A dark room, one chair in the center of the floor. Jorick strapped down in front of a computer screen, his hands forced into position over a keyboard. On the computer, RPG’s site, Spam forum. Nothing but posts by Nat and clueless noobs posting Spiderman memes on the screen, no matter how many times it is refreshed. Posts about ponies, about random booger picking nonsense and political rants made by teens who gathered their opinions from Green Day songs and who think Che Guevara is the lead singer of Rage Against the Machine.
He must post, if he does not then he will be cut with a straight razor. The catch is he must say nice and fluffy things, no sense must be made in his writing, no point or sharp wit may be touched. All of it must be dull and dribble, nothing of consequence or concise clear thinking. If anything makes a bit of sense, he will be sliced.
Death is inevitable and he will die slowly, bleeding from countless cuts all over his body. His last visions of brony threads and a fierce frustration of not being able to make cut down the dumbasses with sharp, exacting words.
Originally Posted by Static