Numbers constantly flashed and changed above everyone's head.
The only outlier was contestant 5. The number above his head was drastically lower compared to everybody else.
Was it out of pity or some other unknown reason?
Aster noticed it immediately. Amidst the voting frenzy, only his was the one that was left untouched. It was quite strange as he had just suffered a punishment, and the audience immediately ignored him.
But unbeknownst to Aster, while he was focused on contestant 5's lack of votes, he had climbed the highest.
Was it because the audience noticed he wasn't focused, or was it because they found something interesting about him?
Whatever the reason, the decision had already been made.
Aster was the next farmer.
[Congratulations to contestant number 3 for being the second farmer of the game.]
[It seems that the audience has quite an eye for potential.]
[Now then, why don't we help you out of that duck suit?]
The host, ever-energetic, announced the decision. Aster's mood was completely the opposite of the host's.
He felt nothing but curiosity when it was someone else's turn, but when the spotlight was on him. He couldn't help but feel scared.
He could only lament that fate had its way with a person's feelings.
Although scared, he also felt a wonderful feeling. After all, it wasn't every day that you could watch the outfit that you're wearing magically change from a duck mascot into a farmer's mascot with purple overalls.
It basically mirrored number 8's farmer outfit except for the fact that he had a number 3 on his overalls instead of the number 8.
[Now then, why don't you choose the next goose for the game?]
Following the command of the voice, Aster's leg moved on its own.
Only now had he previously understood why contestant 8 had walked so stiffly. His legs were probably being controlled like this, too. It was almost as if he were a puppet being controlled by someone else.
The only freedom that Aster had was in his arms.
The arms that chose who would be the next goose.
As he moved behind the chairs of the others, guided like a puppet. Aster couldn't help but wonder.
Who should he choose?
He immediately ruled out contestant 8. He had seen the somersault that the man had performed from the second floor of the barn. It was a move by pure confidence in his skills.
Although he had a bit of faith in his athleticism, he knew it likely wouldn't be a close comparison.
As for the others... they were complete mysteries to him.
If it were like a game, the stats of their characters would be completely unknown to him. Showing up as '???' for agility, strength, etc.
Except for number 5, he looked very clunky when he ran, and he easily got out of breath.
Aster completed his third loop around the circle of chairs as he started his fourth loop. His body walked behind the chairs of contestant 1, then contestant 2, then himself, then 4, and when he reached the chair behind contestant 5.
He swiftly extended his right arm, just like a snake striking at its prey.
His hand grasped firmly onto the shoulder of contestant 5.
As the man turned his head to face him, it was almost as if he could see through the costume masking his expression. Inside the costume's head, he could see the shock and fear in the man's eyes.
But Aster felt no pity.
In a game where his life was on the line, he would rather choose himself than be a saint.
Maybe that was why the audience had chosen him. Aster felt exposed, almost naked, in front of them. It was as if they could see into his thoughts.
He violently shook his head, getting those distracting thoughts out of his head. What mattered now was the game that was about to unfold.
Watching as the man's bloodied duck costume changes from that of the duck to the goose again. He released his hand from his shoulder, seeing that it was confirmed.
[Ooh! What a wonderful surprise.]
[Contestant 3 has chosen contestant 5 again. Some may call it cruel, but doesn't that just make things even more entertaining?]
[It's moments like these that remind us why we host these shows. To entertain you, our dear audience members.]
[Now then, now that the farmer and the goose have been chosen, the second round of Duck, Duck, Goose will now begin.]
...
All I heard was the voice of the host starting the game. Then suddenly I was somewhere else.
The experience was quite weird. It felt like all the colors in the world were mixing and mashing together, and then boom!
I was just there, magically transported in front of a gigantic red doghouse.
It wasn't until the clicking of the clock above my head did I finally realized: that the game had begun.
Taking a deep breath, I decided on what to do. I check the doghouse, then head to the east. To the east lies the barn. It was the center of the map, and if I got lucky, it would maybe help me find my target.
But when I took a step closer to the doghouse, something inside my body screamed.
'Don't go there! You'll die!'
'Run! Run as far away as you can!'
I've always had these instincts with me. Ever since I was a child, ever since I was an adult, they had lived with me. They helped me and they've guided me through life.
I've learned to trust my instincts a long time ago.
And right now, they were screaming and telling me not to go there.
My back was slick with sweat.
Going inside that doghouse... would be certain death.
