I, Charlie Smith, unlocked a great gift—perhaps a curse—when I got hit with a Sega Genesis and fell into a coma. The doctors said I'd never wake up, but I did, and got my gift.
Pro: I got a system about Sonic the Hedgehog!
Score!
Con: It's about different types of Sonic OC's.
Damn.
This wasn't just any Sonic multiverse bullshit—it was a full-blown early Archie Comics disaster, complete with convoluted timelines, robotized Mobians, and a dozen Robotnik family variants who couldn't decide if they were mad scientists or Saturday morning cartoon villains.
The first page was about the most famous type of Sonic OC: Cinos/Zero/Sonic or Scourge the Hedgehog 'Clone'.
You know, the type of OC that looks exactly like Sonic The Hedgehog but different colors and has at least one additional power except his signature speed and was an alternate version/kid/alternate version/clone of Sonic or Scourge or just happened to look just like them.
The second page was about the next type of OC: the Shadow The Hedgehog clone.
Tragic backstory involving genocide and/or amnesia? Double-check. And of course, they always had to be "edgier" than Shadow himself—like someone took his brooding dial and cranked it to eleven while blasting Linkin Park through a busted GameXream speaker.
I flipped to the third page, my headache worsening. The next OC of the third S hedgehog: Venice. Always based on the Sonic '06 concept art of the same name.
A clone of Silver? An alternate version of him? His Anti version? A descendant? An Ancestor? A split personality? Who knows! All I knew was that Venice always had yellow-brown chest fur and blue eyes and pure white fur everywhere else.
Then there was the fourth page. Of course. The first female one. The Blaze The Cat rival/counterpart/clone—though calling her "Blaze-adjacent" would be generous. Her name was almost always Blizzard or Blister , something painfully on-the-nose, with purple flames and an attitude that screamed "I'm cooler than you" while tripping over her own tail.
*"Hedgehogs may hog the spotlight,"* the Archie-style narration box declared, *"but this icy-hot feline's got claws—and she's not afraid to freeze the competition!"
Ow the edge.
I flipped to the next page to the first (usually)!human OC type: The Robotnik family member who was usually Ivo 'Eggman' Robotnik's kid, male or female, usually human but sometimes Mobian via experiment or magic bullshit. Of course, they almost always had to be morally ambiguous—like someone shoved Dr. Eggman and Shadow into a teleporter and fused their worst traits into one smug, monologuing gremlin with a god complex.
*"MEET ______ ROBOTNIK—the twisted prodigy who makes thier 'Uncle Ivo' look like a daycare teacher!"* the narration screeched in that trademark Archie Sonic font, complete with jagged edges and misplaced exclamation points. The blank space pulsed ominously, as if daring me to fill it with some cringeworthy OC name like "Ivan the Terribnik" or "Eggatha."
I groaned, rubbing my temples as the pages kept flipping themselves—because *of course* this cursed manual had dramatic autonomy. The next spread was a full-page splash panel of some knockoff Robotnik descendant mid-monologue, their ridiculously spiked hair defying gravity while their robot minions posed in the background like rejected Power Rangers villains. The caption bubble read: *"Foolish Freedom Fighters! You think you've seen despair? I'll show you TRUE horror—starting with your own REFLECTIONS!"*
My stomach lurched as the illustration shifted, revealing the "horror" in question: a hall of mirrors reflecting not the heroes, but *my own face* warped into a dozen OC abominations. There I was as a hedgehog with neon quills, a brooding hedgehog with a gun, even a goddamn *hedgehog-cat hybrid* with mismatched eyes. The final mirror showed my human self—but with Robotnik's mustache glued on.
Somewhere in the distance, I swear I heard the early *Archie Sonic* writers room cackling.
Then was the first robot: the Mobian style robot. The type that looked like a Mobian but was just a robot duplicate—sometimes a tragic prototype who didn't know they weren't real, other times a cold, calculating assassin with laser eyes and a heart of pure titanium.
