@Gurren1 Tell you what, we do have a Discord server linked in the first OOC post. You could join that, and then we can talk more about the situation in the server if you'd like. I may have been wrong about a lack of PC slots, but we may or may not need some time for an opportunity to come up, so we can talk about options for that if it interests you.
BCTheEntity
Member
m⊕r✞IS
STATUS: Harambant, who once went by Harambe, now only recalled in light of what followed. 6 mos ago
- Last Seen: 8 hrs ago
- Joined: 10 yrs ago
- Posts: 3013 (0.86 / day)
- VMs: 3
-
Username history
- BCTheEntity 10 yrs ago
-
Latest 10 profile visitors:
-
Most recent →
Fetzen,
Marik,
Rothurage,
Grijs,
Willy Vereb,
Phase,
gammaflux,
Gordian Nought,
Enigmatik,
pollo
Status
Recent Statuses
6 mos ago
Current
Harambant, who once went by Harambe, now only recalled in light of what followed.
1 yr ago
RAIN OF SPIDERS (SPIDERS spiders)
4
likes
3 yrs ago
It seems today, that all you see,
3 yrs ago
Holy Spirit Activate
1
like
3 yrs ago
Remember the indigenous people of the Americas today.
5
likes
Bio
Hello, I am me from the internet. I migrated here from Kongregate's Forum Games Forum, so feel free to look for me there if you wish to follow a career in internet stalking people. (ಠ_ಠ) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
A link to some of my past characters, which I need because static tabs do not take up internet.
“I really don’t follow how your faith believes its perfectly acceptable to doom 4,000 years plus of sentient beings, on a pre-set path of no escape from sin, just so their descendants can be offered the ‘chance of salvation’ when the god murders its own son.”
~vikaTae
“Don’t be an ass or a pussy, ’lest you get screwed by life. Being a mouth or a hand is somewhat safer, and an eye socket is pretty much sacred in this regard, so always keep a look out.”
~BCLEGENDS
A link to some of my past characters, which I need because static tabs do not take up internet.
Infamous Quotes From People Who Exist
“I really don’t follow how your faith believes its perfectly acceptable to doom 4,000 years plus of sentient beings, on a pre-set path of no escape from sin, just so their descendants can be offered the ‘chance of salvation’ when the god murders its own son.”
~vikaTae
“Don’t be an ass or a pussy, ’lest you get screwed by life. Being a mouth or a hand is somewhat safer, and an eye socket is pretty much sacred in this regard, so always keep a look out.”
~BCLEGENDS
Most Recent Posts
In
One Piece: Waves of Change/Romance Dawn/Grand Adventure
→
5 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Interest Checks
Some issues have come up which mean I won't be able to participate in this. I hope everyone else enjoys it, though.
@Gurren1 To be honest, we don't really have any space for new player characters signing up at the moment, and we have a list of planned villains for the group to face set up too. Having said that, I can set up a PM with you and Sel, and we could discuss your potentially taking over a planned villain for their fight, if you're okay with that.
In
One Piece: Waves of Change/Romance Dawn/Grand Adventure
→
5 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Interest Checks
I have a few very rough ideas for potential characters. Looking them over, though, it turns out I have a lot of DF-based ideas here. I may want to broaden my horizons to other options.
The first one is basically somebody making use of the Bomb Bomb Fruit for much more varied uses than just "snot explode lmao". At this stage, though, that conflicts with Kalas' idea, and to be frank, I'd much rather avoid putting myself in direct conflict for a character spot with specific others.
The second would be somebody starting off without a Devil Fruit, making use of their innate power instead, but then later on acquiring a DF power for themselves. My powergaming self would really quite like that to be the Human-Human Fruit, Model: Daibutsu, but it's been discussed already why that might be disagreeable, so perhaps it'd be best to avoid such a thing if I go with this.
A third option would be some form of Logia user. I like Logias conceptually, but you've already stated that those may be concerning too, which puts it in the same problem area as the Daibutsu, albeit without the delay of acquisition to help ameliorate power scaling concerns.
Or I could go in as King Louie the Giant, ousted from his position ruling over a nation after accidentally eating the Ape-Ape Fruit, Model: Gigantopithecus. The gimmick, you see, is being as ridiculously massive as giant-ly possible. That, however, seems like more of an NPC concept than anything else, and may make sailing around much more difficult as a result.
