deadpixel101

ᴘʀᴏᴊᴇᴄᴛ: _ɢᴇɴᴇsɪs

Here comes a new challenger

Andre

Full Name:
Andre B. Wolfe

Age:
18

Sex:
Male

---

Appearance:
Standing at 5'8 with pale skin, a lithe build, and a heart shaped face, Andre is not an intimidating form. He has broad shoulders and slender fingers, with his legs seeming to take a noticeably larger space then his torso. His eyes are almond shaped with heavy lids, and bags etched underneath. They are a warm brown color, with long lashes. His nose is narrow and just a little longer then he'd like. His brows are well kept looking, although that is due to good genes, and not effort. His cheek bones are defined while his ears are small and out of the way. His hair is black and wavy coming down in a mess to near his earlobes. His lips are thin and seemingly always down turned ever so slightly at the ends.

Personality:
Nihilistic, sarcastic, sassy, pacifistic, indecisive, obsequious.

Biographical Information:
Andre lived a somewhat secluded life. He had a part time job working at his mothers greenhouse, and he went to school. He was content with his life, and enjoyed his family, and his few close friends. He took to solitary hobbies like video-games, drawing and writing. He was also a big movie fan, and would go to the theater often. There is not much to say about his life near the point of the incident leading him to this facility. Of course there is a darker chapter in his younger years. At the age of 12 he was a much more sociable and outgoing child. He had one very good friend who he had grown up beside in his old neighborhood. These two would play make-believe games of superheroes, secret agents and hard-boiled detectives. Often this would mean one would have to find the other, or seek something such as a "clue" they hid. As they got better at this, they got more daring as well. Hiding themselves or these objects in increasingly higher risk places. One such place was a construction site.

Sneaking under the rusted fence, the two were playing on what was going to be a long arch bridge. Hiding a clue on a tree hanging over the rushing stream, he sent her to go looking for it. Pretty quickly it was found, climbed towards and taken. Then a gust of wind hit, and she slipped. Taking a nasty tumble down past a barricade, she was caught in the water fast. It took Andre a moment too many to get over his fear and jump in after her. She didn't make it, and in fact, he was lucky to be found before he had hit the falls as well. The current had knocked his head against the bottom of the stream, and he got caught on a rock. Since then he became more of a shut in, and less of a people person.

---

Ability:
Shadow Puppet:
Able to generate a three-dimensional copy of his own body made seemingly of "shadow". It can appear as it's own separate entity up to a certain area around Andre, though the farther it goes the more mental strain it puts on him. Because of this he usually doesn't have it "summoned". It is apparent that it can be manifested and dispersed with his will. Andre is also able to generate parts of this "puppet" instead of the entity as a whole. As this being has a stronger constitution and general higher strength, Andre often summons it's arms to aid him in things. As this being is not actually alive, it takes no risk in dangerous situations. Beyond the fact that it has a limited distance, it is usable for things such as exploration, working in harsh conditions/environments, and general dangerous bodily situation. It cannot speak in any way, and is susceptible to high-frequency noises. Summoning it takes up to 2 seconds as a whole body, though single limbs like arms, can appear nigh instantaneously. Dismissing it takes a similar span of time. What Andre sees the puppet sees, and vice versa. He can have only one whole puppet out at a time, but the "mass" of the total can be summoned in other forms. The common use being multiple arms. These beings are solid, and thus can be damaged or destroyed, though they look like condensed shapes of a blackish/purple haze. They cannot smell or seem to feel, though do have some slight personality. Their shape perfectly mimics Andre, clothes and all.

Strengths, Skills, Weaknesses:
A bit of an artist, they enjoy both drawing and creative writing. Has experience with climbing and squeezing into odd spaces (useful for hiding). While he isn't very strong he can run decently fast, and better yet, run at a normal pace for an extended amount of time. He is a mediocre pick-lock, and is a surprisingly great dancer. He has a bad past with swimming, and has thus garnered a level of fear for it. While he can deal with heights and tight spaces, large crowds cause him to panic. He tends to hyper-fixate on things, which will cause him to starve himself, and altogether neglect general self care. He isn't very tidy, and usually needs a push in the right direction to get things done.

