"Red!" your mother exclaims, "Do the colors in this game mean anything?"
You look back at the rules. "Yep!" you say, "Apparently you need to pick one of us to trade a trait with."
"Trade a trait?" your mother blinks, "Well I'm not sure what that means, but alright. Hmmmm..." Your mother looks micheviously at you. "Well, I suppose I'll just have to pick my little Bri-Bear."
You blush at the pet name. "C'mon, mom," you mumble, "Now you need to somehow get a card from the dispenser I guess."
As if in response to your words, a faint whirring is heard, and a card is ejected from the dispenser face-down onto the table. The LED display on top blinks a message: LARGER TRAITS MAY TAKE LONGER TO CHANGE.
A bit awed by the machine's ability to recognize she needed a card, your mom picks up the thin piece of white plastic. Her brow furrows a bit as she reads the card.
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