Taking a deep breath, I ditched the plan of checking the doghouse and decided to just head east.
Walking across the dirt-covered ground, I couldn't help but marvel at how surreal everything felt. Just yesterday I was working at my job and now I'm fucking playing in a game with my life on the line.
Life can be so shitty sometimes.
When I reached the barn, only a minute had passed.
It felt bigger when looking at it up close. The only thing I got from it when I was sitting on the chairs was that it was small, but now being here in person, it curbed those feelings.
I was about to check out the barn until something caught my eye.
A trail.
A trail of blood stained the dirt paths, and the blood was still fresh and wet. The trail started from the inside of the barn and headed towards the east, where the pigs lived.
'Did he create this trail on purpose? Or was he just too dumb to realize he was bleeding the whole way there?'
Whatever it was, I decided to follow the trail. It was my best clue to his current location.
Walking along the blood-streaked path, the massive pig pen started to come into my view. It stretched across the land, and it emitted a foul odor that made my nose scrunch up. Not only that, feces were covering the floor.
Ignoring the foul smell, I followed the trail of blood that led into the pen.
Inside the pen, countless pigs were roaming and making oink sounds, but I ignored them. Still focused on following the trail, it wasn't until a few seconds later did I realized that the trail had started to get messy and erratic.
It was as if he just noticed that he was leaving a blood trail to his spot.
Deciding to speed up. I followed the path even faster until I finally saw my target, a gigantic blue goose that was frantically flailing around with the pigs.
'So it was the latter, this guy was just too stupid to realize he had been leaving a path for me the whole time.'
Without hesitation, I sprinted towards him. He tried to create a frantic escape, but luckily, the pigs obstructed his way. Making the job easier for me.
When I was just a few meters away from him, he turned around, his body trembling. He kneeled. He knew that escape was impossible and the only thing that he could rely on was my mercy.
But I didn't care.
I stepped forward to him. My arms reached out towards the costume, firmly grasping it.
I had caught the goose.
...
[Congratulations to contestant 3 for catching the goose. He comes out on top for the second round of Duck, Duck, Goose, but unfortunately for contestant 5, this means another punishment is coming his way.]
With the announcement from the host, all eyes turned to the blue duck, who started to flail around again.
This time, it wasn't his arms that were being crushed, but his legs.
Flesh and bone were pulverized beneath the surface of the costume, turning his lower limbs into nothing more than mangled pulp. The sight was grotesque and eerie. All the more amplified by the fact that there were no sounds of screams or the tearing and crushing of flesh and bones.
[With the ending of the second game, it's time to begin the third.]
[Dear audience, please cast your votes for the next farmer in round three of Duck, Duck, Goose.]
Unlike the first and second votes, the third vote lacked the intensity of those two.
Every single vote was poured into one contestant, number 5. It was a landslide victory for him.
Though calling it a victory was beyond cruel.
Because being voted was basically death for him.
Without arms or legs, he was immobile. In a game like this, that was as good as a death sentence.
Contestant 5 was chosen by the audience because they just wanted to see someone die helplessly.
Following the trend, the next thing that would be crushed was either his head or torso, or even both, whichever it was. There was only one outcome: death.
Seeing as contestant 5 physically couldn't move at this point, the host just selected a random person to be the goose.
That someone was contestant 10, whose suit transformed into a black goose.
There was no suspense this round. Contestant 10 sat and waited for the timer to run out. There was nothing else to do as the game was over before it even began.
When the timer hit zero, the contestants were transported back to their chairs.
[Congratulations to contestant 10 for winning the third round of Duck, Duck, Goose.]
[How unfortunate. Contestant 5 will now face his third punishment for yet another loss. How unfortunate that one of our stars is about to be extinguished before he even had the chance to shine. ]
With the host's indifferent tone echoing through the room, everyone watched in horror as contestant 5's body slowly caved in on itself. Flesh and bone merged with the blue fabric of his suit, forming a grotesque and twisted display of gore.
It was the first time any of them had witnessed someone die so graphically before their very eyes.
Yet, that horror was quickly drowned out by the roaring laughter and thunderous applause of the audience.
[With the ending of the third round, it's time to begin the voting process again.]
[Dear audience members, please cast your votes for the next farmer of Duck, Duck, Goose.]
Unfortunately for the contestants, neither the host nor its audience cared about what they had just witnessed. The show went on, and the voting for the fourth farmer began without a hint of hesitation.