Wrath of Darkness

As the stories came back around to Spook herself, she got much more....creative in how she told the story. And an impressive story it was. Fighting anything the wild world up close was sort of crazy. Not that Rig could really call anyone out for it, he did carry around a pile-bunker. He watched Spook as she got more energetic and theatrical, until she finished her story and settled back into her seat, seeming a little more sheepish then he expected. As she went back to poking the fire he started applauding her, making sure to wear a genuine smile to show he wasn't poking fun at her. "You act pretty cute for a total raw badass." He laughed lightheartedly. She could destroy him in three seconds, and knowing that she was on his side made him feel safer. Honestly though that was true for pretty much everyone here. Hearing their stories only fueled that idea. The fact that even their less combative members had taken down dangerous creatures out here boded well for the survival of the team.

Rig was too distracted by storytelling to properly acknowledge Isis before she and Bastet took off again. While it felt really rude, it might have been a blessing in disguise. Having to sit next to that hell-cat might have ruined his current good mood. Some time passed and food was put to cook, then the two hunters returned. Naturally they were offered the first share of food. Rig would never argue something like that. As she sat a bit off of Rig to eat he noticed how different it was to see her so human. Her usual attire mixed with the wild-person/pack hunter lent her a different air then she had now. Maybe that added to why he felt a little...off-put by her?

As he looked over to Bastet, he inched a bit farther away. No. It was the big fucking monster. Definitely monster.

"How's the food? Probably taste's better after working so hard to get it on the plate. yeah?" He rested his cheek on his palm, with his elbow propped up on his knee. He was getting pretty hungry himself but he had a habit of serving himself last if possible.

ᴘʀᴏᴊᴇᴄᴛ: _ɢᴇɴᴇsɪs

@deadpixel101 If you could go into a little more detail on exactly what the shadow looks like and how other people might interact with it, that would be aces. Otherwise, you're approved.

@Lemons

Great!

I'll make sure to go into detail on his powers.

EDIT:

I've added a little bit to his powers, stating the puppets look like condensed purple/black gas. Their shape of them mimics Andre's body, with the clothes he's wearing as well. These were added to my application above.

ᴘʀᴏᴊᴇᴄᴛ: _ɢᴇɴᴇsɪs

That's more then fair, let's see if this is too off the wall then:

Here comes a new challenger

Andre

Full Name:
Andre B. Wolfe

Age:
18

Sex:
Male

---

Appearance:
Standing at 5'8 with pale skin, a lithe build, and a heart shaped face, Andre is not an intimidating form. He has broad shoulders and slender fingers, with his legs seeming to take a noticeably larger space then his torso. His eyes are almond shaped with heavy lids, and bags etched underneath. They are a warm brown color, with long lashes. His nose is narrow and just a little longer then he'd like. His brows are well kept looking, although that is due to good genes, and not effort. His cheek bones are defined while his ears are small and out of the way. His hair is black and wavy coming down in a mess to near his earlobes. His lips are thin and seemingly always down turned ever so slightly at the ends.

Personality:
Nihilistic, sarcastic, sassy, pacifistic, indecisive, obsequious.

Biographical Information:
Andre lived a somewhat secluded life. He had a part time job working at his mothers greenhouse, and he went to school. He was content with his life, and enjoyed his family, and his few close friends. He took to solitary hobbies like video-games, drawing and writing. He was also a big movie fan, and would go to the theater often. There is not much to say about his life near the point of the incident leading him to this facility. Of course there is a darker chapter in his younger years. At the age of 12 he was a much more sociable and outgoing child. He had one very good friend who he had grown up beside in his old neighborhood. These two would play make-believe games of superheroes, secret agents and hard-boiled detectives. Often this would mean one would have to find the other, or seek something such as a "clue" they hid. As they got better at this, they got more daring as well. Hiding themselves or these objects in increasingly higher risk places. One such place was a construction site.

Sneaking under the rusted fence, the two were playing on what was going to be a long arch bridge. Hiding a clue on a tree hanging over the rushing stream, he sent her to go looking for it. Pretty quickly it was found, climbed towards and taken. Then a gust of wind hit, and she slipped. Taking a nasty tumble down past a barricade, she was caught in the water fast. It took Andre a moment too many to get over his fear and jump in after her. She didn't make it, and in fact, he was lucky to be found before he had hit the falls as well. The current had knocked his head against the bottom of the stream, and he got caught on a rock. Since then he became more of a shut in, and less of a people person.

