Wal is All
Bork Lazer Member
Struggle On
STATUS: Auld Lang Syne, everybody. roleplayerguild.com/topics/… 2 yrs ago
- Last Seen: 13 days ago
- Joined: 8 yrs ago
- Posts: 871 (0.32 / day)
- VMs: 4
-
Username history
- Bork Lazer 5 yrs ago
- ██████████████ 5 yrs ago
- ███████████████ 5 yrs ago
- ██████████████ 8 yrs ago
-
Latest 10 profile visitors:
-
Most recent →
Antlers,
Shu,
wintersoldier,
Mixtape Ghost N,
TrippyNightmare,
Charley,
Marik,
Shoopuf,
Lime,
Archazen
Status
Recent Statuses
2 yrs ago
Current
Auld Lang Syne, everybody. roleplayerguild.com/topics/…
3 yrs ago
Vote in my new quest, Mirage, a RP quest set in the far, far future roleplayerguild.com/topics/…
3 yrs ago
Kink-Shaming. Kink-Shaming Never Changes.
3
likes
4 yrs ago
roleplayerguild.com/posts/5… Vote for Dead in Depression. The mechanics of the quest have now been posted!
4 yrs ago
Voting is open until the end of the week! Please come and vote! - roleplayerguild.com/topics/…
1
like
Bio
ROLEPLAY BUCKET LIST
- Walmart Apocalypse Roleplay
- Nightmare Gas Station
- Underrail/Fallout/Post Apocalyptic Roleplay. Codename: Clausterclysm
- Anthromorphic Grimdark Animal Fantasy Roleplay. Codename: Fallowbrook.
- Eldritch Abomination Garfield Roleplay. Codename: Lasagna.
- Infinite IKEA Roleplay. Codename: God Morgon
- Roleplayerguild High School RP. Codename: Highschool Roleplay
- Cyberpunk South East Asia RP. Codename: Straits of Malacca. [CURRENTLY HAPPENING]
- Nightmare Gas Station
- Underrail/Fallout/Post Apocalyptic Roleplay. Codename: Clausterclysm
- Anthromorphic Grimdark Animal Fantasy Roleplay. Codename: Fallowbrook.
- Eldritch Abomination Garfield Roleplay. Codename: Lasagna.
- Infinite IKEA Roleplay. Codename: God Morgon
- Roleplayerguild High School RP. Codename: Highschool Roleplay
- Cyberpunk South East Asia RP. Codename: Straits of Malacca. [CURRENTLY HAPPENING]
CURRENT PROJECTS
- FRAYED TAPESTRY - AN EPIC FANTASY RP (WIP)
- THE LAST DEPRESSION - A RED MARKETS QUEST/PLAY BY POST RP (UNDECIDED)
Most Recent Posts
Alright, you know the drill, gang. It’s collab time. Which means that I’ll be creating 2 different google docs on the Discord for you to collab in.
“ This is Wal-Industry Patented Public Address Intercom Sector 24 - Alpha - 90, here to tell you how to always have a happy stay with low prices! To all our dear customers, we at Wal-Industries are also pleased to announce a new line of promotions for our summer sale. Earn your chance for a 75% discount on our Water-Sports department and a free trip to the Walton Autobiographical Museum with every purchase of a Wal-Pachinko ticket. The next song on our trademark playlist is the classical ‘ Smiley and You’ by Wal-Music, guaranteed by our medical professionals to boost both your purchasing frequency and dopamine levels by 15%.
And remember - BBRRTTSZKJDTTTTT”
Scat turned the plastic, cheery tone of the Piaee Drone into electric gurgling with a nonchalant thwack of his frisbee-rang. The Piaee’s was sputtering, its eth-powered motors clipped and trailing smoke, crash landing near the eclectic group of Lifters that had assembled on the dock. Poor thing. He had to go put it out of his misery. He shoved two fingers into his mouth and whistled for Paw to follow him.Stomping down the stairs with the grace of a dire-pidgeon, Scat’s eyes were dead-set on finishing off his prey, not paying any attention to the other Lifters.
Laying on the ground, the Piaee sputtered out more nonsense about ‘coupons’ and ‘stock growth’ that Scat couldn’t comprehend. A squish from his corgi-leather boots silenced it. He picked up its silvery gray corpse, picking through its innards to see if there was anything edible. Nothing. He tossed it over the deck into the waters of the Spillway before regarding the Lifters before him.
