Crafting Quest

It wasn’t always that Pixel had to search for his wares— more often than not, they came to him. 

Pixel owned an arcade that doubled as a repair service in New Centuary. The location pretty much said it all: folks of all odds and ends resided here, and with their strange and various backgrounds, they brought just as many strange and various curiosities. Over the years, Pixel’s corner had gained a reputation as one of the places to go if you had an electronic that needed a fixer-upper. Others simply came just to play a good old fashioned arcade game, where everyone wondered who “GC Supermacy” was that had the high score of an impossible one million (the secret: Pixel set it to keep customers coming back to defeat them).

Most of the time, when an old machine of his broke down, Pixel had just what he needed to fix it. Being a kitbull paid off you know; having a hoard as massive as he helped when you needed just the right thing. Opening the “Staff Only” room didn’t lead you to what you’d quite think. Some would expect a lounge or lobby, or maybe a place for the kitbull to take a break and absorb magic… but upon opening the door, one would be greeted with what looked like a very long storage room, albeit a very neat and organized one. It almost looked like a collector’s shrine, which, honestly, it wasn’t short of being, knowing Pixel’s nature. 

The shelves were neatly arranged in a yearly timeline, starting from the newer contraptions, to things that dated back a good generation or two (or three?). It was almost like a museum of sorts, where one could see a clear progression of technology the further they walked in. There were consoles from the early days, such as a GameBird Chrome. This one brought back particularly fond memories for the kitbull, and he’d always give it a glance every time he passed by. Further along were parts of said machines, placed neatly by date in various plastic boxes. Wires, chips, USB cables, CD lenses, controllers, joysticks for those controllers, plastic casings, memory cards and so much more were placed in a very meticulous manner on top of each other, or held together with ties. Why would Pixel ever need to go to the market, when he had everything he needed to build his own homebrew console here?

He even had an entire lithium screen from the old TV days in here. Button replacements, dials, AVI cables, all of them… and he didn’t have to go very far to obtain them, either. Most were just thrown out, unwanted due to their obsolete nature, in a back alley or somewhere nearby, and he simply had to give them a little TLC and they were practically usable. Sure, some of them were a little beyond repair, but kitbulls will do as kitbulls do. He would collect it simply for its hedonistic value, and place it in his grand closet, little hands on his hips as he looked upon his collection with pride. 

Some days, Pixel would hear the familiar chimes of an arriving customer opening his door, and he would sit up on his stool behind the counter, ears perked and bicolored eyes wide. A Browbird or Satyr would walk in, arms full of what would like like merely junk to anyone else, but Pixel knew better than that. His eyes would practically sparkle, and a both excited and welcoming brrrr would shake his body.

The Browbirds would often come by since they knew the kitbull around the corner collected these kinds of things. Better than throwing it away, they’d say. Could be salvaged! Pixel often rewarded and encouraged this behavior by letting folks have a free day at his arcade, to which anyone rarely ever declined. He was very accustomed to the beeps and boops of 8-bit sounds, and welcomed the background noise. He much preferred it to a silent gaming lounge, which was a tad eerie in the absence of the laughter or arguing that was meant to accompany the activity.

One Brow in particular, who went by the name of Rewind, was an absolute legend when it came to bringing Pixel things he needed, especially the good old-fashioned stuff. The bird showed up on his doorstep one day, and upon letting him in, Pixel knew this was a guy whose mere presence demanded attention— and that they would get along immediately.
The bird was clad in denim—a popular brow favorite—from head to toe. Jeans jacket, roller skates, iron-on patches, and a stance that totally screamed groovy… this bird had it all. Their fur was the color of a rainbow, their prismatic crest adding to this vibrant look. They would notice Pixel staring them up and down, eyes wide. If he had a mouth, he’d have the biggest grin plastered on his face. Hopping down his stool, he’d tap over excitedly, his little talons making soft scratching noises against the carpet.

“Welcome, welcome!” Pixel calls over in kibble, excited to meet this radical new person. 

“Heya, lil’ guy.” The bird flashes a peace sign, then drifts his gaze to look around. They’re nodding, which Pixel takes as a good sign. “I heard you’re the one who runs this joint. Ya got any playable games? No one has the classics within a ten mile radius.”

“Oh, I have more than just playable games.” Pixel replies cheekily, then gestures the bird over. They follow, gliding seamlessly on their roller skates, but Pixel doesn’t tell them off for it, more amused than anything, giddy someone shares the same aesthetic.

The two eventually stop in front of a purple machine decorated in little Dalon blobs running after a longbull who appears to be eating some yellow crystals. Pixel proudly flourishes his hands, in a “tada” manner. This was his most prized game… Surely, this bird was a connoisseur of the arts. They’d definitely recognize it. 

Pixel wasn’t wrong, as the bird’s entire face lit up when he saw the paint and decal. “You have Kit-man????” Not a minute is wasted before the bird inserts a stargold piece into the machine and boots up the game. He was a pro, which Pixel could tell right off the bat from the successive noises the game was making. Checking afterwards, Pixel could see they had beat the high score, and set the nickname as Rewind. Pixel figured that was their name (or gaming name, anyway) and decided to call them that from that day forth. They were a repeat customer, and grew close rather quickly. 

Nowadays, Rewind dropped off all sorts of things he came across to Pixel’s door. And all he asked in exchange? To have a free pass to any game he wanted, whenever he wanted. Pixel didn’t object to this, since their help was worth much more than he could ever state. The bird liked to get around, and always somehow came back with stuff that Pixel didn’t have.
One time, they brought back a cardboard box loaded to the brim with tchotchkes. The familiar bells of the arcade jingled as the glass door swung open, being pushed aside with a dark, clawed bird foot. Swiveling in, Rewind keeps the door ajar with his back pressed to the glass as he turns around to walk inside without it slamming shut on his tail. 

