their consciousness flickered. “…’m okay,” they managed to slur out before wincing as a torrent of pain crashed over them.

“S-someone, help! Something’s wrong with them! Hang in there, please!”

They couldn’t. It was too much.

Everything went black.

Things couldn’t be more different between now and nearly seven years ago. Back then, Team Momo had sunk to the penultimate position in the standings after Bobsled, with the three healthy team members in disarray over how to save a season that had barely started. Now, the team stood on the provisional podium’s second step and in prime position to steal the lead away with another good showing.

Momomomo laughed to themself between sips of hot chocolate. Team Momo won Bobsled of all events and returned in one piece. It seemed too ironic to be the truth, yet here they were, surrounded by their closest friends all proudly adorning gold medals that perfectly matched the beaming smiles they’ve had all day.

“You all look so good in gold,” they spoke up. “Way to kill off a narrative, huh?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Momo answered with a laugh. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m so ready to not be pitied anymore because of one fluke back in 2018.”

Momomomo hummed in agreement as they adjusted the blanket around them. A tiny tap against their side followed. When they looked to see what had bumped them, they saw Mimo, holding out their medal towards them.

“Do you want this?” Mimo quietly asked. “I feel bad that you couldn’t get the gold you deserved so much because of what you went through and I got one in your place, so–”

“Of course not! This is the gold you deserve for being so brave and stepping in back in 2018.” They gingerly shoved the medal away. “Wear it proudly.”

“I agree,” Momomo chimed in. “Why does it matter who technically won a medal and who didn’t? At the end of the day, no matter who wins what, it helps all of us.”

Momo nodded. “At the end of the season, they’re not gonna ask anything about who did the hardest work or how we did the work. Nothing about the technicalities of our medals or who deserves the credit more than the others.” They took a moment to collect themselves. “All they’ll look at is points… and they’ll see us at the top of the standings.”

The room went silent at the declaration. Finally, Mo asked, “Are you saying we’re gonna do it this time? For real?”

Before the captain could respond, it was Momomomo who spoke up. “We will. We’ve already changed the narrative surrounding this event, so why not change the narrative around this season?” 

Within one of the medals, they saw their reflection in gold; maybe it was a sign of things to come.

“…we’re not retreading our winter tragedy again. The story’s changing this year, whether the others want it to or not.”

Credits

ML2023 Memo #16: Faster Than the Eye Can Bee

Event 16 of Marble League 2023: Honeydome GP.
(Design Credit: Yume)

Watching Red Eye, Bumble and Pinky Panther vanish with their coaches into the podium preparation room, one they hadn’t come close to stepping into themselves, left Speedy feeling strangely deflated. Another championship was on the line and they’d only advanced a single place in the order. Keeping the overall bronze was a cold comfort, though they were sure they’d feel differently on the podium later. 

It was Rapidly who approached them first after the race, bringing them off to the side. 

“You did your best out there,” they said quietly. “Don’t let anything anyone says get to you.” 

“It wasn’t enough,” Speedy mourned. “What happened to me out there? I couldn’t even overtake Razzy.” 

“You know… Whether you want to hear it or not, you’ve been working hard this season. We couldn’t have gotten this far without you as captain, so don’t write this off as something you’ve failed at.”  

“Red Eye’s captain too,” Speedy muttered obstinately. “Bumble as well.” 

“Well, we’re still on the podium, so we’ll beat them when we see them next year.” 

Though they remained sulky, Rapidly seemed to have gotten the last word over Speedy, who went obligingly quiet. In the distance, almost too far away to hear, a familiar bell rang. 

“Sounds like they’re getting everyone ready,” Rapidly muttered. “Let’s muster a little enthusiasm for them, alright?” 

“Yeah, yeah. I promise.” 

Everything since they’d crashed into the basin of the elevator was only a blur. They were waiting with Bumble and Red Eye to be admitted onto the podium and receive their medals, but they could hardly remember how they had got there. At some point Pinky Toe and Pinky Promise had joined them backstage, along with Queen and White Eye. 

A second final-event bronze was theirs. But with Bumble grabbing the silver, it wasn’t enough. A sheepish smile was all Pinky Panther could offer their captain and coach. 

“Have you ever heard the expression, to win the battle but lose the war?” they joked, feeling horribly awkward. 

