Terms and Conditions

by Fahrenheit

Rating: teen
Tags: Adventure, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Alternate Universe, Original Character, Comedy
Length: 10112

When a budding filmmaker gets an invitation to a mysterious meeting, she's sure that she's about to enter a world of secrets and spies. It's actually just a high-tech adventure with a bunch of strangers. Not that she's complaining.

Viridian Meadows knows she has an overactive imagination, but she was fairly positive that the mysterious letter delivered to her door was her ticket into a hidden world of nefarious plots, evil villains, and world-shattering secrets.

Instead, she's invited to put her life in the virtual hands of a piece of technology that doesn't really make sense in order to embark upon a vaguely-described adventure with a bunch of complete strangers—all in the hopes of landing a job that hasn't actually been explained.

Naturally, it's the best thing to ever happen to her. Maybe she'll even make some friends.

An entry for the Poniverse Mascot Summerpalooza Contest. Characters used in accordance with contest guidelines.

Spanish Translation from Spaniard Kiwi!

Published 2015-08-10 12:20:01 UTC
Last updated 2015-08-10 12:20:01 UTC

Restrictions May Apply

The soft babble of the morning news tugs at my consciousness, but doesn't quite awaken me. What does force me to open my eyes, however, is the shrill ringing of my vintage alarm clock, which demands attention much like an angry foal convinced of its own abandonment. It's not actually an infant, though, so I feel no remorse for hurling it across the room. It hits the wall with a satisfying thump and falls silent.

Nestling back into the glorious kingdom of pillows and blankets that serves as my bed, I smile. My thoughts drift to the nearly-finished screenplay sitting in my awaiting saddlebags.

'Vintage,' however, is really just a fancy way of saying 'older than that dead houseplant that's been sitting on the sill since you moved in.' In the case of my alarm clock, 'vintage' refers to a time when engineers were fond of making their products nearly indestructible. My clock reminds me of its immortality by going off again.

With a long-suffering sigh, I throw back my blankets and stumble out of bed. The stone floor beneath my hooves is uncomfortably chilly, though I suspect it's more to do with the fact that I'm used to warmer climates than any real fault of the tile. It takes a few whacks to turn the alarm off properly, but it eventually stops shrieking. Back on my nightstand it goes, to sulk until tomorrow.

Hey, if today's meeting goes well, maybe I'll reward myself with a lazy morning.

Opening the curtains lets in a bit of sunlight and a charming view of my neighbor's roof. I stare at its asymmetrical silhouette as I munch on a bowl of cereal, half-listening to the news anchor as he prattles on about rising property values, the day's scheduled weather, and an upcoming announcement from some hotshot in the technology industry.

It's a nice roof, I acknowledge, chewing thoughtfully. Granted, it's not much different from the rest of the building—the entire thing looks as though it was hewn from the depths of the earth mere hours ago. It really adds to the whole crystal theme the entire Empire's got going on. Very shiny, too.

A short morning routine later, I'm trotting through said Empire's glittering streets with my camera around my neck and a bounce to my step, following the softly-glowing Main Street to the center of the city. I was lucky enough to snag an apartment in a mostly-residential area, so there aren't too many ponies out and about at this hour. It's just me and sixty shades of the morning sky; the polished faces of the surrounding buildings reflect everything, which is going to make filming my movie rather tricky, once I find a production crew willing to move out here.

Tricky, but not impossible. I inhale appreciatively, then pause to snap a picture of the dazzling fragments of the sunrise that the houses are reflecting upon the street. This'll be a good place to add to my scrapbook of potential shooting locations.

Tucking a green strand of mane back underneath my headband, I continue on.

The peaceful stillness of the neighborhood gradually gives way to the curt hubbub of the business district, but everything remains fairly subdued until I skirt around the Palace and turn down another crystal-paved street. Standing a bit further down the road, facing me, are two mares—saddlebag-wearing earth ponies like myself, only with purple manes and travel-worn faces.

At least, the mare with the darker, upswept hair looks weary. She's huddled in the silky scarf wrapped around her neck, but her left eye has a steady tic and she appears to be clenching her jaw something fierce. Beside her, a mare with a braided pink-and-purple mop of curls squints at a piece of paper, chattering away. I can hear her from halfway down the block.

"I dunno, Viola, the map says we're in the right place, and I trust a map waaaay more than grumpy old stallions working at a train station. Like, this one time, I accidentally left my suitcase in Phillydelphia—"

"You've already told me this story," Viola grumbles. "Three times, I might add."

The other mare giggles nervously. "Really? Whoops. I guess you're just super easy to talk to."

"I'm so fortunate," Viola mutters. The other mare doesn't seem to notice, but jabs a hoof emphatically at the glitter-encrusted map.

"Nope, we're definitely in the right place. We're on Fifth Street, and that right there is the only building with twos on it that I see."

Viola cranes her neck, glancing first to the modest green cottage the other mare is pointing at, then around at the surrounding office complexes. "It can't be the right place—it's far too...underwhelming. We're meeting Pixel Wavelength, for goodness' sake."

They immediately have my full attention. Did she say Pixel Wavelength?

In my saddlebags, carefully clipped to the front of my movie script, is a letter requesting my presence at twenty-two Fifth Street in fifteen minutes. Aside from the date and location, the note is fairly vague as to what I'm needed for—something about a potential job offer, nothing more. If it hadn't been delivered with an honest-to-Celestia royal seal, I would've thrown it in with the junk mail. But it had a royal seal, right next to a dainty signature declaring 'Pixel Wavelength' as the sender.

It also had a bunch of fancy titles and stuff listed under the name that was probably supposed to impress me, but anypony that gets to sign their mysterious meeting invitations with a royal seal is already ranking pretty high on the importance meter.

Ooh, I wonder if this Wavelength pony wants me to go undercover and gather video evidence against enemies of the state. Now that would be a great story to adapt for the screen.

Viola's companion shrugs, rolling up the map. "Well, Vi—can I call you Vi? It's so edgy and sophisticated—"

"The answer remains no."

"Hey!" I call out, trotting up to them. "Hey, are you two headed to twenty-two Fifth Street, too?" I mentally slap myself as soon as the words are out of my mouth. Way to sound like a number-obsessed idiot, Viridian.

Heh. Veridiot.

Viola looks at me like she can't decide if she should be horrified or awed, but her companion just giggles.

"That's a lotta twos." She beams at me. "But yeah, we are! Wait— did you get a letter about a job, too?"

"I did!"

"That's crazy!" she squeals, doing a little jig. "What are the odds of three of us getting the same letter?"

