Intro
“ I just wanna ball, Humpty Dumpty’s gonna fall”- Delete
When he rolled out of bed, the ice cracked off the mattress. Cold wasn’t a feeling for him—it was his life. The fluttering of bat wings welcomed the crack of dawn. Frosty slid off of his ice-cold mattress and onto the crimson carpet, cracking the layer of frost with his butt. Now, his ass was cold.
That wasn’t a problem for the coolest man alive. You could say he was the embodiment of cool.
In fact, Frosty was so cold, his deceased girlfriend called him her personal AC unit.
Here are a couple of burbs:
“Why are my nipples hard?” — Slimy Bandit
“Colder than the frigid embrace of death.” — Crystal
“How am I supposed to eat this pizza now? Fuck this guy.” — Random
Anyway, he strolled over to his desk in the corner of the room, half-opening the window so the hissing, burning, and turning-to-ash thing wouldn’t happen. For him, the sun was annoying. For the love of his life, it was death.
The room was dim, lit by the soft pulse of Frosty’s monitor and the occasional flicker from the floating hologram photo over the bed—him and Crystal, frozen mid–peace sign like they were trying to sell a vacation getaway.
Crystal slept nearby, curled like a vampiric cat, in a nest of aesthetically ominous throw pillows, clinging to a Crystal-sized pillow with “Die Cute” vertically stitched on. Her skin had already turned that faint, icy-blue tint; she’d call it her “favorite shade of love.”
Frosty cracked his knuckles, neck, and back before he sat with the grace of a washed superhero who peaked eons ago.
The monitor blinked once—then again. It stammered. Frosty’s reflection…glitched? for half a frame.
He didn’t seem to notice.
The Steam Zone – VC Active:
[YUSUKE-Ken]: “We on.”[SLEEPYACTION]: “…Why are we on? I was in the middle of something important.”[DELETETHEGAME]: “What the—sleeping is not important. Man, DELETE THIS CHANNEL.”[SLIMEY BANDIT]: “Who tryna game and earn rare slime tokens?”[MIZHA has joined the call.][MIZHA has muted herself.][MIZHA (chat)]: [🔪🔪🔪] Delete if you heal yourself again, I will respawn inside your walls.[JOETHEHOE]: “Good morning Frostyyy!! You sleep okay? Crystal not tryin’ to drink your soul again, right?”
Frosty blinked, sipping frozen tea like it owed him answers.
[DM from YUSUKEYo. Hop in. Joe picked support. Mizha is already mad. Slimey’s talkin’ crypto again.]
“Sounds like a good day to stay offline,” Frosty muttered, already joining the call.
[JOETHEHOE] “Frosty!!” Joe chirped. “We were waitin’ on you, bud. I picked healer, but I think I broke it? I can’t... UN-poison people.”
[SLIMEY BANDIT] “You’re playing necro-cleric, bro,” Slimey explained. “You poison with vibes, then cleanse through emotional catharsis. It’s simple.”
[MIZHA (chat)]: [😒💀📉] He is lying.
“Y’all finna… It’s ok, I gotcha’ll,” Frosty mumbled, picking “Support Healer” out of moral obligation. There was still a part of him that wanted to win despite the lackluster stats.
TL;dr, his friends were trash.
The game launched.
A bass-boosted menu theme blasted through his headphones. A screen shook itself to pieces. Mizha was already screen sharing some cursed setup guide. Delete was muting and unmuting rhythmically like he was coding trauma into Morse. Sleepy hadn’t moved.
This was a mistake.
Match Found.You are now entering: The Wub-War Arena: Neon Variant
In Wub-War Arena, each team had five active and up to five inactive members, chosen from the draft screen in full view of the enemy. Pick a character, pick a role, ban a few others. Done.
Active players were frontline: visible, mobile, and allowed to score.
Inactives were backline: stuck behind barriers, casting buffs and throwing support tools, barred from direct offense.
A ten v. ten match, in theory—but more like a bard battle royale where victory came from crowd approval, not kill count. Whoever got the most people screaming in chat? That team won.
Each fighter channeled chaos through enchanted instruments, rhythm-synced attacks, or literal weaponized stage presence.
Frosty and Joe were supposed to be backline.
BUT… again: Sleepy wasn’t moving.
So here he was. With her.
The match snapped into life with a kaleidoscope of lights and a distorted trap beat that made the air vibrate. Frosty’s avatar shimmered onto the field: icy-blue jacket with pixel-snow drifting off it, headphones glowing like a frozen DJ. He carried a sleek mic stand like a scythe—untouched.
Joe hovered beside him, dual-wielding glowsticks, his hoodie bouncing slightly as he hopped in place. His backline avatar had adorable Canadian flag patches stitched onto the shoulders. His skin was gray and his purple tongue hung idle over his lip. His role? Barely registered healer.
Frosty leaned over the voice line. “Hey, the game started.”
He looked left.
Sleepy’s avatar was lying on the stage floor. Literally. Wrapped in a digital blanket, wearing bunny slippers, holding a triangle. A little idle animation showed her breathing slowly.