“It’s the other way around,” Pinky Toe corrected them. “But more importantly than that… You haven’t lost anything.” 

“Except a podium spot.” 

“Maybe. But if you knew we would one day get fourth in the League back in 2020… That would feel like an impossible victory, wouldn’t it?” 

“Don’t be harsh on yourself,” added Promise. “You fought hard out there. Nobody could say you didn’t want to win.” 

Before Panther could reply, Red Eye took their attention with a brief nudge. They were utterly composed, resplendent in their victory. And yet to Panther’s surprise, Red Eye bowed slightly before they could ask what the matter was, deferring both to them and Pinky Toe. 

“It was an honor to race against you. And it’s an honor to inherit the championship from your team. You’ve been worthy opponents.” 

“I… thanks, Red,” Panther stammered, though they were secretly relieved. “Hey, have fun finding confetti in everything you own for a month.” 

A bell rang, and a steward began to shepherd Pinky Toe away from them, leaving just the racers and their coaches. 

“Looks like it’s time.” 

As they were led away from backstage and towards the final pre-podium holding pen, Bumble watched Stinger’s shape fade into the distance. Soon it was only them, Queen, and the other racers who had made their way onto the final podium. 

Since the end of the GP they had been running on fumes. They had done what they needed to do, and they had little else to give. It hardly occurred to them that Red Eye was trying to catch their attention until they received a light tap to their left side. 

“How are you feeling?” they asked, somewhat awkwardly. It was a question Bumble had to sit with for a while. When they’d left the track they hadn’t really felt anything. Not in the abstract sense, at least; they’d felt the urgency of everything and the sudden slowness surrounding them, but they hadn’t really been in the mindset for introspection. 

Now, though, with everything finally at its end—whatever that looked like—how did they feel?

For so long they had lived in the ambiguity of promise and potential; chasing points and placements in every event, always trying to get ahead. Now, for them, the score was settled. It recalled in some strange way the M1 race that had made the greatest impression on them, their DNF at Misty Mountain. Everything was moving until it wasn’t, the momentum stolen out from under their wings at just the wrong time. Unable to move any further, what could they do? 

“I feel… strange. I don’t know.”

It wasn’t much of an answer, but Red Eye didn’t seem to mind. “Thank you for giving me the opportunity to race alongside you at home. And thank you for your hospitality.” 

“And I’m happy to have hosted you here.” Though Red Eye had taken the top step of the podium, they couldn’t bring themselves to resent them. “I…I hope it’s something you’ll remember fondly.” 

“I’ll remember it for the rest of my life.” 

A second bell rang, and the six of them were shepherded from the holdings out to the three steps of the podium. 

As the season’s final podium-sitters came into view, a roar of applause bloomed throughout the spectating crowd. Red Eye spent the slow climb up to the podium’s top step with their gaze fixed on the Crazy Cat’s Eyes’ section, watching as if they could zero in on their elation alone. There would be more to come later; they did not have to drink as if parched. But they did, rejoicing in how the familiar feeling of victory had been a thousand times amplified. 

It didn’t need a closing ceremony; they’d seen the numbers and they’d heard the cheering. The Crazy Cat’s Eyes were the 2023 Marble League champions. The first of the day’s gold medals was draped around them as they waved to the crowd that adored them and the team they captained wholly, receiving a second intense roar of applause in return. 

How amazing it feels, Red Eye thought to themselves. And how perfect it is! 

One deep breath in, one deep breath out. 

It’s finally over. 

Far from the now-empty podium and the delirious joy of the home crowd, Frost had found themselves a solitary hideaway within the stadium’s insides in which to catch their breath. An unlit dead-end corridor, dark and cool, suited them just fine, and for a while- five minutes, half an hour, it was impossible to tell- they shut their eyes and rejoiced silently that their imperfect efforts had just barely managed to raise the Glaciers out of last place. 

They were precariously awake when a familiar voice rang distantly through the empty space, slowly rousing them. As they gradually awoke they came to recognize their own name being called. 

“Frost? Can you hear me? Frosty?” It was Glide’s voice, no doubt about it. 

“Over here,” Frost called out. 

When Glide arrived, they found Frost silent and slumped in the corner. 

“Thought I’d lost you. You look beat.” 