This one had the classic Archie flourish: *"MEET METAL ______ —the Mecha Mockery who'll make you question what it means to be ALIVE!"* The art was pure 90s excess—chrome plating, unnecessary vents, and shoulder pads so sharp they could puncture the fourth wall.
The pages kept flipping, now landing on the *other* OC type: the Freedom Fighter recruit. Usually some wide-eyed rookie with a gimmick weapon—a slingshot that fired chaos energy, a yo-yo made of pure plasma, or, god help me, *a skateboard that turned into a sword* or was just good at everything they did.
The narration box screamed: *"ENTER SONIC'S NEWEST ALLY—but can this scrappy underdog handle the heat when Robotnik turns up the TEMPO?!"*
The following page hit me like a badnik to the face—it was the Shadow-Sonic fusion. The type that was either an artificial creation or a child somehow that managed to inherit Sonic's speed and fanon Shadow's edge, complete with their features likely being meshed together one way or another.
*"_____& GOT SONIC'S SPEED AND SHADOW'S CHAOS—BUT CAN THIS HYBRID HERO HANDLE THE ULTIMATE EDGE?!"* the page screamed in jagged, migraine-inducing font, complete with a borderline-illegible speed-line background.
Next was the glitch OC type: those that were made from glitches in the video games or scraped concepts: like a Sonic with Tails' tails, or a Knuckles with Robotnik's mustache, or some unholy abomination that looked like it crawled out of a debug menu. The page practically *vibrated* with CRT static, jagged pixels forming into a grotesque hedgehog-thing with mismatched limbs and eyes that followed you no matter how you tilted the page.
*"MEET GLITCH ____—THE ERROR THAT'LL CRASH YOUR REALITY!"* screamed the text, letters flickering between cyan and magenta like a dying Sega screen. The illustration showed a grotesque hedgehog-thing with three tails, one arm stretched into a pixelated noodle, its grin frozen in a way that made my teeth ache. A jagged thought bubble read: *"I WASN'T PROGRAMMED TO EXIST—BUT NOW THAT I DO, I'LL CORRUPT EVERYTHING!"*
The pages flipped themselves again, this time landing on the *another* OC type: Kilometers Prower. You know, instead of Miles it's Kilometers and they're either related to Tails or a Rival of his and always British.
The Archie-style narration box screamed with all the subtlety of a badnik explosion: *"MEET KILOMETERS PROWER—THE TECH-SAVVY TAILSPINNER WHO'S GOT MORE THAN JUST MILES TO GO!"*
At this point kill me.
Next page was the Terios OC type: also based on concept art but this time Shadow's. The hedgehog was jet black with red streaks and stripes, with eyes like molten lava and a smirk that promised violence—basically Shadow if he'd been dipped in Hot Topic and left to marinate in teenage angst.
Usually an attempt at cloning, maybe an earlier prototype made by Gerald Robotnik. Or another version of him in the style that Blaze is to Sonic.
The Archie narration box practically *exploded* onto the page: *"TERIOS THE HEDGEHOG—DARKER THAN SHADOW, FASTER THAN CHAOS, AND TWICE AS LIKELY TO MONOLOGUE ABOUT HIS TRAGIC BACKSTORY!"* Crimson speed lines tore through the background like claw marks, framing the OC's ridiculous design—jet-black quills with *glowing* red streaks, because subtlety was for cowards. Somewhere, a 90s guitar riff wailed in the distance.
I had to stop there before it got any worse somehow. Any more and I'd lose my last shred of sanity. The Box the said something less cringey and sensible: *"CHOSE YOUR AVATAR TYPE!"* Oh, so this was a character creator? Cool. Wait, did that mean I was stuck here? Please no.
*"CHARLIE SMITH! YOU HAVE BEEN CHOSEN TO DEFY THE WILL OF CHAOS—BUT FIRST, YOU MUST SELECT YOUR FORM!"* The narration box practically vibrated with that signature Archie Comics energy, complete with lightning bolts framing the text and a suspiciously high number of exclamation points. *"WILL YOU BE A HERO? A VILLAIN? OR SOMETHING IN BETWEEN?! THE CHOICE IS YOURS—BUT CHOOSE WISELY, FOR YOUR DECISION WILL ECHO ACROSS THE MULTIVERSE!"*
I groaned as I decide to choose the first page. I liked Sonic, so I went to the customization screen:
FUR COLOR: ????
