All eyes are on him, albeit with an obvious reluctance. The sergeant sighs and picks up a long, stiff piece of wood. This is officer training school – what the hell is a mere sergeant doing as if he has anything to teach anyone here, of all places? There’s a simmer of obvious discontent in the eyes and expressions all around. The classroom comes to reluctant attention. He wrinkles his nose as if he’s smelled something unpleasant. His insignia proclaims him to be a Sergeant-At-Arms, and he glares at the presumptive classroom of budding officers with an expression bordering on disgust. He has an patch across one eye, with a livid scar crossing from cheek to forehead underneath its rigid fabric.

The light smattering of chatter abruptly silences as a tall, disheveled man enters the room. They’re the best wordsmiths this generation has to offer. They intend to give themselves, heart and soul, to the word wars. They’re not even sure why they’re in a classroom at all – none of them has anything left to learn. They have lived and breathed Scrabble for most of their young lives. There’s a kind of nervous energy here – each of them was the top of their class during cadet vocabulary training and now they’re here to become leaders. Their haircuts so precise and straight that you could use them to hang a painting. The room is filled with austere wooden chairs and desks, behind which are two dozen or so fresh-faced and uniformed officer candidates. You can see the frequency chart for English on one wall, with a graph of the evolution of the Arabic lettering system hanging beside it. Wood paneled walls draw the eye and upon these are hung various posters and swish infographics. The camera pans over a worn but well-maintained class-room. TL DR: Absolutely amazing! Don't bother reading any farther, just go try it.ĭay One: Officer Training School, Scrabble Academy

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