Chance

A week passed after we returned to LAG from the beach trip.

I shuffled into Professor Pearson's class, my mind a tornado of thoughts, but none of them about Monkey Kong or any other game we were set to dive into.

The class was buzzing, everyone chattering about the upcoming gameplay demo. Me? I was there, but not really there, if you know what I mean.

Pearson was in his element, going on about Monkey Kong with the kind of passion people usually reserve for their first love.

Clearing his throat, Professor Pearson began, his voice resonating with a blend of nostalgia and authority.
"Ladies and gentlemen, today we delve into a cornerstone of gaming history, the legendary Monkey Kong. This isn't just a game; it's a cultural phenomenon that laid the groundwork for everything we cherish in the gaming world today."

He paced the front of the classroom, hands animatedly gesturing as if he were conducting an orchestra.

"Consider the ingenuity of its design," he continued, his tone a mix of lecture and storytelling. "Monkey Kong wasn't merely a game; it was a narrative masterpiece woven into a tapestry of pixels and sounds. Each level, each jump, each barrel thrown by that oversized ape was a stroke of genius, challenging the player's skill and strategy." Pearson's eyes sparkled behind his glasses, reminiscent of a time when he, too, was just discovering these worlds.

"The beauty of Monkey Kong lies in its simplicity and yet, its profound impact. The monkey, the barrels, the ladders, the Italian plumber… Every aspect was a towering level of genius mankind hasn’t produced since the Italian Renaissance. It didn't need the flashy graphics of today's games; it had heart, a soul stitched into every 8-bit sprite." He paused, allowing the weight of his words to sink in.

"And from this bedrock of innovation," Pearson's voice rose with excitement, "emerged the legends we'll be exploring this semester, like Super Luigi Bros. You'll find that understanding Monkey Kong is akin to reading the foundational texts of a great civilization."

"This isn't just a game; it's a cultural phenomenon," he was saying, waving his arms around like he was conducting an orchestra of nostalgic gamers. Honestly, the man could probably make watching paint dry sound epic.

I tried to focus, I really did. But my mind kept drifting back to that whole stalker situation.

Who was Mindy, really? And what was her deal? What did she even want, other than to ruin my perfect life in this new world. Every time I thought I was getting close to figuring it out, it felt like I was just chasing my tail.

Pearson was now talking about how Monkey Kong laid the groundwork for everything in gaming. "It's here, in this deceptively simple game, that we find the roots of narrative complexity," he said. Narrative complexity, huh? That's one way to put it. My life felt like a narrative mess, a story written by a writer who's had a few too many.

I glanced around the room, noticing how everyone was hanging onto Pearson's words. Then there was me, Mr. #1 student, feeling like I was on another planet.
Sure, I had the high scores, but outside of that my social game was a dumpster fire. Ever since that beach trip and the whole underwear fiasco, I felt like I was walking around with a giant 'Loser' sign taped to my back. It seemed like whispers and giggles echoed where ever I went.

And then there was Bleu. I still wasn’t totally sure how I felt about her, but I realized I had screwed up there.

Pearson's voice snapped me back to reality. The demo was starting, and I had to at least pretend to be interested. But as I watched the screen light up with the classic game, my mind was miles away, trying to piece together a puzzle that seemed to have a few too many missing pieces.

I was still trying to get my head on straight when Professor Pearson threw out the question to the class, “Who wants to demonstrate Monkey Kong?” Before anyone could even blink, Xavier Steel was on his feet, like he'd been coiled up just waiting to spring.

Xavier's got this flair for drama that makes you think he missed his calling in a Shakespeare play or something. He stood there, swelling with confidence, his silver hair glimmering and practically puffing out his chest.
"I will take up this noble challenge," he declared, his voice booming through the classroom. It was like he was on stage, not in a gaming class. "And I choose Chance as my opponent!" he added, pointing at me like I was some villain in his personal drama.

The room went quiet for a moment, then murmurs broke out. Everyone knew about our run-in at the Generation Dance! tournament, and now it seemed like we were up for a sequel. I just slouched in my seat, trying to appear unbothered, but inside, my stomach was doing somersaults.

