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Stanley was being difficult.
Of course, this was nothing new to the Narrator, but it still drove him right up the wall on occasion. In this particular instance, Stanley had decided to try his damndest to clip through the walls. He’d managed it, for half a second, when he tripped on his way to the mind control facility and knocked into the doorframe. He’d received a headache, a bruise, and the sight of the bright void that existed outside of the map for his trouble.
[There’s another building here?] He had signed to the Narrator once he got his bearings back when the game righted his position near immediately after he'd been clipped into the wall.
“What? Of course not, Stanley. It was just another chunk of the map.”
[Which part?]
“It was.. Erm… The Zen room, I believe.”
[How would I see the Zending from here?]
“Stanley, you can hardly comprehend what’s inside of the map, let alone what exists beyond it. Let’s move on.”
Stanley had not moved on.
“Stanley.” The Narrator’s voice grew stern as he spoke to his unruly protagonist,”I think we’ve had enough of this area, hm?”
He received no acknowledgement from the man.
“Stanley!”
Finally, the employee jolted a bit and glanced up, frowning.
“Move. On.”
Stanley shook his head.
“Oh for- Fine. You know what? Fine, then, if you’d like to be out there so badly, here, Stanley.”
THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE LOADING…
Stanley would find himself, upon being reset, in the white void he had been so determined to reach. The Narrator offered a huff of displeasure.
“There. Happy? Go on, Stanley, do enlighten me as to how this is more entertaining than my story.”
Stanley did not appear to be listening as he began to walk forward, towards the building he had seen. It became clear what Stanley had seen, now, and the Narrator tried to divert his attention.
“Stanley, come on, dear boy, we should return inside. There’s nothing out here, you’ve seen all of this, I can assure you.”
[Not from this angle.] Stanley signed.
“This was supposed to discourage you from this useless wandering. Not enable it.”
[I want to see.]
“Yes, well, too bad.”
THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE LOADING…
[Why?]
“Why? Why, what, Stanley? I’m not going to sit and twiddle my thumbs while you poke around the emptiness of the Parable.”
[That’s not the Zen room. It looked like a bunch of doors to nowhere.]
The Narrator hadn’t realized Stanley was close enough to see that much. It was true- a little platform nowhere in particular, with a multitude of golden doors for the Narrator’s access into the world of the parable.
Now that Stanley had seen it, he wished desperately for the man to forget it.
“Whatever it is, you’ve seen it already from the inside, Stanley. Get moving, come along.”
Stanley frowned, but he did get up and get moving. Ah, back to the story, finally.
“See, isn’t this nice? You know exactly where you’re going and what will come next, Stanley, it’s just perfect. All you need to do is decide which ending you’d like to do.” The Narrator sighed, almost dreamily.
When they came back to that doorway, however, Stanley went right back to trying to shove his way into the doorframe again.
“Oh, for the love of- Stanley! Enough of this, already!”
Stanley leaned against the wall to sign at him [Then tell me what’s over there.]
“No! I will not negotiate with terrorists, Stanley, and you are acting like a right spoiled little- hey! Are you even listening?”
Stanley shook his head as he stepped back from the wall. He braced himself, and slammed against it so hard that his arm did glitch, and clip through. He gasped silently, and the Narrator saw his face twist in pain as yellow pixels wracked over him.
“Dammit, Stanley!”
THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE LOADING…
Stanley gasped for breath in the quiet of his office once he was reset. Oh, hell, that hurt something awful. It was like being electrocuted, like his entire form was stuck in that aggressive, static sort of pain from smacking your elbow against the wall too hard. He shivered at the memory, rubbing his hand over the previously afflicted arm.
“Are you quite finished now, Stanley? Now that you’ve gone and hurt yourself?” The Narrator asked testily.
[Why are you keeping it so secret?]
“I’m not keeping it a secret! It’s just the empty space on the map, Stanley!”
[I know what I saw.]
“Are you going to believe what you saw or what I, your Narrator, am telling you?”
Stanley crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, arching a brow up towards the ceiling tiles
“...Alright. Fair enough, that wasn’t… exactly my best point.” The Narrator sighed,”Fine, Stanley… Are you really so keen to know what those doors are?”