“ Sorry. Metal parrot was too loud. Owner taught him bad tricks.” He raised back his leather jerkin boots, wiping off grease and battery fluid off with his black ridden palms. “ Name is Scat of Tribe Mannapro. I is Pet-Master. How you today? I - PAW!”
Paw had begun nibbling at the apparel of each Lifter that was standing nearby, taking chunks out of the dorf’s boots and bites of the penja’s clothing like lettuce. Scats hurriedly crouched down and forced Paw’s jaw open, pulling wads of saliva-coated fabric out while reprimanding his Pet.
“ Bad Paw. Naughty Paw. No eating clothes! “ Scats dug his hand around into Paw’s cheek.” Bad for your health.”
Paw gave him the stink-eye. The Pet-Master shot an apologetic look at the Lifters around him.
“ Sorry. Paw hungry most of time. Spillway only living with dire-crabs and seamon-“
A sudden rumble followed by the sound of splintering wood made Scat tense up like a statue. Perhaps, it was just sea-sickness playing with his mind. He looked to his side and saw Paw chittering anxiously. No, it wasn’t. A frothing tide of pink foam grew on the left side of the turtle-fish, coating it in a sickly aroma that smelled of baby lotion. Cleaners and sailors dashed around them in a frenzy as orders were barked out rapidly. Slowly, the ship began to tilt to its left, barrels of cargo tumbling down and sleeping sailors dropping out of their hammocks. Scat struggled to stay on his two feet, Paw biting his collar to keep him from falling overboard.
Out of the corner of his eye, in the misty air-conditioned fog that permeated the Spillway, another turtle-fish emerged.
“ Raise the sails! Pull up the anchor! I want all men on decks to start bailing water as soon as possible!” Tidepod, second helmsman of the S.S Detergent flinched as his Captain’s spittle-infused commands nearly burst his eardrum. Unlike most ordinary Captains who led their crews with ramshackle inefficiency, Captain Munch was the only one in Tidepod’s experience as a Cleaner sailor to value discipline and his tools for enforcing it was a diaphragm built like a sauce bottle and a mouth full of disgusting swears that not even the holy Kleenex could purge. So, bouts of loud shouting on the deck of the Detergent were a daily occurrence.
However, whatever was happening right now wasn’t a daily occurrence. The bridge was pure chaos as the ‘Tronic LED screen flashed damage reports across a blueprint layout of the Detergent.
Shoppers operated by buying habits. Everyone. Tidepod had made use of that fact throughout his lifetime and Captain Munch of the S.S Detergent would not be an exception to that rule today. He learned from experience to learn what emotions the captain was undergoing by whatever drink he had on hand.
When Captain Munch of the Cereai Naval Boxes was happy, he would usually drink a bottle of Kewlaid.
When Captain Munch of the Cereai Naval Boxes was unhappy, most sailors would find him with a bottle of Schnapps by his chair.
Right now, he was favouring a Diet Coke. Translation: extremely angry. Captain Munch’s blue tricorn hat was a beacon that united the crew together, as he continued to bark out orders. Tidepod noticed that the veteran sailor’s hand was shaking on his personalised gold-encrusted candy cane.
“Helmsman Tidepod, damage report!” Captain Munch shouted.
“ A hull breach on our portside, sir!” Tidepod replied back. “ Looks like a bath bomb. I’ll send men down there to seal the leak as soon as possible!”
He looked back. The Captain was pacing back and forth, muttering to himself before pointing his cane towards him. “ Make that Tron go down with them as well. And start arming the starboard toliet paper pults. I fear his may be part of a larger - “
A lookout panicked yell caught his attention. “Captain! Ship on our twelve!” He pulled up a periscope to look closer at the ship.
“ What flags they be flying, my boy?”
“ Oh god, “ The lookout’s face paled. “ it’s the Mis-”
He paused as the side of the pirate vessel flashed yellow, sound issuing a second later. Eyes widening, Tidepod realised too late as the glass shattered and his world became acrid smoke and pain. The bleach devoured him, sloughing off his flesh. His lungs were shredded apart in the toxic smog, blood pouring out of his gums as the bridge crew around him suffered the same fate. Bleach. Death was finally granted to him as the bridge toppled off the tilting Detergent, delivering his body into the embrace of the churning Spillway.
