|
Can I just state that I am saddened by the lack of wine, sake, jaggermeister or even absinthe? Which one of the drink options would we have to drink in order to wish an actual good drink into us?
|
#
?
Apr 18, 2021 12:35
|
|
|
|
| # ? Jun 5, 2024 20:36 |
|
|
VOTING CLOSED - Never Drunkplay The Crane Game Grain - Bathtub Ambrosia [Concentrated] - 2 Gin - Yellow Midnight [Regal] - 7 Vodka - Cloudlace [Airy] - 3 Tequila - Toast [Loosen] - 4 Rum - Carry [Physique] - 1 Whiskey - Ancient Shennanigan [Inexpensive] - 2 Brandy - Shingria [Fruit] - 0 Beer - Black Gold [Courage] - 5 Pizza Plaque - 7 Pizza Plushie - 18 Pizza Potion - 1 LOADING...  ...LOADING
|
|
#
?
Apr 18, 2021 17:42
|
|
|
Okay okay. O.K. You take out the elixir cocktail again to examine it closer, while you sidle up to the Claw Machine. 'Yellow Midnight'. Seems more golden in the glass windows than the base stuff. You guess it'll be good in a medical emergency if the placard is right. Can't drink it now, though. So you're doing the Claw Machine sober. You marvel at the crystalline glass - all the prizes inside look like they're pizza themed? There's even an entire pizza box, presumably with a pizza inside. It has one game paid for to play... Ok. Gotta try. There's a lot of esoteria in the pile, but the real prize you're after is a big plushie pizza, stuck out at the perfect angle to pluck up. You just. Have. To aim it. So you take a deep breath. You press the button to start. You jerk the crane around with 30 seconds to aim, and get a feel for the sway. You look around from every angle and aim the claw as best as possible, finally confident with the choice. Kwiat will love it this pillow. She will be a pizza chicken. You smash the button. (DX: THE CLAW) 11 - [5]+[6]+[6] = 17 - CRITICAL FAILURE! The claw flies down with gravitational intent. It grabs the pizza plushie and grips on tight. But as it rises, it gets caught on something so hard the plushie tears itself apart from the claw's unrelenting strength. You watch in horror; it doesn't end there. The torn-open plush continues to be pulled up and out, hooking other pizza prizes as it goes. A metal prize with a small sharp edge creates a spark when it's pulled-caught against a metal edge, which reaches the plush stuffing.  To conclude where this ends for you, about two minutes later, it's staring with disbelief and horror behind a trash can at the burning Claw Machine. Your hubris has cost you. Little Kwiat's pizza pillow is loving GONE. Soon, the placard for the machine is all that's left, as well as a bunch of scorched innards and some burnt wishdust. All you can make out is that this was an original piece of '90 Cross', who is 'Arcade Royalty'. poo poo. (PE: The Silver Mind - Keep Cool!) 13 - [3]+[6]+[6] = 15 - Failure! poo poo. ANXIETY: [ X ][ X ][30%] Ok ok ok ok. It's fine. Nobody saw, right? But the smoke... you need to get out of here. You need to start walking and not stop. Go go go go. It's a mindless half hour of restless wandering, pausing often to squat down and hide in some dark corner. You bring yourself together enough to sneak out of the plaza, figuring that hiding in the rubble of the northeast will allow you to wait out any attention the burned machine is going to get. You want to go look at the water and relax. Passing by a stack of busted up coffee machines, you peek and see the high walls of the tumbled northeast apartments. They're not particularly overgrown, and host a small mountain of quiet Rivergreen life. You spy gray frogs in puddles, angular birds against the sky, hosts of violet butterflies and pebble bugs, the occasional flash of a gray-furred mammal- good, right? Means nobody is in what's left of the windows. Nervous, you pull Red's shroud tighter. You make a Kadath-red shadow drifting by the green front, round its corner and see what's left. The answer is a steady stair-like decline of apartment matter, basement matter, foundation matter, plant matter, and finally down into river-matter. You could spend all day exploring, but not before making yourself known to the residents. From the top of the slope you can see the river, immense in its blue