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11-08-2010, 07:05 PM
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#41 |
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Lakitu
Join Date: Feb 2010
Posts: 4,648
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>Activate random character development while we wait for a response.
 You are now past Aldurin. You have barely been back at your hive for an hour and you've already figured out how to wire this ancient cannon to the power distribution array in your hive. With any luck, you can figure out how to fire it and figure out what to fire at. You install the cannon on the balcony to keep your options open. >Look through telescopic apparatus for a target. You approach the telescopic apparatus, but something well within range of simply looking at catches your eye. >Look at it already. Ah yes, the imperial drone. You figure it's some kind of error in the system or something that he comes after you, but he's been strangely persistent, even continuing for several weeks. Of course you didn't let him in, that'd be stupid. You just locked the door at the base of the mountain. Then you rerouted the tunnel behind the door to lead out of the other side of the mountain and nowhere else. He still hasn't figured that out. It's been depressing to watch yet you still have to keep watching. Every time you see him he's trying something different. Right now he appears to have finally figured out that a battering ram might work.  The door, now charred and covered in shrapnel, paint and chalk (you have no idea why he did that), stands resolutely in his path. >Wave to him You wave, he waves back, then he runs headlong carrying a recently-uprooted tree with him. You silently watch as he breaks the tree into splinters on the door, blood oozing from various scratches on him. >You've had your fun. Ya, you probably have, he might become a problem if he thinks of climbing the mountain, from that point you probably wouldn't have a clear shot. >Cannon. Drone. Test run. Might as well, better know how to use it for a situation where this kind of solution is actually needed. You get behind the cannon, point it at the drone, who is still dazed from the impact and blood loss, and begin mashing random buttons on the control interface.  A flash of light spews forth from the nozzle of the cannon and a gigantic noise emanates through the entire area. >Qualify and quantify results.  In a less than scientific manner, you observe a crater where the door, imperial drone and woodpile used to be. All of the nearby trees are on fire too. You direct your lusus to categorize the weapon under "Good enough" and being a diagnostics of the weapon. Shit, it appears that you didn't turn something on that compensated for the heat generation. The cannon doesn't appear operable for at least another week, given the current temperature and the specific heat of the alloy. >Kill time by reviewing game code You might as well, this may be something that your contacts want to hear about. Fascinating, it appears to alter the existing world by *bluh bluh huge words* . . . >Be someone who is using smaller words. |
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11-08-2010, 07:24 PM
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#42 | |
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An eagle with the head of a turtle-
Join Date: Feb 2005
Location: and the body of a turtle.
Posts: 1,371
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No pictures cuz I'm a shitty artist.
>Be someone who is using smaller words.
You now find yourself in the stormy waters of an island chain, HUNDREDS OF WHATEVER UNITS TROLLS USE FOR MEASURING DISTANCE away from SHARL'S WAREHIVE. The dark clouds blot out nearly all moonlight and rain down a volley of droplets with the force of fired arrows. Winds, not of any consistent direction, blow and roar and rage as if this stretch of terrain had done them a terrible injustice. The sea quickly dips down and rises up higher again, parts of it cresting and crashing into each other, creating a great deal of spray and foam. White flashes illuminate the waters and the small points of land that float in them and the ensuinging rumbles of thunder send visable shivers through them. It is because of the lightning that we can see the shape of your small MARITIME LIFEFORM REAPING VESSAL as it makes its way across the undulating body of brine. The boat has undergone something of a makeover since last it was seen, as many carcasses of eels and various large toothed fish now rest in a pile in the center and adorn the bow. Sitting at the stern is you, the SALTIEST OF SEA SABRE-CATS, working the rudder and guiding this hunk of timber on a course back to your home. Behind you there is a large tangle of ropes tied to the boat and around the form of the large massacred deep one that you are currently towing. Today's catch of the day is D'LAK'N. The FAUX HORRORTERROR EMISSARY appears to have large portions bitten off from its hide and tentacles and its larger maw has been ripped clean off. And, judging from the squirming and gurgling, it seems to be still alive. This one put up quite the fight, you muse. A lot more that baby one you caught the other day. In the end