Life in the Mind of Uncle Discord

by I Thought I Was Toast

Chapter 3: Mind Games

Chapter 3: Mind Games

“Bishop to A5. Check,” came the voice as the strange stone statue that was his bishop got up and moved. While it was crafted of the most exquisite marble it managed to move fluidly, cartwheeling to its new position before turning towards me with an evil grin.

“Horseapples!” I swore, “Not again!”

When Discord had said he’d have mind games for me earlier he apparently decided that we’d be playing board games for training that night. Unfortunately, as with every other thing he’s said, board game for him means something completely different from any sane pony's interpretation. First of all, he didn’t really think the board was necessary. “Why use a board when the world can be your board?” he said.

The second difference was that he never remembered to mention that in his board games you are the pieces. We’d played 3-Dimensional Battleship where I was every member of the crew for every one of my ships. Let me tell you, its not fun watching yourself get torn to pieces as another part of your ship is destroyed. There were bodies floating everywhere, and, of course, there was too much blood for me to will it all away. I was forced to futilely launch attacks on ships I couldn’t see while thousands of dead versions of me floated by being picked at by sharks. It didn’t help that Discord cheated. I only hit him once, and the only reason I did was because he decided a suicide attack would be fun.

He’d spawned his ship on top of one of mine and without thinking I had another ship of mine fire at it. My shot nicked his ship and blew up the rest of the one he spawned by. I had to wonder what it said about me that I’d kill myself thousands of times to hurt him once. I didn’t even get any of his crew. He had temporarily evacuated all of them to safety.

Blasting my own ship had really hurt me though. The thing about being your own pieces in a board game is that it really is you. When your piece, or any of the multiple pieces you play, dies so does a little bit of you. It wasn’t outright murder like before, but a sort of erosion of the self. You would disappear piece by piece. Memories would fade, perception would blur, soon all that was left was the nagging feeling you were doing this all for some reason but you couldn’t say what. Luckily for me, Discord was gracious enough to at least gather the little chunks of me that washed away from my mind as the night went on. He’d graciously return them to me in the morning so I could savor our... experience.

What he didn’t know was that I was smart enough to make copies of my memories and have them constantly fed to me. If you have no idea who you are or what you’re doing you don’t really have a chance to beat the guy I was facing. I would need everything I had to have a hope of beating him.

Having a hope, however, was different than having a chance.

We’d moved on from Battleship however and were playing chess now. The bishop grinned a maniacal grin at me. It was rather unnerving because it was my grin. Discord was apparently recycling some of the more… dark memories I had to make the pieces for his games now. That grin, for example, came from the other night when I’d held that knife in my hand. The maniacal grin of a pony ready to plunge the knife into the heart and giggle madly as every little last drop of blood spouted forth.

I guess he decided I’d be destroying myself tonight. Looking around the board I saw my strategy was failing. I’d tried getting in a deadlock with him where we’d end up in a draw but once I’d made my first critical mistake things had gone downhill. Guess it was time to start doing a little cheating of my own.

“Knight to A5. Take the Rook with you to B6.”

The little version of me that was my knight got down off his horse clunked over in his armor to the rook next to him. Tying a rope to the castle the rook was standing on he went back and dragged it after him as his horse leapt into battle. It didn’t really make sense for a pony to ride a horse but if that’s how Discord wanted the pieces to look that’s what he got. As the knight rammed his lance through the heart of the partially insane bishop memory his horse twisted, slinging the rook around and bringing him crashing into the poor little gibbering pawn that was guarding the bishop.

As the blood fountained from the pieces they let out an ethereal scream, and I was lashed with the memories they represented. As I re-experienced the bishop’s memory it took a new path. I saw myself drive the knife home, saw the blood begin to spout, and saw myself giggling madly as I gave in to exhaustion and blood loss. The blood swirled in the fog that had terrified me so much before, and I watched as the faces came screaming and wailing lamentations and pleas for release.

In my maddened state I was only too happy to oblige. I willed myself into the Dwair. Blood soaking my coat black, leaving wild and twisting red marks as it trailed down my coat as I stalked the halls.

I tried to pull away from this corrupted memory but its hold was too strong. I walked down the hall simultaneously feeling revolt at what I knew would happen from the real me and the bloodthirsty glee of anticipation from the remnants of the bishop. I found the first pony in the kitchens. It was Soarin, eating as usual.

I didn’t even give him a chance to run. I slammed the knife in his side and willed it into a barbed spear, using it to toss him crashing into the table. The oven door opened, slamming on his head and producing a tray of chocolate chip cookies. The card read 11 but I ignored the better than perfect score. I waited till he managed to regain enough coherence from my attack for him to look at me and see who it was. He opened his mouth as if to say something but I snapped his neck with a twitch of my will. Blood rolled through the kitchen, sticky and pungent from the heat of the kitchens it chugged outward ever so slowly as I walked towards the door.

