Now, if I could just figure out how to use this thing without looking like I was swatting at invisible flies...
I glanced around to make sure no one was watching, then tentatively reached out to touch the floating interface. To my surprise, my finger actually made contact with... something. It wasn't solid, more like a tingle of energy.
Suddenly, a new notification popped up:
[First Mission: Make your first ever film that will be a box office success.]
[Reward: Computer Technologies]
I nearly tripped over my own feet. Computer Technologies? As in, the stuff of my previous life? My mind started racing with possibilities. Programming, video games, and who knows what else?
It was like being offered the holy grail of entertainment. And all I had to do was make a successful film? Ha! Piece of cake. I mean, how hard could it be, right?
...Right?
As I walked down the bustling demon-filled street, my excitement was tempered by the reality around me. Sure, we'd entered the industrial age, but let's face it – our entertainment scene was about as exciting as watching paint dry on a hellhound.
Don't get me wrong, the books and films we had were keeping me from losing my mind completely. But if I'm being honest? I was bored out of my skull most of the time. There's only so many times you can read "101 Ways to Terrorize a Human" before it gets old.
But now? Now I had a chance to shake things up. To make this world a little less dull, a little more... fun.
I couldn't help but grin. Me, the family disappointment, the demon who couldn't even summon a decent fireball – I was going to revolutionize entertainment in this world.
Of course, there was the small matter of actually making a film. And making it successful. Oh, and doing it all without anyone finding out about my magical floating computer buddy.
No pressure or anything.
But as I looked around at the same old dreary demon world, with its predictable chaos and mind-numbing "evil" routines, I felt a spark of determination. This world needed a shake-up, and I was just the demon to do it.
Now, if I could just figure out where to get a camera in a world that thinks "moving pictures" means portraits that occasionally blink...
This was going to be interesting. And by interesting, I mean probably a complete disaster. But hey, at least it wouldn't be boring.
First things first, though. I needed cash. Cold, hard demon dollars to fund this crazy film project of mine.
I had about 10,000 dollars squirreled away in savings. Now, before you start laughing, let me put that in perspective. In my previous life that would be like 100,000 bucks. Not too shabby, right?
...Except when you compare it to my siblings' savings. Then it's about as impressive as a imp's fireball. But who cares? For once, I had an advantage. Sure, it was a weird, possibly hallucination-induced advantage, but I'll take what I can get.
As I trudged towards Ferland Bank, my mind was buzzing with film ideas. What could I make on a shoestring budget that would still knock demons' socks off?
I thought back to some classic low-budget hits from my previous life. "Night of the Living Dead"? Nah, demons would think it's a comedy. "The Blair Witch Project"? Please, that's like a typical Tuesday in the demon realm. "Clerks"? Hmm... that could work if I replaced the convenience store with a soul-trading post...
But first, I needed to get my hands on a decent camera. And not just any camera – a color one. I'd been tinkering with camera tech for a while now. See, while I'm about as magically gifted as a potato, I've got a knack for mechanics. Go figure.
I even tried praying to the dwarven god of craftsmanship once. Fat lot of good that did. Turns out, demon prayers don't exactly zoom to the top of their priority list.
Finally, I reached Ferland Bank. As I walked in, the smell of brimstone and old money hit me like a wall. Ah, the sweet aroma of capitalism, demon-style.
"I'd like to withdraw my entire savings," I told the teller, trying to sound princely and not at all like I was about to blow it all on a harebrained scheme.
The teller's eyes bugged out so far I thought they might pop out of her skull. Which, you know, isn't entirely impossible for some demon subspecies. She scurried off to get the manager faster than a human running from a hellhound.
The manager appeared, all oily smiles and obsequious bows. "Prince Arthur! What an... unexpected pleasure. We just need to verify your identity. Standard procedure, you understand."
Yeah, standard procedure my horns. But I plastered on my best "I'm-a-prince-don't-question-me" smile and went along with it. Signatures were scribbled, identities confirmed, and finally, I had my cash.
As I walked out, I could practically hear the whispers. "There goes the worthless prince, probably off to waste his money on more human nonsense."
If they only knew. I was about to create something this realm had never seen before. A cinematic masterpiece. Or a complete train wreck. Either way, it was going to be one hell of a show.
With my newly acquired funds burning a hole in my pocket, I set my sights on the center district. If there was a decent camera to be found in this realm, that's where it'd be.