though, he met the fate that all sea life that find themselves at the end of your line share. Of course, as soon as you reeled it in, every goddamn swimming bastard around decided it was a good idea to take a bite out of it. They couldn't have been more wrong. Unless, of course, they liked being caught and hung from the bow of your ship. You can only assume they didn't. Despite the weight and mass of your haul, you navigate through the rough waters with great ease and surprising speed, all without the aid of a sail or motor. Almost like magic. Of course that's all bull-pixie sludge, magic is about as real as faeries and imaginary friends. No, you just happen to be spectacularly good at reading the waves and using the currents to propel your vehicle. It's a natural talent that has allowed for you to out-maneuver even the nobles out in open waters. Because of that, coupled with your POLE-AND-LINE PROWESS, none of those BOTTOM-FEEDING SEEDFLAP-HEADS have ever been able keep you from going wherever you flarping pleased. Aye, way back when you used to travel across the seas at your leisure, visiting all corners of Alternia, getting into scuffs, picking up STRANGE EXOTIC ARTIFACTS, meeting even stranger Trolls, and generally having the time of your life. Nearly ever night you'd wake up to see a new shore stretched out before you, just waiting to be explored. And just before every day break, you'd happily jot down a log of the day's events. Good times. But those days are behind you. An ADVENTURER no more, now just a simple MARITIME LIFEFORM REAPER trying to eke out a living for himself and his ravenous lusus. Each night is the same as the last, brave the waters surrounding your home, find a spot to fish at, rack up a large pile of scaled beasties, brave the waters back home, and then find some way to kill time to before your next trip out. Did I mention that you've grown to dislike the sea? Yeah, you're in quite a rut. >Land on the island already, Doyle! You are now docked at the pier of your home island. You fight against the winds to load up today's catches onto a wagon you had left there earlier. It takes a little while but you finally get all the biters in there and tied down. You then cut the ropes tying the D'LAK'N to the boat. You don't have to worry about it getting away, the ropes tied around it have it immobolized and the waves are going to beach it on the shore. See? Damn you're good. Ahoy, what this? You spy a great mass of white standing out against gray sand. This calls for an investigation. >Move closer to the thing. You draw nearer to the great white object, which upon closer inspection looks like the broadside of some marine fauna the size of two space SUVs. Suddenly the whatever-it-is springs to its feet and rears its head, giving you a full view of just what it is you're dealing with. The beast's front end is that of a large spotted feline with big dagger-like canines, strong fore-legs ending in giant clawed paws, and a matted wet mane running along it's back. It back end is a little less threatening, resembling that of a lesser and more clownish marine carnivore's flippers. In the light of the lightning strikes, you make out the animal's face and can see the scars from where it's eyes and nostrils had been savagely slashed and torn. It can no longer see or even smell it's prey. Still, even a blind and olfactory-impaired Sea Jaguaren is dangerous. It's sharp ears can still pick out the hidden sound of an idiot shuffling around through the sand in the wail of the winds. See, what did I tell you? The Jaguaren growls as it closes in for the kill. The winds howl and the waves crash into the shore behind you, sending out a spray of salty wetness onto your back. The lightning continues to strike with reckless abandon, coloring the scene in stills of ghastly white. What will you do now? >OUTRAGEOUS STRIFE FIGHT SCENE!!!!!!!! I was hoping for another failed attempt at naming him, but that is a much better idea! Have at ye!
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Some quote: Quote:
Last edited by Intern Nin; 11-09-2010 at 11:35 PM. |
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11-09-2010, 08:53 AM
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#43 | |
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Magikoopa
Join Date: Dec 2008
Posts: 1,789
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Also no pictures because I am the suck.
==>
PSYCHE! ==>Tergum: Throw down the gauntlet It's been far too long since you've pestered your peers. It's also been far too long since you've bested those pail-sniffers. And the best way to do that is to drop some rhymes all up in this motherfucker. ==> Open Memo. Quote:
Oh yeah. You smile in satisfaction as your beautiful beats and lovely lyrics are posted for all to see. This is your gift to the world. You are so magnanimous. ==>Be someone less horrible in every possible way_ Last edited by Token; 11-09-2010 at 08:56 AM. |
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11-09-2010, 11:01 AM
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#44 |
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Moves Like Jagger, Kupo!
Join Date: Jul 2007
Location: To the south, a little to the left... Or to the right.
