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If you are reading this, I know you are either a fan of creepypastas or are willing to try reading one and see if you like it. Of course, when you’re done, you consider each story’s plausibility, but knowing the whole time that it is fake. This is something one of my favorite YouTubers does. This YouTuber, of course, is Mutahar from Some Ordinary Gamers. I watch his videos all the time and am a big fan, always preferring his commentary and reading over just reading it even got me inspired to write my own. I sat down to start one called “The Boy with the Broken Game Cube,” but I didn’t get enough inspiration to come up with a good story. But, luckily, the inspiration came soon enough, and I started a new story, this story, called “Kill This Many.”

In order to fully understand this story, you have to know a little bit about me. However, for security purposes, I am going to give everyone I mention in this story, including myself, an alias to go by. I am Mark, and my two best friends are Adam and Michael. All three of us live in the same neighborhood, with Michael living across the street from me and Adam’s house being a 2 minutes’ walk for both of us. We’re all into video games, especially Adam and I, and hang out together almost every day, until our parents practically drag us apart. We used to be so happy. Adam and I are real Nintendo junkies, and play on my Wii U and our 3DS’s all the time. Michael and I own Xbox Ones, and Adam has a 360. There was never a sad moment in our lives, I even shrugged off the death of my sister and continued to enjoy my three passions: Video games, music, and hockey.

It was the start of our freshman year when Adam started acting slightly depressed. He never had as much fun as he used to, and that’s when he dragged me into the world of creepypastas. We read them all the time, together and separately. Eventually, this fad wore off and we were back to video games. I, however, kept watching the SOG videos, continuing to be fascinated by how excellent or terrible some could be. Then came the day where I tried to write my own.

I had given up after 15 minutes due to a lack of inspiration, and just sat down to play Xbox. I didn’t know what game to play, and since my Xbox game selection was by far sparser then my Wii/Wii U collection, I basically had three games I enjoyed to choose between: Rocket League, Star Wars Battlefront, and NHL 16. None of these games were exactly creepypasta worthy, so I just gave up on the story and decided to just play. I started up Rocket League, made some minor adjustments to my battle car’s appearance, and started a doubles match. I was playing with a random stranger on my team whose gamertag escaped me, and was playing against KillThisMany and KillThisMany(1). Just passing it off as some 11 year olds who thought it would be funny to incorporate the guest number into their gamertag and adding “kill” to it, I played the game. I scored 2 goals, had an assist, and made a save in the game, giving me the mvp when we won 3-1. The odd thing is, at the end, it displayed the amount of demolitions each player had. At the time I didn’t notice, but looking back on it, they never show this stat. Beside my name was the number one. In the chat box: “KillThisMany: You have passed.

KillThisMany has left the game.

KillThisMany(1) has left the game.”

I don’t exactly understand why I saw this that day, but I shrugged it off and chalked it up to needing more sleep. I fell asleep on the couch across from my Xbox that night, and woke up not hungry. I didn’t have any nightmares, or any dreams at all really, because again I didn’t know exactly what was happening, and I’m not really that smart. Any normal person would have talked to somebody, but I’m the kind of “creepypasta protagonist” who buys into all the shit and continues to play.

Adam came over that day. He wanted to play Battlefront, and we did for a bit. I didn’t notice that there was blood for the first time while I was playing, but now I remember it vividly. I played too much Call of Duty at friends’ houses to notice I guess, but again, maybe I’m just stupid.

“Wanna play NHL?” I ask, knowing the response immediately.

“Hell no!” is the response from Adam. He hates sports.

“We can just fight the whole game…” I tease him with the offer.

“…Fine,” says Adam. He’s never agreed to play the game before, and I was so excited he wanted to play that I swapped the discs and started it up.