"Apparently no less plausible than the odds of both of you being complete imbeciles," Viola huffs. She points to the numbers etched in the side of the building. "That clearly says twenty-two, so could we perhaps quit loitering and go inside?"

The other mare nudges me. "I don't think she's quite attuned with our excitement, Mare of Twos."

I grin. "Maybe she just isn't thrilled about sharing this opportunity with us."

"Touché."

Viola groans.

Five minutes later, Viola, Buffy (as the companion introduces herself), and I are all squished together on a pristine white couch in a sitting room-type-thing that looks professionally decorated—though I do spot a large strip of dust running down the middle of the coffee table. I hear hoofsteps, and then the scrawny green unicorn colt that answered the door reappears in the room.

"Pixel says you can follow me," he instructs, adjusting his blue-framed glasses. He waits as we untangle our limbs and get to our hooves, then leads us through a cramped hallway, down a rickety flight of stairs, and into a dimly-lit basement corridor.

Buffy trots beside the colt as he leads us through the passage. "So what's your name?" she asks.

"Codex," he replies, straightening his glasses again.

"Cool. Mine's Buffy. Are you Pixel's...brother?"

"I know your name," he says. "And I'm Pixel's intern, not her brother."

Buffy lets out a low whistle. She opens her mouth to say something else, but Codex has stopped before a set of steel doors. He types something into the panel embedded in the wall, then stands back as the doors slide open. On the other side is a long room filled with ominously-flickering machines.

"Pixel's in there," Codex says solemnly. He stands there expectantly, then gives Buffy a push when none of us budge. "Go on!"

With a gulp, I step into the room. Between the dim lighting and the randomly-beeping, clunky crystal machinery that stretches from floor to ceiling, this place is sending off heavy Creepy Supervillain Lair vibes. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I wonder how difficult it is to get your hooves on a royal seal—or if maybe the three of us are the targets of an assassination plot.

I can't think of what I'd have done to be important enough for the Princesses to order my death, though. Viola kinda looks like she could be an enemy spy for...uh...the changelings, maybe?

I dunno. Secret undercover mission is also looking pretty plausible at this point.

None of the machines explode spontaneously (which is a shame, because it would have looked amazing in this lighting), and we find Pixel Wavelength in a brightly-lit laboratory at the end of the room.

She turns around as the door slides open, wings flared, and the first thing I think is wow, that's some really blue hair.

My second thought includes the realization that Pixel Wavelength is apparently an alicorn.

A slender horn glimmers upon her forehead, nearly invisible in the brightness of the lab. I can't quite focus my eyes on it, so I look instead at her face, which is beaming at us.

I tentatively break the smiley silence. "Uh...hi?"

"Oh, hello!" she breathes, and then she practically dances across the room to scoop all three of us into a hug. "I'm so glad you all came!"

I'm so glad you're not an evil mastermind. "Me too," I squeak.

Pixel releases us, then does a little jog. "Ooh, there's so much to talk about, but we're already pressed for time as it is. I hope you don't mind terribly if we just jump right into things? We can have proper introductions in a bit." She turns around, waving for us to follow her.

I sidle up to Viola as we trot past tables overflowing with wires and crystals. "Were you aware of a Pixel Princess existing?" I mutter out of the corner of my mouth. "'Cause I sure haven't seen her on Partying with the Princesses."

"It makes no sense," she mumbles back, frowning. "There's never been any mention of a fifth alicorn anywhere—one would think that a respectable channel such as the Pony News Network would have reported on a coronation."

"Maybe she ascended yesterday?" I offer. Pixel leads us through another machinery-filled room.

"Alicorn ascensions don't simply happen," Viola hisses. "It requires a massive amount of magic and an extremely specific set of circumstances in order for the ascension spell to correctly operate—"

I stare at her. "Where'd you learn so much about alicorn magic?"

She sniffs. "Some ponies like to spend their leisure time watching something other than that worthless drivel you call reality TV."

"Hey! I watch educational stuff, too!" I protest. "I've seen every episode of Equestria: the Story of Us! I just have a lot of different interests."

Buffy's been trotting at Pixel's side, chattering away, but at the mention of the TV show, she looks back at us. "You watch Equestria, too?" she gushes. "I love that show!"

"It's so good!" I squeal.

"The storytelling!"

"The cinematography!"

She sighs dreamily. "It's one of my favorites."

Before I can ask her if she's seen the episode on the Solar-Lunar War, Pixel Wavelength leads us into the largest room I've ever been in.

It's vaguely circular, with jagged crystalline walls that stretch hundreds of meters above my head to disappear into the shadows that serve as a ceiling. I spot a few gaping holes that vaguely resemble cave openings. There's a cool breeze drifting down, so I guess they must be for ventilation, which makes sense when I take a look at the massive amount of technology in the room.

Machines line every inch of wall space, crammed and stacked together in a small city of angry beeping and flashing lights. I don't know very much about computers—since arcanotronics are powered by unicorn magic, and I am a particularly magnificent earth pony—but I know that normal computers aren't nearly this fancy. Whatever this thing does, it's big.

Ooh, what if it's some superpowered weapon of mass destruction?

I think I've actually watched a movie like that, now that I think about it.

Pixel comes to a halt in the middle of the chamber, where a ring of chairs surrounds a massive hunk of crystal. It pulses rhythmically with a soft blue light.

"Nova?" she calls.

A beige unicorn stallion strides out from behind a gently-humming machine. "I'm here," he says, blowing a strand of tangerine-colored mane out of his eyes. Nodding to the computer behind him, he adds. "Everything's booted and ready to go."

"Fantastic," Pixel beams. "Everypony, this is Nova Blast."

"Hey," he grins.

"We've been working on this project together for quite a while. But I'm getting ahead of myself." She giggles. "As your invitations stated, I have an offer for each of you. For a job."

"Count me in!" Buffy cheers, throwing her hooves in the air. "I don't even care what it is! Though...ah...I guess it would be a good idea to ask," she says with a sheepish laugh.

Pixel smiles as she moves to a terminal jutting out from the wall. With a flicker of her horn, she turns the screen on and brings up pictures of everypony in attendance. I recognize my old student ID from the Manehattan College of Art and Design. Buffy's picture also looks like a student ID, and Viola's appears to be from a newspaper article.

"Each of you has been carefully selected by my intern according to very strict requirements," Pixel continues. "The project Nova and I have been working on has incredible potential, and we need to be absolutely certain that we find the right ponies to assist in its execution. That being said—" She magicks a sheaf of papers into existence. "We need to be sure that you are the ponies we need, so we'll evaluate your skills, abilities, and temperaments before we delve into the specifics."

