Avatar of Hylozoist
  • Last Seen: 4 mos ago
  • Joined: 8 yrs ago
  • Posts: 515 (0.17 / day)
  • VMs: 2
  • Username history
    1. Hylozoist 8 yrs ago
  • Latest 10 profile visitors:

Status

Recent Statuses

4 mos ago
Current I remember when I used to be into nostalgia.
1 like
8 yrs ago
The sun is shining, the birds are singing, there's a few white fluffy clouds in the sky. I am closing the curtains and going back to bed.
2 likes
8 yrs ago
"What kind of solicitor doesn't have sweets on their desk?!"
1 like
8 yrs ago
"His multiphasic torpedo will penetrate your rift / and cause a quantum singularity in your transwarp conduit!"
8 yrs ago
"You make a pretty good sheep."

Bio

I live somewhere in the wilds of East London with a couple of friends, a pet rat and a collection of RPG books that is slowly consuming our house. I've suggested possibly getting rid of some of them, but it's pretty much got to the point where the books are the only thing keeping the building upright and if I move any of them the whole thing could come crashing down.

In terms of games - well, I'll consider anything, except that. As can probably be gathered from my posts, I find myself generally playing characters that let me bit a little bit light-hearted. I am reasonably certain that I can play serious characters, but I know that getting to post things which makes me chuckle as I write them keeps me far more engaged. I like fandom-y things (because I can't, apparently, still get enough Undertale, Adventure Time and various Nintendo stuff, good job brain), and non-fandom-y things, and will one day get around to rebooting a RP I'd made on here seven years ago.

Most Recent Posts

Whether by accident or design, it turned out to be a remarkably efficient strategy for dealing with Guerlaghiix the Fry Snatcher. Observers from the Jolly Junta in booth twelve nodded appreciatively, enjoying their recently served meal and the (admittedly rather condensed) display of how diplomacy serves as a prelude to war. The Will had begun with diplomatic overtures, presenting their viewpoint in a way that didn't make them seem weak. Some of the Junta were taking notes, scribbling frantically on their paper napkins while keeping their eyes on the Battle At Booth Seven.

Then came the rearmament stage of the war. Vanessa made it clear through her actions that Booth Seven was more than capable of defending itself, and that the military might of Booth Seven could very quickly be brought to bear. Then, the distraction - a last minute play at appeasement that would lower the defences of this invader. The faux-leather jacket would surely initially appeal to their sense of pride, until such a time that they'd recognise the insult of using such an infantile thing, a child's rattle, on the design. Finally, there came the hammer wrench blow, the swift, decisive action that exploited their lowered guard. The war would be over in a single stroke. In it's own way, the Battle At Booth Seven bore similarities to the campaigns waged by the greatest warmongers the galaxy had ever known. Certainly, the government-in-exile of the Jolly Junta were appreciative of it, and those that weren't busily engaged in writing down their thoughts on how it served as a microcosm of their first coup were on their seats, whooping, yelling and punching the air.

Guerlaghiix was not a military historian and so could not appreciate any of this. He did have a qualification from Pericles University Of Culinary Acceptability, and his final project on anti-gravity quiche was the talk of the campus for months, but the military applications of such a dish were never taken seriously. From his perspective, it was something of a blur, culminating in a fairly serious blow from a slightly less serious looking man. As he slowly crumpled to the floor, eyeball swivelling about in his head, he gave out a strained, and quite possibly final, order to his gang.

"Avenge... me... boys..."

The Flaughjinks stood up, as one, bumping their heads against the ceiling. None of them seemed particularly keen to do much in the way of avenging, especially as an ice pack, a trip to a back-alley DocBot and a few days of rest would probably see Guerlaghiix back on his feet. After a brief whispered conversation between the Flaughjinks, one of them was shoved out and sent stumbling towards the quietly snoring Guerlaghiix and the occupants of Booth Seven. This one had two eyes with which to look apologetic, and with his hands in the air, he gave Guerlaghiix a gentle poke with his foot.

