Chapter Text
It took Alan a few hours before he finally managed to convince himself to turn his computer back on. During that time, he sat alone with his thoughts, replaying the events over and over in his head while trying to make sense of what had happened. Victim had practically challenged him to a fight, and Alan had lost. Not that the outcome had ever been in doubt. There was only so much he could do with a mouse against a stick figure that seemed capable of taking over his entire system. In the end, he'd panicked and yanked the cable.
The more he thought about it, the more obvious the answer became. There was no doubt in his mind that it had been Victim. He should have realized it the moment he saw that word appear when he right-clicked on his screen.
At the time, he hadn't seen anything suspicious, but now he understood why. Victim had somehow used his own colour to blend into the background, hiding in plain sight while Alan walked straight into the trap. Looking back, the signs had been there from the beginning. The message that "Yellow" had sent him was identical to the one Yellow had sent five years ago. It had felt strange then, but Alan had ignored it since Yellow looks so urgent. Now he knew why. It hadn't been Yellow at all. Someone else had been impersonating him.
That realization only brought more questions. If it wasn't Yellow, then where was he? What about the others? Were they safe? Victim had to be connected to whatever was happening, and Alan couldn't shake the feeling that this was all somehow his fault. Not to mentioned that massage he had send him:
[i’m coming home.]
[did you miss me?]
He did not.
In fact, he had completely forgotten about him.
Now that he knows that these sticks can feel something, no doubt after everything he had done to Victim years ago, after all the torture and suffering he had put the stick figure through, it would make senses if this was revenge. Maybe Victim had finally come back to settle the score. He had in mind to let it happened when he remembers who the attacker was, maybe it was guilt or his thought to repent somehow, but then he just had to pull all of his files and data and deleting them all. Alan let out a long sigh and rubbed his face. He had never expected something he considered no more than a game when he was a teenager to return years later and turn his life upside down. Yet here he was, dealing with the consequences of choices he barely thought twice about back then. Talk about karma.
And one hell of a karma.
Eventually, he plugged the computer back in. This time, however, he was ready. He kept his hand close to the mouse and keyboard, eyes watched the screen carefully as the system booted up, expecting another attack at any moment. The desktop loaded without incident. The cursor appeared. Everything seemed… calm. A calm before the storm then.
Alan waited. Then waited some more. Nothing happened. No sudden messages. No stick figures. No signs of Victim whatsoever. Frowning, he cautiously moved the mouse across the screen, half-expecting something to jump out at him. Still nothing. The silence was somehow more unsettling than the attack itself.
Either way, since there isn’t a stick figure that was actively trying to kill him anymore, Alan decided to investigate, somehow. Victim had reverted the entire system to resemble his old laptop. Everything looked wrong. The desktop layout, the icons, the settings—even the operating system had been changed to an older version of Windows. If the hardware itself hadn't been brand new, Alan would have believed he was sitting in front of the same laptop he had used years ago.
At first, he tried to fix it. He spent the next several minutes digging through settings, changing configurations, and trying to restore everything back to normal. When that didn't work, he tried refreshing the system. Then he restarted his computer. Then he restarted it again. And again. Nothing worked. No matter what he did, the changes remained. Every setting he restored somehow reverted back. Every adjustment he made accomplished absolutely nothing. After a while, frustration began to outweigh determination. Eventually, he gave up.
He then began searching for another thing. First, he tried to locate the portal that had connected itself to his Wi-Fi network, but there was no trace of it. Then he searched through system logs and activity histories, hoping to find the coordinates that victim had supposedly came from. Once again, he found nothing. Every lead seemed to disappear the moment he got close to it.
After hours of searching with no results, Alan finally admitted that he was out of his depth. Whatever was happening, it was far beyond anything he understood.
With few options left, Alan grabbed his laptop and placed it beside the computer. Whatever was happening was clearly beyond him, and he needed someone who knew more about this sort of thing than he did. Opening a chat window, he scrolled through his contact list until he found the person he was looking for.
Programmer021.
It had been a while since they last talked, but if there was anyone who might know something about sentient stick figures, portals, and impossible computer phenomena, it would be them, probably. They had always been far more knowledgeable about this technical side of things than Alan ever was. Taking a deep breath, Alan clicked on their username and began typing. Hopefully, they could help him find Second and the others.
And hopefully, they could explain what the hell was happening before things got even worse.