“Hey!” he snapped.
[SleepyACTION]: “…”
… A voice buzzed in his ears: Joe the Hoe is now active.
!!!
[SleepyACTION]: “I got my blankie… Let’s go!”
“Oh my god…”
[SLEEPYACTION]: “What are you still doing back here? Come on.”
[SLIMEY BANDIT]: “WE’RE GETTING COOKED! WHERE’S THE HEALS?!”
Slimey barrel-rolled past the back and into the frontlines like he was being chased by waterbufflos. His avatar was gelatinous and semi-transparent, with glowing graffiti tags sliding across his body like a scrolling sponsor banner. He dual-wielded records, spinning wildly and launching them like chakrams.
[JOETHEHOE]: “Well, you’re too far slime, how about you regro—“
[DeleteTHEGAME:] “He’s fucking dead.”
[Yusuke-Kun]: “Maybe if he waited like I sai—Sleepy, where did you come from?”
Yusuke’s avatar descended from above like a mid-tier boss intro: half-angelic, half-demonic armor, glowing energy wings flared out, spirit mic in one hand, no nonsense in the other.
[SleepyACTION]: “I was waiting on Frosty.” She was quite literally lounging on the barricade.
A system prompt chimed in a calm, British, and feminine voice:
You are now active
Frosty blinked. “Who the hell died three times?”
A combination of glowing musical notes pulsed across the barricade, splitting it open for one short, mercy-less breath—just long enough to eject Frosty onto the battlefield. He stumbled forward, sliding across neon gridlines into the middle of sound and fury.
Out of the digital void, a small, blobby window popped up beside him.
Joe’s status? Dead.
[JOETHEHOE]: “Sorry guys, I didn’t see that bass mine there. On the bright side, we got another healer now!”
“Oh great,” Frosty muttered, sidestepping a saxophone wave saxing for him. “Just hold the line, Mizha!”
The battlefield pulsed with color and sound. One of the enemy team’s avatars—a hyper-pink violinist with six arms—did a backflip off a speaker stack and sniped Slimey with a high note. Slimey exploded into slime particles, and one of the crowd emojis popped up:
💀🧽: “BRO GOT WASTED.”
[SLIMEY BANDIT]: “Skill diff. … I lagged.”
[YUSUKE-KUN]: “Slimey. You turned around to type that in the middle of the fight.”
[MIZHA (chat)]: [😭🧂🎻] This is ranked, she’s not even fedddddd.
The music ramped up. Not theirs—the enemy team’s theme, now echoing across the arena like a boss music. The crowd emoji bar leaned heavily against them, full of 🔥💃🧨🔊 while Frosty’s side was pulling 🥶💀💀.
[YUSUKE-KUN]: “Focus. Push the middle. Mizha, take the right flank. Delete, drop tempo now—”
[DELETETHEGAME]: “Too late.”
On cue, the tempo spiked. A wave of amplified snare beats hit the front line like a sonic boom. Mizha and Delete were tossed into the air, launched like ragdolls by a glitchwave bassist in a mech-suit made of speakers.
[MIZHA (chat)]: [📣🫠📉] We got bass cannoned. I felt that IRL.
[DELETETHEGAME]: “I’m alive, but these guys are too strong.”
Frosty slid behind a glowing amp, spamming his heal chords like it was a holy hymn. His screen flickered with “CRITICAL CHORD / LOW TEMPO” warnings as his cooldowns evaporated.
Across the arena, Slimey tried to 1v4 the enemy backline by literally slingshotting himself out of a turntable cannon. Meanwhile, Mizha, Delete, and Yusuke were trying to fend off a solitary bassist.
Slime immediately froze--mid-air--by a soprano note.
His health bar flatlined.
[GAME]: Slime Dito – OUT.
[SLIMEY]: “Bro this game is ass.”
[YUSUKE]: “Hehehe, they put him on a T-shirt.”
[JOE]: “You guys are doing amazingggg!” Joe was still dead, vibing with the doom music.
*PING*
[MIZHA (chat)]: [🥀] Who’s subbing in?
[GAME]: Activating Bench Player 7…
[NEW PLAYER JOINED]: Clesdito
Clesphere blinked into existence, his avatar wearing a flowery blue button-up with clashing pink shades. A plastic drink cup was stuck to one hand, a glowing ukulele in the other.
[CLESDITO]: “Wait, am I in? Oh, okay, uh—wait, where are we?”
He turned. A violin flew past his head. Then a laser note. Then, Delete exploded nearby.
[CLESDITO]: “Cool, cool, cool. I haven’t played this mode before. What’s my role again?”
[MIZHA (chat)]: [😐🍹🧃] Why does he have two smoothies
[YUSUKE-KUN]: “Backline, support. Cles, do NOT go near the enemy’s tempo zone.”
[CLESDITO]: “Yo! This little sparkle is following me. Do I click it?”
He clicked it mid-question. The arena turned purple. Everyone slowed down. For exactly five seconds. Then Mizha and Delete were bombarded by an eardrum-piercing blast of sound.
[CLESDITO]: “That was underwhelming.”
