Patch Notes & Pillow Talk

My ass was sore from not moving in hours. I sat on the couch and refreshed my phone for what had to be the millionth time.

Still nothing. No calls, no texts. Not a damn word from the fifty jobs I’d applied to—or Joe, who was supposed to swing by three hours ago.

Just me, my screen, and the judgmental reflection of my messy bun staring back at me in the black glass.

I sighed and peeled myself off the cushions. My back popped, my knees cracked—probably the most movement I’d had all day. I shuffled toward Clara’s room—my roommate, my best friend, and honestly, my only friend.

Three years ago, Joe promised we’d move in together. So, like a romantic dumbass, I rented a house. Then he bailed last-minute because of “family stuff,” and I got stuck holding the lease. A desperate Craigslist post and a sketchy-fast agreement later, Clara moved in—and somehow became my emergency contact and part-time therapist.

I pushed her door open and collapsed face-first onto her aggressively pink bed.

“AH! IT BURNS!” I shrieked, shielding my eyes from the overwhelming wall of plushies and pastel aggression.

Clara spun around in her bubblegum-pink gaming chair, pure horror on her face. “Get off my bed! You stink. I just washed those sheets!”

I ignored her and flailed like a Victorian heroine in crisis, fake-foaming at the mouth before going still.

She whipped a stuffed Frodo Baggins at my head. “OW.”

“Get. Out. You’re ruining my kill streak!”

“You and that game,” I muttered, hugging Frodo hostage.

Clara scowled at me. “You could actually benefit from a distraction, you know.”

“I’m not playing your stupid game. Video games just rot your brain.”

“Says the woman whose screen time is up 28% this week.” Her eyebrow lifted with surgical precision. “Stateplay is fun. It’s social. And what’s the difference between grinding levels and doomscrolling, anyway?”

No comeback. She had me there. I had been surgically attached to my phone lately.

“Maybe some social play would help,” she added, a little softer.

She wasn’t wrong. I’d been laid off from my job at the school last month. No callbacks. My bank account was starting to look like a horror movie. And I was very much stuck in an depressive state

I groaned and rolled off her bed. Clara sighed in relief.

On the way out, I caught a whiff of myself and winced. Yikes. Okay, maybe she had a point. Time to shower.

After scrubbing myself borderline raw, I flopped onto my bed, towel turban on my head, door half-open. My room looked like a gray-scale Pinterest board had given up halfway through—minimalist or just… bleak.

My phone buzzed.

Joe: Hey, not gonna make it today. Grandma’s not feeling well.

I groaned.

He’d been helping with her since her surgery. I got it. I wasn’t mad. Not really. But still… he’d been “not making it today” a lot lately.

Another buzz.

I lunged for the phone like a raccoon chasing a snack.

Email: Your account is below zero.

Perfect.

I opened my laptop and rage-Googled: how to make money online

Scroll.

Feet pics? No.

Cam work? Double no.

Email gigs? Ugh.

“Get paid to play games”?

Curious, I clicked. Most of it looked like junk. Scammy apps, weird promises. But then:

Stateplay – Your state has been sucked into a magical realm! Work with other local players to reclaim your land and conquer the map. Earn $10 every five levels.

From the other room, Clara let out an unhinged cackle. “SUCK IT!” she screamed into her headset.

I looked at the screen again.

Could be easy money. Could get Clara off my back. Could even be kinda fun.

I clicked “Download.”

The screen went black. Music blasted.

A robotic voice boomed: “Welcome to Stateplay, my lord. Please choose a location.”

I selected California.

“What shall we call you?”

I stared at the blinking cursor. No clue. I hit the randomizer.

BeefPrincess.

I snorted. Then typed two extra keys.

BeefPrincess69.

Perfect.

Welcome, BeefPrincess69! Your state has been overtaken by monsters. Work together with other players to reclaim your realm and survive in your new magical world. Good luck, citizen!

The screen went dark again.

Loading…

California faded into view—twisted and overgrown, smog hanging in the air, the Golden Gate Bridge half-eaten by vines.

I blinked. “...The hell did I just sign up for?”