The Official Video Game Short Story Thread

Day 6

They keep coming. Faster this time. Like rain, but this is nothing from the heavens. God wouldn't send such pain onto His people. This comes from the depths of hell. It's what I tell myself. It helps.

If I can get things level, the burden eases. I become more grounded. But somtimes it gets difficult. My eyesight isn't so good anymore. If one thing falls out of place then the pressure builds. My heart pounds as I can see the end. It's all closing in around me. But then I get a gift from above. The exact thing I needed most. It makes me think there actually is something looking out for me.

I've decided I hate the fat one. There's no where for him to go. He just sits there, obtrusive, destroying everything I tried to build. He always seems to show up at the wrong time. The oppoisite is true for the skinny one. He doesn't seem to show up enough. I think I hate him too. If only he wasn't worth so much to me.

It never ends. Clearing it out just makes it come faster. Sometimes I just want to slump down and let it pour over me. Let it build up until there is nowhere left to go. Then it will be all over and I will be free at last.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Del Murder

Day 6

They keep coming. Faster this time. Like rain, but this is nothing from the heavens. God wouldn't send such pain onto His people. This comes from the depths of hell. It's what I tell myself. It helps.

If I can get things level, the burden eases. I become more grounded. But somtimes it gets difficult. My eyesight isn't so good anymore. If one thing falls out of place then the pressure builds. My heart pounds as I can see the end. It's all closing in around me. But then I get a gift from above. The exact thing I needed most. It makes me think there actually is something looking out for me.

I've decided I hate the fat one. There's no where for him to go. He just sits there, obtrusive, destroying everything I tried to build. He always seems to show up at the wrong time. The oppoisite is true for the skinny one. He doesn't seem to show up enough. I think I hate him too. If only he wasn't worth so much to me.

It never ends. Clearing it out just makes it come faster. Sometimes I just want to slump down and let it pour over me. Let it build up until there is nowhere left to go. Then it will be all over and I will be free at last.

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(SPOILER)Nice. Took me a while to get that it was Tetris.

I love all the contributions so far. Del's sort of reminded me of this.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Pike

I love all the contributions so far. Del's sort of reminded me of this.

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That was awesome.

Please dig with due care
We cannot afford a death
Mark them with a flag

Chomping for my life
The big pellet in my grasp
Now I'm the hunter

If I keep digging
I'll find those nasty dragons
And blow them all up

(SPOILER)keeping with the arcade theme we've got going here :tongue:

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Jiro

Please dig with due care
We cannot afford a death
Mark them with a flag

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(SPOILER) Mine sweeper right? :D
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LHY8N...eature=related

@ Pike Lmao at that vid xD

haha so funny how u ppl can 'hide' games like mario and tetris behind story's like that :P

This was a story I wrote as an aggressive, lengthy insult for some Megatokyo forumite who wrote a really incredibly stupid Zelda poem.
It's the first and oldest piece of work I ever placed online. I hating putting original work online, and I haven't been to MT in eons, so I may as well res this piece of crap here for you pitiful souls to suffer through.
Some of it prolly won't make sense.
And there's no mystery about the video game of this story. At least, not if you've ever played a video game. I suppose somebody like Amerigo Vespucci wouldn't know, but it isn't his fault. He died a long time ago.
-----------------------------

Thou Shalt Not Steal

Well, that bastard pig-demon has taken advantage of my mercy and come back for more punishment. I should have known that simple silver arrow could not quench his hate.
His countless minions drove down from the mountains in an avalanche of rock spitting arachnids, arrow shooting fat things, and grass hopping… grass hopping crab-like things that also have a lot of legs, whatever they are-
They swarmed into the castle while I was away, away fighting off something or other for some farmer chick, ya know, getting those last few thrills before marriage, ya know, and…
They took my princess hostage. Again. Damn it!

When I came back to my place, expecting to see my beautiful, gigantic, human love machine, I was greeted by a couple of saps in Hyrulian military uniform, tights, and they told me that the princess was gone. Again.
Those worthless bastards. Here I am, a four foot tall elf, a little chubby around the waist, and these humans stand before that figure of me and claim that they can’t save the world when I can. It was absolutely preposterous. Complete nonsense. Without a word, I left. I just started walking back to the mountains. I figured I’d just go up and get her back, the same way I always do. We walk through some dungeons, find keys, kill “bosses.” Let’s do it.

