Chapter 4: Game On, Voice Off

Jackson Moore is the most famous male voice actor in the dubbing world.

He’s got that golden radio voice—smooth, rich, the kind you’d hear narrating a Super Bowl commercial. In our little corner of the internet, he’s a legend.

I met him by chance in college when we were both voice acting newbies.

We shared a battered booth in the campus media lab, trading vocal warmups and instant ramen at 2 a.m. He always had my back, no matter how many times I flubbed a line.

He said indignantly:

“Hell, my Maddie’s voice is so sweet! Is Derek Lee deaf, or just looking for a fight?”

He sounded more upset than I was, which was kind of sweet in a big-brother way. Even if he was three years younger than me.

I was instantly touched, sniffling and swearing I’d cling to my bro’s leg for life.

I texted back a million heart emojis, promising to buy him BBQ the next time he was in L.A.

Before I could react, Jackson had already dragged me into a game and queued us up with Derek Lee.

My computer dinged with the invite. No warmup, no pep talk—just straight into the lion’s den.

I started fumbling with the controls.

My palms were slick on the mouse, every click echoing in my headphones. I hadn’t played this game in months. My hands were shaking so badly I could barely keep my mouse steady.

But I’m a total noob—all flash, no skill. My score was 0–5 after all my fancy moves.

The chat was relentless, but I kept trying. I could feel my cheeks burning even through the headset.

Derek Lee’s voice came through my headset, gritting his teeth:

“Uninstall. Go play on Coolmath Games if you’re that good at feeding the enemy.”

(The infamous Coolmath Games is a flash game site for kids in the U.S.—translation: go play baby games!)

For a second, I wondered if he could see the blush on my face. I tried to laugh it off, but my hands were clammy.

The chat exploded.

“Did Derek step in something before gaming tonight? His teammate is so unlucky.”

“Damn, imagine getting roasted by Derek and feeding the whole game. Pain.”

“The enemy must be another girl. Is she gonna apologize in a fake voice again?”

“Bet she’s just trying to sound cute for attention.”

Jackson was about to blow a gasket, yelling at me over the phone.

“Talk back! Why did I bring you here? If you don’t clap back, you’ll get roasted for nothing tonight!”

I pictured him pacing his bedroom, headset askew, ready to storm the studio just to defend my honor.

I got fired up and switched on my mic, but I’d only ever been scolded before, so I stammered for ages before finally squeaking out:

“So what?”

My heart was hammering, but it felt good to finally say something—anything—back.

Jackson nearly choked.

I could hear him banging his fist on his desk, probably grinning like a madman.

“Listen, repeat after me. I’ll say it, you copy.”

He cleared his throat, putting on his best tough-guy voice. I braced myself, ready for the crash course in clapbacks.

I nodded like a bobblehead and stammered along, echoing his lines:

“Did you steal my fries or just my patience?”

I couldn’t help but giggle. Even Derek Lee paused for a beat.

“If you don’t like my voice, you can log off.”

“Who asked you to talk? Why are you yelling?”

By now, the chat had gone silent, probably trying to process my sudden sass.

Just as we were getting into it, Jackson went silent.

I stared at my screen, wondering if I’d finally broken the internet—or at least Jackson’s eardrums.

I was confused. What now?

Was I supposed to say something else? Did I go too far? My nerves were frayed like old shoelaces.

I stared blankly at the screen, and then Derek Lee’s voice, suddenly awkward, came through:

“Sorry.”

There was a weird hesitation, like he’d swallowed all his bravado in one gulp.

On screen, his ears seemed a little red.

His avatar spun in circles, as if he didn’t know where to look. It was the quietest I’d ever heard him.

“Next round? Duo queue?”

For the first time, Derek Lee sounded almost...shy? My chest heaved. For once, I didn’t feel like a punching bag. My screen blurred with notifications, but all I could hear was his voice—waiting.