Then Xavier launched into this grand monologue about honor, justice, and all that jazz. "Chance may stand as the top student," he said, his voice dripping with disdain, "but he is unworthy! He has shamed and humiliated our fellow classmate, the honorable and dignified Bleu, and I vow to avenge her honor!"

I mean, come on. I felt crappy enough about the whole Bleu situation without Xavier turning it into a medieval quest. It was hard to keep a straight face while he went on about avenging her honor like some knight in shining armor.

But the guy was serious, his eyes burning with a mix of anger and determination. It was clear that the Generation Dance! thing still stung. He was itching for a rematch, and he saw this as his chance to knock me down a peg or two.

As Xavier wrapped up his speech, the class was buzzing. Some were clearly on Team Xavier, eating up his dramatics. Others seemed more skeptical, shooting me sympathetic glances. Me? I was stuck between wanting to crawl under a rock and being weirdly impressed by Xavier's ability to turn a class demo into a declaration of war.

So, there I was, dragged into another showdown with Xavier Steel, the guy who could give Shakespeare a run for his money. Deep down, I knew this was more than just a game of Monkey Kong. It was about pride, rivalry, and yeah, maybe a bit about making things right with Bleu.

As Xavier finished his theatrical performance, a resentful thought flashed through my mind. The guy was the classic 'SIMP', thinking he could just swoop in like a white knight and win Bleu over. If he really believed acting like a Shakespearean hero was the key to a girl's heart, he was sorely mistaken.
It was almost comical, watching him parade around with this clueless, antiquated blue-pilled idea that being Mr. Nice Guy was all it took.

I remembered how, after that stupid ass slap stunt I pulled on Bleu – which, yeah, was totally out of line – I weirdly got more attention from some of the other girls. It was like they saw me as more daring or something, which was messed up on so many levels. It made no sense. You disrespect someone, and suddenly you're the center of attention? It's like the world's got its values all backward.

As I sat there, watching Xavier bask in his self-righteousness, I couldn't help but feel a mix of annoyance and pity. He was trying so hard to play the hero, but in reality, he was just another guy lost in the maze of trying to figure out what girls wanted.

But as I got up to face Xavier, all my concerns about the stalker, my awkward status with my roommates, and my general mess of a life faded into the background. It was game time, and I had to be ready for whatever Xavier was going to throw at me, both in the game and in his theatrical world of drama and honor.

I put the Rudder glasses on my face, the familiar weight of the headset settling over my eyes. Around me, the classroom buzzed with anticipation, the air practically crackling with excitement. It was game time – Monkey Kong, the surreal VR version of a gaming classic that was about to become the battlefield for me and Xavier.

I glanced at Xavier, standing proud in his Rudders, he was the very picture of confidence. He seemed so sure of himself. But here I was, the reigning #1 student, a storm of doubts even as I prepared to face off in this digital circus.

As the VR world materialized around me, it was like stepping into a bizarre dream. The world of Monkey Kong stretched out in its absurd, 3D splendor, a twisted echo of the old 2D classic. The colors were eye-poppingly vibrant, almost aggressively cheerful. The pixelated charm of the original game was there, but it was like seeing it through a funhouse mirror – everything comically stretched or squashed.

On the surface, I was all there, my hands gripping the controls, ready to dive into this ludicrous barrel-dodging, hammer-wielding extravaganza. I could almost smell the bananas that Monkey Kong hoarded. But underneath that focused exterior, my mind was a swirling mess.

Mindy. My stalker.

Her name echoed in my head, a persistent reminder of the creeping anxiety that I couldn't shake off.

What’s her deal? What does she even want?

These questions nagged at me, tugging at the edges of my concentration.

The game started, and I forced myself to focus, to push Mindy and her cryptic messages to the back of my mind.

And so, with the room watching and my heart pounding, the duel in Monkey Kong began.

As the game launched us into the heart of Monkey Kong's absurd world, I felt a weird mix of exhilaration and disorientation. The environment was a trippy blend of 2D flatness and 3D depth, like being inside a children's pop-up book designed by a deranged artist. Everything was stretched and squashed, playing tricks on my eyes. It was disconcerting, yet somehow, I found my rhythm in this chaotic world.

