(A/N- sorry if 'C0rrupt3d' is actually someone's online name! Random note, I know; it'll make sense soon enough…

I'm aware this isn't entirely about Animal Crossing, but of all the categories on this website, this best fit the mark. I don't think it's everyday that someone posts a Wii-based fanfic... :p)

WARNING: MILD (EPIC :D) LANGUAGE

It is Sunday the 15th of June, 2014, and I never thought I'd live to see it. Never hoped to, either. Not literally, I mean, if any sadistic thug is listening to me. I mean, I was just hoping against hope that I could have escaped the trauma that I know today will bring, and I know it'll come because I deserve it. And doesn't my son know it.

Let me explain. My name's Mark Heriot, single parent of one Peter Heriot. Or 'Missingno', as he likes to be called. I never really held him down long enough to properly explain why he'd insist upon such a queer name, but he had at least told me that it's something from one of his old games. Apparently the two are much alike.

His life almost entirely depends on video games. The first game he'd ever played was Kirby, and I remember that distinctly because Kirby sucks things up. And I made up a metaphor from it- games have swallowed up my son. So, I should nip this 'problem' in the bud, if it's so bad, right? Except, his face when he's deprived of them. Just, his face... I could as well be chopping off his arm if- and I never, never wish to go beyond 'if' again in my life- I prohibit them. It's the confusion and hatred of a bull being slaughtered, the indifference of the butcher, all in one. But it's not just that which unnerves me.

You've already heard that I'm a lone parent. If my wife, Zoe, was still alive, perhaps I could be working longer hours today and pull together a heftier bank account. Who knows, maybe she'd have contributed too, a bit of part-time work at the local restaurant or something.

If my wife was still alive. But she isn't, and my ability to love another died with her. Add in the fact that my career as a cashier isn't exactly the goldmine of the world, and you make for a very poor household. Not that it made a difference to Missingno when he wanted a game...

I said my son's expression wasn't the only thing that disturbed me. One day, back from the norms of the workplace, my nostrils caught straight away the smell of smoke pervading my house. I was tired, so the aroma made me relax there in the hallway. The smell of cooking always massages the hungry man.

And then I realised that my son didn't know how to cook. And the smoke wasn't coming from the kitchen. I wasn't thinking about food any more, I was thinking of my son. My tired legs jolted back into action, heaving me upstairs to save my son from whatever disaster he'd unleashed while I'd been delayed in traffic. Instead I saw him in my room, a blank stare plastered on his face. The panic was over. So was my room. He'd torched it. Everything inside, all the possessions in my bedroom- trust me, I'd items in there worth more than sentimental value, much more- including the thousands of pounds kept in my personal safe. And my last photo of my wife. I was breathing in my history, the remnants of a lost era.

I still don't understand how such damage could ever have been done. For one, the safe and my door were very well-sealed: two combinations needed for the safe, in fact. I know nothing was left unlocked, and I think my son remembers that just as well.

I also couldn't comprehend how he'd manage to burn up my room and my room alone, considering there's no lighters in my house- smoke-free, thank you- and Missingno doesn't have any friends, even minor ones, to give him one.

He could only say, "I didn't use a lighter." But never what he did use. I'm not sure I want to find out.

That was the first and only time I banned him from his games. He was 5 years old.

D'you ever get fed up with those generic weather questions? 'How's the weather? Soaking as usual? Good old Britain!' In our house, it's 'do you wanna watch? Do you wanna play?' Talk to my son about anything else, and the shutters fall. Some would say he'd die without his video games. Others would bellow he's dead already, and what life is it when a little boy can't properly socialise about things other than Blue-Shell defeats?

But I'm a kind dad. I'm a liberal dad, and most importantly, I'm a frightened dad. A frightened dad that does not want to face my child's rage. Fair enough, I'll admit I enjoy earning a strike on the ol' bowling, seeing the spark of life enter my son's pale face when he stabs some odd bearded man in a field (in the game, of course!), anything that keeps my son happy.

Well, almost anything.

Yesterday, things seemed as normal as they could ever be. My free time was spent counting up my notes and finding that I could only afford games for my son, no leisure for myself. My son finished his most recent Wii game, 'Little King's Stage' or something. Hard to keep track anymore, he ploughs through them like an arrow through the wind. He doesn't sleep so much anymore, instead driving poor Peach into the stadium wall over and over again. Doesn't make sense to me, but depression never does. Yes, he's not the most social 15 year old of the year, but still, I've that fatherly instinct.