Pixel levitates twenty pages of cramped typewriting to each of us. I skim through the first paragraph as she talks about the importance of personality compatibility in business relationships.

I, Viridian Meadows, do hereby knowingly give my consent to participate in the FRIENDS Program (patent pending) on the date specified below. I therefore waive and release Wavelength Corporations (hereinafter the "Released Party") from any and all liability to any emotional, psychological, or physical injury I may sustain while mentally locked in the FRIENDS arcane matrix. I understand that magical-cognitive connections are a relatively new area of study, but identified potential risks include allergic reactions, anxiety, aphasia, benign positional vertigo—

"Um, yeah. I hate to interrupt," I interrupt, glancing at the never-ending list of side effects. "But what exactly is this FRIENDS thingy that I'm agreeing to?"

"FRIENDS is Equestria's First Realistic Inter-Equine Neural Doomsday Simulator," Pixel recites proudly.

"Huh?" Buffy echoes my thoughts.

"It's basically a virtual reality," Nova Blast explains, trotting up to the ring of chairs. He taps a headrest, which has an upside-down, crystal-studded colander attached to it. "This bad boy's specially calibrated to engage with your innate earth pony magic, and from that connection it's able to...well, I don't want to say 'hijack your conscious,'" he chuckles sheepishly. "But that's exactly what it does. We're able to magically stimulate the same parts of your brain that are involved with perception, allowing you to fully experience pre-scripted scenarios with unmatched clarity."

"It's like lucid dreaming," Pixel adds hastily, with a glance at my still-dumbfounded expression.

"Could you expound upon the 'Doomsday' aspect of the program, please?" Viola asks, looking up from the waiver.

"There are currently sixteen virtual reality scenarios," Pixel says primly. "Three of these—including the one we'll be running today—are location-based, everyday events such as going out to lunch, or visiting an art gallery. Today, you'll be enjoying a nature hike together." She turns to the terminal and begins typing away. "'Doomsday' refers to the various apocalyptic scenarios we have installed—since friendships are often formed over common life experiences such as invasions, the return of legendary enemies, and horrendous fashion trends."

Ohmigosh it's like an action movie in your head.

Part of me is screaming that this is going to be the best thing to ever happen to me so hurry up and sign the waiver, but I'm still a bit hesitant. This just sounds so complicated; what if something goes wrong and it fries my brain out and then I can't make movies because I'm a Viridian-shaped vegetable?

Heh. Verigitable.

Nah, that sounds like a combination of veritable and didgeridoo, and I'm not actually sure what either of those are.

"Viridian, come on!" Buffy's voice breaks me out of my reverie. She's already seated in one of the colander-chairs, waving her signed paperwork at Pixel. The alicorn accepts it with a satisfied smile.

Who am I kidding, this is gonna be amazing.

I bite the pen Nova Blast offers me, flip to the last page, and scrawl my name on the signature line. "Done," I announce, before trotting to the chair next to Buffy. Slipping my saddlebags off, I clamber into the cushioned seat.

The crystal-studded colander conceals most of my vision, so I lean down to see Viola frowning at her waiver.

"Frankly, I'm not assured that the risks are worth the potential promise of a job." She points at a page. "Were you aware that 'temporary death' is listed as a probable side effect?"

"For doomsday scenarios, yes," Pixel says smoothly. "As for your safety, Nova Blast will be participating in the simulation as well. I will be supervising the program to observe your interactions. While I can't tell you much about the duties you'd be performing—" She pulls out a quill and scribbles something on the back of Viola's waiver. "I can tell you that you'll be more than compensated for your time, should you choose to accept my offer." She shows Viola the writing.

Viola doesn't immediately say anything, but her eyebrows shoot up to her hairline. Eventually, she nods. "That sounds more than acceptable," she says. "But only if you enter the simulation with us."

Pixel hesitates. "I don't really—"

"Aw, Pix, it's just a nature hike," Nova Blast says, grinning. "It's not like we're fighting some epic battle for the future of ponykind. It'll be pleasant. Besides, it'll be easier for you to observe everypony if you're with us."

After some cajoling from the rest of us, Pixel Wavelength caves in and agrees. Viola signs her waiver with a smile and a flourish.

The next ten minutes bustle with activity as the alicorn flits around, punching buttons and checking wires and eventually being accused of "fussing" by Nova, who slides into his chair with an easy smile. Finally, Pixel turns to the massive crystal surrounded by our chairs. It begins to hum as soon as her magic touches it; the pulsing blue light becomes a steady glow as the entire room powers up.

The crystals in the colander begin to glitter with traces of energy. I watch as Pixel selects "Scene 1" from the options that appear upon the crystal-chunk, then lean back in my seat, squeezing my eyes shut. It almost sounds like somepony's trying to say something, but I can't hear them over the noise.

I feel a slight pressure building up in my head, and then the world flashes white.

When I open my eyes, several things are going on.

First, I am standing between a mountain and a maze. The solid wall of stone at my back makes it absolutely clear that my destination lies somewhere within the twisted hedges that glitter with an otherworldly light. The grass beneath my hooves feels solid enough, and biting my tongue produces a sharp throb of pain, so I kind of wonder if maybe FRIENDS just didn't teleport us all to some remote part of Equestria.

A few steps away, Buffy stares at her hooves with the same intensity with which Viola looks at the sky. Following Viola's lavender gaze immediately assures me that we aren't in Equestria—the heavens are a rumbling, roiling mess of orange and crimson.

Is this an apocalyptic nature hike, then?

Pixel furrows her brow. "This isn't Weekend Nature Retreat."

"I tried to tell you, scene one is Advanced BFF," Nova Blast replies, rubbing his temple.

"What?" she yelps. "That should've been scene sixteen! We aren't ready for Badass Friend Fighting! Why wasn't the hike scene one?"

Nova groans. "You had everything listed randomly when I assigned numbers to them, so I alphabetized them for convenience. I told you this."

"They weren't listed randomly," Pixel protests. "They were in reverse-alphabetical order, like they should be."

The sky rumbles again, but this time, the noise doesn't fade.

"Pixel, reverse-alphabetical order isn't a valid organization scheme."

"You would have a very different opinion on that matter if your last name started with a 'W,'" she informs him. "Alphabetical order is a passive-aggressive form of tyranny."

The ground is beginning to shake.

"Hey!" I shout, stumbling over to the two. Standing proves too difficult, so I sit down, scooting myself across the ground. "Hey, it's great that you're sharing your beliefs and stuff, but could you maybe focus on what you remember about this whole apocalypse schtick? That'd be appreciated."

