//------------------------------//
// |♫| ɪ. The Prison 
// Story: This Game of Mine 
// by Swan Song 
//------------------------------//

 


“History's lords have ever painted the future
in tones of fire and shadow.”
—Astrolord Cloak   


 



  
 
 



S E V E R A L   M O N T H S   A G O . . .





S I L V E R   S P O O N


 
How unusual.

One could be forgiven for not knowing precisely what my thoughts referred to as "unusual", as there were a great many things unusual about that particular moment in time.

It was unusual that I had found myself slowed to a halt in the middle of Ponyville’s hectic streets, despite them being flooded with ponies as they made their way home from long days of work and school. 

It was unusual that the cause of my sudden distraction had been a pair of mares trotting past, despite me rarely holding any particular interest in the common folk of our quaint little township.

It was unusual that those two mares had chosen to adorn themselves in rather heavy beige trench coats and hats, clearly intending to obscure their identities despite the heat of the summer afternoon.

It was unusual that the smaller of these mares was burdened with what appeared to be a black cardboard box, its sleek design boldly proclaiming its contents in gigantic lettering for all to see: “HOOFBOX”.

But above all else, it was unusual that I had immediately recognized the squeaky timbre of the little mare as she had passed by, unaware that her attempts to remain disguised were being entirely compromised by her excited nattering. 

As the two mares vanished into the crowd, I blinked as a thought came unbidden to my mind: 

What in Stars’ name was a Hoofbox, and why was Sweetie Belle, of all ponies, carrying one?

“Silver Spoon.”																		  

I blinked. Shaken from my reverie, I turned to face the filly who had addressed me.

“Yes, Diamond Tiara?” I replied to my best friend with a smile.		 

“We’re going to my store,” the filly informed me coolly, as if I didn’t already know.

I raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“You standing there in the middle of the street isn’t gonna get us there any faster.”

Ah. Well. She wasn't wrong there. “My apologies.” I swept my bangs from out of my face. “For a moment I thought I had spotted someone I recognized.”

Diamond quirked an eyebrow at me. “Who?”

“A friend,” I said simply, trotting past her. “I was mistaken.”

“Naturally,” she replied sardonically as she matched my pace. “It’s not like there’s anyone else in this backwater besides me that’s worth spending time with.”

“True enough,” I agreed with a nod, and we trotted through the town square. 

Two years’ worth of growth had done little to elevate Ponyville beyond its status as an austere little farming town. It was still wooden frames and thatched roofs as far as the eye can see. Its advancement was no doubt stymied by the citizenry, who were annoyingly content with maintaining the town's everlasting mediocrity. The only major concession they had made in recent memory was the expansion of the Barnyard Bargains retailer, which had become a large shopping plaza where several storefronts now made their home. 

Of course, Diamond Tiara took no small amount of pride in this fact, seizing every opportunity to remind our schoolmates that it was her family’s business that was responsible for contributing the lion’s share of contemporary culture to Ponyville.

‘Contemporary’, perhaps, but ‘culture’ was rather… generous. It was a glorified department store.

We approached the structure in question, its utilitarian Manehattan-esque masonry a stark contrast to the rest of Ponyville’s humble wooden architecture. As we trotted through the open doors, Diamond turned to me. 

“How much are the tickets for tonight’s show again?”

“A hundred bits for front row seats,” I replied.

“Cool.” She walked up to the counter, where a teenage stallion was muzzle-deep in a comic book. She rapped her hoof on the counter’s surface. “Hey, you!”

The pimply teenager jumped as he was forced out of his reverie. “Er, yes miss, hello, welcome to Rich’s Barnyard—“

“It’s me, you pathetic breeder,” she snarled at him.

“Oh! Yes, Miss Diamond, what can I—“

“I need bits from the register. Ten lunars will do. Chop chop!” She folded her legs atop the counter, awaiting a response.

The stallion stared at her for a moment, scratching the back of his neck in a clear sign of indecision. “Er…”

“Well? What are you waiting for?” She huffed irritably. “Do you want me to report you to my father again?”

“N-no, Miss Diamond,” he stammered. “It’s just that… he, um, Mister Rich doesn’t want you pulling money out of the register anymore.”

“Ugh. This again.” She dropped to all fours. “Fine, I’ll talk to him myself. Where is he?”

“He… should be in the back offices.”

“Terrific. Just what I wanted to deal with today.” 

With a huff, Diamond returned to me. 