Lastly, I could just go with a Paramecia of some sort. The Arms-Arms Fruit isn't bad, or I could make use of somebody who can drill very effectively.
@ProPro Number 2. Doctor Virus seems pretty fun.
The first one is basically somebody making use of the Bomb Bomb Fruit for much more varied uses than just "snot explode lmao". At this stage, though, that conflicts with Kalas' idea, and to be frank, I'd much rather avoid putting myself in direct conflict for a character spot with specific others.
The second would be somebody starting off without a Devil Fruit, making use of their innate power instead, but then later on acquiring a DF power for themselves. My powergaming self would really quite like that to be the Human-Human Fruit, Model: Daibutsu, but it's been discussed already why that might be disagreeable, so perhaps it'd be best to avoid such a thing if I go with this.
A third option would be some form of Logia user. I like Logias conceptually, but you've already stated that those may be concerning too, which puts it in the same problem area as the Daibutsu, albeit without the delay of acquisition to help ameliorate power scaling concerns.
Or I could go in as King Louie the Giant, ousted from his position ruling over a nation after accidentally eating the Ape-Ape Fruit, Model: Gigantopithecus. The gimmick, you see, is being as ridiculously massive as giant-ly possible. That, however, seems like more of an NPC concept than anything else, and may make sailing around much more difficult as a result.
Lastly, I could just go with a Paramecia of some sort. The Arms-Arms Fruit isn't bad, or I could make use of somebody who can drill very effectively.
@ProPro Number 2. Doctor Virus seems pretty fun.
@Nyxira@Bazmund@Randomness@Bartimaeus@t2wave@duskshine749@AelitaJezebelle@TheMushroomLord@Rabidporcupine
The punching didn't work. What was worse, it felt like he was kind of yanked away from the creature at some point; when he lashed out at the thing, person, whatever pulling him, he was promptly... hurled.
'AI-!' He didn't really get much more time than that to emote his surprise, since within a couple of seconds, he was skidding along his back, kind of curling his arms and legs up to prevent them from being ripped off as well. The concrete was pretty rough; he slowed down quickly, but the shirt was definitely not going to stand up to punishment like that over and over again. Was he bleeding? His back hurt, because of course it did, but he had no idea about the blood situation. Still, whatever part of his brain was working at the moment allowed his back to melt briefly, hidden as it was, before resolidifying in what felt like the right form. Yeah, that was fine. He'd work it out later if he needed to, but he felt like he had a good sense of how his body was "meant" to look.
Unlike this whole situation. Finally finding the sense to sit up, he blinked as he took everything in: Dolly kneeling over him, doing her damndest to be protective; the shadow monster on the ground, apparently unharmed by his attacked- though if it bruised, he'd never have been able to tell- and standing over it, some black-haired lady and a ginger, was she, she was a teenager. That was a teenage girl. Had she thrown him?
'Ay... ay what the fu- ...whuwhat the Hell was that?' he asked them, pushing himself back to his feet - and, as an aside, petting Dolly's hair as a show of appreciation whilst murmuring 'Yeah, I'm good, thanks.' She wasn't really going to help if they wanted him dead, but she meant well. She'd make a good gang member.
Wait what the shit kind of thought was that. Whatever no time to think about it.
'A'ight, a'ight, look,' he continued, 'I dunno what in- what is happening, how I got tossed, why you're protecting that, that, that... what- what is that?' he asked, gesturing aggressively at the shadow creature with more than a bit of concern. 'Dear God, it's scary as shit, it's... seriously, what... I... uhhh.'
By now, he'd calmed down enough to realise that if they were protecting the thing, then maybe it wasn't as bad as he had immediately thought. And had he heard it talking before? He thought he'd heard something like that. Shit, he hadn't even realised they might just be looking at him like he was bugnuts. He wasn't bugnuts, that was Druggie Dougie. Who... was he still in the room with the bodies? Fuuuuck. With nothing better for the skinny guy to do, he nudged Sticks, and gestured for him to go get Dougie. Might as well, if he was just going to stand around like a lump.
Blade
The punching didn't work. What was worse, it felt like he was kind of yanked away from the creature at some point; when he lashed out at the thing, person, whatever pulling him, he was promptly... hurled.
