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Thanks, everyone. Was a bit late since I had a few shark water events of my own, but we're picking back up.
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Aug 26, 2022 20:31
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| # ? Jun 6, 2024 05:48 |
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A promise is a promise.
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Aug 26, 2022 20:31
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We will deliver the mail
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Aug 26, 2022 20:52
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Neither rain, or snow, nor
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Aug 26, 2022 21:09
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https://pbfcomics.com/comics/post-apocalyptic/ Frankly I'm embarrassed that there are votes for the other options 
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Aug 26, 2022 22:10
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we set out with the Intent to deliver that letter and by 8th lord we're gonna loving deliver that letter
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Aug 27, 2022 03:27
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...I was going to comment about this being a bad idea but actually it's seriously not? Especially considering that IIRC there was something about needing to destroy all nests to get Doubler and also the nests having really good loot.
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Aug 27, 2022 03:30
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VOTING CLOSED - Deliveratty Go get the letter to Beach Bae at the westside nest. - 31 Screw that! Find her again later to deliver it. - 3 Ask if you can just leave it at the treehouse for her to come get. - 1 LOADING...  ...LOADING
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Aug 27, 2022 08:03
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Absolutely amazing juxtaposition between text and image. Shopcat will murder your soul.
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Aug 27, 2022 10:29
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We must do all in our power to keep Shopcat appeased.
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Aug 27, 2022 16:56
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I wonder if there's an in-game Smiercia-enforced limit to "chances missed", since that's a thing that's tracked on our character sheet--i.e., if you've already run into a given Lord X number of times, you either kill them on the X+1st time or Smiercia shows up to scythe your sorry soul to shreds. Or I guess it could be cumulative--meet *any* Lord X number of times, the next Lord you meet better die before you leave, or Smiercia will get alliterative on your rear end. I don't recall seeing anything in the Blue Book about that (just the time limit), but it certainly seems like a possible game mechanic. If memory serves, we had two "missed chances" before we slayed Bleeder, so if there's a per-Lord limit, we won't hit it on our second encounter with Doubler even if we don't slay Doubler this time around. (I'm not sure we're in great shape for that... the Cthugan Fireworks might be potent against a bunch of closely-bunched nests, but we would need to get Beach Bae out of the way first, and I'm not sure she'd be willing to cooperate in order to let us, uh, end Doubler's suffering permanently. Though at least we're at full HP, and we do have that still-fully-loaded Art of the Dead Cat to help us on HT death checks if need be, so maybe we're capable as long as there aren't too many nests around...) (It appears that Smiercia's pet cat, equally merciless, has taken a job at MC&D store in order to buy extra kitty treats and catnip. Woe to all would-be shoplifters! And possibly also woe to anyone who walks out without buying anything...)
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Aug 27, 2022 19:12
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PepperedMoth posted:I wonder if there's an in-game Smiercia-enforced limit to "chances missed", since that's a thing that's tracked on our character sheet--i.e., if you've already run into a given Lord X number of times, you either kill them on the X+1st time or Smiercia shows up to scythe your sorry soul to shreds. Did Smercia bitch at us before or after the incident with momma fireswamp? Because that's where we met Bleeder the first time.
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Aug 28, 2022 00:52
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taiyoko posted:Did Smercia bitch at us before or after the incident with momma fireswamp? Because that's where we met Bleeder the first time. I checked back on page 20, and when our protagonist meets Śmiercią after after glitching away from Momma Fireswamp... quote:"It's been one week." Śmiercią doesn't seem to consider whether the protagonist actually knew (or reasonably could know) that they met a Lord, or whether they'd have had any shot of actually winning (because Heaven knows the protagonist wouldn't have been a match for Red and Blue back at camp), just that the protagonist came into contact with a Lord and the Lord walked away from it.
