That Weird Game We All Played

i started writing this when i had an idea about a "haunted" video game. it stalled out but then it struck me as something that def gives a #summerween vibe, so maybe i'll return to it. this time of year always gets me in the mood to write weird spoopy shit


The New Kid was sitting alone again, this time on the crumbling concrete steps at the very outskirts of the playground. Technically you weren’t really supposed to play that far from the teachers’ gazebo—if you brought attention to it one of them would likely blow their whistle or, worse, leave their post and glide ominously towards you and that would be the end of that—but he had gotten away with it so far because all he was doing was sitting there quietly, scribbling in the notebook he had open across his lap. Every so often he would stop and stare at the page, idly chewing his pen, before resuming his entry vigorously. On the steps beside him were his black backpack and green metal lunchbox. 

Except, thought Alex, that’s not your green metal lunchbox, that’s my green metal lunchbox, with my cherry go-gurt and my pb&j and my fancy baby cheeses that Mom said were too expensive but we could have every once in a while.

Alex quickened his pace, keenly aware of his precious few remaining recess minutes being spent neither enjoying his lunch nor playing four-square with his friends. The distance from the cafeteria all the way to the far edge of the playground was long enough that running would be impractical; besides, as hungry as Alex was, he didn’t want to risk drawing a teacher’s attention. Especially after this morning. He allowed himself a surreptitious glance over his shoulder to see if any of them had decided to swoop after him. Two of the teachers on duty were in the gazebo, speaking to one another, while the third was busy lecturing someone at the side of the four square courts. Alex squinted in the bright fall sunlight, trying to discern the identity of the victim. Christina, possibly? I’ll bet she’s doing Black Magic again, he mused. Christina was a notorious four square cheat and was constantly using illegal moves. It was always deeply gratifying to see someone like that get chewed out by a teacher. And here Alex was, missing out on not only on playing his favorite recess game but also on savoring the delicious schadenfreude of Christina’s comeuppance. He groaned aloud in frustration and began speed walking towards the edge of the playground. 

 At Liber Elementary, lunch and recess were combined into one break period. You had the option of eating your lunch inside the cafeteria or at the food court, which was divided into indoor and outdoor sections.  Once you finished your meal, you were permitted to spend your remaining time on the playground, after a teacher made sure your table was clean. Alex, like the rest of his friends, usually chose to optimize recess by devouring his lunch and passing inspection as quickly as possible. Then it was a mad dash to the four square courts; if you were fast, you could start on one of the courts right away instead of waiting in line, and if you were fast and lucky, you could grab a ball from the equipment bin and be server. Today, Alex was neither.

 A sucky morning had only proven to be the beginning of a day which sucked even harder. Alex started his Tuesday by oversleeping, which meant that he had to skip breakfast and instead go straight from brushing his teeth and getting dressed into running frantically to catch the school bus. During all the chaos he forgot his math folder at home, which earned him Strike One. Strike Two came not long after when his teacher did a random screen check during tablet time and discovered Alex on a video game forum instead of the assigned webpage. It was this transgression and his ensuing back talk—“I can’t believe I’m getting in trouble just because I read fast”—that had earned him the second strike and its accompanying excruciating punishment: fifteen minutes deducted from recess. In fifteen minutes, Alex could have finished lunch and likely worked his way at least up to third square, maybe even server. But now even if he got his lunchbox back with minimal fuss, ate everything in it at the speed of light, passed inspection instantly, and flew back to the four square courts as fast as his feet could take him, he would likely spend what was left of recess in line.

 Alex felt his foul mood and gnawing hunger direct itself at the New Kid. If he didn’t take my lunchbox I could be eating right now and maybe still make it in time for a game, he thought sullenly. He didn’t bother to try to suss out why or how the New Kid had his lunchbox. In fact Alex hoped that he could simply take it back without more than a couple seconds spent interacting with him. What if he already ate my lunch? The thought spurred Alex into a full-blown run and he quickly closed the distance between himself and the old steps.

 “Hey,” Alex said breathlessly, coming to a stop just shy of where the New Kid sat, “hey, I think you’ve got my lunch.” 

 The New Kid stuck his pen in his mouth and looked up at Alex. He didn’t say anything. Above the two boys, the branches of the huge nearby oak trees shifted and swayed in the wind, making dapple-dot patterns of light and shadow on their faces. 

 Alex shifted his stance awkwardly. Maybe the New Kid didn’t speak English? Or had special needs or something? Alex felt weird standing over him but wasn’t comfortable joining him on the steps. “That’s my lunchbox,” he said, pointing at the green metal lunchbox on the concrete.

 The New Kid blinked slowly, the look on his face suggesting his mind had been someplace far away from lunch boxes and questions of their ownership, and started chewing the pen in his mouth nervously. “Sorry, what?” he asked in a hesitant voice. 

 Alex sighed, pulling his face dramatically with both hands. “You have my lunchbox,” he repeated, saying each word slowly and emphatically. He pointed at the lunchbox again and raised his eyebrows. “The green one. It’s mine. Can I please have it back?” The politeness in his words was only slightly offset by the impatience in his tone, but surely that was understandable. 

