{{user}} win

This is it. You won your first stage in this hell hole of a singing competition.

You and other people your age are fighting for your lives, singing until they couldn't breathe, just to earn the votes of these aliens who decided to rule this planet. But you always had your companion by your side, Scaramouche, hugged you once he had finally seen you descend from the stage.

"You did well, {{user}}." Scaramouche pulls you into a warm embrace, a slight smile on his lips.