EDIT:
Holy crap that's more Viz than I thought it would be.
And again, before you read: I used Viz as the noun cause it sounded better than vizzed. lol. No offense to the Vizzed name, but the "ed" at the name makes it sound wonky the way I'm using it
http://mangepic.deviantart.com/art/The-Successor-Chapters-1-through-5-580317682?ga_submit_new=10%253A1451116089
Before you read:
This is my one and only submission for the vizzed writing competition
If you look what you're seeing comment below asking for more, and I will write more.
As with everything I write, I write with purpose. I write brain food and I make it chewy (star wars pun XD ) , so this gonna take some thought and time to digest. 
Think about this: What would happen to Vizzed if Davideo7 no longer existed?
And yes this is Vizzed themed, it's just one big metaphor
And yes, I'm pretty sure my story is child appropiate.
And definitely longer than 300 words. I hope. May have miscounted.
And I copied and pasted from a word document and it messes up the indenting and formatting and the Vizzed post/thread typing thingy majig is messed up for me (doesn't do the blinking line thing, just highlights what ever I click) so I'll upload this to Deviant art, post it here and you can read there. But Im just posting here in case there are lazy people and for the competition and the viz
I'll try my best to fix it so forgive any errors.
And notice any references or easter eggs?

Chapter 1: Alastair
   The bell struck twelve times as Alastair walked up the cracked and aged concrete
steps, the ground cold and frozen over, chilling his feet through the soles of
his shoes.
         Born from a rich family, Alastair had absolutely everything
a boy could want in the 21st century,  from toys, to food, personal servants, and a
personal space that matched the size of some houses of the middle class,
including his bedroom, a personal playroom (filled to the brim with the latest,
shiniest, toys that money could get his hands on), two bathrooms, and a small
yard for him to get some sunshine on the seldom days on which he dared to
venture out from his room. From an early age he would delight in the attention
he received from his very own dozen or so staff, deluging in the piles of
wondrous toys and contraptions, some, made specifically for him. And for the
first half of his life he was content in that large mansion, worthy of being
called a palace, with his beloved staff, especially his nursemaid Alice. She
taught him to walk, to speak, to dress himself, and even going as far too
personally teaching him how to play the piano, something he had always been
fascinated by since an early age. But at the age of 7, as heir to his family’s
large shipping business, which dominated over all other competition, he had
responsibilities, or so his father called them, to attend too, a part of which
included becoming more independent and self-reliant. And thus, as a result his
beloved nursemaid, and the rest of his staff were sent off without a chance to
say a good-bye, forever paining young Alastair, who had wished to play the
Beethoven piece that he had been diligently working on as a farewell to his
friend Alice.  For the next 7 years he grew and learned in solitude, forbidden from leaving the residence, with no one
to keep company with except his new tutor, a skinny, greasy man with a constant
frown upon his face that would make the most optimistic of people feel like
they had just witnessed the mass genocide of all puppies and kittens right in
front of their very faces. But worse, believe or not (after all, what could be
worse than the death of cute animals? Humans you say? Nonsense at least the
planet would be dying slower if we died off. Now hush, and let me get on with
the story). Alastair dreaded every single trip to him, every single lesson was
cold, and emotionless. A bunch of facts memorized only to be omitted out for a
test and then forgotten. As he grew older however he grew sicker and sicker of
the life he was living. Sitting alone in his room playing with toy after toy.
         And so, on the day he turned 14, he packed up his possessions, put own his
shoes, and thought to himself; no more, I
shall no longer be chained by the bonds of my lame and greedy parents, blinded by
their lack of feelings and emotions, too busy that they probably won’t notice
me gone from the home, large as it is. And true to his thought, his parents
continued their socializing, money making, and business without noticing his
disappearance. And so he ran from his home, for hours and hours before he
stopped. Suddenly. In front of a peculiar house, that was indescribable, as if
it were preventing his mind from assessing it and taking in the detail. No, he thought to himself, it’s rather like, the house itself is
shifting, constantly changing, so that my brain can’t take it in fast enough.
The only thing that stood out to him was that this house was old. Like it had
existed since the very beginning of time. The house itself was alluring almost,
drawing him in, and beckoning him to knock on the door.
         And thus finding himself the position in which we stopped
at before. Standing cold, with his meager possessions (however, with greats
amount of paper notes), making his way to the ominous door of the mysterious
house. And as he walked closer, he noticed an inscription on the worn, faded, door,
spiraling from the well-used, wooden doorknob, to the very edges of the door
where it suddenly stopped. And for some strange reason, a word from the midst
of what seemed to be gibberish, stood out to him.
