Are You Game?
Phillip Lendon walked through the arcade looking for a machine that he hadn't already completed at least once, in an attempt to take his mind off the world around him. He had three Dollars in his pocket, and with his gaming skills it would be enough to keep him away from home, away from his drunken father and semi-catatonic mother until the early evening.
He strolled passed the virtual sports games, the Virtual Fighters, Street Fighters and Shoot 'em ups that filled the middle portion of the arcade. He breezed through the slot machines. He had never touched them and never would. He paused a moment by the fishing game in the back corner, his name was one all of the top 10 positions, but he doubted anybody else played it. Then, something caught his eye, hidden away in the opposite corner was a new machine. Even though it was 'out back', a place reserved for old machines, Phillip had never seen it before, and he knew the arcade better than anyone.
It was blue, electric blue and there was a screaming face painted in white on the right hand side. A strange yellow glow was cast up from the screen and seemed to beckon Phillip to it.
Without knowing why, Phillip slipped all his coins into the machines hungry slot and gripped the handles. They were warm. It was an old-fashioned sort of game, there were two joysticks each one with two buttons, one on the top, one on the backbone. The purpose of the game was unclear, even at the start screen. Suddenly the handles started to vibrate, ever so slightly and the screen burst into life.
It was a simple game, a 3-D maze, where the objective of each level was simply to reach the centre of the maze; never the exit. Each stage was different, some traditional garden mazes, another was in what looked like a prison, with corridors and barred doors. One was on a space station and another in the Wild West.
Phillip had lost all track of time, his credit never seemed to reduce even though he died multiple times. His attention was absorbed by the game. Everything felt so lifelike, look so real. He raised his hand to wipe the sweat from his brow, his hand came away from the handle with a strange ripping sound like sitting on leather seats for long.
Phillip resumed playing. His eyes were red and sore, his mouth dry. Large purple bags had appeared beneath his eyes, and now began to swell. He didn't notice. The game had taken its hold.
The arcade closed, the lights went out, and nobody saw Phillip. He didn't need lights to play and so the no longer held a purpose in his life. Every level he advanced Phillip felt the world he knew slip further away from him. His abusive father, the man who would beat and abuse him. The mother whose only care was getting her pills on time each day. He felt the school and the bullies rip away; aborted from his life.
Sweat covered his brow, and when he went to wipe it away his hand refused to let go; cramp. Or so he thought.
Phillip focused his thoughts, breaking his gaze on the screen, suddenly aware of how tired he felt and the darkness around him. Trying again his hand finally came away from the stick, only he never actually let go.His fingers refused to release their grip and so stretched like hot mozzarella on a fresh pizza. Blood coursed through the rubberized skin fold, the bones disappeared.
"What the fuck" Phillip cried. He raised blinked hard, trying to clear his tired vision. When that didn't work he raised his right hand to rub his eyes, only to find the skin stretch in the same fashion.
The music erupted from the machine; which until that point Phillip hadn't noticed had been silent. It was heavy music, dark; it sounded like laughter. Phillip began to struggle, desperate to get away from, only it did no good. Every jerked movement he made, every pull and twist actually brought his hands closer to the game once more.
In his mouth, Phillips tongue fell still between his lower teeth. Useless and dead it soon became cold and hard, almost leathery.
The tips of his fingers were the first thing to change. They became hard. Not that they were regaining their normal solid form, but rather turning black. They fused to the joysticks and in doing so pulled Phillip back to the game. He was helpless, the sticks moved of their accord, the buttons fired and launched without command much like a Pianola.
"Help" Phillips called again, knowing it was futile.
His now plastic fingers had fused with the control sticks down to the second knuckle by the time Phillips pulled up the courage to yank himself away. Pain erupted in his head, his vision exploded with bright sparks of pain. He heard his fingers snap and dislocate at the main knuckle that sprung from his palms, but their fusion would not be undone. Phillip cried out, his mouth fell open and a road flew from his lips.
As if woken from a slumber, Phillips tongue sprang to life and fell from his mouth. Like his fingers it stretched and pulled. It thinned out once it left the warmth of the mouth, and hung down past his chin; resting.
Tears welled in his eyes and flowed over his cheeks, dripping onto the console beneath him. Each second he was pulled closer and his face was now no more than 12 inches away from the screen. His fingers fully fused, his palms cupped, gripping the controls. Phillip grunted as the bones in his hands were crushed allowing the loose skin to fold over the controls until his wrists. The music continued to laugh at him.
The final level was reaching completion, the boss just one stage away. Phillip no longer saw the game, only his own face reflected in the monitor. His eyes were black; the entire ball, his tongue hung long and thin from his mouth and seemed to flickers like a snakes, feeling the air. With alarming speed to shot out, snaking its way over the console ripping away its oral foundations. Blood flowed out of Phillips open mouth, it was thick and black, it ran down his chin as each movement his tongue made ripped him further. He watched as the tip disappeared around behind the machine, finding the port where the power cable should have been. It penetrated the machine and began to pulse, draining Phillip. The flow of blood from his mouth stemmed as it got diverted through his tongue and into the machine. Large balls passed through it, like a garden hose in a Disney cartoon.
His feet were planted to the floor, and no matter how much he struggled Phillip couldn't break the hold of the machine. He felt his body empty, the world around began to blur, and finally, when the darkness over took him he fell to the floor. The joysticks pulled out of the machine as he collapsed, their wires dripping blood, bright and red.
The next morning when the Arcades manager opened up he found body of a young boy in the back next to a machine he didn't recognize. It was blue and had two strange-looking faces painted onto the side.
He reached into his pocket and unknowingly pulled out 50 cents. He stepped over the body - which he no longer saw – and into the powerful yellow glow of the game.
