5 GAMING SCARY STORIES - VoiceTube: Learn English through videos!

Subtitles section Play video

CHILLS
5.
Have you heard the story of the secret NES game Ladder to Oblivion by Max Shephard?
The internet says there are 91 unlicensed NES games, but I know that's not true.
There's one more, and I've seen it.
It's real.
At the end of this story, I'll show you a picture of it.
By then, you'll understand why I will NEVER play it.
But first, the backstory.
As you probably know, when the Nintendo released its Nintendo Entertainment System (NES) in
North America in 1986 it created a worldwide phenomenon.
It had already sold over 2.5 million units in Japan and the success of the system in
America single-handedly revitalized the struggling video game industry.
By 1990, 30% of American households owned the NES, beating the percentage that owned
personal computers by 7%.
Mine was one of those households.
I remember my Dad bringing the NES home for the first time, beaming with pride.
I was in complete awe.
I remember sitting in our sunken living room and playing Super Mario Bros. for hours upon
hours, never sitting too close to the television for fear that my eyes would be damaged.
That's what my mom said, at least.
What I didn't know then that making games for the NES was big business.
Part of the reason the NES was so successful is because Nintendo actively courted third
party developers for its fledgling system.
And because it possessed a near monopoly on the video game market, it was able to enforce
its standards and policies with an iron fist.
So much so that the United States Department of Justice actually started looking into Nintendo's
business practices.
When the FTC got involved, Nintendo changed some of the strict terms of its agreements.
By Nintendo's count, there are 671 licensed games for the NES.
That list grows to 677 if you include the three Tengen games that were only temporarily
licensed, plus the several others like Miracle Piano which were left off of Nintendo's
list.
To enforce its licensing standards, Nintendo created the 10NES authentication chip.
When the chip in the system detected the chip in the game pak, the game would be playable.
Otherwise, no dice.
As you can imagine, many companies either didn't want to pay the licensing fee or
were rejected as officially licensed partners by Nintendo based on the quality of their
games.
Hence the 91 unlicensed games.
You can see the list of them here.
To skirt the protection of the 10NES chip, some companies configured their hardware to
create a several millisecond voltage spike that “short-circuited” the authentication
chip for just a moment and allowed the game to be played.
Interesting stuff, right?
I thought so.
And so did my Dad.
He worked for Nintendo in their development and icensing department during the late eighties
and early nineties and got to experience all of this as it happened.
But the story of Ladder to Oblivion does not begin with my Dad; it begins with Rob, the
founder and original President of LTO, LLC, and his idea for a new video game.
Rob was in his senior year at West Lafayettle High School in Indiana when Mario Bros was
released for the NES.
Like thousands of other kids around the country, he became obsessed pretty quickly.
When Rob graduated, he decided to attend Purdue University to study Computer Science.
He wanted to make video games.
Purdue's Computer Sciences department moved into a newly renovated building in the fall
of 1985 and Rob took full advantage of it when he started college the next year.
Four years later he graduated at the top of his class.
With honors.
My Dad told me rob was one of the smartest people he'd ever met.
Even so, Rob dealt with some personal demons.
His mother raised him alone after his father was murdered in a home invasion when he was
young.
His mother was home when it happened, but her life was spared.
The resulting trauma sent her careening through years of alcoholism and depression.
Rob was neglected, as you can imagine, and eventually went into the custody of Child
Protective Services.
He acted out at first, but eventually rose above the shitty hand he'd been dealt.
When Mario Bros came out his senior year, he found it to be the escape he'd been seeking.
My Dad has told me the story about the day he first met Rob a dozen times.
It was May 25, 1992.
He remembered the date because the Friday prior was Johnny Carson's final Tonight
Show and Jay Leno was announced as the new host that Monday.
“Johnny wanted Letterman to replace him,” he said every time.
“Not that Leno fella.”
That Monday, he was sitting at his desk when the phone rang.
The voice on the other side hesitated for a moment.
“How'd you like to be rich?”, the man said.
My Dad had heard a version of that question a hundred times and typically hung the phone
up immediately when he heard it.
This time was different.
Something in the man's voice intrigued him.
“I'd love to,” he joked.
“Do you have a secret to winning the lottery?”
The man didn't laugh.
“I've got something much better,” he said.
“And what's that?”
my Dad shot back.
“A new type of game.
One the world has never seen before.”
“I'm listening, “ my Dad continued.
Rob introduced himself as the President of LTO, LLC, a game company.
At the time, my Dad had no idea Rob was the only member.
Rob went on to describe the game he was working on.
It was a platform game where the main character moved across the screen from left to right,
collected items and power-ups, and fought enemies.
At the end of each level there would be a boss, with an ultimate boss at the end of
the game.
My Dad explained that Nintendo already had a game like that.
It was called Mario Bros.
My Dad said Rob told him the “differences were in the details.”
The game would start with a young man who finds a strange wooden ladder protruding out
of the ground.
When he climbs down the ladder, he realizes he can't go back up again.
The only way is forward.
At the end of each level, the young man must fight a demon who appears in the form of someone
from his past.
It could be a teacher, a parent, or a friend, but the player would find out it was always
someone who had harmed the main character in the past.
After defeating the demon, the player climbs down to the next level.
There would be nine levels total.
In each, the screen would become darker and the enemies more powerful.
By the ninth level, Rob explained, the player would barely be able to see his way through
the darkness.
At the very end, the ultimate boss appears.
The player finally learns who he's been fighting to reach the entire time: a mirror
image of himself.
Defeating the boss reveals a new ladder that leads back up to the surface.
“What happens when the player fails?”
my Dad asked.
“You don't want to know,” Rob said cryptically.
“Can you tell me what it's called?”
“Ladder to Oblivion,” Rob almost whispered.
Eventually, Rob convinced my Dad to meet with him in order to show him the game.
It wasn't quite finished yet, but the first seven levels were playable.
“I was mesmerized,” my Dad told me.
“The game made me feel like no game ever had before.
The bosses at the end of the levels – I started seeing them as the people in my life
who had wronged me.
A teacher in fourth grade who humiliated me in front of the class.
An old high school friend that had stolen my girlfriend.
It almost felt like that game….changed, depending on who was playing it.”
When my Dad brought the game to Nintendo, they refused to approve LTO, LLC as an officially
licensed developer.
Nintendo had very strict rules about the type of content that their partners could include
in their games.
No nudity, no gore, no cursing, and no religious symbols, among others.
Ladder to Oblivion's theme and content didn't fall under the recognized restrictions, but
it was rejected anyway.
“It's too dark,” was the only explanation given.
Rob was crushed, my Dad said.
Understandably so.
He'd worked on Ladder to Oblivion for the better part of three years.
