Vilageidiotx

Vinyl recommendations?

Hunger Games: Happy Holidays Edition

I ship Burmaclane

@Duthguy

Hunger Games: Happy Holidays Edition

Night is fallen, and with Clirkus dead, everybody finds themselves adjusting to a world where the season has no reason. What effect will this have on our games? Time to find out.



Bert kills Ash! Bert! The puppet who just sorta held snow for fun a few days back. Before sundown, Bert was seen making a pumpkin spice latte, so imma guess that's the fatal gift that destroyed Ash. Ash destroyed Furby and killed Sherlock, and looked to be a potential power player, but instead he has been strung up by a puppet.

Then Frosty kills the Waifu! Where was Charlie Brown, who once protected the Waifu from the season-reasoned attack of Clirkus? We will find out shortly I suppose.

An Elf gift wraps his wound. Chunk and Sloth, bless their hearts, receive and enjoy freshly baked gingerbread cookies. Cynder questions her holiday spirit as she slowly remembers how she cooked Turbo Man to death. Ursula wraps up in Snuggie and talks to it about Westworld. So does the Witch Cat and Charlie...

Charlie Brown! You abandoned the Waifu to her death so you could chat up Witch Cat? That is what you were doing? For shame, young man!

Baby Jesus looks at the snow, while Santa and Earl Browder talk about... jesus shit, Westworld must have just aired or something.

Woody Guthrie is excited about handouts. And Papa Smurf receives cookies. I guess something to dunk in his egg nog while he rides on his pony.



The Wicked Witch defends her turkey from a raid for the second time. It is curious her turkey is so popular since it should be, you know, dry. Her water allergy does make her food situation confusing.

Putin, having spent the games mostly just unhappy about stuff, is now unhappy with the Grinch's turkey. The more I type "The X's Turkey", the more it sounds suggestive.

Saturn, the powerful god from Roman mythology, shoots himself in the eye on accident and dies.

Emoticone receives a chocolate orange. That would be a good flavor of ice-cream, chocolate orange. Bing Crosby can't get to bed. The Elvenqueen moves in with Ernie. Travolta throws icicles at Dr. Light, who was said by some to be a fairy tale, but is really made of snow; and accidentally kills Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, who was said by some to be a fairy tale, but is really made of snow.

Holy shit, John McClane has a blue Christmas without Burma. Little does he know that across the way, Burma has had a blue Christmas without John McClane. I shit you not. Look it up, it happened a few days ago. She had a blue Christmas, And so did he. He kept it hid, And so did she. They searched for blue (christmas), Their whole life through, Then passed right by, And never knew.

Bowser detaches from the drama and just enjoys the night.



The sun comes up, and ol' Earl Browder starts a'drinkin. Charlie Brown gives An Elf some poisoned nog. I guess he must be over the Waifu entirely, because instead of getting revenge on frosty, he applies his fatal nog to the elf. John McClane goes to church, possibly to pray for some Burma. The Grinch dies sad an alone, which yeh, makes sense I suppose. Witch Cat, Clint, and Putin deck some halls. This being the second time the Witch Cat and Putin have teamed up with somebody else to deck halls, I think these two might be in a hall decking business now. Ursula makes pie. The Wicked Witch, her turkey presumably secure, decorates with a blanket and the baby Jesus. Dr Light receives some light presents.

Then Cynder kills Dexter with a Christmas miracle. And I bet it was a miracle too, considering Dexter was so obviously blessed by the angels. I think this shows that the goodwill given to Cynder by the games is still present and working its magic.

And then more hall decking. Ernie once decked the halls with the Witch Cat and Putin, so we know he is a professional and has the experience necessary to direct this particular decking.



Bert takes a nap, having spent the night murdering Ash. The Equestrian Royal Guard distracts the Elvenqueen with Christmas lights. Since the Elvenqueen has never been particularly aggressive, I don't think the distraction was really necessary. It takes Santa, Papa Smurf, Bing Crosby, and Chunk and Sloth to pry the chestnuts from Burma's hands. This is the first successful raid Chunk and Sloth have been party too, and one of the few aggression they have committed in an otherwise peaceful and fun-loving career as partners. Frosty has himself a merry little Christmas, content after killing the Waifu. Bowser receives a poor, poor pony. Woody Guthrie receives more hand-outs.



Things really picked up this time around. We're getting into the nitty gritty, when the survivors stop futzing around and make a real effort. From now on things will move quickly.