It was a miracle that the S.S Detergent was still standing at this point. The bath bomb corroded away at the portside, reducing the toilet-pults and its only line of defence to sludge. Crates of groceries, barrels of Pharma-Spice, even a plunger-ballistae slid and slipped across the shifting deck.The opposing pirate vessel, flag beared for all to see with a muscular arm gripping a spray bottle, was moving in at a steady pace for the kill, smelling fish food in the water. Scats found purchase onto the mast, hanging on as the Detergent began to sail uncontrollably in an arc straight into a jutting wreck of a massive cracked glass tank. He held on as the frame of the Detergent bent and buckled, slowing to a halt.
That had stopped the sinking, but they were still in the middle of the Spillway with no land in sight. The boat of pirates was close enough now that Scats could see their faces leering and taunting them, brandishing NERF foam cutlasses and matchbox muskets. A helmsman yelled down from the smoking remnants of the bridge.
“ All right, listen, you no good bunch’ a closing down shoppers. Captain Munch is dead. It’s time to do yer job and guard deh thing that’s gonna keep ya loaded in muuneh for seasons to come. Now, I can’t guarantee you’ll get a bonus on your contracts but if you don’t do what I say, we’ll end up in Captain Crunch’s locker.”
“ Tron, we need you to go into the Hold to secure the package. It’s been locked in a Tronic safe for its own protection but it’s gonna go down with this ship if we don’t get it out. ” The Cleaner tossed a roll of blue towel towards the denizen of the Electronics Department. “ Take the Sham-Wow. You’ll need it. The Pet-Master and the Clothing shopper can go with you for your own protection.”
“ The rest of us need to defend the ship while they help pump up the lifeboats.” The helmsman pointed over his shoulder where a couple of sailors were busily pumping air into slowly expanding giant rubber duck inflatable floaties. “ Hopefully, we can get out before they board - “
The entire ship fell silent as a five-clawed hand the size of a salt shaker sprouted from the middle of the floorboards. Then, another one appeared. Then, there was the other. In several heartbeats, a horde of miniscule sized mutants had filled the deck. The smallest were the size of Nike shoes while the biggest reminded Scat of an inbred Nevergrow. The similarities between the creatures and the crew begun and ended at the amount of limbs they both had along with the general shape that everyone associated humans with. Their webbed hands and feet were just the least most disturbing aspect of them. A single bulbous, pupiless eyes stared blankly towards them whilst mandibles clicked and chirped hungrily, a barbed tongue rolling out of its distended mouth that reached from its chin to its chest. Glittering furred chitin plates in the hues of the famed Skittles covered bags of mucous skin that sagged like an over-sized shirt on their wiry skeletons. Paw began huddling against the side of Scat's legs, fur shaking not in fear but in anticipation of what was to come. They were everywhere. Crouching on the mast. Prowling the deck. Hanging with their barbed tails by the railing. Standing on two legs by the overturned scattered piles of cargo.
Watching.
Waiting.
Licking.
Drooling.
Then, the Sea-Monkeys leaped to feast, snarling and biting rabidly.
“ Blasted Sea-Monkeys!” The helmsman cursed, entangled with several Sea-Monkeys before shouting towards Blue, Havalock and Scats. “ The three of you! Go now!”
And remember - BBRRTTSZKJDTTTTT”
Scat turned the plastic, cheery tone of the Piaee Drone into electric gurgling with a nonchalant thwack of his frisbee-rang. The Piaee’s was sputtering, its eth-powered motors clipped and trailing smoke, crash landing near the eclectic group of Lifters that had assembled on the dock. Poor thing. He had to go put it out of his misery. He shoved two fingers into his mouth and whistled for Paw to follow him.Stomping down the stairs with the grace of a dire-pidgeon, Scat’s eyes were dead-set on finishing off his prey, not paying any attention to the other Lifters.
Laying on the ground, the Piaee sputtered out more nonsense about ‘coupons’ and ‘stock growth’ that Scat couldn’t comprehend. A squish from his corgi-leather boots silenced it. He picked up its silvery gray corpse, picking through its innards to see if there was anything edible. Nothing. He tossed it over the deck into the waters of the Spillway before regarding the Lifters before him.
“ Sorry. Metal parrot was too loud. Owner taught him bad tricks.” He raised back his leather jerkin boots, wiping off grease and battery fluid off with his black ridden palms. “ Name is Scat of Tribe Mannapro. I is Pet-Master. How you today? I - PAW!”
