Starlight Glimmer wished she was still a villain. Not because she was disillusioned with the friendship lessons she received from Twilight, but because she remembered plotting revenge kept her mind occupied for a good long while.
She stared at the round table in the throne room and huffed. About three hours ago, the Cutie Map had summoned all six ponies of the Council of Friendship to some far-flung land on the edge of Equestria, where adventure and new friendships awaited them. At first, it didn’t really bother Starlight that she would be left behind. It wasn’t until they all left that she remembered Trixie was still visiting her sick mother in Baltimare, leaving Starlight all alone.
While looking back at the map, she couldn’t help but question why she was never summoned anywhere. Did the map only summon the six of them? Was there no friendship problem anywhere that she could solve? Did the map still think she was evil? Was there some magic ritual she could perform that would make the map at least acknowledge her existence? If there was, what was it? Starlight shook her head. Why was she obsessing over this stupid map?
“Hey, Starlight.”
It was Spike. Starlight looked up and saw him walk past her with a comic book in his claw. He must have come from the library, and was now making his way upstairs to his bedroom. She said “hey” back, then turned back to the table. It was then that she admitted to herself that she missed her friends. She wanted to be a part of whatever grand adventure they were having, not cooped up in a castle going out of her mind with boredom.
It was a strange feeling for her, boredom. She never felt bored when she was ruling over her old village. Between removing Cutie Marks, maintaining uniformity, and “re-education”, Starlight’s old life kept her pretty busy. She knew now that everything she did in the name of equality was horrible, but at least it was something. When Twilight took that away from her, it left a huge vacuum in Starlight’s thought life, which she had filled for a time with plotting her revenge, and eventually studying the magic of friendship under the princess herself. But now that she and all her friends had left her, the vacuum was back. If she didn’t find something positive to occupy her mind quickly, Starlight worried what terrible thing would inevitably fill the vaccum.
“Are you feeling okay?”
Starlight looked up and saw Spike still standing there. She debated whether or not to tell him what was bothering her. If that comic book was any evidence, he already had his own plans for the day, and she didn’t want to intrude on that by burdening him with her personal problems. That was something friends did. While she didn’t harbor any ill will toward the young dragon, Starlight didn’t really consider Spike a proper friend either. They had a mutual friend in Twilight, whose castle served as their living quarters, but that’s where the common ground ended.
Then again, she didn’t really have anyone else to talk to.
“I’m bored,” Starlight confessed. “And being bored is making me think about how I was never bored when I was evil, and I hate that I’m thinking this way, because I know how much damage I caused when I was evil, and I really don’t want to be that way ever again, but I just can’t get my mind off the fact that being evil meant I was never bored!” She paused to catch her breath, but she didn’t continue. She saw the look in Spike’s eyes, like he was staring at a mare possessed. And he was right. Starlight hung her head in shame.
“It sounds like you could use a good distraction,” Spike said. “And I’ve got just the thing. Come on.”
Starlight followed Spike upstairs to his bedroom. Once there, Spike tossed his comic to the floor, and picked up a rather plain looking metal box. He opened the hinged lid, and held it to Starlight’s face so she could see inside. The box held a bunch of crystalline pyramids in a variety of colors and three different sizes. Curious, Starlight took a large blue pyramid in her magic, and turned in around so she could see all the sides. It was lighter than she expected, because it was hollow inside. On closer inspection, she saw three small marks on each of the pyramid’s triangle sides, near the base. Looking back in the box, she saw that they all had those same marks, except the medium pyramids had two each, and the smalls had only one.
“Um,” Starlight said. How could she put this? “They’re lovely, Spike, but I don’t see how looking at crystals is supposed to get my mind off my boredom.”
“These aren’t just any crystals,” Spike said. “They’re board game pieces.”
“Oh? For what game?”
“Hundreds of different games.”
That got her attention. “Wait, hundreds? Really?”
