When he gained control of the character, he was already in the central hub. Huggy Wuggy stood on his pedestal, but he wasn’t a frozen statue. The blue fur was matted and damp, and the doll’s head followed Elias’s cursor with mechanical precision.
He looked back at the screen. Huggy Wuggy wasn't on the pedestal anymore. The screen was black, save for a small chat box at the bottom. When he gained control of the character, he
Elias tried to move toward the door, but his character wouldn't walk. He could only rotate the camera. Every time he completed a 360-degree turn, Huggy Wuggy was a foot closer. He looked back at the screen
Elias laughed. “Nice touch, Hakux,” he muttered, hitting Yes . Elias tried to move toward the door, but
“I didn't compress the game, Elias. I compressed the distance.”
The game launched instantly. There was no main menu, no settings, just the cold start of the VHS intro. But the narrator’s voice was wrong. It wasn't the cheery corporate tone; it was a low, rhythmic wet sound, like someone breathing through a mouthful of marbles.
A heavy, fur-covered weight landed on Elias’s shoulders from behind. The smell of old plastic and copper filled the room. He didn't turn around. He didn't have to. The "highly compressed" version of the game had finally finished unpacking—right in his bedroom.