'AI-!' He didn't really get much more time than that to emote his surprise, since within a couple of seconds, he was skidding along his back, kind of curling his arms and legs up to prevent them from being ripped off as well. The concrete was pretty rough; he slowed down quickly, but the shirt was definitely not going to stand up to punishment like that over and over again. Was he bleeding? His back hurt, because of course it did, but he had no idea about the blood situation. Still, whatever part of his brain was working at the moment allowed his back to melt briefly, hidden as it was, before resolidifying in what felt like the right form. Yeah, that was fine. He'd work it out later if he needed to, but he felt like he had a good sense of how his body was "meant" to look.
Unlike this whole situation. Finally finding the sense to sit up, he blinked as he took everything in: Dolly kneeling over him, doing her damndest to be protective; the shadow monster on the ground, apparently unharmed by his attacked- though if it bruised, he'd never have been able to tell- and standing over it, some black-haired lady and a ginger, was she, she was a teenager. That was a teenage girl. Had she thrown him?
'Ay... ay what the fu- ...whuwhat the Hell was that?' he asked them, pushing himself back to his feet - and, as an aside, petting Dolly's hair as a show of appreciation whilst murmuring 'Yeah, I'm good, thanks.' She wasn't really going to help if they wanted him dead, but she meant well. She'd make a good gang member.
Wait what the shit kind of thought was that. Whatever no time to think about it.
'A'ight, a'ight, look,' he continued, 'I dunno what in- what is happening, how I got tossed, why you're protecting that, that, that... what- what is that?' he asked, gesturing aggressively at the shadow creature with more than a bit of concern. 'Dear God, it's scary as shit, it's... seriously, what... I... uhhh.'
By now, he'd calmed down enough to realise that if they were protecting the thing, then maybe it wasn't as bad as he had immediately thought. And had he heard it talking before? He thought he'd heard something like that. Shit, he hadn't even realised they might just be looking at him like he was bugnuts. He wasn't bugnuts, that was Druggie Dougie. Who... was he still in the room with the bodies? Fuuuuck. With nothing better for the skinny guy to do, he nudged Sticks, and gestured for him to go get Dougie. Might as well, if he was just going to stand around like a lump.
In
Warhammer 40k: It's A Wonderful Life! An Imperial Guard (40K) RP
→
5 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Roleplay
415633-983223-17-Zhatka had observed the rest of the Command Squad over the weeks spent in their company. He was not impressed.
Lieutenant Sithech. Elderly. Weak, and weakening further. A superior- in absence of the Captain, the squad's presiding officer- but not important enough for life extension. Inappropriately jovial. Willing to die for the Emperor, at least.
Trooper Charlene. Undisciplined. Unmotivated. Feckless. Lazy if not compelled. Unacceptable weakness. At least the Captain was willing to do so.
Trooper Telaci. Nearly incomprehensible. Undisciplined. Untrustworthy. Jittery. Likely the sort to shoot those who couldn't shoot him back, if he decided to do so unjustly. Weakness. Such traits were incompatible with cohesion in a command squad.
Trooper Richard. Heavy gunner. Strong. Focused. Arrogant, however. Inefficient use of a heavy bolter. It was designed to kill large numbers of enemies. It was not designed for precise shooting. Foolishness.
Trooper Deacon. Gunner's mate. Improper focus. Too keen on survival. Attempted to spread his cult at any opportunity. Not interested. The Emperor asks that you die in his name. This would not include gathering supposed holy trinkets. Weakness.
Corporal Tharn. Slow for a corporal. Partially deaf. Undisciplined. Unmotivated. Talked too much. Poor etiquette. Barely able to hold his lasgun properly. Weakness.
It was hard to tell which of these was worst. Only Captain Di Fieroccu and Sergeant Cestarn seemed anywhere close to competent. The former was Mordian. Too intent on drama. Insistent that he not "walk to his death" on the battlefield. Nonetheless, disciplined. Willing to die for the Emperor. Firm leadership skills. Did not allow incompetence. Any Watchmaster would be proud, but for her failure to punish sufficiently. The latter was put together. Veteran. Still too jovial, but intelligent in his approaches. Fearless, as a grenadier ought to be. Neither was perfect, but they were impressive compared to the rest.
The rest of the company were neither green nor veteran, mostly. Their training was impersonal. Their attitude was lax. Weakness. Training progressed too slowly, not harsh enough, albeit firmer for the command squad. It was necessary. It was appreciated. Still, too much time passed. One month before redeployment; two weeks in the Warp, a much greater span of months in realspace; days more moving to the destination in realspace. Incompetency. Much too slow. Vocintis might well have been gone by the time they arrived.