sweep towards the sea, rivertrees thickening it down through its shallows. You try to not think about the immensity of your walk, and the sheer area you need to search. Don't think about the cult and Blue. Don't. ... Wait, poo poo. Someone is down there. There! Like two levels down, squatting hidden behind some rubble. He- oh God he already has the draw on you. ANXIETY: [ X ][ X ][ X ][40%]  Man... grease-paint man. Wore it symbolic of one of the most powerful Masks to ever exist. He was an older man. Pot belly, shirtless. Salt and peppered, scarred. Lean, but his arms are still beastly. Mishappen and wounded feet. Nothing but a pair of brightly colored odd-sized pants with two strong suspenders. Jaunty little cap on his head, covering the thinned emerald hair. He has a shotgun pointed at you. Big, big, bigmother sawn-off, held casual-like. Head bobbing and eyes unfocused, but the aim... no the aim is precise. He focuses his look on me, and waits a beat, while I stay frozen. He puts up a hand, waves it in apology, and slowly lowers his shotgun. He points at his eyes, and then throws a motion over the rubble down the river. You look down the river where he points, while trying to keep an eye on him and ready to quickdraw or dive. But you notice it after a second, something scuttling up the river rocks. It happened too fast for you to have understood what you saw, but it sets off your hackles and provokes you to dive down the first ledge to get under an overhang of broken stone, where you still have a line of sight to the old clown. He keeps watching you, and then makes a motion for you to come down to his level. Your hand is on your gun. Your back is electric-arching and muscles are turning to stone again. You decide you'd rather try to collaborate with the clown rather than stay in sight of whatever speedy thing was down in the rocks. You compromise by risking a half-step down to a slanted stone block with window looking out down the slope. The old man keeps his shotgun down. He speaks at moderate volume, voice gross with throatgoo and runny nose, and god knows whatever clown cocktails he smells of. "Hey-ey. Ss-sorry for the aim. Thought you were magic folk. "I thhhtthought you, thought I smelled it. My big red nose did." - he taps it with authority and no smile. "Killin' intent. But no, no it's ok, you're ok. I ah ah uh I'm, you can call me Shattyshot, and, and I wanna ask you three things look see plplease watch." Effortlessly, he makes his shotgun disappear with a few quick stiffly-moved tricks of his hands and some flare with a dirty white napkin he pulls out of nowhere. He puts both hands up, no smile, clearing his throat and snorting. With a prolonged dig through his pants pocket, going down to his elbow, he pulls out a worn wallet and snaps it open, proving with full credentials he is in fact a Clown.  You're not sure what to say. Three th- "One, so, one what they call you, two, what do you feel about this-" he gestures to himself "-about the idea? Number three, ok so number three is I've asked you those and the third, is do you want to help me do a thing about pop poppin' at the mut down there?" You lean hidden against the window and look at the old man, trying to figure out through your worry if he's being serious. You hesitate and think, reaching out with your psychic senses to try to get a stronger idea of who and what he is. (!PSI ESP a) 11 - [3]+[6]+[5] = 14 - Failure! drat IT. You swallow and ignore the blossom of heat over your brain as the neurons strain, and decide to just answer his questions while you still have the mind to do so clearly. You must become something here at the apartments. But what to become? Whoever that 'what' is though, now they gotta give an opinion of the greasepaint gig. Plus whether or not to spill some ammo.
|
|
#
?
Apr 20, 2021 20:22
|
|
|
What, no option in vote 1 to Get Down With The Clown?
|
|
#
?
Apr 20, 2021 21:34
|
|
|
Yanno, given we've wasted 6 bullets before on just shooting ourself in the head, I think we can spare one to help this dude. EDIT: Also, can I say, I'm glad that critical failure happened at the least important time.
|
|
#
?
