I'm sitting in a brightly lit room staring at my computer monitor, bored out of my mind, wondering what to do. I spend a few minutes pondering my options. I could try out that new game I bought, "TROUBLESHOOTER: Abandoned Children". I bought it a few days ago along with my NovelAI subscription; it was on sale, and I was still chasing the high after finishing a recent "Ironman" playthrough of "X-COM"— and I'm not talking about that recent, casualized reboot. I'm talking about the old one, the classic. I'm a gamer, after all. I have my credentials to uphold. I could also surf YouTube; maybe one of the content creators I enjoy has uploaded something new. I always enjoy deep dives into obscure game mechanics nobody should give a shit about, the proof of my gamer-ness.
Before I decide on what to do, I tab over to the /aids/ thread; there have been a few new posts since I last checked it, and I wonder what they have to say. One of them catches my eye. It's a picture of a cartoon goose saying "Aini has a penis?!". I can't help but smile when I see it. I give them a (You) with the words "Still would."
I decide to try out the game. I tab my monitor over to Steam and click play. My monitor darkens, and I catch a glimpse of myself in the reflection. I'm wearing pink cat-ear headphones, and I have a big smile on my face. As the game loads, I reach onto my desk and grab the can of Mountain Dew that's sitting on it. Truly, this drink is the nectar of the gods, and all certified gamers should drink it. I take a big swig of it and return it to my desk. The game loads, and it asks me to pick a difficulty; obviously, I pick the hardest one. The first thing I notice is that all the voice acting is in Chinese. I wasn't aware of this. God, what an ugly language to listen to.
I continue to play the game, and eventually I meet a fiery redhead. She's kind of cute, but she keeps calling herself the hero. That really pisses me off; I'm the gamer, I'm the hero. You're just some little pixels on a screen, made by some gooks in China. Whatever, she has a cute little ass, so I let it slide. I effortlessly beat the mission. This game seems to be designed for babies. A true gamer like myself won't have any issues. After a few hours of play, I decide I've had my fill and close it.
I check back in on the /aids/ thread. It's hit the bump limit and is about to die. Someone posted a link to the new thread, and I hurriedly click on it. I scroll through the posts, and one catches my eye. It's contest-anon. He announced the rules for the contest he's holding; he wants people to write stories about contests. That's a fun little gimmick. I read it over carefully; the grand prize is a month of the best subscription to NovelAI. I could definitely use that, but it's not like I need it. But then again, I've been in the mood to write lately, and it sounds like it could be a fun chance to put some honest effort into a story. Insecurities begin to eat at my mind. I've never actually written seriously before, and my sense of grammar is poor. I should have paid better attention in school, but I was too busy being a gamer. As I'm pondering this, I get up and go to my bathroom. It's time to take a fat gamer shit. I sit on my toilet and think it over, and I realize I don't actually know anything about the man. I wonder what he likes. It would suck if I wrote a gay furry fanfic and he disqualified me because of his taste. Maybe we share a common interest? I think up some questions to get to know what he likes, and I finish my business.
I return to my computer, and I type out my reply to his post, asking him what he likes. I'm afraid to hit send and just kind of stare at the text for awhile. What if he thinks I'm pandering? What if other anons give me shit for taking the contest seriously? Doubts cloud my mind, but I take a deep breath and clear them. Anon E. Moose, you've been browsing that Mongolian basket weaving forum for years; your skin is thick enough to take whatever they respond with, if they respond at all. I take another long, drawn-out breath and send it.
I immediately tab away from the thread in fear and go watch YouTube. I see a video of Alex Jones talking about eating his neighbors. What a gamer! I can't get enough of him. I love that man. Not in a gay way, of course. Gamers aren't gay. Thinking about it, if I had to, I would eat my neighbors too. I mentally thank Alex; he truly has the balls to ask the hard-hitting questions.
As the video ends, I glance at the /aids/ tab and see someone gave me a (You), oh god. This is the big moment. I mentally prepare myself and tab over to it. Contest-anon replied to me; he wrote about his likes and dislikes. It seems we both like fantasy stories and Monstergirls. Maybe I should write a story about that? I also get the impression he thought I was trying to pander to him, Fuck. That's embarrassing. I'm not a dick-sucker; I'm a gamer. I quickly write him a reply, stating my intentions were for inspiration only.
