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Dang, it doesn't get much easier!
A young man stands in his bedroom. It just so happens that today, the 13th of April, is this young man's birthday. Though it was thirteen years ago he was given life, it is only today he will be given a name!
What will the name of this young man be?
ZOOSMELL POOPLORD TRY AGAIN, SMARTASS
Your name is JOHN. As was previously mentioned it is your BIRTHDAY. A number of CAKES are scattered about your room. You have a variety of INTERESTS. You have a passion for REALLY TERRIBLE MOVIES. You like to program computers but you are NOT VERY GOOD AT IT. You have a fondness for PARANORMAL LORE, and are an aspiring AMATEUR MAGICIAN. You also like to play GAMES sometimes.
What will you do?
Your ARMS are in your MAGIC CHEST, pooplord!
Out of sympathy for John's perceived lack of arms, you pick up the CAKE for him and put it on his BED.
You retrieve your FAKE ARMS from the chest. You use these for HILARIOUS ANTICS.
You CAPTCHALOGUE them in your SYLLADEX. You have no idea what that actually means though.
There are other items in the chest.
In here you keep an array of humorous and mystical ARTIFACTS, each one a devastating weapon in the hands of a SKILLED MAGICIAN or a CUNNING PRANKSTER.
You are neither of these things.
Among the ARTIFACTS are: TWO (2) FAKE ARMS [CURRENTLY CAPTCHALOGUED IN YOUR SYLLADEX], ONE (1) PAIR OF TRICK HANDCUFFS, ONE (1) STUNT SWORD, ONE (1) MAGICIAN'S HAT, ONE (1) PAIR OF BEAGLE PUSS GLASSES, SEVERAL (~) SMOKE PELLETS, SEVERAL (~) BLOOD CAPSULES, and ONE (1) COPY OF COLONEL SASSACRE'S DAUNTING TEXT OF MAGICAL FRIVOLITY AND PRACTICAL JAPERY, and ONE (1) COPY OF HARRY ANDERSON'S "WISE GUY", BY MIKE CAVENEY.
Some of this stuff may come in handy at some point. For now, you decide to just take the SMOKE PELLETS.
You stow the SMOKE PELLETS on one of your CAPTCHALOGUE CARDS in your SYLLADEX.
You still aren't totally sure what that means, but you are starting to get the hang of the vernacular at least.
You have two empty CAPTCHALOGUE CARDS remaining.
You aren't totally sure if "EQUIP" is a verb copasetic with the abstract behavioral medium in which you dwell, but you give it a try anyway.
Unfortunately, you cannot access the FAKE ARMS! Their card is underneath the one you just used to captchalogue the SMOKE PELLETS. You will have to use the pellets first in order to access the arms. But this is probably unadvisable, since you'd just make your room lousy with smoke!
Your SYLLADEX'S FETCH MODUS is currently dictated by the logic of a STACK DATA STRUCTURE. You were never all that great with data structures and you find the concept puzzling and mildly irritating.
But with any hope, perhaps you will advance new, more practical FETCH MODI for your SYLLADEX with a little more experience.
Is it even possible to get any more hard boiled than that? You really doubt it. This poster was one of your wisest purchases.
There is a nice spot on the wall next to it. You've been meaning to hang another poster there soon.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY SON. I AM SO PROUD OF YOU.
This note is rich with the aromas of FATHERLY AFTERSHAVES AND COLOGNES.
Beside the note is a ROLLED UP POSTER.
Another BIRTHDAY ARTIFACT. You wonder what is printed on the poster.
You'll need some way to hang it on your wall.
You first place the HAMMER into your SYLLADEX.
But now all of your CAPTCHALOGUE CARDS are full. You wonder what will happen if you try to take the NAILS?
You guess it doesn't hurt to try.
You captchalogue FOUR (4) NAILS into the top card, and push all the ARTIFACTS down a card.
The FAKE ARMS are pushed entirely out of the deck!!!
Oh well. They're probably completely useless anyway. But you probably don't want to do that again, unless you want to drop the SMOKE PELLETS and suffer the consequences.
In any case, you now feel like you have gathered enough things to get down to business and do some really important stuff. The next thing you do will probably be exceptionally meaningful.
This is the dumbest idea you've had in weeks!!!
STUPID STUPID STUPID.
And yet the polished surface of your desk...
You MERGE the top two cards.
The HAMMER and NAILS are now captchalogued on the same card and can be used together.
You use the HAMMER and NAILS card IN CONJUNCTION with the card beneath it.
You use the HAMMER, NAILS, and POSTER on the blank space on the wall.
It's glorious. Exactly what you wanted. The old man really came through this time.
CAGE CUSACK CON AIR
PUT THE BUNNY BACK IN THE BOX.
I SAID, PUT THE BUNNY BACK IN THE BOX.
WHY COULDN'T YOU PUT THE BUNNY BACK IN THE BOX?
Morgan Freeman's genteel, homespun mannerisms were perfect qualities for a president residing over a crisis.
OCEANS RISE. CITIES FALL. HOPE SURVIVES.
Films about impending apocalypse fascinate you. Plus, a black president??? Now you've seen everything!
APRIL 10: BETA! [x] 13: <|:)
You've marked your birthday, the 13th of April. Another day you marked was supposed to be the arrival date for the highly touted SBURB BETA LAUNCH.
It's been three days already. It's starting to become a sore subject with you.
You are sick to death of cake!!! You've been eating it all day. And you have no intention of clogging your SYLLADEX with it either. The CAKE stays put for now.
You hear a notice from your COMPUTER. Someone is messaging you.
[SYSTEM] [TYPHEUS] [PESTERCHUM] [pff.^CAKE] [FUCK FUCK FUCK.^CAKE] [AAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGH.~ATH] [ACTUATE] [PESTERCHUM] |04/13 16:13|
You pull up to your COMPUTER. This is where you spend most of your time. You decorated your desktop with some rather handsome WALLPAPER which you made yourself. You are really proud of it.
Your desktop is also littered with various PROGRAMMING PROJECT FILES. You are so bad at programming sometimes you wonder why you even bother with it.
Your PESTERCHUM application is flashing. Someone is trying to get in touch with you.
PESTERCHUM 6.0 CHAT CLIENT CHUMROLL: * turntableGodhead * tentacleTherapist * gardenGnostic [PESTER!] MYCHUMHANDLE: * ectoBiologist MOOD: * CHUMMY * BULLY * PALSY * PEPPY * CHIPPER * RANCOROUS
Only one of your CHUMS is logged in. He's sent you a message.
:: turntechGodhead :: PESTERLOG: -- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 16:13 -- TG: hey so what sort of insane loot did you rake in today [PESTER!]
You see the view of your yard from your window.
Hanging from the tree is your TIRE SWING. In a kid's yard, a tree without a tire swing is like a proper gentleman without a monocle. That is to say, HE CAN HARDLY BE CONSIDERED A TERRIBLY PROPER GENTLEMAN AT ALL.
And there beside your driveway is the mailbox.
The little red arm-swingy-dealy thing or whatever it is called is flipped up!
What the hell is that thing called anyway. You do not have time for these semantics. The red flippy-lever thing means you have new mail. And that means the beta might be here!
You are about to hurry down stairs when you hear a car pull into the driveway. It looks like your DAD has returned from the grocery store.
Oh great. He is beating you to the mail.
If you go down stairs to get it, he will likely monopolize hours of your time. You decide to chill out up here for a while until the dust settles.
Sometimes you feel like you are trapped in this room. Stuck, if you will, in a sense which possibly borders on the titular.
And now your chum is pestering you again. The clockwork of friendship turns ceaselessly, operating the swing-lever dealies of harassment in perpetuity!
Whatever. The dude can just hold his damn horses.
You've put countless manhours into this assortment of quality titles.
Colonel Sassacre's DAUNTING TEXT OF MAGICAL FRIVOLITY AND PRACTICAL JAPERY
You decide to consult with the Colonel's bottomless wisdom. Good grief this thing is huge. It could kill a cat if you dropped it.
But to really dig into this hefty book, you will have to captchalogue it. You are not sure you are ready to logjam your other ARTIFACTS beneath it just yet.
What did you just say?? You don't want to clog up your...
Oh, Jesus. In a momentary lapse of concentration, you accidentally captchalogue the arms again.
You don't think the situation is quite dire enough to go all the way to "RANCOROUS", but you still feel the PESTERCHUM client should reflect your mood change in some way.
"BULLY" will have to do. You guess.
This unsurprisingly does nothing whatsoever.
Oh, right, you forgot your chum is still pestering you.
You stick the FAKE ARMS in the CAKE on your bed.
This definitely makes the CAKE at least 300% more hilarious. You're sure COLONEL SASSACRE would know the precise index of elevated hilarity.
kind abstrata pizzactrkind batkind rollpinkind plungerkind yoyokind scissorkind peprsprykind chainsawkind crowbarkind broomkind pokerkind icepickkind golfclubkind [hammerkind] ?aropekind shovelkind hatchetkind spoonkind statuekind spatulakind scrwdrvrkind bladekind pistolkind lampkind stungunkind ballkind rakekind plankkind glovekind forkkind canekind curlironkind chainkind knifekind tablelegkind shotgunkind needlekind peprmillkind dumbbellkind hckystckkind vacuumkind mopkind trophykind fncysntakind ladlekind cordkind ironkind sawkind cleaverkind iceskatekind wrenchkind umbrellakind plungerkind hosekind bookkind bustkind spadekind pipekind nailgunkind hairdyrkind lcrsstckkind thrwstarkind tongskind razorkind fireextkind branchkind bowlgpinkind bombkind woodwindkind staplerkind riflekind sandlstkkind paddlekind bowkind barbwirekind dartkind marblekind plierkind fireworkkind chiselkind aerosolkind shoekind pippetkind fankind brasskind rockkind scythekind
You check the back of your STRIFE SPECIBUS for the KIND ABSTRATUS you have in mind for it.
Your STRIFE SPECIBUS has been ALLOCATED with the HAMMERKIND ABSTRATUS.
The HAMMER has been moved from your CAPTCHALOGUE DECK to your STRIFE DECK.
Now that you've got some space in your SYLLADEX to work with, you figure you might as well start squandering it immediately.
Ordinarily this ridiculous book would be way too heavy to carry around in any practical way. You guess maybe this is one respect in which the cards present some convenience.
GAMEBRO: SBURB: Why the "Game of the Year" or whatever isn't as good as some other stuff I like that's better.
GAMEBRO FEATURE SBURB So ok. SBURB is this game that a lot of cats seem hella pumped of. And this beta is sitting on my desk for review, so I’m like, yeah man I’ll write something. But I don’t know. I’m like, so this is about houses or some noise? That’s fine, I’m sure that’s like fucking dynamite in a handbag for some brosephs. But all I’m saying is, when do you get to *thrash* anything? While you’re playing house or some shit, are you ever in jeopardy of getting mud on your doll’s dress or whatever from busting out, and I quote, “the mad stunts all wicked up-ins”? Know what I’m saying, Bro-Yo Ma? I didn’t actually play this game, but I gave it 1.5 hats out of 5 hats to keep it real. At this point I’d like to give a shout out to my boy Dennis who was over the other day. We were going to chill in front of The Dark Knight and he was so psyched of it y’all. So this one time he was leaning against the screen door and the shit popped open, and the back deck was wet and he slipped down the steps and broke his thumb on the lawn. It wasn’t a long fall, but hey I guess a thumb bone wasn’t made for supporting the brunt of a huge useless tool against wet grass. We never did watch Dark Knight on account of Ron trucking his bawling candy-ass girth to the hospital. But it’s cool, I still got another watch in me, Brotel Rwanda. BRO-NOTES: Dennis was so wasted, ha ha. I mean damn. Rating for: SBURB [**] [* ] [ ] [ ] [ ]
It might come in handy if you ever need something that burns easily.
You expend your final card on the MAGICIAN'S HAT.
You don't have a free card in your SYLLADEX!
However, you are able to MERGE the BEAGLE PUSS with the MAGICIAN'S HAT to create a CLEVER DISGUISE.
John? Who is this "John" you speak of? You are quite certain there has never been, nor ever will be...
Yeah, this is a really shitty disguise.
While you are wearing the items, they remain on the card, but it is temporarily removed from the deck, thus freeing up the cards beneath it.
You exit into the HALLWAY.
On one wall hangs a picture of a fella who sure knows how to have a laugh, a man after your own heart. You always thought he looked a lot like Michael Cera. But your DAD swears on the many HALLOWED TOMBS of Egypt that it is not. You're not sure about that though.
On the other wall is one of your DAD'S stupid clowns. Or HARLEQUINS, as he is quick to correct anyone who would venture such brazen assumption.
The accursed odor of fresh baking wafts into your newfound nostrils. Something is brewing in the KITCHEN. It must be the connivings of your arch nemesis, BETTY CROCKER, and the rich, buttery aroma of her plot stinks to high heaven.
This mission is going to be more difficult than you imagined.
You check out the shelves of FANCIFUL HARLEQUINS.
Look at this fucking garbage. You hate this stuff. Funny is funny, but your DAD sure can be a real cornball.
Sometimes at night you pray for burglars.
A bright orange flame flickers in the FIREPLACE. It doesn't matter that it's April and not terribly chilly outside. In a home, a FIREPLACE needs a fire, because that's what FIREPLACE is for. A fire BELONGS in a FIREPLACE, dammit, cata(ptcha)gorically, at all times, without exception.
As domestic myth of unaccountable origin holds, a home borrows the spirit of the flame for as long as it makes a guest of it, much as the moon takes liberty with the sun's rays.
"The moon's an arrant thief, and her pale fire she snatches from the sun." -Mark Twain
You are almost certain Mark Twain said that.
It doesn't burn as quickly as you hoped.
Each GAMEBRO MAGAZINE is guaranteed to be printed on 40% recycled asbestos. For big ups to Mother Earth, yo.
You examine the SACRED URN containing your departed NANNA'S ASHES.
When your father gives her portrait a wistful glance now and then, you can tell it brings back painful memories. A tall bookshelf. A ladder. An unabridged COLONEL SASSACRE'S.
He never wants to talk about it.
You clumsily mishandle the SACRED URN. Ash is everywhere.
In retrospect, upon mulling cinematic tropes regarding ash-filled urns, this outcome was a virtual certainty.
You'd probably better clean it up before DAD finds it.
You think now would be a good time to beef up your CLEVER DISGUISE.
CHAMP. YOU CAN DO ANYTHING IF YOU PUT YOUR MIND TO IT. I BELIEVE IN YOU.
Contemplating what could be inside this package is sort of exciting, but it makes you a little nervous at the same time.
Oh hell no.
First you prop the HARLEQUIN DOLL up on the couch. Having it in the middle of the floor sprawled out all akimbo like that struck you as unseemly.
You captchalogue the ASHES to your available card.
You merge the SACRED URN with the ASHES.
Most of the ASH is back in the URN, but it's a total mess. Really it probably would have been tidier if you just used a broom and dustpan.
No one will be the wiser.
Except maybe for people with eyes.
You just got another BRILLIANT idea for something to do with those pointless arms. You pry them out of the CAKE and captchalogue them.
Looks like PESTERCHUM is acting up again.
Another one of your chums is messaging you.
You can now execute that brilliant idea you had.
There should be just enough FROSTING on the FAKE ARMS to serve as an adequate adhesive.
You don't care what COLONEL SASSACRE says, that makes it AT LEAST a million percent funnier.
You put this back in the fire where it belongs.
As long as you're cleaning up...
You can carry hefty items, but that thing is just way too big. Get real!
Besides, you don't even want it.
THE CREEPY-CRAWLIES! Hell's bells, we are having a mighty sporting time of it! Hold fast my intrepid fellow pranksmiths! We've merely nicked the mahogany of our japing chests. If I may direct the incisive ogle of of your beagle puss to the wriggling regency of rubber bugs, plastic parasites, squirming serpents, pliable pests, and every such order and phyla of creepy-crawlie! Land sakes alive, we are cooking with petrol now! In further exhibits we shall dwell on artifice useful to your exploits. Is your pappy's rod and reel handy? What about a bit of iron cord; it shouldn't prove elusive. Bring those wriggling rascals to life, and set the nerves of some old maid to the wreck of Hesperus! Do you have a bothersome aunt who never seems troubled to find ways with your sunny afternoon hours? A board, splintery fence - a bucket of whitewash perhaps? By gum you'll fix her wagon! And what of that tawny gent who puts his lackadaisical lean near the sarsaparilla font? You'll have that listless octoroon find the spring in his step just yet!
You thought about consulting the text to determine exactly how hilarious the doll is now.
But this text is way too big to navigate in a timely fashion. You decide to forget it.
The door on the left leads to the KITCHEN, from which the smell of baking wafts -- a powerful aroma which could lift an especially portly hobo off his feet.
The door on the right leads to the STUDY, where your DAD spends a lot of time.
He could be in either room. Where will you go?
It doesn't look like he's in here right now.
On the desk is a DECK OF PLAYING CARDS, one of your DAD'S PIPES, the April issue of THE SERIOUS JESTER magazine, and a stray CAPTCHALOGUE CARD.
There is also a CAN OF PEANUTS on the desk. Ha ha, oh DAD. You won't be falling for THAT one again any time soon.
A severe peanut allergy is a terrible affliction to cope with.
You swap the MAGICIAN'S HAT with the BOWLER HAT.
This disguise is somewhat less funny, but A LOT more distinguished looking.
Your DAD maintains numerous pipes around the household. A father without a pipe is like a strapping roughneck without a toothpick. That is to say, HE IS A RATHER PISS-POOR EXCUSE FOR A ROUGHNECK IF YOU ASK ME.
You'd rather not take the PIPE, though. The first one tastes bad enough as it is.
How you suffer for your comedy.
THE SERIOUS JESTER
Yes!!! This will be perfect for expanding the space in your SYLLA...
(Pages including sound will be preceded by [S] in the command.)
You play the prankster's favorite card game, even though you are alone in the room, thus rendering it an especially foolish version of Solitaire.
SO STUPID. Look at this mess.
The peanut gallery over there sure is getting a kick out of it. You are allergic to their scorn.
Hi-C ECTO COOLER
You go back into the LIVING ROOM and contemplate checking the mailbox outside. You think perhaps you should exhaust all possibilities before plunging headlong into a DAD encounter.
Your TELEVISION is currently airing a COMMERCIAL.
You exit the house.
Predictably, the mailbox is empty. You have already been scooped by your father.
The streets are empty. Wind skims the voids keeping neighbors apart, as if grazing the hollow of a cut reed, or say, a plundered mailbox. A familiar note is produced. It's the one Desolation plays to keep its instrument in tune.
It is your thirteenth birthday, and as with all twelve preceding it, something feels missing from your life. The game presently eluding you is only the latest sleight of hand in the repertoire of an unseen riddler, one to engender a sense not of mirth, but of lack. His coarse schemes are those less of a prankster than a common pickpocket. His riddle is Absence itself. It is a mystery dispersing altogether, like the moon's faint reflection, with even one pebble of inquiry dropped in its black well. It is the most diabolical riddle of all.
"Absence diminishes little passions and increases great ones, as wind extinguishes candles and fans a fire." -Walt Whitman
Yes, you are certain Walt Whitman said that. One hundred percent positive.
You have a feeling it's going to be a long day.
The door is locked and your DAD has the CAR KEYS. You peer in through the driver's side window.
You don't see any mail, but you do see a GREEN PACKAGE. There is also something underneath it that looks like a slip of paper.
Could these items have come in the mail? You don't see anything else that's usually in the mail, like bills and coupons. Maybe your DAD forgot to take this stuff inside.
You try to get a gander through the KITCHEN WINDOW, but you can't see a whole lot! It seems your DAD has been doing so much baking, the glass has steamed up.
God he is so weird.
But you can see what's on the table just beside the window. It looks like the mail is there! Included among it is a RED PACKAGE, some BILLS, your DAD'S PDA, and an envelope that appears to be suspiciously labeled with the SBURB LOGO. Could it be???
Unfortunately, the window is locked.
You have no other choice. You are going in.
CLEVER DISGUISE, it's time to work your magic.
Your DAD sees right through your costume! You don't know what you were even thinking with this foolish ruse!!!
You unequip the CLEVER DISGUISE. Your DAD wields a dreaded ARTIFACT OF CONFECTION. He stands between you and the mail.
There is only one way to settle this.
You cannot ABSCOND! This pesky GUARDIAN is blocking your path! You will need to engineer some sort of distraction.
And now he brandishes yet another ARTIFACT OF CONFECTION! The man is ruthless.
You'd better brace for impact in the most comedically striking fashion possible.
The BEAGLE AEGIS absorbs the brunt of the treat. Looks like DAD will enjoy the prankster's gambit on that exchange, as is usually the case.
You take PIE TIN and unequip the BEAGLE PUSS.
Everything in your SYLLADEX is pushed back a card. The SMOKE PELLETS are ejected from the deck.
Yes! This could be just the distraction you were...
What a huge letdown.
>AGGRIEVE >ABJURE [>ACCEDE] >ABSCOND
"When two great forces oppose each other, the victory will go to the one that knows how to yield." -Oscar Wilde
Wise words by a man who likely could resist everything but temptation.
The CAKE forces COLONEL SASSACRE'S TEXT out of your SYLLADEX.
Sassacre you beautiful bastard.
Now's your chance!!!
Now that DAD is busy placating the SMOKE DETECTOR, you can safely sneak away.
You snag your DAD'S PDA. Maybe later you'll switch the background image to something hilarious as a prank. Besides, it may come in handy later.
Your spare CAPTCHALOGUE CARD is forced out of the SYLLADEX, and consequently integrated with the deck. You now have five cards to work with.
This RED PACKAGE is addressed to you.
You got the SBURB BETA!!!
You captchalogue the CAKE on the couch, expelling the PIE TIN from the bottom card.
You then merge the two CAKES across all five cards.
Everything in your SYLLADEX is smushed between the CAKES. Why don't you think these things through first??
You pause at the juncture and head down the hall. You are going to need something to clean up the mess you are about to make by dissecting this CAKE.
To the left is the BATHROOM. To the right is your DAD'S ROOM. It is locked, and you are forbidden from ever entering. He has secrets.
You enter the BATHROOM. You can see your BACK YARD from the window. The jewel in its crown is the SWING SET which has provided you with years of joy. There is also a SPRING-MOUNTED POGO-RIDE, which has been responsible for more than one painful injury, and has provided you with years of lament.
On the sink is your DAD'S RAZOR. On the rack to the side is a FRESH TOWEL.
You take the RAZOR and use it to perform surgery on the CAKE.
You take the TOWEL and clean off the extracted goods.
The items force the MANHANDLED CAKE into the TOILET.
And just like that, your SYLLADEX is full again. God this thing is annoying.
You're not usually into chick-flicks, but Matthew McConaughey's cool charisma could salvage any heap of smoldering wreckage.
This is your "McConaughey Wall", a casual shrine to an amazing actor. The film above that one is a lot better, you think.
CAN YOU SEE HER? I WANT YOU TO PICTURE THAT LITTLE GIRL. [chokes up] NOW IMAGINE SHE'S WHITE.
You got us Matthew! Your smooth talking exposed our latent racism! Damn you are good!
You decide to space out on the computer for a while before doing anything important.
You open the TYPHEUS web browser and direct it to what is indisputably the most amazing website ever created.
ADDRESS: http://www.mspaintadventures.com?s=3 MSPAINT ADVENTURES Midnight Crew You are members of a sinister gang called the Midnight Crew. Your nefarious plots are serpentine in their complexity. Your schemes, convoluted. You are planning a heist in your underground hideout. What will you do?
The new adventure is ok, but you're not sure if you like it as much as the last one.
You decide it's time for less meta, and more beta.
You insert the CD and install the SBURB BETA.
SBURB CLIENT SBURB version 0.0.1 © SKAIANET SYSTEM INCORPORATED. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. SBURB client is running. Waiting for server to establish connection...
What the fuck is this.
- DATA STRUCTURES - discrete mathematics - ^CAKE - ~ath - DIS* - AUTOMATA
You go to your CLOSET, where you keep a lot of clothes and an array of handy COMPUTER PROGRAMMING GUIDES.
“I think my rage just crapped its pants“ -FUNNYUNCLE DATA STRUCTURES for ASSHOLES By Buckminster Funnyuncle Your ignorance just made me throw up a little. Get a clue, you computer-illiterate piece of shit. FREE FETCH MODUS IN BACK!!!
You're not sure you really want to dig into this huge tome. It looks really boring. And kind of ornery.
Maybe you'll just check out that free modus instead.
fetch modus FIFO queue
You turn to the back inside cover, where a free FETCH MODUS is included in a plastic sleeve.
This one is dictated by the logic of a QUEUE DATA STRUCTURE, operating on a "First In, First Out" method, rather than a "First In, Last Out" method of a STACK.
Items captchalogued in your SYLLADEX are no longer immediately accessible. You can only use the item on the bottom card, and must wait for items on upper cards to be pushed back to it.
For instance, the RED PACKAGE is now inaccessible. You can only use the RAZOR at the moment.
This modus doesn't strike you as a significant upgrade to your previous one. In fact, it almost seems more inconvenient. You figure you might as well give it a chance though.
? fetch modus ? FILO stack ?
You suddenly wonder if this is even possible. You don't even remember if you ever had a physical card for the STACK MODUS.
You find this all to be a little abstract and you'd prefer not to think about it too much.
You're not quite sure you understand.
You captchalogue one of the CAKES.
You've finally found a use for all these loitering pastries: DEAD WEIGHT.
matthew mcconaughey sarah jessica parker failure to launch
The second CAKE causes the RAZOR to launch out the front of your SYLLADEX.
Oh good lord.
THAT BEAUTIFUL FACE.
You wish the RAZOR would have failed to launch.
You open your MAGIC CHEST and captchalogue one of your favorite books of all time, WISE GUY BY MIKE CAVENEY.
There goes the FRESH TOWEL.
You take the TRICK HANDCUFFS, expelling the PDA like a bullet.
Oh God dammit.
TO: EB FROM: TG
You examine the package. It is from one of your internet chums.
It's bound in packing tape though. You'll need something sharp to open it.
Ah, of course! The RAZOR! It's all so simple, you wonder why you didn't...
Let's take this from the top.
You take three GLASS SHARDS in quick succession and duck for cover.
Your SYLLADEX rains devastation on your room from above.
And now that your cards are packed with glass, you probably don't want to do that again any time soon.
You should probably go get that stuff before you forget.
You open the package. There is something suspicious inside.
Something suspiciously dirty and smelly.
It is a STUFFED BUNNY. Much like the one held hostage briefly by Malkovich's Cyrus "The Virus" while taunting hard-luck protagonist Cameron Poe. And strikingly similar to the one scooped up from the soot of a burning Vegas strip by Cage's Poe and offered to his daughter, a gesture symbolic of a tattered exterior surrounding a heart of gold. Poe wasn't much to look at. But he was a good man.
But no, it is not merely LIKE that bunny. According to this NOTE OF AUTHENTICITY, it is the VERY SAME BUNNY.
This is so awesome.
Alert: ▪ ▪ ▪ Alert: (Sburb logo)
It looks like your computer is trying to get your attention.