Apr 20, 2021 22:13
|
|
|
Reminder: The Harlequin is the strong fool of the classic comedia dell arte set of fools. So keep an eye out for zanni antics.
|
|
#
?
Apr 20, 2021 22:16
|
|
|
PetraCore posted:EDIT: Also, can I say, I'm glad that critical failure happened at the least important time. that pizza plushie would have made our chicky friend so happy 
|
|
#
?
Apr 20, 2021 22:29
|
|
|
PetraCore posted:
That's not THE critical failure we are due for. Also, checking our sheet: Yellow Midnight Elixir mixed with gin. Full-heals HP, gives ‘Royalty’ effect. Regallion fucked around with this message at 22:33 on Apr 20, 2021 |
|
#
?
Apr 20, 2021 22:30
|
|
|
We are the Singer. We're been using that moniker for long enough, might as well keep rolling with it. And who doesn't love the colorful harlequin and his quest to overcome the serious Pierrot? And sure, we can help him out. We've been sitting on the bullets, we can spend one as a show of good nature.
|
|
#
?
Apr 20, 2021 22:36
|
|
|
I'm not sure what 18 on the claw machine would have done. We yank up the prize and turns out that Death was napping in the plushie pile?
|
|
#
?
Apr 20, 2021 23:03
|
|
|
[YASD] Claw machine fail = heart attack? Smiercia? plz someone read this log, wtf
|
|
#
?
Apr 20, 2021 23:05
|
|
|
Razakai posted:I'm not sure what 18 on the claw machine would have done. We yank up the prize and turns out that Death was napping in the plushie pile? The claw lifts... Oh. Oh no. The claw pulls a plushy Smiercia up, giving us a death glare. It's... It's just like the real thing. Oh joy. Leaving the prize in the slot, we walk away from the claw machine never to speak of this again.
|
|
#
?
Apr 20, 2021 23:15
|
|
|
Arcanuse posted:The claw lifts... Oh. Oh no. The claw pulls a plushy Smiercia up, giving us a death glare. It's... It's just like the real thing. Oh joy. ...I kind of actually want plushie Smiercia. Claw machine critfail was hilarious though.
|
|
#
?
Apr 21, 2021 00:37
|
|
|
Razakai posted:I'm not sure what 18 on the claw machine would have done. We yank up the prize and turns out that Death was napping in the plushie pile? The claw machine grabs onto the very fabric of reality and slowly tears it open, creating a void in time and space. It sucks you into the dark oblivion, shortly before sucking everything else in the valley into timeless annihilation. Game Over.
|
|
#
?
Apr 21, 2021 02:05
|
|
|
Regallion posted:That's not THE critical failure we are due for.
|
|
#
?
Apr 21, 2021 04:54
|
|
|
VOTING CLOSED - Qloun Questions I like clowns. - 11 I like jesters. - 7 I like harlequins. - 13 I *really* do not like clowns. - 3 The Tyrant - 0 The Singer - 22 The Ambassador - 10 Just a tourist - 1 Sure. [-1 Bullet] - 25 Can't spare the ammo. - 3 [Murderous Intent] Agree, pull my gun, and down him in one shot. [-1 Bullet] - 4 LOADING...  ...LOADING
|
|
#
?