Arrive they did, however. 415633-983223-17-Zhatka remained utterly silent in the straps of his harness, patiently awaiting the gunship's touchdown. His weapon was attached to the ship's wall; one strap of his pack remained over a free shoulder, firmly held in place; his outfit remained unchanged, down to the rebreather, but for nine squares of checker patterning placed upon the topmost segment of his breastplate. This latter idiosyncracy had been insisted upon by several squad members for identification purposes. Sensible enough. It was nonetheless undesirable. It marked him as an individual. That wasn't his purpose. None of this ought to have been his purpose. He was to die for the Emperor. This position, placement within Captain Di Fieroccu's command squad and her instructions to him, ran counter to this.
He had tried to content himself. As long as he died doing the Emperor's will, he would ablate Krieg's shame but marginally. Yet it seemed insufficient, especially given... the rest of the command squad.
'It's been too long. In life, war. In death, peace. In life, shame. In death, atonement.' This was his response to the Lieutenant. He had not needed to steel himself. He was ever-steeled.
Lieutenant Sithech. Elderly. Weak, and weakening further. A superior- in absence of the Captain, the squad's presiding officer- but not important enough for life extension. Inappropriately jovial. Willing to die for the Emperor, at least.
Trooper Charlene. Undisciplined. Unmotivated. Feckless. Lazy if not compelled. Unacceptable weakness. At least the Captain was willing to do so.
Trooper Telaci. Nearly incomprehensible. Undisciplined. Untrustworthy. Jittery. Likely the sort to shoot those who couldn't shoot him back, if he decided to do so unjustly. Weakness. Such traits were incompatible with cohesion in a command squad.
Trooper Richard. Heavy gunner. Strong. Focused. Arrogant, however. Inefficient use of a heavy bolter. It was designed to kill large numbers of enemies. It was not designed for precise shooting. Foolishness.
Trooper Deacon. Gunner's mate. Improper focus. Too keen on survival. Attempted to spread his cult at any opportunity. Not interested. The Emperor asks that you die in his name. This would not include gathering supposed holy trinkets. Weakness.
Corporal Tharn. Slow for a corporal. Partially deaf. Undisciplined. Unmotivated. Talked too much. Poor etiquette. Barely able to hold his lasgun properly. Weakness.
It was hard to tell which of these was worst. Only Captain Di Fieroccu and Sergeant Cestarn seemed anywhere close to competent. The former was Mordian. Too intent on drama. Insistent that he not "walk to his death" on the battlefield. Nonetheless, disciplined. Willing to die for the Emperor. Firm leadership skills. Did not allow incompetence. Any Watchmaster would be proud, but for her failure to punish sufficiently. The latter was put together. Veteran. Still too jovial, but intelligent in his approaches. Fearless, as a grenadier ought to be. Neither was perfect, but they were impressive compared to the rest.
The rest of the company were neither green nor veteran, mostly. Their training was impersonal. Their attitude was lax. Weakness. Training progressed too slowly, not harsh enough, albeit firmer for the command squad. It was necessary. It was appreciated. Still, too much time passed. One month before redeployment; two weeks in the Warp, a much greater span of months in realspace; days more moving to the destination in realspace. Incompetency. Much too slow. Vocintis might well have been gone by the time they arrived.
Arrive they did, however. 415633-983223-17-Zhatka remained utterly silent in the straps of his harness, patiently awaiting the gunship's touchdown. His weapon was attached to the ship's wall; one strap of his pack remained over a free shoulder, firmly held in place; his outfit remained unchanged, down to the rebreather, but for nine squares of checker patterning placed upon the topmost segment of his breastplate. This latter idiosyncracy had been insisted upon by several squad members for identification purposes. Sensible enough. It was nonetheless undesirable. It marked him as an individual. That wasn't his purpose. None of this ought to have been his purpose. He was to die for the Emperor. This position, placement within Captain Di Fieroccu's command squad and her instructions to him, ran counter to this.
He had tried to content himself. As long as he died doing the Emperor's will, he would ablate Krieg's shame but marginally. Yet it seemed insufficient, especially given... the rest of the command squad.
