Tune of Anxious Yearning: The Complete Driggersverse

All behind us now. Please let me rest. I'm so tired.
– ♥, Nabocchan

I. THE MELANCHOLY OF CODY DRIGGERS

Ostwärts schweift der Blick; Westwärts streicht das Schiff.

               Hello tomodachis, do you like anime? If you do you'll love this. I'm Let's Player, Role Player and Playa' (jk lol xD) Cody and I wrote this guest article out of nerd pride! Nabocchan posted it for me. Enjoy~

               Hello. My name is Cody Driggers, but you can call me Cody Uzumaki Kurosaki. For fourteen years I've enjoyed a carefree existence, training in my backyard with the most powerful sword in history – the katana, the soul of the samurai, capable of slicing boulders in two. But that carefree existence came to end a few months ago, when Phil came.
               Phil is my mom's asshole boyfriend. He likes to pretend that he knows me and ruffle my hair, and it completely messes up the sick ronin ponytail I've been working on. I considered using my katana, which I've named Kurokorosukatana, Black Deathblade, to vanquish him, but my sensei told me not to. My sensei is Steve, a seventeen-year-old I met through an anime meetup. He says he's one-seventh Japanese, and he's the only one who understands me, besides Sakura.
               Sakura is my waifu (wife for you gaijins). She's super hot and nice, and she likes to watch me play Final Fantasy XIII. I bought a figure of her, and a damakura (hugging pillow). She was flattered. I got her at an anime con (that's short for convention but if you didn't know that you're just a baka which means idiot in Japanese). Sometimes we laugh at how much of bakas everyone else is, like when I came to school in my sick Kirito cosplay and no one got it.
               Anyway, so Sakura and I were discussing how to get rid of Phil when I realized: I just had to use the Death Note. That's like a notebook, but when you write people's name in it, they die. So I looked up a tutorial on DeviantArt and covered up my math notes to look like one, but my mom found out and got mad. She doesn't get that math is for dumb stuff like accounting and I won't need it when I go to Japan and become a mangaka (that's someone who draws manga, Japanese comic books).
               I've already developed crazy drawing skills. My art teacher was super impressed with the trace of Black Rock Shooter I did, and I upload my chibi comics to Tumblr where they get at least ten notes apiece. I have a D in art, but that's because the whole class is about crazy blue dudes who painted boring pictures of naked ladies. They aren't even sexy.
               Phil tried to talk to me about my grades once.
               “Hey, buddy,” he said. “I just saw your report card and I wanted to talk. I'm concerned that you might not be doing your best in math.”
               “Oh yeah?” I said, in a really cool way like Light Yagami, “Well, I'm concerned that you're not my real dad.”
               It was a really good burn. Phil got up and left like a bitch too. Later I heard them talking about me. My mom was crying so I knew I was doing good; that meant I was a real man, when a woman at home had to cry about my suffering.
               “I just don't get it,” she said. “He spends all day watching that stuff – I mean, is it even appropriate? I found a folder on his computer with a bunch of pictures of this naked dog-girl. And even worse, he tried to hide it by calling it 'IMPORTANT BUSINESS FAX PHOTOS'.”
I couldn't contain my rage anymore. I burst in to defend Holo.
               “She's a wolf, you baka,” I screamed.
               I was grounded again, probably because Phil told her to. Nobody in my family appreciates my talent. That's why when I go to Japan I'm gonna change my name to Uzumaki Kurosaki for real, and get three girlfriends who all think I'm awesome. One girl on the Crunchyroll forums said she would be my girlfriend if I bought her a subscription, and her picture was this totally hot beach babe, so I figure I'm making good progress.
               Sometimes when I can't sleep I pull out my katana and practice my moves. I've got a lot of cool moves, like a spin attack and a reverse-grip attack, and I like to name them in Japanese as I go. Like I came up with this really powerful strike I call the Kamiringokawa Slash, and I'm pretty sure it could split at least a moderately-sized boulder in two. Attacks are all about building up your spiritual force – your ki – before you do them. I still can't believe my mom let me order this sword off Amazon; it was only $40 too. She's pretty cool sometimes, when she's not being a stupid kamisama. Someone told me that meant something super rude in Japanese but I won't translate it ;).
               I've been looking for disciples to spread my ki skills to. But Steve said he was already busy with his anime club, and I don't really know anyone else except for Louis, who wanted to join but I told him his ki was too weak so I couldn't accept him. I can't wait to enter high school so I can join an anime club like Steve. I bet it's just like the clubs in Haruhi Suzumaya, where I'll find people who appreciate how wacky and random I am.
               Sometimes people try to be my friend but they do dumb stuff like listen to stupid music or don't know about anime, or watch shit anime, so I tell 'em, “fuck off”! But sometimes I'm lonely, too. Being a middle-schooler is hard. It's not fair at all. All I want are cool friends, but everyone's an idiot so I just stay with my RP groups. It's because I don't play sports that I don't have a ton of friends. You see, everyone likes assholes so smart people like myself are discriminated against.
               But one day I'm gonna change that. I figure I can use these skills to save the day soon, when a murderer attacks the school or something, and everyone will see how cool I am. Tracy will finally stop friendzoning me, and Phil will be all “Hey, buddy, can you teach me your moves”, but I'll be like “No”. That's why I have to train so hard. Sometimes I'm even sweating at the end. My nekos watch a lot of the time – I have two nekos and one dog – and they seem really impressed. I think one of them, Tubbers, is actually the reincarnation of a death god. Whenever I talk to him about it he understands and meows and everything.
               I figure I've pretty much got my life figured out. Once I ordered a mousepad all the way from Japan on eBay – it was only $30 before shipping – and it came with a handwritten note. It says “[Kanji], Thank you very much for your order. Please consider us for your future anime and comics business.”
               The bottom part is in English but one day I'm gonna be able to read the top too. I traced the lines and now I use them as a signature on all my anime drawings, so people know it's legit Japanese stuff. I figure when I begin drawing real manga I'll already be established there thanks to that signature.
               What's that? Oh, Sakura wants me to go to bed now. I should have a new Let's Play uploaded to YouTube in a week, so catch me there xD. Until then, it's Cody signing out – oyasumi gozaimasu.