Paw had begun nibbling at the apparel of each Lifter that was standing nearby, taking chunks out of the dorf’s boots and bites of the penja’s clothing like lettuce. Scats hurriedly crouched down and forced Paw’s jaw open, pulling wads of saliva-coated fabric out while reprimanding his Pet.
“ Bad Paw. Naughty Paw. No eating clothes! “ Scats dug his hand around into Paw’s cheek.” Bad for your health.”
Paw gave him the stink-eye. The Pet-Master shot an apologetic look at the Lifters around him.
“ Sorry. Paw hungry most of time. Spillway only living with dire-crabs and seamon-“
A sudden rumble followed by the sound of splintering wood made Scat tense up like a statue. Perhaps, it was just sea-sickness playing with his mind. He looked to his side and saw Paw chittering anxiously. No, it wasn’t. A frothing tide of pink foam grew on the left side of the turtle-fish, coating it in a sickly aroma that smelled of baby lotion. Cleaners and sailors dashed around them in a frenzy as orders were barked out rapidly. Slowly, the ship began to tilt to its left, barrels of cargo tumbling down and sleeping sailors dropping out of their hammocks. Scat struggled to stay on his two feet, Paw biting his collar to keep him from falling overboard.
Out of the corner of his eye, in the misty air-conditioned fog that permeated the Spillway, another turtle-fish emerged.
“ Raise the sails! Pull up the anchor! I want all men on decks to start bailing water as soon as possible!” Tidepod, second helmsman of the S.S Detergent flinched as his Captain’s spittle-infused commands nearly burst his eardrum. Unlike most ordinary Captains who led their crews with ramshackle inefficiency, Captain Munch was the only one in Tidepod’s experience as a Cleaner sailor to value discipline and his tools for enforcing it was a diaphragm built like a sauce bottle and a mouth full of disgusting swears that not even the holy Kleenex could purge. So, bouts of loud shouting on the deck of the Detergent were a daily occurrence.
However, whatever was happening right now wasn’t a daily occurrence. The bridge was pure chaos as the ‘Tronic LED screen flashed damage reports across a blueprint layout of the Detergent.
Shoppers operated by buying habits. Everyone. Tidepod had made use of that fact throughout his lifetime and Captain Munch of the S.S Detergent would not be an exception to that rule today. He learned from experience to learn what emotions the captain was undergoing by whatever drink he had on hand.
When Captain Munch of the Cereai Naval Boxes was happy, he would usually drink a bottle of Kewlaid.
When Captain Munch of the Cereai Naval Boxes was unhappy, most sailors would find him with a bottle of Schnapps by his chair.
Right now, he was favouring a Diet Coke. Translation: extremely angry. Captain Munch’s blue tricorn hat was a beacon that united the crew together, as he continued to bark out orders. Tidepod noticed that the veteran sailor’s hand was shaking on his personalised gold-encrusted candy cane.
“Helmsman Tidepod, damage report!” Captain Munch shouted.
“ A hull breach on our portside, sir!” Tidepod replied back. “ Looks like a bath bomb. I’ll send men down there to seal the leak as soon as possible!”
He looked back. The Captain was pacing back and forth, muttering to himself before pointing his cane towards him. “ Make that Tron go down with them as well. And start arming the starboard toliet paper pults. I fear his may be part of a larger - “
A lookout panicked yell caught his attention. “Captain! Ship on our twelve!” He pulled up a periscope to look closer at the ship.
“ What flags they be flying, my boy?”
“ Oh god, “ The lookout’s face paled. “ it’s the Mis-”
He paused as the side of the pirate vessel flashed yellow, sound issuing a second later. Eyes widening, Tidepod realised too late as the glass shattered and his world became acrid smoke and pain. The bleach devoured him, sloughing off his flesh. His lungs were shredded apart in the toxic smog, blood pouring out of his gums as the bridge crew around him suffered the same fate. Bleach. Death was finally granted to him as the bridge toppled off the tilting Detergent, delivering his body into the embrace of the churning Spillway.