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Aug 28, 2022 01:57
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[Doubler, Doubler... always doing it, and then doing it again. The arc of the beach hadn't gone at all like expected, but it had gone clean considering how deathclose the character was. The fact that constantly low HP hasn't been the norm this onerun so far has been a luxury. But then came the dread of allowing Beach Bae to hang around for so long, especially when Backup relations are this friendly; she'd run into Doubler and begin one of the many Events that could come out of it. Too many to track; the time of day, the phase of the moon, what day of the month, which month, which part of the beach, how Backup relations are, how many Lords dead so far, how many visits to the Mountain... on and on and on for those little variations with each meeting that add up into the living nightmare of one of the Mightiest Three. This permutation had been merciful; while newborn Doublers were evilly dangerous, they were fragile and easy to escape. Beach Bae's Deadly Calming of the Lord also went the distance in helping to run away from the beachbirth event. What didn't make immediate sense was the auto-slaying; the character didn't have Ratslaying, innately or in equipment, as far as could be seen. Was there some interaction happening? The game was bleeding sick full of synergies and drawdowns, an upsetting number of which didn't show up without one specific of any of the dozens upon dozens of identification methods available, both intuited and intentional. One of the real joys of successfully reaching Paradise was managing to wrench a full-blue wish out of it for 'Clear Knowledge Of Self', revealing every interaction happening within and without the character.] [But there were no wishes right now. Although, something weirdly wishlike had happened. The midnight terror had ended with a passout at the Beach House, waking to Spiderfinger about to enter combat until she went to Friendly. For some reason, Shark Water's pale red @ had been clipping through her dialogue bubbles, but vanished when the talk ended. The character puked six times in succession, immediately stabilized, and a status check showed a full default restore, as well as the Vampire Parasite being in the best mood. The pass through the Blacklit Beach also caught up, since the fungus is in the Supermagic Mushrooms state and the ride hasn't even hit the peak yet. The Silver Mind has already used up most of its overcharge, but it might have a few more procs left. What will this Nest be like? What will Beach Bae's mood be? Which kind of Doublers might evolve? More of the Least? Pulling Apart? Tailed King? Bonebrux? Calcaedian? Weeping?] [But first, there was one thing to resolve before the quick trip to the southern deathwish. Play To Off seems Friendly, and that means she wants to ask about field.]
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Aug 28, 2022 15:37
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Black August posted:Beach Bae's Deadly Calming of the Lord also went the distance in helping to run away from the beachbirth event. The game was bleeding sick full of synergies and drawdowns, an upsetting number of which didn't show up without one specific of any of the dozens upon dozens of identification methods available, both intuited and intentional. One of the real joys of successfully reaching Paradise was managing to wrench a full-blue wish out of it for 'Clear Knowledge Of Self', revealing every interaction happening within and without the character. Black August posted:What didn't make immediate sense was the auto-slaying; the character didn't have Ratslaying, innately or in equipment, as far as could be seen. Was there some interaction happening? Black August posted:But there were no wishes right now. Although, something weirdly wishlike had happened. The midnight terror had ended with a passout at the Beach House, waking to Spiderfinger about to enter combat until she went to Friendly. For some reason, Shark Water's pale red @ had been clipping through her dialogue bubbles, but vanished when the talk ended. But this is interesting. I think the Backup use the power of Wish in Paradise through Alma (who I'm pretty sure must be the Liaison for the Blackwings, locked inside the Paradise megalith). Possibly Dancer also has this power as well? And if Holy End interference appears similar to Wishing... Hell maybe that's how Wishing works. Maybe it is a Holy power in itself, interfering between timelines for favorable outcomes. This is a reach though, we aren't even close to seeing Alma and we haven't even seen how Wishing works, but, something to keep in mind I guess. Black August posted:[But first, there was one thing to resolve before the quick trip to the southern deathwish. Play To Off seems Friendly, and that means she wants to ask about field.] Might as well:   Guess we're playing some baseball next time. Grond fucked around with this message at 19:39 on Aug 28, 2022 |
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Aug 28, 2022 19:08
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i mean i don't see us fighting her but it's interesting she's wielding a bit which is cursed to miss all/most of the time yet she nails a homer every time she's at-bat i think it's good we're not really in a position to fight her lol i'm betting that the gamer is seeing the narrative play out and is hitting "the right moves" to match it, but mostly in the sense of a kid w/ a controller that's not plugged in thinking they're kicking rear end while watching their older sib play. so idk if \we met, like, Holy End Shark Water (although that's a def. possibility too) so much as the game code wasn't able to properly interpret and display the event that happened
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Aug 28, 2022 19:59
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quote:i mean i don't see us fighting her but it's interesting she's wielding a bit which is cursed to miss all/most of the time yet she nails a homer every time she's at-bat quote:idk if \we met, like, Holy End Shark Water (although that's a def. possibility too) so much as the game code wasn't able to properly interpret and display the event that happened Grond fucked around with this message at 20:20 on Aug 28, 2022 |
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Aug 28, 2022 20:18
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Man, yeah, our kingdom for a good ol' ! of Self Knowledge
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Aug 29, 2022 07:06
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I feel sorry for BA's typing fingers if we somehow get around to wishing for "zenhellend.fandom.com/wiki"
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Aug 29, 2022 08:32
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Razakai posted:I feel sorry for BA's typing fingers if we somehow get around to wishing for "zenhellend.fandom.com/wiki" I mean, as murky as things can be at times, I'm sure there's still enough material already written to start one?