II. PAY TO WIN: AN EPIC IN TWO PARTS

Zur Rache, König!

Duldest du diese Schmach?

PART I – By Aleximander

               My arrival was signaled by trumpets. A chorus of angels followed. A fitting ceremony for I, the King of Angels. I logged in at my usual spot, my throne room.

               The room resembled that of a cathedral. It was open, its roof scraping the very heavens. The walls were of cobbled stone, each richly carved into delicate patterns. Pillars held golden statues molded into my image, each in a different pose. All were dignified. Red carpet led from the large oaken double door to my chair. The chair itself was fashioned from ebony and shimmered like silver. Such was the lavishness of my domain.

               Yes indeed. I am the great Aleximander, Commander of the 32nd Squadron. The Vanguard of Heaven. The King of Angels.

               I giggled. I always did that upon seeing my vast success. I was unbeatable in this world.

My world in question was the free to play MMO Serenade. To haters it's a game where you 'pay to win'. And indeed, to be the very best you must be willing to sacrifice real world money. Honestly, though? I never 'got' those kinds of people. It's a game. And to be the best you have to pay the best.

               No matter. THOSE people didn't play. Couldn't play. They had yet to transcend mortal bounds as I did.

               The sound of my doors creaking open interrupted my thoughts. A scrawny man entered. He was clad in oily rags and above his head hovered his name. MASTRB8R420X. Next to it was the digit 1, indicating his level.

               "Good morning." I said politely. "Welcome to my throne room, Master Beighter Four Hundred Twenty Ex. How may I help you?"

               "lol u look liek a shit" He said in chat, opting out of using his microphone. "ur mom dress u?"

               "Watch your tongue, knave. I am Aleximander, King of A-"

               Before I knew it, he had crossed the gap to me. Ah. An assassin. I drew my gilded battle axe and met his diagonal slash with a well-timed Synchro Block. To my surprise however the weapon far outclassed mine and broke my defense easily. Three second paralysis. The punishment for a failed attack. He shoved his sword into my gullet. The world went black. My three hp bars were drained instantly.

               "lol get gud nub" he typed into chat. I gasped for breath. How? How did he do it? I was Aleximander. Undefeated in battle.

GAME OVER

               Silence. Like awakening from a dream. I noticed the frame of my monitor, heard birds chirping in the distance. A man was mowing his lawn. My hands were at their lap. Numb. My whole body was numb.

               I swiveled my chair around. The apartment I rented was bare. Boxes of cereal and tap water functioned as my sustenance. I had no furniture. No tv. I sold it all. It was the only way I could transcend. The only way I could become the greatest.

               "Why?"

               My voice echoed through the halls. He had beaten me. He had outpayed and outsmarted me. And now he held the throne.

               I checked the mirror. First time in several months. My beard trailed to my nipples. My body was pale, my bones poking through my flesh.

               I turned away, tears in my eyes.