Pixel looks up at the sky as though seeing it for the first time. Her eyes widen as she takes in the mountain shaking behind us. "Into the maze," she whispers, then turns around, shouting, "Into the maze!"

Scrambling to my hooves, I do my best to gallop for the hedges. The ground feels like it's buckling and rolling, though, so I wind up half-hopping, half-flying into the bushes. The mossy floor of the maze is only vibrating slightly, so running across it isn't too difficult. It's actually kind of thrilling—though my steady heartbeat and even breathing indicate none of my excitement.

I add 'being able to gallop for more than fifteen seconds' to the list of things I like about virtual adventures.

Nova and Pixel fill us in on the plan as we run. Or at least, they try to: the alicorn's just barely told us that Advanced BFF is designed for groups of ponies with pre-formed friendships when a plant smacks me in the head.

A giant leaf plasters itself to my face, and I immediately trip and fall. No matter how I pry at it, the plant remains put, blocking my vision. From the angry yelping around me, I gather that everypony else is in a similar situation.

"Everypony!" Pixel calls. "Calm down! We need to get through this so we can find the control panel and cancel the simulation. Everything will be fine." A waver in her voice betrays her reassurance as fake, but she quickly stifles it. More confidently, she asks, "Can anyone see?"

"I can!" Buffy chirps somewhere to my left. "Lemme just help Viola to her hooves—no, Vi, you need to turn, like, half a step to your right no not that far!"

There's the unmistakeable sound of foliage being abused, and sheesh, what I wouldn't give to have a camera right now.

"Well now," Nova's voice says from behind me. "This is unfortunate. Shouldn't be too much of a problem, though."

"Are you even trying to get these things off?" I ask, clawing at the leaf again. Thankfully, it doesn't extend all the way down my muzzle, and my breathing isn't affected. Though I guess that's another thing I don't have to worry about.

Point two for virtual reality.

"BFF isn't actually a fighting simulator," Nova grunts. "It's a problem generator. Instead of actions and reactions, it's focused on problems and solutions. Our current issue—"

"Is that most of us are blind, yeah," I finish for him.

Buffy giggles. "I guess I'm your solution, then! Pixel, your tail's caught on a—whoops, there you go. Is there any special way to do this?"

"Not particularly," Pixel sighs. "We're already committed to a trial by fire; just lead us through the best you can.

"Mmkay," Buffy's voice says from behind me. I feel a tugging on my tail, and then she's pulling me to my hooves and herding me over to stand beside something prickly. A swish of a jasmine-scented tail informs me that I'm standing behind Viola.

"Alrighty. Pixel, you go after Nova—perfect." Her hoofsteps trot past me; a bouncing curl fwaps me in the ear gently as she passes. "Okay, everypony. I've gotcha in a line, so this shouldn't be too hard. Just follow my lead"

"Please use common sense when choosing directions," Viola requests. There's a swish of manes as everypony nods vigorously, myself included.

"You can trust me!" Buffy chirps "Okay, let's go. ONWARD!"

I take a step forward and nearly trip over Viola's hooves. I mutter apologies and make my next step smaller, but then somepony that I guess is Nova bumps into me.

"Apologies," he chuckles.

We take about thirty more steps, creeping along like a drunken caterpillar, before we reach a fork.

"Sooo, we're gonna take a soft right—no, Viridian, that's a hard right, and you're not even at the entrance."

I spit out a mouthful of shrubbery.

"Okay, I'm going to tell each of you to turn, so just listen for your name. Viola, turn!"

"Turning," she reports.

"Keep going, keep going, okay; Viridian, turn!"

I angle my steps a bit to the right, and though I cut it close enough to scrape against the hedge, I manage to clear the corner. I celebrate my victory by barreling straight into Viola.

"Oof," she complains.

"My bad." I carefully disentangle myself from her silky tail. Wow, what sort of shampooing regimen does this mare follow? Or is it just the virtual reality? Hmmm.

Before I can ask her if she uses alicorn tears as conditioner, Buffy's voice returns, accompanied by two more sets of hoofsteps.

"So, that wasn't too...bad..." her chipper tone falters. "Pixel, is this place supposed to randomly grow pits of lava? 'Cause I swear, those weren't there five minutes ago."

Pixel ohs in understanding. "This is the communication challenge," she says excitedly. "The maze is just going to keep throwing obstacles at us until we reach the end."

Nova Blast coughs. "I should probably add that the end of the maze doesn't have a specified position. This only ends when you're communicating well enough to move through the obstacles at a relatively quick speed."

The ground is beginning to shake again.

"But the whole thing is timed, so that should help motivate us," Pixel says.

"Then what are we waiting for?" Buffy shrieks. "LET'S GO!"

Her hoofsteps take off. I wait for Viola's more subdued steps to move out, before starting to walk, myself. Thankfully, the mossy ground gives way to stone, and I'm able to match my pace to Buffy's brisk trot. The distance between everypony shrinks, which is good; I'm beginning to wonder if the mountain is crumbling behind us, because sheesh is it getting loud.

It starts off as a slow rumble, but the noise continues to increase in volume, until I can feel it vibrating up through the ground.

Nova wasn't kidding when he said 'unmatched clarity,' I think as we run. Surround sound has nothing on this.

Point three for virtual reality.

"Jump!" Viola screams, barely audible over the racket that our impending doom is making.

In the span of less than a second, I realize that Buffy must have given the order, I didn't hear her, and if I couldn't hear, Nova and Pixel are definitely gonna charge straight into a lava pit.

So I jump as far as I can, hollering "JUMP, NOVA!" over my shoulder as I do.

It works. It actually works. I feel the heat of the lava on my underbelly as I sail through the air like a gazelle in a nature documentary, and then my hooves touch down on blessedly cool, reassuringly solid stone. There's no time to celebrate, though, because Viola's yelling for me to jump again. I send the message down the chain, throwing myself into the air.

We jump twice more and then round a corner, Viola's voice becoming less panicked and more confident with every successful hurdle we pass. We jump again. And then it's jump-hop-jump, turn and slide; dive-and-roll—we're still alive!

Jump again and HARD TURN RIGHT!; slip, slide, slow, the end's in sight!

Or at least, Viola insists that Buffy says it is.

We exit the maze with a final, triumphant "LEAP," soaring through open air and touching down on something soft and sandy. The ground feels pleasantly warm against my muzzle, which almost makes up for the humiliation of landing on my face.

Sitting up, the troublesome leaf obscuring my vision falls to the sand, revealing a glittering black ocean stretching out before us. Buffy and Viola haven't seemed to notice it; the former is throwing sand at the latter, who sputters indignantly but otherwise doesn't seem to mind.

