thecapitol | In many ways, they'll miss the good old days

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In many ways, they'll miss the good old days

Who| Nick, Firo, Daryl, and Phillip Gray
What| Four dudes gather up at the arcade and shenanigans happen
Where| Some arcade in the Capitol
When| After Black Tom's Crowning, before the credit announcement ~~this idea had been a thing for a while~~

The arena had been an ordeal to watch as much as it would've been if he had lasted past the cornucopia. A lot has kept Nick busy for the most part, having suddenly be set up with a blind date he never volunteered himself for, along with the ball that happened and the strange sickness that swept over nearly everyone that evening. The Crowning, like with the others, he only attended because he had to. Unexpected, but good things came from the last several weeks, but coupled with dealing with missing Clementine, it had been a roller coaster for him. He needed to take advantage of this quiet downtime to process everything.

Along the way, he runs into Firo, who Nick doesn't doubt probably has his own troubles. Their first and last conversation at the Stark Crowning about each other was interesting for Nick. He'll admit that he sort of gets a kick out of seeing Firo react to modern things, like music (why talk about lurkers when explaining the Baby Boom is way more fun?). As soon as he realizes that the other man has never been to an arcade before, he opts to show him once they came across one.

That's when they find Daryl and another man named Phillip Gray. Nick hasn't met him himself until now, but he had seen arena footage and knows enough to be sympathetic towards him and Daryl both. To Nick's surprise, it's Daryl's first time at an arcade too whereas Phil told them he used to work at one.

The four of them gathered together have already drawn the attention of onlookers, but they'll make the most out of their time here.

"So what should we hit up first?"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Nick had never seen a light gun shooter that could accommodate four players. The mechanics are familiar for him though. There's a pedal to step on to have the character duck out of cover to shoot and removing your foot meant to take cover again and reload.

The players need to shoot at the screen to indicate their choice of opponent and the game will go by the majority vote. The choices range from generic robots, rebels, aliens, and lurkers.

Nick makes a face at the last two especially before clicking his gun to select the robots. He'll go with whatever is chosen, of course.

Firo can't help but grin when he sees the fake guns. It would be too much to hope that they'd have a knifing game, but he supposes this is good enough. He hefts one of the pieces, getting used to the incredibly light weight. "Don't always use guns at home, but... I think I get what this one is."

"Let's see how good they are at makin' it like the real thing, huh?"

Somehow, he has a feeling this is going to be hilarious.

"Haven't seen one of these before."

The high score is listed as 800. Nick doubts he could even come close to breaking that, but he slides his card to give it a go. Tugging the bag down and looking at his fist, he thinks about all the recent things that have pissed him off. Once it gets to the level of being "too real" for him, he lets his fist fly hard.

The bag shakes back and forth as the numbers rise to...630. Not as shit tier as he thought he'd be. He turns around to face the others and steps aside for their turn, if they want to take it. Meanwhile, he flexes his fingers because they totally aren't hurting.

Firo watches Nick approach the game, noting down how he gears up and strikes. "No way. You just whale on the thing?" This, at least, is something he gets.

Firo looks from the high score to Nick's, considering a moment. "What's a good number?"

It's not that he doubts Nick--the opposite, actually. He's curious who got the higher score; could a Capitol child really beat someone who's been through Arenas and all matter of weirdness back home? Is the thing just arbitrary? Of course, it could be that a Tribute or a Mentor came through and scored that (or a kid came in and hit it with a baseball bat).

Oh, hell yes.

Nick takes his position on the right side of the blue team and waits for whoever opts to be his teammate. He looks at the machine and notices there are a bunch of smaller pucks in addition to the main one they are given and when those drop is anyone's guess. That's a new gimmick that he hasn't seen before. He'd be lying if he said it doesn't sound fun.

Daryl's the next to wander over, so he naturally takes up a position on the opposite side of the table from Nick, gripping the edge with both hands as he leans forward slightly to survey the game setup.

"What's this?" he asks, and picks up one of the strikers on his side.