Posts: 4,910
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>Be someone less horrible in every possible way
You fail to be someone less horrible. You are now Zebrek. >Attempt to shit on your desk again. You cautiously start making your way over to your desk, so you don't trip again. >======> OH SHIT WHAT'S THAT >======> AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! >======> You are attacked by A GIANT ROBOT OUT OF FUCKING NOWHERE MAN. >STRIFE! You AGRESS! Your bullets bounce harmlessly off the robot's tough shell. Clearly, you're fucked. >Attempt the dangerous PSYCHE-OUT X2 COMBO. Your attempt fails. The giant robot proceeds to smash you into the wall. >Find a weak spot. You fail to find a weakspot. This fucker is rock solid. You prepare for your inevitable doo-huh? >======> It appears the robot has stopped cold in mid-swing. You guess in making the outer shell impenetrable, the makers had to skim costs on the inside. Wait, what's that coming out from behind it? >======> Why, it's your lusus. The little bastard firefly was controlling the robot the whole time! And of course the robot was actually a toy (more like military-grade weaponry) you recently acquired. The whole thing was just a game. >======> Strangle lusus. And by strangle, you mean chase him all around your hive playfully. >Be someone else.
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Dracorion's dumbass color is Royal Blue. If you see that color, you better run the fuck away. |
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11-09-2010, 03:52 PM
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#45 |
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Tra la la
Join Date: Oct 2010
Location: In the clouds.
Posts: 13
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>Be someone else
You are now SRYNXA. >Do something cool. You are trying to do just that! You are perched on a low hanging branch of one of the MANY TREES in the forest. But this one is the best, because it just so happens to be right above your mark.. none other than the famed and incredibly wealthy SENATOR ALTRIX BEZWIG. What did he do to warrant a hit? You'll probably never know. And you don't care. Actually it's just a LONGTOOTHED JUNGLE FELINE but you like to pretend. It makes you feel more.. assassinny. You narrow your eyes and prepare your DART BLOWING APARATUS. But as you inhale, the senator spots you! Oh no! >Srynxa: SSTRIFE!~ >AGGRESS! You fling a poison tipped dart haphazardly at the now aggressive politician, who is now preparing to leap at you, his claws.. er.. his BLADES ready to gut you. You fall backwards and land on the soft forest floor below, scrambling to your feet and facing the mighty senator. He.. eh.. he yowls then hisses at you? Well that kind of breaks the illusion but no matter. As he swipes at your leg you grab a fistful of darts from their HOOFBEAST HIDE POUCH and plunge them into his neck. The old bag yelps and attempts to ABJURE, but instead he falls twitching to the ground. Despite the cool dark liquid oozing from your leg, you have emerged from another hit victorious! You pout at the slight stinging sensation as you grab the senator by his paws.. uh you mean his feet, and begin to drag him back to your hive. Your lusus will surely patch up your booboos. >Skip boring walk sequence. You are now at your hive with your dead cat and a freshly bandaged leg. You plop into the chair at your desk and rest your head upon your hands, staring blankly at the screen. Welp, now you're bored. >Be someone else. |
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11-09-2010, 06:48 PM
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#46 |
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Lakitu
Join Date: Feb 2010
Posts: 4,648
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Warning: NSFT
>Be the imperial drone corpse. You fail to be the imperial drone corpse as the imperial drone is (barely) alive. >Be the drone then I'm serious. You are now the drone, you are barely conscious and bleeding a lot. >Test motor control This is your last warning. You pass out from exhaustion after performing your extremely vulgar action. >Be someone who is conscious and more decent |
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11-09-2010, 09:58 PM
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#47 |
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Argus Agony
Join Date: Oct 2005
Location: Gotta go fishing!
