[How can he not, when it's so easy to pick up the plastic gun and begin firing the trigger? How can he not, when he's been challenged to be the best? His arm interfaces easily with the controls--this is as natural to him as falling.

A wide grin stretches across his face as a zombie explodes in a satisfying mess of pixels. The rust-riddled gears in his impossibly small brain begin to turn.]

Uh, favorite snack? I dunno, potato chips are good. Big fan of chocolate chip cookies, too. Are we gonna have a celebration or somethin'?

[In Ash's mind, there's absolutely no way that this plan could go wrong. Everyone else would've probably dismissed it--everyone else did, in fact, dismiss it when he last proposed it on the network. But what did they know? The Fourth wouldn't encourage him unless it was a good idea, right?

In game, Ash gets smacked by a vampire and loses half his health bar. He frowns, focusing on his aiming and blasting through the hordes of undead. His points climb ever higher.]

You really think that old witch'll have somethin' up her sleeve? Worth a shot, I guess. Go big or go home, am I right?