Spitfire walked in from the door across the kitchens just as I was about to leave. “Soarin you al-“ her words cut off as she saw the carnage. I turned around smiling viciously. Blood still poured from my wound but what did I care? I could just will myself more. It was a mere inconvenience. She started backing away but I slammed the door closed.

The part of me that was still real, that wasn’t part of this twisted not memory was fading. I was becoming one with the memory, one with its world if I didn’t do something I would be swept away and all this would become a reality for my friends.

It wasn’t right!

It wasn’t right!

IT WASN’T RIGHT!!!

Suddenly the little bit of me I had left blazed forth from the cold dark pits of this depravity of a mind I was falling into. I opened the door. I closed it. I opened it. I closed it.

“RUN!” I yelled to Spitfire in one of the brief moments I had control, “Get the others to safety! If I lose, this becomes real!” My minds warred with each other as each version tried to gain sway over the other. I would burn my insanity with righteous fury only to have it stab me back with blood-curdling cold.

The memory world faded into the void and it was just him and me duking it out. I couldn’t let this happen. I couldn’t. I couldn’t. I COULDN’T!

And suddenly it was over. The life force of the memory had been snuffed out as I’d gained more and more resolve to fight him. In the end he had just given up, just as he must have to bring that knife home in the first place.

I was back on the battlefield of chess pieces as if nothing had happened. “Check,” came Discord’s voice as he made his move.

Screw this. I was done playing this game by anything resembling the rules. He wanted to win? Let him but I’m taking him down in the process. “Queen to G5! Check!”

“Oh come now… That’s not a legal move. The rules clearly state when in check you must play a move that gets you out of check.”

“To hell with rules!” I yelled, “Like you ever follow them yourself! You want me? Come take me! I’ve already given orders to take you if I die next turn. If you take my king I take yours!”

Discord was silent for awhile, as if considering what to do. His pride would never let him lose, even if I was making him lose in a suicide attack, but it also wouldn’t allow him to avoid a chance to take and triumph in a perfectly good win. We would both lose and both win if he took me, so he couldn’t make that move, or any other for that matter, because if he took it he lost and if he didn’t take it he passed up a win.

I smiled at my small triumph but it didn’t last for long. “You know what?” he whispered in spine-tinglingly over-cheery manner, “I’m bored of this game. How about we play a different one?”

The world blurred and swirled about. Flashes of darkness pulsed in the myriad colors of the world as he plucked at its strings. When the world resolved I was strapped to a table spread eagle. It was a dreary grey room filled with whirring machines and gizmos. One of them I recognized as a machine that measures your heart rate. Wherever I was it was definitely not a board game.

I heard a door open behind me as a pony walked into the room. His hooves struck the floor with a measured pace as he advanced slowly towards the table. When he reached me he stopped and looked down. It was me with that horrible grin again.

“Oh hell no!” I said, “I killed you.”

“You killed a version of me,” I replied with sadisdic glee, “Snapped his meager mind in two and threw it in the trash. Did you really think there would be only one place in your life where you could have ended up a monster like that?” He giggled madly at the implication of having called himself a monster. “There are so many ways you could have ended up as twisted if not more twisted than that pathetic wretch and Discord can see them all. It’s such a shame you haven’t given in yet but the Law of Large Numbers says it’s only a matter of time. Maybe I’ll be the one to break you?”

“What happened to our nice night of board games?” I asked sarcastically.

“Ever hear of a game called Operation?” was the equally sardonic reply. I gulped in response. Was he really gonna take it this far? “Thought so…” said my crazy knife wielding other said smugly, “Now where did I put that knife?”

I struggled at the bonds while my other sharpened his blade. I tried everything I could think of, willing myself to freedom, willing a much more peaceful place into existence, even plain old boring normal unicorn magic for once, all to no avail. I couldn’t escape because not only did I have Discord’s will to face but my own. On some twisted level of my subconscious I must either have believed what this little punk was saying about wanting to go on a murderous rampage or I really and truly wanted myself to suffer.

My other self finished sharpening the knife and walked towards the table I was on. “Where should I start?” he said grinning down at me with the glassy eyes of one who’s given in to insanity. He carved away at my body. This wasn’t a game. It was a sick joke. I laughed to try to take away the pain but as he took out my funny bone the urge to laugh just died. Can’t laugh without a sense of humor. I tried to think of all my dreams for a better world but then he cut out my wishbone. Can’t dream without something to wish on. I sort of gave up for a while after that. Discord had more than won this round of training. One of the last things taken out was my broken heart and that was when I stopped caring enough to pay attention.

And again thanks to John Perry for proofreading. I am so bad at grammar.