“Daddy’s being difficult again. I’m gonna go try and talk some sense into him. Wait here and I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Without waiting for my response, she twirled around and made a beeline towards the rear end of the store. Typical Diamond, I thought absentmindedly as I began wandering the isles of the store in search of a means to entertain myself. 

In short order, I found myself utterly bored, aimlessly wandering between endless racks of flashy clothing, glass displays of sparkling jewelry, and platforms laden with bottles of perfume. I wrinkled my nose as the noxious odors permeated my surroundings. It reeked of mother’s charity formals. 

Finding an empty bench in the next department over, I sat down to clear my sinuses of the fumes. Diamond was still nowhere in sight. Honestly, how long did it take for her to squeeze a few bits out of the old stallion?

My gaze wandered over to the magazine stand beside me. Trashy tabloids, teen heartthrobs, celebrity gossip; the usual inane rubbish…																															  

Hmm? What was this?

My eyes fixated on a magazine, its cover adorned with a photo of the Wonderbolts amid an intricate aerial maneuver, magnificent streaks of light and color trailing from their forms. Slowly I stretched out a hoof—

“Eyyyy, check this out!” 

Suddenly, the magazine was whisked off the stand by a beige aura of magic.

Oh, for Sun’s sake, what manner of thuggish—

Irritated, I shot my gaze up at the offender… and realized that the putrid yellow colt who had taken the magazine was none other than my gangly classmate, Snails.

“Hey Snips, look!” the unicorn said excitedly as he raced up to a plump little green colt. “The new AeroRadical is out!”

“That’s not what we’re here for,” grumbled his squat little friend. “C’mon, let’s go look at the new Hoofboxes.”

My ear twitched as I caught mention of the familiar word. A little filly in a beige trench coat trotted through my memories.

“Fiiiine,” groaned Snails. He unceremoniously dropped the magazine on a nearby product stand and followed after Snips.

With a quick glance around, I left my seat and began tailing the two colts through the store as they scrambled towards the west end, where several stratoscreens lined the wall, flashing non-stop advertisements.

“Over here!” shouted Snips, pointing at several black boxes underneath one of the screens. Skulking behind one of the shelves, I immediately recognized them as the same box Sweetie Belle had been carrying earlier today.

“Awesome! Looks like they still have plenty,” said Snails excitedly. “Are these the brand new ones?”

“Heck yes, just came out!” Snips said with an excited grin.

“Are we both getting one?” 

“Obviously. How else are we gonna play Eternity when we’re not hanging out together?”

Ah, that explained it. It was one of those video game machines. How wretched.

I almost dared a smidgen of sympathy for the colts, who were easily the two least attractive of all my schoolmates—no filly in her right mind wanted to be anywhere within ten feet of them. To say nothing of the fact that they had no redeeming qualities that could make them of any use to anyone. 

Too unsightly for breeding, too scrawny for labor, too cowardly for war. What use were these colts to anyone? It’s as if they were destined for a life of lonely mediocrity.

No surprise that they would seek the self-gratifying solace of a video game.

I had heard stories of what happened to colts who played video games. They slowly lost themselves in these fake worlds, addicted to the sense of worth that was bestowed upon them, addicted to seeking success via the eternal pursuit of “points” and “high scores”, addicted despite the fact that none of it was real. 

That was, perhaps, the greatest irony of it all: the more they lost themselves in these games, the more lost they would become to society. After all, a male that was playing a video game was a male that wasn’t breeding, laboring, or defending their homeland.

Yet, how could they not be drawn to it? They were so cursed by their worthlessness that they were left with no other choice but to succumb to it wholly, to seek shelter in the only place where they could feel like anything they did had meaning. 

It was a place for failures to play at triumph.

I stared at these two colts with newfound pity. 

They would never be anything like me, I was a lady, after all. I commanded respect and responsibility. I was set to inherit the Silver fortune.

I would become someone. And they would forever be nothing.

“How much is it though?” came the dopey warble of Snails’ voice, breaking me from my musing.

“Not sure.” Snips turned one of the boxes around. “Lemme see if it’s on the… holy horseapples!” He leapt backwards in shock. “Two thousand?!”

“Seriously?!” said Snails incredulously. “How the hay are we supposed to afford that?!”

Oh, you pitiable little peasants. Twenty solars was nothing for the likes of my family.

…or Sweetie Belle’s, apparently.

Hmm.

As the squabbling colts began counting whatever bits they had between them, I trotted away towards the front of the store.