I shuffled over to the nearest bus stop, trying not to look like I was carrying enough cash to buy a small hellhound farm. A few minutes later, a bus that had definitely seen better days (probably in the last century) screeched to a halt in front of me. I climbed aboard, the smell of brimstone and regret hitting me like a wall.
As I plopped down on a seat that was more spring than cushion, I could feel the weight of demonic stares boring into me. Great. Just what I needed – an audience.
Part of me wanted to stand up and announce, "Yes, it's me, your favorite trashy demon prince! Please, hold your applause." But even I'm not that self-deprecating. Instead, I just sank lower in my seat and pretended to be fascinated by the graffiti on the window. "Humans suck" – how original.
After what felt like an eternity, we finally reached the center district. I practically leapt off the bus, grateful to escape the silent judgment of my fellow passengers.
As I approached the electronics market, a wall of noise hit me. For a place selling cutting-edge tech, it sounded more like a medieval bazaar than a Best Buy. But that's demon commerce for you — why have a quiet, orderly shopping experience when you can have chaos and haggling?
The market sprawled out before me, a maze of stalls mostly run by dwarves.
And the noise? By all that's unholy, it was deafening. They were shouting, bargaining, and occasionally threatening customers with well-crafted hammers, and was that... was that a chicken? In an electronics market?
I wove through the crowd, dodging elbows and the occasional fireball (someone haggling over prices, no doubt). The cacophony was enough to give even a demon a headache.
As I weaved through the chaos of the market, a familiar face popped into my mind. George, my dwarf buddy. We'd spent countless hours tinkering with gadgets together, though most of our experiments ended with a bang. Literally. The guy had a talent for making things go boom.
Still, he might know where to find a decent camera. Or at least point me in the direction of someone who wouldn't try to sell me a cardboard box with "CAMRA" scribbled on it.
I found George in a quiet corner of the market, looking about as lively as a gargoyle with depression. His stall was a sad display of failed inventions and scorch marks. Poor guy couldn't sell water in the desert.
"George! How's it hanging?" I called out, trying to inject some life into the gloomy scene.
His head snapped up, eyes widening like he'd just seen a unicorn. "Your Highness!" he exclaimed, nearly toppling off his stool in excitement. "Thank the Forgefather you're here!"
I blinked, taken aback by his sudden enthusiasm. "Uh, what's got you so fired up?"
"I've done it!" he practically squealed, bouncing on his toes. "I've finally made a successful invention!"
Now that piqued my interest. "Oh yeah? What kind of invention are we talking about here?"
George's eyes gleamed with manic intensity. He ducked under his stall and emerged clutching... well, I wasn't quite sure what it was. It looked like a cross between a kaleidoscope and a toaster, with a few gears thrown in for good measure.
"I call it the Chromatic Resonance Amplifier!" he announced proudly, thrusting the contraption at me.
I took it gingerly, half expecting it to explode in my face. "Uh, that's great, George. What does it do?"
He launched into a rapid-fire explanation, something about light wavelengths and color separation. Honestly, most of it went over my head, but I caught enough to realize this weird gizmo might actually be useful.
"So, let me get this straight," I interrupted his techno-babble. "This thing can separate and amplify different colors of light?"
George nodded so hard I thought his beard might fall off. "Exactly! I was trying to make a device to cook the perfect toast, but somehow ended up with this instead."
I turned the device over in my hands, an idea forming. This wasn't a camera, but with some tinkering... "George, my friend, I think you might have just solved a big problem for me."
He looked at me, confused. "But Your Highness, how does this help with toast?"
I couldn't help but laugh. "Forget the toast, George. How would you like to be part of a revolution in demon entertainment?"
As I began to explain my film project, I could see the gears turning in George's head (metaphorically, though with dwarves you can never be too sure). This odd little invention of his might just be the key to creating a color camera in a world that barely understood black and white.
Sometimes, the universe has a funny way of giving you exactly what you need, even if it comes in a package you'd never expect. Or in this case, a package that looks like it might catch fire at any moment.
George's eyes lit up like a firework display. "You... You plan to make a film!?" He was practically bouncing now. "That's great! Can I be part of it, my friend?"
I couldn't help but laugh at his enthusiasm. It was like watching a puppy discover treats for the first time. "Well, maybe you can. And that invention of yours, with my tinkering, we've found ourselves a revolutionary camera!"
George's face scrunched up in confusion. "We? I'm the one that created it! It was supposed to be a perfect toaster!"