Apr 22, 2021 00:36
|
|
|
You look at the abrupt clown, mentally massaging your still-sore third eye before you fire back responses. It comes easy enough - you remember the dream of being on a couch with your hand on a party cat, and you sat with the Duke and his sister sisters. 'The Singer' is what you say you are, slang and filmy like the gauze you shroud yourself in. The old clown looks suspicious, holding his nose with an arm crossed. But he nods, and motions for you to go on. So you tell him, yeah, you like harlequins. That gets his attention. Shattyshot turns his nose around a few ways, nodding with the first show of a smile. "Yyyeah yeah. Connoisseur? I mean I hop I tumble I watch I rumble. That's the clown crecchhhdentials working. Jesters, jessin' is rough gig, you're ggone around deflating egos allotheday. But harlequin? Ouuuohhh that one stands at the big table. That one plays hard at the sky."  There's the sound of something moving. He does a little scramble, shockfast for how messy-wet he speaks, and somehow has been holding the shotgun at the ready the entire time. He frowns and drapes the dirty napkin over his head while peeking over his slab of rubble. You get his attention and flash your gun with an open coat. He nods. "Lilshooty" he makes a squirt gun sound, and then goes back to peeking. The heavy cloud cover and blue static makes it difficult to play snipespy. "Sshso your shooty, well let's see see, let's bet let's see which one of us can hit it better. So y'see it?" Slowly, revolver-ready, you peek through your window. At first, you see... noth... nnnno there's something moving, and your hackles are back up. You can't tell what it is, besides a mass of wet gray slippery rotten meat. It's jerking, flopping, sliding, and sometimes outright leaping up in a weird half-hover before dropping. You can make it out: click-screams with a bone-shivering droning. You steel yourself against the sight. [Lionheart] You take aim. Right down the sights. Steady... wait for it to leap again, since it rests after it does so. Then yo- Shattyshot slaps the stone ground and interrupts. "Nooonnooo! No wait no! Looklooklook! No mut! It did a trick! It tricked it tricked!" - he's excited, because the slimy gray meat is dead after all; just the shredded rotremains. This becomes obvious when it ruptures, something clawing its way out from inside with a fury. Exploding from the corpse comes not a maggot, but worse. A beetle, with such an iridescent emerald shell. Bulky body, sturdy and large as a dog, but even larger are the two scything claws it uses to reave through the meat. They're dense and long, decapitation-weighted with the near-vorpal of their edge. Finishing the horror was the threefold managers of the killer bug body; two multifaceted bright eyes, two droning beetle-shelled wings, and a mouth with too too too many mandibles, still dripping with gorefeast.  Oh it loving tricked. (DX: Stealth) 11 - [2]+[2]+[3] = 7 - Success! You get lucky and dive back under the window before you're seen. It carried so much meat so quickly! It moves so FAST! But you have to keep your sweat light. You adjust your collar and finger the hammer of your revolver while looking at Shattyshot, who has managed to contort himself into hiding in a small crack with a deepened frown. But the bug knows someone is here. It sounds angry. The Silver Mind doesn't need to do a single bit of sleuthing to tell you that the only color reflected back is a searing beacon-red of RAGE. It makes an awful sound as it searches- the combination of its killer claws scraping against stone and tearing up debris, the drone of its wings throwing its carapace bulk around, and worst of all, the terrible clicking of its mayfold mandibles, creating a bug-screech of 'kkrrkrrrrkrkkkrkrkrkrrkrk' while it stomps around. ANXIETY: [ X ][ X ][ X ][40%] You're too tense. Muscles stiff with murderous intent; what else does the red nose know? You make up your mind before any sense or measure can stand up to it; stomach tenses with six-pack perfection, shielding the acid-churned garbage compactor behind it. The compromise of your cranial sparks the central nervous into action, as your tyrannical intent sees you whip up in the window, taking dead aim with psychic senses, and fire. (!Tyranny: ACE THE SHOT) 17(-De) - [5]+[1]+[2] = 8 - Success! 