Tag: tsp-narrator

“You were… ‘made for this?’” asked the Narrator. He grew slightly giddy as the implications of this information became clear to him. “Does that mean you were an artificially-engineered organism created in some sort of scientific facility? Or maybe that you’re a homunculus from one of those fantasy stories? Or – even – a fictional character, brought into the light of day by some child’s imagination?”

Quiet scratching noises issued from the ceiling; the Narrator was writing something down. “The character opportunities are endless,” he murmured, half to himself. “An eighty-year-old cartoon inkblot, drawn to repeat the same monotonous task” – his voice abruptly rose in pitch – “like Stanley! Like Stanley and his buttons!”

The Repairman’s anger quickly subsided and was replaced by confusion, though he did take a bit of offense at the “child’s imagination” idea.

He sighed as the Narrator began taking notes. He had expected a long day, but for different reasons.

“Eighty-three,” he muttered, as he began boarding up the cracks in the Wall.

He looked up as the voice suggested he was like this “Stanley” guy.

“What buttons?” he asked. If he got the Narrator talking a bit about Stanley’s life, maybe he could piece together something more to this place than yellow carpeting and a disembodied Brit.

“Oh,” said the Narrator. “Oh. Well.”

The Repairman’s remark had thrown him off-balance; he hadn’t expected something so cutting from the mouth of an strange, misshapen inkblot. That… that hurt. 

“Well, you’re doing an uninspired job of fixing the fourth wall, yourself. Don’t you realize that’s a hopeless task? Nowadays, breaking the fourth wall is all the rage. Don’t fool yourself, inkblot, or you’ll be taping together an imaginary wall for the rest of your life. Most people would find that job… soul-crushing.”

The Repairman felt a twinge of guilt as the narrator reacted. He had expected to make a point, but this voice seemed to take it personally. Maybe he should apolo-

“IMAGINARY?!”

The Repairman reddened somewhat. All thoughts of guilt escaped him, as did any more thoughts about being careful.

“Listen, you…” he fumed, knocking on the Wall, “This wall is no more imaginary than you are! I should know; I’ve been fixing it for over eighty years!”

He breathed heavily, realizing he was just adding more to his workflow.

“Besides,” he said, more quietly, “I was made for this. I could probably do this for another eighty years.”

He somewhat regretted that last statement, but it was true. It was what he was drawn to do, after all.

He silently turned back to his toolbox, digging for some planks and nails.

“Oh,” said the Narrator. “Information. Yippee.”

He fell silent, absorbing everything he had learned about this strange newcomer. “So,” he said finally. “You’re a cartoon… character. Pleasure to meet you. I myself am a character from the video game The Stanley Parable. I am voiced by British voice actor Kevan Brighting. Currently everything that I am saying or doing is being related through the social networking website Tumblr. I am in a work of fiction right now.”

The Narrator waited to see if his words had the intended effect.

The Repairman’s blobby form visibly sagged. It was going to be one of those jobs, wasn’t it?

Sighing, he continued taping the Fourth Wall. While it certainly wasn’t pretty, the absolute mess of tape would be enough to fix things. Soon enough, it wouldn’t even be noticeable.

“You’re not the first to do that,” he remarked. If he had teeth, he would have been gritting them, though it sounded the same.

He looked up at the ceiling. While narrators didn’t have places, per se, it felt right.

“In fact,” he said, somewhat louder, “I’d say that’s pretty uninspired.”

He hoped that would get this voice to knock it off. Their conversation already wasn’t doing the Wall any favors. There was no need to be blatant.

“I see,” said the Narrator drily. “I didn’t include an inventory in my game,” he added as an afterthought. “I thought it would be too derivative.”

He winced as the Repairman began ripping up pieces of duct tape. The sound of the adhesive was, somehow, even worse than the staple gun. “By the way, what is a ‘Toon’ and why do you feel the need to capitalize it?”

“Hope Stanley never had to carry anything,” the Repairman muttered as he began taping cracks in the Fourth Wall.

“Oh, a Toon? Well…”

He pulled a projection screen out of his toolbox, with a noticeable vzzt sound. Despite the lack of a projector, the whirring of film could be heard as the screen showed a muted clip of Steamboat Willie.

“A Toon,” the Repairman began, “is a drawn, rendered, or animated character.”

The projection changed to reveal the word “Toon.”

“The word Toon comes from ‘cartoon,’” the Repairman continued, the screen continuing to change in time with his small lecture. “It’s capitalized so it can’t be confused with ‘toon, or cartoon. But make no mistake, video game, comic book, and other drawn or rendered folks are Toons as well.”

The projection flickered off, and the screen slid back into his toolbox. Well, that was how he understood it, at least. It would explain how some Toons he encountered weren’t traditionally…Toony.

Not that he cared whether it was “Toony” or not. He had a job to do, so he went and taped up some more breaks as if he hadn’t just gone a bit over-the-top.

“Hammerspace?” said the Narrator, confused. “No, I don’t believe I have… Is that a space with hammers? Or is it one of those ‘Homestick’ things?”

