Creepypasta (Rewritten)

Pokemon Dead Channel (REWRITE)

A/N: Almost a month ago, someone sent me a list of Creepypastas that I could try and rewrite. I don't usually get requests and I was starting to reconsider it, but that someone has changed that and made me realize how much I've missed. Now, of course, I won't do ALL of them, but at least I made a list of what stories I should give a shot. I didn't read Pokemon Dead Channel until it was requested, but now that I did, I can definitely say that star-byte was just as competent at writing as JC-the-Hyena. I mean, this was Sonic.exe before Sonic.exe because of the child-friendly characters becoming evil murderers. And the fact that I found it on DeviantArt didn't help. So, I present to you what star-byte could've done.

And special thanks to the one who requested the story: 

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I was introduced to video games a tad later than most other people. To say I was asocial during my early childhood would be an understatement. I'd spent most of my days in a prison-like school, and my nights rotted away with mind-numbing TV. Life was dull, and all I had were my stuffed animals and cheap plastic toys to keep me company.

But everything changed when I got a GameCube.

I believe it was the Christmas of 2003. When I got my very first video game console, I was overjoyed. It came with three games: Super Mario Sunshine, Pac-Man World 2, and Pokémon Channel. Each of those games still holds a special place in my heart today. When the GameCube was set up and ready to go, I began playing it immediately.

The first game I played was Super Mario Sunshine. This game is what got me hooked on the Mario series. After playing it for hours and finally beating a level that gave me a headache, I turned to Pac-Man World 2. Amazingly enough, I got stuck on level two. Infuriated that I couldn't find the way out (even though the answer was literally RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY EYES), I quit and started playing my first-ever Pokémon game: Pokémon Channel.

I know now that not many people like this game, but when I started playing, it didn't take long for me to fall in love with it.

When the time came for me to name my Pikachu, I unwittingly called it BRVR, short for Brother. What compelled me to give him such a strange nickname that didn't even sound like a shortened version of brother? I'll never know. Regardless, I still enjoyed playing.

There is no way for me to describe how much I love this game. It was everything that I had ever dreamed of. In this game, I had a friend that I could play with. I could watch TV with BRVR, go fishing with him, play tic-tac-toe with him, talk to other Pokémon with him, grow a garden, build a snowman, explore ancient ruins, play musicals, tell stories around campfires, gaze at the stars, and so much more. All the things I never got to do with anyone in real life, I was able to do in this virtual world with BRVR, the best friend I never had.

In case I didn't make it obvious, I was addicted, but I had nothing else to use up my time with. Instead, I put it all into this game. I preferred to stay oblivious to everything happening in the real world and spend my time in this Pokémon fantasy with my best friend, BRVR.

Whenever I was sad, he would appear to look and act depressed with me. Whenever I was angry, he would show and express my rage. If I needed something to cheer me up, he would act goofy, leap at me, and do other silly things.

Later on, when I grew older and wiser, I just assumed that all of these strange events never really happened, and when I was younger, I had just simply imagined it, but it was still fun to pretend he was real.

But then I began to play too much, and my parents noticed it. Two years after I started playing Pokémon, my parents had had enough of me playing video games all day, doing nothing, getting awful grades, and never bothering to go out and meet actual people.