It was a miracle that the S.S Detergent was still standing at this point. The bath bomb corroded away at the portside, reducing the toilet-pults and its only line of defence to sludge. Crates of groceries, barrels of Pharma-Spice, even a plunger-ballistae slid and slipped across the shifting deck.The opposing pirate vessel, flag beared for all to see with a muscular arm gripping a spray bottle, was moving in at a steady pace for the kill, smelling fish food in the water. Scats found purchase onto the mast, hanging on as the Detergent began to sail uncontrollably in an arc straight into a jutting wreck of a massive cracked glass tank. He held on as the frame of the Detergent bent and buckled, slowing to a halt.
That had stopped the sinking, but they were still in the middle of the Spillway with no land in sight. The boat of pirates was close enough now that Scats could see their faces leering and taunting them, brandishing NERF foam cutlasses and matchbox muskets. A helmsman yelled down from the smoking remnants of the bridge.
“ All right, listen, you no good bunch’ a closing down shoppers. Captain Munch is dead. It’s time to do yer job and guard deh thing that’s gonna keep ya loaded in muuneh for seasons to come. Now, I can’t guarantee you’ll get a bonus on your contracts but if you don’t do what I say, we’ll end up in Captain Crunch’s locker.”
“ Tron, we need you to go into the Hold to secure the package. It’s been locked in a Tronic safe for its own protection but it’s gonna go down with this ship if we don’t get it out. ” The Cleaner tossed a roll of blue towel towards the denizen of the Electronics Department. “ Take the Sham-Wow. You’ll need it. The Pet-Master and the Clothing shopper can go with you for your own protection.”
“ The rest of us need to defend the ship while they help pump up the lifeboats.” The helmsman pointed over his shoulder where a couple of sailors were busily pumping air into slowly expanding giant rubber duck inflatable floaties. “ Hopefully, we can get out before they board - “
The entire ship fell silent as a five-clawed hand the size of a salt shaker sprouted from the middle of the floorboards. Then, another one appeared. Then, there was the other. In several heartbeats, a horde of miniscule sized mutants had filled the deck. The smallest were the size of Nike shoes while the biggest reminded Scat of an inbred Nevergrow. The similarities between the creatures and the crew begun and ended at the amount of limbs they both had along with the general shape that everyone associated humans with. Their webbed hands and feet were just the least most disturbing aspect of them. A single bulbous, pupiless eyes stared blankly towards them whilst mandibles clicked and chirped hungrily, a barbed tongue rolling out of its distended mouth that reached from its chin to its chest. Glittering furred chitin plates in the hues of the famed Skittles covered bags of mucous skin that sagged like an over-sized shirt on their wiry skeletons. Paw began huddling against the side of Scat's legs, fur shaking not in fear but in anticipation of what was to come. They were everywhere. Crouching on the mast. Prowling the deck. Hanging with their barbed tails by the railing. Standing on two legs by the overturned scattered piles of cargo.
Watching.
Waiting.
Licking.
Drooling.
Then, the Sea-Monkeys leaped to feast, snarling and biting rabidly.
“ Blasted Sea-Monkeys!” The helmsman cursed, entangled with several Sea-Monkeys before shouting towards Blue, Havalock and Scats. “ The three of you! Go now!”
@RevetheDreamer
And with that, our Wal-Party is complete. For now.
Put that fabulous character in the CS tab, fam.
However....
@Paradoxial, if you’re reading this, there’s still a chance for you to make it into the RP if you PM me your character sheet before next Monday. I’m holidaying in Rome right now so I can’t exactly badger you constantly every second. Nevertheless, please respond whether or not you’re still interested.
And with that, our Wal-Party is complete. For now.
Put that fabulous character in the CS tab, fam.
However....
@Paradoxial, if you’re reading this, there’s still a chance for you to make it into the RP if you PM me your character sheet before next Monday. I’m holidaying in Rome right now so I can’t exactly badger you constantly every second. Nevertheless, please respond whether or not you’re still interested.
Eons before the Wal was all, there was a vision and a man with a conviction. The Great Sam, or as he was once known, Sam Walton, the founder of Wal-Industries.
When the first residential supermarts were unveiled by The Great Sam to the public, thousands of people, from the down-trodden to the highest echelons of society, flocked together in droves to seek new lives, an eternity of shopping and buying. Under the guidance of the Great Sam, the first Wal Trade Zone was born, an autonomous city unto itself with sovereign rights. Unfortunately , the Great Sam would never live to see the future, for he tragically passed away after drinking over-expired milk.