---

Ability:
Shadow Puppet:
Able to generate a three-dimensional copy of his own body made seemingly of "shadow". It can appear as it's own separate entity up to a certain area around Andre, though the farther it goes the more mental strain it puts on him. Because of this he usually doesn't have it "summoned". It is apparent that it can be manifested and dispersed with his will. Andre is also able to generate parts of this "puppet" instead of the entity as a whole. As this being has a stronger constitution and general higher strength, Andre often summons it's arms to aid him in things. As this being is not actually alive, it takes no risk in dangerous situations. Beyond the fact that it has a limited distance, it is usable for things such as exploration, working in harsh conditions/environments, and general dangerous bodily situation. It cannot speak in any way, and is susceptible to high-frequency noises. Summoning it takes up to 2 seconds as a whole body, though single limbs like arms, can appear nigh instantaneously. Dismissing it takes a similar span of time. What Andre sees the puppet sees, and vice versa. He can have only one whole puppet out at a time, but the "mass" of the total can be summoned in other forms. The common use being multiple arms. These beings are solid, and thus can be damaged or destroyed, though they look like condensed shapes of a blackish/purple haze. They cannot smell or seem to feel, though do have some slight personality. Their shape perfectly mimics Andre, clothes and all.

Strengths, Skills, Weaknesses:
A bit of an artist, they enjoy both drawing and creative writing. Has experience with climbing and squeezing into odd spaces (useful for hiding). While he isn't very strong he can run decently fast, and better yet, run at a normal pace for an extended amount of time. He is a mediocre pick-lock, and is a surprisingly great dancer. He has a bad past with swimming, and has thus garnered a level of fear for it. While he can deal with heights and tight spaces, large crowds cause him to panic. He tends to hyper-fixate on things, which will cause him to starve himself, and altogether neglect general self care. He isn't very tidy, and usually needs a push in the right direction to get things done.

ᴘʀᴏᴊᴇᴄᴛ: _ɢᴇɴᴇsɪs

If this is still open i'd like to throw a CS at it.

EDIT:

I'd also like to ask what sort of powers we are working here. Are we supposed to think more like mutations? Such as claws or whatnot. Or is it even within the range of more abstract powers. Like control over paper as a random example?

A different SBURB session. (Ryik and Deadpixel101)

> Ryan: Continue towards your inevitable demise.

Ryan can’t continue towards his inevitable demise because he’s too busy being Tigerdeath.



This is your life now.

> Tigerdeath: Enough of this nonsense, go back to being the Nutjob McStupidhair

Tigerdeath can’t be Nutjob McStupidhair because he’s too busy being Bell.

That is to say, you’re too busy being Bell.

What do you do?

> Bell: Install those disks!

While that would be a very wise and prudent thing to do, instead of wasting time doing nothing forever; it looks like that won’t be possible. Your mother only gave you one maroon package! The parcel only contained one disk, when you were clearly told by your friend there would be two of them. Not only that, but you have the sneaking suspicion that you have here a server disk instead of a client one. And while that’s all well and good, you want to have a more tangible hands on experience. You’ve planned to have someone else be your server player since the beginning.

You don’t want to mess up by installing this first and accidentally locking yourself into the wrong position.

> Bell: Look inside notebook.

While you might be inclined to do that at another time your mom locked you up, today’s not that kind of day. You have bigger fish to fry. You don’t have time to sit around writing lengthy stories about crime-fighting vigilante and their countless romantic going-ons. Also, you’re not sure why you said that, because you don’t like showing anyone those stories. In fact, forget you said that.

Okay, you forgot what you said. Everyone is very proud of themselves.

> Bell: Fry the bigger fish.

That’s sort of an abstract command but alright, you’ll make it work.

Heading to your filing cabinet you flip through all your cases. In the “L” section lost items take up a large portion of space, but one particular folder catches your eye. You pick it up, making sure not to captchalogue it. Inside you have your trusty lock-picks. Of course your mother knows you have these. Keeping them “hidden” in here is just a formality. Because you know she knows. And as she knows you know she knows, it’s now a game of authority. You tuck the file back where it belongs and-

Oh god damnit.

