Author’s Note: This story was written live on stream with the audience voting to determine the path of the story. The underlined phrases in the choice of three were the winning pathways. Stop by twitch.tv/blainearcade if you’d ever like to participate in our interactive fiction.
Psycho Clown Epic Playlist The Guy Run Over by the Bus
He didn’t remember the destruction, as he’d never lived it, but he felt like he should have. The event was so cataclysmic, so volcanic, that it probably shook most of the world. People from a continent away did report hearing the boom. Raery Jeed was not one of them. This was not his experience, so he walked through it as cautiously as he could. Continue reading
This is the first in what will hopefully be a series of posts about video games that did not get a fair shake in the marketplace. The Sexy Brutale is the ideal first candidate given its rich atmosphere, immersive music, distinct art style, compelling gameplay, and inexplicable failure to puncture the gaming public’s imagination. Continue reading
Prompt: A history book sends its reader 1000 years into the future.
The library was restricted to anyone under the age of eighteen. It wasn’t just books that were kept there, but all sorts of anomalies. They called it a school because there many thins to learn there, but few people outside the facility understood what that really meant. The things you learned there could change you, even making you into a different person altogether. Continue reading
Prompt: A love story between a man and a greasy grilled cheese.
It was really an accomplishment that they had made the tour that dull. There were only six facilities like it in all the world, yet the guide couldn’t widen her eyes long enough to communicate that with any enthusiasm. Continue reading
Prompt: A kid gets taken by a band of space pirates and eventually finds a magic katana.
Even the bag over Maximus’s head was strange. It wasn’t burlap; it was some kind of rubbery fabric capable of holding a charge. He knew that because, every time they bumped his head into something, a jolt of static moved between the bag and the tip of his ears. He was only thirteen, just young enough to fit under the giant man’s arm like a briefcase. Continue reading
The problems for Jetson started around the mid 1900s. He’d taken off like a shot straight out of the year 3500. God bless his owner for having such a hell of an arm. Jetson had bounded flawlessly through the debris of 3000, the socialist secret-less utopia of 2800, and even skipped across the surface of the oil-covered oceans of 2500.
The damn 1900s however, were full of people who had no idea what they were doing. They stumbled between philosophies and religions like they were hemming and hawing at a buffet. It was a century full of explosions both literal and figurative, and either of them could’ve distracted Jetson. The real problem with running through time was not getting distracted by the sad sights. Continue reading
The man seemed to misplace his name. All of a sudden he couldn’t remember it. He remembered his situation just fine. He was currently traveling through time, strolling through it really, and observing the effect. The time tunnel was a pleasant light show, though his mind had difficulty following it, what with the quantum confusion and all.
He remembered what he was doing before the time tunnel, just ten minutes ago, if minutes still existed. He was very devoted to his idea. He’d spent years getting everything arranged, though those years looked like nothing more than plastic bags over his shoulder now. Time travel had eluded everyone else, but his idea was fresh. Continue reading
Of the sixteen time machines in operation, only one played a video of someone tap-dancing. The machine itself wasn’t much to marvel at; in fact, it looked like a space heater from the 1970’s, just with a fancier coat of paint and 6,380 small wires snaking out of its base and entering all kinds of unusual places around the laboratory. Some went into sockets, some hugged the wall and left the room, and others rose into the air dangerously enough to get tagged with black and orange warning stickers. Continue reading
My pager went off. Both our faces forgot what emotions they were supposed to be expressing and sunk. Our perfect moment shattered by that obnoxious beeping. Why did it have to be now? Why did whatever maniac who was blowing up whichever politician pick now? It’s as if our moment was his countdown. Drop to one knee… 3. Open the blue velvet box with the paused water ring that cost me four months’ pay… 2. Ask her, “Will you marry me?”… 1. Boom. Pause.
50 hours until crystallization Continue reading
I’ve got a couple short stories to tell you… well not exactly short. They were short for me, just a few minutes or hours; they were painfully long for everyone else, sometimes days and sometimes years.
You can have the legal details first. Legally, my name is Clarence Under. I was born black to white parents, which my father was pretty upset about. He left for a while but eventually came back. Legally, I’m married to a fantastic woman named Alberta. She co-owns a garden supply shop with one of her chatty friends. (I think all the plants there do well because she’s always talking at them… I heard that makes plants grow) Alberta’s second job is worrying because, legally, I’m a police officer. Continue reading