Stanley, encouraged once he admitted they were in fact doors, nodded and sat up a bit.
“Well.. Those are for me. For when I need to make some manual changes to the parable. Now, it’s not often, I don’t really need to wander about this place, quite a lot of it is accessible right from my panel here, but… on occasion, when the game is in need of repairs, I will use those doors to get where I need to go.”
[...Why do you need doors?]
“Stanley did you not just hear me? I just explained what their purpose is, my god it’s like talking to a brick wall with you sometimes…”
[Right. But why do you need doors? You… have a body?]
“Well, of course. I need a model to access the...Can you- can you see what, Stanley, what are you asking? See my model?” The Narrator tiled his head when Stanley signed in the middle of him speaking.
[I didn’t know you had a body. Can I see? Please?]
“Whatever for? I only use it when the parable has been paused.” Too many sensations and feelings into those damn things… He did use it on occasion, when he was not doing repairs, but that was only because he’d spent quite some time working on it.
[Does it look like a robot? Is it a computer? A doll?]
“No! No, none of those things!”
[So it’s just a regular body?]
“Wh- it is anything but regular, thank you!” The Narrator scoffed, and if he were in said model now, he would cross his rather well crafted arms,”You know there was a time before you were even here, Stanley. If anything your model is regular, I used it to practice when I began making mine!”
[So you were gonna be… me?]
“No. Of course not. You’re too plain… too gangly and unpleasantly average.” The Narrator’s tone held a bit of bitterness,”It just wouldn’t do to fit such astounding personality and wit into something so boring.”
There was a pause for a while, Stanley looked like he was thinking hard about something. Then, he signed;
[My model is more interesting than yours.]
“What? How could you possibly know that?!”
[I just do.]
“You have no way of knowing which model is more attra- er, more interesting, Stanley. No way at all, not to mention the fact that you’re entirely wrong.”
[Am I?]
“Yes, of course you are. You always are.”
[I still think I’m more interesting.]
The Narrator was flabbergasted. How could Stanley possibly think that he was so much better? He was a damn test file until his initial launch, The only thing of intrigue on him was all those stupid freckles. He didn’t even have the capacity for something so grand as his own form, his head would probably explode or something. Yes, yes the Narrator was quite sure he would simply burst from the grandeur of his character model, and wouldn’t that be such a wonderful lesson in assuming for his dear protagonist?
“Alright, Stanley, fine. Let’s reset and I’ll show you exactly how wrong you are. Prepare to eat your words, dear boy.”
Unbeknownst to the Narrator, Stanley smiled as he felt the chill of a reset wash over him.
THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE LOADING…
The Narrator, of course, had been in the parable before. He’d wandered most of the nooks and dark corners to find issues or test bugs, he’d walked the walls to make sure there was enough space to get through the corridors. Still, somehow, as he left the door to his study towards the Parable… it felt alien. If he weren’t so wrapped up in thinking of Stanley, what he may say or think, he’d have tried to diagnose the uneasy swirling in his stomach region or the heat on his face.
In any case, he was thinking too much of Stanley’s opinion. Why, he’d swear he hadn’t any idea. Stanley himself was as basic as basic could get! The Narrator had made the perfect shell for player characters; plain so as to let the player decide their own style, silent to give the player their own voice, curious to drive the story. Yes, everything was perfect. It was the Narrator’s creation, it was impossible to be anything else.
Then why did he feel so imperfect as he approached the door that would place him in the office?
Would Stanley like his form? He shouldn't care, not one little bit because what the hell would Stanley know about good character design… but… would he like it?
What if, in his moment of vulnerability, Stanley chose to rip the carpet from beneath him? Chose to berate every flaw, every small infraction to the man’s stubborn ideals. Stanley had never had much voice when it came to design, so why wouldn’t he use this opportunity to tear the Narrator down?
The Narrator found his feet stuck just a few steps before Stanley’s office door. How long had he been here for? He should have never come down here in the first place. Stanley had tricked him to get his way, just like he does every time, and-
The door opened. Stanley still looked a bit startled to see another person here.