I stand up and wobble across the beach to Pixel. "So, what's this?" I ask.

She gulps. "It's the Sea of Negativity."

"Oh." I stare at the shadowed, churning depths. "I can't swim."

"Don't have to," Nova Blast calls, waving us over to a silver boat. "We can sail across it on the Friendship."

I snigger appreciatively.

It takes some pushing, shoving, and a bunch of coordination that we don't have, but eventually, everypony's piled into the glorified canoe. It's a bit cramped—I think Buffy's buried somewhere in Pixel's mane—but we more or less fit.

The silver boat slides gently through the water, untouched by the violent current that hisses around us. The slapping of the waves against the prow almost sounds like voices. I lean closer to the water.

"Nice headband, dork," the sea says. I frown.

"Hey Pixel," I call. "When you said 'Sea of Negativity,' didja mean that the ocean is actually—"

I don't get to finish my sentence, because a massive wave chooses that moment to crash against the side of the boat, nearly toppling us.

"'Sup, losers?" it seems to cackle. "Having a support meeting for lame-flank loners with no friends?"

Buffy scowls, shaking an angry hoof at the impertinent water. "I'll have you know that I have tons of friends!" she shouts. "I've known Viola here since we met on the train in Canterlot! So there!"

"Oh, forgive me," the waves respond sarcastically. "I didn't realize you were so tight with the concert violinist who hasn't deigned to share a stage in three years. Did you know she got booted from her last orchestra because nopony could stand playing with her?"

Viola's eyes darken, as do the skies. The burning crimson fades into a muted burgundy that flickers like a dying ember.

"Ignore it, Viola," Pixel says. The ocean turns on her, sending a splash of inky water into the boat. It splatters across her pristine coat.

"Princess of the Internet, pah!" it hisses. "You think you're leading Equestria into an era of connectedness and prosperity, but your greatest creation is only going to bring isolation and depra—"

The water is cut off abruptly as Nova smacks it with an oar. "Shame on you," he scolds.

I look down. Sure enough, there's three more oars beneath my rear. I pass them out, then set about teaching the Sea of Negativity some basic manners.

"Perhaps we should attempt to get out of this mess," Viola says, flinching as a particularly good whack from Buffy splashes dirty water onto her tail. "Oars are meant for paddling, after all."

I shrug and oblige, using the oar to push the boat along. Out of the corner of my eyes, I can see the others doing the same, though I notice we're one paddle short. Devoid of a oar, Viola carefully wriggles to the back of the Friendship and braces herself against the stern, observing us with a frown.

"We're not going anywhere with you lot performing like this," she states.

"What?" I protest, though it sounds more like "Mmmphh," because there is an oar in my mouth that I am dutifully rowing with.

"Everypony stop," she calls. "Stop for a moment!"

"Looooooosers," the sea jeers.

Viola ignores it. "You need to coordinate your movements. This'd be easier if I had an instrument of some sort—"

"Careful what you wish for," the water cackles, spitting out a gunk-covered violin. It whacks Viola in her virtual head, but she manages to catch it before it tumbles to the floor of the canoe. Pixel's horn glows with her blue-green shimmer, and she summons what I think is called a bow.

I know even less about instruments than I do computers.

Viola wipes the strings off with her hoof, then bites down on her stick thing and plays an experimental note. The instrument whines in protest.

"Oh dear. That won't do at all."

She gently scrubs at the violin a bit more, then tests it again. Satisfied, she spits the bow out and nods to us.

"I'm going to play very slowly, and it's your job to coordinate your strokes with the notes," she says. "Now, face me and assume the ready position."

As she nestles into the canoe's stern, violin in hoof, I twist around to face the shoreline. The others do the same. Our paddles rest against the surface of the water, awaiting Viola's signal.

She draws the bow across the strings slowly, and I pull on my oar as hard as I can. The boat slides forward. She then plays a higher note, just as slowly, and we move our paddles back to their original position.

It works like a charm—Viola's playing keeps us synchronized, and we're soon gliding across the sea at a pretty respectable rate. She increases the tempo of her playing gradually, and nopony falls behind as our rowing picks up the pace as well. She really gets into it, even throwing in an extra note or two as we go.

Push, pull, push.

Faster and faster we row, moving in perfect harmony, manes whipping in our faces like flags in the wind. Viola looks half-mad, immersed as she is in her playing. Eyes closed, violet mane billowing behind her, she all but saws at the strings, forcing what sounds like a revamped version of the Berry Trotter main theme out of the soiled violin.

I can't hear the Sea of Negativity anymore; my attention is consumed with the commands of pull, push, pull echoing within the music.

Well, almost all of my attention—I still have room to think about how spectacular this would look from a panoramic scenery shot.

Push, pull, push.

I wonder if we could go faster.

Pull, push, pull.

The others seem to agree with me.

Push pull push

We're flying over the dark waters, grinning like maniacs.

PullPushPullPush

I only wish my virtual heart was racing—then I'd really feel alive.

PushPullCRASH

The Friendship's keel strikes something unforgiving and comes to an abrupt halt, sending everypony flying through the air. We land with an oar-shattering crunch on a rocky shoreline. It hurts.

Minus one for virtual reality.

A number of moans, groans, and general complaints later, we're stumbling through the dense underbrush of an eerily-silent forest. Twisted trunks and unmoving foliage watch our passage.

"Did you design this place to be dark on purpose?" I ask Nova, squinting at the ground to avoid tripping on any roots. "Because this is kinda ridiculous."

Nova frowns. "Dark? We haven't even reached the Plains of Eternal Agony."

"Not dark as in grim," I correct. "Dark as in dark. I can barely see."

As if to prove my point, Buffy trips and goes tumbling down with a wail.

"Moody lighting wasn't part of the original vision for Advanced BFF, no," Nova says as we pick our way over to Buffy. "But I have a friend in Fillydelphia who did the bulk of the worldbuilding. He really put a lot of effort into turning my ideas into fully-fleshed challenges that would be fun to play, so it's possible that it was added for effect."

I'm about to reach out for Buffy's flailing hooves, when a firefly bumbles through the air and lands on my outstretched foreleg.

I can't help it. I squeal. It flashes its little insect butt at me happily.

"Oh, you are precious!" I coo. Lifting my foreleg, I call out to the others, "Hey everypony! I found a solution for our light problem!"

Nova snorts, Viola rolls her eyes, and then the firefly's butt bursts into flame. I yelp and shake the burning bug off. It hovers in the air innocently.

"Torchbug," Pixel observes. She sighs when fifteen more drift from the woods and ignite to form a ring of fire around us. "Wordplay's always had a flair for the dramatic."