Ever since Nintendo Wi-Fi closed on May 20 this year, he's been more withdrawn than ever. It wouldn't be so bad if I could afford to get him a Wii U or 3DS... Not Xbox or Playstation, mind you; he's been a 'Nintendo Kid' from the off. Nowadays, I never see him eating or drinking, not even those rubbish everyday value sheets the packets call 'crisps'. I assumed at first he'd just hidden an infinite supply of snacks in his bedroom which he gorged upon when my back was turned, but that wouldn't make sense. Dark as his room may be, I can tell in a glance there's no food stains or any sign of waste in there. Just a wasted life, is all. No sign of extra food being scooped out of the cupboards, either. I was wondering all this as he played, when he spoke.

"Mario Party 9."

I knew enough about his quirks by now to recognise that was a request, not a statement- 'give me Mario Party 9'. Which I'd do; haven't I been doing this for years now? But this time, I felt a bit rebellious. It's Father's Day. I'm a good father. Aren't I? And a day for this father would be good, the other 364 being snatched away by my son...

"Of course, Peter-"

He growled. He never liked that name.

"Yes, Missingno, I'll get that one for you. A Wii one, isn't it?"

He nodded. Conversation concluded.

Except I pushed it.

"You know, it's Father's Day tomorrow..." I shuffled my feet. "I don't suppose you have a... father, eh?"

Apparently not. Too busy charging energy shots for some large armoured bird or something.

But I persevered. "It's just that, y'know, it'd be nice if you treated me once in a while..."

Now he did turn around. But all of a sudden, I wish he hadn't. I could see the bull again.

"You're not my father. I know my father. 'C0rrupt3d.'" 'C0rrupt3d' being my son's online companion and teacher in many games. Missingno once boasted to me that nobody will knock him out of the ring, now that C0rrupt3d had taught him how to D.A.C.U.S., whatever that means. Pretty much, all those 'father and son moments' that may come to mind? That was with my son and his buddy, all in the world of online. I never got to teach him how to ride a bike; he didn't want to leave his friend in kart racing.

But of course, that was online. The day Nintendo Wi-Fi closed, to my son, C0rrupt3d had died.

"Son, I have bought you all these games, all these consoles, everything in this room and the room itself. I've played with you, I've watched you play, I've let you tire your life away with your silly games that you worship. What am I, if not your dad?"

The reply was instantaneous. "Who cares?"

Like I said before, I'm a kind dad. I'm a liberal dad. 'Mr Nice Guy', that type of dad you only ever dream of, if I'm not being modest. And I gave up being modest right then. Because now I was a pissed-off dad, and a pissed-off dad alone.

"You stupid addict!" I yelled. "Who cares? Who cares about YOU? What's so important about earning all your flipping 'Shite Coins'-"the first time I ever swore around him "-and 'Power Shites'-" the second "-that you can't be arsed to talk to the man who, singlehandedly, reared you up from the little child you were, to the even littler child you turned out to be?"

No response. That provoked me even further again.

"You know what? Balls to your games! Here's my game-" I yanked out the plugs for his Wii and old Bush TV, noting with satisfaction that this time a nerve in him had been hit. "-and what you need to do, 'Jumpman', you need to quit it with the jumping and do some studying for once in your life! Here, and at school- I know about that Game Boy you've hidden in that fake history book, don't deny it. Consider it confiscated!"

I felt amazing. Here I was, pounding away at the meekness I've always given my nuisance of a son. Years of tolerance, years of no progress, and I just walloped him with the biggest punishment his undeveloped mind could ever think of. I felt on top of the world, if I may use the cliche.

I was braced to defend myself, though. I knew my son could fight back. He probably would, too. We resist undesirable change, to the point where we lash out at those who enforce it. That should have been the only thing on his mind, I believed, as he dragged himself over to me. It's strange, I never noticed till then just how oddly he moved. Nor how dark his eyes were, either. Like molten rock. Weren't they meant to be light blue? Had I forgotten something?

You'll forget everything

He whispered in my ear, as calm as I never expected him to be.