“You play a bit first, I wanna see how to play.” Adam intones as he pulls out his phone. I shrug and start up the Be a Pro mode, where my character was a rookie for the Carolina Hurricanes and the league’s leading scorer. I wasn’t playing long before my teammate gets injured. After a hit from behind into the boards, Nathan Gerbe is unable to get up. I sigh and spam the A button, trying to get to the next faceoff as fast as I can. I skipped the animation where he gets up and gets wheeled off the ice on a stretcher, because it’s not fun to watch. But then something odd happened. The very next play, James Wisnewski gets slashed on the wrist and has to leave the game. This isn’t making any sense, I think to myself as he skates off the ice on his own power. I’ve never seen two injuries in a row before that moment. The next two plays go as normal, though the crowd seemed a bit subdued, although the commentators were as repetitive and annoying as usual. I end up getting into a fight later, and that’s when Adam finally looked up.

“Finally, some real gameplay!” Adam cheers me on as my red clad player takes on Johnny Boychuk of the New York Islanders. This is a mismatch, I think to myself, prepared to watch my 5’6” player get the living daylights beaten out of him. I win the fight though, and after delivering the knockout punch, Boychuk lays on the ice, unmoving. I press the X button to raise my arms over my head in celebration, but instead my player grabs his head and skates to the penalty box.

The game then ends abruptly, for no reason, and I’m taken back to the hub screen. A notification from the league appears, reading, “Johnny Boychuk has suffered a severe head injury. It could possibly be fatal. The trainers will continue to keep an eye on him.”

“That’s weird,” Adam says. “Was that supposed to happen?” I didn’t respond. I didn’t know how to respond.

Eventually I say, “You only get injury notifications for your teammates. And a fatality,” I pause, “I didn’t even think that was in the game.”

After that, I had to keep playing. There was probably more stuff in this game that I didn’t know about. Besides, I had to know if Boychuk was okay. He was one of my favorite players when he played for the Bruins.

The next game was an away game. We were traveling to Pittsburgh to play the Penguins. I had had a strange demotion to second line. The coach is supposed to tell you when you’re moved around. There wasn’t anything especially crazy worth noting from this game, just a ton of injuries. Now, when I say a ton, I mean A TON. Almost every player was injured, and why I cannot tell you. Adam, who has an explanation for everything, hadn’t a thing to say. I started to scream.

“Screw this!” I yelled and decided to open up an online game where nothing could go wrong. There was just one thing off. When I got back to the hub screen, I got a notification from the league.

“Johnny Boychuk has passed away.”

I couldn’t even play straight after that. Adam was starting to get a little uncomfortable, and I was going crazy. I opened up an online versus match, and found an opponent, and started the game as the Calgary Flames. My opponent also picked a team from Calgary. He chose the Calgary Hitmen of the WHL. The team selection seemed odd to me, as it was junior versus professional, until I saw the gamertag of my opponent.

KillThisMany(2)

Right about there is where I snapped. From my demolition in Rocket League to my murder of Johnny Boychuk, I had killed two people. Adam didn’t even know what to say. He slept over that night, but neither of us got any sleep.

This isn’t the kind of thing you go reporting to the police. What would they do? I just decided not to play Xbox anymore. But every time I played Mario Kart or Smash Bros. or Splatoon online, my opponent was always “KillThisMany” followed by a number. Always an increment of one. This shouldn’t even be possible, as Nintendo would not allow a user to pick this as their name. Eventually, I gave up. I didn’t kill anybody anymore, and I just stopped video games for good.

Now many of you are going to believe this is fake. And the truth? Yes, this is fake. Because life is fake. If it can be taken from you, it doesn't really exist. There’s always three people: Someone who gives the order, someone who carries the order out, and the target. If you do not execute the order, then the target becomes you. I’ve never won a game of hockey since, all of my piano recitals have been failures, my girlfriend broke up with me, my parents got divorced, my mom’s house got robbed, and I got sent to a mental hospital after telling this story to my guidance counselor. Adam and Michael visit me every day, but really, I’ve lost everything. And in the end, if I still have to kill this many, I’ll do it myself.

The above text is a passage we found next to the bedside of Mark’s hospital bed. Head Psychiatrists say that the story behind the passage is that Mark has slowly been going insane since the passing of his sister, refusing to acknowledge its existence. Adam later slit his wrists and Michael jumped off a bridge. The police and the hospital dismissed this story and everything went on normally from there. Mark is still contained in a more protective, cell-like hospital room, while Adam becomes his new roommate. Security camera footage and audio suggest that both have become psychopaths, and both are now restrained.

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