It took far longer than Alan would have liked to explain. Trying to summarize years of increasingly absurd events into a chat window was difficult enough. Actually, convincing someone that those events had happened was another matter entirely.
Still, programmer021 listened.
Alan walked him through everything—from the red spider virus that had first appeared on his computer five years ago, and how the Chosen One, the stick figure that had broken his computer years ago in 2011, was somehow the one who took down the spider virus. No doubt, he had helped save his computer. Then he explained how the Color Gang decided to follow him through the portal connected to the Wi-Fi before he could stop them.
He also told him how he was just cleaning up the mess after the fight when Yellow messaged him using a computer pop-up resulting to how he ends up helped the Chosen One defeat the Dark Lord, which he assumed to be the one that had sent him that spider virus, not to mention the Dark Lord had literally used red spiders to help him fight them. Then his cursor was destroyed by one of the red spiders, and he was logged out of the system. When he came back, everything was already done. The Dark Lord was dead, probably. Then he and the rest of them returned, leaving the Chosen One behind.
Then, less than twenty-four hours ago, the Chosen One suddenly appeared again through the portal and dragged the Second Coming with him. The rest of the Color Gang followed them soon after. He didn't hear anything after that, even as hours passed. He had been contemplating going through the portal himself, but before he could, his computer suddenly glitched. Then Yellow messaged him the same way he had five years ago. But it turned out it wasn't Yellow at all. It was the first stick figure he had ever created, who used his cursor to edit his name into H4CK3R, invaded his computer, reverted it back to how his old laptop used to be, and nearly deleted all of his files. Luckily, he had backups for everything, but still.
A notification then appeared.
programmer021: Bro.
A second message followed almost immediately.
programmer021: Wtf?
Alan let out a tired laugh. Yeah, tell me about it. Seeing the whole story laid out like that made it sound even more ridiculous than usual. If someone else had told him the same thing, he probably wouldn't have believed it.
More typing dots appeared.
programmer021: Why do you kept getting these troubles with those guys?
noogai3: been asking myself the same question
programmer021: You're seriously have some crazy luck with them.
noogai3: yeah ik
noogai3: thats why im chatting y
There was a brief pause before the reply came.
programmer021: Oh.
programmer021: What do you need?
Alan straightened slightly in his chair. This was the reason he'd reached out in the first place.
noogai3: know anything about where they could possibly go?
noogai3: or where they could be?
noogai3: ive been trying to find the place where yellow had send me to
noogai3: but since all my data was erased i couldnt find anything
After sending the messages, Alan stared at the screen, waiting. He waited. One minute turned into two. Then three. By the fourth minute, he found himself checking the chat window every few seconds, watching for the typing indicator that never appeared. Had programmer021 gone afk? Lost connection? Decided this whole thing was too insane to deal with? Another minute passed. Alan drummed his fingers against the desk before finally giving in.
noogai3: y there
noogai3: ?
noogai3: is something wrong??
The answer came almost instantly.
programmer021: Sorry.
programmer021: Nothing's wrong.
Programmer021: Just processing.
programmer021: I do know a few place where that could be.
Alan straightened in his chair.
noogai3: realy
noogai3: where??
The typing indicator appeared before disappeared then it appeared again. When the message finally arrived, it wasn't the answer he had been expecting.
programmer021: Before I answer you,
programmer021: Can I ask you something?
Alan blinked.
noogai3: sure?
programmer021: Why do you want to know where they are?
Alan frowned slightly at the screen. He guesses that wasn't an unreasonable question, but it still caught him off guard. Why did he want to find them? His fingers hovered over the keyboard as he tried to figure out how to explain that without sounding completely insane.
noogai3: why not
noogai3: im worried
noogai3: they've been gone for a whole day by now
noogai3: and then victim came
noogai3: using the same way yellow massage me
noogai3: something must be going on right
noogai3: they could be in danger
programmer021: Huh.
noogai3: what
programmer021: Didn't think you would worry so much for a stick figures.
noogai3: yeah well its hard not too
noogai3: they been companying me a these past 9 years
noogai3: second even help me animated together
noogai3: so yeah
noogai3: of course im worried
A few seconds passed.
programmer021: Because then you have no one to help you animated.
