BtVS by Whedon and Mutant Enemy. The open-source rogue-like game this based on, and some of the text is pulled from, is freely available at rephial dot org. Not a straight cross with the real product, more like a visualization of how things might work.
Meeting Iceflame's "The Chosen Two/Video Game" Challenge at Twisting the Hellmouth.
With a start, Buffy found herself in a black featureless expanse with no real separation between the floor and the sky. She wasn't exactly sure if there was a floor. "Hello?" she asked.
After a second, she realized she hadn't made a sound. It took her that long to notice because the letters H-e-l-l-o and a question mark flowing from her lips to hang in space proved a pretty potent distraction.
She stared at the symbols, wide-eyed, until they popped like soap bubbles.
A glance at her hand was enough to tell that she wasn't in her own body anymore. There was a thin, transparent skin of flowing lines and beneath that... only emptiness.
Touching her vaguely humanoid - somehow undefined - hands together, she watched in amazement as the white bits of light that made up her shell flowed seamlessly from one hand to the other as if there was no separation between them.
Somehow she'd been transformed into something made entirely out of little '℗' shapes.
"What am I?" she asked silently.
Are you male or female?
"Uh," she said, examining the text that had appeared in mid-air. "Female."
What race are you?
"Caucasian. Oh. Is this... This is D&D or something? Ooh. Pretty '&' sign... Okay, Buffy is concentrating. Human. Wait... Why do I feel smaller than I did a second ago?"
What is your class?
"English? Umm... Fighter? Slayer?"
"Right. I could have been something besides human? Could I start over?"
"No, I'm good. Warrior."
Your choice of character generation. Point-based is recommended.
c) Standard roller
"Uh... Standard sounds easy enough."
Rows of numbers and letters suddenly swirled around and through Buffy, somehow changing her shell.
She closed her eyes against the bombardment, frowning. "Uh, I feel dumb and kind of... weak... this isn't right."
Another stream flowed through her, changing more. When she felt like herself again, the familiar tenseness that said she was one of the strongest people around thrumming through her system, she opened her eyes.
There was a massive wall of text in front of her, but the bit at eye level read:
You are one of several children of a Serf. You are the black sheep of the family. You have green eyes, straight brown hair, and an average complexion.
She grabbed a lock of her newly formed hair and examined it closely. "Right..." The strands were made of the same '℗' characters as the rest of her, an undifferentiated pale white. "Whatever you say."
Is this acceptable?
What is your name?
Want to go back a step or start over completely?
"No, I'm good."
Welcome Buffy Summers... To Angband.
The world swirled and suddenly there was a floor beneath her feet.
The floor was made up of featureless round dots and the squat building next to her was a pulsing mass of tic-tac-toe grids.
"Great," she said, examining her surroundings. "This is not of the good. Ooh, I've got some kind of fancy wristband that tells me about myself... Why on Earth am I a 'Rookie'?"