SBURB CLIENT SBURB version 0.0.1 Ⓒ SKAIANET SYSTEMS INCORPORATED. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. SBURB client is running. A SBURB host user is attempting to connect with you. Client has established connection with host. Press [ENTER] when ready. > _
Accelerating Straps Designing Fittings Protecting Diamond Boilers Logging Downspouts Correlating Shingles Uniting Mallets Qualifying Electrostatic Lifts Sharing Clamps Obtaining Circular Fluids Ranking Foundation Gauges Sensing Miter Brackets Originating Space Networks Translating Drills Regulating Guards Selecting Gable Padding Utilizing Pellet Dowels Reconciling Artifacts Altering Pulleys Shedding Space Filters Determining Vents Representing Mortar Remaking Flash Rakers Supporting Funnels Typecasting Rotary Chocks Expressing Junctures Resetting Auxiliary Vises Professing Strip Treads Inlaying Matter Trowels Questioning Drivers Forming Edge Fittings Sketching Blanks Overshooting Spark Breakers Rewriting Controls Playing Tunnels Inventorying Buttons Enduring Joist Handles Effecting Ratchet Bibbs Unwinding Couplings Forsaking Vapor Conduits Defining Sockets Calculating Heaters Raising Grids Administering Tiles Measuring Resources Installing Ignition Remotes Extracting Corners Manufacturing Ventilators Delegating Consoles Treating Mounting Stones Enacting Jig Deflectors Intensifying Alleys Improvising Cargo Pinpointing Bobs Prescribing Arc Masonry Structuring Metal Chucks Symbolizing Lathes Activating Plumb Kits Adapting Coatings Fixing Channels Expediting Cordage Planning Compressors Enlisting Hangers Restructuring Keyhole Augers Shearing Ridge Hardware Collecting Reciprocating Bolts Maintaining Corrugated Dimmers Whetting Hole Collars Conducting Mandrels Comparing Assets Compiling Sealants Completing Paths Composing Equivocation Wheels Computing Dampers Conceiving Electrostatic Treatment Ordering Cotter Grates Organizing Ties Orienting Ladders Exceeding Materials Targeting Thermocouples Demonstrating Emery Stock Expanding Latch Bases Training Wardrobe Adhesives Overcomming Fasteners Streamlining Storm Anchors Navigating Springs Perfecting Turnbuckles Verifying Gate Pegs Arbitrating Arithmetic Lifts Negotiating Outlets Normalizing Strips Building Surface Foggers Checking Key Torches Knitting Grinders Mowing Planers Offsetting Stencils Acquiring Bulbs Adopting Rivets Observing Avenues Ascertaining Coaxial Grommets Slinging Wing Winches Instituting Circuit Generators Instructing Wicks Integrating Pry Shutters Interpreting Immersion Lumber Clarifying Coils Classifying Wood Bits Closing Cogs Cataloging Matter Strips Charting Holders Conceptualizing Push Terminals Stimulating Supports Overthrowing Shaft Spacers Quick-freezing Connectors Unbinding Ground Hooks Analyzing Eyes Anticipating Gateways Controlling Proposition Rollers Converting Power Angles Coordinating Staples Correcting Benders Counseling Joist Gaskets Recording Gutter Pipes Recruiting Drains Rehabilitating Rafter Tubes Reinforcing Washers Reporting Guard Valves Naming Freize Sprues Nominating Rings Noting Straps Doubling Nailers Drafting Circuit Hoses Dramatizing Flanges Splitting Framing Compounds Refitting Stems Interweaving Patch Unions Placing Sillcocks Sorting Slot Threads Securing Mode Cutters Diverting Catharsis Plates Procuring Load Thresholds Transferring Syllogism Twine Directing Switch Nuts Referring Time Spools Diagnosing Knobs Discovering Locks Dispensing Hinges Displaying Hasps Resending Arc Binders Retreading Grooves Retrofitting Aesthetics Portals Seeking Stocks Shrinking Wormholes Assembling Blocks Assessing Divets Attaining Lug Boxes Auditing Nescience Passages Conserving Strikes Constructing Braces Contracting Saw Catches Serving Instantiation Irons Recognizing Fluxes Consolidating Fuse Calipers Mapping Shims Reviewing Chop Groovers Scheduling Lag Drives Simplifying Hoists Engineering Levels Enhancing Tack Hollows Establishing Finishing Blocks Estimating Adhesives Evaluating Mortar Examining Auto Turnbuckles Processing Foggers Servicing Avenues Transcribing Existence Rivets Revising Consoles Separating Absolute Stencils Budgeting Sheet Grommets Preparing Kits Realigning Cartesian Mandrels Painting Fasteners Filing Grout Hangers Finalizing Atma Augers Formulating Couplings Identifying Sillcocks Imagining Materials Inducing Shutters Influencing Wheels Licensing Chocks Lifting Extrinsic Mallets Overdrawing Ratchets Overlaying Ventilators Overriding Cardinal Soffits Specifying Element Aggregates Systemizing Divets Shaping Pockets Publicizing Aether Remotes Reducing Slot Stops Governing Archetype Dimmers Monitoring Assets Launching Manifestation Systems Transforming Soffits Reorganizing Keys Formalizing Immersion Joints Justifying Kick Extractors Advising Aggregates Managing Elbows Recasting Connectors Achieving Aluminum Trowels Officiating Disks Exhibiting Absolute Spigots Progressing Coil Hydrants Jerry-building Reflectors Informing Casters Inventing Rubber Hoists Performing Wrenches Judging Chalk Adapters Upgrading Ignition Paths Regrowing Flashing Regrowing Flashing Recommending Ratchets Approving Barriers Sweeping Impact Fillers Sewing Mirrors Detailing Collectors Enforcing Measures Distributing Systems Presenting Plugs Interwinding Registers Piloting Ash Diffusers Gathering Cranks Supplying Eave Pockets Undertaking Scroll Stops SBURB
[Mouseover the interface buttons. -AH]
You find your missing STACK FETCH MODUS, and quickly reapply it to your SYLLADEX. You can now opt for either the STACK or QUEUE modus any time.
You toggle between your FETCH MODI with gleeful abandon.
It looks like your DAD is leaving again for more baking supplies. You're relieved to have the house to yourself again, if only for a few minutes.
You just hope he doesn't notice the MAGIC CHEST on the roof. Or all the shit you threw out the window, for that matter.
You cannot select a PLAYER!
JOHN abjures the meddlesome cursor.
Cruxtruder Totem Lathe Alchemiter
You don't know what the heck this thing does, but it looks neat!
Build Grist: 16/20
Pre-punched Card Alchemiter Cruxtruder
Punch Designix Pre-punched Card Alchemiter
SERIOUS BUSINESS The following matters have been submitted in a frank and forthright manner for pipefan413's judicious appraisal. f grayslacks66 - 17:24 Decided to return home for fresh tie. Soiled tie will be laundered immediately upon return f wellPressedAttire - 17:23 Use ballpoint pen to roll up tip of cloth. Extract pen. Press rolled cloth against ceramic surface, e.g. restroom sink. In future: consider repositioning hat hook and/or coffee pot. f officeurchin1280 - 17:23 Photographic documentation of incident? f grayslacks66 - 17:22 Was posturing unevenly to reach for hat on wall hook. Tip of tie slipped in open mouth of pot. Duration of "dunk": approx. 3 seconds. f 2busy4this - 17:22 pl elab on 'incident' f grayslacks66 - 17:21 Need counsel on removing coffee from necktie. Incident occurred 45 seconds ago. Beverage essences rapidly settling into fabric. [SYSTEM]
You grab the PDA, switching back to STACK MODUS so it is readily accessible.
The interface is oddly sterile. No hilarious clown wallpapers or anything like that. (Oops, you mean harlequin wallpapers.)
The SERIOUS BUSINESS application is open. It seems your DAD uses it to keep tabs on various acquaintances... his fellow street performers, maybe?
You guess the performing arts must be pretty serious business after all.
PESTERCHUM 6.0 CHAT CLIENT CHUMROLL: o turntableGodhead O tentacleTherapist o gardenGnostic [PESTER!] MYCHUMHANDLE: O ectoBiologist MOOD: [O CHUMMY ] [O BULLY ✓ ] [O PALSY ] [O PEPPY ] [O CHIPPER ] [O RANCOROUS ] [PESTERCHUM] [SB] [SYSTEM]
This should be useful. Now you can keep tabs on your chums while you wander around the house.
You have no idea what to do with this thing. You can't find any controls for it.
Having exhausted all other possibilities, you just decide to stand on it.
This isn't very cautious of you, actually.
It is a clear, sunny day. Nothing out of the ordinary to report. At least, not beyond the walls of your own home.
16/20 --> 14/20
You jump down to the UTILITY ROOM.
strife specibus sylladex: strife deck hammerkind
You take the SLEDGEHAMMER and the CAPTCHALOGUE CARD, combine the two, and quickly apply it to your STRIFE SPECIBUS.
You think it's cool that things don't always have to be a federal fucking issue.
Alert: ▪ ▪ ▪
It looks like another one of your chums is pestering you on your PDA.
14/20 --> 12/20
When you turn the wheel, something seems to be pushing up from underneath the lid.
But you aren't strong enough to make the lid come off!
On the tub's journey to the driveway, the connection is interrupted.
4:13 -> 4:12 -> 4:11 -> 4:10
4:03 -> 4:02 -> 4:01
You extrude ONE (1) CRUXITE DOWEL.
A SHARD OF GLASS is expelled from the deck and maims the HARLEQUIN DOLL.
You take TWO (2) FANCIFUL HARLEQUINS.
The additional useless freight pushes your PDA to the last card. You then switch to the QUEUE MODUS so you can access the PDA.
More glass shrapnel flies from the deck.
The KERNELSPRITE has been prototyped with the HARLEQUIN DOLL.
There is no slot for a card anywhere to be found on the ALCHEMITER!
The KERNELSPRITE followed you upstairs.
Perfectly Generic Object 2
Acquiring a CRUXITE DOWEL seems to have populated the ATHENEUM with one item: a PERFECTLY GENERIC OBJECT.
You snatch the TELESCOPE from its TRIPOD. Who knows, it might be useful. But more importantly, it pushes the CRUXITE to the last card making it available for tinkering.
The PDA is predictably jettisoned into the yard, over the neighbor's fence.
You place the CRUXITE DOWEL on the ALCHEMITER'S small pedestal.
Something is happening...
12/20 --> 6/20
You set the ALCHEMITER to cast THREE (3) PERFECTLY GENERIC OBJECTS for some reason, expending a total of 6 units of BUILD GRIST.
These things look completely useless. What a waste!
Out of the corner of your eye, you notice there's something in the sky.
You switch back to STACK MODUS and get a closer look with your TELESCOPE.
Whatever it is, the KERNELSPRITE seems particularly agitated about it.
3:10 -> 3:09 -> 3:08 -> 3:07 -> 3:06 -> 3:05 -> 3:04 -> 3:03 -> 3:02 -> 3:01 -> 3:00
You're no astronomer, but its trajectory looks suspiciously head-on with your current perspective.
This is a troubling development.
You figure you've left him hanging long enough.
Made With Real Fruit EXCELLENT SOURCE OF VITAMIN C RE-DO YOUR RO- SWEEPSTAKES YOU COULD WIN $10,000 Betty Crocker Fruit Gushers Rockin' Blue Raspberry
It is tempting because they strongly resemble Rockin' Blue Raspberry Gushers. However, units of BUILD GRIST are a gaming abstraction and do not seem to exist on the physical plane!
There is apparently no crisis so imminent that will deter you from contemplating idiotic and frivolous actions.
6/20 --> 2/20
Alert: ▪ ▪ ▪ Alert: ▪ ▪ ▪
Two chums have been trying to message you.
You slip the PRE-PUNCHED CARD into a slot on the TOTEM LATHE. Above, the TOOL ARM deploys a configuration of chisels.
Now you just need something to lathe.
Cursing your lack of foresight, you return to the BALCONY for the CRUXITE DOWEL you left on the pedestal.
You navigate the hallway leery of your DAD, who is presently puzzling over the new fixture in his hallway.
The perfect crime.
You retrieved the CRUXITE DOWEL.
DAD just shrugs and heads back downstairs, presumably to do some more baking.
If only he knew you were hard at work saving his ass.
You clamp the CRUXITE in the lathe.
The lathe carves ONE (1) TOTEM.
You take the TOTEM.
2:10 -> 2:09 -> 2:08 -> 2:07 -> 2:06 -> 2:05 -> 2:04 -> 2:03 -> 2:02 -> 2:01 -> 2:00
A young lady stands in her bedroom. Due to a violent storm, her house has just lost power, along with her wireless internet connection. This has severed her link to a popular video game she was playing with a young man at a critical moment. That young man is relying on this young lady to reestablish a connection somehow. This young lady named...
It's on the tip of your tongue. What was the name of this young lady again?
No, that wasn't it!
✓ ROSE LALONDE
Your name is ROSE. As was previously mentioned you are without ELECTRICITY, although your LAPTOP COMPUTER still functions on BATTERY POWER. You have a variety of INTERESTS. You have a passion for RATHER OBSCURE LITERATURE. You enjoy creative writing and are SOMEWHAT SECRETIVE ABOUT IT. You have a fondness for the BESTIALLY STRANGE AND FICTITIOUS, and sometimes dabble in PSYCHOANALYSIS. You also like to KNIT, and your room is a BIT OF A MESS. And on occasion, if just the right one strikes your fancy, you like to play VIDEO GAMES with your friends.
What will you do?
The PURPLE PACKAGE'S contents are private! No one is allowed to look inside.
Ugh, what a terrible idea! The thought alone makes you sick to your stomach.
You would only resort to such an embarrassing activity while no one was watching!!!
These journals are for your eyes only.
You captchalogue the VIOLIN, storing it the ROOT CARD of your SYLLADEX.
You waste approximately 40 seconds playing the violin while your friend is in peril.
Nice time management skills there, sweetheart!
Since your good for nothing friend is obviously not going to bail you out in time, you issue words of parting fondness to dear, sweet Liv. Oh, if only Affleck could have been the one to make the final sacrifice instead of her stubborn, blue collar, salt-of-the-earth father. Then she would fall into your arms for consolation, and YOU would be the one to make the deceased Bruce Willis proud.
You get the KNITTING BAG. It occupies the LEFT LEAF CARD under the VIOLIN, per the TREE MODUS'S alphabetical sorting method.
K < V.
Your panoramic window offers a view of your yard below, and the mausoleum housing your dead cat, JASPERS, who died when you were young. Your MOM had the structure erected with a spirit of scornful IRONY in response to your youthfully innocent request to hold a funeral for the animal. At least, that is how you have come to interpret the gesture in retrospect.
You can also make out a silhouette of the LABORATORY next door, a facility which likely broadcasts a strong WIRELESS INTERNET SIGNAL. You may be able to connect to the signal from a different part of the house. Perhaps if you seek higher ground?
You take your LAPTOP and prepare to make the journey through the house.
L < V. L > K.
This causes the tree to be unbalanced, so your SYLLADEX auto-balances itself. Now the LAPTOP occupies the ROOT CARD, while the other two items comprise the LEAVES.
K < L. V > L.
GRIMOIRE FOR SUMMONING THE ZOOLOGICALLY DUBIOUS
This book is absolutely indispensable for enthusiasts of your ilk. Of which there are very few.
You take the GRIMOIRE.
G < L, G < K.
You leave your BEDROOM.
Hanging just next to your door in the hallway is a painting of an EXQUISITE WIZARD. Your mother collects these awful things IRONICALLY. She must know how much you detest them, and there is no doubt in your mind she stores these dreadful things in the house to bother you.
Down the hall to the right is the way to the OBSERVATORY. Perhaps you will be able to connect from up there?
Your mother's room is also in that direction. You will have to watch your step.
You approach a juncture in the hallway. Beyond the juncture is the OBSERVATORY.
This door leads up to the OBSERVATORY. You haven't ventured up there in quite some time.
The door opens to an exterior walkway, leading to the observatory entrance.
You've seen less inclement weather before. Oh the things you'll do to help out a friend.
You first put your LAPTOP down on the floor to get it situated.
But removing it from the ROOT CARD causes all the branches and leaves to be severed! Your items are dumped unceremoniously on the floor.
You're in a hurry, sure, but that doesn't mean you can't take moment to peek through the HUGE TELESCOPE.
You find a gap in the clouds. It seems a flurry of smaller METEOROIDS is streaking steadily overhead. You're not sure what this means, but it is somewhat disconcerting.
You'll need every advantage you can get.
CETUS http://www.gamefaqs.com/doswin/home/927614.html SBURB BETA Gamespot GameFaqs Email Password [ ][ ][login] Sign up|Forgot Password? Search [All Platforms] [go] Home | What's New | Contribute | Features | Boards | My Games | Answers | Help Platforms: DS | GBA | GameCube | PC | PS2 | PS3 | Wii | Xbox | Xbox 360 | All Systems PC >> Miscellanous >> Immersive Simulation Sburb Beta Home | Data | FAQs | Cheats | Images | My Games | Answers | Board | Check Prices Sburb Beta Page 1 of 176 Back to: Bo- SBURB SERVER Lost connection with client. RECONNECTING... > _ AVAILABLE WIRELESS NETWORKS SN_LAB0413 UNSECURED SN_LAB9687 SECURED SN_LAB1802 SECURED SN_LAB5565 SECURED SBURB SERVER Lost connection with client. RECONNECTING... Server has established connection with client. > _ [HD] [scraps] [leavings] [detritus]
There are several signals being broadcasted from the LABORATORY, each of relatively decent strength.
One of them is mysteriously and quite conveniently UNSECURED, requiring no password.
You select the signal, and reconnect to the game with John.
0:41 -> 0:40 -> 0:39 -> 0:38 -> 0:37 -> 0:36 -> 0:35 -> 0:34 -> 0:33 -> 0:32 -> 0:31
2/20 --> 0/20
There goes the rest of your BUILD GRIST.
You probably should have just done this in the first place.
Got to get those stupid blocks out of the way first!
The KERNELSPRITE is getting awfully worked up about all this!
You store the PERFECTLY GENERIC OBJECTS in your PHERNALIA REGISTRY, potentially to be deployed at a later time.
The KERNEL divides. The two halves go their separate ways, leaving behind the SPRITE portion.
What is left of the SPRITE undergoes a mysterious transformation.
For a moment you thought you heard someone say "BOY", as if whispered in the periphery of your awareness.
It was probably just your imagination though.
spriteclicks WHAT'S THAT It looks different now. After you bit that APPLE, your whole house seemed to be trasported somewhere. Then the APPLE disappeared and the KERNELSPRITE underwent a transformation. Aside from the change in appearance, the transformation doesn't seem to have any relevant ramifications. You still can't understand a word this idiot says. THE GHOST CLOWN. DO SOMETHING WITH IT. The 'GHOST CLOWN' is called the KERNELSPRITE! Or, rather just the SPRITE now, I suppose. You can't 'DO SOMETHING' with it at the moment! The only thing you can theoretically do with it is TIER 2 PROTOTYPE IT, assuming that's still possible... TIER PROTO TYPE THE SPRITE, OR THE THING YOU SAID. DO IT. You are not the one who is supposed to prototype it! The SBURB SERVER USER is supposed to do that. charClicks YOU THERE. BOY. ...What? BOY. LISTEN TO ME, BOY. His name is John, you nincompoop. BOY WHO IS JOHN. DO AS I SAY. What would you like 'BOY WHO IS JOHN' to do? OBEY MY COMMANDS, JOHN BOY. And those commands would be...? I WOULD LIKE THE BOY TO INTERACT WITH HIS ENVIRONMENT IN A CONSTRUCTIVE MANNER. Maybe you should be a little more specific? HAVE THE BOY ASSESS HIS CURRENT SITUATION. I'm afraid I can't 'HAVE THE BOY' do that. Tell him to do it yourself! VERY WELL. ...Ok. ==> That instruction does not do anything at the moment!!! ==> Sigh. Could you please turn the controls over to a more competent user? ASLFSAKLADAK Increasingly sophomoric. Also, you almost spelled 'SALAD' in there. outsideCuffs CLAIM THE DANGLING TREE-BAUBLE. The TRICK HANDCUFFS are still there! THANK GOD. And no, you are not about to try to 'claim' them just now. outsideSwing BOY, ENGAGE THIS MANGLED TRAPESE-DISPLAY. Looks like your SWING SET is toast. You relive fond memories in a moment of sorrow. outsideSlimer PONDER LAWN AMUSEMENT. Your childhood nemesis, the SPRING-MOUNTED POGO-RIDE, sadly was not swallowed by the void. It will have to wait another day for its comeuppance. outsideWires FIDDLE WITH THE BRIGHT SPARKLY THINGS. That sounds incredibly dangerous! John sensibly disregards your awful advice. outsideGauge ADMIRE THIS WALL-MOUNTED GADGET. Through some mysterious force, your house still seems to be powered, even though the wires are severed. Quite bizarre. utilCabinet OPEN THESE AND RIFLE THROUGH THEM FOR GOODS. You don't give a shit about what's in there! Probably nothing you'd be inclined to use now anyway. utilWasher THIS IS NO TIME FOR LAUNDRY. You're right. Thank you for being sensible about it. kitchPhone THIS IS A TELEPHONE, BOY. USE IT. The phone doesn't work! kitchBowl PEEK IN BOWL OF GOO. Wherever your DAD went, he seems to have left in a hurry. For all his absurdities you have to put up with, you sure wish he were here right now. kitchBetty SAMPLE POWDERED UNCOOKED DESSERT. Back ye miserable wench! Stay thy choking airborne particulates of temptation!!! KitchBook THIS BOOK IS TOO BIG FOR A YOUNG STUPID BOY. COLONEL SASSACRE'S is your favorite book! Almost as favorite as WISE GUY! They are both your favoritest of all time! kitchHutch PLUNDER CHEST. Would you like to play a game? kitchSplats EXAMINE THIS SMEARED SUBSTANCE. Is this... Oil? You wonder what happened in here. Where's your DAD? kitchPlant SNIFF VEGETABLE. Doesn't smell like anything. studyRack DISREGARD THIS NONSENSE. Your DAD used this stuff sometimes to dazzle you with his silly vaudevillian escapades. Really, you couldn't roll your eyes hard enough at his corny act. studyMagazine READ UNPLEASANT LITERATURE. SERIOUS JESTER MAGAZINE. FOR THOSE FOR WHOM CLOWNING AROUND IS SERIOUS BUSINESS. studyCan CONSUME NUT. You would, but you're not sure if this dark realm has any hospitals. studySafe OPEN THIS IRON VAULT, BOY. You don't know the combination!!! studyClown2 SEEK THE RICHES HE GUARDS BELOW. This one offers a friendly wave. But yeah, this is really just another stupid piece of shit. studyWindow LOOK HERE. It's dark out there. Can't see anything for miles. studyPic2 I SEE TREACHERY IN HIS EYES. Oh, he doesn't look so bad. studyPic1 THIS MAN IS AN IMBECILE. IGNORE HIM. He's alright. Looks like he doesn't take himself to seriously, and knows how to have a good time. You can only assume your DAD hung it crooked to make it look more 'whimsical'. studyJoker IT HAS A KNIFE. BE ALARMED BY THIS. R.I.P. Ledger. studyClown1 THROW THIS UGLY THING OUT THE WINDOW. You will not do that intentionally! You only resort to throwing stuff out the window via SYLLADEX mismanagement. studyPipe IS THIS TOBACCO BURNING APPARATUS? Yuck. You still have pipe-taste in your mouth. studyMural INSPECT THIS MERRY BAND OF PERFORMERS. Cirque du Soleil once filed a restraining order against your father. You were never so embarrassed in your life. studyCards THIS IS A MESS, BOY. You're so glad your DAD wasn't watching when you did this. He never would have let you hear the end of it. studyPiano OPERATE THIS INSTRUMENT. You play your favorite haunting refrain. bathWindow PEER THROUGH THAT WINDOW. At least your back yard was salvaged too. Sort of. bathToilet YOUR PLUMBING APPEARS FAULTY. Man, Rose did such a piss-poor job of fixing the bathroom. It would almost certainly be a mistake to try to use the toilet! You guess you could just go pee over the edge of the cliff... bathTub YOUR PLUMBING APPEARS FAULTY. Man, Rose did such a piss-poor job of fixing the bathroom. It would almost certainly be a mistake to try to use the toilet! You guess you could just go pee over the edge of the cliff... hallPic I AM NOT FOND OF THIS SMUG FELLOW. THE MAN. THE MYTH. THE LEGEND. What do you have up your sleeve there, Anderson? Look at that poker face. He's not telling a soul! hallDoorDad OPEN THIS. Your DAD'S room is still locked!!! roomMonsters INSPECT THIS GHASTLY MAN AND HIS BOY. 'Fred Savage has a punchable face' your ass! More like a talented young actor's face who you would want to hang out with if you got the chance, and also if he were not a fully grown man now. Anyway, the thought of monsters lurking in your house scares the shit out of you, which is why this movie is so awesome. But the fact that those monsters could also be your BEST FRIEND is what makes it DOUBLY AWESOME. roomCpu INVESTIGATE THIS DEVICE. It seems you are still connected to the internet. Rose is trying to get in touch with you. You will reply in a moment, once you have fully assessed your situation. roomBook THIS FUNNYMAN TEXT. YOU SHOULD IGNORE IT. Just looking at the cover cracks you up! What a great book. Harry Anderson is your hero, and Mike Caveney's glowing treatment of the man does him every bit of justice. You'll have to give this another read soon. roomLathe THIS HUGE SEWING MACHINE. OF WHAT USE IS IT. The PUNCH CARD seemed to contain the instructions for carving a TOTEM of a certain shape. You guess maybe other PUNCH CARDS will produce different shapes? It bears further exploration. roomWindow BOY, LOOK THROUGH THIS WINDOW. At least your TIRE SWING remains unmolested. A tree without a tire swing is like... Like a house without a surrounding neighborhood, you guess.), roomMacnme MARVEL AT THIS ADVENTURE IN OUTER SPACE. This movie is... Ok, this movie is really bad. Not even you can defend it. You've been meaning to take this poster down, actually. roomGhostbusters ARMED FOES OF THE DECEASED? Most people say the second one was not as great as the first, but you feel just the opposite. It was really cool and sort of gross how they hosed each other down with slime that made people angry. TG refers to the film as 'nasty manbro bukkake theater', whatever the hell that means. roomConair IS THAT JOHN CUSACK? Yeah, you guess so, but damn that door be coverin' up your man Cage something serious. That ain't cool! roomTowel ACQUIRE THIS SMALL PERSIAN RUG. It's a towel, dumbass! It will probably come in handy for cleaning up this weird mess in your room. Not that it's a huge priority, though. roomSplats EXAMINE THIS UNPLEASANT FLUID. What is this stuff? roomBox OBSERVE THIS BOX. THE BUNNY IS NOT IN THE BOX. I SAID, THE BUNNY IS NOT IN THE BOX. WHY COULDN'T THE BUNNY BE IN THE BOX? roomBedDoor THIS DOOR. EXPLAIN THIS. Rose sure did a number on your house. But you guess she did manage to save your life. YOU GUESS. livingQuin2 NO NO NO NO NO. KEEP MOVING. Believe me, you have no intention of turning your head to observe this dreadful thing. livingQuin1 I DETEST THIS! DISREGARD IT? The HARLEQUIN PAINTING? You have the sentiment in common with John then, I suppose. livingBeagle THAT MAN WITH THE HUMOROUS SPECTACLES. ADMIRE HIM. Oh, Michael Cera. Your warm smile is a shining beacon in these dark times. balcRail PEEK OVER THE RAILING. Getting close to the railing makes you a little nervous. It's a long way down. balcCruxite EXAMINE THE STRANGE BLUE VASE. It is the piece of CRUXITE you carved with the TOTEM LATHE. When its contours were scanned, the ALCHEMITER was able to produce that tree. How odd! balcAlchemiter THIS LARGE PLATFORM. GOOD GRIEF, WHAT IS IT BOY? The ALCHEMITER created the APPLE, or the tree that sprouted it rather, right on time to save you from destruction. You're not sure if you can say the same for your neighborhood though. You wonder what happened to your DAD? char YOU THERE. BOY. ...What? balcDoor BOY, OPEN THIS DOOR AND WALK THROUGH IT. livingDoorBalc WAIT GO BACK OUT HERE BOY. livingDoorRoom BOY, GO IN HERE. livingDoorHall WHAT IS DOWN HERE. PROCEED, BOY. livingDoorKitchen THIS WAY. THROUGH THE DOORS LIKE YOU SEE IN A COWBOY SALOON. livingDoorStudy HERE BOY. IN HERE. studyDoor RETURN TO THE LARGE ROOM WITH THE GROSS PAINTINGS. roomDoor GO OUT OF THE DOOR THAT IS NOT HERE. hallDoorBath GO IN THERE NOW. hallArrow NO GO BACK. bathArrow LEAVE AT ONCE. kitchArrow RETURN TO THE ROOM WITH THE DEAD HAG'S REMAINS. kitchDoor OPEN THIS DOOR NOW. utilArrow GO BACK INTO THE LUNCHEON PARLOR. livingCrux MOVE THIS ABSURD EDIFICE AND EXIT YOUR HOUSE, BOY. This thing weighs a ton! You'd honestly be surprised if the game cursor could lift it, or at least not without a significant expense of GRIST. Of all the places for Rose to drop the infernal thing. More than ever you feel... what's the word you're looking for? Of course. Housetrapped. utilDoor EXIT, BOY. outsideDoor BACK INTO THE HOUSE WITH YOU. kitchDrawing EXAMINE THIS ARTWORK. Your DAD was so proud when you drew this. He hung it up immediately and it's stayed there ever since. That was one week ago. kSprite WHAT'S THAT It looks different now. After you bit that APPLE, your whole house seemed to be trasported somewhere. Then the APPLE disappeared and the KERNELSPRITE underwent a transformation. Aside from the change in appearance, the transformation doesn't seem to have any relevant ramifications. You still can't understand a word this idiot says. livingDolls DESTROY THESE DIMINUTIVE SOLDIERS OF MERRIMENT. It hardly seems worth it to go to the bother. You doubt you could get much for them at a garage sale even. Maybe a grubby palm of pennies and a kick in the nuts for the whole lot of 'em. livingPokers WIELD THESE INSTRUMENTS OF COMBAT. Any one of these things would make a fine weapon. If only your STRIFE SPECIBUS wasn't already allocated. Oh well. livingUrn TOPPLE THIS URN IMMEDIATELY. That would be disrespectful to your NANNA! You just won't do it!! Or not intentionally at least!!! You consider that it is fortunate she is no longer around to witness this sorrow. On the other hand, you would probably benefit from her elderly wisdom now... livingSoot STOW LUMP OF SOOT FOR FUTURE USE, BOY. That stuff is really dirty and you don't want it! Besides, you have it on good authority that a significant portion of it is comprised of asbestos. livingLid USE THIS TO RESEAL THAT OPENING THERE. If only putting the lid back on the CRUXTRUDER would undo all it's done. Alas, Pandora's Tube has been opened. livingPie A SMALL DESSERT TRAY? USELESS. In retrospect, it was pretty funny when your DAD pied you like that. Gotcha'd again by the old man! livingLamp WHY DOES THIS SMALL MAN STAND HERE? This HARLEQUIN is always ready to serve you with illumination, whether you're reading a book, or just enjoying a nice pipe. livingQuin4 UGH, NO. So coy. So mysterious. livingQuin3 VILE. PAY NO MIND TO THIS FILTH. What is he even doing there? Playing with a ball or something? Clowns are stupid. livingHead WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS RUBBISH. Ok, even YOU have to admit. This one's pretty funny! hehehehe! vault01 SHENANIGANS PSSafe Retrieve arms from safe. You already HAVE arms stupid! Shoot safe With what? PSDesk Make desk into fort and visit IMAGINATION LAND! Wow......So like... Where can I get some of YOUR drugs? PSWindow Unplug window ...It's a window... Pick up window That is so infeasable it hurts me. PSPumpkin WOAH, WHAT? THIS IS THE PUMPKIN? HOLYSHITHOLYSHITHOLYSHIT!!!!!!1111 No it's pumpkin shaped graffiti... GAME DEV FACTS: All Elements (but the pumpkin) drawn by Andrew Hussie in Photoshop, imported and subsequently vectorized, organized, named, and scripted by Alexis 'Gankro' Beingessner... Who is a guy...148 Objects, 538 lines, 140 bitmaps, 9 souls, 2 pumpkins, This line of code is 16732 characters...
