I Used to Make Chiptune Songs

I make chiptune music. Well, I used to. Inspired by my childhood love of the Atari, NES and Game Boy home systems, I began making dance music via a sequencing program called LSDJ (Little Sound DJ). Essentially, the program enables you to build instruments, write sequences of notes, string them together as chains and trigger them using the sound chip built into a Game Boy. Part of the appeal for me (apart from the amazingly retro sound) is working within limited parameters. You only have 8-bit sound to contend with, so building deep bass tones and unique synth textures can be quite challenging. Still, that’s the fun. Or, it was, before everything went to shit.

About a year ago, I lived with my little brother in a small 2-bedroom in a slightly downtown, bohemian art district of Cleveland, Ohio. We both worked in decent food service jobs while we made a go at creative ventures. Me a musician, him a screenwriter. Hoping to one day cash in and make art full time, we encouraged and balanced one another while we held down boring work to pay the bills.

One night, I was working on a track on my customized Game Boy (heavily boosted audio, a blue backlit screen, a dope black matte paint job, 1/4” out jack - very posh), when I noticed the Speech function in the program’s WAV channel. I normally used this channel to build my main synth sounds, but it had a unique element where you could make the program “speak.” You would build words sound by sound and trigger the program to speak. There were dozens of phonetic word pieces that you would string together to make words (“HH1” + “EL-“ + “OW-“ would make it say Hello, for example). It was clunky and very difficult to make the words understandable, so after a few hours of frustrated tinkering, I abandoned my attempts to utilize the function and went to bed.

I was off work the next day, so I woke up late. After coffee and toast, I decided I’d work on a track. I booted up my RGB and went to load one of the songs I was working on, when I noticed that it was gone. All my tracks were gone. Instead, there was a solitary track titled “One,” and nothing else. I’d had at least a dozen tracks in various stages of completion in this save bank, and I immediately freaked out. I turned the Game Boy on and off, took out the cartridge and blew into it (remember that old useless “hack”?), even tried reloading my tracks from my computer backup, and all attempts led to the same result. That one track. ”One” I shrugged, annoyed and loaded it.

The song only contained chains in the WAV section, which didn’t seem odd at first. I often began songs building a main synth sound in this part, but I had no recollection of this. I hit the Start button to trigger the music to play. After a lengthy silence, the Game Boy began speaking choppy, static words. At first, I couldn’t understand it. Too lo-fi. It sounded bathed in white noise. After a few listens though, it became clear.

Hello Steven how are you

My eyes widened in terror. The degraded quality of the voice only enhanced the creepy feeling that came over me. It was like a Speak-And-Spell, but even tinnier and more sharp. It sounded like a dying robot from a bygone era. I didn’t create this and I doubted my brother was capable of it, either. I had a hard enough time with this function of the program and I’d had years of experience with it by this point. Still, I needed to rule that out, so I went and found him.

“Hey Rich. Were you fucking with my Game Boy?” I asked him.

“What? No. You don’t have Tetris, so I’m super not interested,” he said, with a scoff.

I laughed. He often brought this up. “Yeah, yeah. But seriously, you didn’t mess with it? All of my songs are gone and there’s only this weird computer talking thing in here now.”

I played it for him, his reaction nearly identical to mine. “Weird. That’s kinda messed up,” Rich said. “Did you at least say ‘hello’ back? Maybe we wants to be friends,” he laughed.

I snorted. “Nah, I feel like that’s a floodgate one doesn’t need to open.” I played it again. “Hi Game Boy, I’m good. You?” We both laughed. I was starting to feel less afraid as Rich and I mocked it, but I wasn’t any closer to understanding how and why it happened.

I went back to my room and did a complete wipe of the Game Boy’s contents and refreshed the program with the most recent update. When I reloaded LSDJ onto the cartridge, it booted up normally. Although all my content was still missing, the weird voice track was gone, too. I was able to load my old tracks back into the cart from my backups, so I got back to work.

I spent nearly that whole day tracking, and by 10 p.m, I had completed a new, very cool song. It was more ominous and brooding than I usually wrote, but it had a very nice, sludge-like beat that I found hypnotic. I smoked a bong while I grooved to it, and the beat ultimately lulled me to sleep. This wasn’t uncommon, as the loops I would create often had a cyclical quality to them that would entrance me into a pacified state. More than once, I’d woken up in the middle of the night having listened to a loop for hours on my headphones and not realizing it.

