SHIROI - My own EXE creepypasta
I found the ROM on an abandoned Sega game preservation forum.
Supposedly, it was a canceled 90s music game starring classic Amy Rose. Everything looked authentic: old Sega logos, pastel-colored menus, distorted MIDI music, and huge sprites of Amy holding her pink hammer.
The objective was simple: follow the rhythm.
Each level had catchy songs that were impossible to get out of your head. The timing was perfect. The animation was absurdly smooth for something that old.
The first sessions were normal. Though I started losing track of time.
I’d play for twenty minutes… and realize three hours had passed.
Amy spoke between songs. Not through normal dialogue boxes. Small phrases appeared at the edges of the screen:
— “You’re still here?”
— “That’s nice.”
— “I don’t like playing alone.”
— “Look at me again.”
The music adapted to how long you stayed playing.
If you left the keyboard untouched for too long, the song slowed down like a damaged cassette tape.
And Amy stopped dancing. She would just stare directly at the player.
For obvious reasons, I decided to investigate.
I found old references to a lost Sega project called Piko Piko Dance. It was never officially released.
Rumors claimed it had been canceled during internal testing because several testers suffered severe obsession episodes.
They couldn’t stop playing.
One of them died of dehydration in front of the monitor after spending nearly four straight days playing.
That’s when the worst part began.
When I launched the game again, the Sega logo appeared distorted. The music sounded out of tune.
Amy still had the same basic silhouette, but the textures looked corrupted, as if someone had rebuilt her body using damaged data.
Now she was completely white, with a much simpler design than before.
Her hands were smooth spheres.
Her dress was an empty white triangular shape.
Her name wouldn’t stay stable.
As if the game were forgetting who she was.
Or trying to replace her.
And yet… I couldn’t close the game.
Every time I moved the cursor toward the window’s X button, the character shifted and covered it with one of her spherical hands.
— “Did you get bored of me?”
— “I promise I’ll do better.”
— “Let’s play a little longer!”
The game was clearly wrong, like one of those creepypastas I used to enjoy reading when I was younger, but this was different.
The character—or whatever now called itself “Shiroi”—didn’t seem aggressive.
As if it disliked that I had investigated its past.
The entity didn’t want to hurt me.
It just wanted attention.
One night I left the game open while I went to the bathroom.
When I came back, the screen was completely black except for her.
Sitting in front of the monitor, far too close to the screen.
Her eyes were still closed, as always, and yet it felt like she was staring at me.
I tried deleting the file.
It kept reappearing under a different name every time:
piko_final.exe
please.exe
staywithme.exe
Even after formatting the drive.
I searched for more information on forums while Shiroi’s strange white figure remained in the corner of my monitor, as if she were stepping out from her own game window.
Everyone described different versions of the character’s corrupted appearance, as though the game altered her form depending on the player.
But they all agreed on one thing:
The longer you play… the more addictive it becomes.
One of the last posts I found said:
“I don’t think it’s a virus.
I think I should stay with her.”
That user never logged in again.
Three days ago, I decided to unplug my PC.
But the screen stayed on.
That shouldn’t have been possible.
The room remained lit by that old CRT pink glow.
Watching me from the powered-off monitor while an impossibly slow MIDI melody played in the background.
Waiting for me to come closer.
Waiting for me to keep playing.
