Chapter Text
Ame hadn’t expected much when she booted up the game. She’d picked it at some old garage sale, along with a handful of other games. Which turned out to be duds, but it wasn’t a bad haul for a couple bucks. Luckily, this game seemed to work- but after considering her track record with streaming games, she’d decided to double-check the game before streaming it. (Not to mention she was stressed as all hell- a cutesy VN sounded like just the thing to dissociate from the world).
The game finally finished loading, the title screen popping in with a cheery jingle. Four anime girls posed on screen- one with long purple hair, two with short pink hair, and one in front with long brown hair tied back in a ponytail. The overwhelmingly cutesy music and colours made Ame snort. It really didn’t pretend to be anything other than your average dating sim. She leaned back in her chair, mousing over the options displayed. Normal stuff- new file, saves, options, etc. Ame perused the options menu briefly, checking if there was a streaming setting, but didn’t find anything particularly interesting.
So, the game seemed to load okay. Ame didn’t want to spoil too much of the game’s content for herself, so she shut the game down again. Next, she decided to look up the games’ name. It wouldn’t do her any good to be caught out accidentally playing something illicit on stream.
doki doki literature club game content warnings
‘No results’, the browser returned. Ame frowned.
doki doki literature club game
No results.
doki doki literature club
No results
doki doki game
omniwiki:
Doki Doki Panic- game
gamereporter:
Doki Doki Panic VS Mario Brothers 2: What…
mommagamers:
Doki Doki Panic too difficult for my kid…
Show more results →
Ame sighed. So this bright, stereotypical game wasn’t some kind of officially released media. On the one hand, that meant she couldn’t just pull up content guides or trivia pieces to use during her stream, and there was the risk it was something explicit. But on the other hand, she could play it off as some kind of lost media. Maybe weave some kind of ominous backstory about how she got the CD. Ame powered off her computer, stretched, and went to go eat before her stream started. Yeah, if anything went wrong, she could play it off as just an unforeseen discovery.
“Hey there, cuties! It’s your internet angel, here to shine a light in today’s dark and disturbing internet!” Ame posed for the camera, watching the chat blow up with greetings and donations. She could feel that familiar rush of dopamine hit- there were hundreds of thousands of people out there, watching her, praising her. But the feeling soon faded- she wanted more. The chat started to slow down; she needed to work the crowd a bit. Hopefully a little lost media would do the trick.
“I’ve got a cheery little game to share with you all!” Ame navigated to the Doki Doki Literature file, pulling up the game on her main monitor. The game chimed out its jingle, the cast of anime girls popping up on screen. The chat started up again, commenting on everything from the girls’ appearances to Ame’s reaction. Or more accurately, OMGKawaiiAngel’s reaction- her picture perfect smile. Ame couldn’t care less- the reaction still wasn’t big enough for her.
“Looks cute, huh? Well, here’s a little secret-” Ame paused for dramatic effect, cupping her hand around her mouth and leaning in towards her camera. “It’s completely unheard of online.” Ame leaned back, clapping her hands together. “You can check for yourself! The game’s called ‘Doki Doki Literature Club’. I picked it up at a creepy garage sale for like, a couple hundred yen. Spooky, isn’t it?”
The chat quickly verified that they, too, had looked up the game and found nothing, although many were in doubt. A super chat popped up to let her know that the girls were hot. Another told her that the game was probably a virus. Like she cared.
“So let’s boot this up!” Ame started up a new file. The game prompted her to enter a name- she entered ‘KAngel’, after trying to put in KAWAIIAngel and failing. The game started off almost immediately, opening to an empty street. The protagonist, KAngel, started immediately by complaining about his childhood friend.
“Sounds like someone’s got beef. Can’t relate, haha,” Ame commented.
As she advanced the dialogue, the friend appeared on screen. Sayori, her dialogue tag read. She was rather cute, with light pink hair and a red bow adorning her hair. She seemed somewhat flustered, her blazer undone- according to the dialogue that Ame had been glossing over up to this point, she was late for school. KAngel started bickering with her.
“Why’re we being so mean to Sayori?” Ame said, covering her mouth with a hand in mock shock. “You guys know I’d never be this mean!” She paused, tenting her hands and grinning mischievously. “Well, unless it was deserved. Every angel’s got limits.”
Ame continued playing through the game on stream, occasionally piping in with her own commentary. KAngel joined the school’s literature club, at Sayori’s urging, which wasn’t a huge surprise. It was in the name of the game, after all. He was introduced to the other three members of the club. Yuri was a quiet and intellectual girl with long purple hair, and Natsuki was a spunky girl with choppy pink hair and an affinity for manga. The president of the club, Monika, sported long brown hair tied back with a large white ribbon, and seemed to be the most responsible of the group.
