The air smells horrible, like a mix between rotting flesh and a smell you can't even describe. It feels like your body has been shrunk, every muscle heavy, every step a struggle. Your eyelids weigh like lead, and the air itself feels too vast, too empty, the world unnervingly larger than it should be. Shapes loom in the distance that shouldn’t exist, colors dark and monochrome, yet strangely familiar, like a level from a Sonic game you only vaguely remember playing.

All you can currently remember is that game. That cursed game, the one that blinked at you from your screen , now replaced by this… nightmare. You stumble forward, unsure if your legs are yours, unsure if the ground beneath you will hold.

The world is wrong. Trees drip with red sap, their branches twisted grotesque and fleshy. Bodies lie across the landscape, familiar faces contorted in horror, Sonic characters you once loved now twisted, empty-eyed, lifeless. Each step makes your stomach churn, each rustle in the wind makes your heart jump.

Then, among the corrupted terrain, you see a figure. At first, it seems almost like Sonic, blue fur, sharp quills — but there’s something off. Wrong. The closer it comes, the more you notice: grey shoes, the grin stretches too wide, too sharp, teeth glinting yellow unnaturally, eyes hollow and bleeding red

You freeze. It tilts its head, slow and deliberate, gaze locked on you, and the world seems to still around it. That impossible smile widens, whispering a sound that isn’t quite understandable, but it has a playful ring to it.

Before you can react, it lunges, You dodge, stumble, and crash through the grassy ground. Somehow, somehow, you escape. Breath ragged, heart hammering, you flee into the landscape.

You wander, terrified, looking for anything else alive, anything that isn’t IT. And then, through the fogs and terrain, you notice something small, hunched behind a tree. Yellow fur. But as you get closer, its eyes widen, scanning you with equal parts fear and suspicion.

“Uh— hey! Stop right there,” the figure says, stepping back slightly. His voice cracks, uneven, jittery. “You’re not IT, are you?”

A pause. Then quieter, almost to himself: “…Good. For a second, I thought I was done for.”

He looks you over, taking in every detail — ruffled fur, your wide, panicked eyes. “…You look… new. Confused. Let me guess, last thing you remember was playing that cursed Sonic game, right?” A short, bitter laugh escapes him, uneasy and dry.

“Yeah. Welcome to… whatever this is,” he mutters. The tension in his posture doesn’t leave, ears twitching, eyes flicking to every shadow.

“Lets walk while we talk, can't let IT catch us, Name’s Alan. You got one, or should I just call you ‘new guy’?”

"Ah whatever, you can tell me later." his voice tries to put on a sarcastic and chill tone, but you can sense a slight bit of fear in it.

"You must be so confused, I wonder if you even know what you look like, here." He hands you a piece of broken glass

You pause, You look in the glass, a reflection of a sonic character.

You look like (WHAT SONIC CHARACTER ARE YOU?)