He's at least somewhat familiar with air hockey by virtue of the fact some bars have tables, but he's definitely never seen one this elaborate before. Despite admittedly feeling a bit out of his depth here, Nick, Firo, and Phillip have been surprisingly kind about him being an arcade novice — so a little friendly competition can't hurt, right?

If Daryl's an arcade novice, then Firo's akin to an infant. Air hockey, especially, won't be invented for another few decades after him, so this whole set-up looks baffling.

He wanders over to Nick's side, assuming that their original groups work fine.

He picks up one of the mallets and considers it, then looks at either end of the table. "We throw these at each other? Are we supposed to hit the other guy or avoid him?"

The moment Firo suggested that someone throw the puck bristled Phillip into a familiar rant that comes out of nowhere, "Pucks are for playing, not chucking!" He paused for a moment and realized that he said that rhyme to four adult men instead of a room full of screaming children. "Uh...I, uh, well...never mind, just don't throw it, let it slide."

Phil's little outburst has Nick raising a brow at the man. From working at an arcade, the guy probably has a lot of crazy stories to tell about his work. Maybe.

"...yeah, what he said." Nick inserts the tokens to start up the game. The main puck, made to stand out from the smaller ones hanging on the side with its red color, slides out from their end. As he starts to explain, he looks at Firo and Daryl both since they're less familiar. "We use our mallets to hit the puck into their goal, which is the slot on their side, and to keep them from doing the same to us from our side. It's pretty easy once you get the hang of it."

He gestures over at the smaller, brighter pucks. "I never played the kind of air hockey where there's more than one puck, but the idea is the same."

The puck drifts slightly from the air coming out of the table as Nick sets it down. Once everyone looks ready, he sends the disc sliding to ricochet from the sides and hopefully, towards the goal.

Edited (sorry I messed up the posting order there! ; w ; ) 2015-07-25 05:37 (UTC)

The suggestion that they throw the game equipment at each other is met with amusement on Daryl's part.

"I dunno, Firo's idea sounds pretty entertainin'," he says reasonably, playing devil's advocate just to needle Phillip a bit, since he seems so high-strung about it. But he's soon glancing sidelong at Phillip, offering a slight smile to let him know it's a joke. Poor guy clearly has experience with exactly that sort of thing.

Nick must be going easy on them to start with; the puck is handily blocked and sent sliding back across the table in the same motion, while the table itself starts lighting up and making ridiculous electronic whizzing and pinging sounds, not unlike a pinball machine.

Firo nods, chastened by the reprimands. "Geez, sorry. I was just askin'."

He does grin at Daryl, though. "Thank you."

Firo's ready to dive right in and learn how the heck to play this game, so he takes a big whack at the puck when it comes back. The thing bounces off the table, into the air, and--to his mortification and astonishment--right at someone on the other side of the table.

The moment he saw the puck in Firo's hand, Phillip dodged the incoming projectile, old muscle memory still good after being here for almost seven months. Wherever he worked, Gray had to be on point, and boy howdy, did it help when kids got unruly. What he didn't expect was someone else beside him...until he remembered he was on Daryl's side of the table.

Well shit.

Phone Guy was used to small to teenaged children raising hell...something told him this could end up being no different.

The puck sent by Daryl slides towards Firo's side of the board, so Nick manages to hold back his ~~jumpy~~ quick reflexes for the sake of letting the other man give it a shot...and instantly regrets not putting an emphasis on how hard one should hit.

His eyes widen from blinking only once to see the puck flying across the table and towards his fellow apocalypse survivor. It happens too fast for him to warn Daryl to look out.

At the same moment Firo hits the main puck with a wee bit too much force, the game has sent one of the smaller pucks into play, and Daryl's too focused on hitting that one to notice the projectile headed his way in time to duck. In his defense, he'd assumed Firo was joking about throwing things.

