It's been a few days since I woke up on June 27th at around 8:00am (a feat for my night owl self) and saw a YouTube notification about the newest Alien Stage video. I watched it right there, in bed, while both Penny and Walter eyed me, wondering why I wasn't getting up to serve them breakfast. Karma was an eight minute long video, much longer than any other Alien Stage installment, but it felt like it barely lasted a minute.
The ending made one thing very clear: this was the end of Alien Stage, or at least the arcs for the characters I'd grown to love over the course of just a year. I'd found Alien Stage through less conventional means; to put it simply, I was perusing YouTube when I stumbled upon an ironmouse video reacting to it. It was my introduction to both ironmouse and Alien Stage, and if I hadn't absentmindedly clicked on the thumbnail out of sheer curiosity, I wouldn't have found myself a series that...
Well, "changed my life" is a thorough exaggeration. The series didn't change my life by any means. In fact, when you consider my day-to-day, it didn't change anything. I didn't really talk about Alien Stage outside of my best friend, who is strictly online. In real life, it was as if the series never weaseled it's way into my brain aside from a couple of car accessories and some acrylic standees.
The extent of my enjoyment of Alien Stage was in the sheer fact that it was my little series to enjoy on my own. It was the first thing I actively kept up with in a long time, marking the days videos would drop on my calendar and engaging with the fandom (on a more surface level, my deep dive into fandom days are way behind me). I'd forgotten how much I truly enjoyed things until I got into Alien Stage and remembered the lasting impact a series can have on a person.
I've been reading a lot more than usual lately, but it feels very consumer. I'm simply consuming the books I'm reading, but I'm not actively engaging with the text. I'm enjoying them, but I forget them once they're done. So when I finished Karma, I was left with a feeling different than I was used to. Usually, when I would finish something, there was this sense of emptiness or profound longing, maybe even a satisfaction that didn't drive me for further pursuit. But with Alien Stage, I almost felt like it wasn't over, even though my brain knows it's over to an extent. There's not much to tell from this point for these characters; their arcs are complete, and this chapter is closed. And yet my heart still feels full and open for it, all the songs on repeat on my Spotify playlist, searching for art on Bluesky, keeping up with whatever else Vivinos has to offer. Like it's not over, like I'll wake up tomorrow to a new announcement for another video, and it'll never end.
But it did end. And I think this is a feeling I've forgotten over the years: the profound endlessness of a good story, of a narrative woven in such a beautifully intricate fashion that it's like taking a bite in the most succulent sirloin again and again. It stays long with you and, even though it's over, it's still with you in an intangible way.
It's the kind of feeling I strive for with my writing every time I take pen to pencil. It's an aspect I always fret over—whether my work has meaning, if it'll impact someone in a way that Alien Stage has impacted me. Not necessarily life changing, but like a little parasite that feeds on my mind, and feeds me back joy, and the cycle continues again and again and forevermore. But I think it’s a feeling that I have to convey without being conscious of it, just as I’m not conscious to casual feeling that Alien Stage’s ending has brought me. Because I know my enjoyment of it doesn’t end here.
Maybe that’s the key? Finding that unconscious point of zen, a source to be tapped and harness into my work, freely given to any who doesn’t consume but savor? Who knows.
As of the Spring contest, I’ve decided to no longer partake in Writing Battle. My last challenge will be the coming Fear Pro-Battle, and then I will be done. It’s too steep of a cost for a competition that, I feel, I’ve outgrown as a writer. Not in the cocky sense—I simply don’t want to write short stories for the rest of my life, and I have a WIP that’s been salivating for me to finish it.
So when my Spring Battle genre was Apocalyptic Game Show, it felt like fate. Not only was it one of my favorite kinds of genres, it was also, coincidentally, the same genre Alien Stage was in.
And so, I chose to homage it in the story I wrote, my last peer battle. I don’t really see myself brushing this off to submit anywhere, and I can’t possibly think of a better place to post it than here.
