Crafting Quest

Beep beep boop.

These were the sounds Pixel heard almost daily. Scampering to the desk of his shop setup, he plopped himself on an old arcade seat, shifting into position. His little "workshop" was located in an abandoned arcade on the corner street of New Centuary. He had first discovered it on his travels, padding along the cobblestone streets, scrounging up any form of digital scraps he could find for his hoard. He'd shove them under his butterfly cloak of wings, and attempt to balance them as his other arm was occupied with his Everlit Candle.

Along the way, a particular building stood out. Its once-neon lights, now dim and appearing as if they hadn't been turned on in ages, were dusty and faded. The wooden door with a square-shaped window in its center was cracked and dusty as well, as if someone had hit it out of frustration... and no one wanted to repair it. On its vitrine were torn, muddy posters of old games he recognized. Some, a little more obscure. One of them illustrated a red Browbird jumping to hit a ? box. Another, a longbull worming its way through a maze eating what appeared to be yellow balls, with Dalon droplets chasing it. Squinting, he attempted to push the door.

To his surprise, it gave way, and the sound of bells chimed quietly as the door was opened, signaling a customer. Pixel gave out a delighted brr. Peering in curiously, the kitbull looked around. It was a bit dark, but the light filtering through the vitrines was enough to give him a sort of glimpse into what this place used to be. The air was dim and brown, and dust particles floated like specks across the vast room. The floor was carpeted with a retro geometric pattern. Pixel's footsteps left dustprints in his wake, where he stepped becoming a darker, more clear color. Good thing he couldn't sneeze.

Along the walls were old arcade machines. Some of the screens were cracked, others entirely missing, joycons ripped off, others burnt. What did people want with an arcade machine screen... Actually, Pixel was not one to judge. Also, this was New Centuary.
Some seats were knocked over across the floor. Pixel had to be careful where he stepped lest he trip over them as the light grew dimmer the farther back he went. He squinted to see.

There was a counter on the far left, with a busted cashier machine and some leftover prizes that one would obtain in exchange for tickets. Torn strings of said tickets littered the floor. Some plushes of well-known Celestial Seas figures were left behind, too.

Jumping up to stand on the counter, Pixel's eyes sparkled. Yes, yes, this was a goldmine. All the discarded electronics... the oldschool vibe... it was perfect. He rubbed his paws together. If he took the time to revamp this place, get it a little cleaned up... yes, yes, this would be a good place to settle and start a business. The people of Centuary had many wares... and many customers.

***

And that is how Pixel's little shop came to be. Now, all sorts of folks had heard of his craft. People from far and wide would step inside his little arcade, chimes ringing signaling an entrance, to drop off any damaged electronics they had.
The service was cheap-- at least Pixel advertised it as so. All he asked for in return was old collectables. Decent right? Until they sold for 10,000 Stargold on eBird.

His favorite thing to do was untangle wires. Yes... there were the occasional folk who were too lazy to do this themselves. They'd drop them off at his place, and he'd give them back to them quick and tidy. Others had damaged screens, glitched games, broken phones, sometimes even items giving eerie signals... others claiming the computer was talking back to them. He wouldn't explain how, but... Anything given to him was (almost) always repaired. The ones that couldn't be... well, he hoarded them to himself. And replaced them with a new one when he figured the customer wouldn't care to notice. When they weren't around, his green Dalon or fluffy white Drigeon were able to make the delivery for him, flying in the air. This was his specialty.

Often after he closed for the day he'd just sit and admire his collection of old things. This business paid off. He was surprised to see the different types of technology all sorts of travelers carried with them. It was both fascinating and intriguing. He'd vibrate with excitement at the prospect of being able to take apart new things. Next time you have some old electronic you can't repair, take it to the Kitbull down the alley with the flashy neon sign. He'll know what to do.