“I am. Please don’t make me get ready for the closing ceremony.” 

Glide tutted cheerfully. “Afraid I have to. But you can take a nap after, alright?” 

Woozy and reluctant, Frost nonetheless got back up and allowed Glide to lead them deeper into the Superhive’s guts. Only when they reached an unmarked meeting room did they realize that they had been led in the opposite direction of the changing rooms. 

“This isn’t—” they objected, but Glide cut them off. 

“Just sit down,” they said as they opened the door and hurried Frost in. 

Sat around a table in front of a projector were the rest of their team, all looking equally clueless. Polite applause rumbled throughout the room as they took the last remaining seat. 

“Now we’re all here…” Glide mumbled, then trailed off. The projector kicked to life as they got behind their laptop. “Team, I know it’s not been a good year for us. We all did our best, but things didn’t work out like we planned. As your coach, I hope what I’m about to show you can make up for it.”

A photo of the team together, taken earlier that year, flashed onto the screen. They had all already seen it. What was new was the text overlay, which read in bold text- 

“Gliding Glaciers – Your 2024 Marble League hosts!”

All thoughts of fifteenth place dissolved as the room erupted with cheers, celebration, and the promise of another year of fierce competition to come.

Dear Em,

I would like to first apologize for not writing back sooner. No other fanmail has had such a profound impact on me. It took until our relay gold to begin collecting my thoughts, and until now to finish writing them. Even though I’ve spent years healing, it’s still difficult to recall the months after my injury. I’m sure you understand.

When I was in hospital, I was surrounded by so much love and support. I am truly sorry you didn’t have that. I am blown away by the resilience and determination you had to push through it all by yourself. Though I am truly humbled to have inspired you to keep pushing then, the strength came from you and you alone. You are truly remarkable.

One of the doctors told me during my recovery that I was less than a millimeter away from never being able to compete in marble sports again. At the time I brushed it off. I didn’t see how lucky I was. I don’t know what I would have done in your position. Your optimism, your determination, and your sense of wonder are irreplaceable gifts. Hold on to them. I have no doubt in my mind that, one day, I’ll be seeing you on the League’s medical staff.

It’s an honor to be part of your favorite team, and a greater one to be your favorite athlete.

Sincerely,

Momomomo

P.S. I’ve included a copy of our best dumpling recipe. Keep it a secret!

(Art Credit: Momoikkai)

Credits

M1S5 Memo #5: Like Clockwork

Accellaise (27/10/24)

Yellup: hey sorry for the short notice but we’re gonna be canceling on the boat ride
Yellup: yellow thinks they saw yelley 

“Ah, crap… Slimelime?” 

Slimelime turned back from tracing the intricacies of the winding, web-like map of Accellaise and towards Lemonlime and the off-blue waters of the small harbor. “Hm? Is something wrong?” 

Lemonlime groaned frustratedly. “Mellow Yellow canceled on us,” they mumbled. “Something about Yelley.” 

Slimelime spluttered and stormed over to Lemonlime, peering over to read the texts on the screen for themself. “We’ve had this booked for a week! Tell me they paid in advance,” they grunted. 

“I don’t know, I- just a second.” 

“Maybe put a message out in the group chat,” Slimelime proposed. “But not the Razzies.” 

“Still locked. I heard Blizzard had to drag Snowy away from Red Eye last night…” 

Lemonlime gestured for the attendant at the dock, a young and disinterested marble unimpressed by the presence of the Limers duo. “Our other riders canceled. Can we still get on?” 

The attendant shrugged. “As long as you can pay,” they said pointedly, gesturing back to the sign declaring the eye-watering cost of the tour, disinterest only increasing. Lemonlime whined under their breath, but just as they were about to open their own purse Slimelime intervened with a wad of their own cash foisted on the attendant. 

“It’s on me,” Slimelime declared. An unnecessary gesture, as they were both pulling from the same team purse, but Lemonlime flashed them a grateful smile anyway. A few minutes more of waiting and the red velvet rope came down, allowing them onto a cherry-colored boat that looked straight out of a century ago. 

The captain of the boat, a cheery marble, waved from their small cabin at the head as they sat on the plush open-roof seating. A table of fine produce and charcuterie was included on the central table. 

“Well, I suppose it’s more for us…” pondered Lemonlime, just to be drowned out by the sound of the motors whirring to life beneath them. 