[GAME]: Mizha – OUT.
[GAME]: Delete – OUT.
[JOETHEHOE]: “Hey, we’re trying our best. Good job, good job.”
[DELETETHEGAME]: “I need a smoke.”
[GAME]: Activating Bench Player 5...[NEW PLAYER JOINED]: Sleepy_Action
Sleepy blinked onto the battlefield, standing on a magic blanket, triangle raised skyward, half-lidded eyes glowing faintly.
[SLEEPYACTION]: “...I brought my blanket.”
“Yeah, I see that.” Frosty muttered, trying to tame his frigid comments.
[JOETHEHOE]: “Let’s go squad!!”[SLIMEY BANDIT]: “Ay, she looks hella comfy.”[MIZHA (chat)]: [💅😴📉] Give ’em hell, queen!
With four players left, the system amped the difficulty. Abilities now left afterimages, and the arena glitched slightly with every major hit. Crowd approval was maxed out on the other side, glowing in gold and red emojis. Frosty’s team? A lot of 🥶🪦💔.
But—for a moment—it started to click.
Yusuke called plays:
[YUSUKE-KUN:] “Sleepy right flank. Cles, distract center. Frosty, follow me.”
Clesphere sprinted forward—ukulele on his back, drink in hand—and tossed a glowing synthbomb that stunned two enemies.
[CLESDITO]: “Yo, I hit something!! Wait... what was that even? Did I make that?”
Sleepy drifted across the map, dinging her triangle rhythmically. Her special activated—a slow-time field that dropped enemy movement speed by x%.
Frosty trailed Yusuke, throwing every cooldown he had into group tempo buffs and heals. The team beat actually synced for once.
The crowd favor bar started inching up. Just a little. Frosty gritted his teeth.
“We can win this if we lock in.” Frosty’s blank expression melted off into a hope-filled smirk.[CLESDITO: “Like, emotionally?”[SLEEPYACTION]: “I’m already locked in… to this bed.”
Yusuke charged up his Spirit Boom Mic.
[YUSUKE-KUN]: “FINAL PUSH. DON’T STOP.”
The enemy team launched their final combo—a team-synced chain of breakbeats and glitch-chords, surging through the arena like a tidal wave.
Yusuke tanked the initial two waves.
Sleepy threw up her blanket as a shield—a fuzzy, glitching field of pillow energy highlighted it.
Clesphere launched his spell roulette, got lucky, and hit a crowd-hype swap that switched audience approval. They were in the lead.
Frosty?
He overclocked his heals, breaking his UI, keeping everyone standing. “C’mon... c’mon—!” They were on the precipice of sweet victory, he could taste the VP (Vibe points) now.
And then came the bassline.
The enemy team dropped a scapegoat ultimate: “Crush Chorus.” It reset all crowd modifiers and slammed soundwaves into their front line with a triple-score modifier.
Yusuke was the first to fall. A burst of static and light.
[GAME]: Yusuke-Kun – OUT.
Clesphere tripped mid-dash, accidentally walked into his own AoE, and flew back into the residue soundwaves
[GAME]: Clesdito – OUT.
[CLESDITO]: “Worth it. Probably.”
[Yusuke-KUN]: “Our dps is gone…”
Sleepy lasted the longest—her triangle dinged defiantly through the final chord, her face flat with concentration.
[SLEEPYACTION]: “I believe in you, Frosty.”
Then she exploded in a puff of feathers and cottonballs.
[GAME]: Sleepyaction – OUT.
And finally, Frosty—slowed, out of mana, and lagging from stress—turned to cover, but got caught by a masked figure with pigtails, holding a flute-bat. He looked on in horror before the whistle and crack of the weapon ended him.
[GAME]: Frosty_ID – OUT.
Defeat.
Silence.
The arena dimmed. Fireworks from the winning team exploded in the sky. A digital crowd roared.
[SLIMEY BANDIT]: “L team.”[DELETETHEGAME]: “Delete my VOD.”[JOETHEHOE]: “That was so fun though!! You guys were awesome!!”
[SLEEPYACTION]: “Frosty’s dog water. I believed in you!”[MIZHA (chat)]: [😔🔧💀] At least we didn’t disconnect. Growth.
The match was over.The post-game lobby screen pulsed with smug confetti and taunting victory music.A chibi version of the enemy team danced in the corner, mocking them with every frame. One of them even dabbed. A war crime.
Frosty rubbed his eyes. The frost had crept up his forearms, again, his fingertips brushed across cold keys, kin to soothing old battle scars.
“…We’re going outside,” he said flatly.
[YUSUKE-KUN]: “Copy that.”[SLEEPYACTION]: “I’m already halfway in my hoodie.”[JOETHEHOE]: “Arcade time?! Can I bring juice?”[SLIMEY BANDIT]: “Bet. I’m bringing my amps.”
Frosty clicked over to IRL Stream Mode.The camera blinked on, framing his reflection in the corner of the screen—a cold glow under tired eyes, his braids glinting with static light.
“Chat… we taking this outside.”
The stream flickered once, just once, as if something in the signal didn’t want to let go.