Alan's frown deepened. His fingers tapped lightly against the edge of the laptop as he stared at the message. Well, that wasn't entirely wrong. Back when the stick figures had first started helping him animate, he'd definitely appreciated the extra hands. Anyone would. The fact that they could do in minutes what would've taken him hours wasn't exactly something he complained about. But that wasn't why he was worried. Not anymore. Nine years was a long time. Long enough to get used to finding them sleeping in random folders. Long enough to expect chaos whenever they got bored. Long enough to unconsciously glance toward the corner of his screen whenever something funny happened. Somewhere along the way, they had stopped being just animated stick figures. They had become friends.
Admittedly, friends who regularly acted like unsupervised children that. Alan rubbed the back of his neck before returning his hands to the keyboard.
noogai3: well that too
noogai3: but i still be worry even not
noogai3: i just want to know if they're safe
programmer021: Well, this is unexpected.
noogai3: what
programmer021: I certainly did not expect you to care so much about those stick figures.
programmer021: Considering your history with them.
programmer021: I'm surprised how well you get along with those current sticks.
Alan paused, his fingers hovered above the keyboard as he reread the messages. Something about that wording bothered him. At first glance, it wasn't a strange thing to say. His history with living stick figures wasn't exactly pleasant. Victim had escaped his laptop, which he could understand why. The Chosen One and The Dark Lord had caused even more damage. Looking back, there were plenty of reasons why someone might assume he'd want nothing to do with sentient stick figures. So why did that comment feel so... off?
Maybe it was the way programmer021 had phrased it. As if they were somehow separate from the others. As if there was a distinction Alan wasn't aware of. The thought lingered in the back of his mind for a moment before he shook his head. He was probably overthinking it. After everything that had happened over the last twenty-four hours, that wouldn't exactly be surprising conclusion. Alan focused on the chat window again and started typing.
noogai3: like i say
noogai3: hard not to
noogai3: so?
programmer021: Okay.
programmer021: The place you mentioned is most likely the Outernet.
Alan blinked. Outernet?
noogai3: outernet?
noogai3: what that
programmer021: Hm, it's quite difficult to explain.
programmer021: But, basically it's a place where stick figures lives.
noogai3: ohh
Alan reread the message, then reread it again. His brain seemed to snag on one particular sentence: It's a place where stick figures live.
noogai3: what
noogai3: how's that even work??
He leaned back slightly in his chair. For years, he'd operated under the assumption that his stick figures were unique. Strange, impossible, and capable of causing an unreasonable amount of trouble, sure—but still unique. Then programmer021 was casually telling him there was apparently a place populated by stick figures. As if that was a completely normal thing to say.
Alan stared at the screen. A place where stick figures lived. Not came from. Lived. As if they're like people. Like there were cities. Homes. The thought was so bizarre that he wasn't even sure which part of it he was supposed to question first. Had there always been more of them? How many? And perhaps most importantly—How did programmer know any of this?
programmer021: That's the difficult part.
noogai3: just the best y can
noogai3: if possibel like im 5
programmer021: Funny.
programmer021: But, it's seriously quite complex.
programmer021: Even I doesn't know how exactly it works.
programmer021: Its no different on how a stick figures can be sentient.
programmer021: In a way, at least.
programmer021: Since there's no currently logical explanations for that.
Alan frowned. That wasn't the answer he'd expected.
noogai3: thought you know about that
noogai3: youre the one who taught me about them
For years, whenever Alan had questions about living stick figures, programmer021 had always seemed to have answers. Not every answer, but enough. Enough that Alan had gradually started treating them as the closest thing to an expert on the subject.
The reply came a few moments later.
programmer021: I know many things, but not everything.
programmer021: Still, I'm flattered that you think so highly of me.
Alan huffed a quiet laugh, he rolled his eyes. Interesting as all of this was, it wasn't exactly helping him figure out where his stick figures were. Or whether they were okay.
noogai3: right
noogai3: this getting off topics
noogai3: can you continue already
The response came almost immediately.
programmer021: Geez, why so hurry.
Alan snorted. Easy for them to say. They weren't the one who'd spent the last hour wondering whether their friends were lost somewhere in a dimension populated entirely by sentient stick figures.
programmer021: Anyways,
programmer021: You know about Newgrounds, yes?
Alan blinked. That was not where he'd expected this conversation to go.
noogai3: like the website?
programmer021: Yeah.
noogai3: course ik
programmer021: Ever upload there?
Alan frowned, not immediately seeing the connection. He wasn't sure what that had to do with anything they were talking about, and for a moment he simply stared at the message, trying to figure out where programmer021 was going with this.
noogai3: no
A few seconds later, another message appeared.
programmer021: Good for you then.