We back up slowly as the torchbugs close in on us. Buffy makes the mistake of allowing one of the things to get too close to her; the crackle and pungent odor of sizzling hair fills the air soon after. It smells surprisingly accurate; I wonder idly if Pixel's ever burned her hair off while working with her arcanotronics.

The ring of flaming bugs stops shrinking, and instead begins to move deeper into the forest, pushing us along in a makeshift herd. After three minutes of nimble root-avoidance, we stumble into a dirt clearing. The torchbugs break from their formation and move to line the area, illuminating our surroundings.

Before us lie four paths, each leading off into the canopy of trees. Blocking each path are butterflies the size of my eyeballs, lazily flapping their wings as they lounge in the middle of their respective trails.

"Ooh!" Buffy exclaims, clapping her hooves. "It's a riddle!"

Pixel, Nova, and Viola mhmm in agreement. The alicorn leans down to examine the nearest moth.

"One of these paths will take us to the control panel," she muses. Straightening up, she declares, "We'll need to be methodical about this, since these butterflies are obviously a clue."

"They are," Nova confirms. I turn to him.

"If you designed this, shouldn't you know which path leads to the end?"

He shakes his head. "Codex did a lot of work on this, too, and like I mentioned earlier—Advanced BFF really wound up being Wordplay's baby, story-wise. He wrote out hundreds and hundreds of challenges for the FRIENDS engine to select from, just for this scenario. There's no way I could remember them all." He points a hoof at the trail on the far left. "Though I am pretty sure that path leads to the Plains of Eternal Agony."

Sure enough, a sound that suspiciously resembles screaming echoes faintly down the trail. The butterfly sitting on that path has cheerful yellow-and-green wings. I lower my head to examine the others.

The next butterfly has crimson wings with white splotches that look a bit like bones. The third glows with Pixel's trademark blue shimmer, and the last one is an unassuming grey. I squint at it.

"We should follow this path," Buffy says, pointing at the one guarded by the skull butterfly. "Reverse psychololology, y'know? The scariest one is the most harmless?"

Pixel bites her lip. "The first butterfly could be attempting to lure in prey by being unassuming, but that doesn't mean all of them follow that logic," she reasons. "The skulls could be a way to attract ponies who love the promise of a fight, which means that path probably leads to a monster's lair, and we should avoid it at all costs."

Nova mutters something that sounds like it could be a disappointed "Drats," but there's something around the fourth butterfly's tiny head and I'm focusing.

"Shouldn't we follow the luminous butterfly?" Viola asks. "If the control panel holds arcanotechnology that glows in that particular shade of blue, wouldn't it make sense for the butterfly to camouflage itself to match its surroundings? At the very least, it would pick up some of the residual magic lingering in the air."

"Hey Pixel?" I call, frowning at the grey insect.

"Yes?"

"The control panel...is it—is it a building? Like an office?"

Pixel blinks. "It is a place, yes. Its apparent function changes with the envi—"

"Okay, then we need to go this way," I assert, straightening up. "'Cause if you look closely, this butterfly's wearing a tie like he's dressed up to go to work."

Everypony stares at me.

"What?" I say defensively. "Costuming is important."

The control panel is not actually an office building. It is a castle, perched on a giant hill that overlooks the massive field separating it from the forest.

The field itself is kind of weird. It's perfectly flat, with gray grass and evenly-spaced lines of dark grey flowers forming a large grid across the entire thing. Like the forest, it is perfectly still—no gentle breeze stirs the flower-squares. We approach it cautiously, edging up to the border with Nova in the lead.

He sniffs a flower and coughs. "Blasting powder," he mutters.

Silence. We stare at him.

"Sooo, the field's explosive," I finally say.

Nova shrugs, lifting a small rock with his magic. "Only one way to find out. We should probably move back, though."

I nearly trip over Buffy in my hurry to oblige.

Once everypony's a safe distance from the flower grid, Nova levitates the rock over a square and drops it. It lands with a soft thump and rolls a bit, but nothing blows up.

In the middle of the flower-bordered square, a brilliant green stem rises out of the dull grass, bearing a single golden petal. Nova frowns at it, then drops the rock on the square right beside it, which immediately grows a golden flower with two petals.

The next square Nova drops his rock onto explodes.

Minus another point for virtual reality.

When the ringing in my ears subsides, and the white splotch seared into my eyes has mostly faded, I see that the flower in the square beside the newly-formed crater has lost a petal, leaving it with only one.

"I get it, now," Nova grins, rubbing his hooves together. He steps past the grey flowers into the first square. "Everyone, follow me."

Nopony so much as budges. Nova waves us over wildly, "Guys, you won't get hurt, I promise! Look, look—each square shares corners with eight others, right? Only some of them are explosive!" he says excitedly. "The flower petals—they, they show you the number of explosive squares touching that square, so if this one is touching one, and that one was touching two, then that means—"

He continues to rave about numbers and probabilities and patterns as he drops the rock onto another square. A flower with three petals springs from the ground. I'm about to ask Pixel if she can just fly us over when Nova looks back at us, eyes pleading.

"You can trust me," he swears. "I know how to get through this." His eyes meet mine, but I look away, sweeping my gaze across the minefield. It's an awful lot of squares.

Pixel is the first one to step across the border, followed closely by Buffy and a wary-eyed Viola. Hesitantly, I join them.

Nova mutters to himself as he leads us through the grid, dropping his rock, doubling back to count petals, and occasionally clambering onto Pixel's back to get an better view of the squares he's cleared. Slowly but surely, we approach the halfway point, and then we're three-quarters of the way there.

A familiar rumble echoes across the plain from behind us. Looking at the forest grants me a view of a massive black shadow sweeping over the treetops, painting everything from ground to sky in an ominous hue that promises annihilation.

Nopony bothers saying we need to go faster; it's obvious to anypony with ears.

We're roughly ten squares away from the other edge. Then seven. Then four.

The black shadow is creeping across the minefield.

Three, now two.

Buffy is prancing in place, eyes glued to to Nova's erratically-jerking head. His lips are silently counting numbers, the rock poised above one final square.

Behind us, thunder heralds the arrival of an unwelcome companion.

"Surprise, buckers!" the Sea-of-Negativity-turned-thundercloud greets. "I missed laughing at your pathetic faces. It kind of made me think about how insecure I am BUUUUT anyway, say hail-lo to my little friends!"

I snort, but the smirk quickly falls from my face when the cloud unleashes an avalanche of icy pellets onto the edge of the field, setting off an explosive chain reaction. Square after square throws itself into the air in a fiery spurt of dirt and stone, rapidly consuming the grid in a haze of smoke.