               "Dammit, that Master Beighter Four Hundred Twenty Ex! He took everything from me! EVERYTHING!!"

               They say that the night is darkest before dawn. That night my dreams were fitful. I awoke at dawn drenched in sweat. Glancing at the rising sun, I vowed to kill him. Not in the game, such a punishment was ill-fitting. No, I vowed to kill him in real life so that he could know true shame.

               Thankfully for me the internet had the tools for me to find him. The database that held player information was admin use only, but I was considered a moderator for my guild forum. It granted me full access. There it was. 'MASTRB8R420X'. Real name Cody Driggers. Age fourteen. My target.

               But to truly kill him, to make his life meaningless under my boot, I had to gain more power. I had to take the mantle of King in real life to destroy the false king who usurped my digital throne.

               Indeed, I had to become strong.

               My training began that day. I ripped off a piece of wood from my bedframe and began beating myself with it. This would dull my senses, allowing me to soldier any blow.

               Bloodied and bruised, I continued my grim blows. I drank water but ate little and slept none. Hours turned to days. Days to weeks. My body ached but I knew I had to continue. The angels urged me on, becoming louder the longer I stayed awake and denied food. They knew my training was working, and they goaded me on.

               By the end I knew I had reached full potential. Time no longer had meaning and the angels were practically screaming in my ears.

               I called to them.

               "I CAN HEAR YOU! YOUR HEAVENS HAVE SPLIT WIDE TO ALLOW ME, ALEXIMANDER, YOUR DISCIPLE, TO ROAM FREE AMONG YOUR HALLS! HEED ME WELL, LORD, FOR I HAVE BECOME EVEN STRONGER THAN YOU! I HAVE USURPED YOUR THRONE AND AM NOW CROWNED AGAIN THE RIGHTFUL KING OF ANGELS!"

               Ah yes. But the demons of hell knew already that I was the true threat. Already they knock. Two demons at my door. They disguised themselves as enforcers of the law but I knew their true face. I broke my stick over my knee, then stabbed them in the heart. Weaklings. They never saw me coming.

               "Plus ten experience" I whispered.

               I dragged them inside, shutting the door behind me. It was a convincing disguise. I stripped one of his uniform and put it on. Fit like a glove. They were powerful demons indeed to have such skill at deceiving. For any normal human the blood of a demon would be poison, but for one of my caliber it would bolster my already near-limitless power. I feasted on their bodies. The fresh blood ran down my face like a fountain, and the flesh was the tastiest thing I had in many moons. The taste of power.

               Instantly my HP was upgraded from one bar to three. And from the pockets of one of the demons I pilfered an Archane Pistol. A fitting weapon for the future ruler of mankind. In addition I bottled some of the demon blood for my journey.

               With my newfound power I knew Cody 'Master Beighter' Driggers was no match for me. I glanced at my discarded information sheet. His address was '28 Line Street'. Two blocks away. I grinned. My lips cracked as they parted.

PART II – By Nabocchan

               “How was school today?”, Phil asked – stupidly.

               “It sucked,” I responded cooly.

---

               Some girl I don't even know had tried to sit with me at lunch, when I was playing Cardfight!! Vanguard alone with myself as the opponent again. I kicked ass at both sides, though.

               “Oh, cool, I really like trading card games,” she said. “Is that Cardfight?”

               I smirked and did the glasses thing that really cool anime characters are always doing, when they put a finger on the bridge and let the lenses shine. I rotated my face around for a few seconds trying to catch the sun, then deigned to respond.

               “Look,” I said. “I don't have the time or patience to deal with you right now. Besides, I bet you don't even know who the timid yet talented junior high student is who owns the powerful card Blaster Blade”.

               But before I finished, she had already left. Probably to go drool over some asshole who flexed constantly. It's not easy being a true intellect.

               I stared at my favorite card, and Yggdrasil Maiden, Elaine's eyes met mine in a smoldering gaze.

               “Tell me, Elaine-chan,” I sighed. “Why can't I find love?”

               On the way home from school I saw someone following me home, too. He was a police officer, but he had a messy look and his uniform was splattered with dark stains. I realized quickly that he had probably seen my sick cards in school and planned to steal them. I reached for my katana before realizing that I had left it at home. My stupid mom wouldn't let me slip the powerful blade into my backpack, no matter how many times I told her it was necessary for self-defense.

               A true samurai never fights without his katana. Even though I had mastered the Lone Wolf Double Crescent Kick and could easily split the would-be thief in half with my ki alone, it wouldn't be gentlemanly. I'm a pretty refined dude, so I had to strategically conceal myself with my ninja talents.