“Uh-huh. Fans from all over Equestria have created hundreds of different games for these little pyramids. Some are easy enough for children to play, others have complex strategies that take a long time to wrap your head around, and a few are somewhere in the middle. But they all use the same pieces.”
“You’re not going to make me play all of them, are you?” Starlight asked.
“Well, no,” Spike said. “Why don’t we start with just the one and see where we go from there. Do you know how to play Tic-Tac-Toe?”
“Doesn’t everypony?”
“Okay, good, then you should have no trouble understanding Martian Tic-Tac-Toe.”
“I’m sorry, did you say Martian Tic-Tac-Toe?”
“Yeah. See, according to legend, the pyramids are relics from an ancient civilization that existed on the planet Mars a hundred thousand years ago. So a lot of the games you can play with these pyramids are called ‘Martian whatever’. There’s Martian Chess, Martian Backgammon, Martian Shuffleboard, and, yes, Martian Tic-Tac-Toe.”
Okay, there are ponies across Equestria who made up a bunch of games that use all the same pieces, and now there’s a legend attached to them. Sweet Celestia, what am I getting myself into?
“I don’t know, Spike. This whole thing seems a little too weird for me.”
“Oh, come on, at least let me teach you how to play before you head back downstairs to mope.”
Starlight shook her head. “How do you always know the exact right thing to say that makes me feel like a complete tool?”
Spike opened his mouth to answer, but decided against it. He sat down on the floor, in a wide vacant space, taking the box of pyramids with him. He pulled a small swatch of fabric out of the box, marked with a three by three square grid, and set it down in front of him. He also took nine green pyramids, three of each size, and stacked them near the gameboard.
“What color would you like, Star? Is pink okay?”
“Yes, that’s fine.”
He took out a set of pink pyramids identical to his green ones and stacked them on the opposite side. Starlight positioned herself near her pieces and sat down.
“So, the object of the game is to get three of your pieces of the same size in a row, either across, up and down, or diagonally. The tricky part is you only have three pieces of each size to work with. When it’s your turn, you can make one of four moves: you can Spawn, which means putting a small piece on an empty space; you can Grow by replacing one of your pieces with the next size higher; you can Capture an opponent’s piece with a piece of your own that’s exactly one size bigger; or you can Draw one of your larger pieces back to your bank by replacing it with any smaller size. For each move, you need to have the right size piece in your bank, otherwise you can’t make that move. (So you can’t Spawn if you don’t have any smalls left.) And that’s how you play Martian Tic-Tac-Toe.”
“Okay, sounds simple enough. Who goes first?”
“It really doesn’t matter. You can go first if you want.”
“Thank you, don’t mind if I do.”
Starlight took a small in her magic, since her first move had to be a Spawn. She placed her piece in the top-left corner of the grid. That was how she liked to start in regular tic-tac-toe, so why change? Spike placed his first piece in the center square. Starlight spawned in the bottom left. As she expected, Spike blocked her by spawning a piece of his own in the center left. This left an opening for Spike to win across the middle, so Starlight blocked him in the center right space. Spike then spawned in the bottom center.
Starlight picked up a medium piece. Looking at the board, she could see her only potential winning line was still the left column. She moved the piece in her aura close to Spike’s small green in the center left. Spike chuckled smugly to himself. Starlight hesitated. Then she noticed Spike’s two remaining smalls in the center column. If she captured him here, his third small would go back to his reserve, where he could spawn it in the top middle and win!
Starlight pulled her piece away. “Nope, not doing that,” she said.
“Aww, but I really wanted you to,” said Spike.
“Yeah, I’m really sure.” Starlight huffed. Maybe this game was harder than she thought it was.