The boat broke from the harbor and took off at a comfortable clip through the middle of the river. The journey, about an hour in length, would take them from the more residential edge of the city, through the center to the other end and then back around.  

“It’s not too fast,” quipped Slimelime, halfway through a bunch of grapes. “I suppose we’re getting our money’s worth.” White spray peeled from the side of the boat as it pushed through the river’s surface. Neither of the Limers noticed, caught in observing Accellaise as it passed around them.

“Such a beautiful city… The Speeders really are lucky, getting to live here…” mused Lemonlime, gazing up as the buildings gradually became bigger and more ornate. 

“You could retire here,” Slimelime suggested, hoping to be helpful, but Lemonlime responded with a pout. 

“I know I’m not as good as you, but you don’t have to talk about my retirement to my face.” 

Panicked, Slimelime tried to walk back what they’d said. “Not like that, I mean- you’re my best friend, you know that. I just, you know, when we all retire, you could, and I could come with you.” 

“That’s very sweet of you, but-”

“Hey! You two!” 

Out of nowhere, their conversation was interrupted by a neighboring boat, aboard which was Starry and Quasar. The boat, a more modern model, was moving much slower- perhaps for the benefit of Starry, who was immersed not in the beauty of the surroundings but in their laptop and a work call. 

“You two!?” exclaimed Lemonlime, signaling for the captain to slow their boat. 

“Can I get on yours? Starry is such a buzzkill,” exclaimed Quasar. Judging by Starry’s unchanging expression of complete focus, they hadn’t heard a word. 

“Well, if it’s safe-” 

“Nope, it’s all ours,” Slimelime yelled through a mouthful of wine and crackers, flashing the captain an opposite signal- floor it. They obliged, and as the boat kicked into high gear, it churned up a massive spray of foam underneath it, shooting across the water and blanketing the opposing boat- Starry, Quasar, and Starry’s laptop alike. 

“Slimelime!” Lemonlime shrieked, Team Galactic slowly vanishing into a white blob behind them. 

Helarve (01/11/24)

Snowstorm had no fond memories of Midnight Bay. During Season 1, so distant that it might as well have been another lifetime entirely, they’d watched Snowy fall just short of the individual championship. A year later in Season 2, actively competing, they’d just been glad to see the tail end of an existentially disappointing season. Season 3, watching Iceberg come second… Some things were best not dwelled upon. 

Still, it was in Helarve, a city so frigid that it took a native to the cold to withstand being outdoors for any substantial length of time. Otherwise they wouldn’t have been able to sit at the abandoned rooftop bar of the hotel for hours, overthinking everything, with an unobstructed view of the floodlit clocktower just in case impending doom ever slipped from their mind. 

Occasionally, between losing and regaining their senses, they moved to the side of the building where the entrance sat and watched that instead, wondering if they might see Snowflake leave before deciding again they didn’t want to know. All they knew was that Snowflake had shown up, and everything beyond that was out of their control. 

It was one of these times—times when they couldn’t see the door to the rooftop—that they were startled by the sound of the door. When they turned to face the new arrival, they found looking at a be-scarfed Yellow Eye, locking gazes for an unbearable few seconds. 

“No need for the deer-in-the-headlights look, you know,” Yellow Eye reassured them, but it was of little comfort. “Promise I’m not spying for Red Eye.” Even the bite of the cold through their knitted vetements couldn’t knock Yellow Eye’s practiced confidence off-kilter. 

Snowstorm swallowed speechlessly. Spying for Red Eye or not, they couldn’t put it past Yellow Eye to be attempting some sort of mind game with them. If so, maybe it was better to lean into it and outmaneuver them. They weren’t leaving, anyway; rather, they were coming closer. 

“I didn’t even know you were here, actually,” they added, sounding more like they’d just re-encountered an old friend in a foreign city. Snowstorm kept their gaze level as they approached, trying to size them up. “Where’s Snowy?” they asked, and what they’d said about not spying for Red Eye began to feel slightly hollow. 

“I don’t know.” It was the right thing to say, and it was also the truth. Their phone had been turned off and locked up ever since Snowflake arrived. Yellow Eye flashed them a quizzical glance. 