Posts: 10,483
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>Be someone who is conscious and more decent
You are now Ballaa. Following this conversation that we've already read, you are now quite certain that you've deduced the identity of the gluttonous cake thief! You were very close in suspecting Gorrma, but only slightly off the mark. It was, quite obviously, her lusus that was responsible. This is truly a victory for the forces of justice! >Notify the local authorities of Nommington's deeds and have the criminal face punishment. No, you couldn't possibly do that. To rob an innocent girl of her lusus would be unthinkable. You will not force a friend, much less one as sweet as Gorrma, to suffer the same pain you know all too well, the pain of a young grubling that lost everything at the hands of some punk with a gun. >Go up to the roof and brood over the memory of your dead lusus. You swoop out the window, climbing to the top of your hive and perch upon the roof, fully obscured by the... broad daylight shining down happily from the noonday sun. It might as well be drawn with a crayon with yellow lines around it and a big stupid smiley face in the middle. Fuck. >Could you be any worse at this? No. >Fine, get to brooding. You close your eyes, letting the memories overtake you. The sights, the sounds, the smells.... Everything is still fresh in your mind all these sweeps later. You can see your lusus now, Ace, an aquatic canine beast referred to as a "splashound." You lived on the shore back then, despite your middling bloodcaste, because Ace so loved to frolic in the ocean. But it always worried you sick. Dangerous things lived in that sea, but you could never bring yourself to force Ace away from it. Then suddenly a flash of light crosses the sky as Ace leaps out from the waves, striking through his body. He falls limply into the water, pulled further out to sea by the tides, lost forever. The sight won't stop flashing before your eyes. You warned that dog! You TOLD him about shores! It keeps happening. >Snap out of it and go back inside, already. You re-enter your room through the window, the curtain falling into place behind you and restoring the scattered shadows around you. You lean against your recuperacoon, breathing heavily. It would probably be best to focus on the road ahead from here on in. >Be another troll while you regain your composure.
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Either you're dead or my watch has stopped. |
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11-09-2010, 10:22 PM
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#48 |
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Burn.
Join Date: Dec 2003
Location: *Classified*
Posts: 11,017
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You see an ocean, and just under the surface, a sparkling school of fish. Why are we here you ask? You'll see in aOHGOTWHAT! >What is causing this commotion? Let's look underwater. >Go underwater. Under the surface, a pale shark was speeding though, gobbling up fish left and right. And following it was a girl in an unusual garb.... Oh god, she saw... let's just come back later, shall we? >Be someone else, quick.
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"Only the fool wishes to go into battle to beat someone for the satisfaction of beating someone." -A Thousand Sons Rules. Read them, know them, love them. |
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11-09-2010, 11:43 PM
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#49 |
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Strike the Earth!
Join Date: Nov 2007
Location: Canada
Posts: 3,185
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>Be someone else, quick
You are now Rektek. This is very unfortunate for you because he just finished reorganizing the instruments in his PERCUSSION ROOM based on drum diameter and sound preference. Needless to say it was very exciting and you totally missed out. Oh well, what do you want to do now? > Resist urge to re-reorganize the instruments in the PERCUSSION ROOM You just barely manage to resist the urge to re-reorganize the percussion room. However you do make a mental note to come back in an hour and make sure it's still organized in a satisfying way. > Check on Memo You return to your respite block and check the memo you posted earlier. Show Pesterlog Sweet Jegus! You weren't even gone for that long! So much for a well-ordered discussion about SGRUB. That's the last time you post a memo without strict guidelines. Reading that memo really got you riled up, you should probably go be someone else until you calm down.
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POS Almighty has spoken. |
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11-10-2010, 12:57 AM
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#50 | |||
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Magikoopa
Join Date: Dec 2008
Posts: 1,789
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I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry.
You are now Tergum.
>Check grubtop. It would appear that you have a message from pandorasArchivist. Outfuckingstanding. What's more, the memo you posted has been added to. >Check memo You choose the option that's less likely to make you want to destroy your computer. Scalis isn't exactly your favorite troll these days. => Quote:
You think we all know what this is. What it is is on. >Drop it. Preferably like it's hot. Quote:
There. Much better. A troll can't take that sort of insult lying down. Gotta represent, y'know? > Open Message from Scalis You find a single text document inside the otherwise blank message. You figure whatever he has to say can't be as bad as Leraje's painful attempt at rap. > Open "Unevolved Love.trlxt" Dear god. You were wrong. So horribly, horribly wrong. You have never been so completely wrong about anything in your life, jegus fuck. You can feel your brain melting as your eyes scan the words on the screen, but dammit, you can't look away. The only thing more horrible than your utter wrongness is the literary abomination raping your eyes and mind. You thought you had felt pain before. You were mistaken. Now you can't feel anything. There are six hundred and ninety nine pages left to go. Quote:
Last edited by Token; 11-10-2010 at 12:59 AM. |
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Linear Mode
