Somewhere deep within the bowels of a research facility whose name and location have been “accidentally” blacked out (think Area 51 meets a Chuck E. Cheese after hours with less than stellar security), three delightfully bumbling scientists manage to do the unthinkable: they open a universal portal.
We’re talking full multiverse meltdown—glitchy physics, coffee mugs floating midair, and at least one intern who now only speaks in Top Gun quotes. Just call him ‘Viper’ and laugh at his jokes and it’s all good.
Among the swirling chaos and accidental dimensional leakage, one peculiar object tumbles into our reality: a sleek, blinking device that scientists have lovingly nicknamed the “What If Machine.”
What does it do?
Imagine a sandbox crossed with a 1980s arcade cabinet and the raw creative potential of a sleep-deprived dungeon master. You turn it on, choose (or build) a reality, dive in headfirst, wreak total narrative havoc, and hop back out—no consequences, no mess, no therapist required.
It’s like VR, but with fewer cables and more existential flexibility. One moment, you’re in your living room and then the next you’re living in the Middle Ages and fighting the Crusades.
Honestly? I shouldn’t have been anywhere near this government-grade multiverse destabilizing device. But that’s what cutbacks in government spending get you. Lack of security.
I was visiting a shady friend—the kind of guy who sells vintage Happy Meal toys out of a trench coat, drinks expired Ecto Cooler and swears he once “ghostwrote” the script for Short Circuit 2. We were, let’s say, doing something incredibly dumb involving a drone and trying to hotwire a popcorn machine.
While sneaking around a very off-limits corridor (because of course we were), we stumbled into a dusty, humming chamber that looked like a RadioShack and a Stargate had a baby. There, surrounded by tangled wires, Mountain Dew cans, and what may have been a sleeping raccoon, was the machine.
The What If Machine™. At least that’s what we called it.
Naturally, like any two responsible adults, we pushed all the buttons and heeded no warnings.
To our surprise—and slight horror—the machine booted up like a cursed Atari and asked us a simple question:
“Would you like to create your own universe?”
We looked at each other.
We looked at the screen.
And without hesitation, we hit YES.
“Would you like to read the terms of service?”
We looked at each other.
We looked at the screen.
And without hesitation, we hit NO.
But where should we go?
Let’s get our freak on. After inputing some random answers, we came up with an epic beauty.
Welcome to Timeline 928Q-Peach, the machine chirped from somewhere above us.
Genre: 1980s Sci-Fi Action Romance
Hero Upload Complete: MATT BERRY SELECTED
Core Traits: Deadpan. Dangerous. Overly Literate.
Once we hit “YES,” the screen flickered like a haunted Etch A Sketch. We were suddenly surrounded by a whirlwind of lights, sounds, and a strange smell that can only be described as ozone mixed with Axe Body Spray and regret.
And just like that—he appeared.
Clad in a rumpled leather jacket and glinting under neon lights, Matt Berry’s version of the T-800 strutted out of the shadows. But this wasn’t your average killbot. No, no. This one recited Keats before kicking down a door. His weapon of choice? A sawed-off shotgun… and a single red rose that somehow doubled as a high-yield explosive.
“I am the thorn in fate’s bouquet,” he said, mid-stride, “sent to prune the future’s foolhardy foliage.”
I cried. My shady friend tried to hug him. Berry-Nator politely declined with a roundhouse kick to a garbage can.
Thinking this was a bit too real, we decide to hop out and create a similar world. This time a world where the Terminator movie franchise didn’t exist and we would make it….with Matt Berry.
It was going to be much more enjoyable if we recreated the movie and watched it rather than live it. Kinda lazy, I know, but way more fun. And awesome.
🦾 MATT BERRY as The Berry-Nator
Clad in black leather and exuding the gravitas of a Shakespearean toaster oven, Matt Berry was the Terminator—but rewritten by a thesaurus and a baritone saxophone.
With a glowing red eye and a bouquet of incendiary roses, he whispered lines like:
“Come with me… if you desire poetic closure.”
He didn’t just shoot. He monologued. He didn’t walk. He sauntered. This was a Terminator who killed with style and for love.
AMY SEDARIS as Sarah Connor
The resistance leader you didn’t know you needed. A cupcake-slinging chaos commander with a flamethrower apron, Sandy Conner was part diner waitress, part demolition expert, all unhinged maternal energy.
She didn’t run from Skynet. She called it “honey,” slapped it with a muffin tin, and told it to clean its room.
ANDY SAMBERG as Kyle Reese (of the Backwards Hat Brigade)
The time-traveling soldier with the heart of a confused Labrador. Kyle tripped through the timeline like he was looking for his vape, but still managed to somehow save the day, mostly by accident.
He showed up yelling “Bro, where’s the timeline settings menu?!” and ended up in a shootout using a foam baseball bat and blind luck.
The Movie? A Glorious Mess.
There’s a nightclub scene where Matt Berry slow-dances with a malfunctioning soda machine.
There’s a training montage that ends with Amy Sedaris high-fiving a toaster.
There’s a climactic moment where a single rose detonates an entire Skynet facility. No explanation. No physics. Just art.
And yes—someone does get hit in the face with a flaming pogo stick. That’s just cinema, baby.
🎞️ I Even Found the VHS
I wish I could bring it back with me. The box was epic. The tagline?
“He came from the future… with poetry and bullets.”
Tell me that doesn’t make you want to rewind reality and watch it again.
If anyone needs me, I’ll be in Timeline 928Q-Biscuit, where Predator is just a baking show hosted by Jean-Claude Van Damme.
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