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I dug up an old idea for a game I had and some body horror/parasite stuff, and decided to start writing a story combining the two things. (Yes, I know I still have an unfinished story, I've just hit a wall with it and don't want to stare at it for another hour trying to make something work.) I wrote this first paragraph in about 10 minutes and didn't polish it up too much, so feel free to tear it apart.

They said that the game changed you, stripping away your reliance on sight and opening your ears. For Darius, it was an old friend. It had started with a blindfold, wadded-up paper, and two bored siblings wanting to play a game their parents watched. They had grown up with the game their whole lives, their parents building makeshift arenas for them to play in and buying simple Nerf guns, which they then expanded into an unused skating park. Soon enough, the neighbor’s kids joined in, and they formed teams. Then, school friends started watching and playing as well. When they were finally old enough to sign up for the real games, they were already better than half of the people there, quickly rising through the ranks with their group of five. Their team was called the Nightingales, and the nickname of Shades for their members quickly caught on. They caught the attention of the news, and recordings of their fights skyrocketed in popularity as others tried to emulate their tactics. That all changed when they received an email one morning.

Dear Nightingales,

The shadows have whispered your team’s name, and we formally invite you to the inaugural Shadowed Summit, the largest Umbra tournament ever held, featuring an array of custom-designed, highly challenging arenas with special obstacles not found in standard play, all designed to push the mastery of unseen combat to its absolute limit. We seek the best to test their instincts, teamwork, and strategic thinking.¹

Sincerely,
Aethelgard Structures

¹ Yes, this was made with AI. This is only because the company that sent this email used AI for said email. I’m not going to contaminate my own writing style trying to emulate the AI slop whenever I can get the filth straight from the source.

Edit: Minor grammatical mistakes

2nd Edit: Added the Email

The harsh fluorescent lights illuminate Nayli as she works on another trap, her robotic arms welding pieces together, tinkering with a hundred different tiny cogs within the contraption. One of them holds a sandwich up to her mouth, and she takes a bite, never looking away from her project. Four more hold her up, forming an impromptu suspension system that absorbs the occasional small tremor that courses through the train. Another arm reaches over to a big, clunky device that looks like it has been torn apart and modified one too many times, and turns it on. She sets the trap down on the ground and steps on it, scowling whenever nothing happens. As Nayli picks it back up, the arm turns off the device, and a whirlwind of activity starts again. The sound of footsteps on the carpeted floor breaks her concentration some time later, and she looks up at Darius. 

“Still working on the new trap? How long have you been working on that one?
“About three days by now. I still can’t figure out how to bypass the newest 'safety' measures they’ve implemented into the Trapfinder's Vigil.”
“That doesn’t look like any Vigil I recognize.”

She shrugs, the arms still working around her, making it difficult to see.

“It was pathetically weak, so I added a few upgrades.”

One of the arms separates from the organized chaos and opens up a box, bringing out a sandwich.

“Want one?”
“I’m fine, thanks. Are you going to be able to finish the trap in time?”
“If you mean the trap that works with the new iteration of stupidity, then I’ve already finished it. This one, however, might take a little longer. Would you mind asking Mr. ___ about the new arenas? I want to make some specialized traps for them.”
“I’ll see what I can do. Good luck getting them past the security, though. I’ve heard they have the best in the country.”

A smirk tugs at her lips, and she bites into her sandwich, speaking around the food.

“I’m sure I can manage.”