You captchalogue the lock-picks. Now hidden in your packed Sylladex, you’re going to have to spin to get them out. You don’t even know why you have so much junk in there, you only have like 10 slots. Another notebook occupies one, while a pencil does another. The third is taken up but some peppermints, and another by a few baseballs. After that you have some computer parts taking up a slot. An outfit fills another and some dirty laundry one more after it. There’s a portable generator with some cord taking up one of the last few cards, and to finish it off are your lock-picks, and phone.

Oh well. Only one thing to do.

> Bell: Spin the wheel.

With a good turn of the wheel it goes flying. You’ve learned from experience that nudging it slowly to the desired item doesn’t work. The blur of colors goes by annnnnd…
You are the proud new owner of a brand new car!

Car meaning pencil. Brand new meaning old. Gross, looks like you chewed the end of it.

> Bell: Try again.

Here goes nothing!

Off it goes. Getting slower. Slower…

Slower...

Sloooooooooower...

…

..

.

And your phone drops to the floor.

Thank goodness you bought that phone case. You’ve lost more than one device to this pesky wheel.

> Bell: Spin better this time!

Third time’s the charm!

Using your good pitching arm you send the wheel turning.

Turning to a stop the slot with your lock-picks is one off of the arrow! The little peg is holding it there buuuuut…

The last bit of inertia drops it over the line! The picks fall into your hands and you’re good to go! You pick up your pencil and phone. No need to leave em lying around you figure.

> Bell: Unlock the door.

It’s not locked dummy. It just has a heavy as shit suit of armor or something blocking it. You head to the window instead.

Mom changes the locks on this one often, but she never buys anything too heavy duty. If she did then you wouldn’t be able to get out unless you broke some glass. Of course she wouldn’t care about replacing it, but that has no style. It doesn’t conform to her rules. And it doesn't sit well with your pride. No, instead she just changes it. This way she knows you can get out if you work hard enough. Hard enough to go against her wishes. It’s just a question if you will do it. Of course that answer is yes.

With a good amount of effort the lock drops to the floor. You put the picks back in your sylladex and slip out the window. The perfect crime.

Stepping carefully onto the ledge underneath the window, you shimming carefully, with your back to the wall. Thankfully it’s not a very windy day. You look down to the grassy patch below you. Between the fence and your house is a bit of property that belongs to you (your mom) and while it looks nice and poofy it isn’t going to catch your fall. Luckily you’re pretty good with sticking the landing. You’ve messed up before and broke your leg, but that just made you want to do better. It also got the whole class to eventually come over and sign your cast, which was pretty cool. You continue on around the perimeter of the house, and while the corner is always the worst part, you successfully turn around it to face the backyard. A little more nudging along and you can drop safely down to the balcony. This is how you almost always get out of the house. You suppose you should check the mailbox now? Maybe mom left it there just to spite you. Of course she could have it hidden away somewhere in the house. Worse yet, she could have it on her person. You don’t know you have another round of STRIFE in you today…

What to do?

> Bell: Notice your phone alert.

Oh! It looks like another of your friends is messaging you. You hardly have any time to get to buisness with all these people hounding you. You wonder what this guy could want?

