Game Changer, Prologue: Title Screen (Patreon)

Next Part 

An Anonymous Commission

Note: this will go up on Deviantart in coming days, but as it is in several parts, Patreon subscribers get early access!

James, Mike, and Claire are good friends about to try an supposedly 'mysterious' videogame from the 90s, one that disappears all who play it. To their surprise, the rumours are true, and they find themselves catapulted into the world of Game Changer, a setting ruled by exploitative stereotypes and gratuitious jiggle physics.

Title Screen

“It’s called Game Changer. I’ve been looking for it forever.”

I held up the cartridge triumphantly. On its face, the words Game Changer were written in stylistic text made of red-blue lightning bolts. A number of character faces were displayed, all a series of stereotypes; a dark tribal woman, a perky Japanese girl, a scowling kung-fu master, and a blonde-haired army man, complete with a pair of Aviator glasses over his eyes.

“Looks old, James,” Mike said, “what’s so special about it?”

I scoffed. “Well, Mike, it’s only the most mysterious game ever! Most gaming communities don’t even believe it exists. Supposedly it also has like nine sequels but they’re just as elusive. But look, it’s real!”

Claire took the cartridge and inspected it. “So is it fun, or what? And when was this made, the caveman era? Look at how stereotypical all these characters are!”

I won’t lie, the lack of enthusiasm wounded me. We were all in my apartment, which was plastered with anime posters, comic books, 80s movie memorabilia, and, of course, videogame merchandise. With me were Mike and Claire, who had been my friends ever since we were young teenagers in high school. We were in our mid-twenties now, and even though our lives were busy with jobs, studies, and other responsibilities, we always made time to catch up. We had all met at a time when our interests in pop culture, games, and sense of humour all aligned, and though we had changed since, we still had a lot of overlap, enough that we caught up often.

Mike was our leader; he had gone from early-teenage lankiness to a well-muscled man in the time I’d known him, with short brown hair that was somehow always perfectly styled. I had always been a bit jealous of James; he was tall, and fit, and attractive to the opposite sex. He wasn’t a ladies man or anything, and no Brad Pitt either, but he had an easy confidence that allowed him to glide through life, and was unafraid to show his interests and passions, which made him approachable and likable. He liked swimming and going to the gym, only the former of which I enjoyed and never as an endurance sport, but he still loves to shoot the shit over videogames and talk about movies, which he had excellent taste in. He was proud of his workout regimen, though, and it showed. When someone tried to mess with us, they usually fell back when he stood over them, ready for if they started anything.

Claire, on the other hand, was our resident snarker and high intellect: she always had something to say about the portrayal of women in media or unfair rules at school. Back then, she ended up stuck with us as her social group because she hated the constant infighting the girls’ groups all took part in. I must admit, while we found her a bit whiny in our teenage years, looking back it became clear she always had a lot of passion underneath her sarcastic exterior, but was afraid to show it because she hated being the center of attention. She was brilliant, and hated show-offs. While others danced and partied, she had her sights set on being an aerospace engineer. She was convinced she would not live some ‘cliche girl fantasy’ that ended with her marrying a dude and ‘popping out babies’ as she put it, It was hard to tell how much of that was her genuinely held belief or just another example of how she was a bit of a contrarian. She had short blonde hair and a thin figure, and liked to wear t-shirts and cut jeans. She was pale-skinned due to her Irish heritage, and quite plain in her looks. It hadn’t stopped me having a crush on her a few years ago; it broke my heart to learn she and Mike had briefly dated without telling me, but that had fallen apart anyway: Mike said she couldn’t stand how he was always “trying to be the alpha male.”

And there is me. I’m James, the King Nerd of the group. All my life I’ve been shy, introverted, and found it difficult to make friends, so ever since becoming close to Mike and Claire, I’ve worked to keep our friendship triangle together. Ever since I was a young teen, I loved watching anime and science fiction, as well as comic books and all other manner of nerdery. I certainly helped Mike through advanced mathematics, and Claire through computer design. While Mike may be our leader, and Claire the one that keeps us grounded, I like to think I’m the glue that holds us together. I might be ginger-haired, stuck with a set of thick glasses, and getting overweight - basically, the typical image of a basement-dwelling geek - but I value my friendships, and I liked to organise bad movie nights for Mike and I to subject poor Claire to, or play co-op video games as we drank beer together and cracked dumb jokes.

“Well, are we going to play or what?” I asked.