"You okay, boss?"

The boss grunted quietly.

"You want us to, uh, smoke these fools," it was clear from his expression and the tone of his voice that his heart was really not into it, and it was only because his boss was almost entirely unresponsive that he would dare ask this question. Guerlaghiix grunted again before slipping into blessed unconsciousness. With some face saved for the time being, the Bravest Of The Flaughjinks started on trying to lift Guerlaghiix to his feet. Considering the size, spindly shape and general awkwardness of their species, it wasn't easy.
First up, I'm really sorry that we've lost you @Hank - things have been a bit hectic posting wise, and my post about not wanting folks to get left behind was a few days too late. It just goes to show that there's quite a lot to running a game, and it was remiss of me not to think about that sort of thing earlier (especially as I had to drop out of a game recently due to the speed at which it was going!).

On the "Meanwhile!" suggestion, consider it open. I'm not sure where to put them; it might end up cluttering the IC a little too much, it'd probably get lost in the OOC section. For now, the IC will probably be the best place for them, and I'll make a post in the Characters tab that links to them, and that'll hopefully keep them organised. In order to keep it clear what's what, if you're going to post a "Meanwhile!", put it in it's own post, and behind a hider labelled "Meanwhile!".

Anything you write in these may end up getting used at a later date in the game. Fair warning!

Finally, I shall try and get an IC post up later on today. There's quite a lot to consider here. Diplomacy, pulling out weapons, pointed eating and attack wrenches. Goodness.
Hope we get a few more people for this. I'm rather eager to start.


Should we resort to kidnapping people from other threads? I'm only asking because I care!
Ooooh, conflict. I wonder how this will resolve. Good luck everyone.


It's fine, The Will is going to use diplomacy, so there'll be no trouble whatso-

What even is a Flowjink?
The Will


Ah.

Well, I'd like to keep this scene moving along at a fair old pace, and so will be aiming for a post at around the same time (11am-ish GMT) for the rest of this week at least, providing other folks are posting too. I don't want to leave people behind if I can help it in terms of posting though - if you're struggling to keep up, let me know. Obvious options include asking people to post once a day or so, or maybe come up with some kind of posting order, or maybe sort of split people into two groups for a posting order, or something a bit wackier still. After writing the "Meanwhile!" section, I realised that this could be a way of building the world galaxy - so why not let all of us lot write things like this? It could let those of us who love to post multiple times a day do so without having to worry about moving the action along at a pace that is hard for others to follow.
Then he beats the Mugen Virus with his fists and his new found self worth, gets all the ladies (and Quina Quen), Mario change their last name name to the Luigi and finally Luigi rides of into the sunset on the back of the sun goddess while everyone else rides Mudsdale. the end, the song 'we are number one but every 'we are number one' is replaced with https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xhZ6zKuZFY0' plays over the credits.


10/10 - IGN.
Okay, two double posts here, which I'm fairly sure is a breach of some rule or other. The Meanwhile! post is safe to ignore if you want, it was just a way of explaining a thing (who paid for the meal) and sort of introducing a character that may end up featuring in the game later on (based on the discussions from the Interest Check thread).

Sorry it's taken me a while to get this post up, busy weekend and feeling the after-effects of the aforementioned busy weekend this morning. Normal service, or something passing for normal service, should be resumed over the rest of the day.
Save for the speedy work done by Vanessa, very little food was coming out from behind the counter, and some of the other customers were beginning to voice their disdain by politely asking the beleaguered waiter-bots about their food, or loudly commenting about the terrible review they were giving the place on SpaceBook or, in the case of the government-in-exile of the Jolly Junta sat in booth twelve, declaring that they'll annex the whole system if they don't get their ribs soon. These were, of course, idle threats. The military might of the Jolly Junta was eclipsed by the vehicles sitting outside the restaurant, and the number of customers trying to access SpaceBook gummied up the local network.

