Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh, nor do I claim rights to any of the affiliated characters. Sims and all sequels are the full legal property of their respective owner(s) and no copyright infringement is intended.

Warnings/Notes: Probably not what you're expecting, but I hope you enjoy this regardless.


Virtual Vignette


Day 1:

When Otogi-boy phones to pitch a new game, he is surprised that the doting prodigy stands to gain little from the endeavor. He does not present the disk as an endorsement or investment, rather as a sentiment of friendship between the two of them. After the budding success of dungeon dice monsters, Pegasus figures there isn't much to lose in trying something at the younger man's request, and hastily accepts a copy.

"With this you'll be able to create an entire world and population, if you're ambitious enough."

"Tempt me with power hmm? Clever boy." Pegasus examines the thing with growing interest before shaking hands with his partner and hurrying off to the remaining tasks of the day.

When, at last, he returns to his island, he settles into his office with a glass of red wine and stares at the abandoned case on the desk. Though he'd promised to play, a large part of him scoffs at the game's now less-than-novel premise. To explore a new world, he decides, he'd be better off reading a book.

Day 2:

He is a man of selective patience and little free time. It's all he can do to distract himself with phone calls through the process of installation and loading a neighborhood. When it has finished, he admires the graphics. As he starts to create a character, he grimaces at the awful, dated clothing, and less-than-flattering hairstyles. This game, he decides, would benefit from the addition of duel monsters.

Day 3:

He buys a starter home with what little money the game allows first-time players. In the back of his mind he wonders if this is how poor people really live, four rooms in a house, mostly bare, appliances that break after a few uses. He uses the newspaper to find an entry level business job, and rolls his eyes at the idea of being anyone's "coffee courier," even in a game.

Day 4:

Playing pretend is far from glamorous. Though this game will always be second to the wonderfully simple world of cartoons; he is taken with its realism. For hours he sits, fascinated by interactions he did not know were possible before. He has finally been promoted, but the title is no less demeaning, and the pay no more help with the bills. His character is behind and has to sell a lamp to cover expenses. Pegasus notices that he seems not to socialize at work, when he comes home his mood boasts things like "strained" and "lonely." The CEO sips his wine, "Get used to it." He says.

Day 7:

He has missed a second promotion by a fraction of an hour and fights not to toss the laptop across the room. Strapped for cash and electrocuted when trying to fix the TV of his own accord, he decides to do without it. This game is too realistic, he disgustedly notes, business is just as thankless, and neighbors just as uninviting. He tries to send his character to the park to meet a friend after work, but he passes out shortly after arriving, and sleeps for nearly three hours before Pegasus can force him to wake.

Day 10:

Level three of business is hardly more rewarding than level two. Inwardly, he wonders why he still plays this stupid game. For all the long hours he works hard and wakes up strained, he does not advance. He is behind on skill points necessary for a promotion, and barely has time to eat after returning from work, when, he wonders with mild irritation, do they expect him to learn charisma? As he is about to give up the game for good, something miraculous happens. A person is teleported in front of his house and walks right in, as if he owns the place. His character talks with this person until his spirits are lifted, and Pegasus goes to the relationship panel to analyze the mysterious stranger. The name is listed as "Social Bunny," Pegasus examines him closer, zooming in, and realizes that he is indeed in a rabbit costume. He smiles gleefully to thoughts of his favorite cartoon. The game has its perks. Maybe he won't give up on it just yet.

Day 12:

Social bunny or no social bunny, he is tired of working for an idiot boss that refuses to acknowledge hard work and dedication because he is lacking a few measly friends. The game is wearing on him. Out of curiosity, he goes onto a help forum where he finds a cheat for money. Pulling up the tab where the game is running, he shakes his head. Cheating at life is absurd. He knows, letting a hand hover over what was once his eye, that it gets a person nowhere fast, in the end.

Day 17:

He has advanced no farther in work; his tiny house is depressing and mundane. Pegasus realizes for the first time since he began playing, that he is not just fed up, he is bored. He decides to try a blind date and pays a small sum of money for a woman to appear at his doorstep. It lasts less than two hours virtual time before the woman has called him childish and tells him he has issues he needs to work out. He very nearly cracks the screen from slamming it shut, when he opens it, the game has been recovered by his superior operating system, and he convinces himself that no one named Crumplebottom is worth his concern, anyway.