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Aug 29, 2022 11:35
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Antivehicular posted:Man, yeah, our kingdom for a good ol' ! of Self Knowledge I'm certain that would cause the game to not only hardlock, but also cause the computer to burst into flames.
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Aug 29, 2022 11:41
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ba just starts posting google drive links of the .doc files for the posts
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Aug 30, 2022 00:04
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Hey! Thanks for the patience. Ran into some life problems and work reschedules and had to step away. We're going to pick back up again tonight once I get back home from work.
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Sep 7, 2022 20:09
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We’re here f5ing for ya!!
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Sep 7, 2022 20:15
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 Nah nah. Think about it; now think again. It makes sense to just roll down and get the letter in while the ba- Beach Bae. While she's able to keep the ra- Doubler, calm. They're always here, aren't they? Lords, mighty mighty, in these lands blessed cultic. Of course of course, Doubler. You just need to- "Singer?" They've been trying to get your attention. Act with the smooth, and not with the death-intent. You're upright in your nook seat while you dust off some wolf fur you sat on. You nod and say that you figure you'll head down and drop the letter off like promised. They seem to reach for concern, but then it bleeds down over their eyes; that lack of safe, which looks at you and sees 'EXPENDABLE' and sees 'CONVENIENCE' and sees 'OUTSIDER'. Good. Good. You need them to think that, and you need them to think it twice. All so you can fade with your Singer's sweet into the obscure, far outside of their accusation and paranoia. Just a tourist... just here to help... "Cool. That's nice of you. Shop'n'Bae have had it hard lately. Since Blee-" You grip your skull with ache while the cult couple suddenly scurries out of their seats. What is that? It's familiar, and there's this weird ringing going through the tips of your silvered neurons. Music? OST: JC-TV Jingle JC-TV posted:GOOD! good lord that's loud JC-TV posted:It's tha bird boy, JC, with the morning fix of JC-TV! Can I get an all-call? FROM TRUE BLUE JAN CREW! FROM FAM OUT IN THE LAND! FROM ALL THOSE STILL LISTENING DOWN IN PARADISE! heaven please turn off the volume your skull is shuddering JC-TV posted:YOUR RAT-TOP-HAT NEWS - day in day out, you wait because Paradise is what it's all about! The Pilgrimage has passed through the burning lands, meaning we are so very close to the day that our Megalith unlocks and welcomes us all back! Stay safe until then! Let's have some music. Ow that h- hu? It's already over? What was with his weird tone? The cult couple look grouchy as they gather around the radio sound; a bulky ovoid-shape machine riddled with wires, cables, and crystals, all of it desperate to catch in the signals sent out. It plays some tinny music in slowed slur, struggling to keep the signal clear. But why are these two so let down? Quiet speak reveals, as you strain your damaged ears and PSI. The tall one in silkwrap, what is she lamenting? "Nothing! Not a word. Why would he?" The small one in ballcap, what is she ruing? "Because Dancer told him to keep quiet. Or Hunter. That's why. Bleeder is dead and Burner probably did it and they're breaking trust not telling us why." Spiderfinger makes a very quiet noise that disturbs the heart, and draws away to go further around the counter with a ballgown sway of unpracticed anxiety. You keep low and cram spare food into your maw while you listen on. "I don't believe that! Why would any of us turn after what we went through?! How does that make any sense??" To Play's credit, she recognizes the distress and grabs the other woman's slender hand to encase it with care, and they share a stare. Both seem to realize at once that, wait, you're still here, and you're not Backup. There's a pause as they check to see if you noticed, but you're acting like nothing doing. Both drop their nerves and come back ready to sublimate their fears into something else. Play leans on the table with a fixed stare. "Hey. Singer. You want to Field with us for a bit before you go? Good wakeup exercise." You swirl through the mushrooms to peek a sneak at your memory. Field? What's field? You notice Play's demeanor change, this birdy-lean woman suddenly intense as she reaches down to grab a baseball and spin it in her hand. "Field is something that hates me and doesn't want people like me on it. So I play to off, every day, to prove it's wrong and that I'll be there longer than anyone. Want to help me prove it today? It's real fun." You stand and crack your mushroom-smoothed joints, shrugging a nod. Sure. You figure it can't take so long that you can't swing south and then back up before dark. Spiderfinger is still leaning over with worry, but she quickly warms up into Play's enthusiasm as it enflames. You ask, uh, how exactly do you play field? You point at the bat and