A Brief Backstory

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The world has overheated. Sounds impossible to say the least, but it's true. Water levels on Earth rose to such an extent, to such a tall height, that all land on Earth was soon sunk under water. The surviving inhabitants of Earth had to devise a plan, and as soon as possible.

Working over the course of a year before the Great Flood, every nation’s leaders came together to build a intricate submarine for the surviving population to live on: The Leviathan. However, the Leviathan, due to its great size and weight, has to stay far below the water's surface. Unfortunately, most residents of the Leviathan today don't know the warmth of the real Sun's rays on their skin. They don't know the smell of a real summer's breeze.

Over time, the Leviathan’s residents came across a groundbreaking discovery—it was almost too good to be true. Every two years, the water levels on Earth go down slightly.  People were ecstatic! This means that they would be able to return to their home lands, go to the surface once more!

But, sadly, their hopes were soon squashed into smithereens—to the point where there was no hope. Even though the water levels had gone down, centimeter by centimeter, only a tiny, minuscule island had been found, thus proving that it would be many years before the water levels returned to normal. It was never debated, never discussed. With a short, abrupt congressional meeting, the elites—the President and his associates—would live on the island, the piece of land that they had soon dubbed, “Haven.”

Residents of the Leviathan were furious. How was it fair that they had to live down here, where nothing but miles and miles of dark, ominous sea could be seen? How was it fair that only the elites could experience the warmth of sunshine, the crisp scent of the summer's breeze, the soft sand and dirt? Riots soon ensued, the people threatened destruction. The peace would not only be threatened, but if completely diminished, if the Leviathan’s Congress did not treat the citizens’ rights equal to their own. Seeing as there was about to be a mutiny, the President came up with an idea: He created a competition.

Down on the Leviathan, a large computer, similar to the first models from decades ago, was built. It held the all the information about each and every one of the people who resided on the submarine—one could describe it as all-knowing about each resident. During the waiting period of the two years, when the water level would decrease, competitors starting at the age of six years old could enter their name as many times as they desired, only increasing their chances of their name being drawn. The limit to the amount of times a name could be entered? None, as long as the bowl isn't filled to the brim with one single noun.

There was a catch, of course.

Once your name was chosen, you could only participate in the games once. If you lose, you may never enter your name again. If you win, however, you are taken by a minisub up to Haven and live. Only one person would be allowed, should they win the competition.

The President, never being one with a creative mind, named his competition the Haven Trials. Every two years, 25 names were selected at random from the entries. Men and women, boys and girls of all ages, races, and religion would participate. This competition in itself wasn’t very simple in the least.  After the choosing ceremony, the 25 contestants are transported to Sector 14, a closed off area of The Leviathan used for most of the trials events. The contestants have no contact with their families until after the completion. If you survive and lose, you get to go home to your family. If you win, you have a day to spend with your family before being sent up to the island Haven.

Everyone knows that deaths and injuries are common in the games. They just don't see it until after it's over. Not only are contestants in the dark, so are the rest of The Leviathan's residents. The trials are never televised, due to the fact of people cheating in the past. But that won’t ever stop someone from wondering: Should those body counts increase? Decrease? Should they stop the deaths? Think of the families who have lost a father, a mother, a child—anybody at all—and their grief. It’s not long before the people start rioting again, but what can they do? After all, this was a battle for life itself. And, to many, they would rather go down swinging, just to get a chance at living in Haven, than hang their head low in shame as they returned to the underwater world of the Leviathan.

Well, what about you?

Are you ready to give up your life for paradise?

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