It was seven days after I left my place before I realized that I had made a crucial mistake. I was so hasty to leave that I only brought my sword and shield. Now, when you have a spell reflecting, all projectile blocking, full body shield of golden brilliance and a legendary, infallible, infinitely powerful, Hyrulean Excalibur of a Magic Master Sword as your only equipment, you’re usually pretty well off. But, however, such was not the case for me. Here’s why:

Ya see, I had found a little group of blue barbarian monsters camping at the base of one mountain north of the castle. Apparently, they were a little tipsy, and they began to squabble over some arrow or another. I charged out from behind a rock and killed every slobbering brute of them, but one seemed to find a hidden reflex in its drunkenness and managed to hurl a bomb at me before passing away under my mighty blade. The bomb struck the mountain, and, with a jingle from the heavens, the rocks parted for my entrance. I ripped a couple explosives off one of the dead critters and, with an elfin screech, ran into Gannon’s chilly hideaway.
Clad in blue mail and wielding razor sharp broadswords, the knights of darkness assaulted me upon my entrance. With their steady march, they surrounded me and closed in. I dodged their blows, and maneuvered around their majestic capes to supercede their strategy with my skill in the art of killing. Blah blah blah….

Only after I had dragged their corpses into the center of the room and built a pyramid of carcasses and then pushed some blocks into a perfect pentagram around their bodies in accordance with the sound of four musical chimes being struck in unision by a series of well-timed bombs did the secret door open. And as soon as the steel clanged against the rock, a spiked cube rushed out from the darkness. I hoped over it; Gannon ought to know that I am far too seasoned a veteran dungeon raider to fall for such traps.

What I didn’t expect was for the darkness of the room beyond to spread to mine. Suddenly, I was blinded, and I hadn’t brought a candle with me. Next came a sturdy clamp on my left arm. I pulled free, acidic goo dripping off my sleeves, and realized, despite my temporary blindness, that my shield was missing. “You crusty”-
I cleaved the monster before me, but I could feel more all over me. They bit at me, their eyes didn’t glow, and their slimy remains did stick to my finely groomed hair. I remember just swinging in all directions. Even my blade did not provide the dimmest light, but it did chop up monsters. I sunk my weapon in with many a spewing flesh chunk, and ripped it out to cause a chain reaction of repetitive cleave strokes. I stomped across the increasingly squishy ground and bombed a Dodongo before it could begin to realize that it’s thundering footsteps gave away its location.
The rush of the slaughter brought on enough energy to run through the black rooms. I gripped my sword in both hands and hacked through anything, living or nonliving, that got in my way. I had cast away all the grace and style that I had prized so greatly in the past. I had no more bombs so I kicked through weak walls, I had no boomerang, so I simply didn’t miss when I swung my sword, I had no wand, no candle, and no bow. When the one eyed crabs came, I just stabbed them in the eye. Maybe an arrow shows more class, but a sword works just as well!
Behind the roomful of crabs, there was a doorway, and, as usual, Gannon was standing there, confining himself to some tiny room and awaiting my arrival. He just wasted his time waiting for me. No wonder he hated all life, his sucks!

As I entered the room, Gannon cleared his throat in preparation for his painstakingly crafted villain speech. We both knew that a boss fight could never begin properly without the villain first imparting some pretty grouping of hateful four syllable words. I walked up to his face and felt a puff of rancid air clutter my sense of smell. The first and only word spoken in Gannon’s eloquent speech was the word, “The.”
Instead of listening, I lopped off that ugly head of his neck and shoved his porky body into a fire pit conveniently located on the side of the room.
There were lots of fire pits. Their purpose was clearly for some form of intimidation. I was just concerned with cooking up some fresh pork. Unfortunately, among all the equipment I had forgotten, forks and knives were included. And barbeque sauce. How can I eat Gannon without a fork or barbeque sauce? I let the Gannon roast while I hunted for Zelda. Her dress was hung on a hook, which was good, because I love seeing Zelda naked, but her perfect body was nowhere to be seen.

