Disclaimer: I don't own Yu–Gi–Oh!, and I definitely don't own the Gameboy game, 'Yu–Gi–Oh: The Sacred Cards'.

This was written in part as a tribute to the terrifyingly dull spectacle that was the game 'Yu–Gi–Oh: The Sacred Cards', in part as an art trade with TheGaboEffects over on dA, and in part as one enormous 'TAKE THAT!' at Yu–Gi–Oh Mary Sues. I'll be playing the game whilst writing this fic – but you don't need to have to have played it at all to laugh at the sheer stupidity of the whole thing.

Warnings: Obviously has an OC in it, and aforesaid OC is… well, they try to be the horrible Sue they were in the games. I'll give them points for that, they do try and stay in character. But they fail miserably (fortunately for the readers, I believe), because they get ignored. The reason for this is that there was always a sense in the game that you were just kind of playing through all these dumb battles that didn't matter, grinding for no real reason, and that anything exciting was always happening to someone else.

Probably a good idea to warn you: The fourth wall is annihilated.

Feedback: Spooner likes reviews. She likes concrit especially, but feedback in general is quite appreciated. It lets her know that people actually read her crackfics - just careful if you do decide to drop her a kind word, seeing as she's awfully talkative...

About Notes: If you see a (1), you'll find that the corresponding '1.' at the bottom of the fic will contain a note. Usually, these will be explanations for things such as (but not limited to) in–game plot holes, character naming, dueling rules that are rather different to the actual game rules and/or the manga rules, oddly OOC character dialogue, and 'frustrating game incidents' (the game does not signpost its intentions very well, so these occur frequently – I spent hours in some sections getting annoyed because I didn't know what to do next, and pretty much trying everything to get to the next level.).

Without further ado…


Scarced Kardz, Chapter One: HERRO ENTREES

WHAT IS YOUR NAME?

"PCICL!" (1) , the bundle of pixels bawls back at the underlined text. Thisbeing, if one can call underlined text a being, has been irritating it for the first thirty seconds of its admittedly short life.

ARE YOU SURE?

"Yes!" A pause. "You're gonna ask me if I'm a boy or a girl next, aren't y–"

BING!

The pixels find themselves abruptly rearranged, now taking the form of a boy with black hair that falls to the centre of his back. He's wearing a baseball cap composed of a shade of orange that hurts the retinas, bright blue jeans that clasp rather tightly around his legs (and for whatever strange reason, don't have a zip, buttons, or any conceivable way to get them off), two sky blue spheres on his feet that he assumes to be his shoes, and a horribly orange... let's not jump to conclusions about that item of fashion.

'Straitjacket' is such a nasty word.

Moving along, and it should be pretty obvious by now: This guy is a blatant Mokuba ripoff. It's almost as if whoever shoved those pixels into that form decided to find out why exactly the CEO's brother never did wear a hideous cap - or a bright orange... jacket... for that matter. And now they've found out, and for some reason unfathomable, decided to keep the abomination. Never mind what the higher ups have to say about this.

Needless to say, the boss wasn't exactly impressed when he found out what the programmer had done. There's of course a reason that 'Character Name' never did get his own fanart - beyond all the other problems 'Character Name' has. Like his terribly godly powers of Plot Protection, which we'll probably get along to sometime during the next chapter. Or the fact that he literally has no intelligence, yet somehow hasn't blown up the world as we know it yet. Or- but I'm getting ahead of myself.

At any rate, PCICL looks around at his surroundings in some annoyance – he's in a bedroom that he automatically assumes to be his, because that's how it always is. There's some voice whispering at the inside of his brain, telling him all about his life, and his friends, but he refuses to listen to any of that meaningless jabber (or, indeed, the repeated commands to 'take Kaiba's pants'). After all, he's a bunch of pixels - he doesn't have a life.

This is exactly why self-inserts are never a good idea; because if this PCICL guy happened to be you, which he thankfully isn't, you'd have no life. Cue the rather tuneful noises of Gameboys everywhere being introduced to the wonders of the abyss, the rubbish truck, or perhaps the abyss that lies within the rubbish truck; you get the picture.

And, as though to add insult to injury...

"I-I'm not a guy!"