I get off my chair and start pacing around my house, brainstorming ideas. Fantasy and Monstergirls ... doing some kind of contest. Maybe the Monstergirl Olympics? That could be fun to write about. I could have the competitions decided based on their animal features. But wouldn't that be stacked in favor of the more athletic races? Maybe I could have them do some sort of board game too, for the more brainy races. Another idea strikes me: what about a young man who falls in love with a centaur from a clan of warriors? He would have to go through multiple trials to prove to their clan that he's worthy of taking her hand in marriage. That could be fun to write about, plus there'd be sex, too.
I walk back to my computer and notice I have a ping on Discord; it's from an individual known as Dire. I open it up. He called me a nigger. Bless that retarded crocodire; he's truly a beacon of light in these trying times. I close Discord and open the thread back up. I see a post about someone asking where the beaks were, and the only (You) he got said "check inside your anus". That's kind of sad, but he was asking for it.
I decide to go with the Monstergirl Olympics theme, and I open up NovelAI and start fleshing it out. I spend a few hours on it, making lorebooks on the various races and their traditions towards the Olympics. As I'm reading what I wrote, I realize it's pretty dull. It's more like reading a dictionary and isn't very entertaining at all. I spend a few minutes thinking about what I should do. I could try to rewrite it, but I'm not confident in my prose. Should I scrap it? I thought it was a pretty novel idea; there's some potential there. Eventually, I just decide to delete the whole thing. I'm a gamer, not a writer.
I go lay down in my bed. It's nice and cool. I start thinking about what kind of writing I like in video games. I like fully fleshed-out worlds that I can get immersed in, but I'm not confident enough to be able to pull that off. I like cringe-worthy stuff I can make fun of, and I like when the cute girl says she loves me. I don't think I can write women well. I'm a gamer, not a woman. "Hmm... something cringe..." I ponder it out loud. I could write a low-effort shitpost and send it in for laughs, but I kind of want to spend some real effort on it. The idea strikes me like a bolt of lightning: what if I wrote a story about me writing the story for the contest? That's fucking retarded; it's meta, it's stupid, and it's kind of cringe. I try to focus on brainstorming other ideas, but I keep getting pulled back to that concept. I could stuff it full of epic memes and sick references. And even if contest-anon hates it, I'm sure someone would get a kick out of it.
I get off my bed and go back to my computer. The /aids/ thread is about to die again, and a new one was posted. I click on it and notice I already have a (You). It's recap-anon. It's kind of scary how fast he's able to push out those huge walls of text. I guess he must have Notepad open or something and works on the post as the thread progresses. Either way, I appreciate being noticed. Someone else posted a lewd screenshot, and I realize I haven't masturbated today. You can't be a gamer if you don't masturbate at least once a day.
I switch over to NovelAI and load up 'ol reliable, the Anon Harem prompt. I type "I cum" and let the AI do the rest. As the AI behaves like a slut, my penis keeps swelling and swelling. After correcting all those bratty anons, I decide I've had enough foreplay and launch Stable Diffusion. I start generating pictures of futanari anthropomorphic wolf girls having sex in POV with a human male. God, that's hot. I reach for the nearby tissues and wrap them around my throbbing cock. I explode into them, closing my eyes and taking a few seconds to enjoy the ejaculation. That's when post-nut clarity hits, and I quickly close Stable Diffusion in shame. I start playing some loud, upbeat music in my pink cat-ear headphones, and my big smile starts to slowly return to my face. I've validated myself as a gamer.
I take a fat rip from my nearby bong, and my lungs can't handle it. I start coughing violently, and my vision becomes unfocused. After a few seconds, I get myself under control, and I tab back over to NovelAI. I start fleshing out the prompt for my contest submission. At first, the words flow from my fingertips like lightning bolts, and I'm easily able to write paragraph after paragraph. But then they start to slow down. It becomes harder and harder to think of things to write. Prompt-anon said he preferred longer prompts, and we had 8K context to play with, but I'm only at 2423. How the fuck am I going to keep this shitpost going? I'm not even halfway to filling out the context. I debate using the AI to help fill it up, but ultimately decide against it. For some reason, I think it would be hilarious to enter a text-gen competition and never use the AI. Plus, I want people to see paragraph after paragraph of yellow text if they ever load it as a .scenario.