baseball, finger bobbing with your fungal swirlsight. Play actually smiles and says, "Yeah! Baseball. That's just one of the cover names for Field, but, does that mean you know the game?" You laugh nervous and wave your hands negative as you all descend the ladder down to the treehouse bottom. No, uhm, you've heard of the game, but you never actually saw it or played it. It's, sticks, hitting balls with the sticks! Right? The bats. Spiderfinger is smiling at you and you can't place what it means. Play seems genuinely impressed for how little she expresses. "That's right. That's Field. See it there, waiting with its aggressive paints?" She points out to the weird field you slept in the night before, the enclosed one with the wire fencing and the white lines marked in squares. You look, and nod. Yuh. "That's the war face. The waiting hate-face. The grass-clove-dead face. We're going to Field, and we're going to make it regret secluding its power. You in, Singer?" You're starting to mushroom hard here, so you just nod and thumbs-up like it's nothing. Makes sense. What the hell is baseball?? You can't remember. Something... The Dark posted:
...mmmnnnnnmm. Roll with it. Just roll with it for God's sake, while you can still move so flowfree outside of your anxiety. Too much psilosoothe dumped into your bones for them to lock up now. So you walk out to Field, crunching your tired calcium and ready to take on the worst thing imaginable: The Athletic Social. Alright. Okay. Sure thing. Take it away. You look back and see Spider leaning over the fence with a fond smile for Play, while she swings her bat a few times and then rolls her neck to look at you with consideration. She's settling into something now, with an aura that hackles your spine right up into the air from rear end to crown. You hunch to soothe the shakes, arms stretched dangling while you size the cultist up. Look at her walking now. There's a swagger there, and you know now the bird has trapped you. The mushrooms, shape-charge strong! They make you smile and shiver thinking about a team of baseball chickens, and their powerful traps for unwary predators. You need to pay respect to it, right? You shake your head again, realizing you're maybe a little too high on the job, but you can't really stop it. That thought doesn't make any sense anyways; you're playing baseball with a bird and a spider! You pay attention again, worried about how long you've been swirled, but it's only been two seconds, and then two again. Play's aura is nearly tangible. You can feel it inside the magic of the diamond, the silver of your mind. The Field is filled with something too evil to put to penned paper, but she's fierce with her gift to overcome its loathing of her incursion and her love of what it greedily withholds. What's going on? She's being so casual and cool about it now, all fun and games. Can you hear cheering crowds on the sullen wind? She's pointing. At you. At we? You, and me? Sure. You wave. She states. "Rule Play Three. I star bat first, you throw. Then I'll throw, you star bat. You only diamond dash if it clears the grassline and hits sand. My mine will be empire. Fair?"  ... Sure. Yes. Absolutely. Right. So you need to throw the ball. She's tossing it over to you and walking to the main white square, where the fence rises with caging ruin. Think. In this game, sticks hit the ball? So you need to throw the ball so she can stick it. But, wait! Wait. Think, thick with the soothe of morning dark clouds and the warm embrace of fungus around the bones. Your shoe'd feet are dragging over grass dead green with hate and you nod as if it makes sense. Just play to off. Easy easy. So you take place at the center plate, and watch as Play moves to raise her cursegloss bat at the front plate. You just need to throw. Over by the fence where she empires, Spiderfinger sets up the radio to eat signal and give the play some Jandoubi sonics. You wiggle your legs and square up. Play's aura is disgusting. It's crushing with pressure, making you sweat, forcing nerves into the action of the arms. You realize what you're in for, standing on this war-painted hatefield, holding a sphere of destruction while waiting for the birdy-lean to take her place. She's speaking, now. She's telling you the truth. "Don't hold back. Throw as hard as you can. Make me Strike." Right. Respect her, for the sake of the Field. You blink and realize how far out you are mentally, fighting your way back in to the swirled reality of what's taking place. It's time to throw, and you need to throw until off. So,  (ST - THROW!!) 25 - [5]+[5]+[4] = 14 - Success [By 11]. (DX - But Throw Clean) 11 - [2]+[6]+[3] = 11 - Success [By 3]. You stare down, spin the ball up, grab it through the rainbow swirl, jump back a little, hup on one leg, and suddenly lean down as an unexpected reflex thunders through your flesh. Of course of course. There's no time to think about it; much less think twice. But you know how much your sphere of destruction feels like the unholy terror-love of a thrown grenade. You block out the thunder of tank fire and boogeyman screams, feeling it melt to nonsense and into the image of Nyx flapping her tank hatch, and you smile because you wonder if she can fire baseballs. But does the ball Strike? You look with fungal-slown eyes as Play stoops. The bat glints darkwood. One eye stank with pierce, jaw squared tight, fury fury in her pale pale. The ball is going so much faster than she expected of you, but that's the limits she begs to break; she took Casey's dare and won, and she won't stop until every legend is merely a footnote under her reign. She knows she can do this because her suffering of the Island led to these lands and the final realization of the ultimate batting technique. HER technique. Her skill. Her power over Field. 