“Why not?” they asked, curiosity barely concealed. Snowstorm weighed their options. Lying was promising, as was deflecting. But there was a guilty part of them still, desperate to confess their transgressions to anyone who’d hear them. 

Snowstorm looked to the sky. “I took the nuclear option.”

Yellow Eye was caught off-guard, unusually for them. “What?” 

“I called in Snowflake to try and set Snowy right. I haven’t seen them since.” It was freeing to say it out loud. 

“That’s… Well, maybe it’s for the best,” Yellow Eye concluded, frustration poking to the surface between their words. “But you could be on two whole podiums together tomorrow—”

“Not going to happen,” Snowstorm interjected, waving away the ridiculous notion. 

Yellow Eye furrowed their brow. “You qualified well,” they added, a heavy unspoken sentiment weighing the retort down; and I didn’t, so don’t you dare be a downer about your situation. 

“When I line up on track and everyone sees we’re the only team whose other teammates didn’t even bother showing up to watch, I’m going to cringe to death, and I’m pretty sure that’s a DNQ.”

Yellow Eye’s expression wrinkled. “Grim. What, none of them?” 

“Snowblast is a maybe,” replied Snowstorm, glum. “If it’ll boost Snowy’s ego again, we don’t deserve to win anything. That’s how I feel.” 

Yellow Eye turned quite suddenly to look them directly in the eyes. Snowstorm winced. “Do you want my honest opinion?” Yellow Eye asked. 

Suspecting they might not like it, Snowstorm nodded anyway.

“I came to a conclusion, earlier: race for yourself. Be selfish. I threw my entire career away for the sake of my captain and I wasn’t even asked to. Guilt, bitterness, love… Whatever you think of Snowy right now, if you give up on your own ambitions for someone else, you’ll kick yourself for it for the rest of your life.”

Snowstorm peered over the stone railing, to the lamplit streets where a thousand strangers trudged the wet pavement, their minds and lives unknown to them.

“It’s not the same,” they protested vaguely. Still, their mind filled with thoughts of an overall podium, from which they could look down on everyone just like now. 

“Of course it is,” countered Yellow Eye. Before Snowstorm could think to argue further, they wandered off slowly to the exit, ending the conversation just as strangely as it had started. “But if you don’t get it, I can’t help you.” 

—

Berry had only just finished their first brief look at the provisional overall standings when Razzy paraded through the door to the radio control rooms, one of the first to depart from the track. The race having been reset, it wasn’t long since they’d last seen each other. Back then it had been under much less auspicious circumstances-  Razzy restarting in seventh, behind Swifty. That called for a brave face and an honest assessment: do it right, and it’s not over yet. 

Now there was no need for that. Razzy’s borderline infectious smile shone under the fluorescent lighting as they hunted for their team amongst the crowd of coaches and racers. Tension ruled the room—it was the finale, after all—but as their eyes met and Razzy dashed towards them, Berry felt a weight that had lingered for almost five years lifting invisibly from the both of them. 

“I’m so proud of you,” Berry sighed, pulling Razzy in for an embrace. “That was amazing. Every moment of it.”

Razzy giggled out some leftover adrenaline. “I can’t believe it,” they squeaked. “I did it again!” 

“This is your track,” Berry declared. “And I always knew you could do it.” 

As Ruzzy completed the hug and delivered their own congratulations to Razzy, Berry glanced behind the pair to where a few of the lowest-placing racers were finally filtering out. Swifty, Mallard, and Orangin entered with various levels of despondency on their faces, and where Mallard and Orangin received a firm hug from Bombay and Mandarin respectively, Berry could read the disappointment in Quickly’s face like a book. 

Razzy must have caught them staring, following their gaze and nudging them gently. “I beat Swifty… Did we hold seventh place?” they asked, too frazzled to math it out in their head. 

“We came fifth.” 

Razzy’s eyes went wide, and the smile vanished from their face. “There’s no way. Don’t say something like that.” 

“One point. And you’re eighth individually.” 

“When I find out you’re lying to me, I’ll…” Razzy declared, but the conspiratorial look on Ruzzy’s face had them grinning. “We beat the O’rangers? How? I knew I never saw Orangin, but—”

“They came 17th, cap,” Ruzzy laughed. “O’rangers, Speeders, the Kobalts, Team Momo—we beat them all.” 