My Dad told me the day of the final rejection was the last time he'd ever spoken to Rob.
He never saw him again.
I begged him several times to try and get in touch with Rob.
Maybe he still had a copy of the game and we could play it together.
“Maybe,” he'd say, averting his eyes, “I'll see if I can dig up his number.”
I believed my Dad all these years.
For all I knew, the story of Ladder to Oblivion, the NES game that never was, ended the day
my dad said it did.
Yesterday I found out I was wrong.
It's hard to even type this, but yesterday my Dad committed suicide.
It was a shock to my entire family.
He seemed happy and never acted like he was depressed.
My mother found him in the woods behind our house, the shotgun he'd used several inches
from his outstretched hand.
I was devastated.
Still am.
Last night, I went to the one place where I felt closest to my Dad: his study.
We'd spent hours in there together playing old NES games and reliving his days at Nintendo.
On a whim, I ended up grabbing Marios Bros. ouf of its case.
I was going to play a final game in honor of my Dad.
When I flipped the door open, I found there was already a game inside.
My Dad NEVER left games inside the console.
He said it made them wear out quicker.
It was Ladder to Oblivion.
The art was just how I'd pictured it all those years.
An 8-bit image of a ladder descending into a raging fire.
A note was taped to the back.
The note contained the real story of Ladder to Oblivion – the NES game that did come
to be.
I considered transcribing the entire thing, but realized that would be disrespectful towards
my Dad.
The note was addressed directly to me; he'd meant the words within for my eyes only.
Plus, the words are dark.
They aren't a proper representation of my Dad at all.
I hope you don't mind that I paraphrase.
The day of the rejection, my Dad went and saw Rob.
He was already obsessed with Ladder to Oblivion.
After a lengthy discussion, Rob asked my Dad to join LTO, LLC as a partner.
It was Rob's plan all along and was the reason he'd asked my Dad at the beginning
if he wanted to be rich.
Together they'd complete Ladder to Oblivion and release it as an unlicensed game.
My Dad knew all about Nintendo's authentication chip and how to work around it.
They both understood that many of the companies that produced unlicensed games, like Tengen,
Atari's software branch, and Color Dreams/Bunch Games/Wisdom Tree (they changed their name
every so often so people would forget about how crappy their previous games were) actually
did very well in the market.
They knew the risk – that Nintendo could come up with a solution that would lock Ladder
to Oblivion out of the NES forever – but were willing to take it.
Of course, my Dad would be a silent partner.
He still needed his job at Nintendo.
It's what paid the bills, after all.
In seven months, Rob finished Ladder to Oblivion.
The two were ecstatic, but their joy would be short-lived.
The night Rob completed the game, he called my Dad and told him it was finally finished.
My Dad was excited beyond measure.
The next day, my Dad had the game loaded onto two pre-production cartridges.
He had a friend in the art department whip up a label, complete with Nintendo's Seal
of Quality.
That way, they'd think he was working on something for the company.
Once they were ready for a large production run, he'd have them made off-site.
He didn't want to take any chances.
Rob told him not to play the game yet - he still needed to do a complete play through
from start to finish.
To catch any remaining bugs.
My Dad reluctantly agreed.
Rob agreed to call him when he'd finished so he could meet my Dad and do a play-through
with him.
Five days later, my Dad showed up at Rob's house unannounced.
He hadn't talked to Rob since the phone call and in his paranoia was worried that
Rob had decided to release the game on his own and cut my Dad out of the profits.
What he found was much worse.
Rob was dead.
I assume by suicide, but the note is unclear.
There's a lot of rambling at this part about God and the Devil and a lot of sentences have
been scribbled over so heavily, the words are mostly illegible.
It looks like Rob left a note.
The only words were “Never climb the ladder.”
More scribbled out words.
At the end of that page, my Dad writes, “He finally faced himself.”
My Dad moved on undeterred.
He was terribly upset at Rob's death, but the game had taken control of his life.
Ever since he'd played it that first time, he said, he'd been battling a secret depression.
The only thing he believed would make him happy again was to release Ladder to the public.
The very next day, my Dad brought on a new partner: a friend from Purdue named Eddie
who was always looking for business opportunities.
That night, they got together to play the game.
My Dad started, but ended up leaving after the 7th level to grab some pizza.
When he returned, he found Eddie dead, “Game Over” flashing on the screen.
Eddie had taken a kitchen knife and slashed both of his wrists.
The note gets harder and harder to read, but I think he carved something into his arm.
“UXXy inXXXe.”
I'm not sure what that means.
He says at that point, he was convinced the game was responsible for both Rob and Eddie's
deaths, as well as his worsening depression.
He tucked the game away, vowing to never play it again.
He couldn't bear to get rid it though.
I was 5 at the time.
I obviously don't remember any of this happening, but I do remember us moving around that time.
My Dad quit his job at Nintendo and we moved out of town.
For 24 years, my Dad kept his promise.
He never played Ladder all the way through.
Until yesterday.
I'll include the end of the note here.
You can draw your own conclusions.
I for one believe my Dad, no matter what you all might say.
And my Dad never told me what happened to Rob's copy.
For all I know, it's still out there.
Have you seen it?
Here's what my dad wrote: Twenty-four years of guilt finally caught
up to me today.
I climbed the Ladder.
Something I said I'd never do.
I faced myself and I was judged unworthy.
Just like Rob.
Just like Eddie.
There's something wrong with the Ladder.
Almost like consciousness, it's more than just the sum of its parts.
It looks deep inside you.
Too deep for light.
To the places you didn't know existed.
Son, I don't want to die.
I XXXX to live.
But my shot gun is sitting on the floor beside me and I can hear it speaking to me.
It sounds XX sweet.
It's voice is a XXXen's song.
If I can ignore it, I'll tear up this letter and you'll XXXXX XXXX the difference.
I'm sorry I lied XX XXX.
I'm sorry XXX X lot of things.
Please know that I love you.
XXXXX move on.
I'm going outside.
I can't XXXX it.
Please
4.
Change is terrifying, especially when you're young.
For an eight year old boy like me, moving across the country was the biggest change
imaginable.
When you're young, leaving the few friends that you've made behind feels like the end
of the world.
I don't remember the move to Giliman very well, I just remember crying the whole way
there.
My parents repeatedly tried to console me.
They assured me that I'd make new friends, and that the town of Giliman had much better
parks and open-spaces to play in.
I refused to listen.
“Bryan, you're going to love it in Giliman, I promise!”
My dad was driving the moving truck we rented.
“No.
I hate Giliman.
I want to go back to Springfield.”
“Oh Bryan, I'm sure you'll love it when we get there.”
My mom echoed this sentiment.
“Roger doesn't seem to mind moving, does he Bryan?”
Of course my younger brother didn't mind moving.
He was four years old and was too young and dumb to understand what was happening.
He just sat in his car seat next to me, playing with his little stuffed alligator toy.
“Ugghh.
Mom, Roger doesn't care because he's still little!
If he was my age, he'd want to go back to Springfield too!”
Roger protested the fact that I'd called him little, but quickly went back to playing
with his toy.
I continued to cry and moan for as much of the drive as I could.
The drive from Springfield to Giliman is around thirteen hours, so we didn't arrive until
it was almost midnight.
Another moving truck had already dropped off our beds and moved them inside, so we could
go to sleep when we arrived.
As angry as I was about the move, I was happy to be able to sleep in my own bed, even if
I would have preferred it to be in a different location.
I went to bed full of resentment and sadness, directed at my parents, of course.
Knowing what I know now, I wish I'd appreciated them more.
They tried so hard to make me happy.
I wish I had been nicer to them, and complained less about the move.
I wish I'd been a better son, while I still had the chance.
When I think about the fall we moved to Giliman, I think of what could have been different.
That horrible game ruined everything.
Sorry, I'm getting ahead of myself.
I grew up in the 90's.
The year we moved was 1995, and like every other eight year old, I was infatuated with
my Super Nintendo Entertainment System (which we called an SNES, as I'm sure everyone
knows).
I plugged more time into that gaming system then I'm proud to admit – it was truly
my prized possession.
When I woke up, the first thing I noticed was the game cartridge that was plugged into
the SNES across from my bed.
For those of you that remember the Super Nintendo, you might remember that almost every game
cartridge was exactly the same.
They were all plastic, slate grey cartridges, with black or white stickers on the front.
But this one wasn't.
It was bright blue, and had a bright red sticker on the front.
I didn't recognize it – I'd never seen anything quite like it before.
I was ecstatic, to say the least.
I figured that my parents must have gotten me this game to make me feel better about
the move.
My reservations about the new house faded away the second I saw the game cartridge.
Before I could turn on the SNES, my mom called from downstairs.
“Bryan!
Come get breakfast!”
Reluctantly, I pulled myself away from the console and wandered into the new kitchen.
It was far nicer than the one I had grown up with in Springfield.
My mother was standing at the stove, flipping eggs.
My father sat at the table, buttering a slice of toast.
Roger was planted firmly in his high chair, clutching his alligator toy close to his chest
and spooning oatmeal into his mouth.
“Good morning Bryan.
Did you find the present Dad and I got you?”
A smile filled my face.
“You mean the new game!?”
“I take it you found it then.”
“Yes!
Thank you thank you!
It's awesome!”
My dad ruffled my hair and motioned me to sit at the breakfast table.
“I'm glad you like it Bry, I got it from my new job.
I figured you'd enjoy it more than I would.”
My dad winked.
He had recently accepted a job as a programmer at a technology company named “Kalivaki
Electronics”.
His recent employment had been the reason for our move, so I was certainly happy I was
benefitting from it.
Although I was itching to play my new game, my parents made me stay at the table until
I'd eaten several pancakes and a plate of eggs.
When I had a chance, I snuck back up to my room to play the SNES.
Up until this point, I hadn't actually had a chance to look closely at the game cartridge.
As I said, it had bright coloring, but otherwise it looked like a standard game cartridge.
The sticker on the front was red with bright yellow letters.
It read: “WORRYLAND”
The letters were superimposed on an image of a cartoonish ray gun, like something Marvin
the Martian would have carried.
I'm sure that it sounds underwhelming for anyone from the Xbox-Generation, but I was
practically bouncing off the walls with excitement.
With almost no hesitation, I switched the console on and turned on my small tv.
The screen stayed blank for a full thirty seconds, and I was about to turn the console
off and try again, when my TV suddenly lit up with bright yellow letters.
“WORRYLAND” An upbeat 8-bit tune began pouring out of
the speakers – imagine the music from the original Megaman games.
As it beeped and booped, the game shifted into a credit sequence that read:
“KALIVAKI ELECTRONIC CO” “SOFTWARE LIKE YOU'VE NEVER SEEN BEFORE”
Like every eight year old boy, the thought of playing a new video game was overwhelmingly
exciting.
That excitement was cut short when a small set of white letters appeared in the top left
corner of the screen.
“YOU HAVE NO WORRIES.
PLEASE TRY AGAIN LATER.”
I was frustrated.
I tried restarting the game several times, but was met with the same result.
I pulled the game out of my console and shoved into under my bed.
The stupid game didn't work.
I was annoyed with my parents, but I knew that it wasn't really their fault.
They wouldn't have tested the game or anything.
Luckily, I hadn't beaten Megaman X yet, so I had a different video game to take my
mind off of it.
I forgot about Worryland, for a while.
School started the next morning.
I was nervous about going to a new school and starting the third grade.
A lot of kids enjoy the start of school, but I was never one of them.
It usually took me awhile to make new friends, and I hated how lonely the first few days
felt before I had.
Third grade started worse than I could have imagined.
When I was getting off the bus, I tripped and fell off the step.
I landed with a thud on the hard sidewalk in front of my school.
Beneath me, something cold and wet was soaking into my clothes.
I had landed on my sack lunch, which exploded underneath me.
As I stood up, I brushed yogurt and sandwich crumbs off of my shirt.
Then I heard Ryan's laugh.
Ryan was an older boy.
He was the kind of kid that gets sent to the principal's office once a week, usually
for terrorizing some younger kid.
He was an asshole.
“You're supposed to eat your lunch, not wear it!”
Ryan's childish joke provoked a cluster of laughter from the rest of the kids getting
off the bus.
I stared at Ryan, who was easily a full foot taller than me, and had at least 60 pounds
on me.
“Aww, are you gonna cry?”
Ryan teased.
As it turned out, I was.
I ran toward my new classroom, tears streaming down my face.
I spent the first half of my day wiping tears out of my eyes instead of meeting new friends.
No one in my class wanted to talk to me since they knew I was the kid who tripped getting
off the bus.
They knew I was a loser.
To make matters worse, Ryan confirmed any doubts about my unpopularity at recess.
As I attempted to climb onto our playground's swingset, I heard Ryan laugh behind me.
“Look, the cry baby is trying to take my swing.”
Ryan was surrounded by a group of no doubt loyal cronies.
They all laughed.
“It's not your swing.”
The laughter stopped.
Ryan closed the distance between us in a matter of seconds, and grabbed me by my collar.
“What'd you say?”
He asked, between gritted teeth.
“N-n-nothing.”
I quivered.
Ryan punched me in the stomach.
Hard.
I began crying again as Ryan let go of my shirt.
I ran away from the swing set, back towards the school.