"GOT IT!" Nova yells triumphantly, galloping through a square with a newly-sprouted, five-petaled flower. We follow eagerly, and then Pixel takes the lead as we charge up the hill. Our hooves strike a battle-rhythm upon the cobblestoned path, fierce and proud and only a tiny bit panicked.

The road winds around the hill, and in no time at all, we're at the edge of a massive drawbridge. Far below its wooden planks, a gently-rippling pool of light serves as a moat.

We make it halfway across the bridge before a pony scuttles into our path.

Its gait isn't the only deformed thing about it (though it's kinda weird that it crawled out from under the bridge). It has neither mane nor tail, and its cutie mark is nothing more than a dark smudge on a deathly pale hide. Rows and rows of wrinkles line its face, which is contorted in a twisted imitation of a grin.

"Allow me," Pixel says to us. Trotting up to the creature, she politely greets, "Hello, troll."

"Hi Princess," it sniggers.

"My friends and I are currently being chased by a spiteful weather system," she explains. "We would like to cross your bridge. Is there a toll?"

"For you? A toll? No way," it says, waving a pale hoof. "I just need the entry ticket my buddy gave you."

Pixel cocks her head. "Entry ticket? I'm sorry, we must've galloped right past your friend. We'll go find him now."

"Okay, you do that!" the troll giggles. "I'll be waiting right here."

Pixel trots back off the bridge, then returns a few minutes later.

"There isn't anypony there," she frowns. "Are you certain your friend is on duty?"

"Oh yeah, yeah!" it says seriously. "He should've been there. Well, if he's slacking off, I guess it's not fair to punish you." It winks at the alicorn, who beams at him. "I'll just need to see a copy of your Equestrian Inter-Network Passport. No biggie."

Pixel's face falls. "I don't have one of those," she admits.

Buffy starts forward. "Pixel, he's just being—"

The troll cuts her off. "You mean you didn't get your passport at the foot of the hill? We had a stand set up and everything!" It heaves an exaggerated sigh. "Look, Princess, I wanna help you, I really do. But rules are rules, and if we violate our bridge-crossing rules, what's next? Why, then there'll be nothing stopping us from breaking our gate-guarding rules, and our bread-baking rules, and then, next thing you know, the entire world's gone mad!"

Pixel looks horrified. "I'm so sorry," she stammers. "I'll just go get a passport from the stand."

At a particularly nasty glare from Buffy, the troll quickly shakes its head. Slapping a grin on its contorted face, it pulls a sheaf of papers out of nowhere. "Tell you what," it says. "The passport stand is probably already packed up for the day, but I'll let you in these here gates if you just fill out this form consenting to a background check. It might take anywhere from five to thirty business days to process your request, but I'll do my best to get you cleared in less than nine." It winks.

Viola is raising an eyebrow at the troll, and Nova is frowning, but Buffy is practically seething.

"Quit being mean," she scowls.

"Oh, Buffy, he's just doing his job," the Princess of Gullibility chides. "Look, we don't even need to fill out separate forms, this one will work for all of us." She glances at the troll. "Though, would it be possible for us to complete these from inside the city? We're in a bit of a mad dash for our lives."

Right on cue, lighting slices through the air less than a hundred meters away. "Loooooserrrrs," it hisses.

"Sorry, no can do," the troll shrugs.

Buffy stalks closer to it. "You're being difficult just to be difficult. Stop it."

The troll smirks. "Sorry, miss. Don't know what you mean. This here is standard—"

"I KNOW FOR A FACT THAT STANDARD TROLLIC BRIDGE-CROSSING PROCEDURES DON'T CALL FOR BACKGROUND CHECKS," she bellows. "SO STOP BEING DIFFICULT AND LET US BY."

"Yeah, I thought trolls ate ponies, not paperwork," I add.

The ugly smirk slips from the troll's face. "Now you've done it," it warns. Poking its head over the edge of the drawbridge, it lets out an ear-splitting screech. Immediately, the scampering of hooves on wood fills the air.

Twisted face after twisted face appears from underneath the bridge, grinning evilly. Licking their lips, the horde of trolls crawls onto the wooden boards and leers at us.

The original troll takes a menacing step toward me.

"We should be thanking you for reminding us it's lunch time," he drools. "But instead, I think we'll just eat you fir—"

The troll doesn't get to finish its sentence, because Buffy leaps into the air right as lightning strikes, forking down to connect with her outstretched hoof in a shower of molten skyfire. Buffy doesn't even flinch, and the lightning shapes itself into a massive, burning mallet that she slams down upon the troll's head.

"BANHAMMER," she screeches as it explodes into flickering specks of light. Whirling around with a wild glint in her eyes, she charges for the nearest troll. It, too, succumbs to the wrath of her weapon.

Eagerly embracing the role of kickflank action hero, I jump forward and punch a troll, sending it flying off the bridge. The light-water below apparently also has disintegrative powers; the deformed creature explodes into motes of light that drift serenely into the moat.

Heh.

Viola appears to have convinced the Seastorm of Negativity to cough her up another violin, because she's putting one to good use by clobbering everything near her into submission. Nova is making pew pew sounds as he jumps around, firing lasers out of his hooves, and Pixel is just kind of hovering off to the side, looking mildly concerned for our health. To her credit, she does levitate the trolls into the moat whenever they get too close to us.

"It's too much!" she yells.

"I'm actually doing pretty well," I shout back, knocking yet another troll off the bridge. He jerks around oddly as he falls.

"No," she hollers. "It's too much for FRIENDS's processor! We're lagging!"

Sure enough, the world is becoming increasingly disjointed. Buffy's banhammering continues on behind me, but instead of the constant slam slam slam of righteous banishment, the tempo of her smiting is jumping around erratically. I turn around and throw a punch at a troll that suddenly isn't there anymore, and then a different one appears out of nowhere and crashes into me.

"Just keep going!" Pixel orders. "It's picking up again!"

With a massive buck, I send the final snarling figure flying off the bridge. Buffy's banhammering resumes its normal pace.

I allow myself a brief moment of appreciation for my success. I'm not even trained in martial arts. I'm also not even winded.

Back to three points for virtual reality. Or is it only two?

An angry shriek draws my attention to where two of my friends are grappling with the last troll, which has wrapped its forelegs around Viola and is attempting to bite off Nova's horn. With a grunt of pain, Nova angles his head so that his horn points further into the trolls mouth, charges a spell, and fires a laser straight into the thing's brain.

"Pew," he whispers, eyes screwed shut.