“I’m dreaming, then,” concluded Razzy. 

“Bookending an M1 season with podiums? I couldn’t have dreamed this, even if I wanted to,” Berry declared. Then they glanced back to see White Eye with Yellow Eye and Blizzard with Snowstorm at the gate to the podium area, and the attendant looking their way. 

“They’re waiting, Razzy. Let’s go.” 

“White Eye and Blizzard, huh? What a winning combination,” Ruzzy laughed. 

“Hey, now. I declare a one-hour embargo on stressing me out, okay?” retorted Berry, rolling pointedly towards the podium gates for the second time in the season. “See you soon.” 

“Yeah, alright. Just don’t hog the champagne!” 

(Art Credit: Piney)

Credits

ML2023 Memo #15: Penultimatum

Event 15 of Marble League 2023: Sand Rally. (Design Credit: Yume)

At the bottom of the sand slope, still covered with a thin film of sand, Pinky Toe was greeted enthusiastically by the rest of their team. A mood soured by anxiety after their first-race wipeout only made their victorious comeback sweeter, and the Rosakan team was by far the loudest amongst those greeting their racers near the finish line basin. 

“Amazing! Absolutely amazing!” Pinky Rosa cried, drawing Pinky Toe into a breath-stealing hug.

“Never let me doubt you again,” added Pinky Winky apologetically. 

“You really gave it your all out there,” Pinky Promise mused. “I knew I made the right decision putting you in here.” 

“Everyone… Thank you! Let’s go to karaoke again tonight, alright?” said Pinky Toe in return, and the cries from the group grew into a frenzied celebration.

Standing slightly back from the rest was Pinky Panther. The team had agreed early on that they were the natural choice for the finale event, regardless of how the season would go for them. In turn, and as captain, Pinky Toe had put themselves in the position of having to secure them a good start. Now it seemed that fate was conspiring to put Panther in the same position they’d been in the year before; facing down the final event with a podium finish hanging in the balance. 

Their eyes met, and with a glance Pinky Toe could tell Panther was thinking much the same. They had light-heartedly cheered their captain on after their first-race DNF, but the sinking-in of reality played out in their distant and stormy expression. 

“One moment, please,” Pinky Toe requested calmly, and they broke through the encircling mass to stand at Panther’s side. Understanding the situation, the others dispersed. 

“Are you feeling okay?” they whispered. 

“Just thinking,” Panther replied. “That’s all.” 

“Is it too much pressure? I’m sorry.” 

“Not at all. I did it last year, didn’t I? And I wasn’t really any good at Elimination Race before either. So, I’ll be fine.” They seemed to be reassuring themselves just as much as they were reassuring their captain. That could only worry Pinky Toe more, and they cast their gaze back down to the sand. 

“Well, whatever happens… Know that I’ll always be proud of you, alright?” 

“Awwww, cap. You’re gonna make me cry.” 

After the heart-pounding finish to the Sand Rally, Snowy and Alpine reconvened at the bottom of the slope. Though spirits were high amongst both of their teams thanks both to their placements and their first real head-to-head of the season, all of their attention was on each other. 

“Another medal,” Alpine began, impressed. “I guess there’s no stopping you, huh?” 

“Not now I’ve got a good start at Honeydome, too. Next week, I’ll be on the podium again, y’hear that?” 

Alpine sighed under their breath. “About that… Don’t you think this might be a little too much for you to handle? Two events already, then another two in a row…. You’re good, but three’s the usual limit for a reason, right?” 

In an instant, all of Snowy’s cheer melted away. “Do I have to listen to you about the decisions I’ve made for my team?” 

“I… no, you don’t. I didn’t mean to imply that at all.” A more experienced captain’s plans were beyond reproach. And if there was an athlete out there capable of truly handling four individual events in a single season, Snowy was a compelling candidate. 

“You only want to do your single strongest event? Fine, then,” Snowy continued unabated. “That’s your choice as captain. But that’s only what’s right for your team.” 

Alpine couldn’t argue with that either. Snowy was right. And they could read the unspoken facts, too- that amongst the Snowballs, ever since Snowflake’s departure, Snowy was the unquestioned star. The team’s savior, too. And that wasn’t something they could understand. 

Maybe they were being silly. Maybe this really was just their own lack of perspective. 