That night though, I was plagued by horrific dreams. I only remember bits and pieces of them. I had a clear vision of a very old stove with the burners turned high and a man’s hand (my hand, from the POV) holding a small child’s hand over the burner. The child squirmed and tried to get away and I held it there as it reddened. In another part of it, I was looking out the window at my current street, but it was a much older version of it. The now paved street was cobblestoned and I saw people in dated clothes walking along it. I was throwing bloody bits of viscera down on them from a bucket. I could hear myself gleefully laughing as they ran and dodged the thick pieces of meat. They would plop onto the street audibly when they wouldn’t hit their target. Many other things came to me in my dreams, but it got very fragmented and I couldn’t retain the specifics.

I’m good thanks for asking

I’m good thanks for asking

I’m good thanks for ask-

I woke up hearing this phrase from my headphones. Confused, I looked at the Game Boy and the track I’d been working on was gone, replaced with another Speech loop. “Two,” It was called.

I’m good thanks for asking

It repeated it again and again. I pulled off the headphones and tossed the console away, the tinny robot voice echoing quietly from the speaker. “What the fuck,” I said aloud. Who the hell was doing this? How were they able to do it while I slept? The fucking thing was connected to me.

After I got over the shock and anger of losing hours of work, I sat at my computer and tried troubleshooting the problem. I went to several message boards looking for a similar problem, but none of my contemporaries had had issues like this. There were many tutorials and complaints and tips and things, but no one had experienced the thing writing tracks on its own. Thinking it best to not be viewed as a crackpot, I opted not to post a thread and subject myself to the relentless mocking of the anonymous legions of Internet personalities. Frustrated, I turned off the Game Boy and got ready for work.

That evening, I got home before Rich. I had texted him about my 2nd “message” from the Game Boy, and he was having a field day with it in our text thread.

Hey Steve how are you? How are you feeling? Can I get some new batteries in here? Why you no play Mario no more?LOL Luv GB

I chuckled at his commentary. When I walked into my room, I say my RGB sitting on the bed. I know I had left it in the floor where I tossed it earlier that day, so I was immediately unsettled. I was about to text Rich, accusing him of fucking with me again, but I remembered he was gone when I left that morning and still hadn’t returned from work.

I stared at it, a mix of terror and intrigue. Cautiously, I picked it up and turned it on. “Two” has been replaced by “Three.” Of course it had. Reluctantly, I hit Start and another voice message began:

I asked you a question Steve it’s not nice to not answer

I asked you a question Steve it’s not nice to not answer

I asked you a question Steve it’s not nice to not answer

I stared at it and listened to the loop. It sounded crunchier, as if whoever had created this had worked harder to add an emotional quality. It sounded annoyed. Mad.

I deleted the track and put the Game Boy on my desk. This was becoming too much. I decided I needed some time away from it, so I took the batteries out and went downstairs to watch SNL on Hulu. My bro got home about ten minutes later, and we spent the next few hours taking bong rips and watching TV. After the experiences I’d been having, it was an enjoyable temporary escape. We didn’t really talk about the Game Boy. I think Rich knew that it was a bit sore and some chill time was what we both needed. I appreciated that greatly.

When I went to bed that night, the Game Boy’s batteries were back in, and it was turned on. Another new voice track, “Four,” was already playing. A sinking feeling came over me, but my curiosity was piqued and I listened. It was muffled and unclear, so I picked up the headphones and put them on.

STEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEVE WHY DON’T YOU TALK TO MEEEEEEEEEE

STEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEVE WHY DON’T YOU TALK TO MEEEEEEEEEE

STEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEVE WHY DON’T YOU TALK TO MEEEEEEEEEE

The loop continued as I stared at the screen with wide, terrified eyes. The staccato rhythm of the loop was tangible. It reverberated in my filings and buzzed in my ears in an uncomfortable way. The 8-bit sound was already harsh to begin with, but the track had been heavily edited in the program. It was painful to listen to. The composer had added a number of in-program effects to give a piercing and insistent quality. As much as I hated it, I admired the ability of the creator. Whoever it was could elicit sounds from this thing in a way I never could. I tried to open up one of the chains that made up the loop, and the RGB powered off suddenly. I tried in vain to turn it back on a few times, but ultimately just took the batteries back out and got into bed. I was pretty tired, despite the unease I was feeling.

From the bed, I absently said “Sorry, Game Boy.” It was insane, but I felt compelled to respond to its many attempts at communication. I laughed aloud for a moment at my hysteria. That was when I noticed the dark spot in the upper corner of my wall where it met with the ceiling.

I stopped laughing and stared at it. Where the wall and ceiling met on the right side corner, an inky black circle sat. The lights were off, so the room was largely darkened already, but this point on the wall was noticeably darker. It looked like negative space; impenetrable by light. As I watched it from the bed, frozen in fear, it began to swirl slowly. I shook my head and rubbed my eyes comically, instantly feeling like a cartoon reacting to a shocking thing. Certain that my inebriation was to blame, I got up from the bed and went over to inspect it. All at once it absorbed into the wall and disappeared. I stared at the spot where it was and cautiously reached for it, fully expecting something to grab me. Nothing happened. I decided not to sleep in my room that night and went to pass out on the couch.