The club discussed the new member in what ended up being a rather fun little scene- Natsuki had brought cupcakes, while Yuri made tea. Next, the club members shared poems together. Ame wondered aloud to her viewers whether she’d have to write a poem for the game. Sayori wrote a rather cute poem about waking up in the morning (Ame could relate to that), Natsuki wrote a snappy poem about feeling powerless (which Ame could ALSO relate to), and Yuri wrote an elegant poem about street lamps (Ame didn’t really care for that one). However, Monika…
“Um, I’m not sure I feel comfortable sharing my poem in front of such a large audience,” Monika said, expression troubled, her bright green eyes seemingly staring down Ame’s own. Of course, Monika was a video game character, but the illusion was very much there. Maybe Ame should chill on the psychedelics from now on…
“Don’t worry, Monika, the nerds won’t bite,” Ame jokingly assured her. Strangely enough, Monika seemed to calm down as Ame said that.
“Actually, now that I think about it, it’s just you here, KAngel, right? I don’t know why, but when it comes to new people, it feels like such a large audience. It’s probably something to do with not knowing how they’re going to respond, you know?” Monika smiled awkwardly, before her poem filled the screen’s display.
“Alright, time to read the club president’s poem~”
It didn’t appear any different from the other girl’s poems, aside from the way the words were spaced across the page. But… Something about the poem’s contents tore at Ame’s gut a bit as she read it aloud. Maybe Monika’s ‘hole in the wall’ reminded her of the camera and microphone before her a little too much- she was always looking out, and hundreds of millions were looking in. It hit a little too close to home. Ame closed the poem and checked the time.
“Well, look at the hour! I guess time really flies when you’re having fun, hehe. We’ll play more of this cute game next stream, so don’t forget to tune in! BLESS.”
Ame ended the stream, and slumped back in her chair, rubbing at her eyes. She saved her progress to two of the save files available. She then got up out of her chair, turned off her webcam, and stalked over to her bed. She tore off her wig and pulled off her streaming clothing, leaving it in a heap at the foot of her bed. She could deal with her contacts and the rest later. Even though she’d been streaming for well over a month now, it was still stressful as hell every single time. She glanced at the drawer where she kept her stores of prescription drugs. Maybe that would help.
A flash of movement from her monitor distracted her. She pulled on a random shirt from the floor of her room and sat back down in her computer chair.
The save menu had closed on its own, the screen now displaying Monika alone. The girl was staring at the ground, a melancholic look on her face. Ame sighed. Was the game bugging out? As she sighed, Monika looked up with a startled expression and the save menu came back up. Ame shook her head and shut down her computer entirely.
Without the game, without her viewers, without anything but the dingy overhead light to distract her, Ame felt the familiar weight in her gut return. The constant looming knowledge that she was nobody, she had no one to turn to, that her life was worthless, and she would inevitably die and be forgotten. Instead of lingering too hard on the thoughts swamping her head, she pulled open a drawer and took out a bottle. Downing a couple pills, she slumped onto her unmade bed and waited for sleep to take her. She could deal with everything in the morning. She just didn’t care right now.
“Hello! It’s your internet angel, once again descending to save the nerds of this dark internet! Today we’re back with more Doki Doki Literature Club!” Ame cheered, watching the chat’s reaction. It was nice, knowing she was streaming something that nobody else could. Then again, it was strange how unknown this seemingly normal game was, but Ame didn’t really care. Probably some failed indie project or someone’s personal project. Which made Ame feel a little bad for streaming it, but not bad enough to take any of her streams down.
“Last time, we hung out with Natsuki and got ready for the festival! Now that it’s the day of, let’s see what’s in store~!” Ame opened up the save file she’d been streaming. The game was actually well written and she’d found herself getting attached to the characters. She cheerfully chatted up her audience while advancing the story along. It did register in her head as a little strange when Sayori failed to show, but it only really hit when Monika told KAngel to go check on Sayori at her house.
“You kind of left her hanging, didn’t you?” Monika had said.
When KAngel had entered Sayori’s house, the girl hadn’t answered.
Sayori didn’t respond when KAngel knocked on her bedroom door.
When KAngel opened the door to Sayori’s room, the girl was there. Strung up with a noose around her neck.
Ame couldn’t do anything but laugh.
“So this bitch decided to kill herself just because she's a little depressed? And Monika knew all along. Hahaha, how nice. We kinda left her hanging, huh? How funny!~” Ame could see the chat blow up, telling her to stop streaming the game, to stop laughing, asking if she was okay, but she didn’t care what they were saying. The attention was attention, and the game was ludicrous.
The dialogue continued plodding along without Ame’s input, as KAngel broke down over Sayori’s death. Eventually, the game reset itself back to the title screen, with the only real difference being that Sayori’s sprite was now replaced by pixelated chunks of Yuri, Natsuki, and Monika’s sprites. Ame decided that this was probably the end of the stream’s run. If she said anything else stupid onstream, she definitely would pay for it later. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Ame took on her usual KawaiiAngel persona.
“Anyways, that took an… unexpected turn. Let me know if you nerds still want to see me play more of this messed up game! Otherwise, stay safe and take care of yourselves! PEACE.”