“Count me in,” Mike said, “it looks like stupid fun.”

“The absolute stupidest,” I boasted with a grin.

Claire rolled her eyes. “Fine. Let’s do this. It’s been ages since I played a good beat ‘em up. Besides, I aced my exams, so I can stand a little guilty pleasure.”

I inserted the cartridge, and the title screen started up in electric blue font.

DO YOU WANT TO PLAY?

I grabbed the old wire controller and hit enter, and passed two other controllers to my friends.

“So,” Mike asked, cricking his neck in readiness, “you said this game was cursed or mysterious or something. What’s the deal? Is it like The Ring? Do we die if we play?”

He grinned at Claire, who stuck out her tongue at him. “Can it kill Mike first?”

“Please, these muscles could withstand any punishment.”

“Ugh.”

“It’s even spookier than The Ring,” I said, speaking over-dramatically, “and even Mike’s muscles might not help him! Or even your smarts, Claire.”

“Pfft.”

I leaned in, enjoying the tension. Among these two I could be confident and myself. I wouldn’t dream of putting on this charade in public. “Game Changer has the power . . . to bring you into the game as a player character! Only if you win the game can you return to your own reality, and if you fail, then you are trapped in a video game world forever! MUHAHAHAHA!”

The thunderous boom from the videogame jolted my friends. It was great timing.

“Okay, now I have to play,” Claire said, taking up her controller. Mike had the same reaction, taking up his. I clicked onto the character selection screen, and Claire furrowed her brow as a procession of stereotypical characters scrolled across the screen while lightning forked dramatically. Electronic flash music playing dramatically in accompaniment. Conveniently, all the female characters were in sexy poses.

“Like I said before, caveman era.”

“It’s worse than you think,” I said with a smile. “Game Changer is rumoured to be the ultimate in so-bad-it’s-good portrayals of female characters. Like, it’s so backward you have to laugh.”

“Ha. Ha. Ha,” Claire replied, rolling her eyes dramatically. “Fine, I can get into that.”

“Dibs on the hottest character then,” Mike said.

“Please,” Claire replied, “if I really have to lean into this, then I am picking the most badass-looking woman on the team.”

“I said hottest, not most badass. Totally different characters.”

“You’re such an ass Mike.”

We chuckled. I clicked on the Character Selection screen, and more lightning forked to reveal ten playable characters. Mike instantly giggled at the feast before him, at the same time as Claire groaned.

“Well,” she said, “if we’re going to get sucked into the game, it’s only fair Because I get to choose Mike’s character for him, so that when he gets sucked in with us he’ll be as far from the total gym bro he’s become as possible.”

“And I want to choose Claire’s character,” Mike said, “so she has to be as far from the high-minded snarker she’s always being.”

“You’re on!”

“You two are impossible,” I said.

It was playful banter, and we were all chuckling, because both had an utter selection of punishing characters in front of them, their body types ranged from the exaggerated to the utter grotesque, with little consideration for real world physics, or future back problems.

“What are these names?” Claire said. “Igor Steele? Lady Dragon? I can see why no one can get a hold of this game James, it’s a who’s-who of cultural baggage!”

“Oh! That gives me an idea!” Mike said, as he scrolled through the characters. “I know exactly who Claire has to be.” He selected a character, and Claire groaned as she was highlighted on the screen:

“Shankari Deva Selected”

On screen was a brown-skinned Indian woman with a long, finely-etched nose and alluring green eyes. She wore what appeared to be a very skin-revealing sari outfit; green in colour, revealing impressive hips and leaving her midriff bare. She wore a see-through green veil over her lower face, and her hair was long and festooned with jewellery. She was slender, and she literally belly danced on screen as she was selected, swinging her hips from side to side and her arms snaked above her.

“Haven’t I always said you should’ve danced at our old social instead of grumbling in the corner?” Mike said.

“Oh, I am so getting you for that,” Claire said. “You want me of all people to suddenly be showy and flashy? Well, let’s find you a character who is your antithesis.”

It didn’t take long.

“Fumi Sato Selected”

Claire grinned at her choice. The character that now appeared on her selected title was a lithe, short, Japanese woman who had obviously been designed to be as improbably cutesy and appealing to men as possible. She had a dark ponytail and wide eyes behind her glasses and button nose. She had an innocent expression, helped by her animation which involved her blushing red as she noticed she had been selected, and waving in an awkward manner that was committee-designed to make lonely nerds swoon. And, of course, she wore a university student’s button top that was positively straining to contain a set of knockers that were improbably huge, and wobbling with her every movement.

