Wilford Warfstache (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
cottoncandypink) wrote2017-03-07 02:20 pm
cottoncandypink) wrote2017-03-07 02:20 pm
Unless someone opens up a save so old, it pre-dates everything leading up to it
It was undeniably the same person. There had been a lot of resets during the Slender Man story, but there had also been a lot of déjà vu. Wilford had just ignored it at the time, because it was a difficult story, especially for someone with effectively zero field experience. For a long time, he’d assumed the reach was just farther than he’d originally realised.
But it wasn’t. It had just been him and Billy, the entire time. They didn’t have the crew they had now. They didn’t have help. But they did have competition. Wilford remembered that now – or at least, he thought he remembered that. All of the resets and going back and forth and chronic déjà vu had muddied everything about the story, but there was someone else. And Wilford knew he had reported on this man’s death. It should have been permanent, if that were the case. But something had happened. Someone had opened up an old save and undid everything.
But who?
It couldn’t have been the same guy who had broken into Freddy Fazbear’s. The other guy had already been the victim of an Event. And Events are unavoidable once they happen. That’s why they’re Events.
Unless someone opens up a save so old, it pre-dates everything leading up to it. Then anything’s fair game.
Save scumming is one of those things everybody knows about, but nobody ever encounters. There’s always a friend of a friend of a friend who knows somebody, but the farther back you trace that thread, the more distant the friend who knows somebody becomes. Nobody has ever been able to prove a single instance of save scumming. Ever. By its very nature, it’s completely untraceable. But it is noticeable. Do it too many times, or go back far enough, and you’ll begin to give yourself away. Just like this man had done.
Nobody said ‘swag’ back then. But why was that what stuck out so much in his mind? Swag. It stuck in his mind like a thorn. An odd anachronism that was the the key to unravelling the entire question.
Wilford knew the answer; he’d just been avoiding going down that path. He’d solved the puzzle, and he knew he was right. There wasn’t a shred of doubt about it in his mind. But there was a new challenge. Could he prove it? Could he be the first person to document a case of someone else save scumming?
That would sure be something, wouldn’t it?
There was only one way to prove it though. And Wilford was the only person on the planet with the means to do so. But it wasn’t going to be fun. In fact, it would be hell. And there would be no going back.
He looked up at the dog where it stood trying to lick a hole through the wall, in the same spot as always. Such a stupid, pointless creature. It would be gone. Wilford would never have to see it again. He watched the dog ruin the paint on the wall and slapped his laptop shut. There were some things he’d have to take care of before opening his save log and going through with this completely idiotic plan.
But it wasn’t. It had just been him and Billy, the entire time. They didn’t have the crew they had now. They didn’t have help. But they did have competition. Wilford remembered that now – or at least, he thought he remembered that. All of the resets and going back and forth and chronic déjà vu had muddied everything about the story, but there was someone else. And Wilford knew he had reported on this man’s death. It should have been permanent, if that were the case. But something had happened. Someone had opened up an old save and undid everything.
But who?
It couldn’t have been the same guy who had broken into Freddy Fazbear’s. The other guy had already been the victim of an Event. And Events are unavoidable once they happen. That’s why they’re Events.
Unless someone opens up a save so old, it pre-dates everything leading up to it. Then anything’s fair game.
Save scumming is one of those things everybody knows about, but nobody ever encounters. There’s always a friend of a friend of a friend who knows somebody, but the farther back you trace that thread, the more distant the friend who knows somebody becomes. Nobody has ever been able to prove a single instance of save scumming. Ever. By its very nature, it’s completely untraceable. But it is noticeable. Do it too many times, or go back far enough, and you’ll begin to give yourself away. Just like this man had done.
Nobody said ‘swag’ back then. But why was that what stuck out so much in his mind? Swag. It stuck in his mind like a thorn. An odd anachronism that was the the key to unravelling the entire question.
Wilford knew the answer; he’d just been avoiding going down that path. He’d solved the puzzle, and he knew he was right. There wasn’t a shred of doubt about it in his mind. But there was a new challenge. Could he prove it? Could he be the first person to document a case of someone else save scumming?
That would sure be something, wouldn’t it?
There was only one way to prove it though. And Wilford was the only person on the planet with the means to do so. But it wasn’t going to be fun. In fact, it would be hell. And there would be no going back.
He looked up at the dog where it stood trying to lick a hole through the wall, in the same spot as always. Such a stupid, pointless creature. It would be gone. Wilford would never have to see it again. He watched the dog ruin the paint on the wall and slapped his laptop shut. There were some things he’d have to take care of before opening his save log and going through with this completely idiotic plan.