The incessant wall-stapling was beginning to bother him. He hadn’t included building repair in the list of activities one could reasonably perform within The Stanley Parable. What was this little inkblot thing doing, waltzing in like that, tampering with his game? The one thing he owned, in the entire world, and this Repairman was…

The Narrator decided, all of a sudden, that perhaps he did not like the Repairman very much.

The Repairman continued to staple, oblivious to the annoyance it was causing. His staple gun quickly ran out, however, so as he was switching to duct tape, he replied:

"No, it’s…”

He thought for a minute. How could he explain it?

“Well,” he ventured, the duct tape making loud tearing noises as he pulled it, "You know how game inventories are usually more spacious than you’d think? Hammerspace is the same thing, for Toons.“

The Repairman appeared to be distressed by something outside of the Narrator’s field of view. Was it the fourth wall? It was possible, the Narrator reasoned, his gaze fixed on the tape recorder. It was possible.

“Well,” said the Narrator. “Well. Yes. I think that would help. Where did you get that?”

“Ever hear of ‘hammerspace’?” the Repairman asked as he took a staple gun out from behind his back.

There were several ka-CHUNKs as he hastily fixed what he had caused, making sure none of the staples were hitting anything other than the Wall.

“Please,” he implored, “Continue. Don’t worry, this’ll pick it up.”

Still stapling, he turned the recorder to reveal three switches. These switches were labeled “Music,” “Sound,” and "Voice.“ The "Voice” switch was the only one that was up.

“I’ve been practicing,” said the Narrator glumly. “Oh, how I’ve been practicing – 3-D modeling, programming, map design… all the technical knick-knacks and fancies I had to learn in order to present my story! I had thought to myself that maybe, if the chance presented itself, I would be able to create another story, this time using a technical finesse even greater than that of The Stanley Parable. But, right now, I’m just lounging about in the abandoned remains of my first foray into the world of video-gaming…”

His voice trailed off as he surveyed the office area around him.

Even with his self-imposed limitation, the Toon couldn’t have said he knew how that felt. After all, his job was never-ending, as far as he was concerned. With places like this, he’d always be busy. Besides, he was no storywriter, or video game programmer, just a Repairman.

A Repairman who was pulling out a tape recorder. It was in decent condition, and the tape in it was labeled “Video Game Tropes.”

He held it out, one of his hands over the record button, and asked aloud, “Would it help if we looked at those tropes now?”

He tried his best to ignore what he just caused. With all the other breaks in this area, that wasn’t too hard.

“Stanley… hmm…” The Narrator lapsed into silence, apparently in deep thought. “I… honestly, I don’t remember? I don’t think I remember. He was here, for a while, the star of the story. He knew how to make choices, or at least he usually did, and I suppose he just…” His voice trailed off, lost. “…disappeared.”

The Repairman considered this, though he tried to hide it. It seemed odd that this narrator would still be lurking around an empty corporate space after the main character went AWOL.

“Hmm. So what exactly are you doi–” The Repairman put his hands over where his mouth would have been, but it was too late.

Ask an innocent question, get more work piled onto you.

After quickly gluing the crack in the Wall that appeared next to him (all the while, muttering a number of reprimands at himself), he decided it was time to move further down. As interesting as this was, he still had his job to do. Maybe he’d listen to the tropes after all this was done.

He pulled yet another sign from behind his back that asked “So what are you doing, since he’s gone?” and took his toolbox with him, past the cubicles.

In a flash, the Narrator had slid into his sales-pitch voice. “The Stanley Parable is a first-person interactive video game available for human dollars on Steam,” he said smoothly. “It’s gotten rave reviews from critics. You play as Stanley, and you do not play as Stanley. There is a story. There is no story. Isn’t that inspiring? Truly, a one-of-a-kind artistic experience that you can definitely purchase on Steam!”

Stanley? So there was someone else here! That explained a lot.

The Repairman used his trowel to catapult cement at the crack beyond the window. It took a few tries, but it was eventually done to the inkblot’s satisfaction.

He put the bucket and trowel away, and as he did, he pulled out an envelope. Carefully opening it, he revealed a note that said “So, where is this Stanley person right now?”

“You fix – the Fourth Wall?” the Narrator choked. He was, quite clearly, trying not to laugh. “Are you serious? As if that was something that needed fixing!”

After taking a much-needed moment to compose himself, the Narrator said in a measured tone, “It seems you might have the credentials to be the central protagonist of one of my stories. I can see it already: The Inkblot Parable, an interactive story-filled adventure, filled with witty and insightful commentary on the nature of video gaming.”

He paused.

“Ugh, no, wait. I already did that.”

He mumbled some profanity under his breath.

The Repairman’s entire body reddened slightly as his breath became a bit heavier. Of all people, this narrator was telling him the Fourth Wall didn’t need fixing? Really? The Repairman was made for this job, and it was all he could do to not rant and rave at this… this voice telling him his lifelong career was worthless.

The Repairman eventually swallowed his pride and listened to the Narrator’s pitch. After it was over, the Repairman looked out the window, then went back into his toolbox to search for his trowel and his bucket of cement.

Before he got those out, he tossed out an inner tube, a 6-pack of brand-free soda, and a sign that said “You did? Do tell.”