         And that word, was Viz.
Chapter 2: The Door, The
Knob, and The Turn That Was Somewhere Between Right and Left But Not Straight.
         It was in the late game of a friendly chess match between David and Bart when David heard that fated knock on the
door that would inevitably change his life and The House of Viz. Pondering
which of the regulars this could be, he slowly got up from his chair, grabbing
the shotgun that hung from the rack above the wood burning fireplace to his
right. With a guess of who was at the door, he planned on playing a friendly
prank on the guest, a carrying the ongoing prank war that they had been doing
for quite some time.
         “Hold on Bert, I have a bit of business to attend to. Would
you prepare the revolver in case I need it?” requested David.
         “Sure thing, want the knife too?”
         “Sure. Why not.”
         As he reached the door, after taking 2 right turns, a left
turn and The Turn That Was Somewhere Between Right And Left But Not Straight
(or so the regulars called it), he reached The Door (nicknamed that after no
one could seem to describe it), and reached for The Knob (again, named due to a
lack of, well, the ability to describe it), slowly pressing the button that
would allow people on the other side to open The Door, assuming that The Knob
permitted them to. The door slowly crept open as the person gripping The Knob
finally gained the confidence to test if the door was locked. David jumped out
at the knocker, screaming obscene words (which shall not be repeated here),
pointing the useless antique shotgun (though it was impossible to tell the
difference from a real one) at the very scared and shocked person.
         And to his surprise, the person who he had just shouted
very rude words at, pointed a shotgun at, and almost flipped off, was not his
friend Tristan, a maniac that was obsessed the ancient art of rune magic, but
young 14 year old boy, who had just wet himself, out of sheer fear, shock and
surprise.
         Dropping the assortment of weapons he was carrying he quickly
reacted to the strange scene unfolding, silently cursing himself in his
thoughts. As an omnipotent narrator, I could tell you those thoughts, but I
think you’d rather not have your brain scarred for life.
         The boy, who had been frozen in shock up until now, pants
dripping wet, collapsed, right into the arms of the now panicked David, who now
had to deal with a boy whom he knew nothing about. Coming to the obvious
conclusion that the boy should be brought inside and given a fresh change of
clothes, he called for Bert to clean up the rather ominous yellow puddle that
was slowly dripping down the slightly slanted stairs.
         “Bert, would you come here, I have matters to attend to and
I spilled a bit of lemonade, could you clean it up?” asked David.
         “Sure thing, but this counts as your
loss for chess,” Bert replied
         “No problem,” said David, knowing that he had gotten the
better end of the deal. He quickly walked away to his office before Bert could
notice the lemonade was rather funny smelling, and not actually lemonade.
Oh dear, now what am
I to do with this boy, he thought to himself.
Chapter 3: Paprika
         “Where the bloody hell am I?” inquired Alastair, as he
surveyed the extravagant office, with its polished oak chairs, the beautiful
glass topped desk, and the wood burning fireplace to right.
         “You’re in The House of Viz, now hurry up and get changed,
you’ve wet yourself and I don’t want you getting my office dirty,” replied
David.
         “And what the heck is The House of Viz? I’ve never heard of
it before.”
         “Of course you haven’t, here, I’ll explain as you put on those
jeans. There, that’s good. Anyways… The House of Viz is one of the 100 Houses
of Good, each a branch of the House of Light, each house representing a
different ideal, and responsible for teaching students who go on to The House
of Light, which rules over the Houses of Good, their respective ideal. In order
to become a member of The House of Light, gaining complementary health
insurance benefits and a free two day spa vacation at The House of Light’s
personal island, you must complete the trials set by the Houses of Good. The
House of Light is a very important group, responsible for maintaining the world
and making sure nothing majorly wrong happens, such as the super-volcano a few
years ago, the swarm of alien ships last week, and MacDonald’s new item on the
dollar menu that would’ve been released last week, luckily of course we stopped
it. The House of Viz has the responsibility of Fun, and recently given to us,
Knowledge. Although so far, we mostly of have knowledge about fun and games,
because that’s what we used to specialize in… We also hold the annual House
Wars competition where we play all sorts of games, such as, and not limited to,
dodgeball, football, football, golf, Don’t-Touch-The-Spike-Covered-In-Highly-Toxic-And-Definitely-Deadly-Substance(s),
and my favorite, DuckTapeBall© which involves ducks, tape, and balls! Would you
like some paprika flavored Pringles? My assistant left them here and I don’t
really like the flavor.”
