My mother, armed with a habit of hounding deals, often visited garage sales and thrift stores. Like most players, I’d loved Pokemon since my youth, and often played the original games. As time passed, however, people learned to hack these games, and some made bootlegs to sell. One day, while hunting for sales at random, shady places, my mother came home and handed me a strange-looking cartridge. It read “Pokemon: Chaos Black.” That’s how I started on the path of self-destruction. Ironic, as self-destruct is a vicious attack some Pokemon learn. I came to learn the shoddily-made video game, or hack, was fake, and that there were tons of them. Abundant in places such as pawn shops, my mom ran into quite a few and bought them all for smokin’ deals. I played them diligently, but to be honest, few were very good. One day, my parent brought home a very different hack- good quality, but in a horribly beaten cartridge. Surprisingly, it was for the GameBoy Color, whilst most hacks were for the GameBoy Advanced. I didn’t question it, or the fact that it had been demolished at some point, or the fact that it had nothing on the black shell aside for the word ‘POKEMON’ scribbled across the sticker-less cover. I just popped it into my SP and played.
The game skipped the intro, going straight to the Continue/New Game/Options screen. I figured it was a drawback of the hacking, or done on purpose to leave me wondering what game the hack was based on. Many players, myself included, tend to check the old save data out of curiosity. I felt happy upon seeing that you could continue and selected it, eager to get a sneak peak at the world I would enter. The screen flashed, revealing a sprite of Kris the color of Gold. I assumed I’d found Crystal hack, but wondered why Kris was red. I didn’t recognize the terrain but passed it off- nothing too abnormal for a hack. I pressed start and shuffled through the options, opening the trainer card first. I immediately noticed the person’s play time- 66:66. I fidgeted uncomfortably in my seat, a tad disturbed by the number. Ignoring it for now, I examined the rest of the card. 666 Pokemon had been seen. I wrinkled my brow in confusion, knowing it wasn’t possible. Even if someone hacked in more Pokemon, I doubted the GameBoy Color system could handle 666 of the creatures. The previous owner had obtained all of the badges, and the regular sprite for Kris stood proudly, but red. I briefly considered the fact that the color might represent blood… and pushed the thought from my mind. Most hacks, to my knowledge, were perfectly innocent, staying true to the real games’ nature. Besides, that’s all it was- a game… right?
I nodded to confirm my contemplated, scrolling up to check the Pokemon. To my surprise, there were five Unown, and a single Houndoom. I clicked on the Unown’s status page. A ‘W’ Unown wriggled and let out it’s cry, but it sounded… deeper, sadder. I passed it off as my imagination, knowing the game got under my skin with it’s creepy nature. Tapping the down button, I saw the next Unown- an ‘R’. The third was an ‘O’, then came what I guessed was an ‘N’. Finally, a ‘G’. I spelled and re-spelled the gibberish in my head, noticing that they spelled ‘WRONG’. My eyes flickered back to the game and I shuffled, unnerved. It felt as though the game had responded to my thoughts, saying, “You think it’s just a game? You’re wrong.” I scolded myself, refusing to amuse the idea that the game had read my mind and responded. Whoever hacked this must be batshit insane. He wanted to get to me.
I pressed down again, the familiar Houndoom sprite popping up. Rather than the familiar cry, a shrill shriek issued from my speakers. I dropped the SP, clamping my hands over my ears until it stopped. I cautiously removed them, moving at the pace of a snail. What was that? I panicked, Some imitation of a scream?! I lifted the console up as if I were holding something dirty- kept it far, far from my face. I observed the screen with wide, fearful eyes. The Houndoom seemed average. It possessed a mediocre moveset, all Fire and Dark Type attacks. The male was at level one hundred and nicknamed ‘LUCIFER’ like that, in all caps. I hadn’t noticed before, distracted by the strange Unown. The name bugged me, along with those ominous 6’s back on the trainer card. I automatically tried to shut the game off, ready to abandon it.
“What the heck?!” I yelled, then power button dulling but the picture remaining. I mashed buttons, exiting the Pokemon screen and the start screen. I walked a few steps in each direction, then tried Start again. Everything worked fine, but I forgetfully neglected the Select button. I flicked the switch on my SP on and off, hoping it would reset the game. I turned it back off when it didn’t. I finally resorted to pressing Select, which made the screen go blank and another high-pitched noise come from the speakers. This time I prevented myself from dropping the game, but huddled up, shuddering with fear. What demented hack did my mother pick up?!
I examined the screen, which returned to it’s previous state, only with a text box that read “YOU used GUN!” I narrowed my eyes suspiciously, recalling a blank space where the trainer’s name should be on the trainer card. And wasn’t Select to use a Key Item quickly? There definitely wasn’t a Key Item named gun in a normal game! I wanted to facepalm myself for my stupidity. Obviously, this game wasn’t normal. I felt torn between calling it a bastardized hack or a cursed game. I smashed a chubby finger against the A Button, another line of text appearing. “HE DIED!”
I bit my lip and gripped the SP tighter, with sweaty palms. Gathering my courage, I pushed Kris forward, and after a few steps, I arrived at an NPC. He was color red, with blotches of red on the tiles around him. With a rush of horror, I knew what the game implied. I had killed him with my gun. “I killed him,” I admitted aloud. Tears threatened to leak out of my eyes at this point, the game pushing me into major distress.
Suddenly, I realized why the cartridge had been so smashed. Ripping it out of my SP, I saw, with no surprise, that the image was still there. Engraved in the machine. I scowled, going outside to find a sturdy hammer to destroy the twisted game. A few days after the deed was done, I googled. And googled. And googled. I stumbled upon scary stories called ‘creepypasta’, and then, Pokepasta like the ones you read on this Tumblr. I read of Lost Silver, and thought maybe the hack I’d been given was some sort of rip-off, what with the five Unown. Still, the references to Lucifer and the gun were new and frightening. I can understand reading these stories for fun, but personally, I wish I never had to live through my own ‘creepypasta’. After wards, I felt a little dead inside, as though part of my childhood had been cruelly shattered.
This is my story. I felt I had to tell it. Otherwise, I’d forever haunted by the-
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