abandoned batter (LEFT OFF au) thoughts (aka i am not okay about him)
thinking about how devastating it is that the player left him. (in the fact that his entire existence was designed to revolve around you)
the game starts, he awakens.
the player leaves, he doesn’t stop. can’t stop. the mission still runs in his bones.
ten years of silence, no player, no choices but his own. and what does he do?
he destroys the game file pretty much deviating from his code.
and his tells his player, “i completed the mission without you”.
it’s not victory. it’s grief. it’s him saying “you were supposed to guide me. you were supposed to be there when it ended. but i had to watch the world collapse alone.”
when his player says “we need to get you back in the computer,” there is no “back.” there is no game left. there is only him and his player now.
and the horror of it all:
he still sees them as the one who pulls the strings. even when they haven’t touched the game in a decade.
he looks at them not like a person, but like a world. the last world. the only world left (unpurified?).
the obsession isn’t romantic, not yet, it’s existential. they are literally his reason to exist.
the silence of ten years became something inside him. and now his player is back?!
when the player left, he kept waiting at the save point. days, months, years, standing in the glow of static light, because that’s where they always came back.
he tried speaking into the silence once. it echoed forever, unanswered. he never tried again.
the NPCs continued to move, on loops, breaking down without the player’s interference. he purified them anyway, because it was “the mission.”
he doesn’t sleep. when the screen went black, he simply stood in the void until it booted again.
every flicker of static, every ghost of corrupted code, he thought it was them. but it never was.
the game was supposed to end when they left. but it didn’t. and so he just… kept existing. in a world that shouldn’t have been running anymore
the tragedy isn’t that he hates them for leaving. it’s that he still belongs to them after all this time. every movement, every thought, still tied to the invisible strings of a player who stopped playing.
…and when they finally come back, he doesn’t know how to let go.
pixelskylines
germansingergirl
dailybridgerton
andulkaphoto
janainaart
tangentwithtanner
ellievsbear