I decide to take a break from writing my submission and tab back over to /aids/. There's an /aicg/ refugee, and he's posting about how everyone's getting banned. I feel a little sorry for them, but they should know that's what happens when you try to jailbreak these censored text-gen models. Hopefully, NovelAI releases their chatbot competitor soon. Despite what I think of them, the people who enjoy them should have a good, uncensored service.
As I scroll through the thread, I see people talking about using instruct with Karya. I haven't messed around with it enough to give any valid opinions, so I decide not to respond. I keep scrolling and see someone impersonating Aini; he's making a legitimately funny joke about how a fictional version of her would whore herself out to contest-anon for the grand prize of the contest. At first, I smiled. But then my blood quickly turns cold as I realize that's eerily similar to the theme I'm writing for the contest. Should I rush my submission so I can be the first? It would be awful if someone came to the same conclusion as me for the contest; it would totally ruin the joke. Speaking of jokes, Aini must have some seriously thick skin to be able to deal with all the jokes about her. I can't help but admire her a little.
I reach the end of the thread for now, and I tab back over to NovelAI. I re-read what I wrote. It's kind of funny? It'll have to do; I don't think I can do better. I start writing a few more lines, and my brain becomes empty. I'm unable to think of anything else to add. I get up and decide to take a walk. It's a nice day out today; there's very little wind, and the temperature is just right. I just wish the clouds would go away. As I'm walking along the road, I keep thinking about things to add to the story. Maybe I could make a joke about fuckmonger? No, I really shouldn't. A car races past me, and I take a look at my phone. It's getting late. I keep pondering if there's anything funny I could add, and in the end I decide it's better to quit while I'm ahead rather than drag it out. I decide to head back home, thinking about if there are any last-minute jokes I could add that would actually add value to my high-effort shitpost.
Once I'm home, I return to my computer and tab back over to the /aids/ thread, I catch up with the thread and there's nothing particularly interesting to me. I tab over to NovelAI, and re-read my story multiple times. I think it's good enough. Even If I lose, I still had fun writing it. I'm a little worried grammar-anon is going to have an aneurysm when he sees it though so I look around online and find a grammar checker. I start pasting my story in and fixing the punctuation then pasting it back to NovelAI. Curse my hillbilly grammar. There's a few things that it's telling me to change that I'm not entirely sure are correct, so I decide to just leave those as is. If something's wrong I'm sure grammer-anon will point it out once it's on the club.
Once I'm home, I return to my computer and tab back over to the /aids/ thread. I catch up with the thread, and there's nothing particularly interesting to me. I tab over to NovelAI and re-read my story multiple times. I think it's good enough. Even if I lose, I still had fun writing it. I'm a little worried grammar-anon is going to have an aneurysm when he sees it, though, so I look around online and find a grammar checker. I start pasting my story in, fixing the punctuation, and then pasting it back to NovelAI. Curse my hillbilly grammar. There are a few things that it's telling me to change that I'm not entirely sure are correct, so I decide to just leave those as is. If something's wrong, I'm sure grammar-anon will point it out once it's on the club.
Fuck, I keep pasting the edited paragraphs back in instead of replacing them. I'm an idiot. Oh well. Once it's all fixed up, I'm sure grammar-anon won't think I'm a total fucking idiot. Just mildly mentally challenged. As embarrassing as it is to get called out for being illiterate, I still appreciate what he does. He's generally really nice with his critiques, and I can feel his desire to help improve us sub-par writers in /aids/. Plus, it's always nice to know someone out there read the prompt you decided was good enough to post on the club.
I finish the Mountain Dew I've been sipping on over the past couple hours. It sure is nice to game out with the 'dew every once in awhile. But a real gamer knows to also drink water. I walk over to my fridge and get a nice, cold, refreshing glass of it. I take a sip of it. Yeah, that's the good stuff. I'm thinking it's game time, so I walk over to my computer and plug in my arcade stick. I boot up Street Fighter 6. I pick my main, "Juri-Han," and start the matchmaking. I'm about to teach some lesser gamers a lesson.
My screen flashes, telling me it's found a new challenger. It's a Cammy player, and she's wearing the original outfit. What a chad. I spin my stick around to make funny faces at her as the game loads. I notice her rank. She's a "Platinum one." I look at my own rank, "Platinum three." Yeah, this should be easy. I win the first round with a clutch combo into critical art. She skips the win animation and immediately starts the next round. I think she's salty. She tries to rush me down, but I'm able to block out her strings and anti-air her jumps. I win the second round and the match off my superior fundamentals. Content with my gamer superiority, and with a big smile on my face, I close the game and check on the /aids/ thread.
