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BEHIND THE MAZE A SHORT PARODY BY NFT'd with ❤ on Kododot You know them as the celebrity ghosts in the highest grossing video game of all time, a voice-over artist declared through Audrey's surround sound. A young woman sat alone in her digital studio reviewing raw footage of the four legendary Pac-Man ghosts. Blinky, Pinky, Inky, and Clyde hovered over a cobalt-blue leather sofa waiting to field interview questions. Behind them, an 8-bit grid of cobalt-blue LED lights replicated their notorious maze against black flats. Audrey paused the video and cued up the narrator's next line. Their relentless pursuit of Pac-Man rocketed them to superstardom. Audrey’s left index finger slid across the trackpad as she dragged and dropped another video clip into her editing project — a panning shot of the four famous ghosts from left to right. Blinky was the first in line. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead as the red ghost clenched his jaw and ground his teeth. He jumped at every single sound — at every single movement. Even without audio, his anger and aggression overshadowed the other three. To his right, Pinky fidgeted over her seat. The token female seemed lost in thought as she trembled and picked at her floating pink hem. Next in line, the bashful cyan ghost named Inky stared at something off-camera. Maybe he was avoiding eye contact; probably, he was just spacing out. Clyde was last in line. The orange ghost with bloodshot eyes fixated on a crewman lingering around the craft services table. As usual, Clyde had the munchies. Audrey clicked to add more audio. For decades, each ghost struggled with drug addiction and money troubles. And in the end, they had to face the tragic death of one of their own. This is the story of a glorious rise to fame that ends in heart breaking loss… This is Blinky, Pinky, Inky, and Clyde: Behind the Maze. Audrey took a deep breath, leaned back, and pulled her brown hair into a ponytail. Then just to be safe, she saved the entire project once again. She pushed away from her desk and spun a celebratory three-sixty in her swivel chair. Finally satisfied, she picked up her iPhone and sent a single text to the producer: It’s done. A second later she got a text: Upload it to my dropbox, please. Their lives ranged from unremarkable to tragic… Blinky lowered his eyes and shook his red head solemnly. “Pop was a bastard. Real fucking cruel. Somehow, my mother escaped his physical abuse, but it was hard for her — being a single mom. We went to bed hungry almost every night. Sometimes, she brought home old fruit from the market where she worked. Bananas and peaches were my favorite. To this day, I still love the smell of overripe fruit.” Pinky fought back tears. “I never knew my father, but my mother was perfect in every way. Momma always said, Make love a priority. Lucky for me, I married a doctor, so I didn't have to work. Feminists? I never understood career women. All I ever wanted was a family, but unfortunately, Bill and I were never blessed… Children get me all teary-eyed, especially little babies.” Inky turned from shy to smug as he reminisced, “Both my parents were lawyers, and I’m an only child, so of course, we were loaded. It sure cheesed them off when I didn’t follow in their footsteps and go to Harvard. But I had to listen to my muse, you know? I had an apartment in SoHo and some gallery shows. Great parties. Never made much money, but I never needed money. Art is about so much more than making a buck.” Clyde slouched and mumbled, “I don’t know, dude. I graduated from high school, then got this dumb job.” . Each one died the way they lived… “I died… Violently,” Blinky recalled. “It was a bloody mess, and that’s all you need to know. I never believed in any of that spiritual shit. I thought death would be the end of my suffering. But there I was, still hanging around - only with no body, nowhere to go, and not a damn thing to do.” “My marriage ended the day I found my husband cheating with some nurse slut at work.” Pinky sighed. “I cried and cried for months. Then, when I finally couldn’t take the pain any more, I chased a bottle of sleeping pills with a pint of vodka. And when I woke up dead, I felt,” she looked up as if praying, “so much lighter. I loved being a pink ghost. The possibilities were endless.” “I rolled my Porsche and died from severe head trauma before the ambulance even