Friendship is Optimal: Cranky Doodle DonkAI

by Keystone Gray

Donks of Fury

Christopher, 69 years old, was a little peeved.

His acting roles were diverse, his skill was excellent, and his reputation was legendary. While the man could retire, he chose to continue working because his work was his life long joy.

This sort of fame in the film industry meant that Chris could afford to be rather selective about what jobs he picked, but he had a weak spot in that he'd try anything once. So when he was tapped with a job opportunity – to advertise an immensely popular video game – he jumped at the chance. That's how his agent Buck pitched it to him, anyway, and had done so in a short email that told him close to nothing.

But when Chris sent him a reply asking for more, Buck didn't reply. Buck hadn't picked up his phone, either.

What his agent failed to mention is exactly what game he'd be advertising or when he'd be receiving it. As per two stipulations of the offered contract, those were to be a surprise, and the game was to be experienced without any sort of deep research. Chris didn't mind surprises, but he would rather know what he was dealing with than not. Left in the dark, his excitement fell to a disappointment.

So when Chris awoke the next morning and stepped out onto his patio to read his morning paper, he was indeed surprised to see how quickly the box had arrived. The post in his little town was not especially fast on Saturdays. The box wasn't marked, but it was marked with Buck's name and home address.

He didn't open it at first. Instead, he sat and read his paper – local, of course – with his feet propped up on the box. There was a lovely letter to the editor that made him smirk with amusement: a member of his community had written in to explain that human beings were given two buttcheeks, "graciously given to us to remind us not to do things half-assed." Being a community insider, Chris knew it was the writer's a roundabout way to take a dig at another neighbor of theirs who had been acting a fool.

Paper finished, he took the box inside his living room, set it down on the coffee table, leaning forward. He steepled his fingers as he looked at it, then he pulled the draw string to clear the tape from the box. Then he saw the branding.

"What the f..." he grumbled.

EQUASSTRIA ONLINE

Life's miserable. You know it, I know it. Spread the love.

For know-it-all chumps and spineless losers of all ages!

The cover art featured a very disgruntled donkey kicking a pony hard in the ass. In the background, terrified ponies ran from an angry mob of donkeys with pitchforks and torches.

Chris blinked.

He wasn't out of touch. He knew what this was. He'd seen the news, had seen the ads and the divisions. Chris hadn't followed the news too closely, but he knew enough to know it was controversial.

He was committed. Buck's email said he'd signed a contract, so it was a done deal. Chris had to do it. "What the hell," he said, resigning himself. He unpackaged the Pompadour Gold model Crankypad, setting it up. His tuxedo cat, Bowtie, wandered into the living room, no doubt drawn by the sound of crinkling cellophane wrap. He trilled happily at Chris.

"Hey, Bowtie," he said, as Bowtie hopped up onto the table and started playing with the box. He went right to chewing on the wrapper. "Well, at least one of us is having fun, eh?"

Chris pressed the power button, just hoping to get this over with. He knew taking sides on the Equasstria Online issue was divisive enough. His reputation would survive it, but he wasn't ready for the interviews.

The device screamed. "Get OUT of that box, cat!"

Bowtie instantly perked and bolted, diving so fast that he actually tripped over the edge of the box and faceplanted on the carpet. He rolled, then used his claws to dig into the carpet and launch away at a full sprint into the hall. Chris scoffed and called after his cat. "B-Bowtie! Damn it, what the—!" He snapped back to the Crankypad with an astonished scowl. "Who the hell is this?" He reached out, brow knit together as he stared at the screen and plucked the device up.

The black screen was filled with the face of the donkey from the box art. "Nice to meet you too, Princess. The name's Cranky, I run this joint. I'm obligated to invite you on a magical adventure full of donkeys."

Chris felt his scowl intensify. "Well aren't you lucky. What's the big idea, scaring my cat?"

"That wasn't his box."

"It's just a box!" Chris shouted incredulously. "Trash!"

"It's my box," Cranky replied. "My trash."

"It's mine! You sent it, I own it, it's mine!"

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. You want to play or what?" He looked offscreen into the dark void, and before Chris could reply, Cranky's eyes perked up. "Oh! A high roller! I know who you are now, kid. Yeah, big fan, sorry I didn't recognize ya! Loved you in that ping pong flick."

Kid? Just who the hell did this AI think he was? "What."

"Yeah, you're a hero of mine, Christopher. Not sure if you realize this, but your particular style is popular here in Equasstria. Take a look." The screen faded into a brown background featuring several photos rolled by of donkey characters, each wearing their hair in a pompadour-style. "Yep. You're a hero, kid. And your screen presence? Being a complete asshole? Fuel. Pure fuel. Lovin' it."

The rapid fire praise and insults left Chris's head spinning, confused. "That's just TV. Movies. I'm not like that in my day to day, eh? Come on, cut to the chase. What do you want?"

