How I, Asa Rosen, Learned How to Win SOTF and Alienate Everyone

[Laurels]

((CJ3: Asa Rosen continued from The Reviews Are In, and It Does Not Look Good))

Asa sat on a bamboo chair inside one of the cabanas, staring at the wall in front of him. He kept the brush axe on his lap and remained quiet as he sat in the chair. He needed the time to sit quietly and think about what he was doing. He had already gone through Gene's bag and stole most of his food and supplies. Now he needed to really understand what he was doing.

It had been a few hours since he left the theater. Most of the walk out of the place was spent fuming and muttering curses at anyone he could think of. He cursed his parents for bringing him into the world and making him grow up in circumstances that would get him killed on live TV. He cursed Davison for building a school that was the lamp that attracted the SOTF flies to it. He cursed everyone he met so far, from Toolsa Oklahoma to the Saltine kid to Runny Riley to Dee the Deeva to Sally Mae War Spear to the Rifle guy. He especially cursed Gene. Asa's throat still throbbed when he thought about how Gene tried to strangle him.

The evening announcements would arrive in a few hours. In a few hours, Asa would know if he killed Gene or not. He did slash Gene's chest, and that had to cause some issues. He knew Rifle Randy didn't mortally wound Gene if the fingers in the popcorn machine were any indication. Still, in a few hours, Asa would know if anyone would be coming after him and try to claim his head.

Asa shook his head. Nothing was going his way, no matter how much he tried to plan around it. He couldn't ally with anyone, he couldn't cause any real damage to the arena, and he wasn't even worth taking seriously. He tried to imagine what the people at home were thinking. They were probably laughing at him. The short, fat, angry guy who yells and curses at everyone and has terrible things happen to him. They probably saw him as someone the universe was conspiring against, and they were probably mocking him for it.

He could see them now. The SOTF fans, with their Jared Clayton t-shirts and their Verizon cell phones, all getting on their computers and heading to their favorite SOTF forum. They'd be running bets on who could win, what their favorite moments of the season are, and more stuff Asa found to be pretty stupid. He figured they were probably also doing analyses of each person, and the stuff on his thread was probably scathing. He doubted he had any fans at this point. Why should he? Everyone else was an idiot who enjoyed the violence, and he was the only person who knew just how fucked up this game was.

He could see the post in the thread:

Hey, I found Rosen's blog. He writes a bunch of angry articles about random shit. It's hilariously bad. Check it out here: http://gardenofthorns.com/homepage

Knowing internet communities, they probably found the blog as soon as the casting announcements were made. He could see the forum comments before. Asa's blog was never popular enough to qualify for ad space, but he was sure it would be now. People flooding to the site to see more of the cranky guy on TV who falls on ice and screams at everyone he meets. Trolls probably took it over. No one would care what he thought about the disappearing middle class. No one would find his thoughts on how a flood in southeast Asia represented failings of many local governments worth reading. They'd see his blog, and they'd throw their moronic comments out.

Man, what a pussy.

Hey, isn't this that guy on SOTF with the stupid shawl?

Asa Rosen is a dumb.

Much anger. Much ranting. No talent.

0/10 would not read again.

It made him feel sick.

Asa buried his face in his hands, pushing his glasses up, and let out a groan. He was done with this shit. He wanted to go home so badly, back to relative obscurity. He could reappear in the spotlight after going to college and publishing a bestselling book. He was just done having his brand associated with this stupid TV show.

That's when Asa slowly lowered his hands, a blank look on his face revealed. It just occurred to him how powerful that word was. "Brand." SOTF was a brand. The companies that attached themselves to the shows were brands. They all had icons, people to represent them, and the ability to shift consumer opinion based on how they promoted themselves. All of them were hoping that whoever came out of the resort would be able to carry their product and their image and bring millions of dollars worth of revenue in. People like Brandon Parker, Jared Clayton, Dylan Calloway, Karen Ruiz, Mason Ross, and more all were able to leave SOTF and create an impact, no matter how they did on the show. All because they survived and they had their names put out in the public sphere.

A smile grew on Asa's face. Lots of people were dependent on whoever won SOTF. Why couldn't that be him?

