Ethan's Gameboy: Difference between revisions

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(Created page with "Ethan was a young man just out of college who lived alone. He was quite a gamer, and was especially fond of classic gaming. One day he was browsing a local gamestore, which was his favorite because it had a dedicated retro section. That day he found an original Gameboy, which he affectionately called a “brick.” And it was only $20! He felt so lucky! After several weeks having no way to play his Gameboy games, he had almost given up on ever getting to play them agai...")
 
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Ethan was a young man just out of college who lived alone. He was quite a gamer, and was especially fond of classic gaming.
 
One day he was browsing a local gamestore, which was his favorite because it had a dedicated retro section. That day he found an original Gameboy, which he affectionately called a “brick"brick."
 
And it was only $20! He felt so lucky! After several weeks having no way to play his Gameboy games, he had almost given up on ever getting to play them again – until now. He took it home and started playing his older games as soon as he could, reliving (in his opinion) the glory days of gaming.
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The clerk just nodded politely while he was talking and once he had finished, suggested that due to the Gameboy being at least twenty years old, it probably had more than one problem internally. It was ancient electronics – something had likely, he suggested, fried or broken.
 
What else could Ethan do? He took the Gameboy and went home. After a while he decided to pop in another game, to see if maybe the clerk was right. Now, usually with this system, the “Nintendo”"Nintendo" logo would drift down, so imagine his shock when not that, but two words appeared. The font appeared to look like the scratches on a prison wall:
 
"HELP ME"
“HELP ME”
 
He barely had time to be surprised before the words fell to the center of the screen, a screech issued from the speaker, and the whole system just cut off.
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He couldn't believe his eyes. Quickly, he turned his lamp on and looked at it again. The Gameboy was on his bedstand and two words were on the screen:
 
“HELP"HELP ME”ME" It was the same font as before. As he was thinking about that, the words disappeared and another reappeared:
 
"PLEASE!"
“PLEASE!”
 
A wave of fear and desperation that seemed to emanate from the Gameboy hit him. He reassured himself that this mess had to be a dream. And he knew how to fix it.
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He turned the system over and popped open the battery compartment.
 
But the batteries could not be removed. They were so corroded that it appeared impossible for the system to run at all. He looked away and rubbed his eyes. What kind of a nonsense dream was this? he had just put batteries in the day he tried to return the Gameboy! Then he looked back, and to his surprise, the batteries were pristine. There were no signs of corrosion. This was just too strange. He glanced up near the top of the system and noticed – the power switch was not even in the ON position! The screen continued to cycle the two messages through. Help me? Please? It so frustrated him that after a few repetitions he screamed, “HOW"HOW CAN I HELP YOU?!" Frustrated, he decided to play along with what he thought had to be a cruel joke. He put a game into the slot and switched the system on. The game did not load. Instead there was a screen full of chaos. There was no sound, but there were garbles of trash graphics and letters, and at random intervals in the pandemonium two words could be seen:
 
“RELEASE"RELEASE ME!" He couldn't look away and sat staring at the screen for a good thirty minutes. And gradually he became aware of an idea worming its way into his head. The Gameboy was set down and he looked around for a screwdriver. When he found it he returned to the system and started dismantling it. Whatever it was that was in there that wanted out, he would release. He found himself giggling uncontrollably for no good reason. The casing was quickly popped open and he soon began to rip out the circuit boards and wiring.
 
That was the last thing he remembered before waking up the next morning. The first thing he heard was the pounding of his front door. His mind felt so hazy he couldn't even comprehend the noise. His confusion only grew when the door slammed open and a few seconds later he was surrounded by police. They were talking about arrest and murder. But why?
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The neighbor was laying on the floor, dead – or a better word would be, mutilated.
 
Someone, he heard the cops inside saying, had attempted to “dismantle”"dismantle" her...
 
With a screwdriver.