7 damage! [-1 Bullet] A mass flock of silent angular birds aceglide into the gray skin. There's a sharp report, your body relaxing- you aced the shot. ANXIETY: [ X ][20%] The clawed bug takes the shot right when a wing is open, plugging it on the back. It leaps and rolls over, legs kicking and claws thrashing mad at the air as it screams. Not in pain. These things don't feel pain, apparently- it's just MORE angry. It spins and sees you, raising its claws as the color of its eyes deepens, and every mandible spreads open wide and clicks closed fast enough to create a blur. With effort, it launches itself into the air, and flies for your window ready to sever. You start to stand back to prepare for the crash, but instead you're sent hard into the ground from a sudden sonic boom. You barely catch Shattyshot flying backwards, SMASHING into a wall. You do catch, in all its glory, the bug sailing off into the air with such speed and force that it spins like a top as it goes well out of sight. (!Shattyshot) 21(-De) - [3]+[2]+[1] = 6 - Critical Success! 25 damage!  The clown doesn't smile because his shotgun is nothing to laugh about. For a second you think he's dead for sure- his old body is jumbled up from smashing into the wall, tangled in vines and flowers. But with tired eyes and a lot of painful contortion, he pulls himself out of the wall, dusts himself off, twists his hips (with a meaty-sharp crack), and picks up the smoking shotgun. He looks at you as he rises, and twists his nose with a wink. "Good sshssetup. Good shot. Wow." He walks it off, and climbs back up to base level, sitting on the ledge. "Ok ok, that was a show. Wow! That's some backup with the talk, singer. Big art, big shot, andssh, shhyou like harlequins. Boss talk. Taste." He points over where the clawed bug was sent flying. "Lotta rot left around. Lotta critters moved outta house, now making the show up in here. So so, thanks for the setup. Good back, good backup. Singer, you won thhebet. Can I treat? Got some victuals and bottles, some friends you can meet. Want in?" Well. Do you want in on this? Or maybe you should scram.
|
|
#
?
Apr 23, 2021 04:52
|
|
|
If we say we were sent by Paprika, we need to say her full name and we need to mention the colour wheat or presumably the Backup will think it’s a lie. I don’t think we remember that yet! So I think we should just be chill and hang.
|
|
#
?
Apr 23, 2021 09:48
|
|
|
We should make friends before namedropping. We don't know for sure why Paprika Blue is out at the wall, just because she said she lived here doesn't mean she wasn't kicked out.
|
|
#
?
Apr 23, 2021 15:10
|
|
|
Yeah, that sounds reasonable, last time we tried to name drop, it nearly didn't go well.
|
|
#
?
Apr 23, 2021 15:36
|
|
|
VOTING CLOSED - Down To Clown Yeah, I'd like to hang. [Don't mention Paprika yet] - 17 Sure. I was actually sent by someone. [Mention Paprika] - 5 Sorry, I'm just passing through. [Lose this clown to explore alone] - 0 LOADING...  ...LOADING
|
|
#
?
Apr 23, 2021 16:18
|
|
|
Black August posted:“Can I treat? Got some victuals and bottles, some friends you can meet. Want in?" I hope he’s not planning to drink alcohol while in costume, that would be against the Clown Code! 
|
|
#
?
Apr 24, 2021 01:02
|
|
|
... would it? I mean, I'm sure there's an actual clown code (and I'm 90% sure that people weren't BSing when they talked about the "Clown Face Museum" and the rules regarding clowns and their facepaint) but would that be an actual violation on it, or just breaking the spirit of the rules?
|
|
#
?
Apr 24, 2021 01:11
|
|
|
Randalor posted:... would it? I mean, I'm sure there's an actual clown code (and I'm 90% sure that people weren't BSing when they talked about the "Clown Face Museum" and the rules regarding clowns and their facepaint) but would that be an actual violation on it, or just breaking the spirit of the rules? I think Shattyshot is his costume though.
|
|
#
?
Apr 24, 2021 19:46
|
|
|
I'd been going to say the clown face museum was just a Discworld reference, but it looks like it's a real thing!
|
|
#
?
Apr 25, 2021 00:17
|
|
|
Putting a little extra time into this next update for its momentum, and keeping the temp forum closure in mind. Thank you for the patience!
|
|
#
?
Apr 25, 2021 04:38
|
|
|
Black August posted:Putting a little extra time into this next update for its momentum, and keeping the temp forum closure in mind. Thank you for the patience! is Radiance an element or just a fancy way of saying nuclear?
|
|
#
?
Apr 25, 2021 05:30
|
|
|
Hodgepodge posted:is Radiance an element or just a fancy way of saying nuclear? Light maybe?
|
|
#
?