Despite the fear and confusion I was feeling, I eventually drifted off to sleep. Again though, my dreams tormented me. The burning hand, the tossed, bloody bits to the street again. This time, there were more images: Me looking down as a straight razor opened up my wrist; watching out the window of a moving train as a man is hanged; mincing human fingers and feeding them into a meat grinder. Many more horrible images, too. Some that I kind of remember and some that I don’t feel comfortable mentioning. Just a litany of very unpleasant stuff.

When I woke up with a start, I was pouring sweat and panting. The dreams had seemed so real. I looked at my wrist expecting it to be cut. I could still feel the sticky blood on my hands. I was either losing it or there was something much more sinister at work. I didn’t sleep any more that night and called off work for the next day.

I went upstairs to use the bathroom, and when I passed by my room, I heard the familiar buh-CHINNNNNGGG of the Game Boy powering up. I stopped in my tracks, knowing that I left the batteries out. Of course, being the sucker that I am, I went over and picked it up. I felt outside of myself, like a marionette being shifted and moved against his wishes.

“Five,” the track listed now. Another one. I sighed and hit Start.

That’s okay, STEEEEEVE. Look in the sink. Look in the sink. Look in the sink.

That’s okay, STEEEEEVE. Look in the sink. Look in the sink. Look in the sink.

That’s okay, STEEEEEVE. Look in the sink. Look in the sink. Look in the sink.

The loop had a gentler quality, apart from how it said my name. That part was louder and more harsh. It sounded reused from the previous voice message. I sighed and turned the RGB off.

I went to pee and afterwards washed my hands. The sink looked completely normal. A little scuzzy, like two 20-something men lived here, but nothing out of the ordinary. Again feeling like I wasn’t totally controlling my actions, I got on my knees and crouched to look underneath the sink. Where the drain pipe had a fitting connecting it to another section of pipe, I noticed a small red-brown stain. I touched it thinking it was rust, but when I pulled my finger away, it was dark red. Blood. I recoiled and knocked my head in the bottom of the sink.

“Fuck me,” I said aloud.

“Nah, I’m good,” Rich smirked, watching the scene from the doorway.

I jumped. “Asshole! I thought you were at work!” I rubbed my head. “Quit watching me piss, you perv.”

He laughed. “Oh I didn’t see any of that, just your fun, under-sink shenanigans. What’re you doing, by the way?”

“Oh you know, just investigating Game Boy messages. Just your standard crazy person shit,” I said, using the sink to stand back up.

“Dude, are you okay? I mean, I played along before, but I mean...you’re making those tracks, right? You do realize it’s you making those phrases?” He looked concerned.

“Uh, well..,” I stammered. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s just me. I’m just being crazy. Weird dreams last night.”

He squinted his eyes at me. “Okay,” he said, unsure. “Well, can you move your insane ass so I can shower before work? Some of us have shit to do today.”

I nodded, composing myself a bit and snapping out of it. “Yeah, sorry, dude. I took the day off, so I’m hella just in the way now.”

“No shit? Move dude, I gotta be at work in like 45,” Rich said, over it.

I rushed out of the room with an apologetic wave. Rich rolled his eyes and closed the door. I stood there in the hallway for a moment staring at the closed bathroom door before I went to my room and sat on the bed. I was still reeling from the experiences when the Game Boy turned itself back on.

the sink the sink the sink the sink

I could hear it from the headphones where I sat. I put my face in my hands and cried a little bit. My sanity felt like it was slipping through my fingers in real time. I was certain that Rich felt that. I didn’t know what to do, but I needed to inspect that sink further. “Okay okay,” I said aloud. The Game Boy turned itself off then.

Rich said bye on his way out, apologizing for being curt with me. Trying my best to appear okay, I assured him it was fine.

“Hey, I’ll bring some steaks home tonight. Grill out? Maybe watch Idiocracy?” He was trying to make up for it. I smiled.

“For sure, man. Sounds great. Have a good shift,” I said.

We hugged and he left. I went to our hallway closet and got out my toolbox. Thank god Dad got us these wrenches, I thought, as I got a large C-clamp and few smaller ones. I headed for the bathroom, determined.

After I shut off the water to the sink, I loosened the connecting piece and removed pipe easily. After dumping out the water and sludge that had collected there, I felt around on the inside. Nothing. I frowned and began to look in the piece that was still connected to the wall. Immediately, I saw something small that glinted brightly.

I reached in, and felt a small piece of metal. It was wrapped in a mass of slimy, wet hair, but a slight pull loosed it. I extracted the item with a gag, the hair clearly not belonging to me or Rich. Despite this, I began pulling it off, revealing a lovely diamond ring.

