War Robots Online: The Climb to Master League

A New Style of Storytelling

Recently, I've been researching ways to improve writing, and was studying teaching techniques. I wanted to help Collin depict that day when he and his early friends lost that one match against the devs. He was having PTSD, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, where the person has flashbacks of events, causing trauma and fear. It can be get over with, but not easily. I do believe there is more to him, he just needs to get over some things first.
"Hey Bella, what are you looking at?" Collin asked me.
"Oh, just some educational content. Gotta make sure we don't forget what we learned in school!" I replied.
"That makes sense, although I do remember how to solve absolute values equations, graphs, and some other forms from Algebra I. It's really not that hard to forget if you put the effort through." He replied back.
I saw it in his eyes. He was hiding something from us. The AuraNerve has the functionality to read the mind's signals to other parts of the body and mimic what it would then have the muscles do, reactions, color (which happens when you get slapped), and the other things your body is able to do. I was studying biology before I got trapped in this game, and I had just aced my human anatomy test, not that is was my favorite subject, (in fact, plants were my favorite).
"Hey Collin? I want to ask you something."
"Hm?"
"How do you feel about losing, when it causes devastating results?"
"It's, something that's not easy to deal with. Losing is natural, it's really the effects on your thinking that affect you and your thoughts." He replied.
"Well, I want you to read this form I made for you. It make take an hour or two, but this will help when you are done."
I handed the form to him, then left to do some work. I had managed a way to communicate with the outside world from inside the game. Most sites were blocked, but the developer would never have thought to ban video sites. We could comment and communicate from there. I had been talking to officials in the base country where the game's server was. Canada. {no offense to Canada, but that seems like the ideal location that I think would work for this story}

One hour later, I returned to check on Collin, he was typing something up on his screen. I could see how concentrated he was while typing. Small pupils, large iris, blank expression. He tended to be unconscious when focused alone. This was a game, so he wouldn't damage his eyes when kept open for long amounts of time. I walked past him. I knew what he was typing, as I had instructed to write a 7 paragraph story, with no word limit, introduction, and closing. He was allowed to use first person words, even pronouns at the beginning of sentences. This wasn't your ordinary language arts project, this was a story coming together, unlike Lucy, whose diary was just short descriptions, as she didn't intend to add most thought and being thorough.