'It's been too long. In life, war. In death, peace. In life, shame. In death, atonement.' This was his response to the Lieutenant. He had not needed to steel himself. He was ever-steeled.
@Nyxira@Bazmund@Randomness
'Sure, kid, whatever makes you happy,' he replied brusquely, to both her name request and her name for him. He'd honestly not had the knife on his arm in mind very much... did it mean something? How could he figure it out? It was familiar, anyway - as was the thorny heart on his other arm, though somehow the impression that gave him was a fair bit worse. It was all kinds of fuc-
...weird. It was all kinds of weird. He might have said it was all kinds of fucked-up, if he'd had half a second of thought more. No, actually, turned out that would have been overselling it. The scene he just walked in on? Four corpses - three guards shot through the heads, a scientist clearly ripped open by some animal, and then just one guy eating some fucking cereal like nothing had happened? Nah, nah. This was all kinds of fucked up.
'Awww, santa mierda, esto es todo tipo de jodido, what the fuck?' he blurted out, kind of putting his hand up half-heartedly so that Dolly wouldn't see any of it... but shit, man, what the hell was he going to do about that? Christ. Even Druggie Dougie- or Hoodie, whoever- realised shit was fucked up here. Backing up, he sort of, pushed Dolly away from the cafeteria by her face, back into the hall, door closing behind Dougie... ehh, Dougie could leave if he wanted. Point was, he'd need to do some cleanup if Dolly didn't want to be traumatised or whatever. If she wasn't already.
Were those voices? He turned round to see-
@Bartimaeus
-what the fuck was that shadow thing?!
'JESUS CHRIST-!'
The thing was threatening. He needed to kill it. Though he'd jolted back at first, he almost immediately sprinted past Sticks and toward the monster with a furious roar, crossing the distance in mere seconds, and leaping at it to knock it to the floor, straddling its body and levelling blow after blow on its face once it was down! Ha, it was solid, and that meant he could beat it to death! As he punched it over and over, he shouted out '¡TOMA ESE, HIJO DE PUTA! ME APUNTÉ A MATAR A ESAS PERSONAS, ¿VERDAD? ¡NO ME MIENTAS!' Man, this was hard on his fists for some reason!
@t2wave@duskshine749@AelitaJezebelle@TheMushroomLord@Rabidporcupine
He really hadn't noticed the other people present yet. Furthermore, it'd be clear to Casey in particular that his outburst was fuelled by fear as much as rage - at least assuming he was able to coordinate his thoughts throughout the storm of fists the Spaniard was laying down.
Blade
'Sure, kid, whatever makes you happy,' he replied brusquely, to both her name request and her name for him. He'd honestly not had the knife on his arm in mind very much... did it mean something? How could he figure it out? It was familiar, anyway - as was the thorny heart on his other arm, though somehow the impression that gave him was a fair bit worse. It was all kinds of fuc-
...weird. It was all kinds of weird. He might have said it was all kinds of fucked-up, if he'd had half a second of thought more. No, actually, turned out that would have been overselling it. The scene he just walked in on? Four corpses - three guards shot through the heads, a scientist clearly ripped open by some animal, and then just one guy eating some fucking cereal like nothing had happened? Nah, nah. This was all kinds of fucked up.
'Awww, santa mierda, esto es todo tipo de jodido, what the fuck?' he blurted out, kind of putting his hand up half-heartedly so that Dolly wouldn't see any of it... but shit, man, what the hell was he going to do about that? Christ. Even Druggie Dougie- or Hoodie, whoever- realised shit was fucked up here. Backing up, he sort of, pushed Dolly away from the cafeteria by her face, back into the hall, door closing behind Dougie... ehh, Dougie could leave if he wanted. Point was, he'd need to do some cleanup if Dolly didn't want to be traumatised or whatever. If she wasn't already.
Were those voices? He turned round to see-
@Bartimaeus
-what the fuck was that shadow thing?!
'JESUS CHRIST-!'
The thing was threatening. He needed to kill it. Though he'd jolted back at first, he almost immediately sprinted past Sticks and toward the monster with a furious roar, crossing the distance in mere seconds, and leaping at it to knock it to the floor, straddling its body and levelling blow after blow on its face once it was down! Ha, it was solid, and that meant he could beat it to death! As he punched it over and over, he shouted out '¡TOMA ESE, HIJO DE PUTA! ME APUNTÉ A MATAR A ESAS PERSONAS, ¿VERDAD? ¡NO ME MIENTAS!' Man, this was hard on his fists for some reason!