When the Board took over the reigns of the Wal, the Buy-Out began, a systematic strategy of securing global socio-economic dominance through repealing anti-monopoly and corporation regulation laws. Wal-Industries spread its reach across the globe like a fungus. Lesser businesses and corporations were trampled underneath the heel of the Wal. Soon, health insurance was replaced by Wal-Care insurance. Entire education curriculums were replaced by Wal-School programmes. Power plants were supplanted by Wal-Energy. Wal-Industries was everything and everywhere.
It wasn’t destruction that consumed our planet but rather, chaos. When Wal-Industries went boom, the world went bust. The Third World, a coalition of old governments, rebels and political activists, struck back against the tyranny of Wal-Industries. Violence broke out. Mayhem ensued. Blood was spilt on both sides. Society edged precariously towards collapse. In the end, the supermarts that were once a monument to our excesses became the salvation and future of mankind. On Opening Day, we learned to enjoy our stay in the Wal.
Fortunately, the customers of the Wal are adaptable. The new inhabitants of the Wal spreaded out and formed tribal societies, built enclaves, established settlements. The religious mechanics of Auto N Tires. The reclusive Tron Boys of Electronics. The tribal Pet-Masters of Pets and Animals. The barbarian hordes of Groceries. The antiquated lords of Stationary. These are but a fraction of the Departments that populate the Wal today. Alas, they are beset by those who have lost themselves to the madness of the Wal, the malfunctioning automatons living on past programming and mutated monstrosities in every aisle.
Such is life in the Wal.
Who am I? I am the Greeter, and I have seen dozens of stories and tales of triumph and survival in the bowels of the Wal from the vigil of the security cameras. We now follow a lonely boat sailing through the Spillway, a river of waste that courses through the northern sections of the Wal. Within this vessel lies a crew of Lifters in charge of protecting a mysterious package…….
Scat didn’t like water. He stared back into the brackish depths of the flowing currents and a soup of bobbing trash stared back. Where a shopper would see a plain cleanup, he’d see a thousand different jaws gnashing at him when he turned his back.
However, the two fools near the stern of the turtle-fish had other ideas about caution.
One of the pair laughs out loud, his face a high-pitched red. His mouth splits into a drunken grim as he takes another sucking swig from the test of his baby bottle. “ I swear, one of these days, Keenex, I’m gunna get me a discount. A real good 10% or 20%......”
Behind him was presumably his friend. A Kleaner. His gas mask did little to hide the concern in his voice. “Oh, for Sam’s sake, Samow, get off there before you hurt yourself.” He reaches out a hand to catch his friend before he can tumble headfirst into the frothing waters below.
“ Ge… get ‘way fwem me. Look at me, man….. I’m a dire goldfish.” The drunken shopper flapped his arms like a dire pidgeon, nearly falling off the deck of the ship.
Scat turned away from the scene and instead, looked out towards the majesty of the Spillway. They were approaching a tributary that sliced around the carcass of an gargantuan Shelf that was crumbling by the second. The scotch-taped hull cut through the streams that poured out of the Restroom Basins. The engine hastily chugged along the river, with only the fabled power of Wdee Fortee keeping the vessel afloat.
There was a hiss from his side. Paw’s ears were stuck flat to his side, baring his buck-tooth teeth and raising his hackles. Brushing his fur did little to soothe the rabbit.
Scat signed.Hopefully this package would earn him enough to continue on the Pilgrimage. He’d already sacrificed so much to reach this point
When the first residential supermarts were unveiled by The Great Sam to the public, thousands of people, from the down-trodden to the highest echelons of society, flocked together in droves to seek new lives, an eternity of shopping and buying. Under the guidance of the Great Sam, the first Wal Trade Zone was born, an autonomous city unto itself with sovereign rights. Unfortunately , the Great Sam would never live to see the future, for he tragically passed away after drinking over-expired milk.
When the Board took over the reigns of the Wal, the Buy-Out began, a systematic strategy of securing global socio-economic dominance through repealing anti-monopoly and corporation regulation laws. Wal-Industries spread its reach across the globe like a fungus. Lesser businesses and corporations were trampled underneath the heel of the Wal. Soon, health insurance was replaced by Wal-Care insurance. Entire education curriculums were replaced by Wal-School programmes. Power plants were supplanted by Wal-Energy. Wal-Industries was everything and everywhere.