SCLERA COLOR: ???
IRIS COLOR: ???
PUPIL COLOR: ???
SHOE COLOR: ???
GLOVE COLOR ???
SEX: MALE (FEMALE LOCKED)
CLOTHING: Y/N?
TAN AMOUNT: ???
ADDITIONAL POWER: ??? (MULTIPLE ADDITIONAL POWERS LOCKED)
LORE: ???
CHARACTER NAME: ???
The text box screamed in jagged, migraine-inducing font as my fingers hovered over the customization screen. The letters bled neon cyan and magenta, vibrating with pure 90s excess.
I decided to just go down the line and make my choice for each customization slot, my fingers hovering nervously over the options.
Fur color?
I hesitated, then tapped *"Black"*—because if I was gonna be stuck in this OC nightmare, I might as well be my favorite color . The screen *BZZT*-ed in approval, flashing an *EXTREME* lightning bolt effect that singed my eyebrows.
*"BLACK AS MIDNIGHT! BLACK AS SHADOW'S BROODING SOUL!"* the Archie—No the awfully styled narration box blared, its jagged font dripping with Comic Sans-esque intensity. *"BUT WILL THIS DARK HERO BE A FORCE FOR JUSTICE—OR A HAVEN FOR CHAOS?!"* A panel exploded beneath the text, revealing my newly minted hedgehog form mid-spindash, quills crackling with *EXTREME* energy lines that looked like they'd been drawn by a caffeinated 90s intern. The background was pure *Radical Dude* aesthetic—splattered graffiti, lens flares, and a suspiciously high number of floating chili dogs.
I blinked as then went to the three eye options. What even were sclerae? Wait, the whites of the eyes—right. Not wanting to look like some knockoff edgelord, I tapped *"White"*, then *"BLACK"* for pupil color. Iris color? Screw it—*"Purple"*, my second favorite color . The screen glitched violently, neon pixels erupting into a full-page spread of my new hedgehog self mid-super-sneer, eyes glowing with *ULTRA EXTREME* attitude.
Shoe color?
My thumb hovered between *"Red"* and *"Gold"* before jamming the latter—because if I was gonna suffer, I might as well *shine*. The screen erupted into a pixelated supernova, bathing my face in radioactive hues as the narration box *FUCKING SCREAMED AGAIN*:
*"GOLD LIKE THE DAWN OF A NEW ERA!*
Fuck my life.
Glove color?
My finger twitched toward *"Black"*—but then I realized that would look weird and all Sonic characters with gloves had white ones. So I tapped *"White"*.
Clothing?
The screen flickered violently, pixels distorting into jagged lightning bolts as a single, pulsing "Y/N" option taunted me like a badnik's mocking laughter. My finger hovered—did I *really* want to slap some dumb vest or edgy wristbands on this already-questionable hedgehog abomination?
Then again I didn't want to be practically naked either—hedgehogs weren't exactly known for their modesty—so I jammed "Y" with the grace of a drunken badnik. The screen *SCREECHED* like a feedback loop from hell as neon fabric pixels exploded outward, forming into a leather jacket with more unnecessary belts than a Final Fantasy character's closet. *"STYLE POINTS ACTIVATED!"* the narration box howled in radioactive green text, its outline vibrating with the intensity of a Sega CD cutscene.
Somewhere, a guitar solo wailed as my hedgehog self struck a pose that would make Shadow cringe—jacket flapping dramatically despite the lack of wind, golden shoes gleaming like stolen treasure. *"FASHION MEETS FURY AS OUR DARK HERO STEPS INTO THE SPOTLIGHT!"* the text box screamed, its jagged letters bleeding neon purple. I half-expected a crowd of badly-drawn NPCs to start cheering, but all I got was the distant sound of Penders scribbling fanfiction.
Tan amount?
