never responded after his third message. His last words: “The cart is a door. Don’t play after midnight. I saw my own funeral.”
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For technical or "draft paper" documentation purposes, these are the core specifications of the GBA system: never responded after his third message
The labyrinth was gone. Instead, I was in a replica of my own bedroom. The graphics were low-res, but everything was there: my posters, my cat, the slice of pizza on my desk. The game had rendered it from my SP’s microphone and ambient light sensor (which the GBA doesn’t officially have—but this cart somehow did). I saw my own funeral
This story is a work of creepypasta fiction. But if you find a grey GBA cart with no label and a silver “M” on the back… maybe leave it at the flea market.