Valentine Games

is a lineup player for the Vault Legends, and has been with the team since the ILB Semi-Centennial. Games has previously played for the LA Unlimited Tacos, Houston Spies, New York Millennials, Breckenridge Jazz Hands, Baltimore Crabs, and Hawai'i Fridays.
==Official League Records==
===History and Feedback Swaps===
Games joined the league as a member of the Baltimore Crabs at the beginning of . They have since been a part of four feedback swaps, joining the Breckenridge Jazz Hands (in place of Tot Fox) on , Day 25; the New York Millennials (in place of Conrad Vaughan) on , Day 22; the Houston Spies (in place of Andrew Solis) on Season 6, Day 51; and finally the Unlimited Tacos (in place of NaN) on , Day 6.
===Season 3 Peanut===
On Day 98, Games swallowed a stray peanut and had a yummy reaction, which increased Games's rating from to .
===Blooddrain===
On , Day 15, Games's defense ability was siphoned by Kansas City Breath Mints batter Marquez Clark in a game with Blooddrain weather, bringing it from to .
On Season 7, Day 56, Games siphoned some of Hades Tigers pitcher Yazmin Mason's hitting ability in a game with Blooddrain weather, bringing it from to .
Throughout Season 10, Games's defense ability was absolutely destroyed by various Blooddrain incidents. Just mangled. Devastated. One-starred. Luckily, the other players on the Tacos have been kind and understanding as usual, and are willing to pick up the fielding slack in exchange for Games's obscure but helpful tips on hitting dingers.
In Season 11, Games led the league in home runs with 41. 
During the Coffee Cup, Games played for Atlético Latte as a lineup player.
During the , Games had several stats boosted as a result of the , and blessings.
Games was traded to the Hawai'i Fridays in exchange for Greer Gwiffin during the via the Fridays' will.
After Day 99 of , Games was Preserved.
During the ILB Semi-Centennial, Games played for the Vault Legends as a lineup player.
==Please Enjoy A Selected Poem By Valentine Games==
<choose>
<option>::Fragment (03-47)
:the ephemeral flicker of 
:life and death on the diamond
:lost souls blacking out the sky
:maybe combs won't
:eat shit today</option>
<option>::Fragment (03-51)
:last year, i missed the sun
:but now
:the birds still deny me
:even one taste</option>
<option>::Poem (for Beasley Gloom)
:what does tomorrow mean to any of us? postseason? uncertainty?
:the day i learn whether or not i have
:a peanut allergy? why won't they release my medical records?
:o! to have an untroubled brain, small and smooth as a grape
:between my fingers! free at last!</option>
<option>::Fragment (03-89)
:the thundering crack 
:of bat against ball
:cannot change history
:it's party time
:gazing over the limestone cliff
:my time will come, and yours
:let the blalls flall where they will</option>
<option>::Fragment (03-95)
:tillman was the first 
:to have it cross his lips 
:do not dwell on how much 
:of the world remains unknown 
:the softness 
:of real grass? the voices 
:of the incinerated? 
:◊▨◴ ▦▨◉■◬▨◯◮? the possibility 
:that he could be a far better man 
:if the gods would let him bat</option>
<option>::Fragment (03-98)
:i cannot separate 
:the taste 
::::of
:this       n       ‎u       t
:from the ecstatic 
:salt of my tears
:i felt my insides well up with dread
:i didn't know
:what kind of reaction it would be
:the buzzing - my heart - stopping or starting</option>
<option>::Poem (for a Would-Be Fan)
:if you haven't tried it you might
:like it; if you find your feet steady
:on base, next seek the immaterial
:plane; of the triangle of the
:bat of the ball and your 
:head they circle like
:the birds in the 
:furthest eaves
:of the stad-
:-ium
:caw
:caw</option>
<option>::Picklestein's Query
:free of trouble or concern -
:or free of restraint?
:everything - or nothing?</option>
<option>::Fragment (??-??)
:i entered my old isolation
:tank to play a game
:of catch-up         but lo,
:in siesta time
:      there is no sleep 
:my physiology
:      is not mine to keep</option>
<option>::Poem (to Hotbox Sato)
:on to the next struggle - or the last - 
:the hype before 
:the crash, the encasement
:                        of breath            of 
:wandering forward wondering 
:what will be done to you next
:no fight is static
:that's how they get you</option>
<option weight="2">::Letter #1 (to Pedro)
:in the airspace between
:the solid wood of seasons,
:mountains out of scale
:as they scrape closer
:they stopped waking us up
:stopped calling practices
:yet we still shuffle onto the field
:hunched over with equipment bags
:would we run out our hundred games
:as a music box, our die-cut parts
:working in harmony, jerking, slowing
:under the sun's baleful eye?