Here it is: The Stars of Exhibit.
We leave the camera-lined house and see ruined Big Ben, clock face lustrous as the full moon. It’s the first time I’ve seen stars in three months.
The streets of Occupied London are filled with Yaltu, bloated blue creatures with fish eyes and puckered lips. They cheer as we stand on the dais, green spittle flying.
They sit Adrien and I on velvet thrones. The final two of ExHibit, once packed with eighteen others like sardines until we were picked off. I keep telling myself it’s their fault—those things voted for my friends to die. Yet their souls weigh on my shoulders like lead, their blood stains the threads of my chair.
A screen lights below the clock face. Ux’ia, the host, bellows in a garbled tongue. They play recaps of our time in the show, all twenty-six episodes.
First is me.
They show my lips to Cassius’s ear, assuring him safety, only to betray him at nominations. They show me spreading unfavorable rumors about Helena, guaranteeing her spot on the chopping block. They show chunks of Marianna’s brains caked on the walls, then a cut to me laughing.
They don’t show me holding Gina as she cried for her mother. They don’t show me playing pool with Brian and Kameron like a trio of college kids. They don’t show me singing my alliance to sleep, the first elimination reducing them to only whimpers and sobs.
And why should they? What would empathy show? Humans are capable of self-rule? Yaltu don’t need to finish their occupation?
I could say my only options were to lie, cheat, betray. My little brother’s photo in my locket says otherwise.
See you in the stars.
Adrien’s recap is next. He’s shown with the same traitorous, maniacal traits. Yet, the camera pans to him in more flattering angles. His smiles are genuine. He has more intimate moments with the group.
They show him holding Larissa in his arms, eliminated, choking on vomit. They don’t show him cursing Yaltu for her demise.
I eye him on the other throne. Around his neck is a collar, his proof of loyalty to the aliens. An eternal immunity, why he sits there now and will walk away unscathed.
Yet, his eyes are vacant. Why?
Big Ben gongs. Midnight.
The screen flickers. ExHibit’s logo appears, as do our names. Then numbers.
Adrien
92
That’s all I need to see.
In the distance, a red dot fixes on me.
I close my eyes. A shot rings out, a glorious call to Yaltu’s final occupation of Earth.
When I open them, blood stains my skin. Not mine.
Over me stands Adrien, an oozing hole in his neck, collar broken. Back to the audience.
Why?
He smiles. There’s a fervor in his gaze.
“Don’t…let them…” he sputters, blood dripping down his chin. “…play us…like puppets…” A gasp. “Shine…as genuine…as the stars…”
He falls.
The aliens screech.
I’m shoved to the ground.
Big Ben finishes its dirge.
This story ended up with 6 points, gaining an honorable mention but just shirking leaving its house. On look-back, there’s a lot I could’ve done to fix this up, and it’s definitely a story far too big for it’s word count (500 words). But, I was proud when I wrote it, and one of my beta readers remarked it as “a love letter to the genre”, so that’s all I could ask for.
(Also, the inspiration from Alien Stage is VERY obvious… You can tell what kind of brainworm is infecting my mind with this series.)
In all honestly, my life has been so busy, I haven’t had much time to think, even less time to think of something to write.
With Alien Stage’s ending though, I felt like jotting down some of my feelings on it, so I figured I’d do it here. And with my Writing Battle entry floating in the wind, I had enough to build something.
I’ve been reassessing my writing goals for the year. I’ve been hitting deadline after deadline for short story contests, submissions, etc. all at the expense of my WIP. So, with the second half of the year here, I’ve decided to set my short story ventures on the back burner and focus fully on my book. I’m going to play out the Writer’s Games and still pop in for free events like Furious Fiction, but otherwise I’m done with paid writing things for the rest of the year.
If you’re interested in experiencing Alien Stage yourself, here’s a playlist for all the canon songs in the series, starting with ROUND 1. Think deadly American Idol in space.