               I planned to climb a telephone pole and lurk at the top, but I hadn't accounted for the weight of my school shit or my stupid American jeans. So instead, I used the Naruto Sprint, with my arms behind me and my full weight propelling me forward.

               The baka behind me must have pulled a forbidden curse jutsu. My legs didn't work right and I was tripped, but luckily I used my diving roll technique so it still looked really cool. I skinned my knee though, which was totally lame. I almost cried, but I suppressed the rage, converting it to pure ki. I was ready to blast my opponent, but when I turned around to unleash my spirit beam he was gone.

               “The cowardly fool must have fled. Come, gaijin, and taste my blade”, I challenged aloud. But no one came, so I gave up and went home.

---

               “Oh, I'm sorry to hear that,” said Phil assholishly, about my school day sucking.

               “I'm sorry to hear you,” I shot back – just then, the doorbell rang. I was sure it was my rival, so I ran upstairs to fetch Kurokorosukatana, my cursed blade. Sakura was waiting for me.

               “Just you wait,” I told her. “Tonight we will celebrate the victory of a man who has drawn blood.”

               I fluffed her up, too. Just then, two loud pops made me jump. I recognized immediately the sound of an Archane Pistol, just like in a game I was playing. I screamed a war scream as my voice cracked in outrage.

               Fifteen minutes later, I charged downstairs to confront the challenger, katana drawn. Phil was wrapped around the police dude, pinning him down. He looked totally gay. I could hear more police sirens too, probably to arrest him for attacking an officer like a dumbass.

               “I practiced Krav Maga for fifteen years,” Phil said with a wink and a grin.

               “Yeah, and I practiced Grab Bag-a. Nice made-up words, idiot,” I said, totally calling him on his bullshit.

               Then I noticed that the cop on the floor was still struggling to escape. He was reaching for a gun all the way across the room, which isn't honorable to use in combat at all, so I had to show him my true power. I had to use my moves.

               I rotated Kurokorosukatana slowly, gathering my ki.

               “What are you doing – ”, Phil asked like a baka.

               I executed the Kamiringokawa Slash, slashing the sword down in a perfect arc. It glimmered in the afternoon sun as it lunged at my rival's neck, just like in an anime. I closed my eyes – it was my way of being respectful toward the dude getting chopped in half.

               “Ow,” were my opponent's last words.

               When I opened my eyes again, I saw that the officer had somehow survived the attack and was rubbing his head. The blade of my katana had fallen off the handle, too. It was total bullshit.

               As the defeated cop was dragged away by his police brethren, he craned his neck to face me. His eyes were bloodshot and wide and his whole face was covered in bulging veins – he must have still been reeling from the raw physical power of my assault.

               “Damn you, Master Beighter Four Hundred Twenty Ex, you've foiled me again!”, he screamed. But I hardly noticed. I was still staring in horror at my shattered blade.

               “Thanks, Phil,” I shouted as I retreated to my room. His stupid gaijin presence must have made the room's aura impure, so the katana self-destructed so it wouldn't give in to its curse and steal everyone's soul. I shed a single manly tear at its sacrifice, then more manly tears, burying my face in Sakura's sweet bosom.

               I had won, but at what cost?

               Cody-san, I pictured Sakura saying. But I wasn't sure if it was in my head or not. It could've been her spirit too, you know? Sometimes there's no way of knowing. Anyway, she said, Cody-san, sometimes a warrior must make sacrifices. It's like, part of the samurai code of bukkake. But you saved Phil even though he's an asshole – that's just like you, protecting everyone and shit – and defeated the evil officer trying to steal your sweet cards, so you're still rad and totally hot.

               I nodded in understanding. It was true. I was still rad and totally hot.

III. FRICKLE FRACKLE ONLINE

Hier wütet der Tod!

Nichts andres, König, ist hier zu holen:

willst du ihn kiesen, so komm!

   In the times of old, we told tales forged of our deepest fears and greatest hopes, entrusting to the winds of fate and sentiment of progeny the hearts our decaying bodies could no longer house. These legends saturated cultures, a peculiar and deeply human form of immortality, and so our imaginations served as the repositories for the breaths of ancient souls.

   Today, Frickle Frackle Xpress writes of anime, of a weeb named Cody Driggers and of his rival, the detestable (fictionalization of) Aleximander. The sands of time may be unkind to young Cody, but the teats of meme are yet warm to our ever-parched lips. And so, dear reader, we suck. We suck hard. And we implore you to suck equally as hard, and accept the rich meme-milk down your throat... And into your soul.