"Goodbye."

He turned and faced the wall, though I hadn't asked for it. All he could see was the worn-away wallpaper.

And so much more

Fear leads to anger, so I hear. But too much fear can purge the fiercest anger. I know, because I didn't say any more. No more questions, no more demands, nothing like that. I just took away the Wii, all his other gizmos, and locked them in my closet. If he defied my locks again, well, it wouldn't just be my patience that will break.

Don't you know it

That night, lying in my full size bed, my son's response was rolling over in my mind.

'Goodbye.'

Goodbye

Sounded sorta unimpressive to me, now that I could think rationally about what just happened. Maybe he'd meant, 'goodbye, I'm off to play Super Smash Brothers elsewhere.' But that'd be stupid. Who else would pay for his gaming doses, huh? Not like he can get to the items I'd locked up, he wouldn't dare. Yep, he ain't leaving anytime soon.

That's right

Only seconds before I went to sleep, did I realise he wasn't talking about himself. It was cold that night. That feeling I always get when someone I know has died.

Like you

Sunday. I woke up with a heavy cough, like my soul was trying to evacuate a bombsite. I did it deliberately, in fear that somehow Missingno had made me swallow poison or something through my snoring mouth. It's sad that I can suspect this from a boy that I once cuddled in my arms… My body feels fine, I realise- panic averted. For this room, at least. I glance at the closet where all my son's gaming stuff had been- and hopefully still was- locked up. Yep, no sign of it having been touched since I shut it. Nothing could have got out.

O rly

I check in on my son's pigsty straight away, not even bothering to change out of my green jim jams. There was no sight of him. Clearly he'd went to bed last night for once, seeing that the bed sheets were ruffled up like he had gotten underneath and out of them. So it's strange that he's not here right now. Normally I have to rush him downstairs for some breakfast, with him kicking and screaming each step down. Well, I did just remove his favourite hobby- no, his life- from him. Melancholia makes you hungry, I understand,

I am hungry too

so he probably went down early for some food.

Still neglecting to change my clothes- it's Father's Day, for Lord's sake, let a man prance around his own house in his pyjamas if he wants!- I silently moved on down to the kitchen. Again, no sign of life. The floors were spotless, the bowls untouched. No empty crisp packets lying around, or crumbs in the sink.

"Son?" I shouted. "Where are you?"

I am in your head

I waited, but there was no sound whatsoever. Oddly enough, at 8:37 in the morning there was no chirps from the birds outside, and their silence made me realise how valued they were in my heart for their song. The song they always greeted me with each morning, but not today.

They don't greet the dead

I'm anxious enough by this point, but I don't want to give up just yet. Instead, I look to the living room

Not anymore

in case Missingno was lying on the sofa, the sleep overcoming him at last. No, nobody here either. Now I see why he said farewell last night- he was actually going himself. He must have went to bed last night, the energy of his games ripped from him, and decided this morning to vamoose. Yes, he'd left all his possessions- and his father, I thought sadly- behind, but he'd probably believe he could replenish it all somewhere else. Some other feckless house, one that took the poor soul in and catered for his needs as they could. I should be overwhelmed with grief. Crying out at the injustice that on Father's Day, I should cease to be

alive

a father, but I'm okay. I'm… neutral. Pros and cons, pros and cons. Got rid of the nuisance. Got rid of my flesh and blood. Less money spent on games. Less time sharing someone's company.

You can have mine if you don't want

In my childhood, I used to endure the misery bullies put me through by just standing alone for a moment. I simply deny my emotions for that time, just trying to reason out why I shouldn't cry or care. Even one reason not to outweighs a million reasons to break down- ∞ is more than 1,000,000. I can rely on maths, maybe not so much my teacher. But it does the job. Ten seconds later, I'm fine. Down about my son leaving? ∞ is more than 1,000,000. No problem. I'll move on, I'll be happily independent, and I turn

and he turns

to see the Wii.

to see me

I froze. This couldn't be right… My son hadn't even touched the closet, I'm sure of it! I would have heard him coming in, there would be some sign or something. This shouldn't be here.

You shouldn't be here

Yet here it was, perched on the table next to my silver TV. The plugs and all were put where they were needed, so it wasn't just dropped off here and forgotten. But he knew I would see this eventually, of course I would. So… was this a message? Some sort of 'f u, m8, I got teh moves'? But why?

