Title: Captain Gamecube
Premise, or Lack Thereof: Unqualified casual scrublady becomes the Chosen One; hilarity ensues
Reason for Banishment: It’s not even a good self insertion story. And it lost steam.

Captain Gamecube
a shameless self insertion by Dot

When most people fall asleep playing video games, they just wake up the next morning with a terrible headache and a crick in their necks, but doesn’t happen if you play with lol coaching that make you improve faster in the game and you enjoy it more.

I get sucked into another world.

Lucky me.

Princess Zelda is staring at me, shock written all over her features. “Goddesses, what have I done?”

Not the first words anybody would want to hear in a situation like this.


So, it turns out that there was a horrible mistake. The Gamecube that I bought was supposed to go to some other kid, a real gamer and not an occasional hobby player like me. Of course, now that they’d exhausted their magic bringing me here, they were stuck with me.

I’m fitted with my equipment, a small black plastic controller.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Luigi asked, trying to be diplomatic.

I stare at the gallery of past Captains. “Really, really glad that I’m not Captain N64. And that I didn’t buy a Wii.”


“Um.” This is me, staring and trying not to squeal like a fangirl. “Why is Snake the instructor for Training Mode?”

“To keep the male readers interested,” is the dry response. “Unless you’re the type that’s into hot women.” Snake chuckles when I turn bright pink. “I was teasing.”

“Can we get started now?” I squeak, feeling quite self-conscious now.

“Of course. How familiar are you with first- and third-person shooters?”

“Pretty much just watched my friends play it. My brother has Goldeneye and Perfect Dark, so he ropes me into that every once in a while.” I scratch my cheek. “I end up getting killed a lot.”

Snake looks thoughtful. “Then it might be best to start with basic awareness and sneaking techniques.” He gestures and a cardboard box rises from the ground.

I’m about to laugh, but a stern look from Snake makes me gulp and climb in without another word.


I’m in a box shuffling around a hallway in the depths of Brinstar, hiding from the Space Pirates and looking for the rendezvous point with Samus.

I still can’t quite silence the voice of reason screaming how illogical this is. Nobody bothers to investigate why there’s a freaking box on the ground with its flaps protruding, or hears me bump against the sides when I move as I still haven’t figured out how to do it in complete silence. Heck, I should be bringing every Space Pirate to my location every time I contact someone on the Codec, but once again, nobody notices.

I pause at a junction to check the map in my heads-up display, squelching the inner cynic’s questioning of my sole means of navigation.

(Snake had been quite dismayed at my almost utter lack of directional sense. “What will you do in worlds that don’t have have in-game maps?”

“I dunno, use the left hand rule?”

“I don’t think so. I’ll have Otacon rig something up. It’ll be ready by the time you come back.”)

Having regained my bearings, I continue forward, but am soon brought up short by a green door.

I dial up Otacon. “I need Super Missiles.” I switch the map to radar view and almost faint when I see how many enemies are in the area. “Lots and lots of Super Missiles.”


After what amounts to one horrendous, long dungeon crawl in which Samus and I are ambushed in sequence by her palette-swapped clones, I approach the final chamber alone, Samus staying behind to hold back the Dark World version of herself.

I groan in dismay as I see what awaits me before I can get my hands on the Game Disc. “Jumping puzzles? Why do there have to be jumping puzzles?”

I pace to get better angles of what I need to do to reach the top. I also keep an eye open for any more traps; given that Samus and I kept encountering what amounted to boss-level enemies on our way here, I suspected that the Space Pirates already knew where the Game Disc was, but couldn’t get their hands on it because only the Destined Hero could open the final lock or whatever. The radar was silent, but that didn’t preclude a sudden appearance of enemies via cutscene.

The Codec rings in that startling, obnoxious noise. I turn it on. “Yes?”

“Chozo technology is amazing!” Otacon raves. “The way everything fits together—so poetic!”

“That’s nice, Otacon. You can tell me all about it after I get back.”

Otacon misses my subtle prodding and continues launch into an enthusiastic technobabble rant about the marvels of Samus’ exoskeleton suit that lasts for a good five minutes before he realizes that he’s done so. “Oh, I’m sorry! I get carried away sometimes.”

I chuckle. “I noticed.”

“Well, anyway,” he taps at some keys. “I’ve managed to replicate some of the suit’s effects, but because of compatibility issues they have limited use. I’m reloading your inventory display right now.”

The lookup screen flickers, and when it stabilizes again I see a series of icons and an accompanying number. Having played the games before, it’s not hard to figure out what the icons mean. “Thanks, Otacon.”

It doesn’t take me long to figure out a new plan—having a headset that can calculate the right speeds and angles of attacks makes things so much easier, and there is enough running room to execute a Super Jump. I double check everything to make sure that this is going to work, and take a few steps back just to settle my nerves.

A small rounding error means that I crash into the ceiling, then land hard on my butt and bounce a few times before coming to a stop. By the time the stars stop doing the can-can in my vision, I’m staring down the barrel of a gun that just screams overcompensation.

“Well, well, well,” Ripley drawled, hooking a claw into a corner of my armor that doesn’t quite fit and lifting me off my feet. “I didn’t expect those do-gooders to be so desperate as to put the fate of the world in the hands of a rank amateur.”

I think it’s fair to say that it comes as an utter and complete surprise to both Ripley and myself that I manage to shoot him in the face. When he drops me, I turn my blaster to the other Space Pirates that comprises Ripley’s entourage. I squeeze off a handful of tiny, woeful pellets of energy before I feel the claw of a grappling beam pierce my side.

Just before I lost consciousness I remembered thinking to myself that being electrocuted was so not on the list of experiences I wanted to add to my resume.


I come to among soft, fluffy pillows and a feather-light blanket made of fine silk.

And naked.

And being watched by Bowser.

I throw a pillow in his general direction and wrap the blankets around myself, looking around to see where I could put myself as far away from this monstrosity as I could.  Meanwhile, I’ve leaped to my feet and backed up onto the headboard.