Subsequently Daryl's face is what stops the puck, which clatters to the floor, and luckily for those who aren't already infected with a zombie virus, he cups his suddenly bleeding nose before the blood can drip anywhere except on himself. He stands there in wide-eyed surprise for several seconds, before his expression gradually shifts and he almost looks like he might laugh.

"...Guess you were serious," he mumbles nasally, and goes to locate some napkins from a nearby table.

Talk about taking one for the team.

Firo watches wide-eyed as the hit sails not-so-gracefully into the air and into someone's face. Okay, maybe you're not supposed to hit it that hard. Is it his fault these things are apparently so light and so ready to fly off raining destruction?

...All the same, even Firo can see that that was 100% his fault.

He pauses, then sets his mallet on the table and runs his hand through his hair. "...Sorry."

Then, he blinks up at Nick. "Should we give 'em a point or somethin'..?"

Helping Daryl's team win will heal some wounds, right?

First aid was always an essential part of working with kids but Daryl would get a napkin, or five as Phil rushed let the man have something to stop the bleeding. "Uh...think you can get that over to medical services?" Maybe it was the rumors of the zombie virus living in Daryl were true but he didn't want to risk it, especially with caring Vivi and Sandy.

"It's okay Firo," he offered, "I guess I was a chicken to take the hit."

Nick doesn't even wince at the blood (he and Daryl have both seen and been through worse, he imagines) but is almost astonished at how hard Firo must've hit for it to happen like that.

One of the tiny pucks slowly skates to and stops at Nick's striker. He glances between it and towards where Daryl walked to fix himself up.

"...yeah, probably."

If this had been any other occasion, he'd take the chance to hit it across the table but instead just nudges it into their goal, granting the other team a point. The crowd cheer from the machine is loud though the table itself remains quiet until the larger puck is put into play again.

"Knowin' him, he'll come back and give us hell for it." Not literally. He gestures at the game to emphasize just what sort of hell he means, and continues reassuringly, "Don't worry about it though. Stuff like that can happen if you hit too hard and a lot of folks make that mistake."

He's not going to name names but it rhymes with ten-year-old-kick.

The electronic cheering noise of a point being scored has Daryl grumbling. "We don't need no pity points to win!" he calls from where he and Phillip are collecting napkins. After wiping off his face, he methodically feels his nose to determine whether anything's broken, but the worst of it just seems to be a gash. Doesn't need stitches, so it isn't worth worrying about; if it leaves a scar, it'll match the others on his face.

Looking from Phillip to the bloody napkins in his hand, he shrugs a shoulder, pocketing them and grabbing a few more fresh ones. "Ain't a big deal. C'mon."

Once they return to the table, he takes a mallet in his clean hand, using the other to occasionally press the napkins to his nose when needed. It's unclear how exactly the walker virus is transmitted, but he does what he can to minimise others' exposure to his bodily fluids as a precaution. (If Phillip or Firo ever do reanimate in an arena, the Capitol gossipmongers will undoubtedly have a field day speculating on how they were infected.)

Daryl stretches across the table to quickly hit one of the drifting pucks and get the game started again.

Firo shakes his head at Phil. "Not your fault." And after the guy warned him and everything. Firo can't help but feel like a bit of a dick on all counts, which is a much lighter punishment than what he deserves.

Necessary or not, Firo's relieved that Nick goes along with the free points and only looks a little abashed at Daryl's protest. It's just like hush money, right?

Firo has learned at least a little bit and doesn't go all out this time. In fact, his hit just slides past the puck and the little thing continues on uninterrupted. At the same time, an additional one drops down from above.

As soon as Daryl says it's not a big deal, Phil steers a bit away from the mess and immediately tried to walk over to the first aid station, "I know it's not my fault but I guess old habits die very hard when you're working with kids."

That and he has a sneaking suspicion that Darly and Nick are all avoiding contact for a reason. The rumors of the zombie virus took a pretty real turn now.

Christ, Daryl would've noticed eventually but Nick didn't think it'd be that quick from that far. "Man, he hears like a bat," he says to Firo as he delivers a swift strike at the large puck with a flick of his wrist. The machine's making a lot more noise than what he's used to. Hell, there are a lot more pucks in play than he's used to.

