• Published 11th Dec 2017
  • 4,619 Views, 527 Comments

Pony-Me™ - TheMajorTechie



What happens when you realize that your life is a simulation? Well, you put the headset back on.

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I͗t̝̝͓͆ͩ̇ ̘̫͖͕͚̬̩͛ͧ̑ͥ̆ͫͩa̟͇̭̝̦͑̽ͤͧ͂l̢̜̼͉̺͔l ̈͋͠e͕̲̦̗̼ͣͧ͂ͥ͒n͐d̸̎̊̉̿̉ͪ̚s ̠͉̭̑̏ͯhͤ̋͆̚ê̿̓̒̄̄r͖̪ͬ̀e̺̥̪͙͇̮̟ͨͮ̓ͨͯ͐̃.̼̞̮̯̣

Author's Note:

April fools! :trollestia:

Twilight awoke with a jolt, her hooves scrambling to her face as she tore off another headset.

"What." She deadpanned, staring towards the labeling on the side.

Human-Simulator 2: Electric Scootaloo.

She stared down to her hooves. Hooves, not hands. Had it really been just another simulation?

The mare glanced up just in time to be smacked in the face by a projectile ICBS (InterContinental Ballistic Spike).

(Also, it's Spike the dragon, not the impaling Spike. Unless you want it to be so.)


Lisa groaned, placing a weary hand on the smooth surface of the headset strapped to her face. "Ugh..." The girl groaned, lazily pulling the device off and rubbing her eyes, "When is this gonna stop?"

Do I even want to know what's on the label?

She placed a hand on the side of the headset that lay beside her, tracing the engraved lettering on the side.

...The...Sims...25...Equestria?

"What."

The pillow she lay on then spontaneously imploded, sending the girl tumbling.


"No..." Twilight whispered, pawing at her headset, "No, not again... not this time..."

"Welcome to the hubworld of Equestron." A robotic voice echoed throughout the nearly-empty room, "User xXxTw1br1t3-SperklzxXx, please exit the simulation designated Humans of the Future in a safe and orderly manner. We hope to see you again soon."

The mare lifted herself from the cot with a grunt, squinting in the bright lights that surrounded her. "Spike?" She called, "Are you there? Hello?"

No response.

The mare proceeded to trip on a perfectly-placed banana peel and fall face-first onto the sleek, metallic flooring.


"Blerghlysh." Craegsmuth gurgled, its majestic space-noodles flowing in the wind of the great Planet Ketchup, tearing the large slice of bread from its face.

At this point, reality has stopped responding. As did the logical functions of all of those who read and/or write this chapter.

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