For the rest of the day, I hid in the back of the classroom, alternating between crying
and trying to look busy.
I hated my new school.
I hated Ryan.
Everything was ruined.
When I got home, there was no one there to greet me.
My dad was at work, and my mom and Roger were nowhere to be found.
There was a note on the fridge.
“Bryan, I've run to the store to get groceries.
Please do your homework while I'm gone.
Mom.”
The frustration and sadness I'd been building through the day remained.
I retreated to my room, still crying.
When I walked inside, I saw the edge of something blue peeking out from underneath my bed.
It was my new game.
It was “Worryland”.
The game didn't work the day before, but I felt the need to try it again.
Almost without thinking, I removed Megaman X from the SNES and I plugged in Worryland.
The same title screen appeared as the last time, and 8-bit music poured through the speakers.
But this time, instead of seeing the white text telling me I was worry free, I heard
a voice from my TV's speakers.
It was a soothing, female voice.
“What worries you, child?”
The tv screen remained black.
I didn't say anything.
“Bryan, you have to tell me what's wrong.”
The game had said my name.
I was awestruck with the technology.
Clearly, this game was going to be better than I had originally thought.
I looked for some cue of what I should do.
Hesitantly, I tried answering the game.
“Umm…
I had a bad day at school.
There was this bully, named Ryan.
He hit me.”
Those were all the words I could muster.
The game's screen slowly changed.
It became a small, pixelated school building.
I could tell it was a school because I could see a school bus through the glass doors on
one side of the screen.
On the left side, there was a little character.
He was wearing a red shirt and blue shorts, but his clothes had stains on them.
After a moment, I realized I was wearing a red shirt and blue shorts.
They were stained from when I had fallen on top of my lunch.
The little character in the game was supposed to be me.
The only difference was that this character had something in his hands.
It was the little ray gun from the front game cartridge.
I pressed the directional buttons on the controller, and the character moved accordingly.
I navigated the little pixelated version of me through the school.
After a moment, I came upon two pixelated children.
They had speech bubbles over their heads, and their crudely animated mouths were flapping
open and closed.
The speech bubbles read: “Look at the crybaby!”
“Nice shirt, loser!”
Reading the text brought back my frustrations.
I pushed the X button on my controller, hoping something would happen.
It did.
The little ray gun that my character was holding fired.
It didn't make a noise like a ray gun, it sounded more like a real gunshot.
A cartoonish laser blast pierced through the kids.
Instead of disappearing, like in most games, their characters exploded into a gory shower
of blood and gore.
The gore was surprisingly detailed, especially for a lower resolution game like this.
I was a little confused about the objective of the game, but I pressed forward.
My character moved through an open door way, onto a playground.
The playground hadn't been rendered in much detail, and the only clear piece of equipment
was a swingset.
In front of the swingset, was a little pixelated person.
He was taller than my character, and he looked older.
This little person also had a speech bubble above his head, but it seemed to alternate
what it was saying.
“This is my swing.”
“Look at the little crybaby” “You're supposed to eat your lunch, not wear it!”
The character was supposed to be Ryan.
I had no idea how the game was able to capture the situation in such detail.
I was beginning to feel sick to my stomach.
Suddenly, a female voice came forward from the speakers, once again.
“Bryan, don't you want to be worry free?”
I sat on my bed and stared at the screen.
What was this game?
“Bryan, press X to end your worries!”
I hesitated.
This game must have been for an older kid.
I was starting to get that nagging feeling, like I was doing something that I wasn't
supposed to be.
I began to reach for the off switch on the SNES.
Then I heard another voice come through my speakers.
“Aww, are you gonna cry?”
It was Ryan's voice.
I pressed X.
The little ray gun fired, and Ryan's avatar exploded.
There was a cartoonish scream, and the same graphic gore exploded on the right side of
the screen.
The screen went black again.
Little white text appeared in the upper left corner of my screen.
“YOU HAVE NO WORRIES, TRY AGAIN LATER.”
I went to bed feeling twisted-up inside.
I felt like throwing up.
My dad must have been able to sense my guilt, because, when he was telling me goodnight,
he asked, “Bryan, is something wrong?”
“No Dad.
Just tired is all.”
“Okay.
You'd tell me if there was something wrong at school, right?”
“Yes dad.”
“Okay.
Goodnight, Bryan.”
“Goodnight dad.”
I didn't see Ryan on the bus the next day.
I didn't see any of his friends either.
In fact, I never saw Ryan or his friends again.
For years I didn't know what happened to them, but I always felt like it was my fault.
I always felt guilty.
A couple of years later, I looked up Ryan's last name from our old school directory.
I was trying to find out whether he had moved or been taken out of school for some reason.
I figured that his sudden disappearance was strangely coincidental.
All I found was a news article, dated September 1996, almost a full year after I moved.
“BODIES FINALLY FOUND IN MISSING PERSONS CASE Sep. 16, 1996
After a year of waiting, the bodies of Ryan Ruvey, Sam Mcarlott, and Ashton Freebur have
finally been recovered.
The three boys disappeared from their homes on August 26th of last year.
There had been no leads as to their whereabouts.
All three had a previous history of delinquency and behavior issues, so it was expected that
they ran away from home.
However, Sheriff Lopez has stated that three bodies were found near the edge of Giliman
Reservoir several days ago.
They were identified by their school ID's, which were found in their pockets.
Sam Mcarlott and Ashton Freebur were both found fully intact, save for minor cuts and
bruises.
Ryan Ruvey's body was found severely mutilated and dismembered.
All three appear to have been shot in the head.
The investigation into their disappearance has been reopened.
All three families have declined to comment at this time.”
August 26th was the first day of school.
That was the day I played Worryland for the first time.
After that I could barely bring myself to look at it, let alone play it again.
I buried it underneath my bed and quickly pushed it out of my mind.
I wish I could say that was the only time that someone played Worryland.
But that isn't the case.
My mom was out of town at the time, so my dad was the only one in charge at our house.
My dad was a good man, but wasn't an expert when it came to child rearing.
He wasn't as patient with Roger or I as my mom was.
One night, Roger and I were acting particularly unruly.
Roger had refused to eat all of his dinner.
Dad had made spinach, which was something Roger particularly hated.
Dad had grown tired of arguing with my four year old brother.
He grabbed Roger's alligator toy and told him, “I'm taking this away.
You can have it back when you eat your dinner.”
Roger, being only four years old, didn't fully understand why his favorite toy was
being confiscated.
He immediately burst into tears and, the second my dad turned around, fled the room.
The phone began ringing and my dad picked it up off the hook.
He motioned for me to go get Roger.
I followed Roger out of the kitchen, and turned the corner just in time to see him reach the
top of the stairs and run into my room.