:our teammates speak in corners
:between drills, too quiet to hear
:what is there to keep track of
:except the tides
:everybody says "yearning"
:everybody says "g-d is asleep"
:the wind says ""
:the wind says "not the same"
:anyway, how have you been? i'll see you
:on break - i'll save you
:an extra orange or two
:for scurvy</option>
<option>::Fragment (04-05)
:i might be free
:a being of will
:but are my limbs,
:my mouth, 
:the parts of a whole?</option>
<option>::Poem (to Halexandrey Walton)
:yes! o! you will wriggle clean 
:of your previous legal obligations
:shedding a heavy coat and escaping into the waves
:(which come with their own legal obligations)</option>
<option>::Fragment (04-26)
:we are all
:worms
:hiding deep
:or baring
:our faces
:to thrash
:in the rain</option>
<option>::Fragment (04-77)
:woke up 
:from my pregame ▰◊◴▵◉■▫▨◉▵▰▻
:dugout floor; fluorescent bulb humming
:they said "all our pitchers are lost;
:august flew; forbes laying low;
:it's your turn. get up. get to the mound."
:then, woke again - walton was there
:instead. sports is back, baby.</option>
<option>::Fragment (05-65)
:i could feel the wave approaching
:blistering, enveloping
:but it stopped - short -
:i'll be fucked if i'll ever let them
:make me pitch</option>
<option>::Poem (a Snack for August)
:hwæt! it's that lovely turn of the season
:where everybody
:gets absolutely twisted
:bet you've never seen
:a blue jay
:shoot tequila
:i went down to
:the sleven-eleven
:orange powerade, spicy kung pao 
:shrimp flavored novelty chips -
:cinnamon fireballs - 
:sad approximation - 
:of a black and white
:five minutes, 
:milling around
:in sunglasses
:at night
:take your pick</option>
<option weight="2">::Letter #2
:i must apologize
:i have been quiet this week
:straining to adjust to the altitude
:something odd in their faces
:whispering to each other in the wings
:laughing resonance of massage circles
:dark figures fosse-ing through
:the shadowed alleyway out my window
:fastest team in the evil league
:i've tried to catch holden's eye
:but he's assimilated 
:all fours 
:eating trash off 
:the snowy ground
:late-night cats singalongs
:(perhaps his soul is sleeping
:he keeps it in his jaw)
:on the field, our path
:is marked with a single bright line
:when the ground catches fire
:the survivors have only
:one place to run - zero
:degrees of freedom
:the evolutionary theory
:of punctuated equilibrium
:states that lasting change 
:is driven by cataclysm
:so let us greet chaos with open hands
:to hasten the birth of new claws
:we will soon meet at the crossing
:grey-faced, i wait for the lights to drop
:if i ascend first - i will carry you with me</option>
<option>::Poem (Season 5 Playoffs)
:::I.
:spooked
:hooked
:or snagged
:patterson's look -
:uncanny
:top
:of eleven -
:pass me
:a xanny
:tammy! 
:on base
:comfort
:mistaken
:hobbs, hobbled
:won't walk
:how i loathe
:the talk
:ers
:::II.
:i am a prussian infantryman
:waiting for a horse
:to kick me in the head.</option>
<option>::Farewell to August
:::I.
:eke out more stars
:(sweat blood and bone)
:so you stand above the rest - then
:let the jazz hands catch you
:::II.
:so i say
:ad nauseum
:"we are all replaceable parts
:in a broken machine"
:but!
:august - we were here
:your pitching the call
:the melody
:our defense the response
:orchestral swell
:::III.
:hands clasped
:in victory
:a chorus line howling
:"fuck the moisties"
:"those guys are truly the worst"</option>
<option>::Poem (Greetings)
:many corners, many stores
:in the organic city, carved out 
:from concrete and always
:stepping on something or
:running from the same    crash   honk
:are crabs and millennials 
:not both known bottomfeeders?
:catch me in the benthic zone
:once again</option>
<option weight="2">::Nocturne #1
:well! what did you all think 
:a dog was, anyway? what did you think
:they ate? did you think 
:there were no bargains, and no ugliness
:to be found here or there
:or on the way out?
:thomas is flickering his light
:on and off again - only a thin curtain
:separates one domain from another.
:we putter, we pretend. drip. drip. 