Guerlaghiix And The Flaughjinks were not too pleased about the lack of service either and, seeing Booth Seven get their food was like waving a red flag to a Henderson's Mega Bull. Dangerous, but also kind of amusing, owing to the lack of coordination endemic to that breed. Guerlaghiix rose from his seat, and kept on rising. He was tall, and spindly with it, as if some cruel genetic engineer had gone out of their way to create the gangliest looking pan-humanoid possible as part of a dare. It had many of the features an alien spotter would associate with a pan-humanoid; two arms, two legs, a slight pot belly to the stomach region and a face that played host to various sensory features. Guerlaghiix had two holes for where eyes ought to go, but only one eye to share between them, as the other was covered up with an oily rag that served, just about, as an eyepatch. His singular eye did, however, allow him to condense two eyes worth of malice and downright grumpiness into one. He was skinny, lacking in muscles and completely unarmed, but he did have a cool leather jacket with a patch on the back that read "Guerlaghiix & The Flowjinks", and that sort of apparel tended to inspire a misplaced confidence in the best, and worst, of people.

"What's this? Queue jumpers, eh," his voice was difficult to hear, on account of how his head was brushing against the high ceiling and, spotting the newsletter, he snorted, sending a fine cloud of mucus and snot into the air above the crew, "and Space Friends too! What're a bunch of..."

Guerlaghiix tried to think of an appropriate insult, but it was quite obvious that no single catchy word could be used to encompass the diverse members of the Quest For Flavour, and it had him momentarily stumped. Impulse control and forward planning were two traits bred out of their species at an early point. This was in part because they were indeed created as something of a joke, a point which made the species even more antagonistic and just a little bit more ridiculous.

"...friends up to? Take my advice, whatever it is, don't bother, me and the boys have it all under control. Since we're all such friends," the manner in which he spat the word out suggested that he didn't exactly consider them friends, or it could simply be an unfortunate speech impediment, it was hard to be certain, "how about I take some of them fries?"

One long arm reached down to take a bowl of sweet potato fries. Guerlaghiix's six long fingers wriggled in anticipation. The restaurant held it's breath, before a technician out back began to beat the air circulatory system with a hammer, cursing the day the manager installed the Dramatic Tension module into the AI that maintained the life support systems.
Quina Quen
Level: 1
Day/Time: Day 1
Location: Kingdom of Erion, Raganival Forest
Interactions: @Argetlam350 (Crash)
Mentions: @Holy Soldier (General and Mario), @Lugubrious (Slayer)
Word Count: 324


Even with Quina's very limited understanding of cause and effect, he (or she) had expected there to be some sort of retaliation from the giant man that was barking orders. Once the General seemed to let the whole event slide without punching Mario back, or even saying a word about it, Quina relaxed a little and went back to looking over the food she (or he) had brought along from the castle. The meringue and the crushed banana could surely be salvaged into a passable dessert, the cheese and bread would serve as a-

Then Quina heard Crash's orders, relayed to the team by the mask with feathers arrayed along the top of it. Hurriedly, Quina stuffed her (or his) mouth with all the food that would have otherwise gone into some kind of wretched culinary concoction had Crash given the order to set up camp. There would, Quina considered briefly, be more opportunities to eat. Forests and castles and the like always had things to eat. Watching the Grey Man - the Slayer - begin his march into the unknown, Quina gave a glance over to Crash, trying to work out who to follow. Didn't the Grey Man say something about departing together? Something about lingering unnecessarily?

"Quina stick with Orange and Mask, right? Like bodyguard! Keep Orange and Mask safe until we get to Oswald," Quina began, sidling up such that he (or she) stood adjacent to Crash, with one hand firmly gripped around the massive fork that the Qu preferred to use as a weapon, "then we bop the Oswald. Do not worry Little Orange. Quina help."

Quina attempted to give Crash a reassuring smile. It was not particularly reassuring. Tactics and strategic thinking weren't exactly Quina's strong points, but keeping the Team Leader safe and his morale high felt like the right thing to do for the time being.

"Wonder what an Oswald look like. Wonder what an Oswald taste like too."
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