For the last time, this boy's name is John!!!
You go back up to your bedroom, tiptoeing around this weird petroleum-based sludge.
The TOWEL? Why?
Oh well, you're the boss. You captchalogue the TOWEL. What now?
John makes his way to the balcony per your awkwardly-worded request.
You whimsically decide to captchalogue the TOTEM which was used to create the APPLE TREE earlier.
John cannot do anything with the GRIST as of this moment! That is up to the Sburb player.
Yes, that will suffice.
Rose deletes the PERFECTLY GENERIC OBJECTS. 6 units of BUILD GRIST are restored to your GRIST CACHE.
Rose expends the GRIST to drag a new plank from the balcony in the direction of the PDA.
John isn't sure about that. It's a long way down.
John is very nervous about the idea, and the strident tone of your commands is starting to make him a little upset!
You cautiously walk within range of the PDA. Rose retrieves it.
You grab the PDA, launching one of the HARLEQUIN FIGURINES into the night.
You can kiss that one goodbye.
Just one ==> command will suffice. Thanks.
It looks like you're not the only one trying to locate your father after the disaster.
What? No! That sounds incredibly dangerous!
Now you're just being a pest.
Which turnip truck did you just tumble out of, anyway?
Who are you?
In the distance, meteorites fall with greater frequency. The fire in the forest burns so hot, not even the rain is putting it out!
Your LAPTOP BATTERY is alright for now, but it won't be for long.
If the power in the house doesn't come back on, you can think of one last resort: the small BACKUP GENERATOR stored behind the MAUSOLEUM.
The SPRITE is playing hard to get! You guess that's what you get for originally prototyping it with something that engenders mischief and pranksterism!
Pipe down, you. This is Rose's decision, not yours!
The SPRITE finds the DISTRACTING MANNER in which you FLAIL ABOUT to be rather DISTRACTING.
The pesky SPRITE eludes you again! Not even the great Colonel himself can outfox it!!!
In narrowly missing with your attempt to create the COLONELSPRITE, you drop the massive tome. The entire house rattles under the astonishing girth of the book.
In the other room, NANNA'S ASHES dump onto the SPRITE, which is caught unawares by the dousing.
You find the SACRED URN toppled again. This time you're quite sure it wasn't your fault!
The SPRITE is nowhere to be found.
You are about to head upstairs, but you thought you heard something behind you.
It was faint, but you could swear it was a small, lighthearted chuckle. Along the lines of a spirited "Hoo-hoo-hoo!"
You're not sure you even saw a woman, let alone any of her hypothetical antics. But whatever it was you might have caught a glimpse of, it sure gave you the willies.
You head upstairs on your way to the balcony. Your PDA is acting up again.
You head out to the balcony to find out what Rose has in mind. She is messaging you again.
You're inclined to agree, but hey, accidents happen. You double check your PDA to make sure if Rose is really gone. Indeed this seems to be the case.
TG is still pestering you of course. But another chum is now logged in as well.
Your LAPTOP is out of BATTERY POWER. There's only one thing left to do. Time to make your way to that BACKUP GENERATOR.
That would be such a waste of time!
Besides, you already knitted one a while ago. You retrieve it from your KNITTING BAG and apply it to your LAPTOP.
You captchalogue the LAPTOP PLUS COZY.
That would be incredibly ill-advised!
There are some dark forces you just don't want to mess around with. You understand this better than most.
You put the book down.
You grab the KNITTING BAG and the GRIMOIRE, in that order. It's always a logistical puzzle with your TREE MODUS.
The tree AUTO-BALANCES, leaving the KNITTING BAG accesible in the ROOT CARD.
You feel a lot more comfortable with this as a weapon. You're so handy with those needles, you feel like you could probably use them to filet a sword fish.
You lose the ROOT CARD in the process, severing the tree.
Hey, careful with all that stuff!
That would also be a preposterous waste of time!!!
Besides, you're quite sure you've never heard of this creature called "Cthulhu" before. There are however many other specimens of the ZOOLOGICALLY DUBIOUS you're familiar with.
FLUTHLU, FOUL PATRICIAN OF MISERY. To hear his mammoth belly gurgle is to know the Epoch of Joy has come to an abrupt end.
And NRUB'YIGLITH, SHAMEBEAST KING OF GROTESQUERY, WRITHE-LORD OF THE MOIST BEYONDHOOD. Hearing his melodious chirps and tongue-clicks causes one's bones to explode.
And of course there's OGLOGOTH, THE DEEP ONE. Whenever he grinds his teeth, all the children of a random galaxy somewhere will frown continuously for a nine thousand year span. He is the first and smallest of the SMALLER GODS, appointed in servitude of a vile, unfathomable pantheon of MIDDLING GODS which caters to the whims of the NOBLE CIRCLE OF HORRORTERRORS, an omniscient, omnipotent order of the elite few, forever cloaked in the darkness of the FURTHEST RING.
And then there's this strange page containing some rather mysterious notes on summoning procedures. You've never been quite sure what these diagrams are getting at.
You re-captchalogue everything the way you want it to appear in the tree, and head downstairs.
You figure that's enough dilly-dallying. Time to get a move on!
You wonder if this rain will ever let up. It's driven since the month began, perhaps long enough to forget its purpose. It no longer even knows to assuage fire. Somewhere a zealous god threads these strings between the clouds and the earth, preparing for a symphony it fears impossible to play. And so it threads on, and on, delaying the raise of the conductor's baton.
How you hate this season.
"April is the cruelest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire, stirring dull roots with spring rain." -American sports legend, Charles Barkley
Surely your mother is lurking nearby. You should be prepared for an unpleasant confron...
There's this really cool dude, ok? He's standing around being all chill, like cool dudes are known to do sometimes. A cool dude like this probably has a real cool name. But he probably wouldn't just tell you what it was if you asked. He'd be way too busy for that. Busy being totally sweet.
But you could always try to guess his name. And if you were right, he might nod ever so slightly. That's a cool dude's way of letting you know there might just be hope for you yet.
This guy doesn't have time for this sort of bullshit.
Your name is DAVE. It is an UNSEASONABLY WARM April day. Your BEDROOM WINDOW is open to let some air in, and your FAN is cranked. Arguably even more cranked would be your FLY BEATS, which brings us to your variety of INTERESTS. A cool dude like you is sure to have plenty. You have a penchant for spinning out UNBELIEVABLY ILL JAMS with your TURNTABLES AND MIXING GEAR. You like to rave about BANDS NO ONE'S EVER HEARD OF BUT YOU. You collect WEIRD DEAD THINGS PRESERVED IN VARIOUS WAYS. You are an AMATEUR PHOTOGRAPHER and operate your own MAKESHIFT DARKROOM. You maintain a number of IRONICALLY HUMOROUS BLOGS, WEBSITES, AND SOCIAL NETWORKING PROFILES. And if the inspiration strikes, you won't hesitate to drop some PHAT RHYMES on a mofo and REPRESENT.
What will you do?
This notion strikes you as nonsensical. You can't imagine how a video game could save someone's life, and in any case, you're quite sure no one you know is in any danger.
Anyway, these are your copies of the beta you received in the mail recently. You've labeled them with your name in BOLD RED PRINT to distinguish them from your BRO's copies, who labeled his in kind. Neither of you really gives a shit about this game or has any intention of playing it, but you'll be damned if you'll let that get in the way of your campaign of one-upmanship.
You would never consider allowing any fluid even remotely resembling urine to touch your beloved TURNTABLES. That would risk breaking them, and a world without the gift of your godly science just doesn't sound like a place you want any part of. While you're at it, you might as well wipe out human civilization with a meteor or something ridiculous like that which will probably never happen.
That sort of thing only happens in stupid idiot movies for stupid idiots.
You will however contemplate bleating like a goat for IRONICALLY HUMOROUS purposes at a later date.
This is your closet. This is where you keep a lot of your crap.
Like that BOX. And that bottle of... what is that?
This is the package that your friend John Egbert sent you for your 13th birthday a little while ago. It now contains nothing except a NOTE and a CERTIFICATE OF AUTHENTICITY vouching for the genuine Hollywood memorabilia which the box originally contained, and which you are now wearing to be IRONIC but also to be INCREDIBLY COOL IN A WAY SOMEHOW INTANGIBLY RELATED TO THE IRONIC NATURE OF THE ACCESSORY. You find it sort of exasperating to explain these subtleties to people.
The BOX also included a signed photo of BEN STILLER which now proudly hangs above your closet. Proudly and IRONICALLY.
You captchalogue the BOX through your HASH MAP FETCH MODUS.
Your modus's current HASH FUNCTION resolves the index by valuing each consonant at 2, and each vowel at 1. The total is divided by your number of cards, and the remainder is the index.
BOX = 2 + 1 + 2 = 5
5 % 10 = 5
The BOX is captchalogued in card 5.
Oh hell yes. It is an unopened container of APPLE JUICE. You thought you were all out. It is like fucking christmas up in here.
This is so great. You've got to tell John about this immediately. He'll be so excited.
You captchalogue the JUICE into card 7.
2+1+1+2+1 %10 = 7.
In addition to letting your buddy know about this outstanding juice windfall, you figure you'll wish him a happy birthday while you're at it. In your own cool, sort of roundabout way of course. Good thing you looked at that box he sent you, or you might have forgotten.
You also might as well ask him about that beta. The kid's been harping about it for weeks. It would be cool if it came on his birthday. He'd be one happy camper.
You open the HEPHAESTUS web browser and direct it to your ironically maintained blog where you post monthly satirical reviews of GAMEBRO MAGAZINE. Your latest post is a review of the MARCH ISSUE.
You've been meaning to write a review for the latest issue too, but you've been sort of dogging it. Something about the game they're reviewing just doesn't strike you as ripe for satirical purposes.
In a new tab you open another one of your sites, a webcomic ironically maintained through a satirical cipher vaguely similar to that of your blog. It's called SWEET BRO AND HELLA JEFF.
You have legions of devoted fans, most of whom are totally convinced of your creative persona's sincerity. Which is just how you like it.
You figure as long as you're chilling at your computer you might as well see how that new MSPA story is going. You haven't looked at it in a while.
"You are members of a sinister gang called the Midnight Crew. Your nefarious plots are serpentine in complexity. Your schemes, convoluted. You are planning a heist in your underground hideout.
What will you do?"
"Spades Slick uses OCCAM'S RAZOR to carve a circular hole into the HEIST PLANS, freeing it from the knife.
You wonder what moron would jam the knife so hard into the table in the first place."
"You push against the MANHOLE COVER, but it seems some unbelievable jackass has parked your GETAWAY VAN on top of it.
A familiar feeling stirs. That feeling is overwhelming, soul-blackening rage.
It's the sort of rage that'll make a man feel totally justified in sporting an unnecessarily elaborate assortment of fancy blades."
You don't remember where you last left off, so you jump way ahead. You always forget to save your place in the story.
It looks like tempers have become short in this pressure cooker already. You speculate that the tipping point may have been an ill-advised motion for a game of 52 PICKUP.
Even though the adventure began recently, it's already over 3000 pages long. You just don't have time for this bullshit. You'll catch up later.
Besides, it looks like someone's pestering you. You're pretty sure you know who it is.
Meanwhile in the present, in a place where the present may be a concept of dubious merit, John is spacing out.
But a vague and forceful thought jolts him to attention.
Or maybe it is that bumping sound coming from the other side of the door. What is that?
A thick, unpleasant fluid pools from beneath the door.
There is a trail of this fluid in the hall leading to your room.
You've had enough of the computer for a while. You feel like you've been messing around on it all week. It's time to get your jam on.
You pull up to your trusty AKAI MPC-1000 SAMPLER and prepare to get sicknasty.
Left knob: volume for current sample.
Right knob: master volume.
Store patterns in F1, F2, F3... buttons.
Those beats were so fresh they belong in the produce aisle, is what you're talkin' about. Soccer moms be thumpin' that shit for ripeness like melons. Know what I'm sayin'?
After beats that fresh, it would be a crime not to reward yourself with a celebratory SWIG.
2+2+1+2 %10 = 7.
You can't do it!
John's got you all twisted up inside now. All you can think about is Mandel's gross monster piss.
Damn you, Egbert!
You re-captchalogue the JUICE.
Your STRIFE SPECIBUS is already allocated with the BLADEKIND ABSTRATUS! There is no need to allocate it.
You can wield your sweet NINJA SWORD as a weapon once it is in your STRIFE DECK. But you will have to captchalogue it first before moving it there.
The NINJA SWORD (2+1+2+2+1 + 2+2+1+2+2 = 17 % 10 = 7) occupies the same card as the JUICE (2+1+1+2+1 = 7 % 10 = 7), expelling the JUICE from your SYLLADEX.
It splashes all over your TURNTABLES and your copies of the BETA.
You head out to get a TOWEL from the bathroom across the hall.
You glance at one of the many RADICAL PUPPETS in your BRO'S collection and nod in approval.
Is there anything not awesome about your BRO? No, you think not.
You enter the bathroom. There's a damp towel on the floor you can probably use for this crisis.
You stop to pay a little respect to one of your BRO'S boys up there. Hey lil' man. How's it hangin'?
You take the DAMP TOWEL (2+1+2+2 + 2+1+2+1+2 = 15 % 10 = 5), expelling the BOX (2+1+2 = 5 % 10 = 5).
Nah, you just decide to wring this towel out into the toilet to make it less damp.
It is now just a TOWEL (2+1+2+1+2 = 8 % 10 = 8).
You take the TOWEL, and grab the BOX again while you're at it.
You CLEAN (2+2+1+1+2 = 8) up the juice with the TOWEL and hang the damp BETA ENVELOPES on your line to dry off.
In the breeze of the FAN, the betas jostle near the OPEN WINDOW.
This arrangement is a little disconcerting. If they fell out, it sure would be a stupid way to lose them.
The crisis is easily averted. You can't imagine it will ever resurface later in any way, shape, or form. That beta is as good as yours, forever.
You should probably go pester Egbert again. You wonder if he found the beta yet. You also might chat about your respective SYLLADICES and FETCH MODI, if the topic happens to come up. You wonder if he is anywhere near as smooth with his sylladex as you are. Probably not. It's probably not even humanly possi...
Suddenly a RAMBUNCTIOUS CROW flies in the open window and snatches the beta, possibly to make a nest with, or maybe just for the sake of being a brainless feathery asshole.
You yell at the bird.
You accidentally launch your NINJA SWORD. Everything goes flying out the window, dead bird and all.
No one can ever know about this.
Yeah, you can kiss all that stuff goodbye. You feel sorry for the bird, but at least you never planned on ever using that beta, ever.
Anyway, now that that bit of ugliness is behind you, you guess you can look forward to several more hours of messing around in your room WHOA WAIT WHAT???
You prepare to descend the stairs to your living room. You are standing eye-to-eye with a familiar foe, a 20-foot tall granite statue of the mighty wizard, ZAZZERPAN THE LEARNED. Your mother had him installed through a hole in the roof with a heavy-duty crane.
Just look at that mystical gaze. To peer into those aloof, glassen eyes is to arrest the curiosity of any mortal. To behold the wisdom concealed in the furrows of that venerable face is to know the ceaseless joys of bewonderment itself. Any man so fortunate as to catch askance his merry twinkle or twitch of whisker shall surely have all his dreams fulfilled.
You find this grisly abomination utterly detestable.
There is nothing to psychoanalyze. Your mother clearly has no real affinity for these damnable things. She only collects them to spite you.
If anything, she finds them even more repellent than you do. She's just a committed woman.
You descend to the living room area of your home's expansive open layout. There is the sound of rushing water beneath the floor. It tends to strike guests as a strange presence in a living space, but it's become hardly audible to you through familiarity.
There's the front door. But hopefully there's no need to make the long trek around the house in the rain. You might as well see if you can slip through the kitchen and out the back unnoticed.
Ok, but it's bronze, not copper!
But it wasn't always. A while ago you gave this as an ironic gift to your MOM for mother's day. You even customized it with a drink holder to support one of her ubiquitous ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGES.
She "liked" the gift so much, she had it bronzed and put on this pedestal. She even left it plugged in so it can still be turned on now and then. But never to do any cleaning. It never leaves this display.
Sometimes at night when you are in your room, you can hear it wailing from downstairs. She MUST know you can hear it. She's completely deranged.
It's too big to captchalogue!
Not that you would want to move it anyway. The PRETTY PRINCESS DOLL has been sitting there for months, ever since your mother got this abomination for your birthday as a totally PASSIVE-AGGRESSIVE gesture.
You decided to make it much less abominable by knitting Her Majesty a new head and new arms. Now it brings a mischievous smile to your face whenever you walk by. Your mother hasn't removed the doll yet, and probably never will. She would never be the one to blink first.
U > L. U < V.
You're going to have a hell of a time accessing that card when you need it. You guess you'll just cross that bridge later.
The LIQUOR BOTTLES are out in full force. MOM is surely nearby.
That would be your REFRIGERATOR, whose surfaces have customarily served as the battlefield for a chilly siege of PASSIVE-AGGRESSIVE one-upmanship.
This was a drawing you did of your cat JASPERS when you were younger, along with a poem about him. Your mother bought this ostentatious $15,000 frame for it, and had it welded to the door.
Using the colorful MAGNET LETTERS, you recently left a succinct message, which may or may not have been directed toward anyone in particular. But you couldn't find the letter W, so you just stuck two V's together.
Your mother then purchased a fresh pack of W's and left them there for your convenience.
Appreciative of the thoughtful gesture, you left her a sincere THANK YOU NOTE, which you had legally notarized, and then marked with a drop of blood.
But part of it was touching the floor, so your mother was kind enough to lift the lower portion of the document with a VELVET PILLOW.
This is incredibly silly, and you're not sure how it fits into your campaign against your mother, OR getting your computer back online to escape your doom!
But it's hard to resist getting a little silly sometimes. Especially when you are absolutely positive no one is watching.
W > L. W > V.
But that unsightly void in the W pack won't do, nor will the gash in the plastic.
You deposit 12 CENTS in its place, which is your approximation of the letter's value. You also make a vow to return later and neatly sew the plastic shut.
You now wonder how to address the pillow situation. It seems the woman has you at a clear disadvantage.
Perhaps slipping a fresh doily under the pillow will do the trick? Or maybe spilling a bit of WORCESTERSHIRE SAUCE on it, and then having it dry-cleaned and returned along with a laboriously ingratiating apology note? No, there's no time for anything like that. Or maybe (just thinking out loud here) you could use the entire pack of W's as M's? Oh yes, that would burn.
But you've already done something with that W pack, and there's no need to go back and gild that lily. This is delicate business. And that pillow is screaming for rebuttal.
You decide to take the VELVET PILLOW and lovingly embroider a poem in praise of MOTHERHOOD on it. Hopefully you can pull this off before she notices it's gone.
Ve > L. Ve < Vi. Ve > U.
But it causes your tree to be pretty badly unbalanced. It surely will AUTO-BALANCE itself in a moment.
And just like that, the UMBRELLA becomes accessible in the ROOT CARD. That's one of the things you love about the TREE MODUS. The happy surprises.
Ok, enough's enough. Time to get goiAUGH
You don't know how she does that. You're never safe in this house.
And of all things to be doing during a power outage. She's up to her IRONIC HOUSEWIFE routine again. That mop bucket doesn't even have any water in it! What an absolute madwoman.
This bird's gotta fly!
Lousy goddamn stupid wizards.
You're almost done patching up the hole in your window with the GAFFER TAPE.
But it's sort of hard to get any work done when people keep pestering you all day. You guess you better get that.
It will be handy to have your PHONE (2+2+1+2+1 = 8%10 = 8) on standby so you won't always have to go back to your computer whenever someone pesters you. This way you can TEXT MESSAGE (2+1+2+2 + 2+1+2+2+1+2+1 = 18%10 = 8) people no matter where you are or what outrageously cool thing you're up to.
And even meanerwhile, in the present. Sort of.
Once again, the slippery antagonist eludes you. You only find more of these unpleasant oily smears.
Someone is pestering you. Both your PDA and computer register the message.
Only retarded babies who poop in their diapers believe in that stuff.
It looks like MOM has satisfied her [S] STRIFE! quota for the day. She simply returns to her housework.
No point in going out the front door anymore. Might as well head out the back, like you originally planned.
You can't be this stupid pony, and frankly you can't imagine why anyone would want to!
But you give the pony a begrudging pat on the snout anyway.
Her name is MAPLEHOOF.
You're TRYING to read, ok? This book is already unpleasant enough as it is without weird voices in your head nagging you to do things.
Besides, I thought we already agreed there's no such thing as monsters.
Fine, you'll interrupt your reading and turn around, but you don't see what could possibly be so oh my god it's a monster.
You leave through the back door.
Nearby is the TRANSFORMER which distributes electricity from the UNDERGROUND GENERATOR powered by the river flowing beneath your house.
The transformer was struck by lightning though, and no longer works. You wonder if your mother has any plans to have it fixed. You guess she'd rather just play her mind games in a dark house like a weirdo.
You can see the MAUSOLEUM and the PORTABLE GENERATOR across your back yard. You're almost there.
You regather your items and begin the soggy trek mausoleum-ward.
Retrieving the W never even crossed your mind. It's just a stupid magnet.
Now why couldn't he put the bunny back in the box?
The amazing victory allows you to scale the first two ACHIEVEMENT RUNGS on your ECHELADDER. You are now a PLUCKY TOT, with a new feather in your cap to show for it.
The ECHELADDER rewards your bold ascent with 125 BOONDOLLARS. You waste little time in storing them in your CERAMIC PORKHOLLOW.
Additionally, climbing the rungs has boosted your GEL VISCOSITY and CACHE LIMIT.
By expanding your CACHE LIMIT, you've made room for all that nice grist you just collected. You now have 32 fragments of BUILD GRIST, and 10 fragments of SHALE.
It seems the SHALE IMP had allocated the BUNNY to its STRIFE SPECIBUS.
Sort of a stupid thing to use for a weapon, but you might as well grab it, and stick the BUNNY in your STRIFE DECK while you're at it. It will at the very least be safer there.
You group the two SPECIBI in your STRIFE PORTFOLIO.
No self-respecting strifer would be caught dead without one.
Oddly enough, it seems breaking the SLEDGEHAMMER altered the ABSTRATUS from HAMMERKIND to HANDLEKIND, even going as far as expelling the head of your smaller HAMMER from your deck to force compliance. You didn't even notice in the heat of the battle.
You grab the SLEDGEHAMMER HANDLE, expelling the useless HARLEQUIN FIGURINE.
You merge the SLEDGEHAMMER HEAD with its HANDLE, and return it to your STRIFE DECK, repairing the HAMMERKIND ABSTRATUS in the process.
The smaller HAMMER HANDLE is ejected from the deck, since of course handles of any sort no longer belong in there. Obviously.
Dave is pestering you. But you don't have time to deal with his nonsense right now.
Something is amiss in your room. You can't quite put your finger on it...
You fire up the GENERATOR and drag a cord into the MAUSOLEUM.
It of course would be foolish to run the GENERATOR inside a confined space. GENERATOR SAFETY is everyone's business.
Sorry, Jaspers. Have to make space for the LAPTOP.
Besides, your final resting place is already a mockery. You should have decomposed years ago under a bed of petunias like a normal cat. Not given to a taxidermist and fitted with a tiny, custom-tailored suit, and then stuffed in a coffin built for infants.
You plug in your LAPTOP and connect to the internet signal again.
Everything predictably falls out of your SYLLADEX, but you're not about to get bent out of shape about it. You have bigger fish to fry.
Looks like Dave noticed you're back online. He pesters you like clockwork.
And there's John. What on earth is he up to now?
You're right. Didn't Rose yank the door off its hinges and prop it on your bed?
Someone or something has put it back and left it slightly ajar.
HOO HOO HOO HOO HOO!
Oh God dammit, that's just what you need. More baked goods.
You totally abjure the hell out of that idea.
You're so busy abjuring, you don't even notice Rose has been trying to pester you this whole time.
You give John a swift drubbing in the noggin, but he is undeterred!
That is some fit he is throwing.
Perhaps you will take this spare moment to contemplate the Nannasprite's strange tale. It may also behoove you to record your thoughts on these developments in your GameFaqs walkthrough/journal. It can be hard finding time to update it. In fact, you're not even sure where you found the time to write what's already there!
Oh is that so, Jaspers? And just who do you think you're looking at with that smug grin???
The last thing you need is sass from a dead cat. It's pretty much all his fault you're in this mess in the first place, so he can just button it.
You refuse outright!
Well when you put it so politely, how can John decline??
You really need to work on your manners.
That's not a command. It's nothing.
It's just not going to happen buddy!
But really not enough to write home about.
She's not finished with this yet! Jeez, cut her some slack.
Maybe you could go bug someone somewhere else for a while? Or at the very least, somewhen else.
You captchalogue your KATANA (2+1+2+1+2+1 = 9%10 = 9) and prepare to venture out into the apartment to retrieve your BRO's copy of the game.
But first, maybe...
Dude, that bird is long gone. It probably won't last long in this heat anyway.
You don't even know what's up with this sick heat. The sun threatens to set but won't step off. It's staring you down, like the big red eye of a hot needle skipping on a groove its tracing 'round the earth. While lingering in midair its heat seems to suspend time itself, stretching it like warped vinyl. It's meant to rain this season but there ain't been a drop in sight. Even a little drizzle would help. Might help to fizzle this sizzle a little bizzle, set the record straight on this global turn-tizzle.
"So don't change the dizzle, turn it up a little
I got a living room full of fine dime brizzles
Waiting on the Pizzle, the Dizzle and the Shizzle
G's to the bizzack, now ladies here we gizzo
When the pimp's in the crib ma
Drop it like it's hot
Drop it like it's hot
Drop it like it's hot..."
-English Romantic poet, John Keats
Sorry little dude, coming through. Gotta put you down for a bit.
You figure you've left him hanging long enough.
You barge in and see a familiar face. A friendly face.
You stand in the living room. Your BRO spends most of his days in here. At night he crashes on the FUTON over there. You don't see him anywhere though.
There's the PUPPET CHEST he stores LIL' CAL in when he takes him out on gigs. But when he's home he usually leaves CAL on display somewhere. And with good reason cause CAL is totally sweet.
It's your brother's MR. T PUPPET, which of course is kept in the apartment with a sense of profound humorous irony. But as usual with your BRO's exploits, this is no ordinary irony, or anything close to a pedestrian TIER 1 IRONIC GESTURE which is a meager single step removed from sincerity. This is like ten levels of irony removed from the original joke. It might have been funny like eight years ago to joke about Mr. T and how he was sort of lame, but that was the very thing that made him awesome and badass, and that his awesomeness was also sort of the joke. But in this case, the joke is the joke, and that degree of irony itself is ALSO the joke, and so on.
Only highly adept satirical ninjas like you and your BRO can appreciate stuff like this. It's cool taking stuff that other people think is funny but you know really isn't, and making it funny again by adding subtle strata of irony which are utterly undetectable to the untrained eye.
Also, for good measure, Mr. T is wearing a LEATHER THONG and handcuffed to a pantsless CHUCK NORRIS PUPPET.
God you hope you can be as good as your BRO at this some day. You'd never tell him that though.
CAL's nowhere in sight. All you see is a bunch of your BRO's weird nude puppets strewn around haphazardly.
You guess these things are kinda cool.
It looks like your BRO was playing. It's not like him to leave in the middle of some totally intense gaming.
Not like him to misplace CAL either... man you hope the little guy's alright.
Oh there you are dude. Didn't see you there.
We be chill today, Cal? Yeah you better fuckin' believe we be chill.
Cal is the man.
You fail to resist the urge.
You start thrashing up stunts something uncannybrutal on your quest for "MAD SNACKS YO" and get this way rude hunger under control. Shit is basically flying off the hook. It's like shit wants nothing to do with that hook. The hook is dead to that shit.
But you get stuck in some poorly modeled 3D fixture or something. Like a railing or a piece of the wall? You'll have to reset.
Fuck this shit.
Aw man you almost forgot. Gotta give the C-man some props.
Your BRO has so much sweet gear it's hard to keep up with it all sometimes. Here's his computer setup. He's usually got a lot of stuff cooking on here at any given moment.
Since he's not around you might as well sneak a peep.
Your BRO's computer is password protected of course to protect all the incredible top secret shit he's got on the burners.
Of course you know what the password is, and he knows you know it, and you're both cool with that because the password is the most awesome thing it can be.
You enter the password. On the desktop is a hodgepodge of unnamed folders to store all the stuff he's working on. No one can decipher his organization system but him.
He also tends to use the application COMPLETE BULLSHIT to keep up with the ludicrous amount of websites and news feeds he monitors to stay hip to the scene.
This is COMPLETE BULLSHIT.
Your BRO keeps up with your projects in his aggregator, just like you keep up with his. He's tuned into your various blogs, and of course SWEET BRO AND HELLA JEFF.
You navigate to the LATEST COMIC in one of the many BULLSHIT FEEDBANDS.
Another one of your BRO's many ironic websites. The difference here is he rakes in thousands of dollars a month through this enterprise.
SMUPPETS are a multi-billion dollar a year enterprise, and it's awfully hard to resist taking a firm squeeze from the plump udder of that cash cow.
You guess you've messed around on his computer long enough. Better get a move on before it's too late for Rose, or worse yet, your BRO catches you.
But my God... the rumps. They are transfixing.
You know this is ironic and all, and your BRO reaches echelons of irony you could only dream of daring to fathom. But on rare occasions, when your guard is down, it all seems just a tad unsettling to you.
Hey there, Cal.
You are sort of starting to flip the fuck out.
Without losing your cool of course.
You get Egbert on the line again to give him the lowdown on your progress. You feel it's important to keep the wires hot.
But he's not answering. You wonder what that guy is up to.
Looks like Rose is finally logged in again.
Didn't John say her house was burning down? You wonder if she's on fire yet or what.
You are getting way better at this sort of thing.
Thank God your sanity has returned so you can entertain extremely rational, coherent thoughts like this one.
You examine the POGO RIDE from the bathroom window. You do not like what you see.
Those sons of bitches. NO ONE risks painful injury on your GREEN SLIME GHOST POGO RIDE.
No one but YOU.
Doesn't look like that GRIST is going anywhere.
You just never know with these gaming abstractions.
The piano in its valiant effort has unfortunately been slain.
But if it hadn't, it would have raked in so many BOONDOLLARS, you have no idea.
Ok, you obviously don't have enough grist yet for something that ambitious. But you can get started with something of a foundation for upward construction, at least.
No imps in here. Just a lot of SHAVING CREAM.
Dads love shaving. It's basically all they do. (When they're not baking, that is.)
You captchalogue two cans of SHAVING CREAM just in case. You never know when you'll need to bust out a hilarious SHAVING CREAM SANTA BEARD to ratchet up your PRANKSTER'S GAMBIT.
Your TELESCOPE goes flying out the window.
It's a little cramped in here for any sort of proper reckless pogoing. You'll just grab it and hang on to it until the right moment presents itself.
The TOWEL floats back down to the rack.
The circle of stupidity is complete.
It looks like the imps have taken a shining to the CRUXTRUDER.
Cruxite and black goo. Everywhere.
Well ok, it's not a Slimer pogo, but you mount it anyway and brandish your deadly armaments.
This is incredibly dangerous!
Let's see how they like the old doublebarrel latherblaster WHOOPS OH SHIT.
DON'T MOVE OR THE POGO GETS IT
The REFRIGERATOR skyrockets up the ECHELADDER to a new rung: FIVESTAR GENERAL ELECTRIC and earns 285 BOONDOLLARS.
Things are really looking up for this feisty appliance.
For some reason you feel a sense of positive reinforcement. Wherever that feeling is coming from, it sure is a welcome change from your erratic moods earlier.
Oblivious to the commotion behind you, suddenly you find yourself pondering the whereabouts of a CAN OPENER.
You think there is probably one in the kitchen, but the path is blocked by your REFRIGERATOR.
John is completely unresponsive.
What the hell is that nincompoop doing???
But let's not get totally carried away here.
Co-player John assesses environment after transition to Medium. Followed by Sprite, sans Kernel, prototyped once pre-hatch. Completely useless in this form
Severed from suburban grid, house remains mysteriously powered. Convenience presumably facilitated by game which perhaps deems navigating a powerless house to be a handicap less in keeping with spirit of game's principal statement of challenge.
Internet connection remains stable as well. Will likely remain stable until the Internet itself is compromised by some external threat. Something like, oh, let's say hackers.
Kill monsters, get grist, build on to house. That's the game. Didn't know what the point of this was at the time. Floundering trial and error on exhibit.
Unsuccessful attempt at tier 2 prototyping. Knowing what I know now, I might have avoided using a back-breaking vade mecum for practical jokesters rife with antiquated lexicon and racist aphorisms. Either that, or I might have tried harder to succeed.
Final screen capture before I lost my internet signal for a time. I don't know what happened thereafter, but when I returned, the car was nowhere to be found, and the driveway-plateau was in a state of disrepair. The mysteries -- will they ever cease?
Sprite prototyped once more with grandmother's remains. She treats John to some helpful exposition in a friendly and maternal (grandmaternal?) manner.
Co-player has displayed inexplicably capricious behavior since arrival. Stress-related? Contracted virus indigenous to realm? It should be noted he was kind of a weird guy anyway.
Designix deployed. Still no clue what this does. At mercy of co-player's foolish prioritization tendencies.
Grist payload from slain foe. Whether I deal the damage or co-player does, yield is same. Though I have a significant advantage in battle, taking measures into my own hands deprives John of hand-to-hand combat experience, which ostensibly will become more critical later.
Building; the point. Building upward; the point, sharpened and directed.
"Ah, steeds, steeds, what steeds! Has the whirlwind a home in your manes? Is there a sensitive ear, alert as a flame, in your every fiber? Hearing the familiar song from above, all in one accord you strain your bronze chests and, hooves barely touching the ground, turn into straight lines cleaving the air, and all inspired by God it rushes on!"
Yeah, I... I have no idea what the fuck he's doing here.
Another one of these things. Really, Egbert family? Really?
A view of the kidhapped father's room. I can't see in here for some reason. Perhaps this is because John himself has never entered the room? It is possible that I can see only, in a sense, what John can see, or has seen already. I have not found the time to discuss this with him yet. If he enters the room, the question may answer itself.
Yes, it seems so.
It is unfortunate.
What are we talking about again?
Thanks for the courtesy.
It's not really necessary, but thanks anyway.
Wait, where did all this sweet loot come from?
And why is there suddenly a crumpled hat on your head?
Feeling especially economical with your behavior suddenly, you scoop up all the grist in the room, and turn your attention to the PUNCH DESIGNIX all in one fell swoop.
The device features a counter-top station design with a KEYBOARD SETUP, not unlike an old fashioned computer. There is a blinking red light, and a DIAGRAM etched into a panel.
You flip over the top card containing your POGO RIDE. Any time you captchalogue something, a new code appears on the back of the card. You've always wondered what the code was for.
Damn these things are hard to read. But then, you've never really found any reason to decipher them.
Until now, perhaps?
Looks like cards from your STRIFE DECK have codes too.
You enter the code "DQMmJLeK" into the KEYBOARD. At least you think that's what the code is.
The red light switches off. A green light begins blinking.
In the interest of due diligence, you enter the other code and repeat the process with that card too.
Both cards are now punched with different hole patterns.
Oh, well that should just be a simple matter of...
Uh oh. It looks like it's trapped now. You don't see how you can access the item anymore, or store a new item there for that matter. These cards are pretty much useless now, and the items they contain are toast!
But maybe all is not lost. Recalling from your experience with the PRE-PUNCHED CARD, you may be able to use the cards to replicate the items in question.
Assuming you got the codes right, that is...
Not quite through with your cowboy empiricism just yet, you mash at the KEYBOARD to generate a random code.
You enter "dskjhsdk". The DESIGNIX stops you after eight characters, which appears to be the maximum length for a code. The green light goes on, signaling its readiness for a card.
You figure you might as well burn the SHAVING CREAM since the product is not exactly at a premium in your household. You also figure you might as well merge the two cans on to one card.
You're a little sad that your DAD isn't around for this. You have a feeling he would get a real kick out of the idea of duplicating more SHAVING CREAM.
You punch the card with a pattern that is in no way related to the code for the item it contains. This should make for an interesting experiment.
Mad science is a lot of fun.
Unfortunately, you just burned another card in the process. Your deck is really dwindling now. Maybe you should have thought this through a little better.
On the plus side, you just freed up your PDA, which is overflowing with the pent-up chatter of anxious pesterers.
You swoop up the bountiful supply of grist generated by your co-player's recent exploits. From now on it will probably go without saying that you'll nab any grist lying around without making a big fuss over it.
You check out the busted SAFE, which has made a noble sacrifice in battle. Some of your father's odds and ends have spilled out, including some old NEWSPAPER CLIPPINGS, and two rather hefty TOMES. It's a fair bet that these books comprised at least half the weight of the safe.
It's another copy of COLONEL SASSACRE'S DAUNTING TEXT OF MAGICAL FRIVOLITY AND PRACTICAL JAPERY. This one looks really old, perhaps an original printing. Could it be the same one involved with your grandmother's unfortunate accident on that fateful day? DAD would never speak a word about it, but maybe NANNA wouldn't be so tight-lipped?
You give it a cursory perusal. It appears to be similar to your reprinting, listing all the japes and chicanery you have come to know and love. You captchalogue it, thinking you may give it a closer look later.
You take a look at the other book. You're sure DAD thought this was a scintillating read, but it looks pretty boring to you. Maybe you'll crack into it some day when you're old enough to shave.
Everything in this safe was obviously very important to your father. You wonder why he kept it locked away from you?
Some things about him you will never understand.
It seems he has been collecting scraps from the news over the years. These articles go back decades.
You guess this is the combination to the safe.
This is completely useless.
You guess these are all zeros? Or are they capital O's? Zeros would probably make more sense for an empty card, you think.
The two card sylladex: inventory of dumbasses.
The Colonel soars to new heights on his ECHELADDER, reaching the rung: ONE MAN JULEP VACUUM, and pockets 9550 BOONDOLLARS.
Chump change for the genteel, aristocratic southern colonel.
The BATHTUB surges heroically and surpasses the rung: ARCHIMEDES' AQUACRADLE, proceeding directly to vaunted rung: TAFT-JAMMER. The tub makes off with a cool 490 BOONDOLLARS.
The tub's BASIN CAPACITY remains unaffected.
The SAFE was slain in battle. A great flaming nautical pyre carries it off to VAULTHALLA.
You're not sure. They look pretty precarious to you.
But you've been assured the stairs are perfectly navigable.
Lousy goddamn stupid stairs!
You wander over to the place where your BRO keeps his sweet turntable gear. Man that setup is sweet. You feel pangs of jealousy whenever you walk by it. Really cool jealousy, though. Like the kind where instead of getting all worked up about it, you don't actually give a shit.
One of your brother's rad and extremely expensive NINJA SWORDS is missing though.
You know this drill all too well. Trouble's a brewin'.
You approach the exit.
There's something on the door you haven't seen before. Looks like one of your BRO'S ironic comics he left for you to check out.
Ok, some of this stuff you KNOW he's just leaving around to get under your skin. This is obviously another ploy in his relentless siege of one-upsmanship to get your goat (the same goat you've been meaning to bleat like ironically, but that will still have to wait for a more appropriate time).
You think he knows that deep down you feel like you're still not ironic enough to get stuff like this, and this is probably some weird gauntlet he's throwing down to see if you will "GET IT".
But honestly you think this material is just a little TOO ironic. You just don't need to see this shit right now.
No sign of BRO in here either.
Well, aside from the absurd quantity of awesome dangerous stuff he leaves lying around.
With an escalating sense of threat, you think it's time you SHIFT (9) your KATANA (9) to your specibus.
You figure it's better to free up the card anyway, since you might need to grab some of this stuff.
You guess BRO stuck some FAKE BLOOD CAPSULES in that puppet? Pretty gross.
You spot one of your BRO'S many WEBCAMS nearby, recording the incident.
It seems you may have just been an unwitting accessory to some sort of grisly puppet snuff film. You're not totally sure how you feel about that.
This might be the only thing in the whole apartment that's a bigger piece of shit than your own sword.
You put it back behind the microwave where it belongs.
It's just sort of bouncing around in there.
You're making a bit of a mess now.
See, like, his hobbies are cool and all, and you guess he's got to put his shit SOMEWHERE. But what if you just wanted to heat up a burrito or something?
This kitchen is pretty much useless.
You captchalogue all the FIREWORKS (2+1+2+1+2+1+2+2+2 = 15%10 = 5) the sink has to offer.
You just KNOW these are going to come in handy. Why would they be in the sink if they weren't?
Looks like one of them is still stuck in the GARBAGE DISPOSAL.
You grab the SHURIKENS (5) and...
Hey! Careful where you're putting stuff, especially if you're looking to turn your sylladex into a powder-keg full of sharp things.
You put the BOX OF FIREWORKS (3) back into card 5 and prepare to start ov...
Or card 3, apparently. That settles that, you guess.
You take the NUNCHAKU (3), once again grabbing without thinking ahead.
First you captchalogue the BOX (5) again, while adeptly avoiding the SHURIKEN trap, which you yourself set only moments ago.
You again round up all the FIREWORKS. Time to regroup here.
You grab each SHURIKEN (3) one at a time, knocking out those NUNCHAKU.
But no worries. You've got a plan.
You take the NUNCHUCKS (6). Everything seems to be in order now.
It would have been badass to go with the authentic Japanese names for each weapon, but sometimes you've just got to compromise with this modus.
You flip over your FETCH MODUS and check out the back.
You're not really sure where it is you're keeping this thing. Oh well, who cares.
Oh hell no. Not after all that trouble you went through to get that stuff situated.
This is potentially a very dangerous button.
First you program your modus with a SCRABBLE POINTS HASH FUNCTION, adding it to the list.
A=1; B=3; C=3; D=2; E=1; F=4; G=2; H=4; I=1; J=8; K=5; L=1; M=3; N=1; O=1; P=3; Q=10; R=1; S=1; T=1; U=1; V=4; W=4; X=8; Y=4; Z=10;
This might be a cool function to use, but it looks like you'll have to empty your sylladex to select it. You're just not gonna do that yet. No way.
And just what is this guy so happy about? What's he looking at up there?
You think if you see one more soft, bulbous bottom being like
kind of jutting out and impudent or whatever
you're gonna fly off the handle.
You take the SKATEBOARD (6).
Actually, no you don't. A collision has been detected.
You take the... uh...
Man, your inventory's nomenclature is getting lamer by the minute.
You take the POWER CORD (5)... wait, no. Not going to work.
You take the BATTERY PACK (8). Dammit.
You take the BATTERY PACK (9), using the 'Y' as a consonant. Your sylladex reluctantly accepts.
It's a tactic notoriously employed by hashmap noobs, but you just don't care about that now. Besides, it's not like your BRO is around to see.
Oh, it was just Lil' Cal again. You can never stay mad at him.
Anyway, you've got to get this way rude hunger under control. You figure you oughta scope the fridge for some grub. This hunger is so ill-mannered it would make a room full of snooty dowagers commit mass suicide.
Oh god more shitty swords.
Of course you knew these were in here. You're not even sure why you looked.
If you want to keep any food or beverages in this apartment, you've pretty much got no choice but to hide stuff away in your closet.
The hell with it. You try to take the entire JUMBLE OF UNBELIEVABLY SHITTY SWORDS and brace yourself for...
Looks like that works, actually. (2)
You captchalogue the JUMBLE OF UNBELIEVABLY SHITTY SWORDS.
You dispense several CHERRY BOMBS.
Who's that looking at you in the reflection?
Where'd the little dude scamper off to this time?
You go for the CHERRY BOMBS (9) unsuccessfully.
After mulling it over a bit, you take the RED SPHERICAL SALUTES (1).
BLENDER (2) is a pretty simple word, and you can already tell that's not going to work.
Instead you take the...
WHIRLING BLADE PITCHER (4).
That's really a much better name for it anyway, you think.
You're still not sure what he's so happy about, or what he's looking at up there.
While you're at it, you dump the contents of the BLENDER, oops I mean WHIRLING BLADE PITCHER, into the disposal. But you suffer an unfortunate GARBAGE DISPOSAL HEAD JAM.
You notice something in the reflection. Something above you.
It's the hatch to the crawlspace above your apartment. BRO'S always tucking away in there when he's busting out his rad stealth stunts. He's so slick that dangling cord never even jostles.
You just know he's being ironic with these weird mind games. There's no way anyone could be serious about aping those shitty movies.
It's a pretty sweet fort you just made and you're pretty sure your brother would agree. Under different circumstances, you might be high-fiving over it right now.
But rather than get inside and take her for a spin, you really just need to use it to get up to that hatch.
It is time to face your destiny. No going back now.
Yeah, there was pretty much no way there wasn't going to be a bunch of puppets in there.
You are now the other guy.
This is so much fun.
A huge waste of time, yes. BUT SO MUCH FUN.
You put the punched card containing the POGO RIDE in the slot, and carve a TOTEM from one of the CRUXITE DOWELS.
You use the card containing the code for the HAMMER, as well as the one with the random code you punched over the SHAVING CREAM card for the hell of it. You carve the respective TOTEMS for the cards.
You make a TOTEM for a CAPTCHALOGUE CARD.
Pretty bare bones looking totem, if you ask you.
You stow the totems in your ATHENEUM.
The ALCHEMITER requires one unit of any type of grist to produce one card.
You decide to use SHALE, since it seems less generally useful than BUILD GRIST as of now.
You make a whole bunch of them.
You create a HAMMER at the expense of 2 units of BUILD GRIST.
You make a POGO RIDE too. Minus 5 BUILD, 1 SHALE.
You use the TOTEM carved with the random code. You create a...
A ROCKET PACK?
With some random crap stuck inside it. Looks like a CINDERBLOCK, a VIOLIN, and a FLOWER POT. The items have rendered the device completely inoperable.
You figure you might as well put this piece of junk to use.
Using a little strategy, first you grab HARRY ANDERSON'S "WISE GUY", BY MIKE CAVENEY, then the cards, then your ejected PDA, then the book again to flush the cards into your deck.
You flip your FETCH MODI but find no such option.
This is idiotic.
You never really understood what Caveney's relation to Anderson was, or why he wrote this book about him. His ambivalent attitude toward your favorite magician in these anecdotes always struck you as a little weird, and to be honest, you tend not to read much of the text in the book. You mostly like to look at the diagrams for all the cool tricks.
Oh yeah, that's right. The old HOLE IN THE ACE trick, interestingly enough, pertaining to punching holes in cards and making them "disappear" and stuff. Your hands were never really strong enough to make this one work all that well either.
But actually... this gives you an idea.
You overlap two of the punched cards. They mask each other's hole patterns.
You carve another TOTEM using the new combined hole pattern.
Oh man, looks like Rose made like a million hammers for some reason.
Get all this shit out of the way, you're about to make something sweet!
You got the POGO HAMMER.
You get a vicious rhythmic bouncing combo going and easily slay the imp in one blow.
You and the POGO RIDE are catapulted sky-high in the process.
Looks like a sort of index documenting all the known results for punch card alchemy combinations.
This could be a convenient resource as you start to stumble on more useful card combinations. But ever since John started punching cards, you've been contemplating other ways this item manufacturing system could be put to use. In particular, if you obtain the code for any item at your disposal, you think you could theoretically send the code to John and he could make it himself.
That is, if you can think of anything that would be worth sending to him.
You eject the disk and captchalogue the SERVER CD.
Oh God damn it.
You stick the POGO HAMMER back in your STRIFE SPECIBUS and get ready to kill some more of these pesky little...
Huh? What's that?
You be the imp and quickly abscond the fuck outta there!!!
This is what weaker adversaries do whenever things get too hot to handle, which is frequently.
You stop being the imp because that was stupid, and scurry over to your MAGIC CHEST that you suddenly remembered was on the roof. There are some things in here that would be good to stock up on for a major battle.
But it looks like someone has plundered your chest!!! This is so outrageous.
You are being ambushed!
There isn't much room to maneuver on this sloping roof. Maybe you should consider making your way to higher ground.
You go up here.
You peek over the edge.
It already seems like a long way down to your yard. Not even to speak of whatever's below.
Hey, weren't your TRICK HANDCUFFS dangling from that branch earlier? Dammit, why do imps got to be making off with all your sweet gear??
You stop being the other guy. You're not even sure what that meant anyway.
You are now the Wayward Vagabond.
Got em already.
It appears to be a gauge for a large POWER CELL, perhaps fueled by some type of nuclear reaction. If this is the case, it is relatively low on fuel. But who knows how long it has been running here?
You do not care about this sort of nonsense and you will disregard it at once. You are very hungry.
Captchalogue? You have no idea what that means. It is total nonsense and you do not know what to make of it. You will not give the foolish notion a second thought.
You just pick it up.
You are now holding the CAN OF GRAVY.
Your teeth are useless for the task! They are blunt like that of livestock, presumably suitable for mashing up plant matter, and not for puncturing metal.
Your WEAK PATHETIC DIGITS are not strong enough to penetrate the can!!!
Your fingers are certainly pointy enough, and your black carapace is suitably rigid, but you just don't have enough muscle for the task.
Ok, you take that too.
The can clearly reads "MUSTARD", a fact of which you were perfectly well aware.
It is sort of cumbersome holding all these cans at once. You doubt you can hold many more than this. Maybe one or two.
You'll need to find something to put stuff in if you want to carry a lot of things around.
You drop all the cans and take a look at your wrist.
It is a sort of specialized BAR CODE PATTERN.
This brings back unpleasant memories and you would prefer not to dwell on it.
It appears half the pages of this book have been eaten. The daunting volume is considerably lighter than it once was.
You are somewhat skeptical about the nutritional value contained by these pages. However, of the practical wisdom they contain there can be little doubt. You have learned so much.
You empty the peculiar cabinet and take a quick inventory of your canned goods.
You have BEANS, MUSTARD, GRAVY, BREAD, SHRIMP, ASPARAGUS, CHEESE, RICE, CORN, PEAS, FLOUR, CHESTNUTS, MAYO, HAM, POTATOES, and SQUASH.
Such bountiful plenty. And yet the delights taunt you from within their small metal prisons.
You have already looked all over the place for a CAN OPENER, even making a few electronic inquiries about one, to no avail.
Nothing else inside the purple thing either.
You wield your TRUSTY KNIFE.
It is actually a...
You're not sure what they're called. It's an old rusted one of those red mailbox arm-swing flappy doodads, either for letting you know there is mail in the box, or maybe for alerting the mailman to outgoing mail to be collected. You don't know, really. You've wrapped a little piece of cloth around it for the grip.
It is useless for opening cans.
This means nothing to you. You are not an imp, you have no idea what an imp is, and you will not entertain such frivolous and childish ideas ever again. You feel stupid and hate yourself a little for even considering it.
As the glorious founder and mayor of CAN TOWN, you erect a dignified, majestic CITY HALL out of cans, fittingly capped off with a tome of good manners for the roof. You have given yourself a very official and important looking MAYORAL SASH made out of old cables to complete your look of authority. A number of rather civic-minded CITIZEN CANS gather in front of the building to offer adulation to their fair and magnanimous leader. All is well.
You immerse yourself in this beautiful dream as you whittle away the minutes, or perhaps hours.
You love the idea of being a mayor. You love everything about mayors, and the concept of an orderly, civil democracy. It all seems so mannerly and reasonable to you. Everyone is friendly and happy, and the city runs like clockwork. The foundation of the government is based on mutual respect between the leader and its people. It is also built on having a really great mayor that everyone loves who is totally amazing and heroic and brave.
Mayors are so much better than kings. You hate kings and you think kings are really stupid. They are petty, bossy tyrants and are really full of themselves and are basically awful in every way.
God do you hate kings.
Over here is the other side of the room. There is another one of those purple storage boxes, and some useless objects scattered on the floor.
You pick up the nugget of URANIUM and...
Oh that was so stupid. Why would you do that?
It's chalk numbnuts.
Inside the box, there are 12 pieces of CHALK in every color of the...
10 pieces of chalk. In most colors of the rainbow.
You are excited by this.
There must be some sort of release mechanism for this thing.
The container is full of MOTOR OIL. This does not seem useful to you right now.
There is nothing you can do for this new little friend. Attempting to crush the AMBER encasing the FIREFLY would likely cause it harm.
It nevertheless bravely flashes on. You find its light alluring. Inspiring.
To you it seems as if it could quite easily serve as the light of...
You sketch a handsome network of sprawling thoroughfares for your citizens to traverse. The adoring population applauds its mayor's keen instincts for city planning.
You even add some lush vegetation to your city with a piece of blue chalk, because you can't seem to find a more suitable color for some reason.
You develop westward, settling those fertile plains and claiming them for your city.
You section off a number of RESIDENTIAL AND COMMERCIAL ZONES for civic growth, arranged in the only logical pattern that occurs to you.
You color the RESIDENTIAL ZONES with your piece of white chalk, but for some reason none of the colors in the box strike you as suitable for the COMMERCIAL ZONES. Perhaps there is an alternative.
You cannot urinate because you have not had anything to drink in quite some time. You are very thirsty.
Also that is a really terrible idea and you would not consider befouling your wonderful city in that way for even a moment.
You fill each empty square with a bit of MOTOR OIL to complete the zoning. It looks rather striking to you. You can hardly imagine that an up and coming young can trying to make it in the world would not be delighted to live in your fair district.
You are very careful not to get any of the unpleasant fluid on your person.
It seems you have run out of territory for your western expansion. But there is still a lot of empty wall space. Perhaps your citizens would be happier with a colorful backdrop that would make them feel more at home.
Using most of your imagination and an entire piece of sky-blue chalk, you render a bright and cheerful sky full of clouds.
You have decided that very closely orbiting your city is a LUMINOUS PLANET, about which orbits a single MOON.
You switch to another shade of blue and continue rendering on the western wall.
Orbiting much further from your city are FOUR PLANETS. None of these have satellites, you have decided. Yes, that makes sense, you think.
And on the southern wall, beyond an impenetrable veil of darkness, occupying the furthest orbit yet, there is an OMINOUS PLANET. A MOON circles this one too.
Oh yeah, it's that guy. You had almost forgotten about him and his confusing shenanigans.
It seems like he has things well in hand at the moment. He does not appear to need your help, and you have already concluded that he cannot help you, at least for the time being.
You have no idea how to turn these on!
There is no mouse for this weird quadra-monitored computer. It can only be operated through text commands from its keyboard.
Perhaps there is a special key or command which will allow you to switch to another monitor?
You free the heavenly brown elixir from the jewels of pink carapace and imbibe like the wind.
It is so sweet and sugary. You wonder how so much sugar can fit in one can. Whatever mighty wizard concocted this potion is truly deserving of your fear and respect.
The TABS are naturalized as loyal new citizens of CAN TOWN. All cans are welcome and equal in your city, regardless of can content, and whether empty or full.
It's not like emptying a can kills it or anything. They are just cans after all.
Feeling refreshed and heavily caffeinated, you go back to work on the big computer.
You hit ESCAPE, which seems to minimize the action window thingy and reveals a history of all the commands you've entered.
You use the arrow key to scroll up a bit. You can't believe how much you've already typed into this stupid contraption. What a waste of time.
You scroll all the way up to your first command.
It looks like there are more commands above it. Maybe someone was entering commands on this thing before you?
There aren't many more. At the top of this list appears to be the very first command.
You activate SCREEN 2.
The signal is garbled, and you have no idea what you're looking at. Some sort of filthy beggar pleading for help?
No one is around, And nothing is happening. You seem to be locked out of any sort of interaction with whatever's happening on this monitor.
It's another one of these rapscallions. This monitor is locked too. You can't tell him what to do. Not that you really want to, since it just looks like more confusing nonsense to you.
You consider switching to SCREEN 4, but decide against it. You have a feeling that whatever's there would just confuse you even more, and you don't even really care all that much anyway.
All four screens activate. Together they display a countdown, starting at four hours and thirteen minutes.
You can't! Nothing is working anymore. The timer seems to have disabled the keyboard.
Enough of this nonsense. You are an important mayor and this absurd contraption has wasted enough of your time. You've got a city to govern with a carapaced fist! (Which is to say firm, yet polished, and supple as the situation demands.)
Anyway this will help you kill some time while you wait for that clock to count down.
You temporarily dismantle CITY HALL to free up all the canpower available to create a vigilant TOWN MILITIA. You divide them into two groups, marking them with distinct teams and ranks using the piece of white CHALK and the MOTOR OIL. You then organize them in phalanx across the countryside, preparing for a stiff training regimen. When you are through with them, your forces will be a well oiled machine. Chalk another one up to bold leadership!
You waste more than four hours on this tomfoolery.
Your caffeinated jittering must have agitated all the little bubbles curiously hidden in the liquid, creating too much pressure in the can. You speculate this is why it exploded as you nervously eye the timer.
You are starting to wonder what will happen when it reaches zero. Maybe it would be best not to be near it when this happens.
Though perhaps not as few as implied by circumstance...
You say a bittersweet goodbye to your beloved city. It is time to move on to greener pastures. By which of course you mean an arid, sandy wasteland upon which nothing green has grown in years.
The door shuts behind you. A panel on the door becomes illuminated.
As you ponder over the marks on the panel, you hear another mechanical sound overhead.
The LCD PANEL appears to have a touchscreen interface.
It appears the funny-looking spirograph room is locked!
The floor rotates a full 360 degrees beneath you, while the surrounding wall seems to stay put.
The triangley fractal room does not appear to be locked.
The floor turns 120 degrees and the door opens.
You go through the door to find another room. It's the same size as the other one you just wasted all that time in, while a clock was ticking down to something which may or may not be your doom. Maybe there is something in here that will help you escape.
Against the wall there is another perplexing contraption.
Against the opposite wall is some sort of CONTROL PANEL which catches your eye.
It has two large screens, but only one appears to be active. There are fields for numbers which appear to be modifiable with the dials to the right. Some numbers are already supplied by default, perhaps entered by the previous user. There are a few buttons below, the largest one bearing the symbol marking this room.
Also it looks like there is a METER STICK propped up there for some reason.
You immediately craft a MEASURING SPEAR through possibly the most advanced form of alchemy employed thusfar. This is obviously the most important thing to do first.
Or it WOULD obviously be the most important thing to do if you had remembered to bring your TRUSTY KNIFE.
You feel so insecure without your TRUSTY KNIFE, it makes you want to slit your wrists. Or at the very least, flog your carapace with some sort of measuring apparatus.
You examine the perplexing contraption across the room. You of course have no idea what it could possibly do.
You adopt the only obvious course of action which is to poke and prod it with your HANDY RULER. You are quite sure this is what science is all about.
You go back to the CONTROL PANEL which probably obviously controls that gizmo and you push the big blue button which is obviously probably the most obvious thing to push.
You appearify a PUMPKIN.
It seems this mysterious gourd was transported (appearified!!!) from a specific time and location somewhere on this planet you are on. You wonder if the machine (APPEARIFIER!!!) will take any object that exists at whatever time and location you supply.
There is a symbol carved on the PUMPKIN. You don't know what it means, and you doubt it will ever prove to be relevant in any way.
You consider dining on the ripe flesh of the plump vegetable, but your curiosity about the APPEARIFIER gets the better of you.
You try to sneak a nibble from the pumpkin nonetheless.
You first examine the attractive GREEN BUTTONS.
The icon for the one on the left is that house shape you've seen plenty of times before.
The right one on closer inspection appears to be the map for this underground facility, with an X marking its center.
You push the button. All of the numbers change.
Perhaps these are the coordinates for the location of the center of this facility, along with the local date and time? If this is the case, it would make a useful reference point for your current bearings.
One way to find out would be to attempt to appearify something from this facility.
It should be easy to zero in on a location relative to the center because you have an uncanny knack for tracking precise distances you have already traversed, in whatever units you choose.
Your HANDY RULER gives you a good clue as to the BASIC UNIT OF HUMAN MEASUREMENT. You will go with that.
You nudge the coordinates very slightly and bump up the elevation by 0.5 HUMAN MEASUREMENT UNITS. You make sure to keep the time approximately what it was to begin with.
You appearify your TRUSTY KNIFE.
You nudge the numbers a bit more and appearify a bunch of cans. This is so much more efficient than walking back to the other room to get them.
You are to believe that time is at a premium, after all.
Does this machine look like a DEAPPEARIFIER to you?? Honestly, the idea that an APPEARIFIER could both APPEARIFY and DEAPPEARIFY things is so laughably ridiculous, you would wish someone would DEAPPEARIFY your brain and REAPPEARIFY it with a brain that is more smart and less dumb.
What the hell are you talking about? That idea makes no sense at all and is basically meaningless. Try using that mushy stuff in your gourd next time.
Instead you just carve off the top, exposing a decadent cache of gorgeous, seed-laden ambrosia.
Needless to say you consume all of it rather quickly. But it turns out to be too gross for us to watch.
You cannot move it! It has a spirograph-shaped indentation, and possibly will require a special kind of key to turn it.
You release your blinky new friend. You will give her a name when something suitably whimsical occurs to you.
You and SERENITY consider new ways to waste more time with the APPEARIFIER. You are assuming she is a girl firefly even though you are not really sure that fireflies can even be girls.
You target the extremely tasty ROTTEN PUMPKIN that was sitting in the other room hours ago.
It seems the APPEARIFIER cannot appearify something if it will create a TIME PARADOX.
A GELATINOUS GHOST PUMPKIN appearifies and quickly dissolves into a pile of UNAPPETIZING SLUDGE.
.-.. . - ... --. --- !!!
Serenity blinks a message of urgency. You nearly forgot that while trapped in amber she was witness to all your tomfoolery and dillydallying in the other room, and knows the timer is about to expire. It is time to get this show on the road and escape.
You reset the coordinates with the RIGHT GREEN BUTTON again, and this time only adjust the elevation by approximately 10 HUMAN MEASUREMENT UNITS.
00:30 -> 00:29 -> 00:28 -> 00:27 -> 00:26 .... ..- .-. .-. -.-- ..- .--. !!! (HURRY UP!!!) 00:25 -> 00:24 -> 00:23 -> 00:22 -> 00:21 -> 00:20 -> 00:19 -> 00:18 -> 00:17 -> 00:16 -> 00:15 -> 00:14 .. ... - .... .. ... .-. . .- .-.. .-.. -.-- -. . -.-. . ... ... .- .-. -.-- ??? (IS THIS REALLY NECESSARY???) 00:13 -> 00:12 -> 00:11 -> 00:10 CHOMP CHOMP BURP 00:09 - .... .. ... .. ... .. -. -.-. .-. . -.. .. -... .-.. -.-- ... .. .-.. .-.. -.-- !!! (THIS IS INCREDIBLY SILLY!!!) 00:08 -> 00:07 -> 00:06 -> 00:05 -> 00:04 -> 00:03 -> 00:02 PSYCHE??
You attempt the rare and highly dangerous 5X CLIFFHANGER COMBO, and fail.
We are doing it, man.
We are making this happen.
X 44.517677 Y -74.821422 Z 1283 -> 1310 A CONTINENT WESTWARD AND YEARS IN THE PAST BUT NOT MANY X ... -> 47.362101 Y ... -> -122.054144 Z 4130 AN OCEAN WESTWARD AND YEARS IN THE PAST BUT NOT MANY BUT
NOT MANYX -0.955766 Y -174.759521 Z 4130 -> 3077 EMPTY
END OF ACT 2
You are no doubt reading this as a handsome and strapping young man! Why, the mangrit needed to lift the book is itself a sign of your maturity, not even to speak of the wisdom needed to grasp the nuance of Sassacre's time-tested mischief. I am so proud of you, grandson!
How I wish I could have delivered this heirloom to you in the flesh. But I am afraid it wasn't in the cards! For you see, John, like you, this book must yet take a journey! Its journey will end on the Final Day of my life, and even then will continue some. Though I suppose that will be up to your Father. Perhaps he will discuss it with you one day, when he and you are ready.
But it is your journey I am writing about to wish you luck! There will come a day when you will be thrust into another world. And once you arrive, that is only the beginning! You will soon delve even deeper into a realm of Warring Royalty in a Timeless Expanse. A realm of Agents and Exiles and Consorts and Kernelsprites. Of toiling Underlings and slumbering Denizens. A realm where four will gather, the Heir of Breath and Seer of Light, the Knight of Time and Witch of Space, and together they will Ascend.
John, if only you knew how important you were! I regret my passing came so early in your life. And yet I feel in my heart we have already met. But what I know for sure is that we will meet again!
Until then, John, I do hope your Father keeps you well fed!
A silly girl naps by her flowers. It is quite likely that she tired herself out with a variety of silly antics, as silly girls are often known to do. She may have a silly name too. Or maybe not. It is hard to say for sure without asking her.
But since she's slumbering peacefully, it would be a shame to wake her up. You might as well just give her a name right now.
I guess her name is Farmstink.
You try to roust Farmstink from her slumber, but she is really down for the count!
It looks like she is holding some sort of NOTE.
THEY'RE RIGHT THERE.
IN PLAIN SIGHT.
LOOK, THEY ARE FLASHING RED.
You see no pumpkin, and frankly it is hard to imagine there ever was a pumpkin, in plain sight or otherwise.
Anyway, that would be a really terrible thing to do to poor, sweet Farmstink.
Your name is JADE. You have just woken from a restful nap, and as usual, you have no recollection of having fallen asleep. You have quite a number of INTERESTS. So many in fact, you have trouble keeping track of them all, even with an assortment of COLORFUL REMINDERS on your fingers to help you sort out everything on your mind. Nevertheless, when you spend time in your GARDEN ATRIUM, the only thing on your mind is your deep passion for HORTICULTURE.
What will you do?
Wow, you really suck at this thing!
Maybe you should try playing an instrument you actually know how to play instead, like the one in your bedroom. Honestly you have no idea where this flute even came from. Things seem to appear and disappear around here all the time. Especially, to your unending chagrin, any sort of large orange gourd that might be lying around.
You consider throwing the flute down in disgust.
On second thought, it was a perfectly nice flute and there is no reason to take your frustration out on it. You just need some practice.
But before you captchalogue the FLUTE you will need to set your FETCH MODUS first!
[rollover above with mouse]
You have a wide variety of FETCH MODI to choose from. You were really excited when your GRANDPA bought you this MODUS SET for Christmas. He is a total badass, even if a little strict.
You typically opt for the MEMORY MODUS when it comes to matters of day-to-day practicality.
You set your modus to MEMORY, and captchalogue the FLUTE. You allot 9 cards to the modus from your deck, since that will be more than enough for your needs at the moment. The modus grabs 9 more cards for matching purposes.
The FLUTE is split up on two blank cards, and mixed randomly into the grid. To retrieve the item you must first pick one card, and then pick its matching card.
For the typical sylladexer this modus presents a frustrating guessing game and a lot of wasted time on mismatching. But you like it because you seem to have a knack for always guessing right on the first try!
It is an awfully silly idea and is basically a waste of everyone's time. You will predictably disregard this thought and focus on more sensible objectives at once.
oh my god this is so much fun
You captchalogue the BAG OF FERTILIZER.
You tend to have a lot of things on your mind at once, and you can be a little forgetful. So you keep a variety of COLORED STRINGS on your fingers as reminders. Each one means there is something different to remember at a certain time.
In fact, looking at your index finger reminds you that there is something important to remember now! It is your friend John's birthday. The green string reminds you that John's birthday package will arrive today. The blue string ALSO reminds you that John's birthday package will arrive today, though in a way that means something slightly different.
You are further reminded that you have some things to do outside your house soon. But you should stop by your room first for some supplies, and most importantly, to see if John is online and wish him a happy birthday!
You snap up that PUMPKIN which seems suitably ripe for the taking. Hopefully the safety of your sylladex will prevent it from being spirited away like so many of its ephemeral predecessors.
You make your way to the middle of the GARDEN ATRIUM, where a stairwell joins the four ATRIUM WINGS.
Upstairs is your grandfather's LABORATORY as well as your BEDROOM.
Your MEMORY modus is hardly any fun without much stuff in it, so you decide to stock up on fresh produce to fill some more cards.
You pick a juicy red CRAB APPLE.
You go pick a nice looking KEY LIME.
Then a delicious MANDARIN ORANGE. Those are your favorite.
And finally a ripe yellow EUREKA LEMON.
Modus fun aside, you feel it is impossible to have too many fresh fruits and vegetables on hand.
You almost never use the stairs.
You TRANSPORTALIZE upstairs. Just above is your room.
You enter your bedroom. On this side of the room you are immediately confronted with numerous artifacts highlighting your various INTERESTS.
You are an avid follower of CARTOON SHOWS OF CONSIDERABLE NOSTALGIC APPEAL. You have a profound zeal for marvelous and fantastical FAUNA OF AN ANTHROPOMORPHOLOGICAL PERSUASION. You have an uncanny knack for NUCLEAR PHYSICS, and not infrequently can be found dabbling in RATHER ADVANCED GADGETRY. You enjoy sporadic fits of NARCOLEPSY; your love of GARDENING transcends the glass confines of your ATRIUM; and you are at times prone to patterns of PRECOGNITIVE PROGNOSTICATION.
You consider very briefly the question: What will you do?
But you quickly realize this is only one half of your room, and is therefore host to only half of your INTERESTS to choose from.
Over here there are yet more articles of your aforementioned INTERESTS, and then some.
Additional telltale signs of your enthusiasm for NOSTALGIC TELEVISION mingle with your assortment of GAME HUNTING FIREARMS. You are a SKILLED MARKSWOMAN, though your cross-hairs would never settle on an innocent creature, ANTHROPOMORPHICALLY PERSUADED OR OTHERWISE.
Your worktable is littered with equipment to facilitate your tinkering. For you, experimentation is not a particularly exact science, and you lean heavily on SHARP INTUITION for consistently and eerily optimal results. Nevertheless, you have still not been able to get that broad, flat gizmo there to work, which is a design you have borrowed from one of your GRANDPA'S more mysterious inventions.
You are a great admirer of his, and you are not alone. Your grandfather is a WORLD RENOWNED EXPLORER-NATURALIST-TREASURE HUNTER-ARCHEOLOGIST-SCIENTIST-ADVENTURER-BIG GAME HUNTER-BILLIONAIRE EXTRAORDINAIRE. He has taught you everything you know.
But in spite of all his lessons, it is still difficult to escape his stern lectures when you are on the way out of the house to run your errands. He spends most of his time in the GRAND FOYER, stewing in his own intensity and charisma.
And today will likely be no exception. Among the errands you have planned is to venture out to find your pet and best friend named BECQUEREL. This animal must be fed and he will not be happy if he is not. And if he is not happy then you will not be happy.
But first you really should dig out your COMPUTER and say hi to John!
What will you do?
You equip your trusty HUNTING RIFLE. There would be hell to pay if grandad caught you leaving the house without it.
There isn't much to wonder, really. You left the WARDROBIFIER on its randomization setting.
You may contemplate which shirt design you favor the most and commit to that setting in the near future.
Just before you can grab one, the powerful ELECTROMAGNETS concealed in their underbellies become activated, and two of them get all tangled up with each other playfully.
You captchalogue the TANGLE BUDDIES.
Oh, but you could NEVER do that.
What marvelous creatures they are. What a daring dream, to combine the finest qualities of humanity with the elegance and nobility of the animal kingdom. How you wish you could know their world. To hear one night those muted pawpads traipse up your stairs. A low but friendly growl unsettles your slumber, and as the sopor seeps from your eyes they detect a sharp pair of ears cutting moonlight. A mysterious wolven tongue invites. Wouldn't these ears suit you? Would not this proud long snout assist you in the hunt?
No need to answer. Words slough from the busy mind like a useless dead membrane as a more visceral sapience takes over. Something simpler is in charge now, a force untouched by the concerns and burdens of the upright, that farcical yoke the bipedal tow. It now drives you through the midnight brush, your paws whisking through creepers, unearthing with each bold stomp bright odors demanding investigation. But not for long, as you and your new friend must claim the night with piercing howls moonward.
You eat a weird bug and don't even care.
Speaking of which, you pick up and admire one of your MANTHRO CHAPS. They are wonderful friends and are always cheerful and pleasant fellows.
Why dear Mr. Coxcomb, how ever will you be received at the BARNYARD GALA without the trappings of a proper gentleman?
Each MANTHRO CHAP comes with a number of accessories, including articles of FORMAL ATTIRE, a VACCINATION KIT, and a DISHWASHER-SAFE SLOP TROUGH.
You gather all your dolls into a rather cozy looking pile.
You deactivate the WARDROBIFIER'S randomization mode and set it to cycle through these three shirt designs.
The decision was tough, but you think you came to the best possible conclusion.
It is another beautiful day in your neighborhood. It is peaceful and quiet as usual. A rather imposing VOLCANO looms over your house, which has been inactive for centuries.
Though dormant on the surface, the volcanic activity deep underground provides your house with a source of GEOTHERMAL POWER. You are not sure why your grandfather decided to draw from this source of energy when he had the UNLIMITED POWER OF THE ATOM at his disposal. But it has been this way for as long as you can remember.
You have chalked it up to your family's longstanding propensity for eclectic fursuits wait you mean pursuits.
What is this nonsense about fursuits!!! You do not own a fursuit. You think ANTHROPOMORPHIC FAUNA are really cute and enchanting and all, but it has never occurred to you to dress as one. Sure, it is fun to imagine what it would be like to run wild with a pack of wolves, or purr and frolic with a litter of kittens, but dressing up as an animal just seems ridiculous. It would still just be a silly girl draped in a raggedy synthetic tufty piece of crap, and seriously who are you trying to kid with that sort of baloney!
Anyway it is not a MAGIC CHEST, it it your GADGET CHEST, which you have adapted for storing a number of USEFUL GIZMOS. It was once your ORACLE'S TRUNK, a gift from your grandfather of course, and still contains many silly FORTUNE TELLING KNICKKNACKS, all of which are completely bogus.
Among the FORTUNE TELLING KNICKKNACKS are these items: a CRYSTAL BALL plus compulsory VELVET PILLOW, a TAROT DECK, a MAGIC 8 BALL, a MAGIC CUE BALL, and one of your favorite books of all time, PROBLEM SOOTH.
Among the USEFUL GIZMOS are of course your COMPUTER, which you keep inside a FUN LUNCHBOX for easy transport, and a couple of gizmos you keep handy so you don't always have to make the long trip to the kitchen. There is a COOKALIZER for preparing delicious meals, and a REFRIGERATOR, a name which clearly is a wacky variation on the much more common household item, the REFRIGIFYIFICATOR.
These things are stupid and useless!
When the MAGIC 8 BALL isn't being frustratingly ambiguous, its forecast is always wrong! You have tested it numerous times with certain facts you know to be true. This is its reply when you ask if it is your friend John's birthday today. See? Stupid!
You guess maybe it could be used as a reverse-prediction device, and always trust the opposite of what it says. But that seems dumb to you. And anyway, the thing gives you a bad vibe. You might consider smashing it, but you are a little superstitious about whatever ominous consequences that might have, even if the occult talisman in question is a cheap piece of garbage.
The MAGIC CUE BALL on the other hand is said to make predictions with alarming precision and specificity. Unfortunately it lacks a portal on its surface that allows you to view the prediction.
You put both of these pieces of junk back in the box.
You take the REFRIGERATOR.
You might as well grab the COOKALIZER too. No portable kitchen is complete without it.
You take your LUNCHTOP too, because obviously you're going to be using that pretty soon.
Whoops, there goes your FLUTE. But who cares.
Before you go out to feed BEC, you will need to prepare a meal for him.
You clear some space on your work table so you can set up your REFRIGERATOR and COOKALIZER.
Just for fun, Jade allows you to take a stab at matching the cards to use the gizmos. It doesn't present much of a challenge for her, so she figures she might as well step aside, while providing a few generous hints.
No, no... warmer. Warmer. Cooler. Cooler.
Yes. NO. Cold. ICE COLD.
You have selected the KEY LIME.
Way to go.
No. Cold. Really cold. FROZEN FUCKING TUNDRA.
Congratulations, you advance your matching skill to the new level: YUKON HERO: LEGACY OF THE FROSTBITE AMPUTEE.
Jade is beginning to regret breaking the fourth wall for this ill advised escapade.
If it were known in advance how terrible you were going to be at this matching game, the author may have given second thought to preparing this cool interactive Flash application.
Look at all these fruits on the loose. Good luck trying to settle them down.
You just deploy the gadgets yourself.
These fruits are unlikely to become less impudent any time soon regardless of where they are stored, but you stick them in anyway.
You take a look at the REFRIGERATOR'S rotary interface. You wonder what he is in the mood for today?
Ok, well it's a rotary dial so there are no buttons to press, but whatever that doesn't really matter.
You dial up a thick T-BONE STEAK, which you are sure Becquerel is in the mood for because he is in the mood for steak every day and is never in the mood for anything else.
But he does like his steak well cooked.
He does prefer his steak rare after all.
But you will not dignify the thought of turning the knob much further because you are not retarded.
You captchalogue the IRRADIATED STEAK and save it for your trip outside.
You probably shouldn't waste much more time. You wouldn't want all those nice depleted steak isotopes to settle down.
You wouldn't exactly call it an atomic bass, but it is heavily customized to accommodate a high level of musical virtuosity, the perfect instrument for the eclectically spirited.
You've tuned the strings way down of course because your stumpy arms can't reach the low notes.
You switch your ECLECTIC BASS to its advanced setting.
But you promptly switch it back, since obviously it's too complicated to play it in person like this. The default setting is your preferred mode for casual jamming.
And since you can't possibly waste enough time playing music, casually jam is exactly what you're gonna do.
You take the PORTABLE AMP from the WALL SOCKET too.
You like to make yourself comfy in your plushy pile before getting down to business with your computer.
Hey look, John is online! Hooray!
Also it looks like Dave pestered you about something yesterday but you missed it.
You greet John but he does not respond. He is undoubtedly gallivanting around his house in a state of barely restrained birthday mirth. He may also be retrieving the two packages and the two envelopes which you are certain came in the mail for him earlier.
You will wait a little while and see if he returns before you head out.
It does not appear so, but you just never know with that crazy and cool guy.
You open the FRESHJAMZ MEDIA PLAYER and add Dave's remix to the playlist.
You open your web browser and visit MSPA.
You navigate to a random page in the middle of the latest epic.
Looks like he was just finishing up some sort of weird tangential intermission here. Whatever it was, it clearly advanced the plot in no relevant way whatsoever.
You've killed a little time, but still no sign of John.
Rose is online.
You are now the other girl several hours in the future.
It appears a secret passage in the mausoleum has been opened.
It's getting awfully toasty in here. You gather up your belongings, including your dead cat.
You've spent enough time for now concerning yourself with the future of your friends.
John will not be available until later. By then he will have his hands full, as will you.
You pack up your LUNCHTOP and get ready to take care of some business downstairs.
Try as you might, you can't stop your mind from drifting to the fate of your friends. You dwell on a particular configuration of REMINDERS on your finger.
But years, not hours...
You enter the LABORATORY.
There are no scientists to be found, mad or otherwise. Or anyone for that matter. The lab appears to be deserted.
There is a KIOSK though.
It looks like the kiosk monitors the lab's enormous HUBGRID.
This is as far down as you can go.
The GRAND FOYER is still a few floors down, but the TRANSPORTALIZER on that level is blocked by one of GRANDPA'S impressive BIG GAME TROPHIES, and you just don't think he would cotton to someone moving it.
Speaking of which, here are some of his TROPHIES now. He has a million of these ghastly things. You really dislike them.
You hop down a level.
Granddad also likes to accumulate VALIANT KNIGHTS from his travels. These are pretty cool, you guess.
Oh yeah. How could you forget about his stash of DECREPIT MUMMIES.
God you hate these things.
This is your grandfather's collection of what he refers to as his BEAUTIES. No lovely lady will be fit for his collection unless her portrait has spent at least 20 years bleaching in the front window of a beauty parlor, a sort of establishment he's plundered no less frequently than ancient tombs.
You guess they were sort of like your sisters while growing up, and you were always encouraged to look up to them. They are all awfully pretty ladies you suppose, but it was always hard to get as excited about them as grandpa.
"Jade, study hard and keep your rifle at the ready. When adventure summons, I know you will rise to the task and take your rightful place among the DAUGHTERS OF ECLECTICA."
That old coot sure is a bag of wind!
You reach the ground level. This is the stupid thing blocking the transportalizer. It is unspeakably hideous.
Down the southeast hall is the GRAND FOYER. You'll have to cross through it to leave the house.
Looks like someone's pestering you.
Even though you thought you logged off... ?
Looks like a mapping of each hub's index.
It appears one of the hubs was recently unlocked.
At the center, you find a little stage that looks perfect for supporting a spectacularly silly dance. Or it would if standing on it didn't make you a little nervous, and also if that didn't sound like a retarded idea given the circumstances.
It looks sort of like the various contraptions you've been deploying in John's house. You wonder what it does?
Great, you just vaporized your dead cat. Oh well. Ashes to ashes you guess.
There's got to be a better way to deal with this lousy tree.
Looks like you can choose between picking leaves, or awkwardly uprooting the whole tree, as you've been doing.
You select LEAF. You also turn off AUTO-BALANCE, since its consequences can be a little mystifying sometimes.
You gather up all your items again in an order that places your LAPTOP in a conveniently accessible leaf. You're not sure why you didn't do this a lot sooner.
Kind of a funny looking tree now, but your concern for structural elegance is at an all time low.
As long as you're going to plug in your computer, you might as well find that hub.
Here it is. HUB SN_LAB0413. It is unlocked, and thus removable from the grid.
You suspect this was the same beacon transmitting the unsecured signal you were using earlier.
You pick the LAPTOP leaf from the tree.
You plug your LAPTOP into the HUB, then captchalogue the HUB and then the LAPTOP.
There must be a better place around here to set up your computer. This huge grid of electronics is sort of uninviting. You look around.
Hey, what's that?
It's another one of these ominous countdowns. You didn't notice it when you first entered the lab about a minute ago. It looks like this one may have been ticking for years.
Whatever it's ticking down to, there isn't much time. You can only hope that when you turn on your computer again, there will be a connection invitation from one Mr. Strider.
You don't have time to humor every random thought that pops into your head. The clock is ticking.
This looks like something of importance.
It appears to be Skaianet's primary SESSION TERMINAL, monitoring a great number of SBURB SESSIONS in the northeastern United States and parts of Canada. Upon further investigation you draw some logical conclusions.
It looks like each SESSION consists of an IP address and a physical location. The colored dots on the map appear to be METEOR IMPACT SITES. It seems each session corresponds with a meteor, but not all meteors have sessions.
The color of the dot appears to indicate the status of the meteor's descent. The red dots indicate meteors that have already landed. Yellow dots are imminent collisions. Green will impact later, and blue will take the longest to touch down.
You use the panel to center on your present location and zoom in. Surrounding the lab are of course the hundreds of smaller meteors that have been raining down steadily throughout the evening. Most of these meteor(ite)s have either landed already, or will shortly.
Centered over the lab is a significantly larger imminent collision. You can't say precisely how imminent, but you could certainly take an educated stab at it.
Just southwest of the lab, centered suspiciously near the location of your house, is an even larger looming collision. Though this one appears slightly less imminent.
The terminal looks like it can monitor any meteor or session around the world. Search filters can be applied as well, restricting results based on size, time of impact, location, and so on.
You zoom way out and narrow the search based on size. The two at the top of the list appear to be the biggest by far. You examine only their coordinates.
The second biggest is centered over a U.S. city. The biggest by a landslide is, luckily for the Earth you suppose, way out in the middle of the Pacific ocean.
You plug the laptop into the hub again and turn it on. It is now powered and connected to the wireless signal the hub is broadcasting.
Your Sburb session reconnects.
No sign of John here. You wonder why the house is shaking.
Last time you saw him he was on one of the roof platforms. You will have to navigate via the Sburb interface to find him.
You rocket up the ECHELADDER to the dizzying heights of the vaunted BOY-SKYLARK rung!!! Your new feather is hard earned and well deserved. And alarmingly fashionable.
You and your CERAMIC PORKHOLLOW rejoice in the mound of wealth yielded from your meteoric ascent up the ladder.
You are still not sure what all these BOONDOLLARS can actually get you. But when pulling in such insane loot hand over fist like this, who cares?
Your expanded CACHE LIMIT is more than enough to accommodate the grist windfall.
You gather up 2260 pieces of BUILD GRIST, 1040 pieces of SHALE, 490 drops of TAR, and 350 drops of MERCURY.
You can't wait to find out what amazing items this new supply of grist will be just barely insufficient to produce.
Oh god, there's grist littered down there too. Those stupid ogres were like huge grist pinatas.
One of those big SOUR GRAPE ELECTRIC HOLOCAUST FRUIT GUSHERS is jammed in the hole in the platform. You guess there's only one way to get it.
Where a kingdom lies entrenched beyond an impenetrable veil of darkness.
The Peregrine Mendicant.
You are flying westward in your peculiar mobile station. You have no sense of your bearings presently. The door is blocked by a metal column which extended through the entry shaft before liftoff.
What will you do?
This message to Dr. Brinner looks pretty serious.
The mail is sacred, and sacred is the trust between the Post Man and the recipients of his precious parcels. You have made a solemn pledge to deliver this letter to the doctor, just as soon as you determine where this address is, or find any sort of discernible mailing address in this wasteland, for that matter. The mail is freedom. The mail is life. The mail is the very fabric of civiliz...
Hold that thought for one moment...
The mail is the one final hope for resurrecting a dead planet from its ashes, and the letter carriers are the brave soldiers of God in this righteous crusade. They are the defenders of the light of knowledge, free communication, and the exchange of ideas. They are the bold toters of all those little papery conduits of freedom, the white postmarked angels that whisper a message on their deliverance, a promise to the yearning: "There is hope yet."
Liberty. Reason. Justice. Civility. Edification. Perfection.
It's the terminal you used to activate the station's homing mechanism. It looks like it has now returned control to you.
The default viewport displays commands previously entered, including your last and only command "=> HOME".
You type another one of the previously entered commands. It switches to the view of a young girl standing alone somewhere. There is a heavy amount of video interference of some sort.
The girl seems familiar to you.
You successfully disregard the TEA SET because it's stupid and shouldn't be in a place like this. You probe further into the lab.
Looks like a little girl's room. This all strikes you as a bit odd.
No time for messing around in here though.
Ok, maybe you'll do a LITTLE messing around. You are only human after aAUGH WHAT'S THAT
You are accosted by a friendly MUTANT KITTEN.
You know you should grab this thing, but...
You are suddenly feeling apprehensive about entering your father's room. With all the scamperin' around it almost slipped your mind how much you hate his hideous clowns.
No use putting it off any longer. There is only one thing left to do.
Give me a 'D'.
Give me an 'E'.
Give me an 'S'.
Give me a 'C'...
You scamper your heart out and bump into something. You don't know why he always insists on keeping it so dark in here.
Oh look, it was one of his dumb GLOBES. These things make it awfully difficult to navigate the foyer. We get it, granddad. You like to travel around the world going on adventures and stuff!
Lousy goddamn stupid globes.
GRANDPA will surely have stern words for you if he catches you without your trusty RIFLE at the ready. That's just what you need, another one of his blustering mustachioed diatribes. You are rolling your eyes in advance, getting them warmed up.
But ideally you can evade him altogether. All you have to do is get past the FIREPLACE and out the front door, and you will be scot-free.
These are the manor's four DISTINGUISHED HOUSEGUESTS. They like to gather here by the FIREPLACE for TEA TIME. As well as pretty much all other times. It's all very mannerly and civilized.
You know exactly what's going to happen when you try to sneak by. The FIREPLACE is going to light up and your GRANDPA'S silhouette is going to appear in front of the fire to give you a good spook. He is so predictable.
You suppose you could still manage to sneak by the crafty old man if you are fast enough. Avoiding an encounter would be ideal.
Encounters with him are usually........
You guess an encounter with him is almost certain now.
But most likely not for a while. Time to see what someone else is up to.
Oh, let's say... Dave.
YES i am going out with this gun!!! no i will not go get a bigger one!!! no i will not take yours! I can't even lift it!!!!!! oh that is so preposterous. do you even hear what youre saying? i will be fine! this is a perfectly deadly gun and it shoots lots of incredibly deadly bullets! oh will you just stop it. i am going now. Goodbye!!!!!!!!!!!!
He was so much easier to deal with when he was alive.
You fail miserably.
Oh look, there's some more mad science crap over here.
This weird arcade gizmo adapted to this setup obviously doesn't take coins anymore, assuming it ever did.
Besides, you left all your coins on the fridge, remember?
This doesn't appear to be a game.
It appears to be an APPEARIFIER.
You mess with the controls...
Hey, Jaspers is alive!!!
Or, at least he was in the past. According to the time-stamp this was almost nine years ago.
You try to move the crosshairs with the joystick, but it seems to be permanently locked on a specific target. You might be able to unlock it, but you clearly don't have much time to horse around with this thing.
You zoom out.
It looks like you and Jaspers were having one of your sessions. You weren't making a lot of progress though, because Jaspers was no doubt being characteristically recalcitrant. You possibly jotted this phrase down in your pad. It's hard to remember though.
Could this be THAT day??
You attempt to appearify Jaspers. This would surely cause a time paradox, because you can plainly see that he has not told you his SECRET yet.
But it seems the machine has a safety mechanism to prevent such irresponsible appearification practices.
The PARADOX GHOST IMPRINT of Jaspers appearifies instead, and quickly settles into a mound of sludge.
The machine beside it sucks up the paradox sludge and begins some kind of automated procedure.
It seems whatever sort of primordial biochemical properties the sludge possesses is being evaluated by the device.
The device generates a fetal PARADOX CLONE of Jaspers.
The wretched creature exhibits a number of unfortunate mutations though. The good news is that it will be mercifully UNESTABLISHED along with this facility shortly. This is also the bad news.
Whoever was operating this machine in the past may have been making unsuccessful attempts to perfect the science of ECTOBIOLOGY.
There is no need for a flashback. Conveniently, you can watch what happened right here on the monitor.
You roll the clock forward a few seconds. Jaspers reveals his stunning SECRET to you in strict confidence.
Before you could ask him to clarify, he vanished into thin air. You now believe you understand why.
However, you were not the one to appearify him from this moment. Your hand was nowhere near the controls just now.
A couple weeks after he vanished, his body washed up along the riverbank. His suit was a mess. Your mother fitted him with a new one just before the absurd funeral service she insisted upon.
You roll the clock forward to a week after he vanished. It seems there is no accessible feed tracing his whereabouts during that timeframe.
You fast forward another week. There he is, just as you found him.
IT'S JASPERS. HE'S ALIVE.
Well ok, he's still dead. But his body is intact. Turns out it wasn't some kind of DISINTEGRATIFICATOR like you thought.
It's more like...
Good thing you finally got all this sorted out. You only have 10 seconds to spare.
Time to stash the dead cat and amscray.
Good luck finding him! If he wants to be found, he will find you.
Becquerel has always managed to elude your prognosticative faculties. He is completely invisible to your intuition somehow, a property almost totally unique to him.
It used to freak you out a little, but you have long since grown accustomed to it.
Oh, it was nothing. Nothing at all. Moving right along.
The birthday package you were expecting from John arrived months late. And yet, right on time.
It landed over there past the crumbling monument, a satellite to the great MYSTIC RUINS at the center of the CRATER LAGOON.
Ok, you do that. You are now in your DAD'S room.
Hmm... Where are all the clowns?
You spot your DAD'S BRIEFCASE beside you. It probably contains all sorts of clues, or at least various forms and paperwork critical to his trade as a hilarious street performer.
Aw yeah, here come the secrets. Get ready for some MAJOR revela...
Wait a minute. These are just boring business documents and spreadsheets.
What the hell is going on here???
So all those years, while you believed he was out busking up the corners with hilarious antics, he was working as an ordinary business man all along. He was just a man trying to make a good honest living for his son. Maybe he was too embarrassed to tell you the truth? Or maybe it was just that you'd never bothered to ask?
You guess you always just assumed...
The human prisoner has broken out of his jail cell yet again. Attempts to block the cell door with heavy objects have proven futile.
You're going to need a bigger safe.
Who's this guy?
Got a nice ring to it.
But you know your own name. And that damn well ain't your name.
You are ARCHAGENT JACK NOIR. You oversee various affairs of a DARK KINGDOM. Presently you are determining how to deal with this prisoner, who has been a thorn in your side since he was apprehended.
You view the affairs of the kingdom through a series of FENESTRATED WALLS. You have three walls, nearly enough to form a CUBICLE OF VIGILANCE, which is a full and proper enclosure for an agent of your stature.
However, much to your utter contempt, your FOURTH WALL was stolen some time ago.
This frivolous headdress turns your stomach. You'd sooner stick your head in a furnace than coax it into this monstrosity's loathsome colorful maw.
It's bad enough that your EXALTED RULER ordered everyone to drape themselves in these hideous rags the moment the troublesome human with the pipe and his child showed up.
But you draw the line at the hat.
You order one of your burliest agents to the scene. He brings something heavier this time.
Your transmission is interrupted.
It seems your GLORIOUS MONARCH has concerns over your wardrobe.
You begrudgingly don the COMICAL HAT.
Stupid lousy WISE AND JUST LEADER. What a royal pain in the ass.
You fully intend to once your superior stops breathing down your neck for a second.
Your blood is boiling so hot you could cook an egg on your carapace.
Looks like you'll have to go handle this yourself.
It seems there are some unopened BIRTHDAY PRESENTS which DAD didn't get around to giving you yet.
The one on the right seems promising.
You open it to see what is inside and oh god yes.
You tear into this thing and put a mean peep on the sw33tloot.
In addition to the MODUS CONTROL DECK, you got a bonus ARRAY FETCH MODUS. Plus another 12 cards, which are practically worthless by this point, but hey you'll take 'em.
First thing you do is flush the extra cards into your deck.
Ok really this is just way too many cards.
The ARRAY MODUS allows you to store and retrieve any item from any card at any time. It seems exceptionally serviceable, albeit difficult to weaponize.
There's nothing to read, really. You just pop some MODUS CARTRIDGES in the slots, fire it up, and see what happens.
You start by putting the STACK and QUEUE MODI in the slots.
Your sylladex now behaves like both a STACK and a QUEUE. Items can be removed from either the top card or the bottom card.
You see no reason at all not to jam the ARRAY CARTRIDGE in there too. You make sure to blow the dust out first of course.
The sylladex reconfigures itself into an ARRAY of distinct QUEUESTACKS.
Now we're talking. This is just the sort of needless complexity you have come to expect from your INVENTORY MANAGEMENT SYSTEM.
You have a staunch policy of always saving the biggest present for last.
You receive a box of delicious FRUIT GUSHERS.
Could this birthday get any better? You don't think so.
You thought wrong.
Ok, awesome. Queuestack full'a shoes.
Dang! You spaced out and put it in the wrong queuestack. Don't worry, you'll get the hang of this thing.
So delicious. You can't wait to captchalogue one of these packs and make like a million gushers. Screw all this building nonsense! You'd rather make candy.
Wait a minute...
It can't be...
THE HEINOUS BATTERWITCH HAS HER GNARLED CLAWS IN EVERYTHING.
What do Gushers have to do with baked goods anyway??
How does this make sense???
FRUIT GUSHERS COOL FRUCTOSE MONSOON KIWI MANGO COLONIC RUSH WICKED WATERMELON GROIN INJURY MIXED BERRY SOCIAL ANXIETY DISORDER NEON GREEN ECTO-FACIAL BLAST JAMMIN' SOUR DIABETIC COMA WILD CHERRY APESHIT APOCALYPSE RANCH DRESSING RAMPAGE Betty Crocker FRUIT GUSHERS Win $10000 Betty Crocker FRUIT GUSHERS Betty Crocker THIS IS STUPID
Nope, no mixed atoms. Looks like you and the kitty kept your genes to yourselves.
Your new kitty whose name is...
You'll think of one later.
Hey where the heck are you anyway?
Oh, you're back home. The well-stocked bar and the vantage from the window tells you this is your MOM'S room. Or at least what you thought was her room.
You decide not to be especially melodramatic about this revelation.
Huh, that's funny. Shouldn't that place be unestablished by now?
The downpour of smaller meteors has stopped...
Better get out of here. This room is a powder-keg with all this booze lying around.
Suddenly you are feeling very businessmanlike for some reason.
You just punched a shitload of cards in anticipation of making a whole lot of cool stuff. This time you didn't foolishly destroy any items. You just looked at the codes for some objects you rounded up, and punched them on blank cards.
You wonder how much alchemizing you can get away with before Rose gets back? As if she's got any right to tell you what to do with your hard earned grist. You're the one running around here putting your ass on the line. All she's got to do is mess around with her computer!
Anyway, you better hurry.
You are now dreaming.
Your DREAMBOT is awake and active.
Your silly dance foreshadows nothing and is essentially meaningless.
But it sure is a lot of fun.
You climb into bed and try to get comfortable. But some sort of invisible force is pressing down on you, a strange feeling of cold heavy metal.
This happens every time you try to get into bed! No wonder you can never get any sleep.
There is not much to realize.
Of course you can fly.
You stop all this flying around nonsense and examine John's birthday package.
Unfortunately you cannot open it yet! This package has an important journey to make first. You are planning on delivering it momentarily.
Good thing you already know what's inside. Otherwise you would surely be consumed by curiosity and suspense. You sincerely pity anyone who might be forced to endure such a fate.
Enough for the above weather to be seasonably reconcilable...
You have already carved a few TOTEMS, but you have had to return to the living room for more CRUXITE DOWELS. Your carving work is not nearly complete.
Every time you reenter your room, you shudder at the recent handiwork of some mischievous imps. You just can't turn your back on them for a second!
Rotten imps. Those posters were like children to you.
At long last, you have returned to your bedroom with a stable power supply and internet connection.
VODKA MUTINI purrs at your side.
You SUPPOSE you will call it Mutie for short.
You cannot descend from the top of your mobile station. The loose cable you gathered up and tied together is not yet long enough to allow you to reach the ground safely.
You have used all the cable you can find. You will have to come up with another plan.
ABSOLUTELY NOT WHAT ARE YOU CRAZY
A MAYOR DOES NOT RELINQUISH HIS MAYORAL SASH UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES EVER PERIOD
That's such a dumb idea. Not as dumb as using your sash, but it comes close. That temple is way too big. You'd probably just end up appearifying a chunk of useless boring rock.
Wait, what's that?
There's something dangling from the top of one of the towers near the temple.
She is a tiny insect and cannot possibly lift more than the weight of a pumpkin seed!!!
She does however inform you of what the ledge contains through a series of informative blinks. There is an old rusty HARPOON lodged into the crumbling rock. Tied to it is a bunched-up jumble of HANDY CABLE. This strikes you as convenient! It is almost as if someone knew you would need a bunch of cable, and that you would have a MAYORAL SASH made out of cable, and that you were particularly attached to that MAYORAL SASH and would stubbornly refuse to use it.
Anyone who knew that much would surely possess a special gift! Alas it seems a bit far fetched.
Ok, we just established it was a cable and not a rope, but that's ok.
You take a hasty swig from one of your DELICIOUS PAWNS and put down.
You then quickly adjust the coordinates to appearify the jumble of HANDY CABLE.
Oh, of course. The time wasn't set to the present moment. Somehow it got reset to a few hundred years ago.
It is some sort of present from the past... in the present.
Attached is an envelope. It looks extremely important.
You open the envelope. Inside is a letter and another envelope.
This is all highly confusing and you do not know what to make of it.
Still it is obviously critical MAYORAL BUSINESS which you take very seriously and you will defend this package with your life.
You set the time to the present, and appearify the JUMBLE OF CABLE.
You tie all the cable together and carefully lower your precious PUMPKIN BINDLE.
You then rappel down the station with the PACKAGE, which must not leave your side.
Which is to say, THE PRESENT MOMENT PRECISELY...
Sprite prototyped once more with grandmother's remains. She treats John to some helpful exposition in a friendly and maternal (grandmaternal?) manner.
Co-player has displayed inexplicably capricious behavior since arrival. Stress-related? Contracted virus indigenous to realm? It should be noted he was kind of a weird guy anyway.
Ok, good idea.
You leave the MOON in the cycle though cause you like it.
Will you cut that out! You have company.
See? Over there.
You decide to check on your neighbor.
It is very much the same as your own! The only difference is that this one is home to a young boy instead of a young girl.
You peer through the window.
John is of course sound asleep. It looks like he is having troubled dreams as usual.
You cannot disturb his slumber though. He will wake up when he is ready!
Speaking of John, you wonder if he got the birthday present you sent him? Or for that matter, if you even remembered to send it?
Darn! You get so confused sometimes. If only you had some system in place to help you remember things.
Your MOON is getting very close to SKAIA. You had better go inside soon. It is never a very good idea to be outside during the ECLIPSE.
Maybe you can take the opportunity to log onto your computer and ask John about his present. You just know he will think it is awesome, and it will be a great way to thank him for the wonderful present he got you!
That would be pretty cool, and would promote the appearance to the audience that a whole lot was getting done in not much time, but it also sounds like kind of a pain in the ass so you decide to play it straightup this time.
Rose has moved the ALCHEMITER back down to the deck while she reworks the building project up there. Just as well because it will save you a lot of legwork. Between this thing, the designix and the lathe, that's a whole lot of scrambling around!
This time instead of overlapping (&&) the two cards which created the POGO HAMMER, you use the two codes to double-punch (||) a blank card, producing a different hole pattern.
The result is the HAMMERHEAD POGO RIDE. It doesn't look like it's as much fun as the original ride, but to be fair it's probably a lot safer.
Double-punching cards creates patterns with more holes, rather than less holes by overlapping cards. This strikes you as a viable method for combining more than two items without whittling down to too few holes, or too many! Just mix up the overlaps and double-punches, and the sky's the limit.
You make the GREEN SLIME GHOST SUIT.
Pretty swanky, but you are not completely satisfied with the wardrobe upgrade yet.
You make the WISE GUY SLIME SUIT.
This is so much better. It seems there are lots of secret trickstery gimmicks concealed in OH SHIT THERE GO THE CARDS
You make the SERIOUS BUSINESS GOGGLES.
This is a pretty nice hands-free communication solution, and it makes you look way cooler, like one of the kids from SPY KIDS or something.
God that was a good movie.
REAL SPIES...only smaller
You make the TELESCOPIC SASSACRUSHER, at pretty considerable expense. This thing could probably pound an ogre into crudeburger.
Of course you have no hope of lifting it whatsoever.
You mix your Gushers with some of the blue slime Nanna left on the wall to make a box of HELLACIOUS BLUE PHLEGM ANEURYSM GUSHERS (WITH GHOSTLY HEALING PROPERTIES!)
THESE SHOULD BE CONVENIENT, IF SOMEWHAT UNAPPETIZING.
You make the REMOTE GHOST GAUNTLET.
It looks like when you put on the special computer-glove it lets you control the big slimy ghost hand.
The GHOST GAUNTLET appears to have a considerably higher lift capacity than your own puny arms.
You make a LEFT HANDED REMOTE GHOST GAUNTLET to complete the pair.
BECAUSE YOU DON'T SEE WHY THE HELL NOT.
You make the BARBER'S BEST FRIEND.
It suddenly seems worthwhile to you to go nab that UMBRELLAKIND STRIFE SPECIBUS that's been lying in the study for a while.
You make a deadly BETTY CROCKER BARBASOL BOMB.
Be careful with that thing! Jesus!!
Ok, you have a cool idea for something to do with your GHOST DAD POSTER, but it looks like you drew shit all over that one too without realizing it.
Lousy goddamn stupid subconscious!
Anyway, you think you have an idea how to clean it up.
If you can somehow "subtract" the code of the JOKER FIGURINE from the code of the poster, it might work.
Luckily, the Joker code only has two holes, making the task very simple. The defaced Cosby poster shares those holes. You determine that the defaced Cosby could only result from a double-punching with the Joker, if your theory is correct. This means the original Cosby poster had one of those holes punched, or the other, or neither, making three total possibilities.
You try out all three possible codes, yielding:
- 1 POTTED PLANT
- 1 PAINTING OF A HORSE ATTACKING A FOOTBALL PLAYER
- 1 CLEAN COSBY POSTER
You make the COSBYTOP COMPUTER.
This thing is probably a useless piece of shit, but making it has caused you to feel an alarming sense of satisfaction.
You make another ordinary FEDORA with FOUR PIECES OF CANDY CORN inside.
Whatever this item is, you cannot make it yet! It requires a ludicrous amount of grist, some types of which you have not even encountered.
You make the WRINKLEFUCKER.
So much sweet loot. You'd almost think it was simultaneously your birthday, AND Christmas or something.
Of course you know that is ridiculous and could never conceivably happen.
You take a moment to gather your thoughts after your dream. While you are asleep it can get very confusing figuring out what is really happening and what isn't. Especially during the ECLIPSE, when you are exposed to many visions of the past, present, and future through a variety of CLOUD MIRAGES. It is only after you wake up that you are able to start making sense of it all, and your REMINDERS help you do this!
But on reflection, there wasn't much in the dream about the future. You were quite surprised to see your DOG in your dream though. It was the first time the crafty guardian has ever appeared in a dream! You have learned that today is his birthday, just like it is for your other best friend. You have always wondered about this, and never had the chance to throw him a party and bake him a cake. Now you can!
But if you do, it seems that you will need A LOT of candles.
Bec has never allowed you to enter the MYSTIC RUINS for reasons you never understood. You always assumed it was on account of your protection. But your dream has strongly suggested to you that is where you need to go now!
Since your DREAMBOT is secured in its chamber and does not need to be looked after, Bec is taking a nap in the GRAND FOYER as he usually does. Perhaps you can take advantage of this and sneak out of the house another way?
Oh yes, of course! One of your REMINDERS reminds you that you still have a package to deliver too. This way you can kill two birds with one harpoon gun.
See you little dude.
If you had any more APPLE JUICE you would pour some out for your homie.
You'll have to remember to double-check your closet for more juice.
Perhaps you will. But if you do, it looks like you'll have to break it first.
Perfectly good STRIFE SPECIBUS, down the toilet. Thanks BRO.
You try to grab the BETA (6) but you forgot your sylladex is completely packed.
You wonder why you jammed all this useless crap in here in the first place. Maybe you assumed you would weaponize it all during one of your customary HASHRAP battles with your BRO. But in retrospect that probably just would have been a huge chore and would have made the battle drag on forever.
It's like what are you made of time.
You dump all this crap all over the roof.
You then set your modus to the SCRABBLE HASH FUNCTION for some reason. This function always makes it a little less intuitive to calculate hash values for items, and therefore more cumbersome to rap with. But you guess that's kind of a moot point now that your BRO flew off fuck knows where. His mysterious ways transcend irony once again.
You get the BETA (3+1+1+1), now yielding a radically different hash value with the Scrabble function.
Which is to say a radically exactly the same value.
You have finally finished your building project. You have done about all you can do for John. You don't think you can provide much assistance against all those ogres this time, but at least now John appears to be armed to the teeth.
All there is left to do is wait for Dave.
That would certainly hasten the parcel's delivery, but the gift is not finished yet!
You have spent months accelerating your knitting skills to be able to make the gift of perfect sentimental appeal. You even incorporated a cherished heirloom you have had as long as you can remember.
When he sees your staggering gesture of sentimentality he will finally understand. He will understand that in the game of facetious sentimental gestures, no one gets the best of Rose Lalonde.
thanks for being such a great friend all these years. i know you like to make it out like you're playing it cool and don't care much about the people in your life, but i know deep down you really do. hell, not even that deep down. it's like, um, like your subconscious is having a wet t-shirt contest, and you being all aloof is this totally soggy shirt doing no good at all at hiding nothin'. oh wait, it looks like two can play at this game of cracking all these high falutin psychology books! AW SNAP!!!
but yeah, i got you this because i think you're really creative and you could make something nice with it if you put your mind to it. and it might help you take your mind off a lot of all this serious business you're always absorbed in. you know, all this weirdo pseudo-gothy stuff or whatever. frankly it's kind of depressing.
anyway you're the best rose! have a rad 13th! (i will catch up with you guys soon. god you're all so old.)
i just wanted to take a break from telling you how much your gay butt stinks all the time and say what an awesome friend you are. seriously, on any other day i would be downplaying how you aren't really as cool as you think you are, but just between you and me i think you might actually be that cool. i think you just gotta get out of your bro's shadow and spread your wings dude!!!
so i got you these. they're totally authentic! they actually touched ben stiller's weird, sort of gaunt face at some point. i'm sure you'll dig them because i know you lolled so hard at that movie. ok so for real, this is sort of a shitty present, but it is an ironic present because i know you wouldn't have it any other way. maybe you can wear them ironically some time. they MIGHT even be more ironic than you and your bro's dumb pointy anime shades.
anyway, have a good one buddy! and stay busy being totally sweet!
The Aimless Renegade.
You have identified a couple of unwelcome rogues outside your present stronghold. They are in violation of your jurisdiction. Despite your ordinarily striking marksmanship, you have spent your entire ammo clip without recording a single killshot.
What will you do?
You don't give a shit about that.
The wall exhibits rows of ancient hieroglyphs depicting an array of amphibious and reptilian life forms.
This is illegal pictography. It makes you angry.
There is plenty of ammunition stored in the various AMMO CRATES which you have spent a great deal of time unearthing from nearby dunes and hauling back to your stronghold. You have a large variety of weaponry and ammunition at your disposal.
Whether you can locate some more AK47 rounds quickly enough is a different matter.
You retrieve a pair of deadly SIDE ARMS.
But you will need a longer-ranged weapon if you are to continue your enforcement.
You wonder if you should reconsider your grievance with the offenders. Perhaps you should let it slide? They seem friendly enough, and it's been so long since you've had company. It would also be quite a pity to blow up that tall attractive female.
But then again...
They are both in flagrant violation, trespassing through several zones which you painstakingly marked as off-limits while you conduct your investigation of this crime scene. It is your duty to investigate this ILLEGAL MONUMENT and get to the bottom of its ILLICIT AMPHIBIOUS IDOLATRY. Just thinking about all the sloppy footprints they are leaving in the sand makes your carapace steam.
The law is all that's left to hold on to in this unforgiving dust bowl. You cannot afford to loosen your black claw's grip lest justice slip through your fingers. Law is beauty. Order is peace. Judgment is the very basis for all that is pure and...
Hold that thought.
You need to take a moment to wear something ridiculous before you continue your spiel...
ORDER IN THE COURT. YOU WILL HAVE ORDER IN THIS COURTROOM. IF EVERYONE DOES NOT SETTLE DOWN YOU WILL CLEAR OUT THIS COURTROOM, YOU SWEAR TO GOD.
It appears to be a large stage serving as a kind of elevator. But it can't go down because there's something jammed in it. Looks like a peculiar musical instrument, probably centuries old.
But yeah, the jury agrees. You've got to go blow up those trespassers.
You put John's present down in just the right spot, along with a letter you prepared a little while ago after a particularly interesting series of dreams.
Should be any minute now...
You put down the time-bait. It's out of your hands now.
You guess you could swim.
Maybe you can think of a better way across though.
This is kind of confusing.
But you guess it's straightforward enough, even if the drawing is somewhat inaccurate...
STUPID STUPID STUPID
You had them right in your crosshairs. You have no idea how a crack shot like you could have missed. It is practically inconceivable.
You reload and take aim.
That fair carapace... how it sparkles in the desert light.
No. You cannot afford to be distracted by such thoughts. You are busy being the law.
YOU ARE THE LAW WHOOPS
Oh it's this guy again and his little blinking bee. So outrageous.
At the bottom of the letter is a series of coordinates along with further instructions.
You know what you must do.
Liberty. Reason. Justice. Civility. Edification. Perfection.
Today is your BIRTHDAY. Your grandfather has decided to celebrate by introducing you to THE THRILL OF THE HUNT.
But suddenly you and Bec are wandering off. Where is this silly DOG taking you?
You find a PRESENT.
You open it to find a shirt that is way too big for you, and... pumpkin seeds?
There is also a letter.
it's hard to thank you enough for your friendship over the years. heck, if it weren't for you i wouldn't even have met rose and dave, so that is like, THREE TIMES the friendship! that is almost like, TOO MUCH FRIENDSHIP. ha ha. i only wish i could get you something for your birthday that could remotely make up for what you've given me, but of course that's impossible. so here are a couple silly things anyway!
i went to a weird asian store the other day and saw this rad shirt, so i got it and i'm wearing it now! but there was a blue one too which was way more awesome, and i wanted you to have it. i know you like green a lot, but maybe you'd like to try wearing blue sometimes? i bet you'd look like a million bucks! also i know you've been frustrated lately about how your pumpkins keep disappearing. well, i can't begin to explain why that's happening! all i can do is give you these so you can plant some more. don't give up, jade! wherever those dumb old pumpkins went off to, i'm sure you know the fun is in growing them and taking care of them until they're ready!
whew, got to head out to the post office now so this doesn't get to you TOO late! talk to you soon!!!
Who is this John claiming to be your friend? And these other friends he mentions?
Whoever he is, you think he might be on to something. Blue is a very pretty color! Also, growing some pumpkins sounds like it could be fun. Maybe you will ask Grandpa if you can use the atrium to do some gardening. This will be exciting.
You bear the vicious brunt of this story transition directly in the face.
You are getting really tired of this feisty man and his busy fists.
Here, stick this in your pipe and bleed to death slowly.
You release the prisoner. He is free to go.
(Install progress texts as previously) SBURB Rose: ? Dave ? 0,000,000,000:00:00:04:26 -> 4:25 -> 4:24 -> 4:23 STRIIIIIIDDEEEERRRRRRR!!! Jade: Z Colonel Sassacre's Daunting Text of Magical Frivolity and Practical Japery Dear John... (letter contents given in next panel) 0:19 -> 0:18 -> 0:17 -> 0:16 -> 0:15 -> 0:14 -> 0:13 -> 0:12 -> 0:11 -> 0:10 -> 0:09 -> 0:08 -> 0:07 -> 0:06 -> 0:05 -> 0:04 -> 0:03 0:00 BOING BOING BOING
Your name is SPADES SLICK. You are the leader of a notoriously vicious gang of mobsters called the MIDNIGHT CREW. A rival gang known as THE FELT recently knocked over one of your favorite casinos. Your long quest of revenge has finally taken you through the front door of the mansion belonging to their loathsome boss, LORD ENGLISH.
Your subordinates, CLUBS DEUCE, DIAMONDS DROOG, and HEARTS BOXCARS have been dispatched to various locations throughout the mansion to begin carrying out your mission. Your objective is to locate and crack English's SECRET VAULT, and plunder its mysteries.
That's the business end of it. The pleasure will be painting this ugly house red with the blood of those miserable green motherfuckers.
Stupid gang and their lousy obsession with clocks. The sooner all these idiots stop being alive the better.
You wonder where they are. It's awfully quiet in the mansion, sans all the dreadful ticking.
You obviously have no idea what that means.
If it's some smartass way of saying to pick it up, forget it. You are already carrying an item. It is your trusty DECK OF CARDS.
You have an idea that is so much better.
CLOCKS DESTROYED: 4/1000
What is under the rug is much worse than any trap you can imagine.
It is a member of a species that you do not recognize, with a ghastly furred upper lip.
You cover the unsightly individual back up and try to forget it ever existed.
You would need a DECK OF CARDS to play that infernal game.
Fortunately all you have is your WAR CHEST, which you deploy on the floor.
You rummage around. It's no unusual assortment of belongings, and nothing any mobster worth his salt would be caught plotting and scheming without. Certainly nothing eyebrow raising.
Bunch of blades, some playing cards, and a variety of other miscellaneous stuff.
Also your VENDETTA ITINERARY and your HEIST MAP.
If there are any elaborate headdresses in here, you'll eat your haberdasher.
But of course there is only a plain and serviceable BACKUP HAT, which naturally conceals two LICORICE SCOTTY DOGS.
Which makes you think that maybe you are wearing your BACKUP HAT, and this is your usual one? Hell if you know. They are the same damn hat.
You cannot hide properly inside the chest because you cannot close it while you are inside.
Instead you momentarily pretend it is a really cool automobile that commands the fear and respect of larcenous adversaries everywhere.
BEEP BEEP BEEP
All aboard the idiot wagon!
Is that what this thing is? You've had it for some time, and don't quite remember how you got it. You never knew the identity of this pipe-smoking creature.
Perhaps it could be the same species as the character you just saw under the rug. But you know that is impossible, because this one does not feature the same bizarre furred lip. They are probably differing species within the same genus.
You don't know why you are wasting time on this website. It is for little children who poop hard in their baby ass diapers.
Also you don't understand what the hell is going on or who all these characters are. It's all a lot of nonsense.
CLOCKS DESTROYED: 5/1000
You take the RULES CARD FOR BLACKJACK.
You have possessed this item for as long as you can remember. You do not yet know its significance. Though you can hustle up a mean game of blackjack when you need to.
These are the mugshots of everyone you are going to kill.
You got a head start. You already offed CROWBAR (7), MATCHSTICKS (11), and QUARTERS (14), depleting them of some of their muscle. You've still got to watch out for the others, and stay wary of their despicable time shenanigans.
ITCHY (1) has given you the slip repeatedly. DOZE (2) you've captured and interrogated just as repeatedly, to no avail. TRACE (3) has broken into your secret hideout more times than you can count, while FIN (5) always seems to be a step ahead of you and scoops your heists. CLOVER (4) has all the intel and is highly cooperative. You might need him to crack the vault. He'll be guarded. Best to avoid DIE (6) in any direct confrontations unless you want a temporal mess on your hands. But if you need any repairs, you could always get to STITCH (9) and "persuade" him. And you might need to if you can't kill SAWBUCK (10) with a clean shot. EGGS (12) and BISCUITS (13) are morons. But they are dangerous morons. CANS (15) is a tank and your crew'll probably need more ammunition than you packed to take him down.
No one knows what LORD ENGLISH looks like. But that'll be corrected tonight.
You've got dibs on English. He's all yours.
It's right here.
But you aren't gonna kill SNOWMAN (8).
It's out of the question.
On review, your schemes seem a bit convoluted. But you wouldn't have it any other way.
Deuce and Droog split up to neutralize as many Felt as they can find. Your heavy muscle and expert safecracker, Boxcars, is headed straight down to the vault.
You put the word out to your cronies for a status report. No response yet.
You clean up all your junk and prepare to get this show on the road.
You slip the SPADE KEY back into the DECK OF CARDS, then pocket the WAR CHEST.
Smooth as clockwork, and every bit as logical.
Funny, you didn't hear any commotion or gunplay. But it looks like there's already been some action in here. Or there will be. You can never take tense for granted with these goons.
13/1000 CLOCKS DESTROYED. Apparently.
Looks like Clubs Deuce is getting back to you.
He says he's got Doze tied up for interrogation.
You ask him what else is new. Capturing that guy is like shooting a paralyzed monkey in the face.
You are now Clubs Deuce.
He remains tight-lipped, so you deal him a senseless shin-drubbing with your CROOK OF FELONY.
Oh the humanity. You can barely watch.
He's probably still using his special ability to slow time down for himself.
He can't feel a damn thing, and certainly isn't saying anything. Apart from a very low noise which could be him saying "ow" very, very slowly.
Why would you do that? All of these clocks are lovely. You see no reason to harm them.
987/1000 CLOCKS UNHARMED
You begin a feeble campaign of psychological warfare. Perhaps compromising his fashion motif is the way to get to him.
Nope. Looks like he's still in his weird state of stasis and doesn't care.
Either that or it's driving him nuts. Just very slowly.
War chest? What are you talking about. All you've got is this simple, unassuming DECK OF CARDS.
Don't be stupid. To play solitaire you'd need a DECK OF CARDS.
I don't see a DECK OF CARDS, do you? All I see is your BATTLEDROBE.
Oh no. It's Itchy, and it looks like he's all wound up.
He unties Doze and quickly swaps everyone's HATS around.
Doze proceeds to make a fleetfooted getaway.
Alright, you're the boss. Hearts Boxcars you ain't.
Someone has replaced your plain and serviceable HAT with a silly and undersized one. An outrage beyond compare.
You're sure you know who the culprit was. You can still smell his overly caffeinated blood...
986/1000 CLOCKS SHOWN MERCY
4/15 GREEN TORSOS DEAD
You are already wearing Deuce's hat you fool. The one on the floor is Droog's hat. This is exactly why you always keep a BACKUP HAT on hand.
This son of a bitch on the floor here has played his last game of musical hats. Soon these lugs will learn to show you some respect. You made this town what it is after all. Wasn't nothin' but a bunch of dust and rocks before you got here.
You deploy your chest and swap this dinky little hat for one more suited to your tastes.
Wait a minute...
Thank god. Your precious SCOTTY DOGS are still here. You don't know what you'd do without them. You don't want to even think about it.
Die makes his usual sort of entrance. The nonplussed, vaguely bewildered sort.
You got it. Clubs Deuce it is.
You have opened your BATTLEDROBE in search of your BACKUP HAT. You also need some more ROPE to retie Doze, who is absolutely tearing through the mansion as we speak. If you don't hurry, he may clear the chair within the hour.
But it's a big mess. You mostly just see a bunch of bombs and cards.
You're not sure what's what. You can never remember which card to pick up.
You can't believe how shitty your memory is.
You pick up two LICORICE GUMMY BEARS.
These need to be stored for safe-keeping as soon as possible. Finding your BACKUP HAT has never been more urgent.
You pick up a bunch of cards and fling them Doze-ward.
Didn't accomplish a whole lot, other than put some of your private reading material on embarrassing public display.
You're a busy guy so you just pick up any old thing and put it on your head. Since you are in a big hurry you will assume that it is your BACKUP HAT.
You stand nearby the two remaining cards on the floor. An OFF-SUITED KING AND JACK.
You aren't going to stand around jack king off all day long, so you grab the JACK OF DIAMONDS.
Here's your BACKUP HAT. Problem solved, you guess.
You suddenly remember you are Diamonds Droog.
Whoever took your hat is about to discover he's the unluckiest man on earth. He better hope you find him dead. What you're gonna do to him will be much less painful that way.
You don't have a BACKUP HAT all you got is this DECK OF CARDS oh wait yes you do.
It's stashed away in your BRAWLSOLEUM.
You are the only member of this band of thugs who is civilized enough to keep more than one BACKUP HAT, as well as an extensive array of FINELY TAILORED SUITS.
The BRAWLSOLEUM seemed like the best storage option for your exceptional wardrobe. If there's any better sort of compartment to keep your wardrobe in, you'd love to hear it.
Also there's a shitload of guns and cards in there too.
You put on a BACKUP HAT.
Whew. Your SWEDISH FISH are there.
This is why it's a good idea to always store your candy in your BACKUP HAT rather than your usual one. Other members of your gang have learned this the hard way and they're finally starting to catch on.
Suddenly you get coldcocked in the face from the future.
You'd know the knuckles belonging to that suckerpunch anywhere.
Trace always knows where you've been.
The spineless rat likes to follow your PAST TRAIL around and mess with you.
Trouble is, whenever he does, he lets you know exactly where he's going to be in the future. This time you'll be ready for him.
You radio Deuce for backup. Give him a time and place, and exactly what path through the mansion to take.
You don't know if the wounded guy went up the stairs, or came down. Or who wounded him, and when. Might have even been you, for all you know.
Can't overthink this time stuff.
You go with your gut and head upstairs.
After giving a quick 10-4 over the RADIO, you take another look at your prisoner. He lucked out. Looks like round two of your brutal interrogation will have to wait.
You couldn't find any ROPE, so you tied him up with a STRETCH ARMSTRONG DOLL which you happened to have lying around. You don't remember how you got it.
It looks sort of dumb, but it will have to do.
Time to hit the road. You beat your hostage into the back of your BATTLEDROBE with the BULL PENIS CANE.
Wait this is a BULL PENIS CANE?
You flip the fuck out over the fact that this is apparently a BULL PENIS CANE.
Itchy always cheats. But he's always cheated for the last time.
You're gonna jump to a timeline where he's dead.
Looks like he got what he deserved.
As usual, you find yourself in a bit of a predicament.
You introduce your CAST IRON HORSE HITCHER to your new friend.
Die scrambles for a PIN he's been saving for a special occasion.
How many times does he have to tell you. He made this town.
You stop not being Hearts Boxcars.
You have made your way to the Felt's SECRET VAULT. It's bigger than you were expecting. You doubt you will be able to rely on your usual safe-cracking method, which is prying it from the wall with your bare hands. You'll have to think of something else.
This is just absolutely the most ridiculous thing you could possibly choose to do right now. I mean come on.
Why don't you take a closer look at that safe...
Seriously stop that.
That notion is even more ridiculous than the last one. Wait who are you kidding no it isn't.
Looks like the combination to the safe is entered via the hands of the clock. And you somehow doubt spinning the hands around manually is going to cut it. Knowing these guys, you've got to alter the flow of time itself to make it work.
Which of course is bullshit. You think you'll just blow it up instead. Time to get Deuce on the radio.
You deploy the WRATHTUB.
You retrieve your pair of WAX LIPS.
If anyone tried to steal your WAX LIPS, you would eat their eyeballs and deliver an angry lecture into their empty sockets.
Just glancing at it gives you palpitations.
Literature for avid CARDIOFICIONADOS such as your self. Those burgeoning red humps... that miscievous little tail... the snug, welcoming cleft...
The saucy imagery is hard to beat. Harder than what you beat inside your chest now. Your heart is what you're beating.
You beat it to RED CHEEKS MAGAZINE pretty regularly, you'd say.
You radio Deuce on the 10-4 cards. Let him know you you need a powdermonkey on the double.
You hear ticking. And it's not coming from the big VAULT CLOCK above.
You hope it's not what you think it is...
Oh no. Oh God.
It's Biscuits. His OVEN TIMER is ticking. This is no good.
Ugh, there he is.
This idiot thinks his special oven transports him into the future by the amount he sets on the timer. Well, he's sort of right. But in reality, all that's happening is that he's hiding in there until the timer's up, then pops out.
You guess he's relatively harmless if he's alone. You can take him. What you really have to worry about is if he teams up with...
Oh no. That ringing. That godawful ringing. You can hear it...
Son of a FUCK.
You might as well just grab one of your axes and kill yourself now.
In the future, you've already followed the path through the mansion that Droog told you to.
Trace followed Droog's PAST TRAIL even further back, but found a much fresher trail crossing his path.
Looks like this little guy's talking on the radio. Says something about how he'll be right there once he gives Droog a hand.
Trace decides he'll trace this guy for a while, see what he's up to. And then mess with him of course.
In the present, you talk on the radio. Say something about how you'll be right there once you give Droog a hand.
Looks like the trail of blood ends here. Or originates. Whatever.
Something went down here in the past. Or... is about to go down in the future? You know what, never mind.
21/1000 CLOCKS DESTROYED, APPARENTLY
Hang on. There's a tooth on the floor. You know that tooth. You've felt its bite before.
Fin was here.
And judging by the forensics of the scene, the angle it hit the floor, the direction of the blood splatters and how dry the blood is, you think you know EXACTLY what he's about to pull.
Or more specifically, what he's about to already have pulled.
Fin always knows where you're going.
He's followed your FUTURE TRAIL here. He likes to mess with you from the past.
Trouble is he tips you off to where he's been. This time you're ready.
Wait for it. Wait...
Predestined bullet holes are convenient. Gives you something to aim for.
7/21 CLOCKS REDESTROYED
That doesn't make any sense.
You never went anywhere.
Die realizes there is a cost to settling the score with you in this way. The cost is having to live in a desert amidst the ruins of a dead civilization for the rest of his life.
He thinks that's stupid, so he pulls your pin.
You grab his VOODOO DOLL, and stick his pin in there for good measure. Might as well keep track of everyone you've offed this way too.
Not that you intend to abuse its power to settle your score. What's the point if you're not gonna get your hands dirty.
Still, it might come in handy down the road. Lord English is supposedly indestructible. He's rumored to be killable only through a number of glitches and exploits in spacetime. The doll may ultimately help you work the system if it comes to that.
29/1000 CLOCKS DESTROYED
5/15 GREEN TORSOS DEAD
Problem with that is, he'll just see your FUTURE TRAIL following him, and that'll be nothing but a loud invitation for him to mess with you some more.
Besides, better to leave him alive. You think you know where he'll lead you to. Just got to be a little more subtle about tracing his BLOOD TRAIL. Keep your FUTURE TRAIL out of his line of sight.
Spades Slick cannot return to being Hearts Boxcars because obviously Diamonds Droog is too busy being Clubs Deuce.
You just watched Trace throw a punch into thin air for some reason. That guy's awfully silly!
He then skulks off somewhere.
You don't realize he's following Droog's PAST TRAIL through the mansion until he gets to the point where it intersects with your trail, at which point he'll start following you.
But we all realized it. Because it's obvious and couldn't possibly be more clear.
You follow Droog's simple instructions. So simple even a forgetful nincompoop like you can remember.
There's a BLOOD TRAIL on the floor that goes in a different direction than Trace went. You decide to follow it, because that sounds like a really good idea to you.
If there was something you were supposed to do after helping out Droog, you'll be damned if you remember what it was.
Trace catches up to where you were. But you're gone already. All he sees is the long, gross rubbery arm of your PAST TRAIL stretching through the room.
He finds his comrade tied up with the stretchy rubber arms of a small man. But there is nothing gross or unpalatable about that in the least.
Doze unslows himself and begins mumbling something feverishly.
About his hat.
7/15 GREEN TORSOS DEAD
107/1000 CLOCKS DESTROYED
Fin makes his way through the mansion to get some help.
He wonders where this little guy is going. Deuce's FUTURE TRAIL is headed in the same direction he's headed, by sheer coincidence. Fin decides to follow him for a bit, keep an eye on him. For as long as Deuce's path matches his, that is. There's pretty much no chance he's headed to the same place, though. That would be statistically improbable.
He's got no idea what these other goons are up to here. Funny, their FUTURE TRAILS end here. He's not gonna stick around long enough to find out why. He's a bit too woozy from the blood loss to sort out this mess anyway.
It's uncanny. This little guy is matching Fin's route every step of the way.
HE MUST KNOW SOMETHING.
Fin decides he's got to take him out.
But he can't get a clear shot. Too dizzy, and with all that C4 under Deuce's HAT, firing would be a bad idea.
MY GOD HE'S THOUGHT OF EVERYTHING.
Clearly dealing with a criminal mastermind here.
You stop to admire this gorgeous clock. It is so pretty. Too bad it's not ticking like so many of the clocks in this place. Not that you can blame them. There are so many clocks in this mansion it would obviously be impractical to make sure they all work properly.
Oh look. A trail of blood.
You think you'll start following it.
YOU HATE TIME TRAVEL YOU HATE TIME TRAVEL YOU HATE TIME TRAVEL YOU HATE TIME TRAVEL YOU HATE TIME TRAVEL YOU HATE TIME TRAVEL YOU HATE TIME TRAVEL YOU HATE TIME TRAVEL YOU HATE TIME TRAVEL YOU HATE TIME TRAVEL YOU HATE TIME TRAVEL
Above, a spectator has appeared at the strike of 4 and has been giggling at your foolishness for a number of minutes.
Clover would have been tickled to help you open this vault! At the cost of answering a few of his clever TIME RIDDLES, needless to say.
If only you'd thought to seek his help first, rather than charging like the silly brute you are into this deadly trap of stable and not so stable time loops. Mostly unstable, really. These guys are way too dumb to maintain even elementary looping stability for more than a couple iterations.
If you weren't so preoccupied, Clover could tell you that you could use Crowbar's help to pry anything out of a time loop, stable or otherwise.
If you weren't so preoccupied, and if he weren't so dead! Hee hee hee!
Stitch mutters to himself in his shop. He guesses Eggs and Biscuits are roughhousing again, because the fabric of spacetime is tearing something fierce on Lord English's CAIRO OVERCOAT. This sort of thing is exactly why he keeps a BACKUP COAT, and always leaves Stitch with one of them.
Any gang does well to have an in-house doctor on hand. But if you deal in time travel you better have a damn good tailor too.
You tell Slick to get his scrawny ass to the vault. It's goddamn bedlam down here. You tell him you asked Deuce for backup but surprise surprise he's nowhere to be found. Big surprise, you tell him. You tell him that was sarcasm. He says he knows.
Slick says he'll be right there. He'll see if he can round up Droog for support.
Droog says Deuce is tailing Fin, while he is tailing Deuce. He'll be there to help out Boxcars as soon as he and Deuce take care of business with Stitch. Couldn't be simpler.
Oh yeah, he also mentions he pumped Fin full of lead so you can cross him off the list. You roger all that.
Fin busts into Stitch's workshop blubbering something about watching out for the little guy who's about to come in here. He says to watch out because he's got a bomb on his head which is undoubtedly quite volatile and even the slightest spark would surely set it off.
Stitch sees Fin's obviously in pretty bad shape, and checks his EFFIGY. Sure enough, the thing's in tatters. But he should be just fine if it can be patched up before he bleeds to...
8/15 GREEN TORSOS DEAD
Everybody out of the god damn way. You got a hat full of bomb, a fist full of penis, and a head full of empty.
Stitch says drop the livestock knob and settle the hell down.
He says you do realize C4 is a stable explosive and won't detonate with gunfire, right?
You say oh.
Drop it and get in.
Don't bleed on the suits.
Stitch says huh?
You admit the thought of carrying an imprisoned tailor wherever you go is gratifying for personal reasons.
But in this case keeping him alive should be useful in dealing with English later.
This predictably accomplished nothing!
Taking your smut out of hiding turned out to be a very bad idea. Now copies from the future are appearing left and right and these clowns have their paws all over it.
SLICK WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU
Crowbar's alive again. And a whole bunch of other stuff is different.
You forgot this gang almost seems halfway competent when he's running the show.
The good news is you get to kill him again.
You have no idea how much you'd like to. But even you're not that crazy.
Still, kinda tempting.
Everyone always ceases gunplay when Snowman's around.
If you kill her you destroy the universe.
It's not a knife. It's Snowman's CIGARETTE HOLDER.
All you know is she's gonna have a hell of a time getting it back.
You chuck the LANCE at Sawbuck.
But of course it's only a fleshwound. Seems like that's the only sort of wound you can ever inflict on the corpulent lummox.
Consequently you and he both jump to a random point on the timeline. This looks to be in the recent past, when Stitch and Crowbar were setting up the crates for the imminent gunfight. Which was very thoughtful of them.
Your goons should be showing up any minute with the heavy firepower. For now you've got the drop on everybody.
Stitch gets the business end of your SABER RATTLE. He's dead. In this timeline at least.
Where do you think you're going, fatty?
You'll deal with him in a minute.
You whip out your DOUBLE EDGED SWORD and OCCAM'S RAZOR.
Crowbar deflects the KING OF SPADES into Sawbuck's unmissable carriage. You jump far into the past.
Which is to say the present, for the time being...
A SCURRILOUS STRAGGLER eyes impromptu desert skirmish.
He dismisses them as a bunch of ill-mannered rogues warranting no further investigation. Although he gives a small nod of approval to the plain and serviceable HAT worn by one of the combatants which strikes him as an absolutely smashing display of good fashion sense.
You can't kill him yet. You need him alive to return to the original timeline.
You will be taking that CROWBAR though.
You cram him in the WAR CHEST.
Sawbuck you need to keep alive too, for the moment. Not to return to the right timeline, but the right time.
Speaking of which, where's tubby think he's waddling off to.
You treat him to a bit of the old BAIT AND SWITCHBLADE.
You appear in the future. You guess this is after the gunfight is over. The gunfight that never took place since you killed/kidnapped everyone who was supposed to be involved. Looks like only Boxcars is here.
You order Hearts to drop his tub on the double before this fat lard puts you in a wheelchair.
If you take Sawbuck back to your own time and kill him there, that should save you the trouble of hunting him down. Might as well take Stitch too.
Maybe. You're not really sure if that's how it works. You don't really care though.
You dump them in the WRATHTUB, then stick the tub in your own DECK OF CARDS.
But you give Boxcars back his sordid literature, which he'd carelessly left in plain sight. No one will ever catch you leaving your smut around. And even if you did, that copy of TERRIER FANCY MAGAZINE could belong to ANYBODY. No one could prove nothin'.
You go back to your original timeline.
But now, stuffed in your chest you've got a live Crowbar from another timeline. Brought to the timeline where he's supposed to be dead... so you guess now he's alive in this timeline which is in part defined by his death? Ok, whatever. You should probably just kill him again anyway.
Also Sawbuck from another timeline is in there too. So you guess now there are two Sawbucks? This is getting kind of dumb.
You open the chest releasing them both. Crowbar doesn't look too pleased.
You deflect his gunfire into the awesome gravitational pull of Sawbuck's astonishing girth.
Everybody into the past!
You dodge his next round too.
It seems Sawbuck from this timeline (i.e. the "real" Sawbuck) was in this room at this point in time. He and Crowbar exchange bullets. Off they go.
They no doubt go on to spend the rest of their ammunition peppering each other throughout the timeline, destroying all these clocks in the process between now and the present. You guess that explains the mess when you got here. Thank God you figured that out. You'd have surely lost sleep over it.
20/107 CLOCKS REDESTROYED. FOR THE FIRST TIME. EVENTUALLY... YOU KNOW WHAT, NEVER MIND.
Ok you think you got one.
Time travel sure can be a...
DOUBLE EDGED SWORD.
Wait, that was awful. Really really bad. You're sure you can do better than that.
Let's see... sorry to... no... time's running... no wait... fuck.
You ask yourself from the past for a little help. Time's... something about time. Time being up. No wait, how about some kind of clock pun. No, dammit, will you just listen. You were almost onto something. Time... time is...
Screw this. Too many cooks in the kitchen.
Oh and just what does this quivering mound of blubber think he is up to?
Just as you hear your past self asking what happened to your eye, you jab Sawbuck with your BUTTERFLY EFFECT KNIFE. You remember a little while ago asking yourself about your eye, and not giving yourself an answer just before disappearing. Maybe if you stopped and thought about it for a second, you could have warned yourself and avoided the whole mess, albeit in the process of creating a paradox. But your strict policy of stabbing first and answering questions later prevented it. You're sure your past self understands/understood. You are sure of this because you very clearly remember understanding/understooding.
You are now Past Spades Slick... again.
You were just about to pull Crowbar's pin. You guess all that stuff with your future self and Sawbuck originally happened in this room while we were all off watching someone else, like Diamonds Droog or something. That makes sense.
Being your future self is a lot more constructive because you get to do stuff you haven't already done.
Looks like you're in the future. It's a bloody mess in here. The clocks are more bullet-riddled than ever. And it seems Crowbar and both Sawbucks have been decapitated. You're almost certain this is something you will be, or were already, responsible for. Which of course means more time traveling.
Looks like the tub and chest are gone. Which means future-you must have packed up and left already. Got to take note of these sorts of things so you know where you are in the timeline.
You notice something on the wall over there...
One of the clocks that wasn't destroyed before is now bloodied and full of holes.
Not especially noteworthy. You just have a feeling you should register this fact.
108/1000 CLOCKS DESTROYED
You pry the CIGARETTE HOLDER from his torso. Whoops, another time jump.
This tub of goo keeps going for his gun. Widebody's gotta settle his big ass down.
You really should incapacitate him without inflicting another wound.
COUNT SOME SHEEP BITCH
Wait... the clock on the wall...
It hasn't been destroyed yet.
But it's about to be. It's ticking down to the time it's stuck on in the future.
Maybe if you time it just right, you can end this whole mess in one fell slice.
You've even got an ice-cold one-liner to dish out when the time comes. You've been working pretty hard on it.
Wait for it... wait for it...
Hate to cut and...
Wait, no. Not yet.
Wait for it...
Hate to... no.
Hate to cut and DAMMIT. Not yet.
Hate to cut and run.
Hate to chop all of your heads off with this sword. Real sorry about that. My bad.
You slay them all with your RAPIER WIT.
9/15 GREEN TORSOS DEAD
2/9 GREEN TORSOS DEADENED TWICE
1/15 GREEN TORSOS DEAD FOR THE FIRST TIME, BUT IT'S AN ALTERNATE UNIVERSE TORSO, SO YOU GUESS MAYBE IT DOESN'T COUNT(?)
7/108 CLOCKS GRATUITOUSLY REDESTROYED
You grab the tub and chest and move on. That is ALTOGETHER ENOUGH of this nonsense.
You check up on Slick's status. Slick says he killed Crowbar again, Sawbuck twice, and Stitch once. You ask him if it was an alternate timeline Stitch. He says he guesses so. You say that doesn't count. You've got the real one here. He mutters some foul language you can't quite make out, but you tell him never mind and hurry down to meet you at the vault.
He says he took some damage from Snowman. You say you know. You're having some EFFIGIES made of yourselves with your BACKUP HATS. Deuce brought Slick's crumpled BACKUP HAT which he wound up with somehow. Not sure what happened to Deuce's. Boxcars is obviously tied up at the moment, so you can't get your hands on his yet.
Slick says he's got both their HATS and he'll be down ASAP. You say alright. He says in the meantime see what you can do about this eye.
Get to work, threadmonkey.
Your sprite was flipped the wrong way.