Angrily, I turned back to the dead monster over the fire, but there, instead of a headless pig, I saw my beloved. Very headless, and very juicy, her flesh getting to its most succulent point by now; Zelda was roasting over Gannon’s hell fire! As I stared in shock, I heard a voice behind me.
“I bet you wish you killed me now!”
I turned to the monster, stuttering, “B-But h-h-how? How are you alive?”
It sneered, “Remember the silver arrow you green turd? You can’t kill me without one of those!”
I snarled back, “You’re supposed to leave one lying around here you jack-hole! I fought through this entire dungeon and didn’t find a single treasure that could focus on any of your monster’s weak points!”
“But you did see a silver arrow.” The hog was gloating now. “The moblins outside the fort were squabbling over it. You simply didn’t take the time to fetch it from them. You let your blind rage get the best of you, now, didn’t you.”
“Thou Shalt Not Kill!” I shrieked.
(SPOILER)That line doesn't make sense unless you read the stupid poem that inspired me to write this drivel

Gannon nodded. He walked over to the princess, who was beginning to burn, and kicked a chip of charcoal off her leg. “I think you’ve done enough killing. Give me that Triforce of power.”


So I traded him the tri-force for some paper and a pen. He said he’d mail this out for me. At least the next hero won’t make the same mista-

The day had started off like any other day. I was just out with my friends, kicking around our ball. We were having a lot of fun. All of the adults were away, something about a large operation of some sort. I didn't quite understand it at the time. I wish I could have held on to such blissful ignorance.

The day took a turn for the worst near noon. It was hardly nothing, actually. It was just the first link in the chain of terrible events. Someone had come and talked to me. I told him my dreams of being a pro-athlete, but I doubt he understood me. My grammar was terrible back then. Soon after, he kicks my ball. He must have been a pro, himself; the ball went flying for probably half a mile, at least. I'm sure he had the best of intentions, he was probably just showing me proper technique. In the boredom that followed, I decided to go back home, and take a nap. My day of playing had worn me out. My parents told me that they wouldn't be long, looking back I now realize the pained look in their face as they had told me this. I didn't notice the look back then, however. How I wish that I didn't have to constantly be reminded, be tortured, by their pained look. How I wish I could still have that blissful ignorance.

Waking from my nap, my parents were not yet home. Something loud had woken me up. It sounded as if my home had exploded. I look around, and nothing. The sound came from the north, from the beach. Instantly, in my head, in my ignorant smurfing little head, I think fireworks. I think about the big party that must be on the beach. That was what my parents were doing, that was what everyone's parents must have been doing. They were planning and throwing a festival. How I wish that there was that festival. How I wish I could still have that blissful ignorance.

As I ran to the beach, not even looking up, in a full-force sprint, I saw my dearest friend. He saw the smoke in the air, the thick, black smoke. He was worried for his parents. They too were at the operation. I told him to come, I told him it was bonfire smoke, and fireworks smoke. I told him it was the only thing it could be. I told him all that my ignorant little mind had told me. He came with me, the poor, poor kid. I told him we'd see my parents on the way. They were coming to get me. They told me they would come back. This was why. That's what I told him. He believed me. We ran to the beach, expecting the largest festival we'd ever seen in our lives. Only one person tried to stop us, but we weren't going to miss out on the party. We ran onto the beach. Ahead of us lied hundreds, if not thousands of dead bodies. The parents of all my friends, the parents of the friend I had brought here, my own parents. Finally, after hearing the story, I realized what a fool I was. My friend found his parents before I found mine. He never left their side. He wouldn't. He starved there. He let himself die, and it was all my fault. I was alone now, alone forever. I would have killed myself just like my friend if my dream hadn't kept me alive, kept me going, and my dream is thus: I want to be a blitzball player when I grow up.

“I’ve always hated the rain. Not so much the water soaking my skin as the electricity in the air I associate with it. Fell thunder elementals and Mardu Entites. How is a man supposed to provide for his self and his family when these creatures are haunting our hunting grounds near or far? My livelihood depends on my ability to skin wolves and hyenas and pluck teeth and bones from deadly behemoths. The rains add that I must avoid combating anywhere near these vicious elementals or simply avoid using Magicks. It’s fine not to use Magicks. I can fell a beast without. But those entities are touchy. You can’t ever be cautious enough with them. One misstep and you’re dog meat. Even as I pluck the feathers out the hide of a cockatrice, I spy a Mardu creeping up on the horizon. Time to head home… and I’ven’t even collected but a day’s worth of scraps to sell at the Bazaar. I hate the rain.” - Dalmascan Scavenger

I admit it's not really a short story, but this sort of popped into my head anyway.