「The Kota Homerun」 How is she moving like that? Blueshift true. How is she swinging so hard? Redshift dead. Over what does her colourlights reign? Greenshift field. The ball all-white takes the strike, and there's the most enchanting sound of Casey's bat crushing into dead leather with hatred; like a wooden bell warm-crackling open a thick cloud. You barely follow the ball as it whistles high into graysky, and then half-catch Spiderfinger suffering a split-second change of behavior. She grabs the fence, rattles it like a convict, and gnashes her teeth with a screamed "YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" Huh? Did she just yell that? You blink and forget from the distraction of Play staring at you with that bland careless, never breaking it as she jogs down the lines and makes a full round. She swaggers a little standing-slide at the end, dipping to sling up her bat. Her voice has a lil', just a LIL' heat in it now. "I didn't let the Field have the ball. It doesn't deserve it. They all need to be sent outside of it so it can starve. Oh, and good throw, Singer. I got a diamond so now you're star to bat." Intellectually and psychically you know that you should be anxious-grouchy right now, but her face is gently waterfalling if you look at it for too long without blinking, so you decide survival means deadfocusing on just being able to play before your arms go limp and you have to noodle around like a cat. No way! You'd look so silly they'd never let you come back, and Ulthar would be cross. So, with tremendous confidence, you smile and salute while you drag out your sword and pip-pap over to the plate. Play looks confused for a second, but then she reconsiders and just rolls with your choice of 'bat'. You grip it to be flatways swung, swaying hard to the music as it creeps into your brain's backdoor and tries to make you have fun. Play slowsteps over to the fence to be given a basket of baseballs by Spiderfinger, and the two share an intense and bright look before she swaggers one touch harder back to the plate. Basket drops. Her back turned. One hand bears gauntlet; a brilliant catch glove made from all four dragon hides, riot with blue, red, yellow, green. She smashes a ball into it six times, and then she asks, still not looking, if you're ready for Strike. You inhale to say ye- (Play To Off - !Field) 20 - [1]+[4]+[3] = 8 - Success [By 12]. OH GOD REACT REACT (DX - HIT!!) 11 - [4]+[5]+[2] = 11 - Exact Success. (ST - But Hit Hard) 25 - [5]+[4]+[6] = 15 - Success [By 10]. The kinetics happen without thought. The sword, slung, turned, swung. A body-shaking CRACK from the surgical force of the ultrathrow impacting the unbreaking stone. Your body a vile twist of pure counterforce. You lean and fall from the swing, arms hurting fierce, but you laugh it off and stand back up to watch as the ball sails high, high high, and surely it'll go out of the field to deny it the meal and-  (Play To Off - !Field) 20 - [1]+[2]+[3] = 6 - Great Success [By 14]! Play snapturn looks at the sky where the ball is going to be, but she does it before you've even finished the followthrough of the swing! How?! She's running. The ball is sailing but she's already raced it, tearing up soil with the diamond speed, body a birdy rocket of mathematics you feel nauseous trying to imagine. With her gift she's high-leap in the air and effortlessly grabbing the ball. She crashes to the ground into a cleanroll sit, menacing with careless bravado. Is that the pinpoint of a smile? But you forget and jump when Spiderfinger starts to go wild, no missing it this time. She grabs the fence, rattles it, kicks it, screaming lunatic cheer. "YEAH! YEEEEEEEAH! NO CHANCE! gently caress THEM UP! OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT!" Her armored hand casually shreds up some of the fence metal, and she doesn't seem at all concerned you're seeing this; her eyes are only for Play. The two keep starelocked while the harpy slow-swaggers back to plate, and you stand there once again realizing that this would be eating your nerves alive if you weren't currently suffocating under enough magic spores to choke a Pluto. So, now what? Oh no, what if she has to kill you because of this? Or sacrifice you to Field? Or- "Sorry, Singer. Clean hit but I had to see if I could pull off a pitch run out. You can't star bat now but you can star throw. Want to give it one more and see?" (IQ - Is That A Good Idea?) 10 - [4]+[3]+[34] = 11 - *sloshy gas noises* Nope, the mushrooms are clogging up your neuron signals. You throw it aside and figure you may as well have one last throw to keep them both happy, and that it's safe to do so. You need to hurry it up, mostly because you feel something coming down the Fungus Freeway that sounds like a freight train and feels like colourstorms. Storms... wait a second. Is the sky growing darker? It kind of is, but in weird patchy spots. Huh. You can't look for too long, since the sky starts to jiggle and drip too fractal for you to not feel dizzy. You stumble to the plate and nearly flinch-drop from the ball being hucked over, the same one you cracked to sky. Kind of a fun game, really. Okay. Strong arm. Wind, and try to throw it right through the voidspace. (ST - THROW!!) 