The troll releases him, screeching, and Viola promptly slams her violin into the side of its head, smashing the instrument to pieces in the process. The creature's body doesn't even make it to the light-pool before exploding in a puff of glitter.

"Thanks," Nova grimaces, wiping troll slobber off his horn.

"No problem," Viola replies, tossing the splintered remains of her violin into the moat. "That was an impressive burst of magefire."

"Thanks," he murmurs, staring at her.

"Now kiss," I prompt.

I get only empty stares in reply.

Blushing, I say, "Y'know...if this were a movie...now would be when you kissed. Preferrably with something burning in the background, but I guess that minefield is still smoking, so if you wanted to stand over there—"

"Buffy, dear?" Viola calls.

"Yeah, Vi?"

"Would you be so kind as to hammer some tact into Viridian, here?"

"With pleasure!" she chirps, popping up a salute. Rearing back, she screams, "BANHAMMER!"

I couldn't hope for a more dramatic death scene in my wildest dreams. Pure white energy dances across the surface of the hammer, leaving a trail of burning embers in its wake as it falls through the air with the weight of a thousand juries. There is no time to escape, no time to run. There is only the impending tragedy of my virtual death. Closing my eyes, I turn my face skyward and strike a suitably noble pose.

The banhammer strikes.

Death is a loading screen.

I'm not really sure if that's a point or a penalty.

I float around in an indiscernible nothingness, limbless and unattached, while a glowing bar slowly inches across my mind's eye, though I don't think I actually have a mind at this point. My thoughts are kind of just drifting around.

After sitting stubbornly at fourteen percent for an indeterminable-but-probably-really-long time, the loading bar jumps to forty-seven percent, and then to ninety-eight, and then I'm opening my eyes to see Pixel Wavelength's face half an inch from my own.

I yelp, accidentally whack her in the face, and promptly fall off the table I've been laid out on.

"Fascinating," Pixel murmurs, rubbing her muzzle. "The resurrection spell works instantaneously." She turns to Nova. "Do you think that's a bit overpowered?"

He's too busy reenacting the drawbridge battle to answer.

"Did you see that jump?" he gushes. "It was just like Quick Trot's flying saddle leap—"

"In the third season of Equestrian Pony Warrior!" Buffy finishes for him, squealing.

Pixel shakes her head and trots over to the wall. I allow my gaze to follow her, then gasp at the sheer size of the control panel room.

We're standing on a metal balcony, suspended before the largest projector screen I've ever seen. It's at least five stories tall, and consumes the entire back wall of the room—which is shaped more like a silo than a castle, now that I look at it. Poking my head over the railing, I spy towers of flashing computers blinking from lower balconies.

Pixel herself is standing before a massive panel of buttons and switches, looking regal and pristine and absolutely at home in this echoey monstrosity of a room. I move to stand beside her.

"So, I don't want to accuse you of being a supervillain or anything," I say casually. "But this place is basically an evil lair. Do you have a side job?"

She chuckles, then softly says, "This is where I got my horn."

That's not very reassuring from a supervillain origin story perspective. I look at said horn. It's definitely lost the translucence it had outside of the doomsday simulator; It looks solid, though it still glitters whenever she turns her head.

"That's...neat," I say.

"I was standing right here," she murmurs, before snapping out of her musings. Shaking her head, she calls over to the others, "If everypony could come here, I believe it's time to make an offer or three."

When everyone's gathered around the panel, Pixel dims the lights. The screen before us flickers to life.

Wait, if we're in a computer-generated reality looking at computer-generated things, does that mean we're looking at real-life-generated stuff?

It apparently does, because Pixel pulls up an image of a small, unassuming crystal computer.

"This is my pet project," she explains. "While the FRIENDS virtual reality is something Nova and I have all but slaved over, this right here is what will change Equestria as we know it." Her voice trembles slightly with excitement.

"I won't bore you with the details," she continues. "But we've managed to create a self-powered central processing unit that runs off of rechargeable, replaceable gemstone batteries."

"So you won't need to be a unicorn to use a computer," Viola says, eyes widening.

Buffy cheers. "That's amazing! Can I get one? Because I'm pretty sure my roommate back in Baltimare is tired of me asking for her to power her desktop while I check my email."

Pixel nods. "Personal computers will come with the job."

"So what exactly is this job?" I ask. Buffy and Viola make various noises of consent.

"I want you all to become the faces of the technological revolution," Pixel states, fiddling with some controls. "I have a press conference scheduled in three hours, during which Nova and I will officially reveal these units as ready for production."

Our pictures from earlier reappear, edited to show everypony grouped around what I guess is Pixel's coat of arms. Or maybe it's her cutie mark; her wings are normally folded and I haven't exactly been looking for it.

I can't help but notice that we look a bit like we're in a movie poster.

"You won't just be spokesponies, though," Pixel continues. "I selected each of you specifically with your individual interests in mind, because with so many new ponies able to use computers, we'll be revamping Wavelength Networks. You will each be responsible for managing your own specialized offshoots of a main, overarching website." She smiles. "Movies, music, games, and more—all of it is organized and ready to go. I have contracts waiting for you outside of the simulator."

Our movie poster looks really cool.

"The Poniverse is waiting," Pixel Wavelength declares, drawing herself up to her full height. "So what do you say?"

Nopony speaks, at first. Tearing my gaze away from our poster, I break the silence without hesitation.

"Well, duh."

"So does anyone have final questions about anything before we go out and meet the press?" Pixel asks, gathering up our signed contracts.

I raise my hoof.

"Uh, yeah. This might be a bit off topic," I begin. "But I've been wondering...how exactly did you become an alicorn in the first place?"

She stares at me, which is a bit unfair. I know we were just discussing username policies, but she did say we could ask anything.

"I mean, are you an official, Celestia-approved alicorn Princess?" I amend hastily, fidgeting a bit under her gaze. "I just wanted to know how that worked. Like, if you have to apply for an ascension license or something. I'm really confused on what happens."

"Viridian, you can't just ask somepony how they became an alicorn," Viola mutters.

"It's fine," Pixel assures me, grinning crookedly. "Maybe I'll tell the story on the Weekend Nature Hike, the next time we use FRIENDS." She gestures for us to follow her out of the laboratory.

"It's not that I don't like Advanced Badass Friend Fighting," I hear her mutter to herself as we leave. "Adventure is just better in small doses. That's it. Small doses."

Thinking of all the potential movie plots bouncing around in my head, I have to disagree. But then I remember all of the non-action films that I haven't watched with my new friends, and I smile.

There's no way virtual reality adventures are as great as movie nights.