@t2wave@duskshine749@AelitaJezebelle@TheMushroomLord@Rabidporcupine
He really hadn't noticed the other people present yet. Furthermore, it'd be clear to Casey in particular that his outburst was fuelled by fear as much as rage - at least assuming he was able to coordinate his thoughts throughout the storm of fists the Spaniard was laying down.
@Blitzy We are, though given the timeframes presently involved in sheet creation, I will ask that you craft your sheets as quickly as you're able to. The link to the Discord server is in the first post, of course, so feel free to jump in there at will.
@Bazmund@Randomness@Nyxira
Lotta questions. Lotta bullshit he didn't have time for. And apparently, the guy was way happier to be out of the cell than he ought to be. He was only "free" once he was out and away... but whatever. Sticks caught him on the door thing, too - and the prison thing. Shit.
'Uh... I dunno, mate, my memory is all kinds of shot,' he admitted, half the truth and half deflection to avoid the topic. 'I'm just sayin', if neck collars and kids are normal in prison, then this all-' A quick gesture around him, toward the whole prison situation. '-ain't as fucky as it ought to be.' Speaking of kids, there was the little girl again!
And some druggie. Holy fuck, it all made sense now: they weren't in a prison, they were in a loony bin! Which apparently made him a lunatic... no, that couldn't be it. He could think straight, he had his... wait. Shit. He had amnesia. He didn't know if he was mad or not. Fucking God damn it.
'Uh... the li'le girl is, yeah. Hey there.' He waved to her, glancing at the... the guy. Totally out of it, definitely on drugs. Not very pleasant to look at anyway. He had a hoodie. How the hell did he have a hoodie? Fucker was more dressed up than anyone else in the place so far. Pointing a thumb at the newbie, he said 'So this guy was still locked in 'is cell. Apparently, ours were all electronic, his was manual. I got him out no problem, though. An' this girl is... er, the li'le girl I mentioned.' He still didn't know anybody's names, even as he gestured toward her... that needed fixing. And they needed feeding, at that.
'Right, so I don't normally listen to big voices tellin' me what to do, but I'ma do what the speaker said, because I am hungry as fff- as a moth- ...I'm hungry, okay? I'm gonna get food.' As he began to walk in the general direction he, somehow, knew he should, he announced 'By the way, if you guys don't care what I call ya, you're Sticks, you're Tiny, an' he's Druggie Dougie,' pointing first to the new guy, then the girl, and then the guy in the hoodie- oh, Hoodie, that'd be way better. Well, too late for it now. The guy wasn't there enough to give his own name, anyway.
Lotta questions. Lotta bullshit he didn't have time for. And apparently, the guy was way happier to be out of the cell than he ought to be. He was only "free" once he was out and away... but whatever. Sticks caught him on the door thing, too - and the prison thing. Shit.
'Uh... I dunno, mate, my memory is all kinds of shot,' he admitted, half the truth and half deflection to avoid the topic. 'I'm just sayin', if neck collars and kids are normal in prison, then this all-' A quick gesture around him, toward the whole prison situation. '-ain't as fucky as it ought to be.' Speaking of kids, there was the little girl again!
And some druggie. Holy fuck, it all made sense now: they weren't in a prison, they were in a loony bin! Which apparently made him a lunatic... no, that couldn't be it. He could think straight, he had his... wait. Shit. He had amnesia. He didn't know if he was mad or not. Fucking God damn it.
'Uh... the li'le girl is, yeah. Hey there.' He waved to her, glancing at the... the guy. Totally out of it, definitely on drugs. Not very pleasant to look at anyway. He had a hoodie. How the hell did he have a hoodie? Fucker was more dressed up than anyone else in the place so far. Pointing a thumb at the newbie, he said 'So this guy was still locked in 'is cell. Apparently, ours were all electronic, his was manual. I got him out no problem, though. An' this girl is... er, the li'le girl I mentioned.' He still didn't know anybody's names, even as he gestured toward her... that needed fixing. And they needed feeding, at that.
