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The screen glitched. For a moment, he saw a photo of himself as a child, laughing with his mom. Then it pixelated into nothing. He tried to recall the sound of her laugh—and realized he couldn’t. It was just… gone. An empty slot in his mind.

The next round began. The Miis scattered. Leo’s Mii hid in a closet. A timer counted down from ten. When it hit zero, the closet door opened. On the other side wasn’t the game world—it was his actual hallway. And standing there, holding a Wii Remote like a knife, was a Mii wearing his face. wii party iso

Leo’s Wii Remote vibrated violently. The game forced his Mii to walk toward a circle of thirteen chairs. Twelve other Miis loaded in—their faces smeared, eyes hollow. They looked like corrupted save files of people who had played before. The screen glitched

The screen went black. Then, white text appeared, typewriter-style: “You have been invited. Do you accept?” He tried to recall the sound of her

From that day on, Leo never played party games again. But sometimes, late at night, his Wii (which he had thrown in a dumpster) would chirp from somewhere in the dark outside. And the disc drive would spin. And the living room TV would turn on by itself, showing a single, pulsing icon: