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Post by insuppresibleFrost on Apr 15, 2013 18:47:20 GMT -5
IF : ah good so we got ourselves some space and time players IF : can't begin to tell ya'll how messed up my last session was without them IF : i'm thinkin' i'm sf's server judgin' by the looks of things
Alright, so TG is your server player. He seems to be a fairly reasonable lad, so that's totally alright with you. But then, it's too early as of yet to tell which of the hen's eggs are going to hatch into an omelette. That was a metaphor from your old life meaning you can't tell which of these kids is going to be fucked up as of yet.
So TG's setting up space for the usual alchemic devices, and throwing around some of the bookshelves in the process. Good on him, those useless old things can all burn in your opinion. Ain't nobody got no time for silly things like reading! He sends a bookshelf your way on accident, without even blinking you execute an unreal backflip over the errant projectile and kick off it, sending the proverbial crowd wild again.
IF : no problem tg, ya'll ain't hurtin' me with weak mode stuff like that IF : ya'll don't need to read no guides sf, just listen to what we say and ya'll are goin' to be fine IF : i've never actually seen void or mist before IF : reckon we might not have either in this session, unless i happen to be one of them IF : stupid sprite left me in the lurch though IF : if ya'll have anything in the house ya'll wanna keep around i recommend ya'll capchalogue it now IF : i'll be back in a sec
You head downstairs to behold your alchemy setup. Everything's in pretty close proximity, though the main hallway of the house is kind of a tight fit now. For people who aren't you, that is. With a hop skip and jump you flip your way over the obstructing devices and the proverbial crowd is waving lighters and crying in joy. TG did a good job with the setup, so you're happy with him as a server player for the moment. You return to the computer, thinking that the first thing you need to alchemize is a more mobile device.
You heft up the dang thing and haul it downstairs in your arms, not too difficult a feat for a trained athlete like yourself. A couple of fancy moves later and you've got yourself a new and less uselessly archaic computer.
OLD PEICE OF JUNK && TEN GALLON HAT = GALLONBYTE HAT
Is a gallonbyte even a valid unit of data measurement? Heck if you know.
IF : thinkin' that's all i'll need for now IF : you ready now sf?
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Post by tradingcardgamer on Apr 15, 2013 18:59:57 GMT -5
TG: Yes, it seems- albeit the expense of creating that admittedly quite cool hat sacrificed some grist I was planning on using for stabilizing purposes- I've got a reasonably secure extension upwards from your house to the first Gate that'll bring you to your Land, near a Consort village if I'm not very much mistaken. TG: I've a bad feeling, though, about what's going to happen when you do, though I'm not sure it's not still the general feeling of unsureness given by suddenly not being a God Tier Mind player. TG: Either way, the stairwell I made is structured around an extension of the chimney, with a bit of stabilization. From what I've observed, you're quite the nimble lass, so any instability shouldn't be terribly much of an issue.
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Post by insuppresibleFrost on Apr 15, 2013 20:15:32 GMT -5
IF : sincerest apologies about that tg IF : but i need myself a computer that i don't have to lug around like a cow milker everywhere IF : i'm thinkin' ya'll don't want to lose contact with me just yet IF : anyways it's usually the case that bad feelins' are to be trusted if you're the right role for that sort of thing IF : my dream player was never really good for accurate prophecy IF : but i'm also gettin' some weird vibes from what i'm about to do IF : course we have no idea what the heck my title is IF : but i guess we have no choice but for me to get my nimble butt up that there stairwell IF : can't just sit around doin' nothing
You begin the process of ascension, which surely enough is quite the easy task for your trained self in spite of the lack of proper structural stability. Not that you know that anyways. No such thing as a 'dangerous' or 'unadvised' area for a girl like you to go through!
You're rather confused though. Typically the imps are appearing in swarms for you to fight off and narrowly escape through the gate in a dramatic fashion. This session is already being ominously weird, and that little voice you don't know yet that's whispering sweet cautions into your mind isn't helping matters at all. After a very rapid pace up the stairs you stylishly roll into your gate.
Further away from the artificial lighting provided by your sad excuse for a home you realize that this land is quite the dim and dreary place. There's flora, but it's noticeably wilted and dead-looking, with spacious gaps between the trees that forests shouldn't have. You got a doozy of a planet this time. But every planet's a doozy, now ain't it? You're in the middle of a sparse copse, ringed on all sides by clearly artificial lights. The consorts await.
IF : were our feelins' on the money IF : has anything bad happened yet
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Post by unaffiliatedmerc on Apr 15, 2013 22:18:02 GMT -5
--unaffiliatedmerc responded to memo AND IT NEVER ENDS right now -- UM: Has anybody seen any imps? UM: Or am I just impless? UM: Also to whomever my client is, I deployed the things. UM: And now I'm getting aspirin. UM: And shades.
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Post by schadenFreudian on Apr 15, 2013 22:31:10 GMT -5
SF: I guess I'll just listen to you guys, then. SF: You obviously know much more about what's going on than I do, so I might as well follow some orders if we're going to make it out alive. SF: Excuse me for a moment. I believe if our seasoned cyan SBURB-savvy specialist is going to have any luck deploying alchemical equipment, I should explore my confines.
-----------------------------------
You always had a thing for alliteration. You're not sure why. Typing with established eloquence was eternally your endowed enemy, but certain situations steadily seemed to sow the seeds of spirited speechcraft, particularly when taking part in public parley of which pleasing prose proved pertinent to partake in. Alright, you'll stop.
-----------------------------------
SF: I'll be back in a bit. Good luck outside your dwelling spire, IF.
-----------------------------------
Not that she would need it, probably. It's a comforting thought that your server player has a pretty good idea what she's doing, and you'd rather just try not to get in her way in the process. At the moment, that means exploring your current household to give her some room to build.
But first things' first; what the hell you have in your inventory. You could check the individual cards, but that would involve going through a couple minutes of shuffling through your obscene amount of captchalogue cards you possess in your sylladex, and honestly you don't really care that much. Instead, you simply set the retrieval type of your Object-Oriented Modus to REITERATION, and list off the variable 'item'. As expected, the modus searches for the first captchalogued item with a property descriptor of 'item', and ejects it. Then it loops, and searches for the next, and the next, until every item with that property has been ejected. Since everything is obviously going to have the descriptor 'item', your entire inventory is ejected into a neat little pile, as expected. Or, well, it WOULD be a neat little pile, but apparently your sylladex was filled with SEVERAL BOTTLES OF EYESHADOW, SEVERAL EARRINGS, A SMALL PILE OF RAZOR BLADES (what the fuck?), CLOTHING OF INDISCRIMINATE PRODUCERS, A BLACK WINTER COAT (better than nothing, you suppose), and a SHIT TON OF SMALL PLASTIC FIGURINES OF VAGUELY EQUINE ANATOMY. Gee, you wonder where he got his prototyped item from. Well, it would have been neater, but apparently his EYESHADOW containers had a very high FRAGILITY factor, so it's more like a PILE OF BROKEN GLASS now. You recaptchalogue the miscellaneous piles of crap, give the custom descriptor of 'sharp' to both the PILE OF BROKEN GLASS and PILE OF RAZOR BLADES, and allocate the BLACK WINTER COAT to your Strife Deck. On second thought, you leave the SHIT TON OF SMALL PLASTIC FIGURINES OF VAGUELY EQUINE ANATOMY there, and note to come up with a better name for it in case you ever need it again. You doubt you will.
You scan for possible exits to your current abode, and spy a large trapdoor on the ground. Are you in the attic? Whatever, you pull on the stringy-dealy thing, and the wooden entrance slides open, washing the room you're in with artificial light, and forcing you to squint. Finding a safe way down the ten-foot drop, you give a solid boot to the sliding ladder beneath you, and it predictably does its slidy thing to the floor below. You climb down like a normal person.
"Huh."
You're actually surprised enough to let out an audible token of your surprise. The room is empty. Like, not just empty of anything particularly interesting, but seriously devoid of anything save for the walls, floor and ceiling. It's just a twenty-foot-by-twenty-foot-by-ten-foot area of empty air. Aside from that, there's four plain wooden doors, each leading to a different area of the house. You explore each with utmost haste.
The north door (or what you're currently calling 'north') leads to a kitchen. Actually, it looks exactly like the last room, but there's a refrigerator in the corner, and a lineup of several household appliances, like a STOVE, SINK, PANTRY, OVEN, and a few CUPBOARDS, all empty. Everything here is empty. Even the fridge is empty, to your distaste after realizing that your previous breakfast had already been expelled from your stomach like many-an-item from a novice Captchanaut's sylladex. Food is starting to sound good, but alas, this room is empty. And quite spacious as well, actually. You're pretty sure it has the exact same dimensions as the last one, except most of the walls are lines with kitchen-stuff. You don't think IF is going to have any trouble at all setting up the everything.
Abandoning your search for foodstuffs, you venture to the east door. Not empty, surprisingly. Actually quite the opposite. Most of the space in the room is currently being taken up by MOUNTAINS OF CARDBOARD BOXES, as well as several large items of furniture like TWO WORN-OUT SOFAS, SEVERAL WOODEN CHAIRS, ONE LARGE COMFY-LOOKING RECLINER, and probably a bunch of other stuff buried under all of this crap. You're beginning to get the idea that this house was just being moved into when SBURB was launched. Unfortunate for the family, but pretty damn convenient for any server players. You decide to captchalogue a few CARDBOARD BOXES OF UNDETERMINED CONTENTS just in case. You can never have too much heavy stuff in your sylladex, after all. Aaaaand a chair for good measure.
The southern door contains an axe being swung at your face. Fuck.
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galvinstarlight
Full Member
You are attractive. I am attracted to you.%\0\%
Posts: 112
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Post by galvinstarlight on Apr 15, 2013 22:38:57 GMT -5
It seems that everyone is beginning to the establishing client/servers, following their example you boot up and open the PHERNALIA REGISTRY. Your mouth drops open as you gaze at the room now contained within your screen. The word Bro comes to mind. Actually it floods your mind drowning several of your brain cells in the process. At the computer there is a boy dressed in all tan with cargo pants on. You assume this to be cursedTinker. -- galvinStarlight began pestering “current” CursedTinker right now -- GS: Hey Tink GS: It looks like I’m your client player. GS: At least I think so. GS: All the… GS: what’s the word I’m looking for? GS: Kindling, certainly makes you an easy to I.D. GS: I do feel sorry for you having to be in that horrible situation. GS: Anyway I’m going to go ahead and get started laying some stuff down. GS: Any where in particular you want this stuff? GS: Or can I just throw it down anywhere?
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Post by unaffiliatedmerc on Apr 15, 2013 23:12:18 GMT -5
You walk DOWNSTAIRS trying to find aspirin. Or maybe just the KITCHEN. You don't really care at the moment. You find yourself in a medium sized LIVING ROOM. There's a COUCH, a PAPASAN, a TV, and a FAN. There is a door on your left. As you open it, with your foot, you swear you hear somethinOHGODLOOKATALLTHEIMPS!
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cursedTinker
Junior Member
[color=c85823]The most delicious of questions.[/color]%\0\%
Posts: 54
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Post by cursedTinker on Apr 16, 2013 11:34:15 GMT -5
You shake your head. Must have zoned out there for a bit. You take a look at the memo. OH MY GOD NESS, NO ONE CARES. You debate whether or not to continue debating the matter of Ness' predecessor's retardedness, but you figure that he'll come to his senses eventually.
Right alchemy stuff time. You actually forgot all about it, to be quite honest. You tab over to the SBURB server page and take a look at Ness' room once agin. Looks like the guy's doing the server thing for... uh... whoever he has.
--cursedTinker [CT] began pestering tradingcardGamer [TG] at 15:45-- CT: Hey. I have your alchemy equipment in the phernalia registry. CT: Where do you want it?
Oh, look. Someone's pestering you as well.
--galvinStarlight [GS] began pestering cursedTinker [CT] at 15:32-- GS: Hey Tink GS: It looks like I’m your client player. GS: At least I think so. GS: All the… GS: what’s the word I’m looking for? GS: Kindling, certainly makes you an easy to I.D. GS: I do feel sorry for you having to be in that horrible situation. GS: Anyway I’m going to go ahead and get started laying some stuff down. GS: Any where in particular you want this stuff? GS: Or can I just throw it down anywhere? CT: Yeah, "kindling" was the exact wprd I was goin to use. CT: *word CT: *going CT: If you can do me a favor and toss it outside so I don't have to worry about it, it'd be much appreciated. CT: As for the alchemy stuff, it'd be pretty sweet if we have enough grist to build a seperate room just for alchemy. CT: Like a laboratory. CT: Yeah. CT: Then when someone asks where we are, we can bee like, "Oh, hey. Yeah, don't mind me, I'm in the lab." CT: *be
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Post by dementedDamsel on Apr 16, 2013 12:11:41 GMT -5
After delivering that far to long message in your session's discussion memo, you decide it's about time to find the former occupant's of this house, Sburb disks. You proceed to YOUTH ROLL out of your surprisingly comfy computer chair, and with your Sburb augmented agility, proceed to flash-step back and forth across the room looking for the disks.
If there's one thing about Sburb you must thank, is it's ability to give the human body ridiculous amounts of endurance and youthful vigor. Seriously, it's rather ludicrous. You've haven't had the opportunity to meet up a Seer of Time, or Life in awhile, but chronology you must be at least 25 years of age, and yet you still have the body of a 17 year old, and you first entered Sburb when you were around 13. Hmm... know that you think about it that's actually rather creepy, and it's probably been a major factor as to why you haven't actively pursued a relationship in awhile...
Augh.
Awkward thoughts aside, you still have a job to do, looking for those errant disks. As you overturn furniture and gone through selves filled with 80's high school movies, you stop for a second and once AGAIN mention to no one in particular just how gaudy this room is. Your not a fashionista or anything like that, but DAMN this place just offends the senses! It's starting to make you feel self-conscious of your own fancy of the color pink. Oh well, you guess could alchemize some paint and furniture later on and give this place a much needed upgrade.
Eventually, after knocking down a bunch of selves and ruffling through a desk. You surmise that the the room's closet is the only place that you've not checked yet.
Just as your about up the closet door you begin to detect a burning smell. You immediately think the IMPS have finally made their appearance and are planning to burn the whole house down! FIENDS!!! You equip your, LACKLUSTER RAPIER OF THE MIDDLING, and cleanly slice the closet door. To your horror you discover.....
A shrine detected to Judd Nelson. The burning smell were candles, lit around a dozen pictures of Judd Nelson from his various films from the 80's.
You, you just can't deal with this shit right now. You really can't. If this was your old Rage Player days you probably would have the unleashed the [Dark Carnival] and proceeded to motherfucking murder every living thing on this motherfucking Planet. Luckily, those dark murderous days are long sense gone and done with, and are better left forgotten.
Anyhow, after managing not to go on a murderous rampage, you notice something shiny at the corner of your eye. You pull it out from under a frame of Judd Nelson's face.
It's your Server copy!
You immediately flash-step out of that nightmarish closet and jump back into your computer chair. You run the disk, and wait for the usually load up. You got to admit, nine sessions in and you still haven't gotten fed up of the that load up theme. It's just so catchy. After it's done, your screen presents you with the image of a large room painted in a quite handsome shade of silver. At least one of these replaced Players had some sense of style. You also notice a boy, clicking away on his computer. You check the pesterchum and it seems your client player is galvinStarlight, the Space Player. How fortunate, you remember him mentioning he was on his third session, so at least you won't have to hold him by the hand to much.
You decide to message him and inform him of his new room's immediate spatially reconstruction.
-- dementedDamsel[DD] began pestering galvanStarlight [GS] at 15:27 --
DD: Greetings, Mr.GS. I'm Elsa. DD: I wanted to tell you that I will be serving as your Server Player for this session. DD: I also wanted to warn you that I've decided to immediately get started on installing the core devices of the PHERNALIA REGISTRY into your newly acquired room. DD: I hope you understand that I do this for the sake of speeding up this rather mundane part of the game, so we can only move onto into more pressing matters. Like the disappearance of the IMPS. DD: I suggest you temporarily leave your home, or at least move to another room while I do my work. Things could get messy. DD: I home my intrusion does not come at to much of an inconvenient time for you. DD: Well, with that said, I'm starting NOW.
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Post by tradingcardgamer on Apr 16, 2013 14:22:15 GMT -5
--cursedTinker [CT] began pestering tradingcardGamer [TG] at 15:45-- CT: Hey. I have your alchemy equipment in the phernalia registry. CT: Where do you want it? TG: Oh, just... anywhere I guess, preferably within easy reach of each other. TG: Please don't move the bed, if possible. I plan on sleepin' in it TG: what TG: where did that apostrophe come from TG: i'm incapable of capitalization or punctuation TG: oh crap please don't get your mouse or highlighted text anywhere near my text TG: seems jana's rangoonin' TG: and i caught it TG: did i actually just say "rangoonin'" TG: this is ridiculous TG: i'm goin' to proceed to stop pestering you in attempt to stop you catchin' it TG: OHGODIIIIIIIIMMMMMMMMMMMM- --tradingcardGamer [TG] ceased pestering cursedTinker [CT]--
-MMMMMPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!
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Post by unaffiliatedmerc on Apr 16, 2013 14:33:01 GMT -5
OKDON'TPANICTHEYDON'TSEEYOUOKNOWTHEYSEEYOUISTHATACHAINSAWHOLYFUCKITISISTHATFIREWORKSOHFUCKTHISABSCONDYOUFUCKER!
You ABSCOND the fuck out of there. While screaming. A lot
UM: AAAAAAAAAAAA!
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Post by tradingcardgamer on Apr 16, 2013 16:56:28 GMT -5
"IMPS!"
It seems that the Atomyk Ebonpyres have decided to start while you were distracted. What a surprise, SBURB being a jerk. Luckily, it seems Miles was right about the soundtrack thing, because you noticed them by the sudden blaring chiptune fight theme.
There are five of them currently in the room, with evidently different combinations of prototypings. Three of them have Mefist armour and axes, which you really, really take care to not be hit by, two of those and one of the others have wings and hooves, the third armoured one has a ridiculously large mustache, the unarmoured winged one also has a helmet, and the third one has what seems to be an extremely large speaker on its chest and one of its hands replaced by a giant teacup (!?!).
You instinctively grab the top card of your Deck modus and toss it at the moustachioed imp, releasing a cloud of Mentos traveling at slightly less than the firing speed of a rifle. The imp predictably explodes into a pile of assorted grist, and perched on top of it- an Axekind strife specibus. YESSSSSSSSSSSSSS. Meanwhile, the teacup'd imp raises its arm and- what the HECK!? It fires a stream of BOILING TEA at you.
Offsetting the fact that your Mangrit is slightly less than that of a sixth grader (dueling doesn't give much of a chance to exercise) you use the high Scamperway afforded by the fact that you're really wiry (some would say scrawny) to do a really cool jump off of the bed and grab the specibus in mid-air. Jana would be proud.
You pull the AXE OF MEFIST out of your new specibus, and slash it at the imps. You cut the entire four of them into piles of grist, which you collect. You hear more of the fight theme coming from downstairs, and hurredly type a message to Don. --tradingcardGamer [TG] began pestering Current cursedTinker [CCT]-- TG: some alchemy and an escape route would be nice right now if ya'll can be bothered TG: also i caught an ocaroon rangoon from jana so don't mouse over my text or highlight it --tradingcardGamer [TG] began pestering insupressableFrost [IF]-- TG: btw you gave me a rangoon
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Post by unaffiliatedmerc on Apr 16, 2013 17:50:47 GMT -5
You run into a BATHROOM.It looks like a normal BATHROOM. It has a BATHTUB, a SINK, a TOILET, and a MIRROR/MEDICINE CABINET. You quickly lock the door and try to find something for your hangover. What luck! You find a bottle of PAINKILLERS in the MEDICINE CABINET! Wait...Why can't you put the damn pills in your inventory? Aw fuck. You have the old player's crap.
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galvinstarlight
Full Member
You are attractive. I am attracted to you.%\0\%
Posts: 112
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Post by galvinstarlight on Apr 16, 2013 17:51:02 GMT -5
CT: Yeah, "kindling" was the exact wprd I was goin to use. CT: *word CT: *going CT: If you can do me a favor and toss it outside so I don't have to worry about it, it'd be much appreciated. CT: As for the alchemy stuff, it'd be pretty sweet if we have enough grist to build a seperate room just for alchemy. CT: Like a laboratory. CT: Yeah. CT: Then when someone asks where we are, we can bee like, "Oh, hey. Yeah, don't mind me, I'm in the lab." CT: *be
GS: Sure thing. You eliminate one of the walls of CT’s bedroom and begin extending the room. Unfortunately, you only have enough grist to provide just enough space for the alchemy equipment. GS: Alright Tink, I’ve done what I can with amount of grist I have, you’ll need to collect some more if you want me to make the “lab” a bit more spacious. Oh look, it seems that dementedDamsel is pestering you -- dementedDamsel[DD] began pestering galvanStarlight [GS] at 15:27 --
DD: Greetings, Mr.GS. I'm Elsa. DD: I wanted to tell you that I will be serving as your Server Player for this session. DD: I also wanted to warn you that I've decide to immediately get started on installing the core devices of the PHERNALIA REGISTRY into your newly acquired room. DD: I hope you understand that I do this for the sake of speeding up this rather mundane part of the game, so we can only move onto into more pressing matters. Like the disappearance of the IMPS. DD: I suggest you temporarily leave your home, or at least move to another room while I do my work. Things could get messy. DD: I home my intrusion does not come at to much of an inconvenient time for you. DD: Well, with that said, I'm starting NOW.
You don’t even waste time giving Damsel a response. As the image of her red cursor appears in the room, you quickly abscond, allowing her to do what she needs to do. She seems to be pretty keen on the whole sburb thing so you’re not really concerned with what she’s going to do to your room. You emerge out of your room to find a staircase directly to your left and a bathroom to your right. You look down the staircase excited, because you yourself have never had a house more than one story tall. You make a note to take full advantage of the slide that some people call a guard rail for later. For now you desend the stairs in an orderly fashion, to emerge into a living area with two chairs and a couch pointed at a TV. You decide that it would be best if you MustacheSprite again, as you don’t really have your pendant, and you’re still clueless as to what your class is.
--Spritelog-- GS: MustacheSprite! GS:... GS: MustacheSprite!? GS:... GS: Sir Vorpal Kickass’o MS: You called? GS: There you are, where have you been? MS: Doing the sprite thing, got crazy shit to do now that I’m a sprite. GS: Well could one of those things be giving me my pendant? MS: Nope GS: What?! GS: But your supposed to give me my pendant?! GS: I thought that was how this worked! MS: Wrong. I give you the pendant once you cross a certain threshold and not a moment before. GS: Come on man, why do you hate me so much. MS: First off, you never even asked my name before assigning me one. GS:? MS: It’s Monty GS: Fine, MONTASHESPRITE! What else? MS: You totally left Sir Skips up there alone. SS:Ribbit MS: Hah! He looks like a little hat on your head. GS: Are you just fucking with now? Can you at least tell me what my class is? MS: You can learn that when you earn your pendant. GS: Goddamn it! GS: Well what can you do for me right now? MS: I can still you give you advice. MS: Run. MontacheSprite absconds leaving you scratching at the frog perched on your head. Out of the corner of your eye you see a faint movement. You turn reveling an single imp emerging from the kitchen connected to the living room. The imp sports an incredible mustache along with all the other prototypes. GS: Well they certainly do look fancy. The imp’s super stache suddenly begins to grow. And grow. And grow. The imp is now waving its hairy lip tentacles waving its weapons around like a baby rattle. Suddenly the imp is not alone. GS: Well then. You do the only thing that comes that comes to mind. The same thing you did last session when you got in these situations. You draw out your ROD OF MINISCULE SIGHT as your instincts take over. You blood player instincts. You charge.
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Post by schadenFreudian on Apr 16, 2013 18:44:08 GMT -5
An axe swings at your face.
Actually, to be more specific, an axe is attempted to be swung in the general direction of your face. Or rather, it's kind of nudged forward, actually aimed more towards bumping your toes or something. You blink. It seems your assaulter is an imp. An imp with several hundred pounds worth of black (obsidian?) armor, wielding an axe more than twice its size, and apparently wearing a bucket (ah, giant teacup) on its head as a helmet. Actually, it looks like it's wearing that over ANOTHER helmet. Poor guy can hardly move, let alone actually initiate a Strife round. Not for lack of trying, you add. If gumption alone could kill, you're pretty sure you'd be double-dead at this point. You decide to close the door to the best of your ability, though the GIANT AXE in the way is stopping it from closing fully. You leave the door ajar, and realizing that the imps are probably going to start spawning like crazy, similarly to your last experience, you decide to switch your strifing 'weapon' to your new BLACK WINTER COAT. It's a little uncomfortably hot, but padded more than your JACKET OF LITTLE IMPORTANCE, so that's a plus. It's surprising how many times having a piece of clothing as your Strife Specibus has saved your life. One would assume a jacket would be completely fucking useless to fight stuff with, and one would be right. It's complete shit. You originally allocated your Strife deck because you were like "hey look, I can have a free slot for a specific items that I don't need to hassle myself with the Fetch Modus to get", and like an idiot you never assumed the world was going to go down in a ball of fire and transport you to a universe where everything is powered by metaphors and bullshit. In your defense, that was kind of obscure to intuit.
Ignoring the grunts from the behind the half-closed southern door, you decide to explore the eastern door, in case that holds anything that could be useful to your competent server player. The room contains a cake being hurled at your face. You can dimly make out the message 'Happy Birthday James' before the icing-crafted message decides to become your new best friend. Thankfully your higher-than-average Gel Viscocity absorbs the hit, though your pride goes down to the negatives. You wipe away the leftover frosting and blink at your assaulter. It's an imp, with a teacup as a tiny hat. It wields another dreaded ARTIFACT OF CONFECTION, which has apparently been collected from the surrounding PILES OF PLEASING PINK PARTY PASTRIES. Several other tar-black imps (why the fuck is EVERYTHING here black??) apparently want to join in on the 'fun', several of them seemingly made of some amalgamation of speakers and teapots and wings and hooves and helmets and you're pretty sure that one is wielding that same axe from before. And they're laughing at your cake-frosted face.
Oh it is on like Donkey Kong.
You pause to take off your glasses, and wipe off the cake frosting on your shirt. You'll have to wash all of this later, ugh. Stupid imps. Three of the four are lined up politely, and the first prepares to throw its next piece of ABUNDANT AROMATIC ALIMENT. God damn, you may be hungry but that is NOT how you want to eat your food. Though, as an afterthought, you feel the slightest bit lucky that there's all of this edible stuff around now. You were entertaining the idea of asking for a Captchacode of someone else's stuff, but alchemized food always tasted bluh. Anyway, back to the fight.
"Sharp."
With the listed variable of 'sharp', your modus cycles through all items containing that variable and ejects them all at once. The cake-wielding imp in front of you pauses and gives a small frown before being vaporized in a flying cloud of BROKEN GLASS and RAZOR BLADES. As does the one behind it. And the one behind that. Wow that was pretty cool, actually. You should keep your Fetch Modus set to REITERATION more often. Why don't you just have that set as the default? Multicolored grist explodes across the room, and the remaining imp (is that a speaker in its chest? You're pretty sure that's a speaker in its chest) stares at the remains of what used to be a three-man party group before turning its gaze back to you, and...absconding through the opposite door.
CUE VICTORY FANFARE HOLY SHIT YOU WON! You consider doing a silly dance to prove your worthiness of such a feat, but decide against it since there's probably a player watching you at the moment. A veteran no less, and you'd be damned if you were going to embarrass yourself in front of someone that experienced. Though that WAS pretty cool. You're starting to remember why you wanted to play SBURB in the first place. You know, because it's a game. And games are supposed to be fun. 'Supposed to' being the key piece there. Though that was pretty cool. You get to collecting the multicolored/shaped Grist immediately, netting yourself...
23 BUILD GRIST 17 TAR 4 AMETHYST 11 SHALE
Wow that's a pretty big amount, actually. You have the feeling that you're quickly going to lose track of your Grist amount anyway, so you decide never to list off your grist earnings in such a specific fashion ever again. And oh what's this...? A green card on the ground? You pick up the little thing. It's...a Strife card. Huh. Must've been what one of the imps had. You wipe the splattered frosting from its face to reveal... ...pastrykind. What the literal fuck. Before today, you were thoroughly convinced that you could not possibly get more useless than jacketkind, but apparently this sole imp had broken your record. You sigh disappointedly, and slide the game construct into your Strife Deck. Hopefully no one will ever know of this. Ever.
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