Spike had two potential rows of three already in place, so Starlight figured the best move for her was to capture the one square where they intersected. So she captured Spike’s small in the center square. Spike responded by capturing in the bottom left. Now that Spike’s win in the center column was broken up, Starlight felt much safer capturing in the center left, and so she did. Now, all she had to do was grow that last small piece to a medium, and she’d win with three mediums across the middle row. But of course, Spike had other ideas. He captured in the center, replacing Starlight’s medium with a large. This gave him two rows of two, and even though all of his pieces were different sizes, Starlight felt she had she had to block him somewhere. She took a small in her magic, and looked at the board.
She already had smalls in the top left and middle right spaces. She spawned her small in the top right corner, creating two rows of two of her own. Spike blocked by spawning in the bottom right. Now the bottom row had three of Spike’s pieces, two smalls and a medium. He had a small in reserve, so Starlight had to stop him now, or he’d win.
She captured the piece that Spike just spawned, creating the same situation for herself in the right column. Spike responded by capturing in the top right, forming a diagonal with two mediums and a large. Since the large could not be captured, Starlight had to block him by capturing either of the mediums. She picked up a large and studied the board. Whichever corner piece she captured, she’d end up with one piece of each size in a column. The top middle space was still vacant, while Spike had a small in the bottom middle. So Starlight captured in the top right space, thinking the top row would be easier to control.
Spike tsk-tsked. “I think you might have made a mistake.” He make the first Grow of the game, replacing his small in the bottom middle for a medium. Starlight spawned a new piece in the top middle, the last vacant square.
“So, on my next turn, I could Draw this large and put a small here in its place?” Starlight said, nudging her large in the top right.
“Well, you could, if you had any smalls left in your bank. Which you don’t.”
Starlight looked down and saw Spike had spoken the truth. She had two larges and a medium left. The last small she needed to claim the top row was already on the board, in the middle right space.
“Oh, shoot! How did I miss that?”
“Like I said, you have to keep track of the pieces in your bank.”
Spike took a large from his bank and captured Starlight’s medium in the bottom right corner. He could leave the top row alone, because it wasn’t a threat, even though it looked like one. Starlight looked at Spike’s bank and saw one medium remaining. That meant he could Draw the large he just played and win the game in the bottom row. Starlight had to block him. So she used a large to capture a medium in the bottom left. Spike captured in the top center, creating another threat in the center column. Starlight captured him right back, putting two of her larges in the top row. Spike took a medium in his claw, and brought the tip of it to his lips. He looked at the board, then at Starlight’s bank, then at his own bank.
“Aha!” he said triumphantly. Then he captured the small piece in the top left corner, the piece that started the game, and had not been removed the entire time. “Gotcha! I just won the game!” He pointed to the diagonal row that included the piece he just played.
“No, you didn’t!” Starlight protested. “You said you need three pieces of the same size to win. This row has two larges and a medium.”
“Yes, but I have a large in my bank to play,” Spike said, holding up the piece he was talking about. “So on my next turn, I can Grow that medium to a large and win the game. And the only way you could stop me is by capturing that medium with a large of your own.” Starlight looked to her own bank and saw she had no larges left.
“I…but I had to…to stop…oooooooh!” Starlight seethed.
The little dragon had played her like a fiddle, setting up threats that had to be answered with her larges, and then striking at just the right moment. It infuriated her. And yet, she couldn’t help but admire his cleverness. She sucked in a lungful of air, and let it out in an irritated huff. Then she looked back at the board, at the game she found herself invested in so much. And suddenly, it didn’t seem like such a big deal.
“Are you okay?” Spike asked.
“Yeah. I’m okay.” Starlight said. “I guess we might as well finish the game, just to make it official.” Starlight replaced her large in the bottom left with a medium. Spike then replaced his medium in the top left with a large, and dragged his claw across the tips of the three large green pyramids in the diagonal row.
“You know something,” Starlight said, “This game is actually a lot more fun than I thought it was going to be. It’s similar enough to regular Tic-Tac-Toe, such that I can use that familiarity to ease into figuring out the strategy of the game. But even though the rules are simple, the strategy is a complex web of threats, blocks, and counter-threats that takes quite a while to fully grasp. I can see why they say these games come from Mars.”