Apr 25, 2021 11:46
|
|
|
You wait a beat, and then agree to the invitation. You don't bring up Paprika yet, and you sure as hell don't flash your hand scar. Just go smooth. That whole exchange went well, and you're only down one bullet. Shattyshot smiles, which looks weird after all of his frowning. The clown wipes himself down ineffectually, and motions for you to follow. He leads you west, causing you to tense up in anticipation of a comment on the dissipating smoke. But the old clown doesn't even bother to look around, fiddling his nose with shotgun slung over his shoulder. He takes you up to the northwest apartment buildings. There's no front door you find- where there should be one, there's blank wall and a deformity in the architecture. The old clown assures you though, saying "Nahhhaah. It's here. See? Like a circus door; there's a hole here."  Oh. There's... one of those big vent tubes, covered with vines, going into the building. You hesitate, but the clown climbs inside without worry. You scurry after, trying to keep an escape route in mind, and end up climbing down a small drop into a pile of plant matter. Shattyshot leads you further inside, revealing an underground area made up of dirt piles, scaffolding tunnels, wood boards, metal debris, and a consistent overgrowth of little green vines. "Nohown, now this ain't Paradise, but you, you'll like this place, above this level We used to live here before we were confirmed, we all us did. Was a good year, miss it. Ssshsso, just watch your step since we have lots of garbage still around from projects." You remain untalkative while trying to assess risk, eyes flitting around. You notice how bizarre the interior seems compared to the outside. Here and there are different kinds of architecture intersecting; dark medical metal surfaces, as well as dullgloss stones of pastel colors. Event Log posted:While passing through a large dirt room, Shattyshot gets ahead of you. You linger for a moment to look at a tree, taken in by how transparent its leaves are. The cloud-covered light casts green shadows over the ground that distract you enough that you almost don't notice them start to move. You step back and look up, but that's what it was expecting. While it distracts you with slow-moving vines crawling across the tree, fast-moving ones manage to worm out of the loose dirt and sneak their way into your socks. You feel soft leaves tense to razor-sharpness, worming into your skin. It's reflex. You feel your skin sting from being stabbed, and see the vines gathering around your shoes. You kneel and grab into the dirt to pull up a bundle of the plant matter, dipping your right hand through the celestial to scoop out a scalding handful of ichor. The vines react quickly, pulling out and retreating to root. You hop and dash out of the room after the clown, who turns to knowingly ask "Did the plants getcha?" You lean against the wall and glare at him. Yes, you tell him. He nods and explains "That's a sorry. They weren't like that a week ago. Just keep near, it's better topside." HP: [ 18 / 21 ] FP: [ 22 / ▓14 ] ANXIETY: [ X ][ X ][30%] You force yourself to keep your cool. The damage is minimal, so you smear the last of the ichor onto the leaf-wound to cleanly cauterize it. Shattyshot stumbles along the basement of the complex, through more scaffold tunnels and plant-claimed patches of skylight dirt. He takes a few hard turns and near-pratfalls trying to remember the safe ways, and snaps his suspenders when he finds an escalator.  "There there. Safety. Thissis, uuuhhh..." he waves his arm and loses his train of thought, allowing you to take a slow climb up the stairs in some peace. He stops at the top, suddenly sure of his memory as he watches some trail down an overhang of moss. "This wassah, our first. This was the first place we lived, when we started to learn about our blessings. All of us. The the, our, we were here waiting to know where the holy places were gonna be. We were learning who we really are now. I- you know it used to kind of wonderful, everyone all together, not off to the corners yet. I-" He seems to realize who he's talking to, that being you. He looks around, and points to another stairwell that has the unexpected glow of colored lights. "See? Up in here. The spshspace, space where we all lived. A lotta it is still good, you'll see. We weren't used to it yet, our everythin' holy." He stretches his arms with a great big frown, snorting loudly before he escorts you into the neon light. There's a color in him, reflected off the Silver Mind. It's that awful grayblue shade. His heart tinged with a kind of loneliness that comes from the hope of sharing hurt and history with someone who wasn't a part of its mythos. It makes you uncomfortable to be around, but softens your tension just enough to find yourself agreeing that you should entertain your in with the enemy.  