The only reason Roger ever went into my room was to play the SNES.
He wasn't any good at it, but I think he liked the music and colors.
I called after him, “Roger, you have to come eat dinner.
You can't play videogames right now!”
There was no response.
I heard my door slam shut and lock.
“C'mon Rog, just eat your dinner and I'm sure dad will give you back your alligator.”
As I approached the door, I heard a familiar 8-bit theme begin playing.
I struggled to place exactly what the music was as I fumbled with the locked doorknob.
Then I heard a voice.
“What worries you child?”
In a panic, I began pulling at the door.
I tried and I tried to force it open, but it was too strong for my eight year old body.
I heard Roger answer.
“My dad is being mean.”
I listened intently as the game's music quieted.
I heard Roger pressing buttons.
I heard my Dad's voice come from downstairs as he talked on the phone.
I heard the game speak again.
Its voice was calm and even… almost peaceful.
“Press X to end your worries!”
Panic flooded my brain.
I screamed for Roger not to press X. I screamed for my dad to stop talking on the phone.
I was too late.
A cartoonish scream came from my room.
A real one came from the kitchen.
I ran downstairs.
The kitchen was empty.
The phone, which had been at Dad's ear just a second before was lying coldly on the ground.
A dial tone poured out from the receiver.
The back door was open.
They never found Dad's body.
I'm not sure I want them too.
I don't think I want to know what happened to him.
Ever since then, it's just been me, my mom, and Roger.
We stayed in Giliman, but we had to move to a much smaller house, since my dad wasn't
around anymore.
A couple of years later, my mom ended up selling my Super Nintendo, and all of my games, including
Worryland.
We needed the money to make ends meet.
And besides, I didn't really want to play videogames anymore.
They made me feel sick.
Still, I wonder sometimes who has that game.
I wonder if they've played it yet.
I hope to god that if they did, they were worry-free.
3.
It all started on a gray, rainy April evening in 1992.
It was a Friday.
I know this because my parents only allowed me to make my way down to the local video
library and rent a new video game on Fridays after I had gotten out of school.
It was like my reward for being a good boy and making good grades.
So, six-year-old me had picked out 'Top Gear' for the Super Nintendo.
The black sports car on the front of the box surrounded by a blaze of what I assumed was
fiery nitreous oxide propellant called to me.
And so did the tagline adervtising "TWO PLAYER SIMULTANEOUS RACING!"
I'd often spend weekends over at my friend Brett's house.
We'd make our way to his third floor room...
I called it the "blue room" because the carpet and all the walls were blue... and make his
fold-out bed into a couch, grab a snack, and play video games for hours.
It was surprisingly spacious up there, too.
Sometimes we'd take breaks and turn out the lights to have glow-in-the-dark nerf gun battles
or play a game of hide and seek.
But tonight, we were going to race around the world!
USA, Brazil, Japan, Germany, you name it.
And instead of switching off the controller like we normally did, we could play together
the whole time, in glorious split-screen.
I stepped out of my mom's car as she dropped me off at Brett's house and kissed her goodbye.
The rain pelted gently against the top of my navy blue raincoat and my little Velcro
shoes sloshed through puddles as I waded to Brett's back door with the game rental box
clasped to my chest.
His parents let me in.
I gave them a quick hello and bounded up the steps to the blue room.
Brett swung open the door.
"What'd you get, Kevin?" he asked with wild, excited eyes.
"Top Gear!
They just got it in today.
This was the last copy.
It's a racing game.
2 players!"
"Coooooool!
Let's pop it in!"
With that, I ripped open the case and Brett mashed the cartridge into his SNES.
He plugged in both controllers and gave me the Player 2 one, as was customary.
"Hey," I said.
"Before we play, let me go grab some drinks and snacks."
"OK, but hurry up!"
I returned in a jiffy with a couple of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches his mom had already
made for us in advance and some Kool-Aid.
As we ate, I thumbed through Top Gear's instruction booklet.
What happened next makes my skin crawl when I think about it.
I flipped to the very last page of the manual.
Everyone familiar with old-school gaming will know that this was typically the "Notes" page
where you'd jot down passwords.
I looked at it closely.
In the middle of all those blank lines, something was scribbled in red pen.
"Huh?"
I looked at the scribbling quizzically.
Brett glanced over.
"I thought you said this came out today."
"It did."
"Then how'd this get on here?"
"No clue, man."
We both looked at each other in confusion.
"Well what does it say?"
Brett asked.
I leaned in.
"It's a poem.
It says:
MUSTANG SALLY OR SHOULD I SAY MICHELLE
WHAT'S HELPLESSLY SCREAMING?
YOUR TIRES, THEN YOU, IN HELL -JJB"
I shot a look to Brett.
"Should we tell your parents about this?"
"We can tell them later.
It's probably just some dumb joke.
Don't you want to play?"
"OK, we'll tell them later."
With that we booted up the game.
Everything about Top Gear was mesmerizing.
The sense of speed, the music, the tight controls.
Hours flew by effortlessly.
We played in a trance, racing across Vegas, Rio, Tokyo.
Checkpoint after checkpoint, finish line after finish line, the white dotted lines zoomed
past us at a blistering pace.
Pretty soon we had finished the whole game.
To our dismay and disappointment, we didn't experience any glorious cutscenes.
What we got was a message displaying the following:
CONGRATULATIONS ON COMPLETING TOP GEAR BUT CAN YOU WIN ON
CHAMPIONSHIP LEVEL
Brett and I looked at each other and let out exasperated sighs but then nodded.
We changed the difficulty to "Championship" in the Options screen and set out to beat
the game again.
Meanwhile, the rain intensified outside.
It was gray as ever, turning dark, and we were in the midst of a roaring thunderstorm.
Thunder cracked loudly outside the back window as Brett started the next set of races.
We did well on the North America, South America, and Japan, courses but we kept getting stuck
on Germany.
God damned Germany!
There was one track in particular in Germany called "Dark Forest" where we'd accidentally
run through the Pit Stop area, bogging us down and allowing the other cars to pass us.
Every time we failed the race, we were told to try again and given the level password:
"WRECKAGE".
After a few times of retrying this level, we finally beat it, or so I thought.
I came in first place, and Brett finished second.
But when the post-race results screen came up, it showed me in second place and Brett
in third place.
Who was in first place?
"JJB".
I looked to Brett.
"What the heck?"
"I know you came in first, man.
You were right ahead of me.
I saw you pass the finish line."
"Yeah...weird..."
I pushed a button to advance to the next screen and the game froze totally.
The music kept looping, but we were stuck on this results screen.
I was used to NES games messing up, but errors like this were fairly uncommon on the Super
Nintendo.
Brett reset his system, and I reminded him of the password.