25 - [4]+[3]+[4] = 11 - Success [By 14]. (DX - But Throw Sharp) 11 - [2]+[5]+[5] = 11 - Failure By 1! You got it! You got it right down the line, and surely she can't- 「The Kota Homerun」 Again, her math is simply too strong. With a single shift of her foot, she moves into the perfect swing to connect, revealing your error in the throw. There's thunder, and- and she doesn't move. The bat doesn't move. The ball doesn't move. What? You blink and shake your head, wondering if you're fully hallucinating. But then Spiderfinger shouts, and you look to her and see her metal arm twisting strange while she holds onto the fence. What's happening? You look back just in time to see Play collapse, the ball flying straight up while her bat flies off to the right where it lodges into the fence. Your body reacts through the fungal soft, slamming to ground and gripping it right as you feel it ripple through you with molasses-wave slow.  Gravity. You feel yourself tug-torn, curling to hold desperate to your pack and blade as parts of you try to skip up into the sky, or roll over the fields. You feel your intent spike black down from your crown in response, equalizing you as you press up into a deep stooping kneel. Think! What's happening?! Gravity, washing over you ocean-slow like pudding, a thousand tiny claws plucking and pulling in little microcurrents of zero resistance... because something is pushing it! Which means something is coming this way!! The mushrooms flare out and send a signal, begging the Silver Mind to remember the night of the great psionic kite. That clouding! That blanket-logic trick of the mindgap! Again! (PSI Clouding ɑ) 13 [5]+[4]+[4] = 13 - Success. Lie down flat. Pull Red's mercy over you tight, head to shoe. Grip on hard. Inhale, over and over, hypervent. Then push it all out. Go deadflat. Grip. Grip. There. The sky, keening. That terrible pressure. But it's so much closer this time! It's passing above, passing mere dozens of feet above!! You blank your mind and relax. You mustn't look. Don't look, don't think to what's above. Inhale the scent of warpaint grass, and let it pass. ...yes, it's gone, but it's not safe yet. Wait. Wait. Peek out, slow. SLOW! The gravity has pulled you apart for a second, mushrooms and silver and dark all tumbling around while they conspire to peek. It's so quiet... the wind is gone. Slow slow, do not move more than a single finger and a single eye. Where is Play? Collapsed and not moving. Spider? The same, her metal arm caught in the mangled fence. Wait. Wait. ANXIETY: [...] Play is moving! It's safe. Get up. Quickly. The swirls have come back down stronger than before now, and you watch your footsteps deform the grass with liquidy glass. Flow with it. Hurry over. Is she wounded? No, just boggled. Brainliquids sloshed by a gravityslap. You help pull her up as she mutters, "Burner, are you ok?" You freeze at the name, but then without noticing the baserunner takes off with a wave to come help Spiderfinger. She's there well before you, careful to hold her head up cradled to see the damage. But she got lucky too. You both extradite her arm, and help to lean her into Play's arms while she sits down outside the field. Her demeanor is loosed, and there's someone who is confused and scared speaking to you. "Hey, Singer, you should scram for now. Hunter is PISSED. Get that letter down to Bae and then get back up here. It's a bad sky." Hunter?! Was that- you walk back, noticing your heart thundering from the shock. You glance back at the growing dark patches of the sky, and tell Play it was a good game before you take off with terrified energy. Every anxiety you can't feel through the fungus is feeding into your run, a swirling sweat-drip that makes you wonder how much you might vomit today. Sure, survive yesterday, sleep outside, meet some strangers, play a game, promise to postal, find out a Lord is a rat, and then it's a rat again. So you come back to the beach. You run across the hilltop, refusing to step down into the sands, eyes scanning for the motion of a rat twofold. But it's clean. Not even a bloodstain or a bone. So it's the longhaul crawl among the scrubgrass, lonely worry trying to find traction inside of your rainbow-bubbled brain. You need to do something about your fungus; the raging overflow of magic and psychic inside the charged mushrooms needs to be force-focused into one or the other before you finally let them have their psiloways with you. https://i.imgur.com/3zah3Vv.mp4 But which one is better to let them vent into? Black August fucked around with this message at 22:01 on Sep 8, 2022 |
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Sep 8, 2022 07:55
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Gee singer! how come Smiercia lets you eat TWO mushrooms?