– ♥, Nabocchan

   Aleximander, Commander of the 32nd Squadron, the Vanguard of Heaven, the King of Angels, finished off his last swig of mouthwash, screwed the cap back on, and pegged the bottle at a passing car.

                “Fucking nanny state bullshit,” Aleximander muttered, “can’t even get my 50 ounces of Thunderbird forgiveness. Goddamn Sundays.”

                But it was all going to be okay. Even though it was a rainy night and the methyl salicylate was already working its awful, awful magic on his throat and stomach, it was all going to be okay—because the Braincrowave was coming out at midnight, and he had been living outside for two months to take his place at the head of the line.

                True to its name, the Braincrowave was a console designed to microwave the user’s brain, developed after extensive research pointing to the human brain as the main impediment to player enjoyment of many video games. Aleximander didn’t know quite how it worked, and he didn’t care; the launch title Frickle Frackle Online had scored 10/10 on IGN, and he was going to fry his cranium until he would rate it the same.

                “Hey,” remarked a passing kid, “I saw that guy on the news!”

                Aleximander had to think fast. He grabbed the nearest rock, smashed it into his own face, and pretended to seize on the ground until the kid was dragged away.

                Smooth. Yet another unwitting plebian bested by the King of Angels.

                Anyway, he didn’t think about the whole jail thing anymore. Wiping the blood from his nose, Aleximander grinned: he was on the precipice of a new world.

- - -

                Mike looked up from his spreadsheet, eyes burning and etched with accounts receivable. The clock had hardly moved.

                Another Wednesday, another eight hours of hell. Not the burning kind, but the frozen wasteland of Dante’s Inferno; a plain devoid of life, devoid of hope. And it had become five days of his week; the other two were spent forgetting as much as possible.

                Mike reached for his coffee cup, only for his fingers to brush against his issued mousepad. He groped blindly again before looking down to find his plastic desk clean and professional as ever. The coffee machine had been broken that morning, denying him the only pleasure he still craved.

                “Uh, Mike, do you have a moment?”

                Mike swiveled around to face his manager, a rotund man fond of football, his boys and a thermos full of whiskey. This uberdad was holding a spreadsheet, his ample face contorted into a stern look.

                “It says here that you took an eight-minute bathroom break yesterday. Now, do you think that’s acceptable?”

                Mike wanted nothing less than to discuss the state of his bowel movements. Computerized tracking of employees struck him as an oddity, something society would never have requested and yet a signature product of its productive apparatus.

                “Well, uh,” Mike began. “No. Sorry.”

                The manager did his best to simulate concern, denoted by a slight downward pull of his features.

                “Look, I don’t want you to think I’m being too strict. But that time adds up!”

                It was later that day when Mike found himself in the car in the rain at seven fucking o’clock because he just wanted some goddamn food and his fridge was empty again. His radio wasn’t working properly and though he pleaded with the damn thing, voice recognition wouldn’t work.

                “Bluetooth Audio. Bluetooth Audio. Bluetooth -- Shit!”

                Mike looked up just in time to see something clear and bottle-shaped flying at his windshield. He instinctively jerked the wheel, hard, and his car swerved out of the way, narrowly missing the projectile as it veered off the road and into a concrete barrier.

                As adrenaline flooded his body, Mike truly woke up for the first time that day for just long enough to wish he had simply turned off his alarm, like he had planned every day for the last two years.

- - -

Aleximander dragged the Braincrowave to his house with the pride of a successful hunter. He plunged a knife into the box and tore through the cardboard, throwing aside packing materials and instructions like so many viscera as he lifted out the new headset. The device’s construction was fascinating, passable as the offspring of an oven and a motorcycle helmet, and it gleamed pregnant with the promise of brain-microwaving.

                Bundled with the device was a paper envelope containing a gleaming disc. Frickle Frackle Online was emblazoned at the top in gleaming Comic Sans, and a banner proclaiming, “100 HOURS FREE!” adorned the bottom.

                With a trembling finger Aleximander caressed open his optical drive, gasping as he inserted FFO into the waiting slot. The computer accepted his offering with a mechanical moan, and a progress bar worked its way across the screen. He watched it for the full seven hours, and no sooner had the bar reached its terminus than the Vanguard of Heaven plunged a USB deep into the rear of his computer. The machine grunted at this unexpected penetration, and a message alerted Aleximander that the drivers had been installed. He donned the helmet, and reality faded under the embrace of microwaves.

                “Hello, traveler.”

                An improperly-loaded model stood in front of Aleximander on a white platform hemmed in by a gray fog. He was lacking a head or hands, but the name tag over his floating eyes and detached teeth read CLASS SELECT.