You get Diamonds on the radio and tell him to undo it and wait until you're turned around. He says it's the right eye, right? Were you facing left or right? You say it's only right when facing left. It's the left eye when facing right. He says oh, so it's the left-right eye. You say yeah, but hang on a minute, you'll turn around so it's right-left. He says ok, he'll wait.
If Cans shows up, none of these weapons you've got are going to do any good.
You admire the LANCE for a moment. It's a pretty sweet weapon with outstanding craftsmanship. At least you got something out of the eye-gouging. She'll have to pry this thing from your rigid severed arm if she wants it back.
You can't BELIEVE she saw you horsing around like that. You will never live this down.
Stitch keeps their EFFIGIES in a big warehouse several miles away because of their ridiculous duplication tendencies.
You're sure as hell not going to drive all the way over there, so you just shoot at them in person.
This was such an unbelievably terrible idea.
The first thing you whack is Eggs's EGG TIMER.
You do this because of course you know that Crowbar's CROWBAR will destroy any temporal artifact and completely negate its effect on the timeline.
Your attempt was an overwhelming success.
Biscuits is looking a tad snug in his muffin tray.
He thinks it's about time to poke a broomstraw in this battle. His dough will live to rise another day.
SEE YOU IN THE FUTURE, SUCKERS!!!!!
You deal the oven a wicked flogging but not much happens.
The oven doesn't really have any magical time properties to be negated. It just travels into the future at a rate of one second per second, like everyone else.
You set the bomb to go off in a few seconds, when both it and Biscuits are released from it in a few hours.
You're pretty sure this oven doesn't actually work at all.
You just wheel it off somewhere else in the mansion so it can explode in peace.
12/15 GREEN TORSOS DEAD
PROBABLY SOME MORE CLOCKS DESTROYED TOO
Since your expert safe cracker apparently spent the last five or six hours being totally useless down here, you figure it's time to take things into your own hands.
Huh? What's this little fella all worked up about?
Clover insists that you reconsider! Using that to pry open the vault would be EVER so much bad luck! Like breaking a thousand mirrors all at once! The sort of mirrors that tick and have numbers and tell time and stuff. That is the worst kind of mirror to break, luckwise.
He refuses outright and starts doing a really frisky jig!
DOO DEE DOO DEE DOO DOO
DOO DEE DOO DEE DOO DOO
He begins spinning a fanciful series of riddles illuminating the true path to opening the vault. Mysterious music fills your ears as your mind assumes the shape of a pretzel.
DOO DEE DOO DEE DOO DOO
DOO DEE DOO DEE DOO DOO
DOO DOO DOO DEE DOO DOO DOO
DOO DEE DOO DEE DOO DOO
This is how the music would sound if we were listening to it right now.
You ask Clover to open the safe.
What's this? Hee hee! You think you can shoot Clover? He is so lucky the gun will probably jam or something predictable like that. Nice try though!
You just start whacking him with a newspaper instead.
You don't have to be all that unlucky to get whacked around with a newspaper. It's sort of a gray area.
This isn't a real newspaper. It's just a wrapper for your private sordid literature, which no one can ever see.
Uh oh, it's slipping out a bit. Your appetite for MONOCHROME BEAUTIES is nearly on public display. Gotta keep a lid on that smut! Especially with Clover around.
Suddenly the whole vault room is shaking. You wonder what it could be.
It sounds suspiciously like Cans is about to plow through the wall Kool-Aid Man style. You pray to God that it is not Cans about to plow through the wall Kool-Aid Man style.
All of a sudden Cans plows through the wall Kool-Aid Man style.
He punches you into next week.
You find yourself going about your business a week later. Looks like you're doing a little grocery shopping.
You're a bit confused, having no memory of the previous week. You have no idea what is on your grocery list. Are you out of milk?? What kind of produce do you need to stock up on??? It is all a little overwhelming.
And to make things worse,
You flail the torso Cans-ward in an attempt to placate him with the red meat.
It doesn't work!!!
Cans clocks Boxcars entirely out of the current calendar year. You land in a totally different outdated calendar.
Looks like this one's themed with SPIRITED HORSES. You'll be up to your ass in horses for a whole year. Just great, this is just what you need to be doing. Farmin' all these goddamn horses. Fuckin' pain in the ass.
You don't care what the consequences are. You're going to crack open this safe and be done with it.
This whole intermission was starting to get a little punchy anyway.
The massive release of temporal distortion from the vault transports you to a highly unfavorable timeline. Looks like the entire mansion was leveled, except for the vault and its enclosure. Everyone's dead except for you and you know who.
But at least the safe's open.
1000/1000 CLOCKS DESTROYED
14/15 GREEN TORSOS DEAD
3/4 BLACK SCOFFLAWS OFFED
There's nothing in here except an opening in the floor. There is a door with a keyhole, and you have a feeling you know how to open it.
You only wonder why English's treasure would be locked behind a door with a spade on it.
You guess this is what the SPADE KEY was for all this time. You dramatically wield the SPADE KEY in a matter of fact manner.
What KEYHOLE? It was clearly a BARCODE SCANNER all along. Like the kind they sweep groceries over at supermarkets. That reminds you, you should really do some shopping next week.
You're not going to peek inside because the lasers could blind you in one eye. OH WAIT
This was never a problem because there is clearly a barcode printed on your RULES CARD FOR BLACKJACK.
As well as your arm. But there's nothing wrong with a little redundancy you guess.
Oh are you looking for this well come and get it you contemptuous she-witch.
Snowman's BLACK INCHES no doubt have been responsible for more than a few RED CHEEKS.
This guy again?
Been a long time.
Land of Wind and Shade Pyxis Put something in? [Y/N] This is great! Something is in there. Take a look. Hooray! This one contains a prize! Another success for the postal system. Open it! Open it!!! How exciting! A parcel for you. Retrieve it! This one's empty. Perhaps a delivery is in order? There is nothing inside. Should we put something in? You got itemNames[pyxis[curPyx]]! itemNames (Insert up here.^) an INEXISTANT ITEM a CRAPPY TEMP ITEM THE CRAPPY TEMP ITEM'S MENTALLY HANDICAPPED BROTHER a BARBASOL BOMB some CANDY CORN PDA GOGGLES a BOX OF GUSHERS a FEDORA a PDA an UNABRIDGED SASSACRE TEXT a SHOE a SHOE a TELESCOPE a BABRER'S BEST FRIEND a WISE GUY BOOK a BRANCH a MUSHROOM a MUSHROOM a ROCK a ROCK a BRANCH a MINITABLET ILLEGAL CONTRABAND a JAR OF BUGS an ELEGANT PIPE a MINITABLET an EXQUISITE PIPE a COG a CHUNK OF AMBER a CHISEL an UNCARVED MINITABLET a CRUXITE DOWEL randTalk (That part where you click on the Consorts and shit.) Greet creature. Approach the indigenous kindly. Converse. Hear what this fellow has to say. Speak. Introduce yourself to local amphibious fauna. Wave hello. Approach amicably. idiotMessages Die. Now. Please. That doesn't even start to make sense. My dick. Suck it. So like, you ate a lot of lead as a child? Okay, I'll get right on that Professor Stoopid. 'You shouldn't drink while you're pregnant.' Tell your mother this. char (The part where you click on John and shit.) It's nice to meet you, John. John isn't directly cognizant of your greeting, but I'm sure he would feel likewise. Ok, John. Let's explore this place! Ok, have at it! If you're at a loss, click the controller button up there. I am told your name is John. Is that correct? Yep. That's right. Salamanders salamander randTalk Look at this! Another Cherished Idol profaned! Such sacrilege has become commonplace with the recent glut of Underlings. It would bring a tear to my eye if I were not so clearly fit to be tied with these hyperactive mannerisms and severe attention deficit oh my god look a bug. salamander2 randTalk The stars are moving? What do you mean? What are these things you call stars? Oh! You mean the Fireflies. They became trapped under the clouds when The Slumbering One cast a spell on them. salamander3 randTalk How did he cast a spell on them when he was asleep? Well, he wasn't ALWAYS asleep, you goofball! When he was awake he was asked by some really terrible guys to commission a whole bunch of Underlings. He then went about befouling our land with all this sludge, clogging up all our beautiful Pipes, and now it can barely breathe. He was sort of a huge dick. Once he tuckered himself out with all that I guess he decided to take a nap. salamander4 randTalk The terrible guys? They are a bunch of mean fellows who like to push people around. They are called Agents. They aren't usually a problem but they sure did put a spring in their step when the Heir showed up. Whoever that is. If I ever meet him I wouldn't mind punching him in the snout to... well, to accomplish some purpose I suppose. I don't know. What were we talking about? salamander5 randTalk Yes, the spell! The spell I'm sure you've heard from a reliable source cannot be broken unless The Slumbering One is first woken up, and then slain. Then the Breeze will again flow through the Pipes and the Fireflies will be released and allowed to go home. But I do not envy the adventurers who will presumably take on this responsibility! salamander6 randTalk The Pipes are sacred to us for reasons you probably consider primitive and stupid. In fact, they probably are primitive and stupid, objectively speaking. But I am ok with that. salamander7 randTalk As the Consorts of this Land we are predictably persecuted by dark forces, and require a hero for our salvation. Alas there is no hero in sight. Wait a minute it is you. You are the hero aren't you. Of course you are. I was so foolish to speculate otherwise through dubiously solicited monologue! DUHHHHHH! salamander8 randTalk Farmin' these goddamn mushrooms. Fuckin' pain in the ass. salamander9 randTalk GLUB GLUB GLUB GLUB.・ salamander10 randTalk Not long ago all these Underlings started creeping out of the pipework, and they have been a nuisance to say the least. But just a few moments ago they began spilling from the Land in greater supply, wearing more flamboyantly preposterous outfits than ever. Why you ask? On account of a series of mysterious and arcane wytchkraft-majyspelles. Ha ha just kidding. I have no idea. salamander11 randTalk This thing right here? You have never seen a Parcel Pyxis? Incomprehensible! Ok I'll play your pretend game for a minute. It is a receptacle connected to our network of Pipes. We use them to send stuff to different places. They are fully intertwined with our customs and social practices. If there is something we want, we chisel it on a Minitablet and drop it in. Who receives it? Hard to say! But if you encounter... ...a Minitablet and you possess what is chiseled on it, it is considered only polite to drop it in the Pyxis! Similarly, if you encounter a Parcel Pyxis that has a prize in it already, you are obligated to keep the prize for yourself! Consider it to be a gift to you from the Breeze. This is just the way things work... Whenever one of us is standing near one of these, we feel compelled to give this little speech about it. salamander12 randTalk GLUB GLUB! Sure is windy here! Often, wind skims the voids of the Pipes, as if grazing the hollow of a cut reed, or say, a plundered Parcel Pyxis. It is a lovely sound and brings back fond memories of my childhood. Which was a couple days ago. salamander13 randTalk Hey, nice suit, champ. I will buy it from you for 1 Boondollar. Sell suit for 1 Boondollar? Y/N I should have known only a shrewd business man would wear such a garment. I have been chagrinned in ways I never imagined possible. salamander14 randTalk Wanna buy this? It fell from Skaia. I guarantee it. Buy harlequin figurine? Y/N Ok that will be 5,000,000 Boondollars. Oh what you don't have that much? Ha ha ha of course not no one does! It's impossible. Fine I'll just be over here sitting pretty with this choice clown thing or whatever it is. And you will be there wallowing in pitiable destitution. salamander15 randTalk This thing right here? You have never seen a Parcel Pyxis? Incomprehensible! Ok I'll play your pretend game for a minute. It is a receptacle connected to our network of Pipes. We use them to send stuff to different places. They are fully intertwined with our customs and social practices. If there is something we want, we chisel it on a Minitablet and drop it in. Who receives it? Hard to say! But if you encounter... ...a Minitablet and you possess what is chiseled on it, it is considered only polite to drop it in the Pyxis! Similarly, if you encounter a Parcel Pyxis that has a prize in it already, you are obligated to keep the prize for yourself! Consider it to be a gift to you from the Breeze. This is just the way things work... ...Whenever one of us is standing near one of these, we feel compelled to give this little speech about it. salamander16 randTalk I have renamed myself Crumplehat. I have dishonored my ancestors beyond comprehension with this frivolous accessory. salamander17 randTalk I am a secret wizard. Behold my robes. Behold Robes? Y/N You wonder what the hell a secret wizard is. This guy is making you a little nervous. You don't think you'll ask him for your bedsheet back. salamander18 randTalk I am freaking out here. Do you know what this is??? It is a huge log of Cruxite. More than I have ever seen. It is the most precious material in existence. Why if I had access to a means of producing an unlimited supply, I would be the richest salamander in the Land. Just kidding. It's completely worthless. Here, you want it? It's free. salamander19 randTalk GLUB!!! That's my way of saying go over there and check it out. 'GLUB' can basically mean anything I want it to mean. It's really cool having a bullshit language. salamanderExtra randTalk That weird white boxy thing appeared up there a little while ago. Then it gradually became even boxier, and also taller. They say that's where the Heir lives. Who's they? Wise folk I guess. Maybe elders or something like that. Man I don't know. Also, isn't it funny how I'm sort of taking your existence here in stride? I'm treating it like it's no big deal. Thingies teleBubble A good place to keep lookout? Maybe you should try using your TELESCOPE here. statueHead This was sacred and precious. It is very sad to look at now. Looks like the imps made short work of it. Or judging by the damage to the stone, probably something bigger. Man these guys must really hate frogs. statueBase This was sacred and precious. It is very sad to look at now. Looks like the imps made short work of it. Or judging by the damage to the stone, probably something bigger. Man these guys must really hate frogs. kingPipe Peer into large opening? You think you can make out a very faint noise below. Is it... snoring? sassacrusher What in blue blazes is this absurd looking thing? You have deactivated your GHOST GAUNTLETS for the time being. It gets pretty distracting flailing them around all the time when all you're trying to do is explore. nannaChats John, hello! Can you hear me? yeah, nanna. where are you? I am still in the house, dear! I'm afraid I cannot accompany you on your journey. But I can talk to you like this, if you ever need me to provide a puzzling half-answer to one of your questions! oh, ok. thanks, nanna. You should begin exploring and talking to locals! They will be able to provide you with some new insight into your quest, and may illuminate some matters on which I have remained coy to this point! HOO HOO! yeah, what's up with that, nanna? did the game make you all coy and prankstery when you became a sprite or were you always like that when you were alive? Oh, wouldn't YOU like to know, dear! HOO HOO HOO HOO HOO! ha ha ha... ok. John, their economy of anonymous, intraglobal pipe-based bartering may seem quaint, but you'd do well to get accustomed to it! The true Heir must learn the ways of the peoples of the Land to progress through the Gates! wait... so i'm the heir? Didn't I tell you, John? no!!! HOO HOO HOO HOO HOO! HOO! HOO HOO. nanna, are you there? Yes! i just saw my house from below. what gives? why did the gate take me down here? All the gates do, John. To ascend, each time you must first descend! huh. alright. so i guess i scramble around down here until... uh, until what? Until you find the next gate. It is hidden somewhere in the Land. ok, so i get to that gate and go in. then what? where does it take me? uh... further up maybe? but i haven't even built that high yet. So you see why you had to build in the first place, John? You must have a little faith in your dear old nanna! yeah, well, i do nanna but i'm still not really getting it. does the next gate down here take me back up to the house or something? please don't say hoo hoo hoo HOO. HOO HOO. nanna, there are more imps than ever down here, and they seem to be getting stronger. Yes, dear. There are plenty of imps up here too. I had to start giving them some cookies because I baked too many. I hope you don't mind! no that's ok. also they look different. That is because a new prototyping has taken place. huh? Your pretty young friend has joined you in the Medium! whoa, wait, rose is here? where is she? will i find her down here somewhere??? oh, settle down, all of you. there are more than enough cookies to go around. nanna! dammit, will you stop messing around with those stupid imps for a second! nanna? sigh... what's up with this thing? Amphibious and reptilian life forms play a special role in your quest, John. what kind of role? like frogs and stuff? ESPECIALLY frogs, John. ????? Misc YO MAN THIS SURE IS A DOPE VIEW. John, this will lead you to new frontiers in this Land. Are you sure you are done with this place and ready to move on? There may have been some things you missed! Exit? Y/N Restart? Y/N Use ARROW KEYS (or WASD KEYS) to walk. SPACEBAR to attack. Hold SHIFT while attacking for dual-wielding.HOLD SPACEBAR to charge mangrit.Press Z to expend boypluck. Press X to open sylladex, ARROW KEYS to navigate, SPACEBAR to select. Drawin' and writin' and stuff by Andrew. (DUH) Programming by Alexis Beingessner. (damn he is good) Additional art assets by Cindy. (hooray!) Music: \Doctor\ written by George Buzinkai, remixed by Michael Vallejo and Clark Powell. (round of applause)
Collateral desecration mars the sacred/illicit.
An ancient TIME CAPSULE has blossomed. You find nested in its petals a juice-stained SBURB BETA once belonging to one of your friends.
What will you do?
You captchalogue the SBURB BETA. It uneventfully tucks itself into your sylladex.
You think you're getting kind of bored with this fetch modus. You like to mix it up now and then.
Maybe you'll peruse your selection and try out another one.
You swap your modus to JENGA, ejecting your sylladex in the process.
Looks like the TIME CAPSULE has reset itself. It is sprouting a new bud. Presumably something else will come out when it blooms again in about 400 years.
Too bad you won't be around to find out what it is!
Your modus grabs the 18 cards needed to set itself up. It divides each card into three CAPTCHALOGUE BLOCKS.
You begin picking up your items. The item is captchalogued, chopped into three blocks, and distributed randomly into the block tower.
You gather up the rest of your items. Might as well try it out!
You go for all the blocks containing your TANGLE BUDDIES.
Yeah, that one's obviously not going to work.
You switch to PICTIONARY, a choice based on a strong whim from the mysterious ethers of democracy.
Ok, you start by trying to grab your LUNCHTOP.
After you ditch an unwelcome solicitor first, that is.
You've got to concentrate here!
You draw a really nice looking Squiddle lunchbox on the CAPTCHALOGUE SCRIBBLEPAD.
The modus recognizes what you were trying to draw and snaps it right up. Nice going!
Look at these fabulous beta envelopes you just drew!
Your sylladex thinks they are fabulous too!
You do a very quick doodle of nothing in particular.
The SCRIBBLEPAD appears to be processing the shapes.
Is that Charles Dutton?
Since you do not actually have a DUTTON PHOTO lying around, the pad captchalogues a DUTTON PHOTO GHOST IMAGE. It is not a tangible item, and can never be used ever. It seems to be more of an imprint on the card itself, like a watermark.
However, the back of the card does seem to contain a viable CAPTCHA CODE for a real DUTTON PHOTO, for whatever it's worth.
Which is very little.
You sketch a beautiful, succulent PUMPKIN, knowing perfectly well that a PUMPKIN GHOST IMAGE will be captchalogued, because you are quite sure there is not a PUMPKIN in this room, and there surely never will be.
You captchalogue a PUMPKIN GHOST IMAGE.
At least you have the CAPTCHA CODE for it on the back in case you ever want to replicate a real one.
You start by drawing your TANGLE BUDDIES.
But... it looks like it's having trouble understanding the shapes?
Darn! You wanted those!
It's not up to you to say what card it goes on! The modus decides! All you get to do is draw.
Anyway you try sketching your ECLECTIC BASS. It's kind of hard to draw accurately.
No, that's just a ghost image of an ordinary bass. That's not right.
You try again, focusing on getting all the mechanical details just right.
OH NO BUSTED.
The jig is up.
You are returned to your bedroom without the rest of your loot. You doubt you'll have time to go back and get it. You guess you have inadvertently left your own time capsule there for whatever party may find it in the future. Lucky bastards!
You get started installing both discs. Might as well get a jump on it to avoid the sort of future drama that results from poor time management decisions.
In the meantime you decide to touch base with your pals.
Ugh, no, not those pals. The TROLLSLUM can just sit tight for now.
It's going to be a hike.
There's something up ahead through the forest.
You settle the dispute in the only way you can presently imagine how to settle a dispute. With cans of lukewarm sugary liquid and centuries-old rations.
If only you had access to some means of heating things up.
But it matters not. You warm yourselves in the glow of this human emotion called friendship.
It's almost as if this broken AIR CONDITIONING UNIT was scaled to be a perfect fit for the ALCHEMITER all along.
This whole place is a disorganized mess. It kind of reminds you of your room but full of weird and ironic stuff instead of cute and great stuff. Your stuff is so much better.
You're pretty sure these are all Dave's BRO'S puppets. You better not mess with them. Frankly his brother makes you a little nervous.
What the apartment needs is a woman's touch. You grab a TOWEL you found lying around and dampen it with water from the toilet. This is how ordinary people clean ordinary houses, right?
Oops, you dropped it.
Blech. Too warm. Need to find something to chill this down with.
Something to heat up your delicious GRAVY would be nice too.
You excuse yourself for a moment and retrieve a few of your personal belongings. These should really impress your visitors.
That musty old toy on the floor ought to make a nice peace offering for the feisty tall one too. You are quite certain that ladies like squishy useless things like that.
The yellow bandaged fellow seems to have slogged off somewhere. But the tall mail carrier with the lovely white complexion would probably get a kick out of your big computer with the weird boy on it.
You show her inside.
The hole blown into the the station by the caution guy's rocket leads into the third room, which had been locked.
Unsurprisingly there is another sort of gizmo in here and you have no idea what it does.
The station is very low on power so you don't think you'll be able to find out.
You unlock the third room from the inside, and go to the computer room.
There he is! The funny boy you were talking about. His name is John.
You encourage your alabaster friend so say hi to him using the human keypad communication system.
But instead she takes note of your nice chalk drawings and pays you a compliment.
You are somewhat mystified by the fact that she is be more impressed by your silly drawings than your amazing technology.
Maybe simple things are the key to the heart of a lady. You do not know because you do not know anything about ladies really. They are a riddle draped in a mystery wrapped in post-apocalyptic shroudwear.
You decide to give her the chalk. She is grateful for the colorful present and thinks it looks like fun.
Suddenly a powerful aroma hits your nonexistent nostrils. Someone is cooking something delicious. It demands investigation.
You stop and examine the kind mayor's device. It is quite similar to the one in your station, before the unfortunate accident. The one with the familiar looking girl on it. Perhaps this one is best left alone.
Still, there is something familiar about the boy on this monitor too.
Yep. That's right.
John isn't directly cognizant of your greeting, but I'm sure he would feel likewise.
Ok, have at it! If you're at a loss, click the controller button up there.
This may or may not mean anything to you depending on your current perspective.
You got a MINITABLET!
You drop in one of your precious SHOES. You hate to see it go, but you have to follow the custom and give it what the tablet asks for.
Same with this one you guess. At least this HAT didn't technically belong to your DAD. You made it yourself.
"I am a secret wizard. Behold my robes."
You wonder what the hell a secret wizard is. You don't think you'll ask him for your bedsheet back.
You got an UNCARVED MINITABLET!
You got a CHISEL.
You got a CHUNK OF...
Why am I repeating myself?
He has renamed himself Crumplehat. He has dishonored his ancestors beyond comprehension with this frivolous accessory.
Apparently she can.
Though usually she goes by Rose.
You begin to hatch a brilliant plan.
Once you're done you'll captchalogue the bottle and send the code to Egbert and tell him it's something really important. Then he'll make it and be like, oh man yes apple juice I am so thirsty!!!
But he will not be drinking delicious juice, oh no. He will be choking down a world of hot piss and it will serve him right for liking all those dumbass movies unironically.
But that all sounds like a big waste of time so you just go in the shower.
You are vaguely reminded of something. It's hard to remember. It was so many years ago.
What have we here? An illegally parked vehicle.
You sure hope this guy's got a swollen porkhollow. He just landed himself in citation city.
This looks much more orderly. Public safety has been assured. Your sworn duty as an AUTHORITY REGULATOR has been upheld.
Hello. What have we here?
You discover a couple of UNAUTHORIZED PARCELS in the cabin of the vehicle. You confiscate them immediately.
You are a simple PARCEL MISTRESS on one of your routes. Today is another day of uneventful but highly satisfying deliveries.
You stop in your tracks. It is a dangerous AGENT from the enemy kingdom. Perhaps you should avoid him.
But you notice he is holding two parcels. You recognize one of them. You have spent a long time looking for it.
It looks like you are going to need to get that package from him somehow.
Sons of bitches are harder to kill than you thought they'd be.
The giclops absconds.
You could have sworn that strange man was holding your copy of Colonel Sassacre's.
It is a clear and peaceful night. A delicious meal has been shared with new friends. The glow of the ammunition fire gradually subsides. All is well.
But you can't shake the feeling there is something familiar about all this. There is something you are forgetting.
Of course. Now you remember.
You must deliver a message to John right away.
You conclude you have no choice. You will march right up to him and ask politely for the package.
Wait a minute...
It is a carved MINITABLET.
The carving is not especially clear to say the least. But your wealth of delivery experience allows you to decipher it immediately.
It is the other parcel the agent is holding. It appears you will need to acquire both from him now. It is your sworn duty.
You do not have a sword. You are quite sure it would never occur to you to carry a sword or resort to violence under any circumstance.
You will have to take a more diplomatic route with this fellow.
You doff so furiously you are in danger of starting a HAT FIRE.
Probably not the best idea around all this oil. Especially without any sort of flame suppressant handy.
He cannot give them to you. They are ILLEGAL CONTRABAND, and if you wish to petition for their release, you must consult with his superiors.
You show him the carved MINITABLET. As he can plainly see, you have signed authorization to deliver one of the parcels.
He gives you the ENVELOPE. But he retains the PACKAGE.
You quickly drop the ENVELOPE into an empty PYXIS. It is out of your hands now. THE BREEZE will know where to take it.
You follow the agent. You must not lose track of that parcel.
You have some questions for that guy, whoever he is.
But the village is still burning. You've got to help these salamanders put out this fire.
Ok you JUST SAID they were salamanders.
Anyway, thank goodness for your BARBASOL BOMB. The cooling lather should work its magic in no time...
OH GOD HOW CAN SHAVING CREAM BE SO FLAMMABLE
A big gust of wind conveniently comes along and blows out all the fire.
It is really convenient.
The townspeople rejoice and are more than willing to give you all the credit. You suspect it is probably because they are not all that smart.
Why yes, it appears you do.
You seem amenable to this request. It's a little wobbly up on top of all these dancing lizards though.
Not that it matters because you suck at drawing anyway.
JASPERSPRITE is nowhere to be found. He always was a little cagey, even when he was alive.
Someone is pestering you. But you are oblivious to the message because your laptop is buried under three inches of fucking yarn.
There are footprints in the white sand.
It looks like they lead out back to the mausoleum.
The mausoleum was destroyed by the explosion. The secret passage remains.
You have no idea where it leads, but it sure isn't the lab anymore.
It seems someone has recently untied a boat.
You build a bigger and better town to preside over. All expatriates are welcome, no matter what happened in the past, regardless of professional persuasion or metallurgical affiliation. You cut the town's ribbon with an official JUDICIAL BAYONET, which is stuck inside a grenade but you are kind of nervous about removing it.
This should catch the eye of the tall nice lady.
The grumpy yellow guy thinks this is dumb.
He thinks it is dumb because any town without a proper militia is as good as conquered.
As such he prepares one begrudgingly. It's a dirty job, but someone must be charged with the defense of the innocent.
The stars twinkle over the freshly christened EXILE TOWN. It is a beautiful evening and the future is so full of promise you can't imagine what could possibly oh my god a huge eggy looking thing just appeared in the sky.
Ok, you do that and then he makes a totem with it and then some other stuff happens and then...
Whoops, looks like that dumb idea isn't going to happen!
A brainless feathery asshole swoops down and carries the egg away.
You can't! You'll need some SHALE for that.
You take the BETA and the CD.
It was obviously labeled as the JUMPER BLOCK EXTENSION.
It appears to be deployable only as an extension to the ALCHEMITER. Looks like you're going to have to move it.
Damn, and it looked so nice up there!
You expend another relatively affordable 100 BUILD GRIST to relocate it.
You then pay the steep fee of 1000 BUILD GRIST to deploy the JUMPER BLOCK EXTENSION.
Again, the name of the thing was right there in plain sight.
You deploy the PUNCH CARD SHUNT for peanuts.
Looks like a captchalogue card is supposed to fit in the slot.
You put the card in the slot and stick the shunt on the jumper pins.
Nothing happens. You might need to stick a punched card in there, probably allowing the holes in the card to affect the flow of current through the circuits. And to punch cards you'll need to get a designix somehow.
GRISTTORRENT is now running.
You start leeching off John's SHALE at a pace of 4 g/s.
Not the fastest download rate, but then again you don't need a whole lot. In one second you already collect enough for a PUNCH DESIGNIX.
You set the application to leech off John's BUILD GRIST because he's obviously got too much for his own good.
It cuts the download rate in half though.