Uptopia Falls: Wildebyte Arcades, #4

Design Lesson Hidden

The Downfall Dilemma

I confidently step into a beautiful game, gawking at clouds and placing my boots on—

Nothing. No solid ground beneath my feet. Wait what?

My arms flail around, trying to latch onto something, but I’m already falling. Speeding towards a ground that’s too far to see.

Gushing water sounds from behind. I rotate mid-air and see I’m tumbling parallel to a waterfall. One that started all the way at the top, next to the tunnel through which I entered the game, and elegantly spirals all the way down. Like a watery snake hugging this … mountain?

I’m already going too fast to make out specifics. Colors flash by. Blurry images. Is that a building? Do I hear a sound effect of somebody—

I land in a raging curve of the waterfall. Grab something! Slow down! The further I fall, the longer it will take to climb back up and leave the game.

Just when my hands find a branch, the waterfall spits me out again and I continue my descent at an increased pace—now miles away from anything to grab.

For some reason, I start moving side to side. It’s certainly not something I wanted to do. After a few seconds of going to the left, I bonk my head against an invisible wall and move to the right, until I hit something again and the cycle repeats.

Calm down. Stay calm. I’m going to investigate this game, fix what’s wrong, get my Lost Memory, and get out. I can do that. If you can fall, then you can get back up. The Native Entities will be proud of me and finally—

Something zips past me, but this thing’s going up! No, not a thing, a character. The actual main character of the game? Didn’t the Memory Police say there was nobody in this game?

They gracefully leap from platform to platform, always going higher using confident jumps. They spare me a short glance, which shows a thick piece of tape covering their mouth. Their eyes immediately turn to worry as they notice my falling body. Their arms signal something, their mouth trying to speak to no avail, but they must continue playing. Within a handful of frames, they’re out of sight.

Ah, so that’s what the Memory Police meant. Nobody in this game I could talk to. And so I fall further.

I expected a deafening sound in my ears, my clothes flapping around me and hair slapping in my face, but none of that happens.

Because this game hasn’t programmed wind—and I am not wearing any clothes.

I’m a monkey wearing a cape. My kicking legs find no grip, but my tail clips an extended platform. The impact sends me spiraling, as gravity pulls me further and further down, increasing my speed.

Don’t look down. Do not look down.

Now the weightlessness feels free and fun. It always does. Nobody is afraid of falling—they’re afraid of the landing.

I can’t resist opening my eyes anyway to check what’s below.

The floor, a black dot of stone, nears quickly. Fear courses through my body. Fear and anger. I look back up: the distance to the exit feels like it will take years to overcome.

I’ll be stuck in a game for years, alone, climbing back up! And if I fall, I have to start all over again.

And all of that because of those stupid researchers that put me here with their failed MixWare! If I—no, when I come back, I’ll make sure to throw toilet rolls into their home, and unplug their internet, and make annoying noises outside their facilities. Anything for revenge! Anything—

I slam into a solid, unyielding, mean, cold floor, with such speed that I almost tunnel through it.

Oh thank the game gods, this game also hasn’t programmed pain.

Steam puffs from my sides. I check my left hip: it holds a singular cog, rotating so fast it is blurry.

Broken buttons. My entire left leg isn’t a real leg, but a robot leg. The cog is the only thing powering that machine, so it’s not strange that I can only—

Yup. After recovering from impact, the cog spins at full speed again. It powers my body and sends me from side to side.

This amazing experience gives me a tour of the entire lower floor, revealing it to be a basement with stacked boxes. Or, well, they’re stacked until I give them an unintended visit. The walls are grimy and bathed in darkness. The light from a hole in the roof is barely enough to see the wall just before I bump into it and flip to the other side.

I try jumping; nothing happens. I try rotating; nothing happens.

Hold on. I landed on a bump in the floor, which means I am floating above the ground. Apparently, I can literally only move side to side in this game. No falling down or jumping up.

How on Ludra am I going to move back to the top of the mountain if I can’t even jump?

The waterfall crashes into the ground behind me. Up there, the water was crystal clear and an invitation to swim. Down here, it has turned brown and yellow, like waste being dumped into the sewers. Up there, the water made me thirsty. Down here, I’m certain drinking it would give me a million diseases.