:ignore it. nothing more natural than
:the flow of water carving out time
:and mixing itself into turbulent newness
:but where it goes, and when
:is increasingly a matter of design
:so when schneider says "val, pass me 
:the pipe wrench-" well it's increasingly
:hard to pretend i can't hear them
:on the other side of the curtain</option>
<option>::Null #1
:"combs?           nora?"
:proven?     impossible
:bird?         carnivorous
:miscreant?   neutered
:siesta  dans la brèche
:this'un lags no larger
:- wouldn't shock me!</option>
<option>::Fragment (06-77)
:shell              films delicately
:"keeeee-RUNCH! 
::::::PLAYBALL!"
:flaking it off of and with the
::new pair of strobe shoes 
:anticipatory          floodlights
:useful idiots to drive
:the getaway car into</option>
<option>::Fragment (To Millie)
:::I.
:mirage 
:::freeways          racing
:further  away, a scald
:thin 
:::::burnt
:unheimlich   no specialty
:::yearning, but not like
:::II.
:umbral ribbon!
:crowd-pleaser!</option>
<option>::Fragment (06-90)
:partytime angle grinder
:engine allegiant escrow
:weeping detente Donia
:heatstroke formation in
:transcontinent coalition
:colorful     distraction
:release                 null
:rewriting    provoked</option>
<option>::Fragment (06-98)
:bummer
:mis-un-fortunate      graveyard dirt
:::::"washing of hands, ergo..."
:discretely gearward and toothsome</option>
<option weight="2">::Letter #3
:m'dear brethren,
:::I.
:or?       memorial stash
:carving about-face
:totem of new volumes
:"never    that far ahead"
:::II.
:habitus question 
:- in effacement of 
:cogito     kin roulette
:cruel covenant 
::in service of 
:::hands 
::in service of
:::III.
:WHO
:::i ask you
:CAN     prematurely
:"say when."
::mantis head 
:: walking up  mushroomed
:as in the ballroom-dancing
:::IV.
:whether ball 
:::::window or teeth
:"literally, 
:::'one who looks at birds'..."
:a decision    whose delicacy 
:whose nature
:"and dreamy SMASHES it 
:::::like    an EGG!
:::V.
:i cannot tell my veins what to do
:i don't think anyone in this body 
:knows who they answer to
:::VI.
:what august told me - interior - 
:the old ship and its coating of pitch
:::VII.
:o the year
:::::waking conscript
:rejected the mechanic
:unified theory 
: loyal reenactment
:  rise          ye foolhardy</option>
<option>::Null #2
:THE division THE
:::fountain of pain
:"is plepsi ok?"               not
:::::::this lifetime</option>
<option>::Fragment (Ask Me Anything)
:3 03!!
:if you've a question
:::::::::i've an answer
:::, just for you"
::::::"bang BANG</option>
<option>::Empty File #1
:unlocked the ledger -
::::s wallow        E  G  G 
:::::will ow switch            runoff 
:::cold               hand         overwinter
::bean  spit    is    open   ground    scraping
:is   that   what   will  be   any   i      will       to            be</option>
<option>::Empty File #2
:i taste the air and in its
::dirtheat           oil       godhead
:::::smog-thick kudzu covered
:"it's CAMPAIGN SEASON,       b aby!"</option>
<option>::Circulation #1
:good manners n    blood customs
:::(related to: )
::take my divining stick   n   i -  hope - 
:take a      viscous quid pro quo
:::token of        expropriation
:golden     barrel 
:::"so   long!"   keening dry
::gift thirst 
:::grateful guest</option>
<option>::Circulation #2
:burgoo 
:             of 
:                 wooded
:                              memory
:                    sutured
:                hand
:            into
:      sulfured
:    jacket
: lining
:sharp    right n
::::dead: angle;   single; 
: ripe  n 
:type-bound  apex</option>
<option>::Poem (For Telephone)
:hold                     still
:a     space mosaic 
:sound occu pies to feel
:convex; huskboundary
:panels   acoustical  therein
: the pointillist's plan</option>
<option>::Fragment (Missing)
:-   ratio
:portion - torpor
:   torsion -   splort
:distortion - to nail
:tonality   solid -
:  dirtily     insipid</option>
<option>::Epigraph (Season 7)
:boil away
:dissipation     of vinegar and spite 
:concentration mounts like the pressure 
:    "to soar...on many wings"</option>
<option weight="2">::Letter #5
:::I.