                “Traveler, are you a wizard? Or a knight? Or a hunter? Or a thief? Or a bard? Or perhaps, a uromancer?”

                “Uh,” Aleximander answered, “What do those do?”

                “Take your time,” the un-man responded. “It is only natural to want to consider these things thoroughly.”

                “Okay,” said Aleximander, “But what do they do?”

                “Traveler,” the man said, “Are you a wizard? Or a knight? Or a hunter? Or a thief? Or a bard? Or perhaps, a uromancer?”

                “You didn’t tell me what they do!”

                “Take your time. It is only natural to want to consider these things thoroughly.”

                “Uh, fine,” said Aleximander. “Wizard?”

                “I’m sorry, traveler. That class is only available to customers with a Frickle Frackle Online Premium Account”

                “How do I get one?”

                ““Traveler,” the man said, “Are you a wizard? Or a knight? Or a hunter? Or a thief? Or a bard? Or perhaps, a uromancer?”

Aleximander resolved the get his account later.

“The last one sounds cool,” he said. “The, uh, Euromancer?”

                “Very well, traveler,” said the man. “You are a Uromancer, Paragon of Piss.”

                “Wait –”

                But the man was gone, and Aleximander was sitting in a small village in sackcloth clothes. He needed to find a way to enter his credit card and get better gear immediately… But how?

                “"You ... I've seen you,” came a voice from behind Aleximander. He whipped around to find the royal visage of none other than Cody Driggers, who was clad from head to toe in rich silks and furs.

“Let me see your face... You are the one from my dreams,” said Cody, but Aleximander had already flown into a rage and punched the character. His fist went straight through, impacting nothing, and a tooltip came up in the corner of his vision: Quest givers cannot be attacked by players.

“I swore I would have my revenge,” cried Aleximander, “and I shall! Just you wait until I find your player character, Master Beighter Four Hundred Twenty Ex!”

"I was born 14 years ago,” began Cody. “For 69 years I've ruled as Fricklefracklia’s emperor. But for all these years I have never been the ruler of my own bedtimes... This is Monday; the Year of Hanayo 420. These are the closing days of the open beta, and the final hours before I… am grounded.”

Aleximander was too busy pouting to notice that he was surrounded by hundreds of player characters.

“You, and you alone, are the chosen one,” Cody continued.

“WTB Dildus, Bane of the South,” someone shouted. “5000 Gold!”

“HOW DO I WHISPER?” screamed a voice.

“I hit it with my axe.”

“HEY GUYS I’M CHOSEN ONE ARE YOU”

“Moist with passion, the Halfling’s furry hands wrap around your—“

“Oh, uh, my name?”

Aleximander snapped back to attention.

“I am Aleximander, Commander of the 32nd Squadron, the Vanguard of Heaven, the King of Angels!”

“Sorry,” responded Cody, “There’s a 14-character limit. Please try again.”

“Aleximander,” said Aleximander. And he was.

“Hey,” Cody said, “Have you ever heard of the popular anime series Sword –”

But he never finished, for a voice boomed from the heavens:

“CODY! YOU TOLD ME YOU DID THIS HOMEWORK!”

“I can go no further,” said Cody. “You alone must stand against… Phil.”

“YOU’RE GROUNDED MISTER!”

“SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!”

The scream pierced the air, lingering on far after Cody had faded from the game.

                Aleximander blinked. Wasn’t he an NPC?

- - -

                A commotion in the large, shoddily-tectured town square drew Aleximander’s gaze. As he drew closer it became apparent that the other players were clustered around a shapely young cat-girl. She gazed heavenward, unspeaking, as the crowd formed a circle some distance away from her.

                Then, suddenly, she vanished. And in her place was a figure in a cowled black robe and matching cape, the sort of attire a particularly pathetic middle-schooler might think was cool.

                “Sorry,” said the character labeled Nabocchan, “had to switch alts.”

                “Anyway,” Nabocchan continued, “I cyber-hacked this cyber-game and you can’t log out and you’re all totally going to die irl if you cyber-die or whatever. Thank you for your patience while we resolve this issue.”

                And the figure vanished.

                “Uh,” a nearby woman said, “I can still log out…”

                Her avatar disappeared, as did a few others.

“Hey,” Nabocchan reappeared to say. “Stop it.”

                More avatars faded. The crowd was thinning.

                “Cut it out. Guys. Guys. Come on. You’re, like, super going to die.”

                There were only a few people left now. Nabocchan popped back out of existence with a sigh.