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Sep 8, 2022 08:33
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My vote was for psychic boost because I was like “PSI Clouding is going to be our best chance at getting past the nests” but I just realized…I think there’s a limit to that. Once they’re on us, they’re ON us. Our whalelung isn’t dependent on magic or psy, right?
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Sep 8, 2022 17:32
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I'm sure there's some hints in the blue book entries. But I didn't want to dig through that so I just voted for both.
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Sep 8, 2022 17:42
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FAT BATMAN posted:My vote was for psychic boost because I was like “PSI Clouding is going to be our best chance at getting past the nests” but I just realized…I think there’s a limit to that. Once they’re on us, they’re ON us. It is dependent on us not getting hurt... which is a bit of a tall order. Doubler's attacks do not need a roll to hit. But I don't think the entrance to the nest is inside the water anyway. quote:"Because Dancer told him to keep quiet. Or Hunter. That's why. Bleeder is dead and Burner probably did it and they're breaking trust not telling us why." Oh. Oooooooohhh. So that's why the Thundering King nearly broke our head in half at the Cultpartments. They think Burner killed Bleeder! We're cloaked from Hider and Hunter but they must've traced the magic of the Solar Veil. And because we're fused to it the Thundering King thought we were Burner... IIRC the Thundering King was a high ranking Sunburner so this might mean there is some division in their ranks because of this... Grond fucked around with this message at 18:26 on Sep 8, 2022 |
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Sep 8, 2022 18:15
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Either that, or Burner is the only one actually capable of killing Bleeder out of the 7 Lords. Nuclear Fire to cleanse cancerous growth.
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Sep 8, 2022 19:38
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If they're picking up on the veil, while we didn't *wear* it in our fight with Bleeder, it was with us even if we didn't have it equipped at the time
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Sep 8, 2022 20:50
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VOTING CLOSED - 101 Useful Brain Infections Magic Mushrooms. Empower all spells for the rest of the day. - 2 Psychic Fungals. Empower all psionics for the rest of the day. - 10 Let it go wild and fluctuate powering between the two, for however long it'll last for. - 10 LOADING...  ...LOADING
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Sep 8, 2022 21:37
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this is not a good time to have a 2-way tie!!!!!
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Sep 8, 2022 22:19
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I would have laughed if the two-way tie was between the two shrooms. Instead we get 75% super-psi, 25% super-magic?
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Sep 8, 2022 22:45
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Everything in moderation, including moderation.
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Sep 8, 2022 22:51
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Aabcehmu posted:Everything in moderation, including moderation.
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Sep 8, 2022 23:06
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Regallion posted:this is not a good time to have a 2-way tie!!!!! A 2-way tie, with the losing option getting 2 votes (for a total of 22 votes total), no less! I voted for Psi, myself... the Silver Mind is generally a decent voice of reason, and it's what allowed the protagonist to integrate the mushrooms in the first place. Guess we'll see what comes out of this particular tie. (And we still haven't seen what became of that Cat of Saturn after it escaped the murdertruck... wonder if the Cat's out hunting rats.)
