Ahndrian Archives

Malcolm’s one month reprieve from his online life was nothing short of draining for someone who had come to love living his life in the spotlight. Only a week in and he found himself thrown across the living room floor at Noelle’s feet, watching the latest episode of whatever show was running a marathon that day.

Only two days into that and Noelle had enough of his “Who’s the killer?” guessing game. Mostly because every guess he made was right. A character would walk in off the side of the screen, make no attempt to draw attention to themselves, but somehow Malcolm knew right away it was them. By the end of the episode, when the character he named was arrested or dead, he’d sigh and act as though it was the most bothersome chore in the world to be right.

Eventually, he was barred from the living room during her binge-watching sessions and his only hope was to play games alone in his room, even if no one was watching. He slumped over to his computer chair and dropped down into his cushioned throne.

The loud ringing of his desktop’s booting music sent a small shock to his system. He jerked upright, not realizing he’d been half asleep to start with. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk, and looked out his window as the handful of startup programs began to run in the background of his PC.

He could see the top of the clocktower from this position. He loved to see how it loomed over the city. Everyone was always looking up at it.

A long yawn escaped his throat and he turned back to his computer as it finished booting the last program.

The library of games he had available to him was far greater than necessary. He was already on his third external hard drive. The hundreds of indie games he had received over the years were something precious to him. He kept every single one he enjoyed. Now he had hundreds of games he never planned to play again sitting on discarded hard drives.

His main PC only had games he bought for their unmatched quality— by his standards. The number was far fewer, but he felt that there was a sanctity to what he put on his main hard drive. Though he enjoyed most of the indie games he got on a regular basis, none of them breached that threshold.

Suddenly his thoughts all seemed to gather for their intended purpose. Malcolm found a purpose for his banishment that could actually give him something to anticipate. He kicked his chair back and rolled across the hard wood of his floor until he reached his bed. He snatched his phone off the sheet and pressed his finger against the cracked glass.

“This is the best idea I’ve ever had,” Malcolm muttered to himself. He scrolled past his home screen and dove into his apps. He pulled up his main social media pages and paused for a moment as he decided how he wanted to word his message.

Then another idea hit him as suddenly as the first. He wheeled back over to his computer. He opened the webcam app and went back to his phone before the screen fully opened.

“Be on the lookout for a new video hitting my page tomorrow!” he typed the message and sent it off without a second thought. He tossed his phone over his shoulder, back onto the bed. Once he turned his head to the computer screen again, he saw himself for the first time in days.

Malcolm was by no means disgusting. As little as he liked cleaning, he always took care of himself, because his appearance mattered when he was on camera. However, the last week he had been cut off from civilization and school didn’t start for another few days. So, his motivations for self-care had fallen by the wayside. His cheeks were covered in stubble that he normally kept neatly cleaned up, his eyes were crusted, and his skin was darker around his eyes. Even the clothes he was wearing were at least three days old.

He remembered taking showers, but it wasn’t until now he realized he’d been grabbing the clothes for after his shower from the wrong laundry bin. He was never more thankful that he chose to not wear underwear today.

The space in view of his camera was also just as unkempt as he was. Wrappers from recent candy binges and the sleeves from a half dozen snacks littered his desk. His clothes, likely the clean ones he’d been neglecting, littered the floor. He was suddenly amazed that he managed to roll his chair through all of it earlier.

He kicked his chair back again and hopped up, pulling his shirt over his head, and throwing it into the dirty hamper. He hopped around as he pulled the rest of his clothes off, tossing all of them into the basket before shoving that basket into a corner so he didn’t make the same mistake.

He ran across the hall and hopped in the shower, nearly falling in the hallway when he heard Noelle coming up the stairs. Finally taking a breath, he leaned against the shower walls, letting the warm water run down his back.

He’d made multiple decisions so quickly he didn’t realize how drained it would make him feel. He inhaled and exhaled slowly, getting his heartbeat back to normal.

#

Once he was back in his room, Malcolm tossed on a set of clean clothes, eyeing the dirty clothes bin in the corner to ensure he made no mistakes. He picked the other clothes off his floor and tossed them in the basket too. This time when he looked in the camera, he felt a lot better about himself. Finally, he grabbed the trashcan by his feet and knocked all the wrappers into it before taking a seat.

“3...2...1,” He took a deep breath and looked into the camera, clicking the record button, “What’s going on! KingMac is back with an announcement. Now, as you all know, I have had a slight disagreement with some of my favorite platforms as of late. That being said, I’m here to set something up when I make my comeback.

“For the first time ever, I’m offering a competition between indie developers! Submit any complete game, with at least four hours of play time, to me and I will play it live, in its entirety, for everyone to see. However, to get a livestream of your game and possibly win, you have to be quick. I will open up submissions next week. Once submissions are open, only the first twenty people to submit a game will be accepted. Those twenty will be judged live, and I solemnly swear I will do my best to be nice. That’s all I can promise.”

Malcolm laughed at his own joke and waited a beat before starting again, “Now, the winner of this competition will earn a spot on my main hard drive forever. This hard drive is a temple of titles that I have personally deemed worthy of praise. If you win this competition, I give you full permission to put ‘approved by King Mac’ on your resume. I’m sure that’s worth something, right? Maybe I’ll add some cash prizes to sweeten the pot.

“That’s all for now folks. Further details will be up on social media closer to the time that I will open up submissions. Best of luck to all who dare enter.” Malcolm reached over and picked up the plastic golden crown he always used for outros and set it on his head, “King Mac, out.”

He held his pose for a few seconds before grabbing the mouse and stopping the recording. He packed everything into a folder and shot an email to the only other friend he knew wouldn’t be busy on a Wednesday night.

Yo Eddie,

I need this wrapped up all nice and pretty some time tomorrow. You got me?

Your favorite(only) client,

King Mac

a.k.a. Your best friend Malcolm

He sent the message off to Eddie Heim, his editor, and leaned back in his chair. He could hear his phone buzzing on his bed, likely notifications from his pages since he dropped such a short status out of nowhere. He took a moment to just feel satisfied. To remember that not everything he touched went to Hell.