“And I can see that you’re not feeling bored anymore,” Spike said as he cleared the board.
“Hey, you’re right.” Starlight said. “Can we play again? I think I can beat you this time!”
“Sure, I’m game if you’re game. You want me to go first this time?”
“Go ahead,” Starlight offered.
Spike began the second game by spawning in the center square. As was her wont, Starlight spawned in the top left corner. Spike spawned in the middle right, threatening the middle row. Starlight blocked with a spawn in the middle left. Spike answered her threat by spawning in the bottom left. Starlight thought about spawning in the top right corner to block Spike on the diagonal. But with all three of his smalls in play, that line wasn’t a threat at this time, so she didn’t have to respond right away. Favoring unpredictability, she chose instead to spawn in the bottom right corner.
Spike must have noticed that Starlight ignored his diagonal row. As soon as he saw why, he grew the errant small in the middle right, so he could have a small in his bank again. Starlight’s smalls were exhausted, so she could not spawn in the top right to block him. But she could capture his small in the center, which she did.
Spike reached for a medium, then put it back down. “You almost tricked me, making me think you could win here,” he said, wagging his claw. He picked up a small and spawned in the bottom middle. Starlight was confused. But then she saw what Spike saw. Her diagonal row of two smalls and a medium could have been a threat, if she had one more small in her bank, which she didn’t. She needed to get another small back, so she grew the one in the bottom right to a medium.
“Now I can win here,” Starlight said. It was true. She could win on the diagonal by growing the small in the top left. Of course, Spike would answer by capturing the piece she just grew. This move threatened the bottom row. Starlight captured his small in the bottom left, threatening the left column. Again, Spike responded by capturing the piece Starlight just played.
This left no major threat for Starlight to answer, so Starlight could take the time to think through her next move. At this point, Starlight had control over three squares, which were two out of three squares on three different lines. However, two of those lines were blocked by Spike’s immovable larges, which meant she had no opportunity to win in either of those lines. That only left the middle row. Starlight grew the small in the middle left, giving her two mediums in that row. The last space was occupied by Spike’s medium, which she could capture with her large, then draw back down to a medium. It wasn’t a major threat, but it was something.
Spike grew his small in the bottom center, leaving a threat that could only be blocked if Starlight captured the medium Spike just played. So she did. Then Spike did something unusual. He drew the large in the bottom left, replacing it with a small. That’s when Starlight realized that Spike was getting her to waste her larges again, just like last game. Starlight gnashed her teeth in frustration.
Looking back to the board and finding no major threats, Starlight continued with her plan in the middle row by capturing in the middle right. Now Spike had to spend one of his larges answering her threat. He captured the center box, giving him two larges in a diagonal. The last square in that row was one of Starlight’s smalls, and she knew better than to grow it.
Seeing her small in the top left made her notice the rest of the top row was still vacant. She had two smalls in her bank, so she could win that way. Smirking to herself, she spawned in the top center space. Of course, Spike saw that threat right away, and blocked her by spawning in the top right corner. Spike had another small in the bank, so he could draw his large in the center box to a small and win on the diagonal. Starlight had to block him by capturing a small, so she captured the one in the bottom left. This threatened a win in the left column, so Spike captured her small in the top left.
This gave Spike two larges and a medium on the diagonal line, a threat that could only be blocked if Starlight captured his medium in the top left. She did so, and in so doing, she spent the last large she had in her bank. Starlight growled lowly at her misfortune.
“Oh, what are you so mad about?” Spike snarked, as he captured Starlight’s medium in the middle left. “You exhausted my larges, just like you wanted.” Starlight looked back at the left column. Rolling it back one turn in her mind, she could see that it was indeed a major threat that Spike had no choice but to answer in that way. She had stumbled rump backwards into tying up Spike’s most powerful pieces. But Spike had done the same to her. This suggested that she was on equal footing with Spike, at least for now.