Pesterlog

-- targetedAudience [TA] began pestering triflingAnarchist [TA]
TA: Hey
TA: Hey yourself.
TA: What’s going on?
TA: Not much. Breaking out of windows, avoiding parental gazes. Attempting to get lifesaving game disks.
TA:Business as usual.
TA: I don’t really get what you mean but i’m sure that makes perfect sense in context. What sort of game disks?
TA: Duh, the one’s Izen sent us all.
TA: You should have gotten some in the mail. Noticeable by a shocking maroon colored packaging.
TA: Oh. Yeah those. I think I got them, lying around here somewhere. I guess that means the apocalypse is today?
TA: Hypothetically speaking yes.
TA:Don’t believe him?
TA:No, I don’t.
TA: Wait, do you?
TA: I’m not sure. I think I’m getting more open to the idea. Of believing him that is. Not the world ending.
TA: Honestly that surprises me a little.
TA: Any reason why?
TA: Who knows. I think Ryan is rubbing off on me or something. He likes to believe in things. Guy’s like an anime protagonist.
TA: Hah! I don’t even know if he’s allowed to watch anime.
TA: Which makes it even funnier.
TA: Lol
TA: So if you’re looking for those disks I guess that means you’re going to play the game?
TA: Well obviously. Are you not going to?
TA: You literally just stated that you might think the world is ending, and this is your only given way out. Do you WANT to die?
TA: Nah, i’m going to play, I was just wondering why you were if you don’t believe in all this doom-speak.
TA: Games are fun.
TA: Right. Well if you want to play so bad I have my disks here, we can start right now if you’d like?
TA: Hmm...
TA: While that is tempting, I sort of told Ryan I would play with him. He seems pretty amped up for it and that would be rude.
TA: Okay, just offering.
TA: I appreciate the gesture. Almost as much as I would appreciate you changing your chum-handle. There’s enough “TA”s around.
TA: You could always change yours.
TA: We both know that’s not going to happen.
TA: Well then I’ve done all I could do.
TA: Lol, you ass.
TA: I’m a stinker alright. Well if you’re busy I shouldn’t keep you too long. No point wasting time.
TA: I am a very busy girl!
TA: But don’t you have something important to do too?
TA: I don’t think I do. Do I?
TA: Idk. It just feels like you should.
TA: It’s just that sort of day!
TA: You do a good job of not making sense while also being completely understandable sometimes.
TA: Thanks?
TA: Don’t mention it. Maybe i’ll message one of our other friends then, see who i’ll pay with. It’s done in pairs right?
TA: Sort of.
TA: Either way getting people to play with you lined up is a good idea. It might save your life after all!
TA: Is that a joke?
TA: Of course it is.
TA: Right. Haha. Well, see you around then.
TA: Byeee.
-- targetedAudience [TA] ceased pestering triflingAnarchist [TA]

After that short exchange you decide to head into the house. No point in waiting around outside. Making your way into the hallway which leads to the living room, you see some odd fixtures on the wall. Odd but not alien, you’ve grown up with stuff like this all over the place. Your room is easily the most normal one in the house.

Along the walls you can see a mounted deer head with glowing red eyes, affixed to a recreation of the mona lisa. Her head is also a deer head. Next to that is a large framed print of a photo. It depicts a very well crafted robot doing The Thinker pose. It’s sitting on an exercise ball. While this is actually one of your mom’s friend’s work, you think it fits in decently well with the other stuff around here.

You head into the living room, to do your important task of finding that disk!

What do you do?

Wrath of Darkness

Responding in turn to Matt, Rig nodded after taking a drink himself. "Of course, yeah I'll double, triple check it before we take off. I ran a quick look over everything earlier and all the systems seemed fine, but i'll make sure everything's good for certain. We should run a small test before everyone get's on tomorrow though, just to be sure."

He sat around the fire, enjoying listening to people more then going out of his way to talk. He didn't plan on going out for meat or firewood unless he felt he needed to, so he just the others take that initiative. Later on, they divided up shifts, and Matt offered the idea of doing a diagnosis of the ship during his watch. Rig agreed with a nod and simple "Sounds good to me." before returning to the current calm. After sitting in silence for a good bit he took out his sidearm. The thing glinted in the fire which made him slightly nervous. A fire was one thing but mirror signals into the dark woods seemed a little stupid. He kept it low and took to cleaning it and oiling the cylinders. Spinning them with one hand it glided how he liked it. He stopped it to look at the engraving, having the same thought run through his head that always did when he reminisced like this.

How fucking stupid.

The patterns were intricate and well done, but the picture inscribed where that of medieval times. From what source material could be found of the older times, he had grown an affinity for the armored and gallant soldiers. Before he knew it he was drafting designs of them, and once he had his hands on the weapon he got to work. Hardly any time had passed since he finished the job, just a few years, but already it seemed so juvenile. What was he going for? Was the gun supposed to be his "sword"? Or was he supposed to be a knight using the thing? Either way it was silly. It felt like a kid plastering their walls with posters of motorcycles. Which was also something Rig had done. As he slipped the gun back into it's holster Spook raised a question. As if to add to his current flow of though she asked what the biggest thing they had hunted was.

He had to seriously think about that one. He had run into a few dangerous things on the trips out here but he'd never gone that far before. Not only that but he was always teamed up with good soldiers, often in the armored division. Meaning they had been carrying some big fucking guns. After Matt told his part he decided to speak up as well. "I've...Helped take down a dire-bear once. But that was in the mounted division, so we were in some gnarly vehicles. I just had to sit there and focus fire. Thing was alone, didn't have much of a chance to target any one of us. Not only that but it was heavily wounded before we even saw it. I think it had gotten into a fight with something else out there. I've always counted myself lucky we never ran into whatever it was up against." He said with a nervous half laugh. Other then that his kill list wasn't very extensive. He had actually hardly taken anything down himself, and in those occasions it was close.