Alan stared at the screen. "...What?" He read the message again. Alan was about to ask what they meant by that, but programmer021 continued before he could type anything.
programmer021: Basically, when you upload your animation there, that data automatically will be send to the Outernet.
programmer021: Using the Newgrounds as the storage of the animations data.
programmer021: As long as the storage is there on the Newgrounds then the animations in the Outernet wouldn't have any problem existing.
Alan stared at the screen, blinking once before rereading the messages to make sure he hadn't misunderstood what he was seeing.
noogai3: hold on
noogai3: youre telling me every animation uploaded there becomes real??
programmer021: I wouldn't say they become real.
programmer021: To us anyways.
programmer021: They're still codes in the end.
programmer021: What I meant is,
programmer021: When an animation was uploaded to Newgrounds, it'll gain consciousness and will live in the Outernet.
programmer021: Since most animations will goes to Outernet.
programmer021: Quite similar case like your stick figures.
programmer021: Just like how they start living in your computer, the one on the Newgrounds is living in the Outernet.
Alan slowly rubbed a hand down his face.
noogai3: ohh
noogai3: yeah that make no sense
noogai3: but okay
programmer021: Did any of that actually get through to you?
noogai3: you lost me at gain consciousness
programmer021: Why do I even bother.
Alan grinned despite himself. At least that part made sense—not the explanation, but the exasperation. That, he understood perfectly. Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing something. programmer021 hadn't brought up Newgrounds for no reason, right? There had to be a point to all of this.
noogai3: anyway
noogai3: why do i get a feeling theres a problem here?
A pause. Then the typing indicator appeared.
programmer021: Was, is more correct.
Alan's smile faded, that didn't sound good.
programmer021: Remember in 2011 when a lot of websites were getting wrecked?
noogai3: yeah
Alan wasn't exactly an expert on internet history, but he remembered hearing about websites getting hacked, databases being compromised, and companies scrambling to recover lost data.
programmer021: Along with the others, Newgrounds got hit too.
programmer021: Pretty sure the site is still up, but most of the files were lost.
programmer021: Only some remained.
Alan's eyes narrowed as he thought it over. The pieces still weren't fitting together, but he could tell they were leading him somewhere.
noogai3: kay
noogai3: what that have to do with this?
Alan got the distinct feeling programmer021 was sighing on the other side of the screen.
programmer021: What I'm trying to say is,
programmer021: If you wanted to enter the Outernet,
programmer021: One of the ways is through Newgrounds.
programmer021: Other than that, is the same way you got summoned by your stick figures.
programmer021: Which I doubt you could since that mean you need an inside access first.
programmer021: And which you don't have by the way.
Alan blinked, then blinked again. He was starting to realize he had done a lot of blinking today, though considering everything that had happened so far, could anyone really blame him?
noogai3: i know that
noogai3: i still don't see the way here
noogai3: like
noogai3: what d y want me to do?
noogai3: upload something to newgrounds?
programmer021: Yes.
Alan stared at the screen.
noogai3: wha
The reply came before he could finish whatever question he was about to ask.
programmer021: More precisely is that you can created an avatar to enter the Newgrounds.
noogai3: you can do that?
programmer021: Yes.
programmer021: Not many know though.
Alan leaned back in his chair. Of all the absurd things he'd learned in the last half hour, that somehow wasn't even in the top three.
noogai3: how can not many know??
noogai3: people constantly upload animation in that web
programmer021: Animation that is not their avatar.
Alan paused. Then the implication finally clicked. "Oh."
noogai3: oh
That... actually made a weird sort of sense. Not much sense. But enough. If every uploaded animation ended up in the Outernet, then uploading a normal animation would just create another resident. Uploading an avatar, on the other hand... That was less like sending a file. And more like sending yourself. The realization made Alan sit up a little straighter. For the first time since this conversation started, he felt like he was finally getting somewhere.
Assuming programmer021 wasn't completely insane. Which, admittedly, was still a possibility he hadn't ruled out.
Alan paused, processing the information. The chat remained quiet for a few seconds. Even programmer021 didn't send anything. They were probably giving him a moment to catch up. Because apparently, according to them, there was now a way to enter a parallel internet dimension populated by sentient animations. A sentence that somehow made less sense the more he thought about it. Then another thought struck him. Alan sat up.
noogai3: your saying that if its an avatar of me was upload on newgrounds i could enter the outernet???
programmer021: More or less.
noogai3: lk i be there???
noogai3: you can do that????