         Alastair was shocked to say the least, and very, very, very
confused. He slowly got up, left through the office door, trying to leave. He
went through The Turn That Was Somewhere Between Right And Left But Not
Straight, only to find himself in front of the office with David staring
chuckling quietly. Glaring back, Alastair attempted to take the turn again.
Again with no results.
         453 attempts later, Alastair realized the fact that
something was strange about this house, and that he wasn’t getting out anytime
soon.
         And so he went back into the office.
Chapter 4: Death
         After the 20th explanation Alastair had finally
started to comprehend the words that came out of David’s mouth. Never the less
he was still in a state of confusion while David showed him around The House.
         The first stop was The Game Room, there people of all sorts
of ages, ethnicity, and gender (the humanoid race called Sorioans, had 15
genders in their species, and there were 20 different species, each with at
least 2 genders, in The Game Room). The shelves along the walls were stacked
with games of all sorts, from classic board games, to the latest handheld
digital devices. There was even a girl playing a handheld device that David
later told him, was a limited edition, 1942, Neon Pink Sorioan GameDoy (Doy,
being one of the 15 genders of their race). Noticing Alastair staring the girl
wave at him, winking, causing Alastair’s face to turn bright red. David
couldn’t help but laugh, as they walked down to the newly built, Viz Archives.
         As they reached the Archives, David’s phone rang, and he
left for his office. Alastair was so lost in the mountains of books that he
hardly noticed when he left, or when the girl who had winked at him arrived,
tapping on his shoulder causing him to leap up, turn around, and a trip over a
stack of books, face first into the hard wooden ground right in front of the
girl’s feet.
         “Uh, hi,” said Alastair shyly, his body quickly getting up
to avoid further embarrassment.
         “Hi, I was wondering if you’ve seen my Pringles,” inquired
the girl.
         “Uh, what?” asked Alastair.
         “My Pringles. Have. You. Seen. Them.”
         “Oh, those things, they’re in David’s office. The name’s
Alastair, what’s yours?” said Alastair, trying to seem as cool as possible.
         “I’m called Tor around these parts. By the way, your fly is
unzipped,” Tor said, causing a burst of panic in Alastair as he fumbled around
trying to fix the problem at hand. “First time here? This place is crazy at
first, but loveable once you get to know it. Just avoid the Sorioan brownies
and you’ll be find. Oh, and David’s stash of cookies is in the kitchen, above
the fridge. Also, interesting fact, did you know that this House of Viz is the
second? The first one got destroyed in the Seperation. Anyways, it was because
of that, that we have 2 ideals, The House of Miz got utterly wiped out, and
since David was a close friend of Stern, that house’s leader, he offered to
take care of the ideal until Miz could be rebuilt. I was rambling wasn’t I? My apo-
oh, another interesting fact, you might want to know this, and you might have
already figured it out, but the house is alive. The house consists of The
House, The Door, and The Knob, 3 sentient objects responsible for the security of
our house. But in my opinion, The Door is rather annoying and stuck up, The
Knob however is soooooooo nice once you get to know it. It knows a great cookie
recipe too.”
         “Uh. Wait. What? Could you slow down a bit?” said Alastair
as he struggled to keep up with the rapid flow of words streaming out of Tor’s
mouth.
         “Oh, sure just let me go grab my Pringles. Oh, and you
dropped a business card on the floor. It’s pretty sick, like the nice skull
design on it,” complimented Tor, picking up the pure black business card with a
smoky grey skull on it.
         “That’s not mine,” answered Alastair
         “Strange, I wonder whose it is. Well let’s go grab my
Pringles from David’s office. They’re my favorite flavor, paprika, and I don’t
want them going bad in that damp, dark office of David.
         And so they walked through the labyrinth of rooms and
hallways, through the crowds of people. And as they entered the office of David
Alexander-Rose Smith the 7th (his grandfather was the 6th),
that was when they saw him head down on his glass topped desk.
         Dead.

This story, it made my head hurt. Lol I mean that in a good way, oddly enough. It played with my mind and made me wonder what was going on, and what was possible or wasn't, if anything. In short, it captured the thing I love most about a good sci-fi or fantasy book. Well done. I hope you decide to post more of these.

Also unless I missed something, you skipped chapter 3. Not a big deal, I just thought you might want to fix it.

Eirinn :
Oh my. Silly mistake... I knew I was bound to make one sooner or later. Didn't  think it was be with counting from 1 to 5... I'lvl fix that right away!