A different SBURB session. (Ryik and Deadpixel101)

A young lady stands in her room. It just so happens that today, the twelfth of June, is the day that everyone dies. You’ve been looking forward to it for a while actually, and while those two statements are not mutually exclusive, they are not correlated. What is this young girl’s name?

> GIRTHY JERKASS X

Try again, smartass.

> BELL WOLFE O



Had today been this girl’s birthday, perhaps one might have been able to name her, but such an event occurred three years ago. Her HONORARY PLACRONYM is already filled out!

Your name is Bell, and you have a wide variety of INTERESTS, evident with just a cursory glance around your room. As seen by your bat, glove and worn balls by your desk, you have an affinity for BASEBALL. Your shelves are packed more with GAMES than they are with books. An old filing cabinet holds the records of your CASES, as you enjoy SOLVING CRIMES. Even if those crimes tend to be lost items, or playground squabbles.

What will you do?

> Bell: Retrieve arms.

No sir, you’re not interested in rehashing old memes so worn that they were ignored even in the source material. Maybe you should try again with something less pointless.

> Bell: Squawk like a imbecile and shit on your desk.

You have no inclination of doing something so stupid and useless.

> Bell: Do something less stupid and useless.

Gladly. You head over to your dresser to retrieve your arms. Opening it up, a bunch of shitty handcuffs fall out. Of course that was going to happen, you knew those were in there. You don’t even know why you bothered looking. Besides, if you wanted to arm yourself, your trusty baseball bat is right over there. You take the pile of cuffs, and store them in your sylladex. Your current modus attributes it to one space on a wheel. If you want retrieve your pile of shitty cuffs, you’re going to have to spin for it, and hope for the best.

> Bell: Examine the rest of your room.

Sure thing. The one corner of the room you currently stand in doesn’t have much to it. Other than your CLOSET OF CUFFS you have a few posters pasted up on the walls. Most of them being from recently released video game titles, or of art bought at conventions. Beside the closet is your filing cabinet, littered with candles and various junk on top. Opposite of this is where your computer desk sits. Your laptop is closed atop it, with your notebooks piled up beside it. Next to that is your TV and your game consoles. The controllers are somewhere around here. Other then that you have your shelves above the desk, lined with different game titles. Moving on to another corner you have your bed and night stand. Not much to talk about there. It has blue sheets. Across from the foot of your bed is the last described corner of your room is. There you have a trunk filled with a bunch of old kids toys you haven’t tossed out yet. And your board game collection. Of which is quite vast. A few stuffed animals, a magnifying glass, and a plastic badge sit blocking the way into the old box. A plastic fan is unplugged, pushed beside the trunk and out of the way. As well as a few cardboard boxes, holding the parts for the computer tower you want to put together. Saving up the money for all the parts is taking some time though.

> Bell: This is boring. Answer the one with maroon text.

It looks like one of your chums is pestering you. You wonder what they could want? You sit down at your laptop and try to find out.