The reply arrived immediately.
programmer021: What
programmer021: No.
programmer021: That's impossible unless you somehow manage to transferred your consciousness to your avatar in a game world.
programmer021: Which is just not possible.
Alan snorted.
noogai3: is that sao reference?
programmer021: Yes.
programmer021: Now, shut up.
programmer021: Don't cut me off.
Alan laughed. A second later, another message appeared.
programmer021: Is not that you going to be there personally.
programmer021: It's just that you can see and control your avatar in the Outernet.
noogai3: ohh
That made significantly more sense. Not much, admittedly, but significantly more than everything else programmer021 had explained so far. Alan still wasn't sure he fully understood how any of this worked, but at least he finally had something familiar to latch onto.
An avatar. A character. A proxy of some sort. Something he could control remotely without physically being there himself. When programmer021 put it that way, the concept stopped sounding like complete nonsense and started sounding vaguely familiar. It was similar to controlling a character in a video game. The player sat behind a screen while the character moved around in a completely different world. The character acted as an extension of the player. Well... maybe not exactly the same.
Game characters usually didn't have their own thoughts, emotions, personalities and possibly a whole societies, economies, histories, and apparently entire civilizations. The more Alan thought about it, the less the comparison actually worked. Still, it was close enough. For once, he felt like he actually understood what programmer021 was trying to explain. Maybe not the details, and definitely not the technical side of it, but at least the general idea. If entering the Outernet directly wasn't possible, then using an avatar as a substitute wasn't completely unreasonable.
The rest of it, however, remained absolutely insane.
The Outernet itself was insane. The existence of sentient animations living entire lives beyond his computer screen was insane. The fact that websites apparently functioned as locations and gateways was insane. And the revelation that Newgrounds wasn't just a website but an actual access point into this bizarre digital civilization was definitely insane. There was probably a point where he should have stopped and questioned his life choices. Instead, he found himself accepting it far more easily than he should have.
Maybe because he'd already spent years dealing with living stick figures. Maybe because his computer had been invaded enough times that reality had permanently lost its ability to surprise him. Or maybe because he was running out of better explanations. Either way, the avatar part was something he could actually work with.
If using one meant he could enter the Outernet, search for Second and the other, and figure out what had happened to them, then he didn't particularly care how ridiculous the explanation sounded. At this point, ridiculous had practically become normal. His fingers immediately returned to the keyboard. Questions still filled his head, but they could wait. Right now, finding the them was more important than understanding every impossible detail behind the process, and if this avatar idea was his best lead, then he was going to follow it.
noogai3: tell me how
The typing indicator appeared almost immediately. Apparently programmer021 had been expecting that question.
programmer021: You can just upload any sort of animation to Newgrounds,
programmer021: As long as the name is your avatar,
programmer021: Then it's fine.
Alan stared at the screen. That sounded... Suspiciously easy. After everything he'd heard about the Outernet, sentient animations, and digital civilizations, he had expected some complicated process involving obscure software, impossible coding tricks, or at the very least a ritual sacrifice to the internet gods. Instead, the answer was apparently:
Upload an animation.
That couldn't possibly be the whole story.
noogai3: i got a feeling is not that simple
programmer021: Uploading it is simple.
programmer021: But I suggest to create your avatar properly.
programmer021: So that it won't become sentient.
noogai3: is that a bad thing?
programmer021: Obviously.
programmer021: It means that it won't be you entering the Outernet, it would be just another stick figure.
Ahh, right. If the avatar became sentient, then it would stop being an avatar. It would become its own person. Which meant he wouldn't be controlling anything. He'd just accidentally create another lifeform and dump it into the Outernet. Considering his track record with sentient stick figures, that was probably the last thing he needed.
noogai3: right
A pause followed as Alan leaned back in his chair, the fact that programmer021 had answered that so quickly being mildly concerning. After another moment of thought, Alan typed again.
noogai3: any advice i should consider
noogai3: before i do this?
noogai3: say
noogai3: how do i make sure it won't be sentient?