It's not what you expect, and that doesn't let up. Dusty marble halls of neon light and glass displays filled with what the clown tells you are "the first expressions". One is filled with a bleak-blue water, black sand, and oil clumps. The next has a simple white robe hanging from a string; it's stained with black, red, green, and sap. Then a display of mummified painted flesh arranged in the shape of a tree. It keeps going like this, sometimes with truly fantastical displays, other times hard-minimalist. You look, though you don't feel a lot about the works. You make the effort to be polite, and it wins you Shattyshot winding you past dozens of store-like spaces, all of them filled with the dusty remnants of countless art projects, work stations, and makeshift living spaces. Event Log posted:So many workplaces and living spaces. You trail through and past many of them while following the clown, and get plenty of chances to swipe something. There's gotta be something good to grab... The clown, who you catch in the middle of an awkward cartwheel, points out a few spots. "Swhswhere I was. The uhhh... top bunk, there was a lot of beds there before, after the burn sisters went to the garden house." - he points out a few more living spaces and incomplete pieces, but nothing interesting; he just seems happy to show the place off. It only gets good again when he takes you into a backhall door, leading to a dimly lit corridor of brick with a ceiling of dark metalwork. "Even, uhh, before we had the hand in the change, in changing this place, it was already an amalgam." Amalgam? That's... (IQ: Remember...) 10 - [4]+[1]+[5] = 10 - Success! You think back to the boat. You remember what he was telling you about the world you found yourself awoken into. Oh, there, indistinct is his face in your third eye, saying... The Chicken Boy posted:"The whole world is like this. Nobody knows how big or far it goes. Patchwork pieces from all the everything before. Building here, peninsula there, fractal forest patch up on one hill, crystal magnetic patch down the road from it. All mashed together. Sometimes?" And it's gone from thought. Can't recall more. But yeah, yeah you get it now. Amalgam building, of God knows what all layered together inside the same shellspace. So there's no telling what's going to be found in each room. You keep your third eye gently closed, still sensitive to stressing it again before really needing it. The clown shows off a store front converted into a lobby, lit in cool neons and filled with house plants. He motions at the stairs, yawning while he twists his nose.  The top level has a pair of steel elevator doors without buttons; instead there's a plain lavender intercom with a phone as well as small enchanted crystal, plus additional tech installs that look unusual. Shattyshot walks up to it and picks up the receiver, waiting with his exaggerated frown. A voice says something on the other end, to which the clown says "don't hang", waits for the voice to respond, before he finishes with "bang bang". He waits again, and then asks "Hey, whoshzhs up there right now? ...ayuh. Hey, prep for some guest. Ynnh? Ok. See you." There's a ringing noise, and the elevator lights up to show it's called the car down. The clown turns around and loses his frown, more lucid than before as he addresses you. "It's good news. Fire Joker is doing her doin', but we got me, Pax is in the bathrooms like always, then we got two others joining us for lunch. Come on!" The elevator doors open. You hide your anxiety. Have to keep the cool you remembered earlier - handle these superstars. Just an easy lunch. New face in town. You wonder who the two others will be.
|
|
#
?
Apr 26, 2021 04:21
|
|
|
Hodgepodge posted:is Radiance an element or just a fancy way of saying nuclear? Radiance is a byproduct of the Nuclear-Element and a handful of other rare elements, as well as many Mythos entities. It's also known more formally as the 'Light of the God'.
|
|
#
?
Apr 26, 2021 04:24
|
|
|
Is anyone else compelled to deduce what the full spread of elemental combinations turns into or is that just me?
|
|
#
?