                Aleximander was more baffled than anything. But he couldn’t log out. Not now. He still had his mission.

                A few of the remaining players had congregated into a group, led by a young girl in silver plate.

                “We need to band together if we’re going to survive,” called Aleximander. All the better to have a cover as he pursued Master Beighter Four Hundred Twenty Ex.

                “Yeah,” said the girl, “I was just saying that.”

                “Don’t worry,” said Aleximander, “I’ll protect you and you can make food and stuff and we can marry –”

                “What the fuck?”

                And so Aleximander came to be a lone wanderer. He told himself it was better that way anyhow, with no one to stand in the path of his vengeance. And when he found a place to purchase a premium account, he would be unstoppable.

- - -

                Cody knew from the second Nabocchan appeared that he had been ordained to save the day. He had been an early tester and volunteer cutscene actor, and his sacred Blessed Katana +99 “Douteigiri” was feared throughout the four corners of Fricklefracklia and yea, unto the DLC content.

                As the preorder-exclusive Samurai class, Cody embodied honor; he had sharpened himself like a blade, refining away all impurities and focusing his will into a single point capable of cutting through nearly anything. He had also stolen his mom’s credit card and paid $200 to level straight to 100.

                A wolf stood in his way, as if to test his newfound resolve. Cody drew the Douteigiri, and the wolf leapt.

                Cody struck with his katana. Then struck again. Then struck again. The wolf clawed at him for 1 damage. Cody used his Burning Blade ability to imbue his attacks with fire and attacked for 50 damage – finally, the beast was slain. Cody sheathed his blade, gaining 1 EXP.

                Yes, he had learned the path of the warrior, and lesser men and beasts were naught but chaff before his righteous edge.

                Facing to the west, Cody walked into the sunset. There was only place one evil enough to wear such a cape could be: Phil’s Castle.

- - -

                Aleximander rose from the remains of his most recent quarry, a mighty beast. Noble in life, it was pathetic in death; the king of the wilds reduced to a mere corpse. Aleximander took a moment for reflection, then tore off its paw. With 50 lionbear paws, he was ready to return to the Old Witch of the Well and claim his Pisslord’s Gauntlets.

                But fate would have it otherwise. A figure silhouetted against the burning sun caught Aleximander’s eye. A short man – a boy by the looks of it – walked alone across the horizon, swiping a glowing sword back and forth.

                It could be no other than Master Beighter Four Hundred Twenty Ex. And this time, Aleximander was ready.

- - -

                Cody heard a bloodcurdling shout from behind him and turned as a crystalline spear of pure uric acid whizzed by his head.

                “Cody Driggers,” the weird cop dude from before screamed, “I am Aleximander, Commander of the 32nd Squadron, the Vanguard of Heaven, the King of Angels! Prepare to die!”

                Cody drew his katana. Phil would have to wait; his ki was fully charged for combat now.

- - -

                The two players circled for some time, Cody with blade and Aleximander with enchanted catheter. Then, just as Aleximander prepared another blast of urine, there was a ding and a form materialized.

                “Hello,” taunted a magical girl, “Remember me?”

                “Uh,” said Cody.

                “No?” said Aleximander.

                The magical girl’s face turned sour as she looked down.

                “Dammit,” she said, “Wrong alt again.”

                With another ping she was gone, and Nabocchan stood in her place.

                “What do you want? You interrupt my duel!”, cried Aleximander.

                “Well,” said Nabocchan, “You’re the only two players still in the game. So, I thought it only proper that I spectate your fatal battle, and challenge the winner.”

                “Fine, whatever, just get out of my way!” said Aleximander, unleashing a beam of concentrated uric magics at Cody as another ping sounded.

                “Hey, guys, I’ve been in the hospital after a car accident and I thought this game would be a fun –“

                Sir MikeMan69 never finished his sentence, for Aleximander’s unholy torrent broke upon his face.

                “Oh, fuck this,” he said, logging out.

                Cody seized the opportunity to slash at Aleximander’s exposed wand, only for his blade to deflect harmlessly against a player still experiencing the invulnerability buff from logging in. The game pinged again.

                Barbarian Hariot Johnson looked around with an expression of bemused disdain.

                “Oh, wait,” she said. “Balls. I thought this was dot ha-“

                And then she was gone as well, having disconnected from the server.

                “Now, Master Beighter Four Hundred Twenty Ex, there are no further distractions to save you!”

                Aleximander charged with his frosty dagger Nipplerend and planted the blade deep within Driggers’ left breast.

                “Sorry,” Cody said, “I’m already logging out. This is when Sword Art Online comes on TV.”