The slider pulsed mockingly, labeled "FROM MILKY MOBIAN TO DESERT-BAKED BANDICOOT." My finger twitched—did I *really* want to look like I'd been marinating in Eggman's tanning ray?
Screw it.
I cranked it over three fourths of the way to the level of Shadow, Silver and Rouge in the official 2D art by Yuji Uekawa and Kazuyuki Hoshino.
Additional power?
The screen *BLARED* with a pixelated explosion of options:
Teleportation?
If I could run at the speed of sound this wasn't fully redundant but was close.
Sonokinesis?
The ability to control sound? Not bad especially with Sonic being derived from the Latin word for sound.
But I had to see more options just in case.
Aerokinesis?
Again, on theme with Sonic being 'like the wind'—control over air could lead to some gnarly mid-run tornado spins or vacuum punches.
But I still had to see more options.
Werehog Transformation?
Hmm. A type of super strength that allowed me to not sleep.
Interesting.
Pyrokinesis?
Too Blaze-adjacent.
Electrokinesis?
Too Surge-adjacent.
Chaos Magic?
After a while (Almost definitely too long) I settled in one of three options.
1. Sonokinesis
2. Werehog Transformation
3. Photographic Reflexes
Controlling sounds, being a werewolf, or mimicking fighting styles?
Hmmm.
Thinking about it being a Werehog would require me to have a pure heart so I don't go crazy, which I don't have, I didn't think of myself as an asshole but I wasn't a saint either.
Copying other peoples fighting styles or controlling sounds?
Eeny, meeny, miny, moe,
Catch a tiger by the toe.
If he hollers, let him go,
Since he, is, it.
My fingers hovered over the option I landed on when I went in blind luck and landed on...
Photographic Reflexes.
That works.
Second last was lore, and there was no skip or no button—just a blank text field pulsing like a badnik's dying spark.
The narration box *SHRIEKED* in jagged crimson font: *"DARK HERO'S ORIGIN AWAITS—WILL HE BE A LOST PROTOTYPE? A DIMENSION-HOPPING ROGUE? OR SOMETHING WORSE?!"*
My fingers trembled as I typed—*"Former human, dimensionally displaced, system-abused freak show"*—but the screen glitched violently at that so much I started to bleed for a second.
Okay, not doing that again.
I typed something I thought could cover the bases: He is Sonic's Descendent (To explain. Why we look identical and I can run fast) from 100 years in the future (to explain why someone like Silver doesn't know me) and was sent from the future to the past (To explain why in that time) However, in the middle of the journey, something went wrong (To explain why my destination was changed and I got here), making me lose my memories (To explain why I know very little about his 'past').
The screen dinged when I finished typing , accepting my bullshit backstory with all the grace of a malfunctioning Metal Sonic.
Last bust definitely not least was the name:
*"S_______ The Hedgehog"* pulsed mockingly on-screen, the blank line taunting me like Robotnik's unfinished death ray. My fingers twitched—this was it. The final step before plunging headfirst into this glitch-ridden, OC-laden hellscape. Did I go edgy? Classic? Something so stupid it looped back to brilliance? The pixels *SCREECHED* impatiently, neon static crawling up my arms like digital ivy.
*"ENTER S_____ THE HEDGEHOG—A HERO FORGED IN CHAOS, BORN IN SHADOW, AND READY TO SPINDASH STRAIGHT INTO YOUR HEART!"* the narration box *HOWLED*, its letters vibrating with the intensity of a Genesis sound test gone wrong. Crimson speed lines tore through the background, framing my hedgehog's *EXTREME* pose—golden sneakers grinding against a loop-de-loop that defied physics, jacket tails flapping despite the vacuum of space. Somewhere, a guitar solo *SCREECHED* into existence, its notes dripping with enough cheese to choke a badnik.
I hesitated—my finger hovering between "Solstice" (too off theme), "Sprocket" (too dumb), and "Sonic" (too obvious). Then, with the grace of a drunken badnik, I jammed in "*Savant*"—because if this nightmare was gonna break me, I might as well sound pretentious doing it. The screen *ERUPTED* into a pixelated mess.
Next thing I knew I was looking at myself...