:blood-tunable laserlikeness a lesser
:   you
:   are a talented puzzle
:easy upgrades escalated
:  ;as rolling hills of shark teeth
:the far off gum from whence i sprung
:ours missing    our jaw-mate    what made him flesh
:flesh of the spirit 
:he was   i think about my own contents - 
:   to be made 
:               of the same personable stuff
:      we saw it so clearly 
:call me
:         pitching machine
:::II.
:stringed instruction, o stored figure
:  identity dragged out from the same vein 
:plasma imprint    carbon fiber
:    dented-engrailed      as if bitten 
:as the flat-headed copy feared and discarded
:  no more     than each new hatchling
:wide open with its distinguishing spots
:         "look at what i can offer you -
:  love me 
:          data without organs
:::III.
:  can that love buy us time or solidity
:the further away from the now the more
:or less distinct yet    as we speak
:   we, overwritten    beyond sun-bleached
:        SO WHAT'S YOUR STORY NEW GUY
: to stabilize 
:    the sense of pushing through the gum 
:                           fully formed 
:without past 
:                     so 
:                         what makes a crab?
:the flowing potential
:              imminent    sideways
:    the same things that have made us all</option>
<option>::Fragment (08-FIN)
:torn         prodded
: loving trunbo claws
:yurts as far
:     as            the eye
:can
:               see
:we will be the ones 
:to taste it first
:everything we walk over
:the things we sever and grab</option>
<option weight="2">::Letter #4</option>
<option>::Elegy #0 (09-FIN)
:barroom arguments 
:dissolve and reform
:as smoke under fluttering glare -
:the shape of a taco, an outrage!
:its topology? an answer - 
:is demanded! 
:the shape of a taco 
:is a matter of action as 
:coordinated parts! movements - 
:in space and time! 
:a crunch - clogging the air 
:of possibility the medium 
:we move 
:::within - 
::::between -</option>
<option weight="2">::Letter #6  </option>
<option>::Poem (to Wyatt 10-50)</option>
<option>::Poem (Blackout 10-10)</option>
<option>::Poem ("We were busy figuring out who we were!")</option>
<option>::Poem (Scuttle Away 10-75)</option>
<option>::Poem (Batting Practice 10-32)</option>
<option>::Letter #7</option>
</choose>
(To read all the poems, click here. Refresh to get another one.)
==History==
Valentine Games joined the ILB as a member of the Baltimore Crabs, but fate had other plans for this charming wanderer.
Though Games has a nomadic heart, his devotion to the Crabs is one of the few constants in his life. The relationship is more than pure team loyalty. Games, an accomplished poet, believes in the inherent divinity of the natural world — and in a universe whose arc points towards the eventual carcinization of all living beings. Their clothes are often encrusted with ocean salt — a strange occurrence, given that not all the teams they've called home have been near the sea. Still, communing with nature, transcribing its messages, and seeking the greater mysteries of the world and Blaseball are core to their life, no matter what town they call home for the moment.
===Time with the Houston Spies===
Because Games has an interest in life's greater mysteries, spending some time with the Houston Spies was a natural choice. During a Feedback event during Game 51 of Season Six, Games, at that time with the New York Millennials, swapped places with then-Spies hitter Andrew Solis. The swap was mutually beneficial; Games gained access to the Spies' extensive collection of dossiers and information-gathering technology and Solis began his relationship with Dominic Marijuana prior to his incineration.
Games's time with the Spies was met with great enthusiasm. Her trademark "Valentine Triples" and solid defense helped the Spies become quite a formidable team during Season Eight. Off the Blaseball diamond, Games's natural curiosity also made them a prized spy. His dedication to seeking answers for the great mysteries of the world made them a natural choice for spywork, as well as their ability to redact documents to great poetic effect. Games also showed a distinct capability to find the strange, esoteric truth at the heart of things, opening up more mysteries for the Spies to explore as often as she turned up concrete evidence.
However, Games's deeper eccentricities were sometimes at odds with their spying ability. They had a tendency to speculate aloud, and would routinely walk away from assignments to pursue whatever whim the wind brought them.
Regardless of their performance as a spy, Games rapidly became the face of the Spies. His batting ability, effortless style, and unique personality made them a perfect fit for the spotlight — she became "The Spy of Love," the trenchcoat-clad wanderer with a artist's heart. The Spies' propaganda division encouraged Games to lean hard into this identity, including asking him to kiss the bat before each hit. Games was willing to play her part, earning the affection of numerous fans in the Spies as well as other teams. During interviews, Games often suggested their acceptance that Blaseball was where they belonged. She is quoted as saying, "Well... this is what I have to do. I go where the wind takes me, and the wind takes me to new places pretty frequently, so. I'm a spy now, in some sense."