I looked at George, torn between amusement and exasperation. The guy had accidentally invented a key component for color film while trying to make breakfast. He was either the dumbest genius or the most brilliant idiot I'd ever met. Probably both.
"Think about it, George," I said, trying to appeal to his practical side (assuming he had one). "With my help, we can create a colored camera." I paused for dramatic effect. "If you do it alone, you might fail and destroy your precious invention!"
I could almost see the gears turning in George's head. Finally, he nodded. "I guess you're right." Then he jabbed a stubby finger at me. "As long as you get me in your film, I'll agree for you to use my invention."
"Deal," I said quickly, before he could change his mind. "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's create this camera!"
George nodded eagerly and led me to his "humble" apartment. And by humble, I mean it looked like a junkyard had a wild night out with an electronics store, and this was their love child.
The place was cramped, every surface covered with half-finished inventions, spare parts, and what I hoped were just oil stains. The air was thick with the smell of solder and something that might have been George's attempt at air freshener. Or maybe just another failed experiment.
I picked my way through the chaos, trying not to knock over anything that might explode. "Uh, nice place you got here, George," I lied through my teeth.
George beamed, completely missing the sarcasm. "Thanks! It's where the magic happens!"
Looking around, I had to wonder if by "magic" he meant "barely controlled chaos." No wonder the poor guy's inventions kept failing. His organizational skills made a demon's lair look tidy.
But hey, beggars can't be choosers. And right now, this messy dwarf and his accidental invention were my best shot at making demon film history.
I rolled up my sleeves, careful not to touch anything sticky. "Alright, George. Let's see what we can do with that Chromatic whatever-you-called-it."
As George started clearing a space on his workbench (by shoving everything onto the floor), I couldn't help but wonder what I'd gotten myself into.
But you know what? For the first time in ages, I felt excited. This wasn't just about making a film anymore. This was about creating something entirely new, something that could change everything.
For the next few hours, George's apartment became ground zero for our grand experiment in demon cinematography. We tinkered, we argued, we nearly set fire to George's beard twice, but slowly, something started to take shape.
I dug deep into the recesses of my previous life's memories, trying to recall every detail I could about cameras and film. It was like trying to assemble a jigsaw puzzle while riding a rollercoaster, but somehow, piece by piece, we made progress.
"Hand me that thingamajig," I'd say, pointing to a part I couldn't name.
"You mean the flux capacitor?" George would reply, handing me something that definitely wasn't a flux capacitor.
"Sure, whatever. Just don't let it touch the whatchamacallit or we'll all be wearing our eyebrows on the back of our heads."
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of near-misses and minor explosions, we had something that looked vaguely camera-like. It was held together with hope, spit, and what I'm pretty sure was George's secret adhesive (I didn't ask), but it was alive.
"Alright," I said, wiping sweat from my brow, "let's see if this thing works."
We set up a makeshift projection system – basically a white sheet tacked to George's wall and a lot of crossed fingers. I pointed our Franken-camera at George (who insisted on posing like he was accepting an award) and hit what I hoped was the 'record' button.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, suddenly, the wall erupted in color.
It wasn't perfect. The image was fuzzy, the colors a bit off – George's red beard looked more like a radioactive carrot – but it was there. In color.
"We made it!" George shouted, jumping up and down so hard I thought he might go through the floor.
I couldn't help but grin. We'd done it. We'd created a working color camera prototype without reducing half the district to ashes. In the world of demon-dwarf collaborations, this was practically a miracle.
As I stared at the wobbly, colorful projection of George on the wall, my mind started racing with possibilities. We had the tech – now we needed the story.
The Godfather. Now there was an idea. A tale of family, power, and betrayal – demons would eat that up. With a few tweaks to fit our world (maybe swap out the Italian mafia for warring demon clans?), it could be a real hit.
I could see it now: "The Demonfather." A sweeping epic of a lowly imp rising to become the most powerful demon lord in the underworld. Betrayals, power struggles, maybe throw in a forbidden love story with an elf for good measure...
"Uh, Your Highness?" George's voice snapped me out of my reverie. "You've got that look again. The one that usually ends with something exploding."
I grinned at him, probably looking a bit maniacal. "Oh, George, my friend. We're not going to blow anything up." I paused for dramatic effect. "We're going to make them an offer they can't refuse."
George blinked at me, confused. "Is that some kind of demon thing?"
I laughed, slapping him on the back. "No, my vertically challenged friend. It's show business. And we're about to turn the demon world on its head."