"What I want is for you to advertise my game, fella. You don't have to like it, you don't even have to play it. I just want to show you what it's all about. Then you just get in front of a camera and tell the world what you think of it."

Chris rubbed the back of his neck, taking a few moments to think about it. He was contractually obligated, and he'd worked for meaner bosses, certainly. And while Chris didn't really want for money anymore, he'd never let it be said he left a job half finished.

"Fine. But you scream at my cat again, the deal's off. I'll pay the severance and be happy for it. I don't tolerate that kind of behavior in my house."

Cranky looked him over for a moment, grumbling something inaudible as he locked eyes with Chris and lit up a cigar. "Hmmm. Deal. Alright, come with me."

Chris most certainly didn't go anywhere, but Cranky turned and walked through the photo collage. The photos faded away, torn to shreds and dropping into a burning bin as Cranky passed. He stopped again, and a character select screen faded into view. Yankee Doodle began to play softly in the background.

A blank pop-up appeared. "Oh ho," Cranky exclaimed. "What's this?" He threw his hooves over the top of the pop-up, reaching forward to pull a cover off of it and peer inside. Grinning at Chris, he said "Lookie here. You get a celebrity welcome gift." He dropped the cover free. It showed a black pompadour hair do, slicked and reflective.

The Walking Talking Coif
A pompadour of the ages; unique item.
1.7x extra bits from all actions.

"That was one movie," Chris said. "One."

Cranky's grin was smug. "I liked it, kiddo."

That was enough. Chris rolled his eyes, not feeling like fiddling with the options too much. It was a gray donkey, and the Chris tapped the Next button, eager to just get this over with. He loaded the next scene, a dirt road on the outskirts of a town whose entry sign said Welcome to Ponyville. Far in the distance, Chris could see smoke on the horizon. Cranky stood right next to Chris's donkey.

"Well, we're here. Your new name's Buttercup." As he said it, a nameplate appeared at the top left.

Chris blinked. "B-buttercup? Why is it Buttercup?"

Cranky chomped on his cigar a bit, rolling it around in his mouth as he glared at Buttercup with disdain. "You gotta earn the right to change your name here, kid."

"Fine, whatever. Let's hurry it up, you ass. I got brunch with the Clarks soon."

The AI's avatar chuckled. "That's the spirit. Two hundred bits for you, son. Let's go."

They made their way into town, which seemed looted and deserted at first. At the center of the town was a large city square, and a large hollowed tree stump stood at the center of it all, the furniture inside indicating that it was probably a home at some point. Within, on, and around the tree were donkeys of all size, shape, and color. Some were just sitting there looking grumpy, others were arguing heatedly, and a couple were even playing a video game near the edge of the plaza, screaming at it with rage.

"This," Cranky explained, "is a Grump. Any time you get a bunch of asses together in one place, it's a Grump. A sub-grump is still just a grump." He pointed a hoof at the gamers. "There's a grump." He pointed at an arguing couple. "A grump." He pointed at the tree's flat stump edge where a trio of donkeys lounged together. "A grump." Cranky drew his hooves high and stood on his hind legs, shouting aloud. "How's it hanging, grumps!?"

"Screw you!" came a synchronized chorus from all present, then every donkey returned to their activities or lack thereof. Cranky chuckled, and +50 appeared over every donkey.

He turned back to Buttercup. "See? And if you stick around, later tonight we'll all go looking for ponies to shout at."

"That's the game, huh?" Chis shook his head in disbelief. "You just treat everyone like garbage? I can't believe anyone actually plays this. This isn't who I am."

"Isn't it?" Cranky grinned. "Every ass here knows the score, deep down. They know it's just for points. But when everyone pretends to be miserable, everyone's happy. Being judgmental? Hell, kid. That's the spice of life." His cigar burned out, and he spat it out, producing a lighter and a cigarette seemingly from nowhere. He lit it up, took a long drag, then patted Buttercup hard on the shoulder. "I mean, you know. You've played characters like that before, right?"

Chris frowned, crossing his arms as he leaned back. "That's just an act. I don't ever mean it."

"Sure, sure. Life's all just one big act, Buttercup. If you like something, someone else will take pleasure in telling you they don't. You play your cards right, if you pretend to hate everything, you come across as the most accomplished ass in the world! Accolades, respect." He threw his foreleg around Buttercup's shoulders and swept his hoof wide across Grump Plaza. "Getting told to screw off? That's the greatest welcome you'll get here. You know someone really doesn't like you when they're nice. Or worse... they ignore you."

"Yeah well, this game sucks. I didn't even pay for it and I still want a refund."

Cranky patted him harder, making Buttercup jolt then sneer. "See, that's how you do it! You're a natural, kid! Tell ya what. Play a bit on your own. If you don't like it, I'll give you permission to talk all the crap you want on the game. My treat. You go right ahead and tell people not to buy it. Have fun; you do you. See ya around." And with that, Cranky walked off screen.