“Hey, look what I’ve hauled.”

Pixel’s eyes widen in kitbull-hoarding wonder as he scampers over to eagerly take a look. Chuckling, Rewind sets the cardboard box to the floor so that the two may inspect, the objects piled so high already falling out of it. Pixel rushes over to turn the sign on the door from “Open” to “Closed” so the two may inspect without interruption. Scampering back to Rewind on all fours, the kitbull sits himself down and rubs his paws in excitement. There was so much to see… he was already imagining where he would place them on his shelves.

“You’d be surprised how much stuff you can get around just by asking.” The bird smiles. “Halfa these things, nobody wants anymore. Didn’t even have to convince them twice.” Rewind then proceeds to dump the box upside down, the objects clanking as they fall to the floor like a waterfall of wires and plastic. Pixel’s tail puffs as he watches.
One of the items that falls down seems to be an old fashioned Polaroid camera, clinking with a definitive thunk as it hits the floor. Pixel hastily grabs it, hoping its lens didn’t break. Turning it over in his paws, he finds runes inscribed on its sides, and soon realizes this is an older-model Fate’s Focus. Hm… normally these kinds of things wouldn’t interest him, but since it was almost an antique, he’d stash it away for later. Next was a rusty old lantern, covered in wax from years of use. Using his elbow to rub away the stains, Pixel recognizes this as a Fortune Lightglass, the colors having dulled over time. Eh… not much to do with this one. He casts it aside as well. Among the countless objects however something slightly metallic catches Pixel’s eye, and he sifts through the items and pulls out what appears to be a neck accessory, though it had a few blotchy stains on it. He cocks his head, turning it over. It was certainly heavy and worth something, but he didn’t know what it was; he’d never seen it before. Maybe because kitbulls didn’t have necks.

“Oh, that’s a Muse’s Treasure.” Rewind adds helpfully. “It’s supposed to be a replica of some famous king’s jewelry… or somethin.” 

“Eh. Don’t need it.” Pixel tosses the gold aside like it was worthless. Rewind watches, ears twitching at the resulting sound of it hitting the floor with an expensive thud, and shrugs all the same. If it wasn’t some ages old electronic, he had no interest. Neither did Rewind, it seemed.

The two spend a good hour digging through the materials, sorting them on the side. One area for wires, snapped or not, another for aluminum, another for plastic… they ended up having a pile for coins, collectors cards, game posters, instructions manuals, game, cartridges, dead game batteries, CDs, plushes, remotes, some handheld devices that were literally snapped in half (one of which wouldn’t seem to turn off and kept making odd glitching noises) and a limited edition Star Harmony crowd simulator. Rewind laughed at that one. 

Days like this were pretty much how Pixel got most of his materials. Other days, his Dridgeon companion or Rewind’s Dalon mount came to the arcade bearing deliveries. The feathered friend would swoop down, bearing a package in its beak in Pixel’s name. The people of New Centuary knew Pixel and his collection by now, and would sometimes send carrier Dridgeons to forward any stuff they may not need to him that he could find a better use for. Rewind, meanwhile, would go on adventures further out, and if he happened across something interesting, would send his inky mount back with whatever goods he’d stumbled across. Pixel was sometimes reluctant to let it in, lest it stain his carpet…

The Dridgeons didn’t just come from individuals who loaded off to Pixel, however. Pixel in fact also had his own site open where he would put a list of items he desired in exchange for Stargold. It didn’t exactly have the highest traffic, but when someone usually found it, they tended to be a collector like he was, and knew the worth of what they were selling, eager to get their hands on the Stargold Pixel was offering. Pixel didn’t really mind paying the price— as long as he had his paws on these particular materials, he’d be satisfied.

Of course, as much as he loved to just collect them, there did come times when customers would walk in and ask for repairs, so he had to use up a bit of his stock, even if it meant he only had one of it. One time, a particularly wealthy-looking browbird walked in, a sort of wary look on their face as they glanced left and right, almost as if they couldn’t be caught dead in something as lowly as an arcade, as opposed to whatever mansion they probably owned here in New Centuary. Pixel could tell right away they were here for some kind of repair; you didn’t really see the wealthy coming to play games.

Meeting eyes with the kitbull, they’d speak: 

“I suppose you are the owner of this place? I heard you are excellent at repairs— you see, my son has broken his… toy.” 

Pixel looks over to see that it is one of the newest console models in the market. Fingers folded, he listens.

“He does tend to throw a fit if his toys are not functional. I’ve tried several other places, and yet… well, I have nowhere else to turn.”

Pixel simply holds out his paw. 

“I’ll have it fixed for you in two hours, brand new.” he didn’t promise things he couldn’t do.

He would go back to his staff only room, leaving the browbird at the desk, and inspect the item in his hands, opening it up. Ah, a fried motherboard. Must have been someone with a metal aspect getting a bit too heated and rage quitting. He had just the thing for it, though he only had one… it was gonna cost them.

Returning as promised, Pixel hands over the fixed device.
The browbird inspects the machine. Though they can’t tell what changed, they would find out if it worked later. Paying Pixel the fee, he exits the arcade, long cloak billowing behind them, and Pixel counts his money. These funds would go to buying him new materials for his craft, and the cycle would ever continue.