Apr 26, 2021 05:50
|
|
|
Black August posted:Radiance is a byproduct of the Nuclear-Element and a handful of other rare elements, as well as many Mythos entities. It's also known more formally as the 'Light of the God'. ah, its keter. the real thing, not the spc designation.
|
|
#
?
Apr 26, 2021 07:13
|
|
|
Rubix Squid posted:Is anyone else compelled to deduce what the full spread of elemental combinations turns into or is that just me? out! out spirit of gygax! okay he probably didnt do the full map of elemental demiplanes
|
|
#
?
Apr 26, 2021 07:15
|
|
|
VOTING CLOSED - Guest Guess Spider Finger & The Bayroom Triplets - 4 Short Straw & Marvine Mall - 7 Bloodshop & Midnight Slack - 16 LOADING...  ...LOADING
|
|
#
?
Apr 26, 2021 20:33
|
|
|
Heart attack flash sounds like something straight out of JoJo. I'm sure it has no weaknesses whatsoever.
|
|
#
?
Apr 26, 2021 21:47
|
|
|
Guess nobody wanted to talk to ol' arachno phalanges.
|
|
#
?
Apr 27, 2021 04:21
|
|
|
 The Final Night Inside The Lost End posted:Judging by how hard she banged into her desk, Miss Bella clearly didn't see or hear you come in. You'd feel bad about startling her, but you're emotionally spent to a degree that's left you numb. So you just lean on the door and wait for her to stop laughing off her nerves. She shakes a finger. "You! Do you have any idea how hard it is to scare me like that?"
|
|
#
?
Apr 27, 2021 05:13
|
|
|
So, uh, if I'm understanding this correctly, both Bella and Crocell came from the same person before the world got screwed up. Then they sort of got split up and now, while they share the same past pre-Fall, they are different people. Also, Crocell is a demon in the Ars Goetia. I'd assume Bella is, too, since she said she commands 85 legions. I've taken a look and there's a demon named Beleth who commands that exact same number of legions. The similarity to the name Bella leads me to believe that she's actually this demon, or shares the name, at least. The emperor of Hell was mentioned to be a witch so I think we could have a match here. Possibly. Did the person who used to be Bella split into the entire Goetia? That would be nuts. We've also heard how the world is actually an amalgam of places getting jumbled up. I'm guessing the same could have happened to people as well, which is a possible clue to why we have (or had) multiple people inside a single body. Also this latest vision is called "The Final Night Inside The Lost End". Which makes me wonder if these visions we've been seeing come really from a Holy End timeline or if it's just another Lost End where things went a little less catastrophically. Or maybe, since all we've seen up to this point seems to indicate that the past is as mutable as the future in this plane, it's actually both. Grond fucked around with this message at 11:33 on Apr 27, 2021 |
|
#
?
Apr 27, 2021 09:22
|
|
|
Interesting. Partial collapse of causality, perhaps? What came before no longer is certain, nor is what comes after. It's a mixed bag; knowing the end isn't predetermined can be a relief if you weren't fond of it before, but it also opens the potential for endings both worse and bizarre. "Grasp the world-threads by the skein, try your luck at the fates own game." An open invitation to the powers-that-be to alter events on an unprecedented scale, even if they don't know why it's on offer. Small wonder the world is in the state it is. Finding the exact cause of such won't be easy; by it's nature it could be long since past or yet to begin in the distant future. But knowing the color of a soul, well. Now that's a clue we can work with; a world-thread of our own we can follow on our own time. If we want to, of course. Nothing says the originally fated end was good, only that it was known. Or was. Perhaps we might one day try our hand at breaking destiny as well?
|
|
#
?
Apr 27, 2021 09:44
|
|
|
|
| # ? Jun 5, 2024 20:36 |
|
|
Arcanuse posted:Or was. Perhaps we might one day try our hand at breaking destiny as well? Considering all known oneruns have ended up in failure, this might probably be necessary if we want to be able to succeed.
|
|
#
?
Apr 27, 2021 16:17
|
|