arrived,” Inky said matter-of-factly. “Yeah, I was drunk. So what? Popped some pills at a nightclub. Then went to a disco and took some more. Was huffing too I think." The cyan ghost shrugged. "I used to party pretty hard.” “I just died… I don’t know how.” Clyde took a deep breath. “Naturally.” . All four of their afterlives changed forever when Japanese developer Toru Iwantani digitized them. The gaming genius resurrected these four lost souls into 8- bit icons. “This Japanese kid offered me a job on a message board,” Blinky said. “I was the only damned ghost online back then. Honestly, I never thought it would go anywhere, but I had nothing to lose so, why not? I agreed to digitization. Turns out, it wasn’t much different from being on the ARPANET in the early 80’s.” “I really enjoyed haunting. It suited me,” Pinky said. “But when Toru showed me his concept sketch of Pac-Man… Butterflies. It was love at first site, at least for me. I knew I had to be wherever Pac was. So, I left my house for the digital world. Sometimes, I wonder what ever happened to that poor family I used to haunt. Such adorable twin girls. Anyway, I pixelized nicely, don’t you think?” “I tried a lot of different gigs after I died,” Inky said. “I loved the freedom of freelancing and kept looking for projects that spoke to me. When I saw the audition notice from Namco, I went for it. Iwantani and I hit it off right away. I loved his innovative spirit. Being digitized into 8-bit felt AMAZING… Nothing else comes close. I only wish I could do it again and again and again.” “Pretzel - what?” Clyde asked. “I don’t know, dude. I stumbled into this whole Pac-Man thing by accident. Everyone makes a big deal, but it’s just a stupid video game.” . In Japan, they only got a lukewarm reception, but then something special happened in America. And before long, Pac-Man Fever swept the globe… “It practically happened overnight, so I KNEW this was my destiny,” Blinky proclaimed with a confident smile. “We weren’t supposed to be a hit. No one expected we’d become an international sensation,” Pinky added. “By 1982, we had collected 7,000,000,000 quarters. In just two years — seven billion — that’s BILLION with a capital B.” Inky fell back into the blue leather sofa and breathed out. “Now THAT was something!” “We became the Most Successful Coin Game in the Guinness Book of World Records.” Clyde yawned. “If that sort of thing matters to you.” . As the quarters kept rolling in, so did the fans… “Sure, everybody loved Pac-Man,” Blinky scoffed. “But there was a special kind of superfan… The chicks that worshipped the ghost house. We called them ghosties - and they were HOT! HELLO! Treated us like freaking rockstars.” Blinky grinned while recalling an inappropriate memory. “Mmmmmmm… Life was GOOD.” “Ghosties?” Pinky rolled her eyes. “Just a bunch of fangirl floozies if you ask me. Toru made us colorful so that the game would appeal to women. Yet, for the longest time, no one realized that I was female. You’d think the color pink would have tipped them off. But sure, even I had some ladies hit on me back then. I had to tell them, Sorry, I don’t swing that way, sweetie.” “Ghosties sure knew how to party,” Inky snickered. “Ghosties?” Clyde giggled. “Dude!” . Along with sudden fame, came more money - tons of money — and not just quarters anymore… “Cold, HARD cash, not that Bitcoin crypto shit. I could buy anything I wanted,” Blinky boasted, “and I wanted a lot!” “Shopping became a competitive sport for me.” Pinky mumbled, “But I felt lonely working so much.” “I threw some crazy raves,” Inky added. “They were off the hook.” “Yeah,” Clyde said dismissively, “I got paid.” . Although they seemed to be at the top of their game, the ghosts got lost in a maze of spin-offs and cartoon deals. In the game sequel, Ms. Pac-Man, marketers decided to replace Inky with a purple lady ghost named Sue. Then later, Clyde refused to appear in Pac-Man Junior. And to make matters worse, players were learning the game's choreography making it harder and harder for the ghosts to catch the yellow icon. “I was all, Who the fuck is this Sue bitch?” Blinky chuckled. “But seriously, there was a change in the game. Players were studying us, learning all our moves. Then this guy Ken Uston published Mastering Pac-Man, a pattern book that shared ways to evade us. Well, that — that was the motherfucking beginning of the end.” “Merchandising, awards, Saturday morning cartoons.