Turn me on

I turned it on. Not sure why. It felt right. It felt wrong. No. I didn't want to, but I… needed to?

I'm coming

After I pressed the A button on the remote with a nunchuk that was sitting on the console, the Wii menu appeared. It looked red, though. I've seen this menu enough times, I know it should be clean white. I gave the television more time to adjust, but if anything, the red became more prominent. And then there was the sound. If you have the volume on fairly high and spend a second at least on the menu, then you hear this little theme. Hard to describe, but to me it always sounded like you were travelling in the realm of technology and space. It irked me to see Missingno just zoom through it without hesitation, which he always did.

I was listening out for this music, trying to at least, but nothing came out. I turned the volume up, ensured everything was plugged in properly, but still no music. Must be the TV, I thought. Have to get a newer model some time, maybe a flatscreen once I get enough notes in.

Something struck me about the box for the Mii Channel. I couldn't say what it was, but it didn't look right. Pointing my Wii remote at the screen, I clicked on it and was greeted with the main opening screen for it. When you do this, you are presented with a congregation of Miis- virtual characters that you can make look like yourself or other people- facing different directions and bearing different expressions.

This time, they were all looking at the screen. At me. All were smiling. But none a pleasant one.

...duh! I thought. He's changed the time on the Wii! I thought. This must be what happens when you open up the Wii on Halloween or something. Very creepy. Top marks, Nintendo. Yeah, it must be a little festive spirit. What else?

Myself

I go along with the joke now. I click on 'Start', may as well see what else this has to offer. I'm introduced to the Mii Plaza, where the likes of Chuck Norris and Adolf Hitler have friendly chats and do little dances. I see Hitler; I see Mario and Shadow too. In fact, I see them all. Because they've all gathered round in some sort of group circle, all staring up at the screen. They didn't seem ready to disperse, though normally they potter off within moments of starting. There was something going on in the centre of the circle, however. I could see my own Mii, staring up like all the others, but his eyes were different. Sad. He normally has a smile on him, a little meek one that I chose as my best side. Now it was a frown, just as meek but unsettling nonetheless.

There was someone behind him. My son. He had a smirk instead, and it was bigger than I thought you could customise it to. His arm was out towards me, like he was putting something in my back. Something my Mii didn't like. I try to grab the Mii and see what it was, but it wouldn't budge. None of them would. Even blowing the whistle did no good, they were as responsive as zombies. All I could do was watch my trapped little Mii, with something thrust in his back.

On the left side of the screen, an option pops up- 'Edit Mii'. I suppose I'll try that. A new screen pops up, the customisation screen. My Mii is there, the same sad face on him. He doesn't appear to be moving. I check out what changes have been made, but find that I can't actually EDIT anything. I take a gander at what options have been taken.

There aren't any.

There was no way to change the height, the name, the weight, anything. Everything had to stay as it was- I couldn't make my Mii happy again. There was nothing for it, I decided. I'd just have to end this feature and get back to the Wii Menu. Home button, 'Wii Menu', yes.

For a split second, while Mii Channel was dissipating away till the next time, I noticed another difference. My Mii's birthday read 15/06/14. And it wasn't next to the word 'birthday'. It was 'final day'.

Back on the Wii Menu now, I still haven't been freed from the expression on my Mii's face. It's even worse- every box on screen just shows his head, facing me. The Wii Menu screen is red again, but even more so around the boxes.

I'm not an idiot, I could add up the pieces. This isn't a Nintendo Halloween, this was a hack. Missingno had one before to make Mario look like a skeleton, and this was just the same. Trying to frighten me, eh? Well, it won't work!

It already has

I moved my cursor hand to the 'Wii' circle on the bottom left, selected it.

It selected you

Opened up the options, selected 'Data Management'. The save data of all the games my son still has floating in the console- long story short, that's a lot- were all in working order. There was nothing different at all, actually. Mario in a kart, the Smash Bros. symbol, everything looked just as they always had.

Except for a new one. Scrolling to the very last page, on its own, was a picture of a skull. When I say skull, I don't mean those cartoony skulls you bop off Dry Bones or those lousy 'trick or treat' baskets the kids stuff their sweets in. No, this one was quite real. Exactly what In thought and feared skulls look like. Would you like to guess what it was facing?