All things considered, twenty solars was nothing to scoff at, and I sincerely doubted Sweetie Belle had much money to go around. For a filly like her to spend that much on a video game machine…

If there were anything more pitiable than a man who played video games, it was a mare that did the same. After all, we were ladies. It was our charge to lead, to ensure the financial security of our families, to uphold the responsibilities and opportunities granted to us as pioneers and politicians and businessmares.

Of all ponykind, we were the ones destined for greatness. 

Except for the precious few failures among us that would never achieve  it.

Oh, Sweetie Belle. I knew you were pathetic, but to be such a catastrophe that you must submerge yourself in the world of failed men?

What a tragic fate.

The front counter came into view, and still Diamond was nowhere in sight. Once again, the colt behind the register was deeply engorged in his comic book.

I gave the scrawny stallion a quick once-over. His face was pockmarked with pimples, and he sported a pair of thick-rimmed glasses that magnified his eyes nearly twofold. He couldn’t have been more than a few years older than myself.

Definitely not that high on the mating totem pole. I’d be willing to bet a lunar that this stallion was one of those video game players as well.

With nothing better to do, I stepped forward.

“Excuse me?” I said, rapping lightly on the counter.

“Hmm?” He peered over his comic book. “Oh, hey there, little filly. Can I help you find something?”

‘Little filly?’ I was nearly thirteen winters! Of course, I said nothing as I graced him with a polite smile.

“Actually, I was wondering if you could answer a few questions regarding those, er, ‘Hoofbox’ machines you have on display?”

“Oh boy, could I!” he exclaimed, nearly dropping his comic in his excitement, though a slight blush crept between his pimples as he regained his posture. “I mean, er, sure, what did you need to know?”

“I was just curious… they’re rather expensive, no? Surely they’re not so amazing as to be worth that much?”

"You mean you don't know?!" His eyes widened, so disbelieving of my ignorance that I might as well have admitted to being a Gryphosi spy. “Oh mare, let me tell you! They’re super powerful, the graphics are amazing, and it plays all the latest games. If you have a nice stratoscreen, it can feel like you’re actually there!” 

His face lit up dreamily as he spoke, as if the Stars themselves had sought to bequeath him an unspeakably gorgeous new fillyfriend. 

Hah. As if.

“That sounds… remarkable,” I said in mock awe.

“That’s not even the best part!” he grinned. “The Hoofbox is the first one that lets you play video games with other ponies all over the world!”

That was certainly interesting. “I assume they work over the Stratonet?”

“That’s right!” he nodded empathically.

“Fascinating…” 

“Heh, no kidding!” He leaned back in his seat. “I didn’t realize so many fillies like you were into video games! Another one came in with her older sister about an hour ago to buy one!”

And opportunity struck. “Is that so?”

“Yeah! Strange new world, huh?”

Strange new world indeed.

I leaned forward conspiratorially. “Perchance, was it Sweetie Belle?”

He raised an eyebrow at me. “Wait, how’d you know? She said she hasn’t told anyone else that she plays video games.”

Oh, how your secrets amused me, little Crusader.

“Posh. We’re friends, obviously,” I lied dismissively with a wave of my hoof. “She mentioned that she might be getting one soon.”

“Ah, I see.”

A sudden thought came to my mind. Now that I knew Sweetie Belle’s curious little secret, I couldn’t help the grin that overcame my expression as I realized the many possibilities that lay before me. I glanced around quickly to ensure that Diamond wasn’t within earshot, then leaned closer to the stallion.

“In fact, I was thinking about getting one so that I may join her. You know, just as a little surprise. After all, I’ve been wondering what all the fuss has been about with these… video games.”

“Really? I bet she’d like that.”

“Yes, but… I’m afraid she didn’t inform me which game she was getting.”

“Oh, it just came out, it’s called Eternity,” he said, pointing to a small display on the counter, where several plastic game cases were propped up for display. The one in question pictured several armored soldiers, each wielding a large firearm of some sort, or generating some kind of strange magic with their hooves.

This was entirely too nerdy for me.

…But I couldn’t possibly pass up a chance to torment a Crusader within the confines of her own escapism.

“Do you deliver?” I asked the stallion. “Discreetly?”

“Yep! If you gift-wrap it.”

With a flourish, I dropped two dozen golden coins upon the countertop. “The Silver Estate. Tonight, if you would.”

A grin overcame his face. “Absolutely.”




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