Yes, PCICL. We hear your pain, even though you're only a bunch of pixels and definitely not a self-insert.

I think we can all agree here: With such a cast of bishies as Yu-Gi-Oh! has, limited gender options definitely su-

CRASH!

No, that's not the sound of the game crashing, much as many players by this stage are probably hoping it will. The idea of a game 'crashing' is in itself a misnomer; a dead cartridge generally emits a small, dull whine in the moments before its death. Even a CD, butchered under the saw-blade of the malfunctioning CD player, will at best produce a noise somewhat similar to the first note a two-year-old maestro-to-be will ever produce on their one sixty-fourth violin. Indeed, the only true way a game may crash is of course for one to load it upon some high - speed vehicle (preferably driven by a drunkard, a kamikaze pilot who'd like another go, or by the individual known as 'Yami Marik'), and then have it steered directly towards a large rock, a building, a mountain, or ultimately the ground... but I digress.

The point is that the CRASH! sound is not formed by the 'crashing' of the game, but instead by the door in PCICL's room. Of course, an inanimate object does not simply decide to make such a noise - the decision to do so is caused by the teenagers on the other side quite casually strolling through the wood, leaving two non–player character – shaped holes in their wake as they calmly defy all laws of physics.

PCICL, most coolly and logically, jumps six foot in the air and lets loose with a girly scream. "AIEEE!"

...Come now, it's not like the situation was making any sense. Why, then, should PCICL's reaction to something as senseless as this be at all sensible?

Is your head done in yet?

Don't worry, it gets worse from here.

"The Battle City Tournament is on today, PCICL!" A plastic smile accompanies narrowed eyes on the blonde; really not a good expression, especially not for a fixed one. Sure, the result certainly looks as though ripped from the front cover of a certain manga volume (and likely has), but the thing is, people's expressions change with what they say - yes, even in an anime. Maybe it's a rather sporadic occurrence, but they do alter. The major problem with this... thing... is that no matter what he's saying, that look gives PCICL (or indeed, any person with a brain cell) the impression that he's quietly plotting a murder, and will likely execute this cunning plan at some point in the next six seconds. What is perhaps even more disturbing is the way that the as–yet–unnamed teenager stays perfectly still as he speaks – no hand gestures, no awkward foot shifting as he should probably be doing considering the circumstances, nothing. PCICL waves a hand a few times in front of his nose, but he doesn't even blink; just continues to recite his line, eyes unnerving.

The voice in the pixel's head tells him that this is Joey, and that he is PCICL's friend, his friend, his friend; but the boy blatantly ignores it. No way would he ever be friends with someone as lifeless as this. In fact, he even decides to call this 'Joey' character an it.

However, for the sake of convenience, we'll be calling Joey, well... 'Joey'.

Wow, what a terrible way to give a character's nam- I mean, what a surprise. Who would have thought that Joey was really Joey? Didn't you think that, just for a moment, he might have been Joey and not actually Joey? Or maybe Joey and not Joey or Joey?

...Never mind.

As soon as the zombie has finished, there is a slight pause; then, a gentle bip, and his companion (tricolored hair and larger–than–should–be–legal pink eyes) looks directly over PCICL's head. If anything, this one looks even more brain-dead than the first; PCICL squints, the player probably squints as well, but neither find any sign of life in that frozen pose. He looks as though sculpted from plastic - his hair doesn't even move in the cold air swishing through the hole behind him. (2)

"Good morning, PCICL. Have you made your deck?"

His jaw doesn't even move with his syllables, impossible as that may sound - yet another logic - defying mistake in the general mistake that is - well, whatever the heck this is. It's best not to think about it; think too long, and your brain will probably shut down from the mental overload.

The head-voice growls softly in PCICL's ear, muttering that this is Yugi, and PCICL's friend too; but the pixel bundle again remains oblivious to it. For the sake of convenience, we aren't going to do that.
We're just going to call Yugi 'Yugi'.

Creative, I know. But think, it's slightly more creative than this story's plot!

Bip.

"Hey, my deck is something special." Yes, you can even hear the full stop in that – the blonde clearly shows little enthusiasm in his 'deck', whatever a 'deck' is. PCICL flounders a few seconds, then goes to try and get the guy's attent–

Bip.