Day 19:

The stupid game has done it now. As soon as he carpools to work, a notification shows up in the corner, "it's your birthday soon," it says. It mentions throwing a party. Why? He thinks bitterly, I've no one to come. He plays around to see just how old his character is, and notices that he will age from young adult to adult in one day. Swallowing thickly, he decides to cheat at life, just to show them he can.

Day 25

He has created a mansion with lavish amenities and toilets that don't clog after one use. Several of the rooms are adorned with toy boxes and baby cribs. Soon, he tells himself; the character will meet someone and be married. The lump of pixels has quit its job in business, with more miraculously acquired fortune than he could ever need, and is free to spend the rest of his rapidly passing life in blissful relaxation.

Day 28

Again, he thinks this game is too realistic. All of the people who were his age entering this world have already found partners, settled down, had children. They struggle with extra mouths to feed, but they are happy. Sometimes he is invited to the birthday party of one of these little ones, even being a distant acquaintance, and always comes with a gift hoping he will figure out how to give it to the infant or toddler. As for his character, he spent a few days slowly warming up to a charming woman, only to find her a married, cheating slob. She was gone faster than she had come, even though his pathetic character still has passing wants to "talk to Mindy" or "pillow fight with Mindy." You will not be that man, Pegasus admonishes. Destroying someone's marriage, no matter how unhappy, is repulsive.

Day 29:

His character sits with a can of soup in front of his plasma screen TV. His mood has improved from the expensive item's picture quality, but his social meter still glows yellow. In a gorgeous house with the best things, he is lonely. Pegasus sips his wine again, feeling a strange, empty weight in his gut. Once more he thinks, get used to it.

Day 32:

The sim is halfway through adulthood, already pining for something called "life fruit." Pegasus has cheated enough with wealth; he shudders to think what abomination the strange food will bring, if he can discover it. He sighs and takes the character through another day of meaningless existence. He has accomplished little in the way of family, work, or community involvement. Otogi-boy was wrong; this is an elaborate waste of time.

Day 33:

He has decided to play one more day, when he opens the game it is mid-afternoon and his character is hungry. Though the man has managed to gain five or so cooking points from burning several less-than-successful meals, Pegasus decides he should order pizza. The menu for services is longer than he expected, and as he begins to scan it for pizza delivery, comes across a very interesting option. In blue writing, at the top of the list, is "adopt a child." He pauses, joy leaping into his stomach for the sake of his virtual plaything. But Pegasus remembers that he is halfway through adulthood…he's too old to adopt children; it would be selfish to do so this late in life, wouldn't it? The cursor hovers over the button. He realizes that, for all of his efforts and devotion to this stupid character, he has never been happy. He is getting older, Pegasus decides, but he is not dead yet.

Day 34:

He has adopted an adorable, exotic looking little boy named Hiro. His character surprises the child with one of many rooms full of toys, but Hiro approaches with some sort of interaction. Pegasus clicks to tear his character away from the computer game he is playing, and the child hugs him. Both of their moods improve, and in his desk chair, Pegasus smiles. A phone call interrupts his silly grinning, and he is greeted by a familiar voice as the game saves.

"Hello?" He sings into the receiver.

"Hello, it's Otogi."

"Don't be so gauche, I know who you are." He chides playfully.

He can practically hear the other man blush as he stammers into the phone, "How do you like the game so far? Have you had a chance to test it?"

Pegasus allows his gaze to travel back to the laptop screen, "Yes." He replies, "It's very interesting."

For a few minutes, he allows Otogi to inflate his ego with indirect notions of "I told you so" laced with less-than-subtle flattery that asserts the same thing, "I'm glad you like it, when I started playing I thought of you right away."

Through the continuing monologue, Pegasus double checks that his progress has been kept, and clicks to quit the game, "As always, you're too kind." He assures his protégé hyperbolically, and when at last the man is pulled off his phone line by another caller, Pegasus frees both hands to dig a pamphlet out of his desk drawer.

Regarding it for a long moment, he turns back to the laptop showing his desktop wallpaper, and closes it. He remembers his character, finally content, and the child, excited for a loving home and upcoming first day of school. Clutching the brochure in his fingers, he rises from his desk and heads off to arrange a meeting.

Characters are not the only things that deserve a happy life.


Will You Be Mine? Adoption & You


Written in about half an hour, all feedback is welcome.