'Right, so I don't normally listen to big voices tellin' me what to do, but I'ma do what the speaker said, because I am hungry as fff- as a moth- ...I'm hungry, okay? I'm gonna get food.' As he began to walk in the general direction he, somehow, knew he should, he announced 'By the way, if you guys don't care what I call ya, you're Sticks, you're Tiny, an' he's Druggie Dougie,' pointing first to the new guy, then the girl, and then the guy in the hoodie- oh, Hoodie, that'd be way better. Well, too late for it now. The guy wasn't there enough to give his own name, anyway.
@Bazmund
'Wait, yer door's still locked?' he asked, frowning as he realised that that was why it was still closed. It had never opened. And this guy had been trying to pick it, which meant it was a manual lock. Which meant... huuuh...
'...you know what, I might be able to help pick it from this side,' he agreed, thinking about what that might be able to do here. It had struck him that, sure, he could do it with the right tools. No idea how, and that was really pissing him off, but he could. Problem was, no tools. And yet, if that let him do it...
Immediately, he decided he didn't want anyone to know he could do that, though. The guy had mentioned "weird shit", which clearly meant he had an idea about that; no way was he going to show off to the guy, though. He could want to use that against him. That was why he hadn't slipped the collars yet, either; if the kid had seen, she might have blabbed. So, as if to warn, he said 'Er, you might wanna back off a bit, just in case the door's rigged to blow up or summin'.' Once the guy had moved far enough back to avoid seeing too much, even from a weird shallow angle, he pressed a finger against the lock-
And the entire facility shrieked a bit. Wow, that was loud. And then it went totally dark. Oh boy, fun!
...this was the time. He didn't like the collar, or the wristbands. He could get them off his wrists, at least, right? That wouldn't be noticed by anybody, right? Concentrating, he willed his hands to start... well, he could only describe it as a feeling of melting. And as some noise started building up in the background, he could honestly feel the bones in his hands turn to liquid, the meat stop being so resistant, and a few seconds later, he found he could sort of squeeze them into themselves and... yes, down they went! The noise was covered by the noise that was building up, but before he could think too hard about trying the same thing with the neck collar, the lights suddenly went back on. Yellow, now, instead of flickering white. Eugh.
'Esa fue una mierda de culo raro,' he muttered to himself, putting on half an act to make it seem like he'd been a bit... well, put off. He had, but he'd also been kind of focused on the wrist things- Jesus, that looked gross. Yeah, no, they'd definitely melted, even if it felt like he could still move them a bit. Maybe... yeah, unmelt them. Not fast, but it was happening. And he probably wouldn't get the chance to get rid of the collar now, if he could even survive his brain turning to goo like his hands, so... fuck it. Maybe later, if he could ditch these idiots.
'Sorry, man, that whole setup was distracting. Can't- can't pick locks in pitch black an' all,' he called through the door, using a foot to slide the bands off to the hinge side of the locked door as he yelled, just enough to make sure they'd be hidden behind it. 'Right, so...' His hands had mostly unmelted, but he kept one finger a bit gooey, and... eugh... pushed it into the lock... holy shit, how? What the fuck, how could he do that? That was... that was gross.
But it did the trick. Even if it felt like digging a bunch of pencils into his finger, he could force the pins to go up, to hit the right points- all at once, even. Way more effective than trying to use a normal pick. Still no idea how he knew that, but after a couple of moments, the lock clicked, turned-
'Okay, now hold on, this is the dangerous part,' he stated again, pulling the door slowly both to make a scene of the danger and to keep the lock from latching again, before pulling his goo-finger out of the lock and willing it to go back to normal as fast as possible. God, that was disturbing it look at. It was all deformed, but he could still move it, and even as he did that it flowed back to where it should be like... like butter? No, butter was way more liquidy. Lava? But lava was hot, right? Rubber? What the hell did melted rubber look like?! Fuck it, whatever, he didn't like it, and thank fuck he could turn that melting off, even if it was slow as hell. Yeah, "melting". He wasn't gonna keep calling it that, that was for fucking sure.
'...oookay, we're prolly good,' he announced once all was back where it should be, swinging the door fully open now that he had "confirmed" it wouldn't blow either of them up. 'Welcome to wherever the fuck this place is, mate. Looks like a prison to me, but then I ain't never been in a prison that let us all run around in the dark. Or that trapped lit'le girls in it. By the way, there's a lit'le girl waitin' for me somewhere back this way-' he pointed back the way he'd come, thankfully not past the door with the discarded wristbands. '-an' I'm pretty sure she's gonna be pissin' herself after that shit. Grab what you want, let's go.' Once the guy had done that, he'd start heading back in that direction, back towards the girlie in question. Ugh, if she'd run off squealing, that'd probably be blamed on him.