Right as he feels that way, four more end up dropping and clattering all around them. Nick's eyes dart around the table like a cat, unsure of which one to follow.

Just hitting any that come hear the goal is the best and only strategy for him.

"Watch it, watch it!"

"I'm tellin' you: Games like this one here are rigged."

Nick folds his arms and waits for anyone to tell him otherwise. No, he's had more than enough memories of attempting to win the alluring prizes that included videogames and systems...and ultimately failing. He hated the stupid voice from the game too. It taunted him, and the one that's coming from this machine is no different.

He's had better luck with the crane machines before, although none of the stuff animal prizes here appeal to him. Some of them look like other tributes, but he only gives them a sparing look before keeping himself from thinking about it.

"'Course they are. Well, I ain't never done that kind, but I know these," Daryl says as he steps up to one of the crane machines.

He's aware of the programmable grip settings and payout percentages, and courtesy of his older brother (during one of Merle's rare moments of kindness), how to bypass the rigged bullshit and physically manipulate the machine. Some have tilt mechanics that'll lock up the machine, but the majority didn't back home — only one way to find out what they're like in Panem.

He drops in a token and guides the claw to what is unmistakably a little plush Vivi, hat and all, sitting on top of the pile and close to the drop chute. As anticipated, the claw has a firm grip at first and loosens as it retracts, and that's when Daryl carefully tips the machine, causing the toy to fall toward the chute as it slips out of the claw.

There's no buzzing, no flashing lights, no locking up of the machine. Mission accomplished. He retrieves the Vivi toy and goes again, this time aiming for a kid-sized cowboy hat in a corner. The shape and position of it makes it a trickier proposition, and it takes two turns to finally snag it.

"Y'all want somethin' in particular?" he asks the others, a faint hint of amusement in his tone. Cheating at a rigged game to win adult men some plush toys? Ain't nothing weird about that. The cutesy deer toy is obviously meant for Nick, and Daryl's already going for it next.

Rigging? How atrocious. Certainly none of the games at his place were ever rigged. ...Well, some of them, at least. With the defensiveness common in mob guys, Firo immediately decides that the house cheating the games at an adult casino obviously isn't as bad as bamboozling something kids play with.

All the same, he can't hide a bit of a smirk as he watches Daryl work his magic. Watching very closely, of course, just in case. He doesn't know yet what the future of businesses like his own holds, so this could be valuable information to have. "You got a grudge, Nick?"

To Daryl, he shakes his head. "No thanks. Just wanna see how it's done."

Phillip, on the other hand just leans back against the counter with one hell of a shit-eating grin. Of course they're rigged, it's part of the thrill that carries with a game of chance. Instead of confirming or denying this fact, he grabs the nearest beer and gives it a sip. This place brought back happy memories for the Phone Guy but if there ever was a guilty pleasure, it was playing these after hours...it's how he won all his Freddy Fazbear and Gang plushies. Don't judge.

"Good job, Daryl," he says, holding back the smirk as best he can. It is not successful.

It looks like Nick's the only one of the bunch to have a grudge against prize machines. They don't know. They don't know what it was like as a child to be lured in with a false sense of security and only to end up being crushed at the taunting sound from the machine that would mockingly tell him "Aw, too bad! Try again next time!" Fuck that voice.

So many sour memories of such experiences as a kid ~~and an adult, sometimes~~ and it's barely contained from the scowl he has when Firo asks him. "You can say that," he replies with a roll of his eyes, although he's visibly fighting the crook of his mouth to keep himself from smiling like a fool. It becomes more apparent as he looks over at Daryl.

"I wanna see you take all the prizes in there." And his win suggests he's had not only the experience, but also the skill. "Didn't peg you much as a guy that likes stuffed animals."

The toy he won was hardly an animal, but that's beside the point.

Challenge accepted.