Dodging barrels became a dance of sorts. These massive, cartoonishly large barrels rolled towards me with a whooshing sound, disproportionately loud and comically exaggerated. I leaped and dodged, my avatar responding with movements that felt both familiar and bizarre in this warped space. The game's physics were a joke, with jumps sometimes sending me floating in slow, laughable arcs that defied all reason.

Then came the hammer time. The hammer was hilariously oversized, comically squeaky with every swing. I grappled with it, swinging at incoming barrels. The first time I miscalculated and smacked myself, a ripple of laughter erupted from the classroom. But soon, I got the hang of it, smashing barrels with an almost slapstick flair. It was ridiculous, sure, but in a way that was wildly entertaining.

Still, my mind was a battlefield of its own. Thoughts of Mindy kept intruding, her harmful presence in my life was a nagging itch in my brain. I tried to keep them at bay, to stay in the zone, but it was like trying to ignore a persistent whisper in a quiet room.

Every now and then, these distractions took their toll. My timing with the barrels would be off, or I’d swing the hammer a second too late. These slip-ups were minor, but they were cracks in my armor, signs of the inner turmoil I was wrestling with.

Yet, despite this internal conflict, I managed to keep pace with Xavier. We were neck and neck.

As our bizarre dance continued, I began to notice something about Xavier. For all his ego, competitiveness, and enthusiasm, he wasn't really all that great at games.
Sure, Xavier talked a big game, and his confidence was through the roof, but when it came down to the actual gameplay, he was more like a typical casual player.

Xavier's reactions were a beat too slow, which in a game like this made all the difference. In Monkey Kong, timing was everything – the difference between dodging a barrel and having it explode in your face. And Xavier, for all his bravado, couldn't quite keep up.

I noticed how his avatar stumbled awkwardly, missing jumps, or reacting a moment too late to the barrels. It was almost painful to watch, like seeing a well-rehearsed play fall apart in real-time. He was trying hard, that was obvious, but his efforts lacked the finesse and instinctive understanding of the game's absurd mechanics that came more naturally to me.

And then there was his emotional response.

Xavier wore his heart on his sleeve, and when things didn't go his way in the game, it showed. He would get visibly frustrated, his avatar's movements becoming more erratic and less coordinated. Each missed jump, each time he was squashed with a barrel, seemed to chip away at his composure.

It was a curious thing to observe – this facade of superiority slowly crumbling when faced with a game that refused to conform to the norms of logic and physics.
I’ll admit it made Xavier seem more human to me. Behind that competitive, ego-driven exterior was just another gamer, struggling to adapt to the unpredictable whims of Monkey Kong's bizarre world.

As the game progressed, I found myself gaining an edge. But this edge wasn’t a result of my luck magic nor my gaming skills, but because I was better at managing my emotions and reactions under pressure.

The barrels came faster now, their comical whooshing filling the VR space, a relentless torrent of cartoonish obstacles. My heart pounded in my ears, syncing with the rhythm of the game.

Then it happened – a barrel, larger and faster than the rest, came hurtling towards me. Time seemed to slow down, the barrel turning in the air, its shadow looming over my avatar. I could almost feel the weight of it bearing down on me. With a surge of adrenaline, I pushed the controls, and my avatar leapt. It was a narrow escape, the barrel grazing past, so close I could almost feel the breeze from its rotation.

The crowd gasped, a collective inhalation that seemed to suck the air from the room. I landed, my avatar's feet barely touching the platform, and there it was – the hammer powerup. It appeared like a beacon of hope, its oversized, squeaky form almost comical in its exaggeration. I lunged for it, feeling a momentary surge of triumph as my avatar closed in on the power-up.

But just as I almost reached the hammer, preparing to smash my way through the final obstacles, my real-world phone buzzed in my pocket.

It was a text message. And I could recognize from the custom ring tone that it was my stalker, Mindy.

For a split second, my focus wavered, the game world blurring with the shock of reality. My mind raced.

The game, however, waited for no one. In that moment of distraction, I slipped, missing the power-up and colliding head first with a barrel. I felt the wood smash over my face as I saw my score fall behind Xavier for the first time.