But he takes a second too long to recover; Joey's gone back on the offensive in a heartbeat (or is it heartbeep?), and there's not much PCICL can really do about it. "It took me all night, but it's the best ever. PCICL, did you put together a good deck?"

The boy stiffens, though that's obviously nothing compared to the statues that are apparently his 'friends' right now. "Wait. Are you actually asking me a que–"

Bip.

"Huh? Are you kidding me? Better get it together."

Now's probably not the best of times to note that even Joey's voice seems robotic - almost how that 'Microsoft Sam' thing says whatever you typed in. Really, the only difference is that Joey doesn't say the offensive things you probably liked to type into that bar when you were six. He's not funny, just monotonous.

"There's still time. Make it stronger as you battle," Yugi agrees, his words carrying a note of 'happy', despite his face still wearing a 'I'm determined to tear your head off' sort of look, and his voice carrying enough emotion to bore the horns off a dragon; a difficult task, because the dragon doesn't even exist in the first place.

...Yeah, it's not very encouraging.

"Um–"

Bip.

"Okay, let's get going. Don't want to be late."

With that final word from Joey, the duo both turn (at exactly the same time, how is that even possible?) and go back the way they came (whichever way that was), leaving the bundle of pixels utterly alone. He sighs, looking around at his surroundings; they're pretty crammed. To be honest, the only interesting thing in the room is a laptop screen, blinking dully in a corner...

LAAAAAPTOP!

Oh, sweet laptop, thy gorgeous screen aglow with fangirl's fantasy! Please, honor us all with pictures to burn our retinas and sweetly sicken our minds! Indulge us in paintings of somewhat questionable nature! We bow before you in our darkened bedrooms; and now, make this fic somewhat tolerable with thy blessing: Hot bishie on bishie action!

...You forget, this is a Spooner story.

And also, this game destroys 'bishies' from the inside out.

At any rate, accessing the device in the hope of finding images of a questionable nature doesn't work; every time PCICL attempts to do so, he finds himself sitting on the bed, understandably disorientated. Evidently, the only option for him is to flip his homework table upside down, do as the head-voice is repeatedly telling him to, and walk out the d–


"…Eh?"

PCICL quite literally just walked out the door, and found himself mysteriously teleported into the middle of the road, and, even more improbably, slap bang in the middle of a crowd, standing just behind Joey and Yugi. Naturally, his two plastic zombie companions don't notice this wonderful defiance of elementary physics; they just stand in front of him, perfectly still.

Bip.

The blonde's jaw moves, though of course no other part of him does. "Hey, look at that. Everyone's here already. Heh, look at all the tough duelists." Looking around at the other members of the brain–dead crowd, PCICL suppresses the urge to shudder; he's here for a reason, he knows that much, and he can't run until he knows exactly what's going on here. Besides, he has a strange feeling that even if he wanted to, he'd be unable to run at this point…

Bip.

"FELLOW DUELISTS, WELCOME TO BATTLE CITY!" The brunette has quite randomly appeared in the middle of the road, for absolutely no logical reason that PCICL can fathom. Much like the two weirdos flanking the boy, he too holds his challenging expression absolutely rigid; it's set in the sort of look a top-notch assassin might give their victim right before the kill, when they look down upon his prey and think something along the lines of 'Gotcha'.

In other words, the sort of look every little fangirl interprets as 'Sexy'.

"Let me explain the Tournament rules," he begins, and PCICL hears the blonde in front of him distinctly mumble a mutinous response.

"How about not?"

Odd; his hair now seems to ripple in the breeze, shoulders rising and falling as he breathes, in and out, in and out. His voice grumbles, it's got emotion to it.

Impossible as it sounds, he's alive.

Alive, in a crowd of computer generated zombies.


Bip.

"The Tournament takes place throughout Domino City," the brunette's saying, but PCICL's no longer interested in that, or any of the following long speech. (3) The idea that the guy in front of him might actually be human is far more likeable.

Tentatively, the little bundle of pixels taps the thug's shoulder, presuming that if the blonde happens to be brain-dead idiot, he won't react. "Erm, did you say something?"

To his infinite surprise and joy, the blonde actually looks over his shoulder, face making real human expressions as he speaks; for instance, a wry smile pulls at the corners of his lips. "Yeah, I did. Name's Joey, pleased to meet ya." A head tilt towards the kid with the tri–colour hair. "And that's Yugi. When he's being normal, he's a nice guy."