But Games's wandering soul couldn't be content with just one team. Eager to investigate the strange phenomenon of the Flickering then-Unlimited Tacos player NaN, the Spies arranged a swap to make use of NaN's Flickering and the Feedback weather of Season 9, Day 6. Games volunteered to take NaN's place; Los Angeli was an interesting phenomenon, one she'd like to see for herself, and the sea called to him once again.
Though Games has left the Spies, his presence is still felt—blackout poetry adorns the walls of Spies HQ, Comfort Septemberish has taken up collage art from advertisements, and Math Velazquez has devised Math's own form of poetry with graphing calculators and sine waves.
===Time with the Unlimited Tacos===
Upon arrival in the rifts of Los Angeli following the Feedback swap, reports have come back fuzzy, with all firsthand accounts varying and surveillance camera footage completely glitching.
Because of this, little has been uncovered about Games post-Feedback to the Tacos. He has furthered this by denying to make any comment on his personal relationships with teammates, although, from her recently published blackout poetry, it appears she is beginning to grow fond of the team’s sense of family, and has begun to slowly reveal parts of their life in regards to previous travels.
===Time with the Hawaiʻi Fridays===
After nearly five seasons with the LA Unlimited Tacos, Valentine Games joined the Hawaiʻi Fridays as a result of the elections. The Fridays adapted to Games’ star power with unusual speed, placing them at the center of a quickly improving section of the lineup called “Vibes Row” by Fans. It took some time for Games to adjust to the overwhelmingly laid-back nature of the Fridays, but he fell into his role as the Friday’s star slugger and would eventually become a mentor to newer batters on the team.
Some credit Games' growing warmth for the team to her close friendship with Beck Whitney, another offensive powerhouse who joined the Fridays at the same election. Both new to the concept of island time, the pair would regularly be seen conversing after games at the Fridays’ cookouts before joining the festivities, and would practice together whenever possible. Games seemed to be most comfortable in Whitneyʻs presence, and nobody was more supportive during Games’ rise to MVP status.
Games was regularly in contention for the top MVP spots during the Expansion Era. Following the first Vaulting, Games knew that his days with the Fridays - and the ILB - were numbered. Reasonable but unflappable, Games remained a star player for the Fridays, helping bring the team to the ILB Championships against her old team, the Tacos, in .
After leading the Fridays to an all-time great - which was, correspondingly, one of the Fridays’ worst seasons due to the Turntables decree - Games was vaulted following Day 99. Their final game, at the Meadow in Kansas City, was attended by fans from all her previous teams in a sendoff match. Games hit only once in their final game with the Fridays, with a solo home run that was slam-dunked for a second point by Beck Whitney. 
==Fan Works==
File:Hottopic.png|Fanart of Valentine Games visiting Hlot Tlopic with a fan.
File:Val games.png|Valentine Games by 
File:133ValentineGames.png|Mini-Blaseballer by @HetreaSky
File:Flames of games real babey!!.png|Games by 
File:Gallery - Writing.png|Casually a mini-fic for Pedro and Val by corpsereviver
File:Gotta love the val.jpg|Games by @glassgoblin
File:Valentine Games, Tacos Partytime.png|Val enjoying the season 12 Party Time by ShorterSneakier
File:Valentine Games - GlassGoblin.png|Art of Valentine Games by 
File:Thats Hot™.jpg|alt=Hawai‘i Fridays players Beck Whitney and Valentine Games wearing black tank tops. Beck has her arms crossed in front of her, is wearing an oversized sunhat, and her bangs obscure her eyes. Val is wearing a light green blaseball cap with a white front and the Fridays island emoji icon in the center, and heart-shaped sunglasses.|Games & Beck Whitneyby Bells
File:♋︎.png|Games by @glassgoblin
File:Games in Gold.png|alt=A monochromatic gold and black digital drawing of Val Games, a muscular person with long very curly hair held back by a headband, heart sunglasses, a tank top, chitin on her face, and outspread golden wings. They are holding their neck with one hand, while the other is clenched around their elbow. He turns his face up to the sky with closed eyes and a neutral frown. The shadows on her are intense, and ve is backlit by the Coin looming in the background.|Games by @saltbuzzard
Category:Original Players
Category:Atlético Latte
Category:Hall Of Fame Inductees
Category:Hall Of Fame Inductees For Discipline or Expansion Era