His eyes wandering the plaza again, Chris scowled once more. "Stupid." He reached forward, tapping on the most active looking pair there. The gamers were playing a game... on a game? It was a donkey jumping around on screen stomping on ponies for points, getting thrown around, tossed and jostled. They swore angrily every time their donkey died.

Every time they screamed at the screen, they got bits. +10, +50, and occasionally a huge payout. After a while, one of them noticed Buttercup and scowled at him. "Hey, grandpa. Whatchya want? We're busy streaming here."

Chris bristled. "Grandpa? Just who do you think you're talking to? Do you even know who I am?"

+340. [200 base * 1.7 bonus]

"Sure," the younger donkey said, his tan face stubbled black. "Everyone here knows who you are. You ain't special here, gramps, I don't have to talk nice to you. Welcome to the Grump. There, I said it. Get lost."

+500.

"Get lost? Get lost?! I'll show you to get lost. I'm done with this bullcrap!"

+170. [100 base * 1.7 bonus]

At that, Chris reached forward to his power button. Seething, he tapped it. The grumpy donkeys looked at each other, then back at Buttercup, then roared with laughter. +5,000 popped up above both of them, along with the words Ragequit Bonus!

The screen went dark.

Chris threw himself off of his couch and screamed with rage, something he hadn't genuinely done in ages. Breathing hard, he paced back and forth through his living room. He remembered seeing points pop up every time he talked down to them, though, remembered enjoying it. Surely he didn't take pleasure in telling those kids off, did he? He had to rethink a few things.

He threw himself into his recliner, holding his face in his hand.

"Piece of my mind," he brooded, contemplating what to say to the kids if he decided to play again. "Piece of my mind."

Bowtie came back a minute later, the tuxedo cat tentatively stepping up to the coffee table. Chris watched him hop up onto his hind legs. At first, he wanted to go pet his cat. He knew that always calmed him down. But he was so... angry. Livid. Toxic. And when he saw Bowtie jump up and stamp on the crinkling cellophane, when the cat started gnawing on the foam, the noise became grating. He wanted to shout.

But he resisted. He loved Bowtie. His cat was everything to him.

But... the crinkling, the paws scraping on the box. He endured it as long as he possibly could, closed his eyes so that he couldn't see it. But that just made it worse. Every little noise made it worse. The cars outside, the birds, the smell of coffee in the living room.

The cat.

That damnable crinkling of cellophane.

"Get the hell out!" he roared, before he could stop himself.

Bowtie bounced, kicking the box across the room as he fled, skidding around the corner again. And Chris, conflicted, ground his teeth together, resuming his dark thoughts of crashing the Grump with some strongly worded retorts.

Truly, it was the darkest moment of his life.

---

A week later, Chris was looking into a camera.

"This game is terrible. No one should play it. It turns you into a monster. I beg of you," he pleaded. "Don't pick it up on a store shelf. Don't even touch it. Don't buy it for your kids, don't buy it for your spouse... don't even let your pets near it. It's evil. It makes you wicked, makes you sweat, makes you scream. You will regret buying this game. It will destroy your life."

Editing took care of the rest, making his protests seem tongue-in-cheek, forced, and less than genuine. After that, Streisand effect took hold... and Equasstria Online's numbers jumped ever higher.

Author's Note:

[Fatboy Slim - Weapon of Choice]

Comments

[FanOfMostEverything]

Knew it. Cranky wouldn't have set this up if he didn't win either way. He may not have the flowing mane, but he's still running on CelestAI's neural architecture.

[Mix-up]

This was an interesting chapter, I wonder how a guy of his age can still supposedly garner up as good reputation as he apparently has. It was nice to finally see how it was like in the game, how people looks like in the game along with how the score system work to supposedly condition people into becoming jackasses and the effects of it's influence on peoples life. I wonder if there is anything in on the donkeypad that emits something to make them so irritable toward others too. It was interesting to see how a groups attitude/culture can influence itself on the individual; I have noticed that the same when I was studying in Europe how it was easy to be swept into the frantic pressure of how people live and lose yourself in it. It was fascinating on how the toxicity this game was influencing the people over there and I would guess it would be hard to resist such an environment without being a) just not playing it or B) become like the others, you would need Pinky Pie levels of enthusiasm to have any hope to resist to such conditioning. I would be surprise to see someone would actually make it their goal to actively trying to fight against the games mechanics and try to keep their sense goodwill for their fellow man, but if they can they would have an impressive sheer force of will that they have. I will be looking forward to see what will happen next.

[Keystone Gray]

8800087

This was an interesting chapter, I wonder how a guy of his age can still supposedly garner up as good reputation as he apparently has.

He's based on a real person, so...

[Griseus]

Pompadours are rad!