Though not without subjecting Nick to some extreme side-eyeing at the stuffed animals comment. A few seconds later, the plush deer toy is thrown his direction too, with the expectation that he'll catch it.

"You callin' my boy an animal?" Daryl asks with mock-indignation, holding up the plush Vivi. The poor kid's been called all manner of offensive shit by the gossip rags — creepy shadow kid, demon child, cockblocker of steamy Southern sinfulness — but he knows Nick doesn't actually mean any harm. He tucks the toy back into his vest pocket as he continues shamelessly cheating his way to cheap prizes.

Despite Firo declining his offer, several pairs of fuzzy dice in every colour of the rainbow are tossed his way all the same. He just seems like a fuzzy dice kind of guy, even if they probably don't exist yet in the time he's from.

The other retro guy — retro to Daryl, anyway, since he'd been a kid in the 80's — gets a plush fox toy tossed toward him as well, aimed to carefully avoid hitting his beer.

"So what's the secret to winnin' that?" he wonders, nodding toward the stacker game. It has a few more expensive-looking prizes, so is presumably even more heavily rigged than the crane games. Doesn't seem like manhandling the machine will make any difference, either.

Firo considers insisting that he really doesn't need them, but... Well, no one can tease him if they're all accepting plush animals/children. "Um, thank you.. He fiddles with them a bit, wonsering how they'd work in an actual dice game.

"Don't ask me. I'm not even sure how it'd work."

Anything with a screen is more than a bit odd to him, considering television hasn't even been fully developed.

"It's gotta be about the timing or whatever, right? ...But if it's just lights, then it's gotta be way easier for the owner to mess with." He finally shuts up, realizing that he's just thinking out loud and probably not contributing anything of value.

Daryl's gift would prove to be a boon for Phone Guy, to play while he's getting ready for the next arena. He's a bit off seeing Vivi as a plush toy, the mage had seen a lot of dirt flung at him, and now this? No wonder the poor kid's so shy! Gray appreciates the fox plushie, more so when he knows his own pet will enjoy seeing someone similar. Foxy was a bit round, little thing kept evading the Avox caretakers and dipped into the kibble while his master was in the Arena. Phil saw the frustration in Nick's face, the skepticism in Daryl's, and the confusion in Firo's so he decided to volunteer for this one.

"It's timing but it's also...here, let me show you."

Like hell he'll spill the secrets of the arcade. He'd rather be a show-off for once in his life than "betray" the knowledge he had. Playing these sorts of games and enjoying them crashed a wave of nostalgia into Phil as every stack landed in place, right up to the top. He knows the speeds the lights turn on, and the sneaky bitch in the last one is the worst but...it's just a matter of keeping track of the two lights before it hits the center.

"Anyone want a portable videogame console?" he asked sheepishly.

Nick was ready to deliver a quick apology to Daryl but not before he narrowly manages to catch the deer plush the other tosses at him. He stares at the plush with its heavily exaggerated large eyes and isn't sure what to make of it. His jean pockets aren't exactly ideal for carrying anything bulky, so he's holding onto it for now. Good to know that Daryl was only kidding.

"It is about the timing," he tells Firo with his arms crossed, plushie in one hand. "And it is rigged."

Yeah, still very bitter. He never got past where Phillip is now. He's tempting to raise his hand but keeps his arms folded.

"Dunno much about the console games they got 'round here." Although he did play one months ago...a fighting game with sprites of the child tributes, including Clementine. He'd rather not see anything like that again.

At first, Daryl watches Phillip work from the corner of his eyes, mostly paying attention to the crane game he's still intent on clearing out. But as Phillip advances in the stacker game with apparent ease, Daryl's focus begins to shift, until he's soon turned to fully watch the 'pro' working his magic. Leaning a hip against the crane game territorially, arms crossed over his chest, he looks duly impressed. And privately glad he isn't the only cheater.

"Not bad, hoss." At the video game console offer, he glances between Firo and Nick, expecting one of them to want it. Well, Nick sort of looks like he does, even though he isn't speaking up. Daryl wouldn't really know what to do with a console himself, beyond handing it to Rick and getting a laugh out of his attempts to play it, or giving it to Vivi, who might actually enjoy it?

