In a run-down apartment complex, an obese man in his mid-twenties sat in a dark room in front of the latest and most expensive PC.
He stared at his home screen with a sour expression as he waited for a game to finish downloading.
'This game doesn't even have a name. This better be worth it.' Martin grumbled as he stared at the newly downloaded game on his desktop.
It had been a long time since Martin felt even the least bit eager to play a new game. He really hoped this wouldn't turn out to be a waste of his time.
After all, Martin went through a lot of trouble and took on a huge amount of risk diving into the murky foreboding waters of the dark web to find this game.
He shifted through the terrorist chat rooms and avoided all the foreign hackers and identity thieves until he found this game.
From what he managed to find out about this game it was an RPG of some kind and apparently, it was supposed to have extremely realistic graphics and other high-tech shit like that. Plus it was supposedly going to be a rather difficult game.
"Fingers crossed. Anyway, it's done downloading. Guess it's time to play this so-called high-tech masterpiece," Martin said unenthusiastically.
He scrolled his curser over to the game icon and right-clicked twice opening up the game, but what greeted him wasn't a grandiose title screen like he expected.
Instead, all he saw was a jumbled mess of glitching pixels followed by an ear-piercing screeching noise that made him grind his teeth in agony.
*Sceeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrccccchhhhhh!!!*
"Aaaaaahhhhh! What in the actual fuck!" Martin cursed as he tried to cover his already bleeding ears.
However, this was pointless, his eardrums had already burst and were gushing blood down the sides of his neck, and other than trashing around like a lunatic.
All Martin could do was wail while the screeching only got louder and louder until Martin could feel his brain beginning to melt and ooze out his nostrils.
It was at that time the pixels on the screen jumped out and formed a deformed hand made of screeching static that latched onto the screaming Martin, sticking its fingers into his mouth and attempting it force its way into his throat.
"WHAT THE FUCK! WHAT THE FUCK! WHAT THE FUCK!" Martin shouted at the top of his lungs, barely able to speak due to the foreign object forcing its way into his mouth.
The obese man cried out and pulled violently on the hand wrapped around his face all to no avail.
Soon he began to feel its elongating fingers inch their way into his nasal cavity and pretty soon they pushed even deeper into his brain case.
This action caused Martin's eyes to roll back into his skull and he jerked around more violently, falling from his gamer chair onto the cold wooden floor.
He attempted to crawl away as the hand continued to reach inside his skull it was all useless though.
The overweight shut-in could never get away from the brutal unforgiving pull of the pixel claw that torturously tried to wrench his brain from his mouth.
The pitiful man cried and pleaded through choking gasps for this to quickly end but unfortunately, the process was long and excruciatingly painful.
It took more than an hour for the hand to finally grab onto every single piece of his brain, with it even clutching onto his spinal cord.
At this point, Martin still foolishly hoped that maybe that would be the end of it. Maybe he was going to wake up soon. Maybe this was some kind of terrible nightmare, but regardless of whether what he was experiencing was real or fake Martin still understood one thing.
His torture was far from over.
"I am... so... fucked!" Martin whimpered/gagged, these his final words.
The pixelated claw took hold of his entire brain, gripping it tightly. Then with one swift mighty pull, it yanked his brain out through his mouth. Sucking it all into the computer monitor in a matter of seconds.
Martin managed to let out a few pained moans before his body stopped squirming, leaving behind a lifeless hollow-headed cadaver.
The horrible screeching that had continued throughout the hellish process had ceased and the pixels that had once covered the screen slowly faded away.
All that was left were bright seizure-inducing lights and the chilling words "New Game: Start!" written in Martin's own blood etched onto his computer screen.
Not long afterward, the lights turned off, and the warm blood cooled and then dried.
Thus the last bit of light was extinguished in the dark room where Martin's overweight corpse began to rot on his trash-covered bedroom floor.