I garnered together the courage to actually open this data to see what it was meant to be. Animal Crossing. My Animal Crossing. This one, the only game that I found to be warped in any such way. And it was my Animal Crossing.

When I manage to find free time for myself on the Wii, you see, with Missingno fighting Primal Dialga (whatever that was) on the DS, I pop in my Animal Crossing: City Folk neighbourhood, and get round to planting some trees and being stung by bees (inevitably). To say my son hit a soft spot is an understatement: hand on heart, some of my villagers brought more joy to my life than my son ever had. What had he done..?

I hated to do this. I truly did, but I had to look. Even if I could only see the irreparable damage he'd done to my hard work, I just had to look. I pressed the A button to close down the menu, but all it did was lead up to a dead whirring noise. The sound of the Wii crashing. There was no choice but to shut it down, but I was resolute. I was going back.

Back to me

Wii powered on once more, I met the rows of my mournful Mii heads, just as forlorn as before. Hold on. More so. I've missed something. I peer closer, and jump back instead in shock.

It wasn't just me missing something, it was my Mii too. Missing an eye.

That wasn't possible. There was no ability to choose how many eyes your Mii had- I should know, I tried and failed to make Davros with three eyes a year ago. So… a hack again? It must have been. Even if I couldn't get my head around- no pun intended- the idea that my son, Missingno, would have planned and programmed all this out, what else could it be?

Would you like to know?

There was one channel box that deviated from the others: it had the same skull image and red background that I saw represented Animal Crossing before. I wasted no time starting up the game, but the thump-thump of my heart bursting in my chest refused to rest. The title screen popped up, and for once I was pleasantly surprised. My village was still standing! Everything was firmly rooted in the ground, every detail as I recall it. The same trees! The same houses! The same weeds… Oh, well… I let my guard down by then; evidently Missingno did nothing more radical than mess up the channel's menu display, and that was good enough for me. Alfonso walked alongside Baabara as I progressed along to the next menu, where Rover was waiting for me.

The screen faded to black, and Rover (the blue, anthropomorphic cat) is standing patiently before me like always. Too patiently.

He wasn't moving. My son hadn't finished yet.

Rover's text boxes came and went- all empty of course, save for the '...''s that filled the space where my friend would once say the time and the day, where he would never say it again. Abruptly the options came up, and, naturally, I chose to play as 'Mark'. And I waited.

Mark bolted out of his full-size house and greeted the day with a smile. He stood in death.

If you've ever played Animal Crossing, you may know that you wear out the grass by running too much on it. There was no longer any grass. And I never run. Plain soil surrounded me, dirty and lifeless. I moved my character, oh so gently, through the wreck of my 'village', Hoenn. I couldn't bear to go any faster.

All of the trees had vanished into the ether, simple holes filling the spot where they once lived. The flowers survived… wilted. The desolation of the cloudy skies would hardly help with that. No bugs crawling around or fish in the rivers. Plenty of boots and tyres, on the other hand. Where residents once slept and stayed with their unbearable colds, they wouldn't no more. Boone's television played static while the record players sang out the soundless tune of the world. I could go in and move about, but only the furniture could be found. Nobody else outside.

I tried the shops, too. Tom Nook's store had vanished, simply put, while rocks encircled the Able Sisters and Town Hall, dashing to pieces any hope I had of seeing someone here aside from myself. Mark was still smiling.

Having clarified the damage- oh, who am I kidding?- the destruction, of my treasured village, I checked the bus stop in case I could go to the main city. I couldn't. I wasn't surprised any more, nothing Missingno did would shock me now.

Are you sure?

I caught sight of something to my right… a colour that didn't begin with 'b'. My character walked over, showing me the patterns of grass that had been spared. Red grass, of course… It was arranged to form letters, I realised. I pronounced each one as the camera shifted over to them.

"G. O. O. D. B. Y. E."

A full stop was there at the end, shown with a crack in the ground. It was the only crack I could find. Not sure what was kept underneath, I took out my golden shovel and approached it. I could see Mark pushing the shovel into the soil with one deft movement, and he kept it there. The Wii had frozen yet again, but for once I was glad.