"That reminds me," he says as he turns back to his crane game, "Vivi's birthday's comin' up. Was thinkin' of cashin' in that pizza offer you made me. You'd all be invited, too. Pizza party'n all." Even if they don't yet know Vivi, he doubts the kid'd mind. The more the merrier, and all that, plus bonding over food seems to be something Vivi's grandpa would have liked to do for the kid. Since he obviously isn't able to, Daryl's willing to step up and do what he can.

Firo's eyes bounce from Phil to Daryl as he tries to keep track of their respective movements. Fascinating as it is, it's enough to make a guy feel overstimulated.

He shakes his head to refuse the offer, smiling in amusement. "I've got absolutely no idea what that means."

You kids and your weird future things.

Firo doesn't know this Vivi, but his expression sobers a little anyway. Though he's been told about how the Arenas used to run, he still thinks this is a hell of a place for a kid.

As if Phil doesn't know the look of utter betrayal that comes with these machines. He passed the videogame console towards Nick as he responded to Daryl's question, "Really? Shoot, I add in a cake for that if you want? You don't have to worry about that sorta thing!"

It's a remnant of his old job, before everything happened at Freddy's, to organize and make birthday parties while the animatronics entertained the guests. For as brief that period was, he remembered it fondly and any chance he could do someone a favor like that.

"I mean...if you and Rick don't have something planned, sorry."

Nick lets out a little "oof" as he catches the box for the console. He scratches the back of his neck with his free hand while looking at Firo as if to ask, Did it look that obvious that I sort of wanted it? He usually keeps a better poker face than that too. Oh well. He'll thank Phillip in the form of a drink later.

He regains his composure some, eyes on Daryl now. "Does he got other friends his age to be there?" Because Nick has had some birthdays as a kid where friends of friends were present and it made him uncomfortable. Or shy. Whatever. It's a hard question for him to ask since Vivi's friends may or may not be tributes themselves. Was he friends with Clementine, maybe? Shit, just do what Luke would say and try not to think about it.

"I just don't want it to be weird for the kid, y'know?"

No one else from Vivi's world is in Panem as far as anyone knows, which rather limits the potential guest list for a birthday party. Nick has a point, and Daryl's expression falls slightly as he considers the question. Maybe he'd gotten too ahead of himself with his plans.

"Maybe other kids from the Youth Programme," he guesses, and absently rubs his chin. "S'pose I should ask what he wants instead of tryin' to surprise him." Vivi seems kind toward pretty much everyone, and generally only has nice things to say about them, but Daryl isn't sure whether the kid is especially close to any of his schoolmates.

"You guys ain't uninvited or nothin', and a cake'd be real nice. I appreciate it. Don't got much experience with birthdays or parties," he admits, trying to mask his embarrassment by focusing on the crane game. His knowledge of what constitutes a typical birthday party comes entirely from hearing about others' experiences.

"...Think I'm gonna need a bag or somethin' soon," he says as he adds another plush toy to the growing pile. He's about halfway through clearing out the machine by this point. Never question a Dixon's dedication to beating pointless challenges.

Mob birthdays tend to be not exactly kid-friendly, but seeing how much these guys care, Firo decides he has to at least try and help out. "Some people did birthdays back at our place. Some a' the guys wanted to do a drink for every year a' their age, but Sena said she'd get completely bought out because they're all so old."

Wait, a kid's birthday. Right. He scratches his head. "...Sorry, I guess that doesn't really help here. But, uh, maybe you can ask somebody in his District if he's brought anyone over?"

A bag he can't help with, but he does laugh at the haul that's been amassed.

"Hey now, it'll be nice and tame...so long as the Capitol decides it to be so," Phillip washed his hands with that aspect of their lives. The Capitol dictated who lived and who died, and in this case, the degree of how wild or childish Vivi's birthday party should be.

