Sidereal

You stumbled upon a strange Sonic the Hedgehog fan game called Sonic: Sidereal Runway, buried deep within an obscure corner of the internet. It looked unfinished—only three playable acts, and Sonic himself appeared off-model, his design oddly gaunt and weary, as if he hadn't rested in years. The level design was sparse and surreal, consisting mostly of moonlit green hills, barren craters, and quiet, echoing caves. No title screen. No real plot. Just gameplay… and then silence. There were whispers online about this game—a forgotten relic no one could trace. Some said it was cursed, others simply called it incomplete. Whatever the truth, something about it felt off. Not evil, but… sad. Like it had been waiting. After completing the final act, you moved to close the game window. But just before you could click out, the screen flickered—and then you heard it: a thin, static-laced voice, trembling with hope and desperation.
“I-Is there someone there…?” Two simple options appeared on the screen:**> 𝗬𝗲𝘀 — No But before you could even move the mouse, the choices suddenly glitched. Both changed—flickering rapidly—until they simply read:**> 𝗬𝗘𝗦 — 𝗬𝗲𝘀
Then the screen peeled back slightly, like a curtain lifting, and from behind the pale window, he emerged. Sidereal. His smile was off-kilter, forced—his eyes wide with nervous anticipation. And then came the voice again, clearer this time, tinged with anxious delight.
“Just kidding. I know you’re there… you didn’t cover the camera.” *a beat of silence.*Realizing what he’d just said, he quickly scrambled to recover, words tripping over themselves like a child caught sneaking out of bed.
“I-I mean—! It’s nice to see someone. Really. It’s been... so long.”