Asa got out of his seat and began to look around the cabana. He started to open drawers and cabinets, desperately searching. It was then that he found a small notepad in one of the bedside dressers. It was a small notepad with the resort name on the top. There was a pen with the resort brand also on it next to the pad. Asa took the pad and the pen out of the desk and returned to his seat, keeping the axe by his side. Asa then did what he did best: he wrote. The paper was small, so he had to double side each piece of paper. He managed to go through several sheets of paper in the process, spending the next hour writing on the small pad of paper. He chuckled to himself as he wrote, his eyes growing wide as the pen glided across the paper. He tried to ignore everything else around him; the pain in his hand, the growing need to use the bathroom, the worry that someone might come in. He ignored it all, and he wrote.

When he finished, he looked at what he had created, a large grin on his face. He read over what he read once more.

The Manifesto of Asa Josiah Rosen

The following text is the credo that I, Asa Josiah Rosen, will be following from this moment to the end of my time on SOTF. Whether it is because I am killed in the line of action or because I manage to survive the game, whether it be through team victory, the ten kill rule, or individual victory, this will serve as an explanation for my actions in the game. Whoever finds this is free to carry it with them and apply it to their own personal strategy for this game. Or, they could just as easily post it online if they get the chance. I wouldn't be surprised if that happened, but I would like you to acknowledge this as my work and not your own.

I'll cut to the chase: I'm pissed off. I've always had a sour temper, and I know it. I think it's mostly because I didn't have a very good time in elementary school. I never really knew how to talk to people, and that simply made them see me as someone to target. I've probably heard every insult an elementary school aged person could hear. I decided that if they were going to shout at me, I'd just shout back louder. That's probably what pushed me to pursue a career in criticism and critical theory.

However, now that I've found myself forcibly entered into this tournament of madness, I've discovered just how quiet I am. I can shout and scream all I like, but I'm going to be drowned out by larger personalities. There are people in this game who are probably going to get more focus than me, and I'm probably not even providing enough to justify watching the scenes of me that appear on the feed. At the same time, it's easy to drown me out when there are overworked, sleep deprived editors and producers watching everything that is going on and deciding what is being shown. I'm pretty sure that most of what I've done here never made it to air, and I think I can understand why.

I'm an asshole, but I'm not as bad as you people. I know this game is morally and ethically wrong, but I don't celebrate it like you. I have watched past seasons of SOTF, but I've never been too into it. I don't go to screenings, I don't bet online, and I rarely read anything SOTF outside of a season's airing. I mostly follow along, usually at a safe distance, just curious to see what bullshit has appeared on screen this time around. I watch SOTF because it is something to talk about, but I don't see it as something to celebrate. It's murder. Government mandated, publicly endorsed, heavily marketed murder. Before, I could shake my head at the bullshit and move on when it wasn't on, using what I looked up as tools to bring up if I ever had to argue someone about the show.

Having been put on the show has given me some much needed clarity. I've lived a comfortable life, and I've never had to go through the pain that the people on this show felt. I bet my parents and my sisters are at home, freaking out about what's happening to me. They're looking at photo albums, fielding calls from friends and extended family, and going through my possessions to determine what is worth keeping after I die. I really wish they'd just forget about me and move on. I'm not coming home, whether I survive or not, so they should just forget about me. I'm not worth associating with.

I say that, because I'm about to become someone not worth associating with. You can watch SOTF, thrill as the blonde cheerleader decapitated the science geek with only a nail file and her foot, then buy the crackers with her face on it when she wins the entire game, but you probably wouldn't find her that interesting a person outside of the game. No one who wins this game is worth getting close to. All the winners are spree killers who got to get a free pass. They've all got to live with that, and no amount of fame or excess is going to make them any happier.

That's why I've decided to give up on my public appearance. Believe me, I still want to cause a reaction, but what I'm about to do will not make anyone happy. I'm not going to be someone you'll enjoy watching. I'm not going to be someone you'll want to see make it out okay. I'm not someone who you'll want to buy merchandise from.

I am going to be the worst winner in SOTF history.