The typing indicator appeared and remained there, blinking on and off as Alan watched the screen. Nearly half a minute passed without a single message being sent, makes him to wonder what programmer021 was typing. When the messages finally started arriving, they came one after another.
programmer021: The code.
programmer021: The command.
programmer021: The name.
programmer021: Make sure everything is NOT automatic.
programmer021: Make sure you code everything,
programmer021: And I mean everything.
programmer021: Down to every details.
programmer021: Don't leave anything undefined.
programmer021: Don't leave blank behaviors for the system to interpret.
programmer021: Explicitly define everything.
programmer021: I'm sure you wanted to avoid it become sentient.
programmer021: As you know it can happened the moment something becomes a symbol,
programmer021: The system starts treating it as an individual object.
programmer021: Still, when you code it, you can try to be creative.
programmer021: Since it's the part where you put any sort of ability you want.
programmer021: The command must be clear,
programmer021: And straightforward.
programmer021: Don't try to be creative.
programmer021: You'll hurt yourself.
programmer021: Name level must be clear.
programmer021: Don't name it any other than what it supposed to be.
programmer021: Or else it'll be sentient.
programmer021: When you upload it to Newgrounds, write something.
programmer021: A message of some sort.
programmer021: Even a short one is fine.
programmer021: It helps reinforce the intended identity.
programmer021: And, yeah.
programmer021: That's pretty much it.
Alan stared at the wall of text. Then reread it. Then reread it a third time. Somehow, each pass left him with more questions than answers. Because it started to sounded less like advice and more like someone reading from a safety manual. Define everything. Don't leave anything undefined. Don't be creative with commands. Be creative with abilities. Don't name it wrong. Write a message to reinforce its identity. Avoid symbolism. Whatever that meant. It felt less like building an avatar and more like trying to prevent a genie from finding loopholes in a contract.
He rubbed his temples. The more programmer021 explained the Outernet, the more convinced he became that the place operated entirely on rules nobody fully understood. Still, complicated or not, he finally had a way in, and right now, that was all that mattered.
noogai3: thats a lot
programmer021: Duh.
programmer021: What you expect?
Alan snorted. Fair enough. Even so, part of him had honestly expected the process to be a lot simpler. After all, his own stick figures certainly hadn't required nearly that much planning, design work, or technical preparation. Then again, creating sentient stick figures had never exactly been his intention.
noogai3: like how i usually made stick figures
programmer021: In your dream, maybe.
Alan rolled his eyes. Considering how many disasters had resulted from his usual method of making stick figures, programmer021 probably had a point.
noogai3: sure
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. For the first time since his stick figures had vanished, he felt like he was actually doing something instead of sitting around worrying. He had a lead. And, hopefully, a way to reach it.
noogai3: thnks man
noogai3: iou
The reply came a few seconds later.
programmer021: No problem.
programmer021: Happy to help.
Alan leaned back in his chair and let out a slow breath. The conversation had somehow answered his questions, raised twenty more, completely shattered his understanding of how stick figure worked, and handed him what might be the worst tutorial he'd ever received. But it was enough. Now all he had to do was actually make the avatar. And somehow avoid accidentally creating another sentient stick figure in the process. Given his history, Alan wasn't particularly confident about that last part.
Alan rubbed his eyes one last time before moving the cursor toward the close button, he finally had enough information to get started. More than enough, honestly. At this point, his brain felt like it was reaching maximum capacity.
He was just about to close the chat when a new notification appeared.
programmer021: Before that.
Alan paused.
noogai3: ?
programmer021: Are you going to used your computer or laptop?
Alan glanced at the laptop sitting in front of him. Then frowned. That was a strangely specific question.
noogai3: does it need to be specific device?
programmer021: No.
programmer021: But, accessing the Outernet takes a lot of system resources.
programmer021: Mostly memory and processing power
programmer021: I don't think you can use laptop.
programmer021: You can try.
programmer021: I wouldn't recommend it.
programmer021: Unless you want it to explode.
Alan immediately looked back at his laptop. A beat passed.
noogai3: noted
The response came almost instantly.
programmer021: Alright then, good luck!
programmer021: Make sure to tell me the result, okay.
Alan smiled faintly. For all the cryptic explanations and impossible information, programmer021 genuinely seemed interested in whether this would work. Or maybe they were just curious to see if he'd accidentally create another sentient stick figure. Either possibility felt equally likely.
noogai3: okay
The chat finally fell silent. Alan sat there for a moment, staring at the screen. A few hours ago, his biggest concern had been figuring out where the Color Gang had disappeared to. Now he was apparently preparing to build a digital avatar and enter an entire civilization of sentient animations through Newgrounds. Somehow, that had become a reasonable plan. He wasn't sure what that said about him. With a shake of his head, Alan closed the chat window. There was only one thing left to do.
Get to work.