'Wait, yer door's still locked?' he asked, frowning as he realised that that was why it was still closed. It had never opened. And this guy had been trying to pick it, which meant it was a manual lock. Which meant... huuuh...
'...you know what, I might be able to help pick it from this side,' he agreed, thinking about what that might be able to do here. It had struck him that, sure, he could do it with the right tools. No idea how, and that was really pissing him off, but he could. Problem was, no tools. And yet, if that let him do it...
Immediately, he decided he didn't want anyone to know he could do that, though. The guy had mentioned "weird shit", which clearly meant he had an idea about that; no way was he going to show off to the guy, though. He could want to use that against him. That was why he hadn't slipped the collars yet, either; if the kid had seen, she might have blabbed. So, as if to warn, he said 'Er, you might wanna back off a bit, just in case the door's rigged to blow up or summin'.' Once the guy had moved far enough back to avoid seeing too much, even from a weird shallow angle, he pressed a finger against the lock-
And the entire facility shrieked a bit. Wow, that was loud. And then it went totally dark. Oh boy, fun!
...this was the time. He didn't like the collar, or the wristbands. He could get them off his wrists, at least, right? That wouldn't be noticed by anybody, right? Concentrating, he willed his hands to start... well, he could only describe it as a feeling of melting. And as some noise started building up in the background, he could honestly feel the bones in his hands turn to liquid, the meat stop being so resistant, and a few seconds later, he found he could sort of squeeze them into themselves and... yes, down they went! The noise was covered by the noise that was building up, but before he could think too hard about trying the same thing with the neck collar, the lights suddenly went back on. Yellow, now, instead of flickering white. Eugh.
'Esa fue una mierda de culo raro,' he muttered to himself, putting on half an act to make it seem like he'd been a bit... well, put off. He had, but he'd also been kind of focused on the wrist things- Jesus, that looked gross. Yeah, no, they'd definitely melted, even if it felt like he could still move them a bit. Maybe... yeah, unmelt them. Not fast, but it was happening. And he probably wouldn't get the chance to get rid of the collar now, if he could even survive his brain turning to goo like his hands, so... fuck it. Maybe later, if he could ditch these idiots.
'Sorry, man, that whole setup was distracting. Can't- can't pick locks in pitch black an' all,' he called through the door, using a foot to slide the bands off to the hinge side of the locked door as he yelled, just enough to make sure they'd be hidden behind it. 'Right, so...' His hands had mostly unmelted, but he kept one finger a bit gooey, and... eugh... pushed it into the lock... holy shit, how? What the fuck, how could he do that? That was... that was gross.
But it did the trick. Even if it felt like digging a bunch of pencils into his finger, he could force the pins to go up, to hit the right points- all at once, even. Way more effective than trying to use a normal pick. Still no idea how he knew that, but after a couple of moments, the lock clicked, turned-
'Okay, now hold on, this is the dangerous part,' he stated again, pulling the door slowly both to make a scene of the danger and to keep the lock from latching again, before pulling his goo-finger out of the lock and willing it to go back to normal as fast as possible. God, that was disturbing it look at. It was all deformed, but he could still move it, and even as he did that it flowed back to where it should be like... like butter? No, butter was way more liquidy. Lava? But lava was hot, right? Rubber? What the hell did melted rubber look like?! Fuck it, whatever, he didn't like it, and thank fuck he could turn that melting off, even if it was slow as hell. Yeah, "melting". He wasn't gonna keep calling it that, that was for fucking sure.
'...oookay, we're prolly good,' he announced once all was back where it should be, swinging the door fully open now that he had "confirmed" it wouldn't blow either of them up. 'Welcome to wherever the fuck this place is, mate. Looks like a prison to me, but then I ain't never been in a prison that let us all run around in the dark. Or that trapped lit'le girls in it. By the way, there's a lit'le girl waitin' for me somewhere back this way-' he pointed back the way he'd come, thankfully not past the door with the discarded wristbands. '-an' I'm pretty sure she's gonna be pissin' herself after that shit. Grab what you want, let's go.' Once the guy had done that, he'd start heading back in that direction, back towards the girlie in question. Ugh, if she'd run off squealing, that'd probably be blamed on him.
© 2007-2024