And just like a real sewer, you never know what creatures you might find in that desolate darkness.

A rat scuttles in the corner. It searches the floor, lifts boxes, turns everything upside-down. It has clearly lost something, but what?

I can’t stop myself from bumping into them. This clogs my cog again and throws me off course.

The creature yelps. He swats me away with a thick, long tail. Big, scared eyes study me.

Subject 46? Is that you? I ask. I doubt it. This rat looks nothing like the one I met in Frustrated Pigeons a long time ago. More scared, more scars, more mystery.

You ask too many questions.

"It … it was one question."

Beeline don’t like entities that ask too many questions.

They hiss and run past me. Don’t they understand that just makes me want to ask more questions?

I grab their tail with both my monkey hands. They turn around and know exactly what to attack. A jab with their teeth pries the cog loose and renders me completely immobile.

I let go and barely recover my cog, immediately pushing it back on my hip. I can still only move side to side, but at least I don’t do it automatically now.

My feet clip something. It sends me off course again, but still no lower or higher than I was.

During the fight, Beeline clumsily dropped several objects. Now I know how they lost something in the first place, I guess. One of the dropped items catches my attention, because huge red letters at the top say Mixware Top Secret.

The Beeline figure runs away. He heads in a straight line for something I should’ve noticed before: a door.

I follow. Of course I follow! They are somehow connected to the researchers.

But I make the mistake of glancing over my shoulder, to check if the other side also has a door. It has. This one shows a poster plastered to the wall.

A poster showing a bandaid with a purple glow.

That must be another Lost memory of mine. Another piece of my real life, of the parents and friends I am forced to miss, that’s … waiting for me somewhere?

This temporary reward for Uptopia Falls is the best ever. Read below how to claim this grand prize!

Broken buttons. Beeline is getting away. I want revenge on the researchers, maybe a way out. I also want my Lost Memory before this temporary reward somehow disappears.

Dear Player, make a choice. What should Wildebyte do?

Investigate through the Right Door

Chase Beeline through the Left Door

The Jumpers

I float towards the poster showing my Lost Memory. Before I can get too close, however, I am swarmed by other entities. Kangaroos. A whole bunch of kangaroos.

They bump into me as if I’m not there. And I can’t even get out of the way, because I still only move from side to side. Floating just above the ground, thanks to my singular busy cog.

Ew, a kangaroo says. "What kind of prize is that?"

"A bandaid? After having a literal treasure and infinite lives as the rewards? The developers have gone craaazy!"

"Well, I think it is a great prize, I say. How do I get it? Is there a challenge? A puzzle?"

They look me over. Then they laugh. The kangaroos who said ew walk away with disgust in their eyes. "Like you will ever get it, one-cogged-monkey."

What? You also have one cog!

I check them all. It’s true. A single cog is bolted to some hidden machinery at their side. For them, it rotates much more slowly, and doesn’t have the same effect, because they can just—what are they doing? It’s not walking. It’s not hopping.

Stay in your lane. You know what happened to the last entity that tried to go beyond their level.

"I do not."

They are jumping … but never coming down. With each hop, it’s like they take another step on some invisible stairs. They rip apart a few posters, complaining about the terrible reward, but not a single one of them actually falls down.

A voice behind me gives me a jump scare. I am Spy. You are the Wildebyte, aren’t you?

"Yes. And the Native Entities sent me here to help. I am helping."

The kangaroo laughs. She’s bigger than the others, almost like a mother to her kids.

Would you help us by giving away your cog?

I freeze. I was just about ready to help them with anything, but not this.

Why?

"As you see, we can only go up, doh. We need those filthy Droppers to help us get down once in a while. Oh their touch! Their presence! It’s like a sickness that must be kept away!"

She makes the mistake of hopping towards me, which means she’s now stuck to the ceiling with no way down. We’d love to be able to move side to side, like you. I think you can understand.

I do, I hear myself mumble.

My monkey paws caress the bolt on my side and notice there are more notches there, spaced apart evenly. Space for more cogs? Of course. When multiple cogs come together,