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Sep 8, 2022 23:59
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 Three miles south under darkening fore-noon sky. That's the measure of your steps towards a LORD. Two legs walking two feet, while two arms swing two hands, leading two eyes looking for the signs of what could be twofold. Your mushrooms are splitting down the middle, rioting with itself between a flush of midnight rainbow psychics and Mana-soaked jade magics. The psychics are winning, spasming mad as you walk down the beachline and begin a scuttling limp. Your limbs are working together, but they're doing it with a second thought between each action, creating the comical dissonance of the left hand not knowing what the right is doing, or what it itself is doing for that matter. Who are we, in this moment? The fungus is too strong to be able to call down and let you know, a tower of shuddering colors dancing on your brainflesh. You giggle to yourself when you realize that you're completely hosed up bongo on spores, and you're willingly walking right towards a Lord! Rats rats rats, they hate cats cats cats. Where's a little kitten when you need one, to help you claw-paw open the ultimate infestation? You'll just have to longdraw a blackened blade, and let it do the claw claw job. But no, no! Shake out of the swirly spores! Pull out the letter, hold it up! This is what you need to fight towards. Place that first, small as it may be, upon the lineage of your intent. But behind it there is a monster crowned and dense, and it holds a little plush rat toy whose neck it chews. In mimicry unthinking, you pull out the rat tail you severed and gnaw on it rough, finding the flesh too hard to rip, giving you the satisfaction of an enraged muffled scream while you force your teeth to violently indent the disgusting flesh. Do you feel it, Doubler? You'll feel it twice; another long snarling mad-eyed maniachew. Will you scream, Doubler, when you're pinned to ground with blade, and your tail and ears and eyes are pried off? Your dual dual teeth torn from the sockets? Your little little toes broken and tied into meat-knots? You're galloping now, driven, swimming through the turbulent currents of the fungal overload as your psionics drum up a thoughtful storm of sensation overload. Everything is laser-focus-felt: sharp pale crystalline sands schrunshing under shoe and hands, dirty scrubgrass coughing out storms of miniature moth-likes, grostesque shadows flitting overhead as the skies continue to bruise and boil down into a bleak arrival of divine weather. The air is painful, great sharps of dry broken up by soggy whipwinds of salted moisture. You fall over and wrap yourself in Red's shroud, burrowing into some grasses and vine to spend five minutes perfectly still as your brain does backflips trying to equalize under the tremendous pressure of fungal release. The strange beach did so much to overfeed their psilospores! When you stand you spin around with gravity as you go, gently pulling up a small sand tornado that you send tumbling down the beachlong hill when you trip and roll. You get back up in cat-stance, hissing at the air's scent of something musty, wet, yellowed, meaty; you hiss again because you're smelling it twice. Right, Galen? The Silver Mind posted:"Infinite reflection. All of it shows a gorgeous wet violet blossoming neverending colorlines of neon warm. Mushroom, unable to fuse with fungicidal silver, but able to bounce psilosignals off of every smooth shiny surface, until all psychics speak fungal." brushes over your shoe, sniffing at the air before it limps away. It only has two limbs, with two toes, to guide its two tails and two torsos with two eyes and two noses. You force yourself to not react, which is easy when your brain is moving so stoplock go. When you do react, you smoothly draw blade and take stance, stalking with it aimed up held out. It's getting terribly dark now, with the inverse of earlier; the clouds are now a roiling smokey ink black ocean, split up by strangely bright carvelines of gray and light. The air keeps slicing with the alternate of itchy-dry to slimy-wet. Your vision is compromised, the darksight watery because of the bright patches, windpains, psychic superload, and mushroom dizzies. You spin and catch your foot and tumble directly down the hill, which takes you past a sweep of dunes and directly into swirlsight of what lies on the peninsula.  Your heart is fluttering with too many colours. The parasite is curled up frightened, warmed by fungus but suddenly so scared of what it knows is lurking near; the brush of ratfur haunts it. You're stumbling with sand-dragged sword and wide fungus eyes, taking in the terrible of it all, towering, towering. Is it the mushrooms alone that strangle your sight? No. It's the structure itself. Fractal mirage! Twigs. Stacked interlocked twice and twice. Twigs. Towering, towering. Careful little twohand placements made them fool fractal, spiraling downdone interlocking. Twigs. Wooden debris stained yellow and black, careful fluids gluing it all into that gigantic mass of interlocked to the second power. Twigs! Twos of millions of twigs, in a grotesque beach nest. You lean your head down and inhale long enough to make the horrible sight of it bearable, and in a weird way the mushrooms make it much easier to comprehend. The fractal nest shivers across its tremendity, and on the beach and base level you can see little deformed rats bumbling about with vacant peace. You approach with the swordslow, wobbling your head side to side with Sauber's hypnosis, waiting to see if they make the first move.  They don't. Seemingly. You even walk near one that's sort of sitting there and nibbling, and it doesn't flinch. Huh. What risks can be taken? The sky is starting to do something strange. The air is intense and the reek of the nest makes your body tremble. Twigs... twigs. Twigs.
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Sep 10, 2022 16:33
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13 is good odds on the ESP check, and going in will be much easier if we know where to look.
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Sep 10, 2022 17:27
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| # ? Jun 6, 2024 05:48 |
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I went with Silver Mind, I would have gone with clouding but I'm not sure how well that would work with Doubler's... doubles. Does the effect carry over to each copy made, or would we have to roll for each mouse? That's a lot of rolls to not gently caress up. Plus, y'know, that's assuming he doesn't just smell us.
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Sep 10, 2022 19:37
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