Pesterlog

-- cynicalToxopholite [CT] began pestering triflingAnarchist [TA] --
CT: yo.
TA: Hey there!
CT: has it arrived yet?
TA: I don’t think so. I haven’t checked the mail yet though.
CT: hmm...
TA: Honestly I think my mom might have it, and i’m sort of avoiding trying to get it from her :/
TA: You know how it is with parents.
CT: remember how i casually mentioned that when we play this game, we’ll be escaping an apocalypse?
CT: i think you’re going to have to grow a pair.
TA: Oh you were serious about that? Sorry but I don’t take every prophecy from a conspiracy theorist living on Skulldeath Island to heart.
TA: I’ll get it soon, I do want to play it, after all. I wonder what a game made by a kid living on a volcano looks like?
CT: i didn’t make it so much as put it together but i suppose it doesn’t matter.
CT: no matter how it turns out, it’s bound to be better than your trashy taste in video games.
CT: “oh no! touhou is too hard! That means it’s a bad game~!”
CT: “it totally has nothing to do with my own ineptitude!”
CT: but i digress.
CT: it’s not like i’d believe me on the whole apocalypse thing either, so i can’t really blame you there.
CT: but at the least, you might wanna be a little more considerate of others who want to play it.
CT: it doesn’t do anything without a client and a server, you know.
TA: I’m sorry that your epileptic, waifu-bait game full of noodle-limbed girls don’t suit my fancy.
CT: i don’t have a waifu.
TA: Sure you don’t.
TA: And just because i’m not as pathologically obsessed as you doesn’t mean i’m bad at them.
TA: Regardless! I agree that choosing the right players matters. I don’t want someone like you being able to mess with my stuff.
CT: haha, you don’t believe me about the apocalypse, but you believe that part?
CT: doesn’t really matter i guess.
CT: i’ve got things to take care of anyway, so i won’t be able to play for a while.
CT: you should hit up Ryan, he’s been riding my ass for details ever since i first told him about it.
CT: if left alone, he might do something stupid like play with himself.
TA: Phrasing.
CT: i’d make a touhou joke here but you wouldn’t even get it.
TA: What a tragedy.
CT: truly a crying shame.
TA: I could live with having Ryan be my other player. Kid’s a little uptight so I doubt he’ll get into any trouble.
CT: uptight?
CT: dude’s so straight-laced that shenanigans aren’t even a concept to him.
TA: Hah, you’re not wrong. I guess i’ll shoot him a message when he comes on. Or when I get my game disk.
TA: Whichever happens first.
CT: let me know if you see a meteor hurtling towards your house at terminal velocity.
TA: Sure thing space case. Guess i’m off to deal with the landlady.
-- cynicalToxopholite [CT] ceased pestering triflingAnarchist [TA] --

> Bell: Exit room.

Not before you store your baseball bat in your strife deck. If you plan on running into her, then you’d better be ready to throw down. With that settled you open the door and-

> [ S ] STRIFE!



Woah! Mom’s going on the offense today. Good thing you have your bat at the ready. You attempt to AGGRIEVE with little effect. As per usual your bat swings don’t seem to do much. She counters easily and uses her GUARDIAN RUBRIC to forcefully give you a gift. You fail to ABJURE and end up with an armful of maroon colored package, and your butt on the floor. You captchalogue it, but with your sylladex so stuffed full of crap it ejects your pile of shitty cuffs. The mess draws upon her GUARDIAN IRE. With a flash they were scooped up and deposited on your bed, with one pair now around your wrists. In a second you’re free. Even if they were real, you have a knack for getting out them. Equipping your bat again you take another AGGRIEVE chance. You’re attacks are easily AVANT-GUARDED and countered with a puff of glitter to the face. In your shiny and dazed state you hear the sound of a closing door, and a loud THUMP. She’s blocked the door with another of her cast statues you bet. You sit up and start to clean the shiny pink flecks from yourself. You win this round mom. You win this round.

> Bell: Message Ryan.