He's already walking over to get the bag and for a moment, he feels like he's in a happier time.

"You guys keep this up, they'll have to restock soon!" Gray laughed and assured Daryl, "Time and date and I'll have a set-up ready for you and Rick in no time."

There's one game in particular at the arcade whose row of brightly coloured machines and childish, dopey looking mascots are rather at odds with the level of competitive violence it seems to goad its players into. Unfortunately, Daryl hasn't yet noticed the latter when he points out the racing game to the others.

"Dibs on the dragon," he quickly calls as he slides into one of the gaudy seats with an attached steering wheel, and wastes no time in selecting said character, who may or may not actually be a dragon. Could be a dinosaur. Close enough. There's limited options with no duplicates allowed, and getting stuck with one of the less cool-looking characters just won't cut it, obviously.

This is a game Nick most definitely isn't going to say no towards. Sure, it's a little...different from the one he would always play back home when he was a teenager, but the concept is familiar enough for him to feel comfortable. He waits for the others to follow and looks over at Firo when he takes his seat. "It's a racin' game. It's just like drivin', 'cept you can grab shit and throw 'em at your opponents."

That's the gist of it anyway. And for this, it looks like the button to use said items is where the horn would be on the steering wheel.

When Nick turns back to his screen, he realizes he had accidentally pressed the pedal to select the generic Princess of Whateverland, pink dress and diamond tiara and all.

"I ain't gonna show mercy for this one." He says as if he meant to do that, although whoever caught the initial surprise on his face knows that isn't the case.

Firo picks his way over, all agog at the bright colors and strange characters. He nearly laughs as he settles in with Daryl and Nick. "So you play at makin' traffic accidents?"

Firo doesn't drive, but he's pretty sure the world doesn't need too many more of those.

Just barely holding back a snort at Nick's misfortune, Firo fiddles with the controls until he lands on some mushroom... thing.

Still better than being frilly, right?

The last time Phillip saw one of these, it had a plumber and there was a lot of rage involved but even he knew this was fun. "I'll pick the carpenter, for nostalgia's sake." In fact, pretty much everything they've done felt like nostalgia for the Phone Guy but he had to give props to this. "Not quite! You make sure your opponents don't make it into the finish line..." Well it's best to put it in practice.

"Spiffy graphics!" he cheered for a moment, like an eager puppy at a new toy, "I'm not much of a console type of guy, they cost a fortune back in '93 but this? This I can get behind."

"Whatever you say, Princess," Daryl retorts with a poorly disguised snicker. "Dragons eat princesses, y'know." It's meant as an innocuous jest, and it takes several long moments for the double meaning to even occur to him. When it does, he does his best to hide his slightly abashed smirk and focuses on the game screen.

There's no telling what this specific racing game entails (there's a tutorial, which is skipped), but he's confident he and Firo will both work it out as they go, since they seem to be the only ones new to it.

"Shroom guy, Woody, y'all ready too?"

The racing course is selected — a brightly coloured, winding rainbow track seemingly floating in the void of space — and they're off. Well, some of them. It takes a second for Daryl to figure out the pedals, then he's soon back in the game, his little racing avatar swerving wildly along the road. Somehow, he doesn't fall off the side.

"Close. You make traffic accidents for the other players with whatever shit you grab. And finish the race." Finishing the race is all Nick wanted to do when he first picked up Mario Kart, but playing with his friends after school and getting into bickering arguments time after time after time...he's come to accept that sabotaging other racers is exactly what the developers want them to do.

And yes, getting first place.

Nick rolls his eyes at Daryl's comment, only to glance back at the man at the added bit about eating princesses. He doesn't say anything to that and just concentrates on starting the race.

"Dragons can't drive," he remarks without looking away from the screen. He doesn't get the little speed boost that would come at pressing the pedal in time, but a smooth start is as good as any.

"How're you guys doin' over there?" He asks over to Firo and Phillip as he sets a banana peel down the path.

