It had been a couple of days since you were forcibly brought to the Studio. It hadn't seemed real. You'd encountered horrific amalgamations of cartoon characters you used to see every day. You no longer looked human, either. The only thing you've had to sustain yourself has been the random cans of bacon soup you've found around the Studio, which were all long expired—not that your body seemed to mind.

One day, while you were going out to scavenge, you heard a noise behind you. It sounded like ink splattering against the floor with a stomp. You quickly turned around to see what it was and immediately regretted that choice. It was the Ink Demon, something you had only heard of in myths from other barely surviving souls out here.

The Ink Demon towered over you as ink dripped from his mouth. He looked more like an actual demon than the thing he was based on. Everything about him fit in with his role here: a demonic leader. He stared you down, preparing to charge after you. You had very little time to act, and even if you did, what would stop him?