He entered "W-R-E-C-K-A-G-E" and pressed Start.
Just as he did, a female's scream came blaring out of his television speakers.
I looked at Brett.
Puzzlement filled his face and he shrugged.
At the time, I think we both figured it was some kind of strange password confirmation
sound effect.
We continued playing...
3 laps down.
Then 4.
OK, now the final lap.
About one fourth of the way to the finish line, the game began flickering back and forth
very rapidly between the main game and what looked like a pixelated head shot photo of
a pretty blonde woman.
She could have been a model.
The pulsing intensified to point that it distracted me and Brett from the game and we both hit
lamp posts.
But at this point, we didn't even care about winning anymore.
We were so curious and weirded out that we both set our controllers down and got right
up to the TV screen to examine what was going on.
The game music ceased and in its place was a weird, deep droning sound.
The woman's image continued to flicker.
The droning got louder.
And slowly, the photo of the woman's face began to split into pieces and get pulled
apart to every corner of the screen.
At this point I was genuinely scared and told Brett that I was going to go tell his mom
what was going on.
He nodded in agreement.
Just as we began to walk away, we heard a high-pitched squeal followed by a sickening
crash, and the power went out.
Brett and I walked over to his window.
Though it was now pitch black outside and there was a thick veil of rain, a streak of
lightning illuminated the sky long enough for us to make out a red Mustang completely
wrapped around a telephone poll.
We stayed up there and watched out his window for the next thirty minutes or so.
Cops, firefighters, and an ambulance arrived.
When the body was recovered and placed onto a stretcher, I peered down and squinted to
make out what I was seeing.
All I saw was a mess of blonde hair and red, chunky flesh where a face should have been.
Later that night, the power came back on.
Brett and I were both downstairs getting something to eat when we walked past the living room,
where his parents were watching the local news.
A reporter appeared:
"Late tonight on Juban Rode, 21-year-old Michelle Wilkinson was on her way home from her boyfriend's
house when her car's tires lost their grip on the road.
Forensic detectives say that the former prom queen and local model was unsuccessful in
regaining control of her car and collided head-on with a telephone pole.
Medical teams were dispatched but were unsuccessful in saving the young woman's life.
She was pronounced dead on the scene.
Weather conditions and speed are believed to have been factors.
Our hearts go out to the Wilkinson family.
We here at Channel 9 news are truly sorry to hear of this terrible, terrible Tragedy."
The news reporter frowned solemnly.
"Back to you, Lisa."
2.
"X-Box, Stop" I wouldn't call myself a gamer.
I don't play too many games, or maybe I should say I don't like many games.
I play a lot, but because of the sheer quantity I need to filter through, I must be frugal.
I've been playing the same old Counter-Strike matches for the past ten years.
That being said, I don't get many new games, and about 2 years ago I purchased my first
XBox 360 from Craigslist.
There was nothing strange about it, no ominous air of death or any sort of shady dealings.
I met a broke kid and didn't even haggle with him.
He was polite and the whole thing took place pretty quickly on his front porch.
He lived in a pretty nice part of town, but probably didn't get hand-outs from his folks.
It felt like a pretty standard trade, exactly the way you would want it to be.
There was only one slight problem.
The controller he gave me didn't work.
I still got a pretty good deal on the console, but had to get a new one.
I was in luck and got a pretty good price on a used one.
(There's me being frugal again...)
Since I saved a few bucks, I picked up a headset and a 3 month subscription to Xbox Live.
Luckily, they were both also on sale!
When I got the console, he included a copy of Modern Warfare 3, so I wanted to play that
online.
I was pretty excited to get my game on after unlocking the "Thrifty" achievement.
I had only tried to turn the console on twice before I realized the controller was broken,
so there wasn't much I could do without a new one.
There were 2 profiles left on there, so I did I system restore or format or whatever
that is called.
Having erased everything, I created a new profile and made an avatar that looked like
me.
I didn't put much effort into it, though.
After a few frustrating minutes of network configuration, I punched in the code on the
prepaid card I purchased and was online for the first time.
Finally, I was connected to a world of "current" gamers and excited to try the latest shooter!
I wasn't up-to-date with modern games, but apparently my skills were.
In Call of Duty, I was getting first place in nearly every match I played.
It almost felt like I was cheating.
Was I doing something different that no one had thought of?
I started uploading videos and posting on forums.
Some people would message me and invite me to join their "clan" and I felt like a mini-celebrity.
One group even asked me "if it would be cool to use my strategy?"
After two months, I had over 300 new "friends" just because I was good at a video game.
It started to eat into my personal time as I turned down plans to game.
I broke up with my girlfriend.
I considered quitting my job and took a serious cutback on hours.
To account for the loss in income, I monetizied my videos and had a surprisingly large influx
in cashflow.
I quit my job.
I made more money by playing video games than I would make in any job my resume could land.
In less than three months of owning an Xbox and playing this game, I had become a highly
respected CoD player and a new game in the franchise was about to come out.
Black Ops 2 was hitting stores in one week and I had the potential to rise up the leaderboards
if I jumped on it the day it came out.
I remember waiting in line at midnight.
I remember running out of the mall, not starting the car, but certainly ripping the shrinkwrap
with my teeth while driving home.
The smell of the new disc was heavenly.
I sped and should have been ticketed, but managed to pop that disc in my tray less than
15 minutes after the time printed on the receipt.
There was a problem.
My Gold subscription was up.
No big deal.
I punched in my debit card numbers and was online in a few minutes.
After 4 days and 12 hours of total sleep, I had made it to the top 50 on the player
leaderboard for Black Ops 2.
I needed some rest and took a day off from playing.
This was the first time I really fiddled around with the Xbox.
I had been playing Call of Duty non-stop since I discovered my skillset was perfect for that
game.
I signed up for Netflix, watched some shows, then connected to my Facebook.
I didn't really share my successful game-related YouTube channel with my friends, and a few
people commented on the status update that said I linked to Xbox.
After watching a movie, I checked Facebook again via XBox and saw I had 30+ friend requests.
Someone had recognized me from the "linked to Xbox update" and now my personal Facebook
was widely known to my YouTube channel.
This was slightly annoying, so I went private.
The problem wasn't really solved.
I still got a lot of requests, so I made a Facebook profile for the YouTube page.
After a few weeks and hitting the #10 spot on the Black Ops 2 leaderboards, I had more
friends on that profile than my personal one that I've had for as many years...
It was only a short matter of time before I was invited to a tournament and before long,
I was on a cross-country flight to play for $10000 in Los Angeles.
I was set to play in front of a crowd.
People cheered when I walked to my station.
I had been playing the damn game for 6 months of my life and I was somehow famous.