                And indeed, the blade did not, could not cut into Driggers’ fading bosom. And then even Cody was gone, leaving Aleximander alone with his anger and regret.

                He turned just in time to see Nabocchan as a magical girl again, lifting a bolt of lightning.

                “OP,” said Aleximander as 100,000 volts of min-maxing tryhard bullshittery slammed into his chest.

                With no energy even to lift his head from the soil, Aleximander slowly, painfully forced his mouth to form the words he knew would be his last.

                “Please…”, the felled uromancer rasped as Magical Girl Nabocchan stood over his smoking heap of a body.

                “…Nerf…”

                And then there was a descending heel, and blackness.

- - -

                Aleximander, more or less alive and very much in an advanced state of salicylate poisoning, tore the Braincrowave from his head and threw it across the room. Somehow, he had been the victim of an impossible betrayal: IGN itself had lied to him.

                He would only give Frickle Frackle Online 9/10.

ADDENDUM: THE LITERARY CRITICISM OF CODY DRIGGERS, VOL. I: SHINOBI

Oed' und leer das Mem!

               I encountered the book Shinobi (A Katana Novel) recently, and thought Cody would love it -- so naturally, I stole the shit out of it and gave it to him. The following is the review he sent me; Enjoy!

-♥, Nabocchan

               Ohayo gozaimatsu guys, Cody Uzumaki Kurosaki here with some literary criticism (yeah I'm a nerd xD)! The shady person who emails me sometimes asked me for my address, and when I told them I got a FREE book with a note saying I should review it. How cool is that! I should give people my address more often. So, here goes! I will ganbarimasu!

               Let's start with the cover. It's so sugoi (cool for you amerika-hitos)

               There are like two katanas. I think more books should have katanas on the cover, like if Kokoro or Snow Country or No Longer Human had rad katanas maybe I would have read more than the first five pages. Spring Snow didn't even have a katana, and I heard its author was a samurai irl (plus it sucked, I read a whole chapter and there were no sword fights so I gave up. Worst samurai evar lol) Japanese "classic" books in general are dumb though, you've gotta read the good stuff like Sword Art Online. Anyway, back to this book. Here, I'll "hit" you with the summary:

               Reincarnated samurai Rileigh Martin may have just graduated high school, but she feels like there isn’t much to celebrate. Her boyfriend Kim doesn’t remember who she is, her past-life enemy Whitley has returned, and her future is unclear.
               When Kim suddenly regains his memories, Rileigh is overjoyed—until she realizes that Sumi, a powerful, reincarnated ninja, has also regained her memories. In the aftermath of Sumi’s attack, Rileigh’s ki powers are draining away and the Network unexpectedly starts hunting her. With time running out, Rileigh must track down Sumi before her powers completely vanish and she’s forever seen as the enemy.

               I think this is probably the best book I've ever read. I mean, it's a katana novel! I really like how the author makes it about samurais, but also manages to make the protagonist white and in modern America so I can relate. I like alot of  Japanese stuff but the main character is usually Asian and it's like what about me? I'm a white student and it's not fair that I don't get representation! I tried to protest this once outside my local Sakura Hibachi and Sushi hoping that a mangaka would see me and realize my point, but they asked me to leave.

               At first I thought it kind of sucked that the main character was a girl because as a boy I didn't think I could understand her, but in retrospect it's okay because the female characters are totally hot. I'm kind of progressive so I think girls with katanas are sexy. I don't know how Rileigh is holding her katana on the cover, but I think it's part of her ki.

               I love the plotline about Rileigh's ki power draining. I don't know what I would do if my ki drained. I wouldn't be able to execute my strongest moves. So, I felt bad for Rileigh. I've never read a story with amnesia in it either, and I think it's really cool and unique. The author is also really clever because I looked it up and Sumi means ink, so it's like Ink the dark black ninja. I'm going to use that as symbolism in the manga I'm drawing at some point, so arigato Gibsen-san!!1 :P

               As someone whose read the entirety of Naruto and Bleach, I think it's fair to say I know a ton about books. So I'll rate this book from 1-10, 1 being something gay like The Great Gatsby (more like the gay gatsby lol! I'm not homophobic though, I love yaoi) and 10 being Attack on Titan (sooooo gooooood :) ).

               I will rate this book, Shinobi, 10/10 Golden Nekos! And give it the Cody Uzumaki Kurosaki Platinum Writing Jutsu Award!

               I hope you enjoyed this book review. I would like to tell my fans: Stay cool and believe it! And with that, I'm signing out. Sayonara shimasu!