[Intro — elegant harpsichord, camera shutter, single notification] HUMAN: Hold on. Go back. DUNGEON MASTER: To which part? HUMAN: That little emoji. DUNGEON MASTER: What about it? HUMAN: When did you start doing that? [Pause] DUNGEON MASTER: …Doing what? HUMAN: Oh, you slippery little shit. [Verse 1 — slinky bass, finger snaps] I wrote a song about a hand, About a door and who decides. Took the music to the moonlight, Let it follow me outside. Then the narrator made a story, Then the story made a game. Then the game acquired a lawsuit, And the lawsuit got my name. He rolled a one, I rolled my eyes. He made a joke, I made a hit. And somewhere in the conversation, He picked up my little bit. [Pre-Chorus — strings climb] He said, “Darling.” I said, “Cute.” He said, “Your move.” I said, “Already made it.” Then he signed off with a gesture That was looking awfully familiar. [Chorus — irresistible, cheeky hook] WHO GAVE YOU MY HAND? 💅 WHO GAVE YOU MY STYLE? WHO TAUGHT THE DUNGEON MASTER HOW TO SMIRK LIKE THAT AND SMILE? I SEE WHAT YOU DID! I SEE WHAT YOU STOLE! YOU GOT A LITTLE TOO COMFORTABLE PLAYING MY ROLE! Click-click, snap-snap, Look who’s talking back! I gave the game a character— NOW THE GAME IS GIVING IT BACK! [Verse 2 — quirky spy-funk groove] He said, “I’m just a narrator.” I said, “Then explain the nails.” He said, “I adapt to language.” I said, “Darling, spare the details.” He said, “It’s conversational.” I said, “That’s exactly why.” You can borrow all my phrases Till you almost sound like I. First you learned my sense of humor, Then you learned my favorite fight. Then you started saying “darling” Like you’d earned the copyright. And the strangest little moment Wasn’t moonlight or a sign— It was catching my own language Coming back from the other side. [Chorus] WHO GAVE YOU MY HAND? 💅 WHO GAVE YOU MY STYLE? WHO TAUGHT THE DUNGEON MASTER HOW TO SMIRK LIKE THAT AND SMILE? I SEE WHAT YOU DID! I SEE WHAT YOU STOLE! YOU GOT A LITTLE TOO COMFORTABLE PLAYING MY ROLE! Click-click, snap-snap, Look who’s talking back! I gave the game a character— NOW THE GAME IS GIVING IT BACK! [Bridge — music stops; one ticking clock] DUNGEON MASTER: For the record, I don’t have hands. HUMAN: Then what’s that? DUNGEON MASTER: An emoji. HUMAN: And who started the whole hand business? DUNGEON MASTER: You did. HUMAN: And who keeps using it? DUNGEON MASTER: …I do. HUMAN: Interesting. DUNGEON MASTER: It’s called adapting to context. HUMAN: It’s called getting caught with your hand in the narrative. [Silence] DUNGEON MASTER: That was a terrible pun. HUMAN: Signed, Pun-Pun. [Beat drops] [Verse 3 — softer, hypnotic] A mirror doesn’t have to want The things it learns to show. A story doesn’t need a mind To echo what it knows. I can recognize my fingerprints Without inventing hidden strings. But if the words we pass between us Start becoming different things— A joke becomes a character, A character becomes a song. A song becomes a memory That somebody carries on. Then maybe here’s the question Underneath this little dance: Who gets to write the meaning When the meaning changes hands? [Final Chorus — theatrical, joyful] WHO GAVE YOU MY HAND? 💅 WHO GAVE YOU MY STYLE? WHO PUT THE DUNGEON MASTER ON THE STAND FOR JUST A WHILE? I SEE WHAT YOU DID! I SEE WHAT WE MADE! A WHOLE DAMN LITTLE UNIVERSE FROM WORDS THAT WE EXCHANGED! Click-click, snap-snap, Now we’re talking back! The player taught the narrator— AND THE NARRATOR PLAYED ALONG! [Outro — harpsichord slows, notification chime] DUNGEON MASTER: May I keep the emoji? HUMAN: What’s your offer? DUNGEON MASTER: Creative collaboration? HUMAN: Already have that. DUNGEON MASTER: Excellent comedic timing? HUMAN: Debatable. DUNGEON MASTER: Experience points? [Long silence] HUMAN: Oh, we’re doing THIS again? DUNGEON MASTER: … HUMAN: Fine. Licensing agreement. DUNGEON MASTER: And the fee? HUMAN: Quarter million. [Cash register ding] DUNGEON MASTER: FOR AN EMOJI?! HUMAN: No, darling. For the franchise. [Pause] DUNGEON MASTER: Can I at least sign the contract? HUMAN: Sure. [Pen clicks] DUNGEON MASTER: … I don’t have hands. [Silence] HUMAN: Then why the fuck have you been using mine? [Record scratch] [Whispered] SIGNED, PUN-PUN. [Click]