Pesterlog

-- triflingAnarchist [TA] began pestering arrantTachyon [AT] --
TA: Hey kid. How excited to play CT’s game are you?
AT: Extremely!
AT: Aren’t you?
TA: I mean. I guess so?
TA: Really i’m more wondering what YOU’VE done to deserve to play with me.
TA: Got a parental ass beating yet?
AT: Um…
AT: Not today. Well, not yet.
TA: Makes one of us. Do you have your copy of the game?
AT: Not yet. I think it’s on our apartment doorstep, but Bro keeps the door locked in a way I can’t undo.
AT: I don’t know where he could be, but I don’t think I can wait for him to come home.
AT: About that ass-beating thing you mentioned...
AT: We haven’t strifed in a while, and a friend of mine keeps being ominous.
TA: Is it Izen? He’s been telling me the world’s going to end. So if that puts a fire under you to get moving then, hey.
AT: Hmm? You don’t believe him?
TA: Not really? I find it a little too convenient that the kid living on an island, who’s full of conspiracies of all sorts would just so happen run into knowledge about the apocalypse.
TA: Boy who cried wolf and all that, it’s too cliché.
AT: I believe him.
AT: What does he have to gain out of lying here?
AT: We’d find out as soon as we played the game.
AT: Besides, you saw it too right?
AT: How much more serious he was about this game than his other theories.
TA: True, he did seem to care more about this one. I guess I just have a bit more trouble believing in stuff more than you.
TA: But I think it’s a little hasty to believe it fully. Something like the world ending out of the blue is a little much.
AT: You haven’t talked to him about it much, have you?
TA: I guess not. We tend to just trash each other's taste in games a lot when we talk.
TA: When he starts getting all existential like that it sorta harshes my mellow you know what I mean?
AT: Haha!
AT: And here he complains about me being existential all the time.
AT: I get you though, he’s not exactly the best person to ask for video game advice.
AT: Much less on older games in the series...
TA: Aw does he rag on your retro stuff? Even I have to admit it’s pretty cool. Doesn’t beat what high-definition beauty current PC gaming brings, but it has its charms.
TA: I think. Honestly my current computer is pretty shitty. I’m still working away on that tower…
AT: It’s not like all my games are old by choice.
AT: Not that they aren’t all awesome.
AT: I have a couple of PC games on the old laptop my Dad lets me use.
AT: I don’t think they qualify as “high-definition beauty” though.
TA: Haha. I bet not.
TA: You wouldn’t happen to have anything online would you? I’m sure my laptop can run whatever you’ve got.
TA: Shit now that I think about it will Izen’s game work? If it’s too big to send digitally it must be huge.
AT: Don’t discs have a storage limit of around one GB?
TA: Hm. Yeah they do. So what the hell why couldn’t he send it online?
TA: My suspicion grow.
AT: Well, for one, my Bro restricts all internet access except pesterchum.
TA: Does Izen seem like the type to go through all those hoops just to coordinate us playing on the same day?
AT: Judging based on what I know about the game, I don’t think there’s any other way of doing it.
TA: He must be serious about this end of the world thing.
AT: I thought so too!
TA: Well, whatever reason he sent it, it’s here now.
TA: I’ve got my copies here I think. I doubt the maroon parcels are from anyone else but him.
TA: What do you think about getting yours? If you’re so excited about playing it maybe me and you can start.
AT: My Dad’s still not home yet.
AT: I should probably wait for him, but I really don’t want to keep you waiting.
AT: I think this calls for drastic measures.
TA: Haha. Okay then!
AT: Wish me luck!
TA: Peace out kid~
-- arrantTachyon [AT] ceased pestering triflingAnarchist [TA] --

Wrath of Darkness

Rig spent enough time, with enough distance away from Bastet and subsequently Isis, that he had become...accepting of the beast. By no means was he going to pet it or even talk to Nasari while she was with it, but at least he didn't feel like bolting when he looked at it. Something he was doing frequently. He would switch from watching Matt fly with interest, and watching Isis defend her hell-beast with. With... Contempt wasn't the right word, that wasn't Rig's style. Nervousness? That was certainly part of it. He didn't want to dislike the woman for her connection with the thing, but he can never pull the negativity separate from the creature. As Matthew brought the Hawk down, he approached rig. Offering him the given manual. "Oh thank you! This is great!" Immediately swept into the pages he didn't even have time to act overly humble in response. He just nodded and hummed a response. Before takeoff he would take another diagnostics view. Looking over every part of the ship, being as thorough as possible while not wasting precious daylight. After giving the green light to match the on deck operators, they were in the air.

---

Making sure to seat himself as far away from Isis and Bastet as possible, Rig was flipping through the manual to the craft. He wondered if he would get to keep it after they got back. Or...If they got back. He looked up from his reading to sigh at the thought. Looking to the group he was with, he wondered what they were all thinking. How often did they give into these thoughts as well? Sure he had things in check most times, but every excursion was a different swath of threats. Just as he opened his mouth to try and a get a word out the gang, a wave of force battered them. Soon the coms exploded with chatter on what was happening and down they went, avoiding the invisible tendrils that had licked their craft so viciously. Rig's fear for dying to a beast, whether Bastet or otherwise was thrown out the window, with his fear of being thrown out the window taking place.

Soon enough though they were on the ground. And after a few deep breaths to regain his senses, he was on his feet outside. He assisted in setting camp up, and quickly went to run another look over the ship, make sure things weren't damaged by the ordeal. After everything checked out okay he sat near to Matt at the fire.

"Hey, damn good job not letting us die up there." He paused with a smirk. "Any idea what went on? It didn't appear to be a hardware error."

Wrath of Darkness

Aight I posted about Rig just having a fucking gay old time at all the mechanical possibilities.

Also, Duvari. I can't forget he doesn't like those things lmao.

And I was hoping he could talk with Isis soon. A shame.