“Of course,” Alpine replied sheepishly, the wind taken out from under their wings. “I don’t mean to tell you what to do.” 

Snowy turned their back on them. “It’s all settled, anyway. Make sure Frost knows to watch out for me, because I won’t be going easy on you.” 

“Sure,” Alpine replied. Too late, perhaps, because Snowy wasn’t waiting around for their reply. They had vanished already, leaving only their tracks in the sand as evidence that they were there in the first place. 

The difficulty of the new sand rally course had caught Momomo off guard. Two successive DNFs had not put them in the greatest of moods, either. But they weren’t alone in having failed to finish twice; so they sought out Razzy, who’d experienced the same. 

They found the Racers’ rallyist on an embankment of sand a short distance away from the course’s end, alone and muttering to themselves. Momomo approached tentatively, and Razzy seemed not to notice them as they did. 

“Tricky course out there,” they said, smiling. “Sorry you had the same hard time as me.” 

Razzy stared intensely at the sand, not making eye contact. “It’s fine,” they mumbled, though Momomo gained the distinct impression that it wasn’t. 

“Still, I think we both did our best, right?” 

Razzy gave no response. Their expression was dark and distant, and they seemed to have barely registered Momomo’s words if at all. 

“It will all be fine,” Razzy replied, low and cold and not to Momomo’s words. “I’ll fix things. It’ll all be okay.” 

Momomo laughed nervously under their breath. “Yeah, I kinda wish that I was the one running next week like you. I for sure don’t envy our racers.” 

Without replying, still mumbling, Razzy moved past them and into the distance, away from the informal congress area where everyone else had gathered. Momomo did not stop them. It seemed futile to try. 

Though at the bottom of a sloping sand hill, Red Eye felt on top of the world. What their gold implied was evident to them. What was usually just points was now a massive advantage awaiting them, perhaps a greater award than the points themselves; pole position in the following week’s Honeydome finale event. 

As they breathed in the crisp Buzznya winter air, White Eye sidled up to them wordlessly, hanging like a shadow. 

“You can see it, can’t you?” they said, voice full of conviction. “How they’re all looking at you now, captain of the next Marble League champions.” 

Truthfully, it wasn’t something they’d paid attention to. Others’ impressions of their victory hardly mattered. It was theirs and theirs alone. “It’s not over until it’s over,” they replied, mustering humility. 

“Now, now. Think about it — Red Eye on pole for a circuit race. Who in their right mind on Marblearth would bet against your win?” 

Red Eye glanced across the cold sands at Speedy. They’d gathered with Quickly for what looked to be a tense conversation with Whizzy. “I could think of a few,” they said. 

“Then don’t think,” White Eye said. “Just do. Do what you’ve always done. You know that I have the utmost faith in you.” 

Beset suddenly with a creeping unease at the grand prospects ahead, Red Eye nodded nonetheless. “Of course. I promise to make you proud.” 

An Excerpt from: Buzznya’s Excellent Hex Cell Bent Streets: A Guide

While most of Marblearth uses a standard square grid system, cities in the Buzznya metropolitan area use hexagonal tiling instead. Although this may be disorienting to some, it has a plethora of benefits. For example, each intersection connects incoming drivers from a maximum of three directions rather than four, and with much shallower angles. Furthermore, the inability for vehicles to “go straight” at an intersection promotes heightened driver awareness and slower speeds in. It also encourages marbles to simply walk to their destination.

While historically in Buzznya, words such as “avenue,” “street,” and “drive” have had specific meanings, nowadays, they are all practically synonymous. In larger cities, roads that run along the north-south direction are named, while the smaller roads running easterly and westerly are numbered, and are often called “chutes.” Addresses are almost always include the nearest named street, although in some cases with particularly long lateral stretches of road, numbered streets may be used.

For longer journeys, the extensive subterranean railway (or sub-way) system is your go-to. An elegant system of train lines connect each city in Buzznya, from Buzzpig to Buzzkill, as well many places of interest between and within. It is the cheapest publically funded transportation system on Marblearth. In fact, traveling inside a city is free for all residents! For ease of identification, each line of the sub-way has a distinct color coding, and as of 2021, a typological character for those with color-blindness.

A diagram of a small portion of the Buzznyan Sub-way system. (Design Credit: Yume)

Credits