Starlight had to draw her larges back into her bank. She saw Spike’s larges form two rows of two, each one blocked by one of Starlight’s own larges. But her large in the bottom middle wasn’t blocking anything, so that was the one she decided to draw. She played a medium in its place, thinking a row of two mediums was more advantageous than a row of two smalls. As she expected, Spike decided to hold firm in the bottom right corner, and instead he drew the large in the middle left, shrinking it to a small.
Spike would not remove his large in the bottom right, not unless he believed it was safe. And he would not believe that if Starlight still had a medium in her bank. Thinking she might be able to bait him into doing just that, Starlight decided to use her last medium to capture Spike in the top right corner.
Come on, Spike, Starlight thought. You know I’m not budging from the top left, and you do need another large in your bank.
To her surprise, Spike actually did exactly what Starlight wanted him to do. He played a medium to draw his large in the bottom right. With a smile, Starlight drew the medium she just played in the top right, threatening the top row. Spike responded by capturing Starlight’s small in the top right. Now that it was loose, Starlight drew the large in the top left, dropping it to a small. This gave her the pieces she needed to take the right column. Spike, apparently still bothered by Starlight’s two mediums in the bottom row, captured her in the bottom left. With a disgusted sigh, Starlight captured Spike in the top right. It was the only way to block the threat he left behind in the diagonal row.
Spike picked up a medium, and started to twirl it in his claw. Suddenly, he moaned with the unmistakably agony of defeat.
“Oh, I am such an idiot! You just won the game!”
Confused, Starlight looked at the board. She dominated the top row with two smalls and a large, and she did have a small in reserve, so it was a major threat, but Spike could easily block it by capturing either small. Then she saw the right column, where she had two larges and Spike had a medium. Starlight could capture on her next turn and win, but Spike could easily block that by growing his medium. But he couldn’t block both threats at the same time, because that would take two different moves, and he could only make one move on his turn. Starlight Glimmer had double-checked Spike.
Starlight’s voice caught in her throat, as she let out a breathy chuckle. It felt like fate had smiled upon her and graced her with a brilliant plan. But that wasn’t what happened, and she knew it. Spike had not thought his move through, and he had made a fatal mistake. She didn’t earn this win, she had no right to enjoy it. She inhaled through her nose to stop herself from laughing.
“Spike, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Spike said. “It’s not like it’s all my fault I messed up. You did give me a run for my money towards the middle there. You earned this win. So, let’s make it official.” He placed his medium pyramid in the top left corner, and handed Starlight back her small. “I can block you here, but I can’t block you there, so…” Starlight swapped a large pink pyramid with the medium green in the bottom right corner.
“Tic-Tac-Toe, three in a row!” Starlight cheered, pumping her forelegs in the air. “I win!”
“Good game, Starlight. Well played.” Spike offered his claw to Starlight in a friendly gesture. She placed a hoof in his claw and shook.
“So, you’ve won once, and I’ve won once,” Starlight said. “Best two out of three?”
“Nah, I’m okay with leaving it at a tie,” Spike said, massaging his temples. “I just wanted you to show the game to you, so you’d take your mind off missing your friends. But this game really hurts my brain. I need to lie down for a while.” Spike stood up and walked to where he left his comic book.
Starlight looked down. “Oh, okay, I understand.” Even though she had only played twice, she could see this game was brimming with possibilities, and she wanted to explore them all. “Hey, would you mind if I borrowed these pyramids for a little while?”
“Not at all, knock yourself out.” Spike curled up in his bed, and started to read.
Starlight levitated the pink and green pieces and the game board, and trotted downstairs. The library seemed like the logical choice to do some deep thinking. She set the game up on one of the reading tables, and started playing the game against herself. She played through three complete games before she realized she wasn’t really paying attention to whether the individual moves she made were good or bad. In fact, she had a hard time remembering how those first three games played out.