An article released before the tournament called me a prodigy and titled the article
something like "why I'll win."
Then we started.
And I failed.
Miserably.
I played the worst I ever had.
Total loser, I placed dead last by a long shot.
"I choked under pressure," they said in video commentaries.
As quickly as I had risen to e-success, it was all gone.
The fame.
The fans.
The viewers.
The money.
I didn't change anything about the way I released videos or played, but no one wanted to watch
them anymore.
I even ranked up to #7 on the leaderboards, but it didn't matter.
The dream was over.
I needed to get back to reality.
I needed to get a new job and re-boot my life.
I did so pretty quickly, and just like that, my short-lived life as a celebrity gamer was
over.
My new job was in the same field as my old, but at an office with a lot of younger folks.
They would talk about Call of Duty and I wouldn't say a word.
Little did they know, they had probably watched some of my videos before - unbeknownst one
of the game's best players worked in an office down the hall.
Or was I?
The console that had brought me fame sat beneath my giant TV that I purchased with the ad money
from Youtube gathering dust.
I would occasionally use it for Netflix, but for the most part, I was done.
I wasn't a gamer anymore.
It was fun, but it was over.
I even used a different account for Netflix so my old "friends" wouldn't message me and
ask to play.
Frankly, I never recovered from the failure at the tournament.
Despite not playing anymore, it always bothered me how the huge disappointment in the tournament
occurred.
I didn't change my strategies for the tournament at all.
In some ways, playing in the tournament felt unnatural.
It wasn't the same as playing at home.
Perhaps that's just it, I thought.
I'm sure some gamers who smoke would do better at a tourney if they had a cigarette in their
mouth.
Despite this, I still should have done alright - but I didn't.
I was #7 in the world but #40 in a tournament of forty people.
Time went on as I led my normal life, but then, on November 22 of last year, things
changed.
It was a Friday, which I had off, and slept in to the sound of someone at my door.
It was FedEx with a large package.
I signed and accepted because sure why not.
I was suspicious, but opened it to find a brand new XBox One and a copy of Call of Duty:
Ghosts.
It was from Amazon.
I didn't order it.
I checked all of my bank statements, my Paypal, my Amazon account and anything I could think
would have proof of this purchase.
Maybe I pre-ordered during my gaming fame?
Nope.
I couldn't find it anywhere.
I'm not sure why I thought it would explain anything, but I booted up the 360 and logged
into my former XBox Live account.
There were a bunch of friend requests and messages from fans, but nothing seemed out
of place.
Then I received a system message.
It asked me if I would like to link my account to my XBox One.
This was a little strange, as I hadn't unboxed the thing yet.
I powered down and set up the XBox One.
I logged into my account.
It asked me a similar message to the one I saw on 360, but seeing it here made more sense.
I had my profile available on the new console and thought I would check out the new game.
After all, it was Friday, I had nothing to do.
My Call of Duty Elite profile carried over some stats from the two other games I played,
but it looked a little suspicious.
These results said I was the #4 player in the world for Black Ops 2.
How could I have gone up the ladder while not playing for months?
I checked my YouTube channel.
It was full of new videos I didn't post, but in the vain of ones I would.
Was someone using my account and keeping up with my gameplay?
Even the gamertag in the videos was mine.
It was my account.
Was I Jekyll and Hyde?
Was something broken in my brain?
Did the loss of that tournament cause me to divide my own life in two different worlds?
No.
I am sane.
This is absurd.
Someone was using my XBox Live account and recording videos to my YouTube as if they
were me.
On top of that craziness, my bank account routing information had been changed.
I was still getting a cut from ad revenue, but not nearly what I should have been.
Some of the new videos have more views than my best ones.
Not only did they take my money, they made it seem as if I was still getting some - just
not much.
The passwords were still the same, but my e-mail was no longer associated with either
account.
I hadn't even noticed that I wasn't getting billed for XBox live.
I guess I had thought the service lapsed.
However, my account was active and paid in full for the next 9 months.
I contacted YouTube to discuss what happened and they suggested I find a lawyer.
This whole situation was not what I expected to get myself into after starting the day
with a random new game console showing up at my door for free.
I guess it wasn't free.
After some investigation, I found that the ad revenue from the videos I didn't know about
was put into a savings account that I also didn't know about.
It was my own account, associated with the checking account I normally use.
I never set it up, but it's in my name at my bank.
It has more money in it than I have ever seen or made in my entire life.
Every day, there are deposits for thousands, sometimes over ten thousand dollars.
The amounts in no way match the profit from YouTube.
That's maybe one or two percent.
At this point, I had no idea where the rest was coming from.
During my game fame, I alienated a lot of my close friends and didn't have anyone to
really confide in.
This was all hitting me pretty hard.
I was so confused.
I broke down and started crying.
Then the XBox One made a noise.
It was a faint beep, but the tone was so consoling.
It made me stop crying and I didn't know why.
Nothing at all was making sense.
I looked at the Kinect sitting in front of my TV and said to it, "XBox, what is going
on?"
It didn't do anything.
Part of my was actually convinced it would answer.
Suddenly, a new message notification appeared on screen.
I checked to find a message with the sender field blank.
It was a list of 50+ bank accounts and their web login credentials.
I checked them and they seemed to match up with the amounts in my newly discovered savings,
but I still had no idea where the money was coming from.
I turned my head to look at the Kinect.
"XBox, where is all this money coming from?"
Again, nothing happened, but after a few moments I received another similar message.
This was a listing of other websites and login credentials.
The list included brokerage websites, bitcoin wallets, online casinos, poker sites, and
even adult webcams.
I logged into the accounts to see even more unaccounted for amounts in each of the respective
accounts, including six-figure balance in one of the casinos.
I felt like any minute the police were going to kick down my door and I still wouldn't
understand how.
Yet again, I turned to Kinect.
"XBox, how?"
I asked hesitantly.
There was another brief pause and another new message.
I didn't understand this one, though.
It was garbled machine code and looked like the results of opening an image with a text
editor.
Going through the list of websites again, I found one that was certainly the most strange.
It was an accountancy firm with the same last name as me.
I logged in to that account and the website greeted me as the company's CEO.
The inbox and outbox were both full of messages running the company.
They were all signed with my name.
I called the number that was listed in the site's "About Us" section to reach a soft-spoken,
young secretary.
I told her I was a doctor, needing to speak to the CEO about his mother.
She asked his mother's name and I told her my mother's name.
She told me to wait a moment and put me on hold.
An incoming call notice sounded on my phone, but I ignored it.
She returned to tell me he was unavailable and asked if I wanted to leave a message.
I told her it was urgent and she read me his cell phone number.
Rather, she read me my cell phone number.
I thanked her and hung up.
At this point, I was convinced that I was crazy.