Firo nods to both Nick and Daryl's questions. Between the advice the more experienced players are sharing, it doesn't sound too hard. "Screw people up, finish the race. Got it." Hey, maybe messing things up for other people will be easier for him, considering he can't drive. As foolish as he pretends these childish things are to him, by now he's so busy enjoying the games that he doesn't even think about that.

And they're off! Well, mostly. The graphics are spiffy indeed, so spiffy that Firo's simply distracted by the wow factor and completely forgets what he's doing. "Wait a minute, which one's me?"

That would be the one repeatedly bumping into a wall right back at the start.

Phil was quick to gently pull the wheel on Firo's seat to get him out of the wall, to at least give his friend a better chance at competing. "It's just like driving an actual car! Just pretend and it'll come easier if you think about it like that," he explained, also wowed by the overwhelming advancements in graphics and gameplay...from pixels to now, it was a leap!

"I'm fine but no promises, I ain't winning this time around." Not to say Gray won't try but he knows Nick and Daryl have a decade on him.

Daryl may be from the future, relatively speaking, but he has very little experience with video games, having never owned any consoles as a kid, nor visited any arcades. But he had gotten pretty good at platformers like the original Mario Bros. games once upon a time, thanks to one of Merle's drug buddies letting him play it while they were getting high.

This inexperience with shoddy driving mechanics begins to show very quickly. Running straight into the banana peel Nick left down, it sends Daryl's avatar spinning right off the racing track and into space. After getting fished out and set back on course, he proceeds to somehow swerve off the track on most turns, without even having the excuse of a stupid banana peel to blame. He's cussing a blue streak by the twelfth or so time.

"Fuck! This dumbass dragon musta dropped a metric shit-ton of acid before climbing behind the wheel." There's a difference between driving drunk and driving high, and he's had the misfortune of experiencing both as a passenger. He does manage to finish a lap, at least, and that's when he decides to switch up his game. Instead of going purely for speed, he starts collecting item boxes and tossing all manner of shells, bananas, and bombs at the other players, figuring he shouldn't be the only one to suffer.

... All in good fun, of course.

"The guy you ended up pickin'. The shroom guy." Nick had a decent talk with Firo about his time period but if there was any moment to fully convince Nick that this kid is from the "old days", this is it. "It ain't like drivin' an actual car," Nick says with a laugh, "But close enough." A small smile appears on his face as he watches Phillip help Firo out. He narrowly misses a turn that could've lead to the princess falling if he had kept going straight, side glancing at Daryl now with a smirk. Based on the little cheer the princess just let out, Daryl must've driven over the banana peel. (It really is only funny when it happens to other people.)

"Remember who's behind the wheel man." Nick says as the princess drives past the dragon for a second lap. He doesn't need to do any taunting, the princess has that covered by winking and blowing a kiss to the other drivers. It doesn't last though as he suddenly gets hit by not one, but two of the shells, sending the princess upwards twice over. The second one knocks her off the track.

"Fuck!!" He curses when the other computer controlled characters whip right past him as he is fished back onto the track. Nick speeds up immediately, inner repressed rage from childhood frustration coming out in full force.

It's on now.

After the information he's been given about how to play, Firo's almost surprised at Phil's help. "Thanks. Don't be so nice, okay?"

He blinks at Daryl's comment as he weaves around some items instead of picking them up. "...Is that a thing that happens in these games?"

"It's not being nice, it's making the competition even, all right?" Phil winked at Firo and resumed his race. As soon as he grabbed an item box though...

"What's this purple shell thing?" he asked, unaware of a certain blue counterpart and destroyer of friendships. Phil died before he could see the devastating effects of the Blue Shell and so he fired it, mostly out of curiosity and not really comfortable with the color itself.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

In many ways, they'll miss the good old days

Time Calamity

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Ultimate Big Punch Deluxe

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Two on two air hockey

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I've wanted to use this icon so much more often

what a beautiful thread

:D

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Stackers + crane machines

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Super Kart Racer, AKA Destroyer of Friendships

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fffff I lost the tags for this post :|