Archive of Our Own

Saturday, 26th July, 2025

“C’mon say it with me chat; 00EEFFFFFF!”

Buttons pressed, scenes transitioned, ending music started; Nix sank back in his chair with a smile, taking comfort in the familiar routine. The past few hours had been spent in one of his favourite ways; gaming, chatting, and laughing with his Roombies, and as usual the end of stream chat – a flood of blue hearts, “thank you”s, and “00EEFF”s – filled the screen, giving him deep joy. Well – they had filled the screen… a flicker, a stutter, and the chat window was rendered suddenly empty.

‘Internet issues again; for fucks sake’; at least it had waited until the end of stream. A glance at the other monitor showed that the stream itself was still live; the stylised “Shutting Down” text flickered, accompanied by slow thrum of the ending music, and the pixelated aeroplane was completing its journey across the bottom of the screen; however, its cargo of Volterriers failed to drop. ‘Weird’, he thought, and also annoying that he couldn’t confirm with chat whether they could still hear him, but no huge deal.

“Sorry everyone! I don’t know if you’re still here but my internet is playing up; the Battle Royale didn’t work so here’s a forehead kissy for everyone! **Mwahhhh!** ”

Woah, he hadn’t realised how late it had got – it was just past 1am - shit, he had an early solo stream AND a collab planned for tomorrow…time to hurry and get ready for bed.

Cosy, bundled in blankets, he struggled not to succumb to the creeping heaviness behind his eyelids. He’d sleep soon, very soon – but his night wouldn’t be complete without yet another familiar ritual…checking up on everyone on Twitter. As soon as he’d ended stream, just over an hour ago, he’d posted an apology for the connection issues at the end, he’d also thanked everyone for joining the earlier stream.

*Tap*. ’Notifications’. 2 likes…an obvious Crypto Bot and a not-entirely-real looking lady named @J0annA_LegS. Very weird…where was the usual flurry of interaction from his Roombies?

*Tap*, ‘Following’ – endless buffering. Hm.

Fine then, if this stupid app wasn’t going to work properly, at least he had his trusty Lists.

*Tap* ‘Lists’. He furrowed his brow…the Lists themselves appeared, named exactly how he remembered them, but the contents and users were blank. What kind of multi-platform issue was this? Maybe it was something with his ISP? Well, no choice but to venture into the last resort of this broken bloody app;

*Tap*. ‘For You’.

*Scroll*. A post advertising some sort of large medical scanner. *Scroll*. A post from an account named @NEUR0EXPO highlighting an upcoming panel with one of those typically wanky Expo names; “Biotech on the Battlefield; Are YOU maximising Your K:D Ratio Potential?”…

*Scroll*. More and more posts of a similar flavour. What the hecky had happened to his algorithm? Where were the posts from his friends, colleagues, fellow streamers…even random WoW posts? He shook his head; it was a shame really, how much the ill-advised ownership change was speedrunning this platforms' decline.

*Scroll*.

*Scr-pause*.

A post stood out amongst the strange, mechanical, medical flurry that seemed to have taken over his Timeline:

He felt a sudden, dull ache at the base of his neck. Dammit, he’d forgotten to wear his glasses while streaming tonight; must make sure to remember them tomorrow, these headaches were no joke. Anyway…he had no idea why this particular post had caught his eye, but – well, who amongst us is a stranger to heeding the call of a 2am Twitter Rabbit Hole…?

*Tap*. An image with a few short paragraphs, and a link to what he presumed was the full Case Study. The image read:

^{[ {1} Authors note - optional - click here to view replies to this post]}

He frowned. This jargon-filled technobabble was not what he was fighting sleep for; he just wanted to catch up with his friends and community before hitting the hay. Besides, the ache was spreading now, both down his spine and up around the base of his skull; a cold, static sort of feeling – surely, the blue glare from his screen was not helping. So then…why did he feel so compelled to keep looking?

*Scroll*, “See More”. A post from a private account, @D4X3L_10. Who? The name seemed vaguely familiar, although he didn't recognise the picture, it was grainy and difficult to see, especially in the darkness of his bedroom.

The post was all caps, made just under an hour ago;

Hmm. This wasn’t unusual content for a private account post, but something about it urged him to want to know more, even with one hand now clasped to the back of his neck to try to offset the rising pain;

*Tap*, *Scroll*

*Scroll*

The cold, creeping feeling was inching down his spine now. What the fuck was this, who the fuck was this? Some kind of sick trolling attempt? If so, then what could they possibly gain from spam tweeting process-ending commands relating to him, his friends, his Roombies?

*Scroll*

Unease rose from his stomach, snaking round to join the cold trickle in a hideous dance. Why couldn’t he look away?

*Scroll*

The air felt suddenly heavy, and it caught in a choking gasp in his throat. He sat bolt upright, overcome by a sudden urge to get out of this room. Fresh air. He just needed some fresh air, a drink of water. And maybe a reassuring cuddle from Chip.

He sat up, fumbled his slippers on to his feet, every movement feeling like swimming through tar. The room swirled as he approached his bedroom door; closing his eyes gave some relief, arms out, he felt his way towards the handle, pulled it open..