Someone posted a prompt for theme Friday, and grammar-anon blew him up. He made two whole posts dedicated to it. Surely, that won't happen to me, right? I reach the end of the thread, and I tab over to NovelAI. I reread my story a couple more times. I still can't think of anything.
I'm starting to get hungry; I haven't eaten anything all day. I decide to get some food. I go to my pantry and grab a can of meatloaf. Now, that's real gamer food. I heat it up and dig in. Can you really call yourself a gamer if you don't have an emergency supply of canned meatloaf? I think not. When I'm finished, I wash the dishes and put them away. I return to my room, and I'm starting to feel tired. It must be the meatloaf. I decide to lie down and take a nap.
***
I awake in the middle of the night. The first thing I do is go to my bathroom. It's time to take a piss. When I finish, I wash my hands and return to my room. I sit in my gamer chair and check on /aids/; they're talking about working out. I mentally scoff at them; real gamers don't need to work out. If a girl isn't attracted to my huge gamer score and thick gamer musk, I want nothing to do with them. They'd just be another Stacy.
I put on my pink cat-ear headphones and start playing the "Lovely Planet" soundtrack. What a good soundtrack! A big smile creeps on my face as I jam out to the music. I tab over to NovelAI and reread my story with a fresh pair of eyes. A few of the jokes are still funny, but I begin to realize it's way more cringe than I originally thought while writing it, Maybe I should just delete it and give up? Do I really want to make an ass out of myself for a cringe joke? I remember how many hours of effort I put into it. That and the fact that it's supposed to be cringe. I'll just ignore anyone who makes fun of it; I'm a gamer, I can do that.
I start writing some more paragraphs for my submission, and my rest turns out to be helpful. I'm able to think of a few more stupid jokes to throw in. Eventually, I hit a roadblock. I check the context. It's sitting at 4438. That's pretty long now. I'm a little proud of the fact that I was able to drag out my shitpost for that long. I wrack my brain; somehow, I need to think of a way to jump cut to the day of the contest in the story, but how the fuck am I supposed to do that?
***
It's the day of the contest. I'm sitting at my computer, doing a final reread of my submission. Am I really about to post this? I'm sure someone is going to call me a retard. I shake off my doubts; a real gamer isn't afraid to be called a nigger. I export my story as a .scenario, and upload it to the club. I save it as a draft and just kind of read it for awhile. I'm afraid to publish it and make a post. I don't want the attention. My mind wanders, and I think of grammar-anon reading it—would he think it's funny? Or would he think I'm fucking cringe? I gather my gamer courage and take a deep breath. I publish it to the club.
I tab over to the /aids/ thread and start making my post. I write, "Here's my submission for the contest of contests, 'Anon Writes a Prompt for the Contest'". I paste the link in. I decide to attach a video of some cute bears waving. It's like they're saying, "Hey! Come check it out!" I reread my story a final time. Well, here goes nothing. I type out the captcha and hit submit.
I quickly tab away from the thread because I'm afraid of what people will think of it. I decide to get all gamed up and launch "TROUBLESHOOTER: Abandoned Children". I spend a couple hours playing it, and make some good progress. Despite the game being piss easy, it's still kind of fun. Plus, I heard it gets good 20 hours in. After I'm content and have had my fill, I close the game and check on the /aids/ thread.
Someone replied to my post. My heart rate spikes, and I start shaking. Despite my fear, I'm curious what they had to say. I slowly bring my cursor over to their post and begin to read it. It's grammar-anon. Fuck, that's a lot of corrections. I feel ashamed of my illiteracy, but I'm glad he read it. I respond to him, thanking him for taking the time to read and critique my trash.
***
A few uneventful hours go by, and eventually I see a post from contest-anon. This is the big moment, the culmination of my effort. I start to read his post. He thanks everyone for taking the time to write for his contest and encourages people to keep writing even if they lost. He announces the winners, and my eyes become glued to the screen. In first place, ████â–. Huh? I can't read it. It's a pixelated mess. I look at the second-place winner, ███. What the fuck? Am I going crazy? The pixels on my screen begin to dance and vibrate. I feel a sudden pain in my chest.
I wake up. It was all a dream, I used to read Word Up! magazine