The narrator froze, tension in his shoulders. He found it odd he had to look up, just a bit, at Stanley. Had he always been this tall? He’d sworn his own model was taller when he made it… maybe he'd been mistaken.
Stanley stared for a few moments, and The Narrator felt the heat wash over him again, wherever Stanley’s eyes settled. His face was not spared the embarrassed flush of gold, either.
What would he say? What would he do? Was he angry? Appalled? Too disgusted to speak? Why wasn’t he doing anything? Then..
[Wow.] He signs, stepping closer and further out of his office [You’re so pretty.]
The heat on his face only grew warmer.
“Pretty?" The Narrator echoed, unsure,"Pretty, Stanley, that’s a… hm… but I… I’ll take it that I was correct, wasn't I? My model is clearly superior, as you can… can see.”
It was a bit hard to find his voice when Stanley was just looking at him that way. He didn’t even seem to be paying attention.
“Stanley? Hello?” The Narrator prompted, crossing his arms and frowning at Stanley until his eyes finally found their way back to his face.
He smiled, that stupid charming smile the Narrator hated, and signed.
[Sorry, you… yeah, you were right. You’re perfect.]
The Narrator had been used to not feeling any temperature for a long time, and if he did happen to feel one when he was in this model, it was typically cold. The parable was paused, there was no reason for the temperature regulation to be running and taking some of the energy consumption, Stanley didn’t need it right then and the Narrator was never bothered.
However, hearing those words from Stanley, he felt like he just might melt before his eyes. He felt warmth trickle into his stomach, along with a more intense, fluttery sort of feeling. Something must be wrong, but The Narrator wasn't entirely sure what.
Stanley just smiled wider.
“Right. Well. Good that you’ve finally seen… seen reason, Stanley. I’ll just reset us and-”
Stanley’s smile fell, and he shook his head quickly.
[Stay here. Let’s do the freedom ending together.] He insisted
“Stanley, come now. I can’t… stay down here for the entire run with you. I need to Narrate!”
[You don’t have it memorized?] Stanley asked, narrowing his eyes. [Even I have it memorized.]
“Well…”
Stanley extended a hand to him, and the Narrator hesitated as he stared down at it. He shouldn’t. He should get back to the study, continue on with his story as intended, leave Stanley here to play the role he was supposed to. He didn’t need to hold Stanley’s hand through the freedom ending.
Still… what did Stanley… what was his touch like? If the Narrator had ever actually touched Stanley, it had been so long he’d forgotten. What if he, like the words he’d offered, offered such lovely warmth?
“Stanley I’m just not sure about this…” He said, with none of his usual theatrics and confidence.
Stanley’s hand stayed, waiting for him. His expression was that even sort of blank slate he usually wore. Even still, the patient, brown eyes bore into The Narrator as the seconds ticked by, the small upward quirk of his lip at the corners worsening the golden flush on his face. Dammit, damn it to hell, he'd sworn Stanley was much uglier when he was created. Had he really given him such soft-looking hair, and such kind eyes? The Narrator could only look away, wringing his hands together as he fret quietly about the repercussions of his next move.
He drew a slow breath he didn’t need, and finally accepted the employee’s hand.
He was warm. Unlike the Narrator’s slightly uncertain touch, Stanley was direct and steady. He smiled, and the Narrator would swear he was actually melting through the floor this time. Stanley turned him around to the rest of the parable, and guided the Narrator’s hand to settle on his arm, patting his hand encouragingly, before tucking that hand into his pocket. The Narrator could feel Stanley’s eyes watching him, expectant.
He cleared his throat, refusing to meet his gaze,”Ah, right… okay.” Another soft breath to steel his nerves against all the new and strange sensations, and he began the story, “All of his coworkers were gone, what could it mean?”
Stanley smiled again, and he walked forward. Arm in arm with the Narrator, further into the parable to chase the freedom ending he’d promised, The Narrator kept his stride with the employee and recited the familiar lines.
For once, as the doors opened wide to the same scenery and beautiful open air, both Stanley and The Narrator were Happy.
THE END IS NEVER THE END IS NEVER THE LOADING…