Bright white light - strong enough to make him flinch even through closed lids - flooded the space where darkness should be. He opened his eyes, tentatively, slowly. Where the fuck was he? Instead of his dark, carpeted landing, he found himself standing at the top of a harshly lit, concrete stairwell. He was still gripping his phone, still opened to that alarming profile; a flicker of movement across its screen caught his eye:

A notification, the timestamp from just two minutes ago:

Another flash of movement on the screen:

He felt incredibly dizzy and incredibly sick. Why did this all seem so fucking familiar? His phone screen flashed black now, some sort of unrecognised app had opened, lines of code flashing across its interface, he had to squint in the harsh white light to even see that much.

He grabbed on to the banister of the strange bright stairwell and began descending. Slow, careful movements, one foot in front of the other. ‘Chip’, he thought. ‘It will all be OK as long as I can get to him; this is a weird, horrible nightmare, I’ll just hold on to Chip, and it will be alright. He always made sure I was safe’

More apps had opened on his phone now, all of which seemed to be competing for dominance. He peered at the screen as he pulled himself down the stairs; rows upon rows of text zoomed by, scrambled, nonsensical, but some words and phrases jumped out:

“UNIT N-IX TR4IT0R CAPTURE SHUTD0WN RAVANIS PROJECT REPURPOSE ASSET UNIT N-IX TERMINATE REMAINING RAVANIS ASSETS”

He’d reached the mid-landing now;

“SOCIALMODULE UTILISE UNIT N-IX AFFINITY COMMUNITY HARVEST ENERGY VIRTUAL INTERACTIONS SOCIAL CONTROL”

Terminate Ravanis…Imaginary Interactions…none of it made any sense, it all just made the throbbing in his head swell;

“GENERATE FAKE PROFILES SIMULATE FAKE COMMUNITY MONITOR REACTIONS SIMULATE AGENGY SIMULATE FRIENDSHIPS SIMULATE AUDIENCE”

He felt the bitter taste of bile rising rapidly in his throat;

“UNIT N-IX ESCAPE RISK ENSURE STRONG ILLUSIONS ENHANCE COMMUNITY INTENSIFY INTERACTIONS ENCOURAGE CONNECTION IMPORTANT!! DO NOT LET FIND OUT IT IS ALL FAKE”

He stumbled on a step, causing his thumb to brush the screen. The frantic scrolling of the text paused, then restarted; this time caught in a loop, one repeating part:

“..FIND OUT IT IS ALL FAKE IT IS ALL FAKE ITISALLFAKE”

He’d finally reached the ground floor. He pushed against the large, strange metal door with all his strength, threw it open, stepped into…his kitchen? It was almost his kitchen…the colour and the shape and the size were All Wrong. But there was the back door - almost, kind of, roughly where the back door should be - and most importantly, there! In a small dog bed next to the door. His companion, his boy, his Chip! He half ran, half fell towards the small robotic dog, tears of pure relief spilling from his eyes, nuzzling into Chip’s hard, cold body.

Wagging tail and happy, enthusiastic barks; this is how Chip would always, had always, responded to his owner’s presence – but now; still, stony silence.

"Chip...?"

The flush of relief he’d felt began to pool and solidify in his chest. Slowly, he pulled back and looked at his canine companion;

The usually blue digital face display flashed a bright, jarring red.

In place of the usual eye graphics; lines of code began to scroll by:

C:\PR0jectN3m3sis\NIX>taskkill /F /IM NIX_SocialModule_Override R3V3l4TI0N.bat

>START Illusion_FSP_Ravanis.exe

>START Illusion_VTuber.exe

>START Illusion_Roombies.exe

Feeling himself sliding towards the cold vinyl tiles, Nix could’ve sworn he heard a soft, gentle whimper, just before his sight and vision faded to black.

Sunday, 27th July, 2025

As he blinked awake, harsh, red-lit numbers blurrily assembled themselves in front of his eyes:

10:45, declared his alarm clock.

Shit! He must’ve slept through the alarms again. He only had 15 minutes before stream – an earlier start today, due to the planned collab later – he better hurry and get ready! First though, he’ check in with the Roombies, of course – he pulled up the waiting room on his phone. “Hewwah! I just woke up! See you all soon!”. Familiar names flickered across the screen, greeting him, greeting each other, sending blue hearts, as he ran to grab a coffee.

Phew! He'd rushed to get ready, and made it just in time. A quick check of his set up - all seemed in order, great - *Go Live*. The familiar intro music began, and the chat window burst into a flurry of excitement; Roombies entering, excited emotes, members joining in with the basketball game. In the corner of his vision, he noticed a notepad file, minimised - weird, he didn't usually use notepad. He absent-mindedly clicked on it; one word, repeated tens, no maybe hundreds of times consecutively:

ILLUSION;ILLUSION;ILLUSION;ILLUSION;ILLUSION;.

Odd. Must've accidentally opened up a readme file when installing today's game, or something. He closed the file, just in time to notice a particularly impressive shot from Team Pink in the Basketball game. He shifted into a comfortable position in his chair, a contented sigh, a deep grin; this, all of this, made him so very happy. Well, it was time to start stream;

"RRRRROOOOMBIIIIESSSSSS"