“Jokes on you,” Mike said, “now I get to play a character with a nice set of titties.”

“Ugh, men,” Claire siad. They swapped controllers, accepting their character.

“Now, who will you play James?”

“I was thinking of Igor Steele,” I said, indicating the tough Soviet warrior. But before I could even select him, both Mike and Claire worked together to snatch the controller out of my hands.

“Nuh uh, if me and Claire have it bad, you get it bad too, buddy! Claire, which character looks as far from James as possible.”

I cringed as they went over the choices, a conspiracy of whispers and giggles as they went through the character screen. The tension simmered, until they chose a character.

“No!” I cried, “Not her! Not Aaliyah!”

“Aaliyah Selected”

I sighed dramatically. Aaliyah appeared, giving two massive kicks and punching the air triumphantly. Claire and Mike couldn’t have chosen better against my type. I was a pasty white guy with lanky-arm syndrome and confidence issues. Aaliyah was a powerful, muscly, tall, and busty black woman wearing yoga pants and a too-small purple sports bra. Her in-game lore emphasised that she was prideful of her body and had a take-charge attitude, and was more than happy to show off her impressive butt - because as far as she was concerned, she was ahead of everyone, so it was the natural place to stare.

I took the controller back, eyeing my friends, who giggled.

“Okay then, you pair of comedians. Let’s start. You ready?”

They both nodded ascent, taking up their controls. I clicked enter, and the screen changed, glowing brighter and brighter; so bright, in fact, that I had to shield my eyes. It almost seemed to take up my entire field of vision, and was still getting brighter. The electric guitar soundtrack grew louder, drowning out everything but my friends’ exclamations of confusion. I shielded myself, falling backwards a little in my seat as my entire field of view was obscured.

“Uh, guys, something is wr -”

“GET READY FOR A NEW GAME CHANGER”

The light shot through me, and my entire body coarsed with electricity and fire. The screen radiated power, streams of light coursing past me as I began to be pulled impossibly towards it. The living room stretched and distorted all around me, like I was entering hyperspace, as I was catapulted towards the screen which had grown larger than a cinema screen, larger than a mountain in my view! I was hurled towards it, screaming through the electric write noise, and out of the corner of my eyes I could see my friends somersaulting through neon space beside me; I could just make out Claire's short blonde hair and Mike's muscled form. We were all in terror as the city-sized screen loomed closer and closer, impact with it mere moments away.

And then we passed through it.

Everything pixelated. Colour and form and my own body broke down into the building blocks of the videogame world before streamlining once more. It felt as if my atoms were being ripped to shreds and reassembled. My limbs twisted, muscles rent, my stomach churned and my jaw remoulded. I tried to cry out, but my voice was funny, both softer and yet deeper than usual, like my very oesophagus had altered. I clenched my stomach as I rotated through the kaleidoscope madness of this strange reality, feeling my organs shift and make way for something, and I was horrified to see my skin darkening as muscles I'd never possessed pushed to the surface. My clothes altered, becoming pixelated briefly before then reforming and tightening. My chest ached, twin pressure points blooming in my chest as my nipples singed with pain, tightening and pressing against the now-pink fabric of my shrinking shirt.

I saw my two friends hurtling through the voice once more, passing through dark red clouds that forked blue lightning, just like the Game Changer title screen. Claire was screaming endlessly, and she was changing as surely as I was. For a brief second, I caught a flash of long black hair snaking out over her blonde short cut, and brown blotches extending across her pale form. Her midriff was bare for some reason, her clothes turning green. Mike looked even stranger; he had shrunk, his facial hair dissipated, and his limbs had become slender. His jeans were rapidly shortening and becoming pleated, and his chest . . . his chest looked like it was increasingly being dominated by two round globes. He looked at me and screamed. I joined him.

Flesh continued to writhe, colour darkened, and my bones extended in audible crunches as my form changed, my hair extended, my face bubbled and shifted, my ass and hips expanded. It was too much, and the streaks of light shot faster and faster, leaving spots in my vision. Their brightness increased with every passing moment, and soon I could no longer see, only feel the unceasing changes to my own form as things got brighter and louder and louder and brighter. I threw two black pairs of hands in front of my vision.

And soon everything else went black too.

To Be Continued . . .

Next Part