Bip. The beep sounds in the background every so often as the brunette rattles on and on, but neither of them pay much notice to it.

"So, what was going on in my bedroom?"

A pause, then a frown. "Not sure. What was going on in your bedroom?"

Any idiot can see that Joey's lying, he's got such an honest face that it's obvious, but PCICL is... well, not very good at emotions. Before the bundle of pixels can explain, the blonde gives a curt nod in the brunette's general direction; "See that guy? That's Kaiba. Trust me, when he's behaving normally, he's much more of a douche." A grin. "Maaaan, he's going to be furious that The Controller's making him say things like that."

"What Controller?", PCICL blinks, sensing a possible new plot to go and be a Sue for.

Joey's grin fades by about ten watts; "Did I say 'Controller'? What Controller?"

"Yeah, that's what I asked."

"Gee, maybe we should go and find out."

An awkward silence follows, made even more awkward by Kaiba randomly bawling out his final line.

"Now fellow duelists... Scatter throughout Battle City!"

The brunette's gone as quickly as he came, stalking off in the opposite direction to KaibaCorp for no good reason, and Yugi turns robotically on the spot, staring at a point above PCICL's head. "It's…"

Bip.

Joey stiffens, expression going all axe–murderer again. "Yeah, you bet. Even us, we're rivals from now on. Try to hang in to the end, Yugi and PCICL."

Bip, goes the beep thing; and the blonde twitches a second.

"Hey, don't be so down on yourself, PCICL. Buck up and get it together."

Bip.

Yugi continues to stare at PCICL's ridiculously sized hat, his gaze fixed and unblinking. "Yeah, let's go for it, PCICL. Once you've collected all the cards, let's meet up. We should get together at my Grandpa's toy shop."

Bip.

"Yeah, okay, we'll do that. All right, I'm off. Both of you, don't lose until the finals. See you!"

And just like that, Joey is gone, Yugi standing stiff against the retaining wall. PCICL knows that there must be something he's supposed to do; in his simple world, there's always an objective, a plot.

And yet...

And yet, no–one will duel for now; they stare into space, blandly repeating six-syllable lines. They all say that the duels will start at nine o'clock; but the clock at the fountain is stopped at one minute to nine. With no conceivable way to bring time forwards (vandalizing is obviously out of the question when the hands are painted on the clock), it looks like the little bundle of pixels is stuck. (4)

Stuck, in a really, really dumb place, with really dumb people and a really dumb card game. Of course, it should be obvious from the adjective usage that neither of the latter are as dumb as the dumb that is the place, all two hundred stupid crammed up two hundred metres of a suburb he doesn't care about anyway, a place with too many loading scr- I mean, random blackouts.

RAGE.


Notes:

1. 'PCICL' in this case stands for "Print Clearly In Capital Letters", the name I give to the lead character in any roleplaying game.

2. The descriptions here are not exaggerated; they are the actual character poses and expressions seen in the game. The dialogue is also ripped straight from the game – as a general rule, the majority of characters look better when they aren't talking.

3. Kaiba's long speech in full is hilariously OOC: "Let me explain the Tournament rules. The Tournament takes place throughout Domino City. Wherever duelists meet in the city... That shall be where the duels take place. Duelists may play using only their own decks. The loser must turn over one rare card to the victor. Eight winning duelists will enter the final round. The final stage is hidden somewhere in town. Each of you duelists has received a locator card. You must defeat others and get their locator cards. When you have gathered six locator cards... You will have the map to the final duel stage. You may duel with those puzzle cards at stake. In other words, only those who win duels... And obtain the six locator cards will earn the right to get up on stage for the finals. The Tournament commences at nine a.m. sharp. Now fellow duelists... Scatter throughout Battle City!"

Much as I'd like to say that I was just joking about that being in the game, I'm not.

4. This is the first of the Frustrating Game Incidents: Right at the start, you get stuck here. You don't know what you're meant to do, or where you're meant to go - in the end, you just sort of bumble around and hope for the best. If you can tell me how you get past this stage in the game, you get a cookie for remembering the details of a game this old.