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Game Over star star star star emptystar


You realize too late that how much of the enchanted water you drink is entirely irrelevant. A strange feeling washes over you as the water takes effect, and you find yourself slipping away. The centaur you have become is still very much alive and well, but whatever vestiges of true humanity you had are dead. You are still you, to be sure, but you no longer have any control over the centaur. It's as if you're watching a movie of yourself. Or rather, a cut-scene in a video game. And then you remember, this entire experience has been very much like a game, except that you were living it.

 

There was never a set goal for the game, but now you understand it: survive. Not simply survive bodily, because the game would resurrect you if your "character" died. But the goal was to keep your self alive. That is, your soul, if such a thing can even exist. The game was putting you through a barrage of transformations to see if you would give in and surrender your humanity to them. And you did. The Game was testing you, and you failed. Why were you being tested? What bizarre purpose was there in bringing people to a maze full of magical costumes. Well, now you'll never know, because you've lost The Game.

 

You notice, disinterestedly, that the centaur formerly known as you is gathering berries. The juices are staining her shirt, which used to be yours, back when you existed. You rather liked that shirt, you recall, and would never do anything so stupid as gather berries in it. This only serves as yet another jarring reminder that you no longer have any control over your actions, and you step back horrified.

 

Wait a minute...you just stepped back. You DO exist. You realize that you've been standing in a darkened room, watching the actions of your former self on a large flat-screen TV. Talk about immersive technology. In you hand is a black video game controller, from no system you've ever played. The cord connects to nothing--it looks burnt at the end. You then turn your attentions on yourself. You half expect to be a centaur, but you find yourself to be human again. Your clothes are gone, replaced by a thin black robe.

 

"Hello again," says a frighteningly familiar voice. You spin around to see a frighteningly familiar centaur standing behind you.

 

"RYAN!" you nearly shriek. Love him or hate him, it's quite nice to see a familiar face in this thoroughly confusing environment. "Where am I?" you ask. "And this controller--was I really in a game all along?"

 

"No, no, no," Ryan replies condescendingly. "It's a visual metaphor--because you had lost control of yourself, you were essentially playing a video game without a controller. I used it to rescue you. Technically, you're still in The Game, this is just sort of a...menu, if you will. Because now you have a choice." At this, Ryan shape shifts effortlessly into an impossibly beautiful woman, wearing a black robe rather like yours. "I am, in fact, a Polymorph, and not only that, I have some degree of control over the game. How I came to have this privilege is irrelevant for the time being. The point is, I took you out of that prison of a centaur mind, because you fascinate me. To begin with, you decided to play The Game--"

 

"Wait, wait, wait...I never decided to do this. I was just--"

 

"Everyone decides, to some extent, to play. You were no exception. You also did not succumb to my temptation, yet were still curious enough to try the water, while cautious enough only to drink a single drop...although that caution got you nowhere, it was a noble idea nevertheless. While you may not be the best player I've ever met, you're one of the most interesting. So now, because I'm so nice, I'm giving you a choice. I need an assistant, to help me with the management of the costume maze and all the associated universes. It's a big job, as you can imagine. I'm asking you to fulfill the role. You will be granted eternal youth, and a small share in the powers I possess. In exchange, I ask an eternity of service. I think you'll enjoy the job quite a lot, though. That's why I picked you. Your alternative is to turn around, and watch your centaur self, and spend the rest of eternity playing a video game with a broken controller. It won't be entirely boring, I should add. She's become an NPC, programmed to lure more hapless players like yourself to the basin. Still, if I were you I'd take the servitude. You'll like it. Trust me."

 

Ryan, whoever he/she is, has given you an interesting choice. Certainly, you'd want to escape watching your centaur self wander around without your control, but is the cost really worth it? What's your answer?



Written by Zodiac on 18 November 2007


The end (for now)

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