"Damn, I just left the room for a few minutes and my post is blowing up like never before."
[...I can't feel any chaos, just pure joy]
"What? Mad because it's not going your way?"
I set the milk glass down on the table and stared at the computer.
Over 178 comments, and it was still climbing.
"Alright, let's see... 'Outer Park is truly a dedicated developer, I swear I'll make my kid play every game they make' and... 'I'm pretty sure I'll jerk off to this studio if I have time, they deserve the cum—' okay, enough, this isn't 4chan!"
[Ehh, actually there is some chaos, I'm not complaining even if it's a little]
"I didn't ask you."
Then he read more comments—most of them cheerful and praising my team.
"Good. Our group's reputation is skyrocketing. Since we're not tightly controlled by publishers (let's be honest, there are no publishers), and we're indie, we're pretty free."
[Yea yea whatever, just get me enough chaos]
Guh, is this outer god's brain filled with nothing but chaos?
"I'm looking forward to the future of Baldi mods—let's see what they come up with." I smiled, turned off the light, and went to sleep.
And that was the most regretful decision of his life—for underestimating the creativity of players.
***
"Hey Peter."
"Huh?" I rubbed my eyes and looked at Harry approaching my desk.
"Did you just allow players to mod our game?"
"Uh, yeah? What's up?"
"...look at this."
I took off my glasses, wiped them, and put them back on to see clearly (though I could see fine without them).
In front of me was a 20-minute video about Baldi—with mods.
Ha, that was fast. I only enabled it yesterday.
...wait, something's off.
"What the... What is this?!" My face twisted in horror as I watched the video.
They modded Baldi... into Hitler, holding a torch and chasing a Jewish kid.
"WHAT THE HECK DID THEY MOD??"
No, the real problem: WHY WAS IT APPROVED??
"Peter... I know you meant well, but this is the internet." Harry held back a laugh, speaking seriously.
"...bruh, you're kidding."
And Harry scrolled down further—this time, a mod about Hassan, a famous Twatch streamer who really loves his dog. (Thunder dog)
"Alright, this is going too far." I grimaced, taking off my glasses so I could rub my eyes with my hands.
[Peter...]
'Don't say a damn thing!!'
[You did this for me, didn't you?!] Nya's voice sounded happier than usual.
"...?"
[I thought you didn't care about me, but letting others mod means more players, more fear, and especially—this fear and chaos is high quality!]
'...if you say so.'
[See? I have good taste! Choosing you was the best decision! When this world is fully turned into Wonderland by me, you'll rule it with me!]
'OKAY, THAT ONE'S NEVER HAPPENING!'
"Are you talking to another personality?" Harry asked.
"Talking to a god."
"...ok? Anyway, did you bring the thing I asked for?"
"Yeah, got it."
I pulled out a box filled with a bunch of small containers used for takeout food.
We decided to sell fried chicken... inspired by Gus Fring's chicken.
Don't worry, no 'candy' inside.
"Great, do you know how to cook?"
"Nope."
"Oh... Who do we get then?"
"I'll do it."
A black dude walked up, face dead serious.
"What's your name?"
"Gus Fried."
Who the hell named him that?
"Favorite show?"
"Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul."
"Approved! Looking forward to some tasty fried chicken!" Harry stuck out his hand for a shake.
"Don't worry... it'll be delicious," that guy said mysteriously.
Hope he doesn't put any 'candy' in it...
"Alright, I'm out!" Harry said, leaving with Gus Fried.
"PETER!!"
Oh, here comes Gwen.
She charged straight at me and crawled inside my shirt.
Of course, the whole class noticed.
"Goddamn it—get out! Have some shame??"
"Eheheh, Peter's smell~ Let me check if you washed down there."
"GET LOST!"
Dealing with her is exhausting.
"By the way... why isn't Emma here?" I asked Gwen.
"Ah! You're paying attention to someone else and not me??"
"That's basic courtesy to friends! Act normal!"
Gwen finally climbed out of me and put a hand on her chin, thinking.
"No idea!"
"You're as useless as the outer god in my head."
[Oi]
"Actually, she's not in class—she seems to be absent without leave."
"And you said you didn't know? At least you're still more useful than the outer god in my head."
[You bastard! What the hell do you mean???]
"Forget her! Are you joining the sports festival?!" She looked at me excitedly.
"Nope."
"Huh?! Why not??"
"The school only lets two people per class represent, Harry's in, I'm not—basically I don't want to be the center of attention, and no one believes I'm actually fit... even though I got an A in PE."
"That's not fair! I'll file a complaint with the school!"
"Stop right there!!" I grabbed Gwen's shirt so she couldn't move.
The whole class watched me and Gwen acting like a weird couple, their mouths tasting sweetness.
'They're a perfect match, huh?' the entire class thought.
"Fine, we'll go visit Emma later," I said.
She probably has some issue if she's not at school. Harry's busy, so I'll drag Gwen along.
"Heh! I'll see what my love rival looks like when she sees me lying under your crotch!"
"Don't say that in my class, you pervert."
Ding dong!
"Oh, class is starting—go back to your class, Gwen."
But Gwen just stood there.
"...what?"
"Give me a goodbye kiss and I'll go."
"..."
She's bolder than usual today. Is it her birthday or something?
And then the teacher walked in and started the lesson. I sat attentively while Gwen just stood there, waiting for the kiss.
The whole class stared at Gwen in confusion.
'You're really just gonna stand there?'
***
"I hate you," Gwen pouted, cheeks puffed, looking away.
"Yeah."
"Don't just 'yeah' me! Show some concern! I'm a girl! Girls live on emotions!"
"Then later I'll lend you my handkerchief."
"Perfect."
[She bounces back fast.]
Gwen and I walked to Emma's house.
"...?" We both stopped, staring at the people in front of Emma's house.
Police.
"What's going on?" A wave of anxiety hit me.
Gwen and I approached a nearby officer.
"Um... sir?"
"Hm? What is it, kid?"
"What happened?"
"Ah... there was a murder."
"...what?"
Then a body was carried out of Emma's house.
Fear and dread surged—I stared at the covered corpse.
Even so, I could make out a few things.
The body had been dismembered, chunks of flesh missing, deformed.
Like it had been hacked apart with a meat cleaver.
And the most noticeable part—the hair.
"...not Emma."
It was Emma's dad.
"...what the hell is going on?"