New Record

I never really liked calling myself a 'gamer' or anything of the sort, the term always felt weird and I stopped being into video games past the GameCube era. No real reason, I just fell out of it. But if I had to think of some kind of reason or catalyst as to why I just dropped out of games, my father passing away was probably it. I must've been 16 when he died, a heart attack in the middle of the night. I walked into the living room, the N64 was on, he was playing Mario Kart 64. We had a thing - he set the records on Time Trial, if I beat one, I'd get something. Maybe we'd go out for icecream, maybe we would go to the old video store near our house. Simple things, but good memories.

He was slumped out in the chair, covered in his own fluids after a night of decomposing. I saw the look in his eyes, frozen in agony. The menu music from the game fading into noise as I stared at what used to be my father. Calling the police was a no brainer, he shouldn't have died like this. He didn't even have any heart issues. It had to be murder of some kind, but of course... they never caugth him.

Fast forward 15 years or so, I'm cleaning out the attic in my new house. Lots of garbage, filth, things I would never think of touching nowadays. Then I find it - the old N64. Surprisingly well kept, with Mario Kart still in the cartridge slot. Holding it all these years later made me feel... strange. Like an odd form of tainted nostalgia. Then I remember those old Time Trial records, and the ghosts that you could get after you got a good record, and it hits me.

I can still play with my dad.

I spent a while going through those old records, I sucked at the game in all honesty. Most of the records my dad got were already beaten by me years prior, but one still stood: Yoshi Valley. It kicked my ass back then, and it certaintly kicked my ass now. But that just meant my dad, in some way, was still alive. A wave of sickly sentimentality washed over me when I saw my dad's ghost start moving, far and away outclassing me in terms of skill, even years later.

I kept myself glued to the screen for hours, it almost felt like he was there. It was comforting. But then...

His ghost began moving differently.

I thought it was just my mind playing tricks on me, I must've run the course a few dozen times at this point. The ghost's movements kept changing, at first only slightly. Little drifts and turns he did or didn't take, but then he began going entirely different routes. Sometimes he didn't even reach the goal in the recorded time, sometimes sooner or later.

For some reason, I felt like I had to say something. Even if I looked like an idiot.

"Dad?" I spoke, like I was expecting a response.

The ghost stopped. Right near the finish line, too.

"Move in reverse if you're really there."

I remembered how he played this game, how he drifted around corners, how he took certain shortcuts. Everything up until now made it clear that it had to be him. But I needed to know that I wasn't just crazy.

The ghost slowly drove backwards. Then it turned around, facing the screen.

It really was him.

I'm not sure what I was supposed to feel. How was this possible? Should I be scared? Or maybe I should just take this as a blessing, I could've easily went over the finish line without realizing what I had done.

"Dad...drive forward if you still love me."

He moved forward.

"Are you...happy in here?"

Forward, again.

"I'm so sorry I...left you in that box for so long. I'm sorry you had to be alone for so long."

The ghost drove up next to my kart, like he was trying to hug me. This was so much to process, but nevertheless, my father was back. Even if it wasn't in the flesh, he was here with me. I was so happy that I felt like I could cry.

I was so happy that I could kill him again.

I explained everything, the pills I slipped in his drink that night 15 years ago, where I buried mom after I poisoned her... I couldn't tell how he took it. He remained next to me, unmoving. But I knew he heard every word, even if he didn't want to.

I could only assume overwriting his ghost would kill him. Or maybe he would still be stuck in the system, somehow. Either way, I was done playing for the night.

"New record!"