I didn't want to know what I had dug up.

The familiar, now angry hum of the Wii pervaded the room. I blinked, twice. Had I pressed the power button down again? But I wanted to leave the room, give up on this monstrosity of a console. Nervously, I flung the Wii remote and nunchuk onto the sofa and out of my hands. The sound of the leather moving underneath it sounded like a hiss. Of defeat? I didn't care, as long as I could just get my arse back to bed. The door was shut, pushing against it didn't help. Perhaps these old things were getting stiff. I wrapped my hand around the door handle-

No. No, I couldn't. Why? I broke out of my daze and peered down at my right hand grabbing for the handle. Except it wasn't grabbing for the handle, it was already holding something. Tucked between my fingers and my palm, sat in my hand a red Wii remote. I tried the other, but it too was busy holding up the nunchuk.

I know his fear. Such glorious fear. But not enough. Never enough.

More. More.

... he must see it. See it all...

I was being dragged back to the games. The unending games- what? Where'd that come from? Unending?! My fingers tampered with the controls, but I could sense I'd very little control left at all. The Photo Channel opened against my own volition, the loading screen flashing by in an eager blink. I never saw a Nintendo Wii process this fast. But this was no ordinary Wii, I was learning with dread...

I had almost no time to see what came next, but it looked like I- or whatever's controlling me- highlighted 'View Wii Message Board Photos'. Instantly the television was filled with almost a hundred messages, a picture attached to each. Missingno's face was the constant emblem floating on the left side of every note, a malevolent smirk of approval telling me all I needed to know about what would be inside. Was I meant to look through them all, was that why I was here? It was. The last post to appear expanded upon the flick of the cursor, and some horrific sound effect like chalk scraping on a blackboard accompanied it. There wasn't any text in the message, so my hand went mechanically ahead and widened the image.

He doesn't understand. He must understand.

...my memory took a while to kick in, not helped by the terror that suppressed everything in me but my present nightmare. Thankfully or not, the nightmare seemed to be in no rush. This was- New Year's Eve, 2012, the time I took a snapshot of my villager next to the countdown clock. How could I forget doing this? It was my first, most treasured image from the game. The happiness I felt at the time was immeasurable: I had only bought the game for myself on Christmas Eve with the money a close work colleague gifted me with, yet celebrating this festival with the in-game residents bonded me to this virtual life forever.

I wondered where 'Mark' was in the freeze frame; right next to Tortimer, yeah? No. No sign of me. In my place, on a nearby piece of grass, I saw a crack. My wrists were jerking around again, now they were opening a different post. The one I had been on melted away, only the memory of it living on. The next welcomed me with the same loud scrape as the other.

...the other... what was the other one? What was I looking at, just then?

...never mind. It was probably unimportant, whatever it was.

I didn't read anything, which didn't matter; I knew there were just the images. Next up, the snap of myself holding my first ever shark. June 3rd I believe, 2013. I was gone again, though. "I caught a shark!", declared the accompanying text box, but where was I? Only the shark was in view. There it hovered on the beach, as if everything was right in the world. A crack was right underneath it.

Next image. Next memory. All valued. All fading. You are not needed, you are not needed. You forget I forget they forget we forget all forget forever forever forever

I get through to the two final messages. Not sure what came before. What comes after. All the same.

All death

One is the only non-gaming picture we ever had on the Wii. Me and my so- me and Missingno, the family picture I begged him to take. There he is, the lively boy on the left. There I'm not, the emptiness to his right. The crack underneath, nobody will ever

ever

dig up. This post is completed. This past has ended.

There was only one note left. No visuals. I open it up. Text this time. 'Goodbye.' Missingno's father.

Last message, last minute. Close it down. Wii Menu. New channel, bad channel. Me Channel. There I am. Click. It's me in it. Me and the dark. I shout and cry. Knuckles banging on the screen, vibrating away. Red liquid down my hands. Down everything. A voice- 'help'. Another- 'Start'.

Start. Me Channel. 'Would you like to delete your me?' only. Yes.

'Are you sure?' Yes.

Deleting. All going. Goodbye. Goodbye. Goodbye.

'Create a new me?'

I asked, but he never said. Never pressed yes or no, never pressed 'Home' or 'Power'.

Never pressed, never will. Let the games continue.