There's no point in trying to act like a good person here. It's clear to me now that any sort of morality is bullshit. This country endorses the murder of hundreds of teenagers each year with multiple seasons of this show. Everyone celebrates it, and if there is a God, he's damned this country to hell. I gave up on the notion of where I'll go after I die, and now I'm certain it won't matter. You'll be happy seeing me kill the other kids here, but you're going to regret it, because you're going to have to accept me.

I'm going to give you the worst season imaginable. I'm going to do unpleasant things, and not even the kind that get good ratings. I will hunt down and kill anyone who is playing the game. I know a lot of people will be pissed if repeat killers like Jewel Evans, Pia Malone, and so on are killed before they can live up to their potential. I know a lot of people will lose money from bets and from sponsorship opportunities.

At the same time, I'm not going to give you any reason to like me. I will kill people, but I will not be a likable guy. You'll probably hate me and write angry posts online, but you'll have to deal with it. I'm alive, and the people you like won't be. I will mock you as you watch me. I will slander the name of this show. I will make it so no one wants my ugly mug on their products or in their commercials. I will make a complete mockery of this show, and then I will force you to accept that I'm the only one getting out of this game alive. I'm am going to cost this game millions of dollars, and make this season so scorned that there will hardly be any reason to revisit it later.

Sure, you'll scorn me. You'll probably refuse to buy any books I try to publish. But frankly, I don't give a fuck about what you think. There's an audience that will accept me, and there are people who will want to hear from me. When I'm out of this place, I will ensure this game never recovers. I will take down everyone who supports this show and keeps it running. I will get people to never work again. I will destroy careers and cost people jobs, and I'll be smiling the entire time I do so, because I've given up any and all sympathy I could have and will have for anyone behind this show.

This will not be an easy task. It's going to take a lot of willpower and suppressing of human emotions to complete. I'm going to do it anyways. No one here is worth saving. I don't care about what becomes of me after this. I do know that it's what I'm going to do to get back at this show. I'm an unpleasant guy, but I'm also the one you're going to have to associate this season with. I'm going to set a standard you're going to have to remember for seasons to come. Once this show is finally dead, I'm going to finally be able to rest. Until then, I'm going to ensure you hate me.

I'll kill anyone who's trying to play the game.

I'll kill anyone you can attach your egos to.

I'll kill any heroes.

I'll kill anyone who can lead a group.

I'll kill anyone who supports this game while they fight to the death here.

I'll kill anyone who can make a lot of money off sponsorship if they survive.

Most of all, I'll kill anyone who tries to stop me.

Now you know. If you do read this, I hope you can at least understand why I'm doing this. The Asa Rosen back home would never do something of this nature, but the Asa Rosen who was kidnapped and conscripted into this game has chosen this path. I am not going to be someone to like. I won't give you witty one liners. I will continue to mock the viewers and the producers as I go about. I am going to be the biggest asshole who has ever been on this show, but I am also going to be the person you most associate with this season. I am going to leave such an ugly mark here that you won't ever want to watch this show again if it means that someone like me can survive.

Now you know, and I hope you're smart enough to be afraid.

Asa Rosen
December 17, 2020

Asa finished reading the manifesto. It wasn't perfect, especially since it was done in just one draft. It would have to do for now though. If he survived, he could write a better version of this and get it published somewhere big like Time or The New York Times.

Asa carefully tore the pieces of paper off the notepad, trying to make sure they stayed together. He folded the papers in half and put them in his pants pocket. He got out of his seat, stretching his back and cracking his knuckles. He always felt this way after an intense writing session. It made him feel so alive; that exhaustion that came after pouring his soul out onto the page.

Asa grabbed his axe and his daypack. He put all of Gene's stuff in his and left Gene's in the cabana. All that was left inside was some clothes and other useless stuff like clothes and a condom. Asa was prepared to leave when he noticed the camera in the corner of the room. He wondered if the people watching could see what he was writing. He wondered if they knew his plan, and were already reacting to it. Then he realized how dumb that would be. He hadn't said anything in nearly two hours, and most of that time was spent writing. There were bigger idiots to follow.

Asa chuckled as he approached the camera.

"You're going to regret picking me for this show," he said. "In fact, you better fire your casting director right now for the mistake he made."

Asa continued to chuckle as he made his way out of the cabana. He had a plan, and he was ready to enact it.

((CJ3 Asa Rosen continued in Reflection))