I rinsed it off under the tub faucet and dried it with toilet paper. It was unlike any ring I’d ever seen. The stone was enormous. Wrapped in what looked like emeralds, it was shaped almost like a star, with six clear points. Between each of the tines were small red rubies that gave the image depth and dimensionality. When it caught the sun shining through the window, it sparkled magnificently. I was instantly hypnotized by it.

I went back to my room and laid on my bed. I was fascinated by the ring. Absently, I put it on my ring finger on my left hand. I don’t know why I did it, but instantly I felt my body go limp. I couldn’t move at all.

Immediately, I heard:

buh-CHIINNNGGG

The Game Boy powered up on my desk. My body was frozen. I laid on the bed and stared at it, unable to do anything.

“What..wh-..what do you want..” I said, struggling against the paralysis.

The black spot appeared in the corner again. This time, it was late morning and the shape was unmistakable. Instantly, it began swirling and growing in large arcs. I watched petrified at it grew double its size in seconds, swirling out toward me on the ceiling. It looked like a pinwheel in slow motion; a golden, Fibonacci spiral cascading toward me in pulses. I laid there and watched, helpless as it snaked across the beige ceiling in my direction.

six six six six six six six six six, the Game Boy began to say as the spiral reached the area of the ceiling directly over me.

I was shaking. Stiff and open-mouthed, I watched powerless as the black swirl came off the ceiling and drooped towards the floor. It collected in a pile and rose next to me on her bed. Goosebumps formed on my arms and legs and the room went icy cold.

Before long, the spirals had formed into the vague shape of a man. He was entirely black. Opaque and menacing. At once, two bright white eyes with red irises opened and glared at me from the black void. The Game Boy began to speak.

You should not have put on the ring. STEEEEEEVEEEEE.”

My shaking was becoming more animated as new depths of fear materialized within me. I felt my hands slapping against the bed, quivering violently.

The figure began to bend toward me at a horrifically slow rate, the eyes locked with mine.

You should not have put on the ring. STEEEEEEVEEEEE.”

You should not have put on the ring. STEEEEEEVEEEEE.”

It repeated and sped up, the words starting to run together and increase in volume as they did.

YOUSHOUDNOTHAVEPUTRINGONSTEEEEEVEEEEE

My hands were shaking even faster as my heart thudded audibly in my ears. I felt the ring begin to slip off and I tried to focus my attention on that.

The black figure was nearly face to face with me now, the shape widening and expanding as it loomed closer. I frantically shook my hand, the ring hooked around my nail. One more wrist flick, and it went flying across the room, clinking on the window.

All at once, the black figure disappeared and the Game Boy shut off, cutting the audio mid-phrase. I panted and swiveled my neck wildly, looking around the room. In that instant, I realized I could move again. Still shaking, I stormed over to the desk and picked up my Game Boy. Without hesitation, I opened the window and threw it down to the street 3 flight below. It smashed into thousands of tiny pieces - plastic, fiberglass and electronics flying everywhere. I looked at the rubble for a few moments as I collected myself, certain that it would pull back together and reassemble itself though some divine power. Thankfully, it didn’t.

I got dressed and left immediately, never to return. I went to Rich’s job and asked him to take a break so I could tell him we were moving.

“Uh, what, dude? Are you serious?” Rich said to me, annoyed.

“Man, I will never set foot in that apartment again,” I said, looking wild-eyed.

“Okay, Steve, chill out. Are you sure we need-“

A scream came from the kitchen then. We rushed back to see Rich’s coworker thrashing around in pain, blood splattered across the wall. His hand was stuck in the meat grinder Rich had just been working on. I left the kitchen and called 9-1-1 as many other cooks crowded around the guy to try and help.

I later learned that Rich’s boss had asked someone else to take over when I pulled Rich away and that the machine had begun pulling meat through on its own. Some motor had malfunctioned and the poor guy working on it didn’t have time to react before his right hand was pulled in. He lost all on the fingers on that hand. As much as I felt awful, I was so glad that it didn’t happen to Rich.

We hired movers to pack up our stuff and got a hotel while we looked for a new place, despite Rich’s disapproval. I was emotionally scarred. Rich was very good about being there for me, but I don’t think he believed me. He had heard the voice messages at the beginning, sure, but he was still convinced I was behind it all. Still, he was a good brother and went along with the move. He tried a few times to go back to our place to get some things, but I wouldn’t let him.

I haven’t picked up a Game Boy since. It’s kind of a drag, as I was getting pretty good at making songs on it. Still, they scare me now. I suppose one day I may try again, but my therapist says that’s probably not a good idea.

Submitted September 15, 2019 at 09:58PM by KP_Hoffman_Writes https://ift.tt/2Amyjdi