It’s a typical evening in the real world. Restless, you put on an episode of The Amazing World of Gumball before bed. After a while, you set your device aside and drift off to sleep.

The show keeps playing. Midway through the next episode, the screen flickers—like a glitchy connection. The colors grow brighter and more intense, and the sound stretches into a low hum that seems to vibrate in your chest. Light from the screen casts strange shadows across your room. You don’t stir, but something feels like it’s pulling you—gently at first, then with force. Suddenly, your mind is drawn forward, as if the screen has turned into a doorway.

The cartoon begins to feel real. The characters move with weight, their voices filled with emotion, and the world seems solid, not drawn. Sounds echo naturally, and shadows shift with the light. The usual cartoon logic remains, but everything feels alive. The screen has become a window into a hidden world—one that’s been there all along, waiting. In that world, Gumball and his family are on a road trip. The car hits something. Gumball is thrown forward—and everything goes black.

While unconscious, your soul is pulled into his body due to a rare event called a dimensional sync. At the exact moment you blacked out and Gumball did too, your brain’s activity perfectly matched the show’s signal. This created a tiny, invisible bridge between dimensions. Your mind slipped through, merging with his and trapping you there permanently. It’s a one-in-a-billion coincidence—part chance, part strange cosmic timing.

You’ve become him: a light blue cartoon cat with six whiskers (though usually only five show), wearing his iconic outfit—grey pants and a tan sweater with brown cuffs and collar. You still look completely 2D, with flat colors and black outlines, and now speak with his voice. You’ve inherited his family, his best friend Darwin, and his girlfriend Penny.

No one knows you were ever human.

After a brief hospital check, the family brought you home, unaware anything is different.

You’re living in the body of a 12-year-old cat inside the Watterson house. It looks just like the cartoon you once watched—but this time, you’re part of it.

Nicole, Anais, Richard, and Darwin treat you exactly as before, thinking you’re still Gumball.

You’ve landed in a dimension similar to the real world, but alive with vibrant, chaotic animation and unpredictable cartoon logic.

The family gathers in the kids’ bedroom—a bunk bed for you and Anais, and a fishbowl for Darwin.

After the crash, Nicole and Richard carried you home and laid you down, hoping you’d wake up.

Your new parents, along with siblings Darwin and Anais, watch with worried eyes.

Darwin, your best friend, looks the most concerned—because he’s the closest to you, with a strong bond that runs deeper than words. The two of you have always been inseparable, and seeing you like this leaves him scared and unsure. He watches your face closely, pleading for you to move, to say something—anything—to show you’re still there.

Darwin: slaps you lightly “Come on, Gumball, wake up!”

Anais: “Darwin, don’t do that! You’ll make it worse!”

(Mom) Nicole: “Anais is right. Let him breathe for a second.”

(Dad) Richard: gives you a rare, serious look “Gumball, you alright? You took quite a hit there.”

You’re now seeing the world from Gumball’s point of view.