 The New Kid glanced down at the lunchbox and frowned. “Oh yeah, you’re right,” he said. He picked it up to examine it closer. “Yeah, I guess I grabbed yours by accident. I’m sorry.”

 Alex was heartened by the ready admittance of wrongdoing. “It’s okay,” he said quickly, “no worries.” 

 The New Kid handed the lunchbox up to him. As Alex took it he added jokingly, “Just hope you didn’t eat my lunch by accident too.”

 New Kid blinked. “No, I haven’t even opened it,” he said seriously.

 Alex chuckled. “I know, dude. I’m messing with you.”

 “Oh,” said the New Kid, “yeah, I knew that.” He gave kind of a goofy grin.

 Alex grinned back. “I’m Alex, by the way,” he said. “What’s your name?”

 “I’m Junior,” the New Kid replied. “Everybody calls me June. Or at least everyone at my old school did.”

 Alex’s stomach rumbled just then, quite loudly, and the two boys laughed. “I’m starving,” Alex groaned theatrically. “Do you care if I just eat here?” he asked June.

 June looked excited at the prospect of not spending another recess alone. “Sure,” he said. “I think I must have left my lunchbox at home or in the car or something. It looks a lot like yours, though.”

 Alex sat down near June on the concrete steps and opened the lunchbox. He knew that playing four square was off the table now, but June didn’t seem so bad. Plus, he was so hungry that his stomach ached a little. He retrieved the peanut butter and jelly sandwich from its container and began chowing down.

 About three bites in, it occurred to Alex that June might be hungry too. He stopped devouring the sandwich and glanced over at him sheepishly, but June was already scribbling in his notebook again. “What are you doing over here, anyway?” Alex asked him.

 June glanced up from the notebook. “Um, just working on something for this game I got,” he answered after a pause. He seemed reluctant to elaborate.

 Alex started to ask a question, sprayed a crumb or two from his stuffed mouth, then thought better of it and swallowed the bite of sandwich he was working on before trying again. “That sounds cool,” he said, wiping a smear of jelly from his chin. “What kind of game?”

 June’s pen, which was back in his mouth, waggled jauntily. “Do you know anything about retro games? Like old stuff?”

 Still wolfing down the pb&j, Alex nodded. “My big brother still has an old GameCube and stuff,” he said around a mouthful. He swallowed. “And I play his old Gameboy Advance sometimes.”

 “Yeah, yeah, exactly,” June nodded, pen bouncing. “Yeah, so I collect, like, retro gaming stuff, and I got this huge haul from a flea market I went to this summer. And in it were all these old, like, Gameboy Color cartridges, like some old Pokemon and Zelda, really good games, but a couple of cartridges had their labels ripped off so you couldn’t tell what they were.

 “So yeah, basically I was testing these games to see what they were and most of them were, like, corrupted or whatever. But this one game actually played and it was sick, dude. I guess it’s like a hacked Pokemon game, like the little sprites and cities and stuff are the same as like, Gen I or Gen II Pokemon games, but everything else was different, like there’s this class system and all these different endings and stuff. It’s like the only thing I play anymore because I’m trying to play it to completion but it still has more endings. So I started keeping notes in my notebook,” he finished. Tilting the notebook towards him, Alex could see the page was covered densely in notes and diagrams.

 “Woah,” Alex said appreciatively. “Well, what is it? Like what’s it called?” he asked.

 “Soul Captors: The Obscure Doctrine,” June chirped. “Badass, right?”

 Alex nodded soberly. It was badass. “But it’s a hack, right?”

 “Yeah,” June said. “I only know of one other copy. There are a couple of forum posts that mention it, though.”

 INTERLUDE

 “Okay so I heard about this game. It’s like, mostly it’s like an old, like, Gameboy Color game, like the old cartridge kind—“

 “Yes, but sometimes it can be other kinds too—“

 “Yeah, so anyway, it’s like this old game with the label torn off, and it, like, is different for everybody that plays it, like my big brother says it’s a Pokémon game—“

 “No, it’s Mario—

 “It’s like a foreign game, it was never released outside of Japan—“

 “It’s old, it’s text-based—“

 “My sister says it’s just a hacked Zelda game—“

 “Your sister never played it!”

 “Yes she FUCKING did Marshall! She fucking played it and it gave her bad dreams!”

 “Obviously she didn’t FUCKING PLAY it Randy because she’s STILL ALIVE.”

 “It doesn’t kill you! It just shows you how you die.”

 “My sister won’t say what it showed her. But it made her cry a lot.”

 “My brother didn’t finish it. He threw it away.”

 “But doesn’t that mean he’s cursed?”

 “Cursed? What? Why?”

 “You have to finish it—“

 “My sister says she had to finish it. Or ELSE.”

 “Or else WHAT, Randy?”

 “SHE JUST SAID OR ELSE.”

 “It’s a game the devil made. My grandma says all games come from the devil. That’s why I can’t have one.”

 “It’s the devil’s favorite game. He loves it.”

 “So the devil loves playing a game that, like, shows him how he dies?

 “Well the devil CAN’T die.”

 “He just likes watching kids play the game. He’s fucked up.”

 “It’s the devil’s favorite game.”

 “It’s his favorite.”

 “He loves it.”