#animajam

It is May of 2017. All around us are the ruins of a once great game, a peaceful land protected by somewhat odd but nevertheless brave Alphas. Only a few months ago, this world was only semi-fucked up, but we had been able to weather the drama and the ten year olds asking for member sugar daddies in the pillow room.

This is different.

Nobody knows exactly how the Aparrian Empire took over. It is only known that it happened suddenly, the cheese tigers roaring into an uprise and drowning out all the others. Though the spinny bois and candle crocs fought valiantly, they fell quickly to the onslaught of self proclaimed Swag Warriors™. The King Bean was captured, and Queen Moon Moon disappeared.

Now, I was huddled with a group of the last remaining rebels by the base of a partially crumbled Mira Statue, a small oasis in the sea of red colors and Graham statues.

“There’s only one thing left to do,” I said quietly. “We know how to defeat him. I’m going in alone.”

Nobody argued. This was the last hope to dethrone him and restore Jamaa to it’s previous glory. Solemnly, I donned the spike and elf tail, the disguise that would get me through the first layers of defenses. As I turned to look at the others, I nodded.

“I won’t fail.”

The sky was unnecessarily edgy, swirling with storm clouds that I could only assume made him feel more powerful. Everything was shaded by my red sunglasses, but I could still see the clashing colors of guards marching around in their mismatched rares, all fashion sense thrown out the window in order to prove that they were worthy. Every step closer to the dreaded Swag Castle made me shiver with dread. I was surrounded by his army- there was no going back now.

Yells of “Kawaii!” could be heard from every direction, the phrase scrawled on banners and scratched into the walls. I involuntarily shuddered at the infection, at how many people had been affected by the poison. It must be stopped. The farther I walked into their midst, the more people crowded into the hallways, all screaming for autographs. As I turned down a hallway, their screams turned into shrieks; of joy or terror, I could not tell. My pulse quickened, and I sped up towards all of the commotion.

He was here.

Pushing my way through the rabid pack, I caught a glimpse of the dictator, the tyrant himself, sitting on his lavish throne with the dreaded scribble masterpiece in front of him. My blood was boiling. How dare he sit there while we were burning? This must end.

I was at the front of the pack now. The moment was near. I could hear him remarking about how iconic his potato basket masterpiece was.

I couldn’t wait any longer.

A shriek grew in my throat and burst forward into the stuffy air, my arctic wolf disguise dropping and revealing my true otter form. All those around me screamed and fell back, scrambling over each other to distance themselves from my unpopular animal, afraid of being tainted by sense of individuality.

“REPORT!!!11!1! BLOCK!!1!1!! SCALLOP!!11!!” they yelled, but I did not care. My battle cry echoed above their voices and I leapt forward, drawing my sword in midair and bringing it down in a deadly arc of pure destruction.

“NO!” Aparri shouted, leaping from his throne, but he was too late. The blade sliced the canvas of his precious scribble with a great ripping noise, shattering the likes and splintering the frame.

The noise from the Potato Lord was inhuman. He was violent, unpredictable, but I had done damage, I had left my mark. I collected myself from the floor and pushed up my aviator hat, but as soon as I completed the action, I was knocked back down by the roleplayers that Aparri had recruited a long long time ago.

The shadow of his top hat loomed over me, and I spat blood from my mouth, looking up.

“You may have destroyed my precious scribble,” he hissed, adjusting his beard. “But you’ll never destroy me. Nobody knows how.”

I bared my teeth. “Not-”

His eyes widened. “No.”

Pushing myself into a sitting position, I looked into his dead eyes. “Everybody-”

“GUARDS!” he yelled, and they rushed forward, fighting to get through the masses of terrified fans.

I stood on my feet again. “Likes-”

“STOP HER!” he cried, but he was too late.

“YOU!” My last word rang through their ears. For a moment, all was silent. Then, a rumbling began, pillars collapsing, and potato basket disintegrating, the the ‘swag’ graffiti falling apart.

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?” he shrieked. I laughed maniacally as he fell. His kingdom was falling around him and there was nothing he could do.

“I HAVE DEFEATED YOU!” The flames reached up around the side of the swag castle, burning all in it’s path. 

The end had begun.