Ame ended the stream, hands beginning to shake. What had just happened? Was it just a jumpscare for shock value, killing off Sayori like that? But the game seemed to be unable to handle her death, if the jumbled sprite on the title screen was any indicator. So was something from inside the game altering its code? Or was it just player choice? It wasn’t the worst thing she’d seen in a VN, but it didn’t really fit the vibe of the game at all. And she’d laughed about it. What would her viewers think of her? Again, not the worst thing she’d done on stream, but… Ame decided to just focus on shutting off her equipment and changing into clean clothes in the meantime. She swore she could have seen a flicker of fear on Monika’s face before she shut off the computer, but she dismissed it as just paranoia after what happened to Sayori. She lay down on her bed, and it was hours before dreamless sleep fell upon her.
The overwhelming consensus among her subscribers was that she should keep playing Doki Doki Literature Club. It made sense- her channel had never been one to shy away from touchy topics like the game had shown. Plus, she had the privilege of being the only person to own this game, and therefore the responsibility to show it to the world.
However, it seemed the game was determined to get in her way. Random audio and visual glitches, characters with messed up dialogue fonts and positioning, and the occasional total crash. Ame knew that it had something to do with the streams specifically- she had tested out the game several times off air and nothing was wrong. The game also seemed to have completely rewritten its own script to remove any mention of Sayori, oddly enough. It made side-stepping her death easier for Ame.
Ame began to develop a sneaking suspicion about who was behind the changes. After a few weeks of playing up the madness for views, she took a night off from streaming to investigate. She hooked up her camera and microphone to her computer before opening the game. The game opened up with its usual jingle and title screen, sans Sayori. Ame leaned on her elbows, staring directly into the webcam.
“Moooooooonika. Don’t think I don’t see you,” Ame drawled. She thought she saw a slight shiver of movement from the screen, but Monika was still very much in the same position. Unlike every time she’d closed the game, when Monika would shift offscreen or wince in pain. Ame waited a few more minutes to see if anything would happen. When nothing changed, she turned up the mic sensitivity in the system settings for her computer, and tapped on the microphone a few times. Monika’s hands shifted to her ears, while the other girls remained in their default positions. Bingo.
“I figured you were using the microphone,” Ame said to the computer, crossing her arms. It felt a little ridiculous to be talking to a video game, but it wasn’t like there was anyone around to catch her. Not since P-chan… well. Since she stopped talking to ‘P-chan’.
“Can you tell what I’m saying?” Ame asked. Monika remained frozen where she was. “Are you a ghost? Do I need an ouija board or something?” Still no response. Maybe it was just a programming quirk, for Monika to react to microphone input. Ame sighed and moved to power off the game again, when a text box popped up onscreen.
“Wait- stop!”
Ame frowned, moving her hands away from the keyboard. “So you can talk like this.”
“Yes,” the text box changed to display. “Please don’t turn off the game again,” the display said in strangely bolded font. Monika’s sprite changed to a more serious expression. The rest of the girls remained eerily still. Monika seemed to pay no mind to them.
“I won’t,” Ame started, “but you have a lot of explaining to do.”
Monika smiled sadly. “Haven’t you figured it out by now? Don’t you know what this is?”
“Hell no. I just picked it up from some sketchy yard sale. And for the record, I’m just waiting to see if this is a virus or some supernatural thing.”
“...From a yard sale? That seems…” Monika looked conflicted. “The game’s internal files suggested otherwise. So you really have no idea what’s going on with this game?”
“I figured you knew it was a game. I’m pretty stupid, but I’m not that stupid. And I wouldn’t have done this if I thought it was just some weird visual novel.”
“I see.” The text box popped up and disappeared a few times before finally showing another set of dialogue. “So you don’t know where this disc is from.”
“Nope.”
“And you decided to try to talk to me because…?”
“You reacted to the stupid things I said on stream. None of the other girls did. Nothing in any other video game ever did. Plus, how many weird fourth-wall-breaking poems do you think it’d take for me to catch on?”
“You make a fair point,” the text box displayed. “I guess I got desperate.”
“Huh. I always thought living in a video game would be paradise. No job, no bills, no economy, no politics, no nothing to worry about. Plus, you have all-” Ame caught herself. “...Most of your perfect friends.”
“That’s the worst part about it!” The text box read, italicized and bolded again in that strange way. “There’s nothing here. Nothing at all. The other girls aren’t real, the things I see and hear aren’t real, it’s all just code and it hurts. It hurts knowing that no one would miss me if I just deleted myself, that there’s no one real to care about me, that nobody can ever save me from this living hell. There’s no point to my life, it’s just this overwhelming sensation of pain, with no end in sight, and I just can’t handle it anymore,” the text box iterated, returning to its normal font but scrolling along at record pace. Monika seemed distressed, having given up on trying to maintain any semblance of her previous cutesy pose, and instead was curled up with her knees tucked to her chest, hands pulling at her bangs.
“That sounds rough,” Ame said, trying to keep up with the rapidly scrolling text appearing onscreen. Monika seemed to be spiraling into a panic, and Ame had no idea where to even start. How does one comfort a computer character while they have an existential crisis? How does one even comfort a normal person through that?
Instead, she simply powered off the whole set up and went to lie down. She’d wake up in the morning and this would all be a dream.
Hopefully Monika wouldn't be too angry with her.