It wasn’t destruction that consumed our planet but rather, chaos. When Wal-Industries went boom, the world went bust. The Third World, a coalition of old governments, rebels and political activists, struck back against the tyranny of Wal-Industries. Violence broke out. Mayhem ensued. Blood was spilt on both sides. Society edged precariously towards collapse. In the end, the supermarts that were once a monument to our excesses became the salvation and future of mankind. On Opening Day, we learned to enjoy our stay in the Wal.
Fortunately, the customers of the Wal are adaptable. The new inhabitants of the Wal spreaded out and formed tribal societies, built enclaves, established settlements. The religious mechanics of Auto N Tires. The reclusive Tron Boys of Electronics. The tribal Pet-Masters of Pets and Animals. The barbarian hordes of Groceries. The antiquated lords of Stationary. These are but a fraction of the Departments that populate the Wal today. Alas, they are beset by those who have lost themselves to the madness of the Wal, the malfunctioning automatons living on past programming and mutated monstrosities in every aisle.
Such is life in the Wal.
Who am I? I am the Greeter, and I have seen dozens of stories and tales of triumph and survival in the bowels of the Wal from the vigil of the security cameras. We now follow a lonely boat sailing through the Spillway, a river of waste that courses through the northern sections of the Wal. Within this vessel lies a crew of Lifters in charge of protecting a mysterious package…….
Scat didn’t like water. He stared back into the brackish depths of the flowing currents and a soup of bobbing trash stared back. Where a shopper would see a plain cleanup, he’d see a thousand different jaws gnashing at him when he turned his back.
However, the two fools near the stern of the turtle-fish had other ideas about caution.
One of the pair laughs out loud, his face a high-pitched red. His mouth splits into a drunken grim as he takes another sucking swig from the test of his baby bottle. “ I swear, one of these days, Keenex, I’m gunna get me a discount. A real good 10% or 20%......”
Behind him was presumably his friend. A Kleaner. His gas mask did little to hide the concern in his voice. “Oh, for Sam’s sake, Samow, get off there before you hurt yourself.” He reaches out a hand to catch his friend before he can tumble headfirst into the frothing waters below.
“ Ge… get ‘way fwem me. Look at me, man….. I’m a dire goldfish.” The drunken shopper flapped his arms like a dire pidgeon, nearly falling off the deck of the ship.
Scat turned away from the scene and instead, looked out towards the majesty of the Spillway. They were approaching a tributary that sliced around the carcass of an gargantuan Shelf that was crumbling by the second. The scotch-taped hull cut through the streams that poured out of the Restroom Basins. The engine hastily chugged along the river, with only the fabled power of Wdee Fortee keeping the vessel afloat.
There was a hiss from his side. Paw’s ears were stuck flat to his side, baring his buck-tooth teeth and raising his hackles. Brushing his fur did little to soothe the rabbit.
Scat signed.Hopefully this package would earn him enough to continue on the Pilgrimage. He’d already sacrificed so much to reach this point
@Mercenary Lord
Thank god we finally have a Tron on our side. You have the Wal-Master's permission to put this into the CS tab.
Thank god we finally have a Tron on our side. You have the Wal-Master's permission to put this into the CS tab.
@ClocktowerEchos
Amazing. Really love the idea of this posh gentleman adventurer. Get that in the CS tab, my man.
Amazing. Really love the idea of this posh gentleman adventurer. Get that in the CS tab, my man.
I’m working on a post.
CHARACTER CAST
Scat Kibbles - The Wal-Master
Z-Grip, The Penja - @Moskau Spieluhr
Blothmerche Assiosales, Dorf = @AmpharosBoy
Havalock Orchily - Gentleman Explorer of Clothing = @ClocktowerEchos
My character sheet is now officially up and that means I'm ready to start accepting characters. So, for now, these are the confirmations thus far. Regardless of whether or not your character is in a finished state, it's in a state where I can say is in a state of 'accepting while not in a finished state'.
You can post your character sheet in the Character Tabs in whatever state you feel like. If you want to post an unfinished version, be my guest, or you can put in the effort of posting a finished sheet.
@AmpharosBoy as Blothmerche Assiosales
@Moskau Spieluhr as Z-Grip
@Athol as Brother Sliverado
You can post your character sheet in the Character Tabs in whatever state you feel like. If you want to post an unfinished version, be my guest, or you can put in the effort of posting a finished sheet.
@AmpharosBoy as Blothmerche Assiosales
@Moskau Spieluhr as Z-Grip
@Athol as Brother Sliverado
© 2007-2025