She pulled out some parchment and a quill, and devised a system of recording her moves. She numbered the boxes that made up the board one through nine, and assigned letters to the three sizes of pyramid in the game. That way each move could be represented by a letter and a number.
Then she started playing again, recording her moves as she went. Starlight started to develop simple tactics, such as making sure she kept at least one large and medium piece in her bank, and always answering major threats with the smallest size she could. Of course, since she was playing against herself, the games often ended up in deadlocked situations. There was never a tie, as there was always a move that could be made, and the game didn’t stop until either side had won. One game in particular lasted thirty-five moves. The more she played, the more Starlight started to feel like she had an understanding of how the game worked, and how to play well. It filled her mind with a warm glow that she cherished. She hadn’t felt this way since…since she was in charge of her old village.
This was it, Starlight Glimmer realized. This was what she missed about her old life. It wasn’t being evil, it was being in control of something, anything really. Whether it was a village of misled ponies, a plot for revenge, or arranging pyramids on a grid, Starlight loved planning moves, plotting how they played out, and seeing the result she desired come about by her actions. And now that she had Martian Tic-Tac-Toe to fill that void, she didn’t need to go back to any of her wicked ways ever again. This was how she would keep herself from turning evil again.
“Um, Starlight?”
She almost didn’t hear the voice calling her name. It was quiet, in a specifically familiar way. She turned to the door and saw Fluttershy standing there.
“Oh, hey, you’re back!” Starlight said. She stood up from the table and embraced her friend. “How was the friendship mission? An unqualified success, as usual?”
“Um, yeah, I guess so,” Fluttershy muttered half-heartedly. She stared at the table with a tilt of her head. “What have you been up to while we were gone?”
Starlight looked back and saw the mess of papers and pyramids on the table. “Oh, nothing serious. Spike just taught me this new board game, and I was trying to figure out a winning strategy for it.”
“I think I’ve seen this game before,” Fluttershy said. “Are those Treehouse pyramids?”
“I don’t know,” Starlight said. “Spike just said they were pyramids for playing a bunch of different games. He never said what the pyramids were called. He did say something about them being from Mars, allegedly, so kind of thought they were called Martian pyramids.”
“Well, they look like the same kind of pyramids Discord used when he showed me how to play Treehouse.”
This got Starlight’s attention. “Discord plays games with pyramids too?”
“Uh-huh. He swears on our friendship that he’s not using his magic to cheat, but he does win rather consistently, even though the game works on mostly random chance.” Fluttershy turned away from Starlight, like she was upset about something.
“You’re not playing for money, are you?”
“What? No!” She must have sensed the concern in Starlight’s voice, and put on a warm smile. “And, really, I don’t mind that he wins. It makes him happy, and that makes me happy.” Fluttershy’s smile vanished as quickly as it appeared.
“But you’d like the game better if you won every once in a while too, right?”
Fluttershy sighed. “Board games are only really fun when everyone playing is on the same level, skill-wise. If one player is much more skilled than her opponent, the game is only going to be humiliating for the novice, and boring for the veteran.”
“I know what you mean,” Starlight said. “You know, I got pretty good with Martian Tic-Tac-Toe in just one day. Perhaps I could help you figure out a winning strategy for Treehouse, too?”
Fluttershy smiled at Starlight. But Starlight could see something unusual in her smile. Her right eyebrow arched, and her eyelids narrowed ever so slightly. Fluttershy’s strange smile alarmed Starlight, and yet, she felt drawn to her because of it.
“You know,” Fluttershy said, “I think you just might.”
Author's Note
For the record, the official name of these pyramid game pieces is Looney Pyramids. They are named after their inventor, Andrew Looney. And while we're on the subject of giving credit where its due, the game Martian Tic-Tac-Toe was created by Chris Goodwin. And Zephram Raviedes of boardgamegeek.com provided me with the pyramid sprites I used to make the illustrations.