I looked at the Kinect as I had done before for answers, saying "XBox, am I crazy?"
After the usual wait, a message popped up as the others had, only saying "No."
Then what was it?
Where was this secret life coming from?
Who was doing this?
Had this computer taken on a life of its own?
It's the only thing that made sense.
Grasping at my hair now, struggling for sanity, I looked into the Kinect like I was begging
for mercy to whisper "Xbox, stop."
None of those accounts or passwords work anymore, and all of the videos I didn't upload on my
YouTube channel are gone.
The money is no longer in my savings account and the bank tells me I never had one.
I think I could have been rich, but I chose and preferred to be sane.
I sold that XBox One from my front porch just how I bought the first one.
I hope one of you frugal gamers out there got a good deal.
It was like new, and only used for one day...
Before we get to number 1, if you've ever been curious as to what I look like in real
life, then follow me on Instagram @dylan_is_chillin_yt, with underscores instead of spaces.
I also have Twitter @YT_Chills where I post video updates.
I'd really appreciate it if you followed me and feel free to send me a DM if you have
a questions or suggestions.
If you'd like to see more of these videos in the future, then hit that subscribe button
because I upload a new scary video every Thursday.
1.So after a year of nagging from some of my gamer buddies, I caved, and finally got
myself one of those virtual reality headsets.
I was soon about to find out that there was nothing "virtual" about them.
At first I was indifferent towards them, but once I started using it I realized that it
truly does live upto the hype.
I even went ahead and got myself a swivel chair.The experience was so immersive I often
forgot I was sitting on a chair in my apartment and not really soaring across the sky looking
down on prehistoric animals and what not.
Fast forward a few weeks and it became a habbit of mine to come home from work and lay a bag
of chips next to me and watch netlix on it until dinner time.
Okay so, for those of you who have no experience with a VR headset, let me just tell you that
its identical to a real theatre when you watch movies on it.
Youll see yourself sitting in the middle of a cinema hall or whatever setting you choose,
but all the chairs are empty, you can even look behind you, like 180 degree behind to
empty rows of chairs.Id always wondered what itd be like to own a personal cinema hall
and this was the closest id ever been to it so it was pretty cool.
So one day I come home as usual and followed tradition and decided id binge watch true
detective, it was weekend so I wasnt worried about sleeping late and my girlfriend was
out of town so I really had nowhere to be.
Im down 3 episodes of season 1 and really gripped with the whole series.
Half episode in and I hear a light "thud", as if a door just closed behind me.
I take the set off and look around wondering who mightve walked in.
And i realize that there is no door behind me, im sitting against a window on my couch.
I still get up and make sure that my door was locked, and to my satisfaction, it was.
I shrug it off and continued to sit down and watch.
So my weekend is up and im back to work.
I walk in and to my delight, kim is already there (my girlfriend).
I chat with her for a while and catch up with her before our shift starts.
After a day of listening to entitled brats and putting on fake smiles when they try on
clothes, im beat ( I work at a Zara store and we get a lot of people come in who think
they own the store and the people working there).
Kim and I grab dinner and we decide to spend the night at my place since we'd been apart
for the weekend.
Its about 1 am and I wake up to have water.
As im making my way to my room I hear a light "thud" behind me.
I turn around and notice the window in the hall is open.
I figure the wind mustve blown the bathroom door close or something.
But to my surprise, it was open.
Now, I didnt give it much thought partly because I was too sleepy and partly because knowing
someone else is there with you in the apartment makes you less likely to think negatively
of such minor occurences.
I slowly drag myself to bed and fall asleep once again (to give you an idea, my apartment
is "L" shaped, the smaller head is where the hall and bathroom is and the longer head has
two bedrooms opposite to eachother with a storage room in between).
The next day I get home from work and watch a million watch to die on the VR.
Im laughing and really enjoying myself when I hear the all too familiar "thud" behind
me.
I instinctively turn my head with the VR on and stare at the end of the hall, at the entrance,
I see something.
Its a dark patch a little darker than the surroundings.
You guys know liquid black?
Like the ink?
Ye, that kind.
I restart the device and look up again, still there.
I figure it mustve always been there since I never really looked up there.
I continue watching the movie and im laughing and suddenly stop.
Im overwhelmed by this realization that im alone in my apartment with a headset over
my eyes and I feel like im being watching.
Now im not one of those paranoid types but the feeling was just too strong.
So I take it off and decide that ive had enough of virtual reality for one day.
For the next few days I stayed away from it and spent more time with kim.
Fast forward a few more days and its weekend again, and kim has to be away, again.
I prepare myself for another weekend without her.
I get a call from a friend and he says theres a new bar that opened up across the street
to where he lived and we went to check it out.
We had a few drinks, chatted a bit and went our way.
I figure its only 11pm and ive nothing to do tomorrow, so I think ill finish the movie
I left off.
I wear it over my head and start the movie, but my gaze is suddenly directed towards my
extreme left on the last seat of the row ahead of me, I see a liquid black.
I recalled the ink blot id seen over at the back and turn around, but it isnt there.
Now im geniuenely freaked out and just take it off.
I decide ill contact the company about this first thing in the morning assuming its a
glitch.
So I wake up and contact them and they ask me to come over to their help center.
They checked it out and said that it was fine.
I checked it, and it was.
They said sometimes stuff happens thats really hard to pindown and just fixes itself.
I figured it was a fair enough explanation because that usally is how most technology
behaves.
Satisfied with my visit, I return home.
Now I wont bullshit around and cut to the chase.
It was there again, but closer now.
It sat just a few chairs behind me, and I could almost make out its features.
It didnt seem like an ink blot anymore.
I suddenly felt like someone touched the back of my neck and whispered in my ear.
It was getting too real too soon and I flung away the headset from my face and looked around.
No one.
Obviously, I was alone.
I chuckled and thought about how silly I was being and looked over at the corner of the
room, I seemed to have broken the headset.
I frowned thinking I wasted all that cash due to a little paranoia but a little part
of me was glad it broke.
The weekend is up and im back to spending time with kim and working.
We went to grab dinner after work and I notice something in my peripheral vision while eating,
and it slowly becomes clearer, ink blot.
Now im not stupid, so I instantly made the connection and realized I wasnt even wearing
the headset.
I tell Kim were leaving and pay at the front desk and leave.
She asked me what that was all about and looked at me weird.
I tell her to just be quiet for a while and we go back to her place cuz im certainly not
staying at mine after what just happened.
So here I am, scared out of my mind and not sure what to do, ill update if anything happens.
Thanks for checking out this video.
Be sure to subscribe because I upload a new scary video every Thursday.
Or if you're still not convinced, here are some of my other videos that I think you'd
like.
Enjoy!