Winter Came on Forever: An 18th Century Alt-History

January 5th, 1770: Ninety-Six, South Carolina

General John Burgoyne left his rented home on the north eastern side of town and watched as a slight snow lightly salted the trod ground. The air smelled like construction, a scent made by freshly cut wood, sawdust, and the pungency of mules and horses. Even here in the west cabins came up quickly. The bulk of the newcomers were colonial families, who had sold their eastern properties to wealthy Englishmen for a hefty sum, allowing them to purchase larger lots and acres of uncut wilderness on the frontier.

The General mounted, followed by the men he kept at his side. On his right rode Major Horatio Gates. The dour man was quartermaster for the expedition. Burgoyne found him ill-humored and plain, a man who could easily be mistaken for a colonial by anybody who didn't know better. On his left rode a man more of Burgoyne's breeding; the Baron Lothar von Dahmetal, commander of the Prussian regiment sent by their government to aid in the clearing of these territories; an act, no doubt pointed out to King Frederick by diplomats from his majesty King George, that was to the benefit of both peoples. The differences between Major Gates and Baron von Dahmetal was visually immediate. Major Gates rode slumped, his uniform clean but plain, his expression like that of a puritan riding muleback into gin alley. Baron von Dahmetal was sharply dressed in Prussian blue, badges and metals tinkling on his breast, his cap that of a grenadier, and his expression like a monarch surveying his demesne.

They passed through the town, through soldiers off-duty bargaining with locals for goods, purchasing food and clothing for themselves before their plunge into the American wilderness. The locals came in two groups, often times distinguishable from each other; the new comers busied themselves, acting much like the soldiers in their bartering. The locals stayed in clumps, holding to themselves, eyeing newcomers and keeping their conversations low. They passed such a group of young ladies, and Burgoyne set an especially martial pose as he rode by, keeping his eye on the girl in the lead of the group, newly at the age of marriage with delightful olive skin, sparkling eyes, and hair black as crape. When they were well past her, Burgoyne turned to Major Gates.

"If you had to choose a companion in this wilderness, that one wouldn't be so bad" he said, nodding toward the girl.

"She is a Jewess, sir." Gates said dully.

"Well we share the same God, sir." Burgoyne said. "I believe we could become familiar on that common ground and discover new topics of conversation upon the expansion of our friendship."

"We all have our customs." Gates replied.

"Indeed." Burgoyne said. "And my custom is to enjoy those of others, if there is enjoyment to be found."

"I would think a man at your age would keep his enjoyment for his wife." Gates said.

Burgoyne did not dignify the Major's sally with a response. The Prussian smiled. He understood English though he found it hard to speak it.

At the center, the town was a few old log buildings interspersed with new construction. One the edge of town everything was new, with the smell of fresh lumber permeating, and work going on all around. This place did not have the nauseating scent of disaster and refugees now present in Charles Town, but the rapid growth warned that the fate of the later town could very well be in the future of the former. Or, heaven forbid, the entirety of the new world.

The Army camped on the south side of Ninety-Six creek. Threads of smoke rose from camp fires among the trees. The largest camp was that of the British Regulars, their neatly kept camp stretching on for miles and made apparent by the glow of red uniforms in the light mix of snow and haze. The Prussians kept to their own corner of the woods where the uniforms went from red to a dark blue and the smell of cooking rations took on an almost exotic smell. Surrounding them in a crescent, on the face of the hills as they slanted toward the creek, the irregulars mixed with the colonial troops in a disordered mess. There were less of them then the regulars, but they took up more room. This erked General Burgoyne, and he rode through their camp in search of their commander.

Here was a gathering of the worst; colonists, poor irregulars, and Scots. They put down their tents where they felt, if they had tents at all. Some slept under blankets hung from tree branches, or crude shelters made from sticks leaned onto poles. The colonial troops scarcely noticed an officer riding through their midst, though the others at least showed the proper respects.

He found the commanding officer near the creek, not a young man, but a younger man then Burgoyne, with dark hair tied behind his head and the tight-lipped expression of a church-going New Englander.

"Colonel Lincoln." Burgoyne called.

"What ho!" Lincoln said, startled from watering his horse. "Yes, sir?"

"There is a proper way to order a camp, and what I see here does not seem to be in line with that order. What if the enemy were to spring across this creek?"

"We would defend it well, sir." Lincoln said.

"I am sure you would make the effort." Burgoyne replied. "But it would take much of that effort just to make a line out of this. Bring your men together, man! Establish a quartermaster."

"I will take that wisdom to heart, sir." Lincoln said. "But I must petition to you that what you see is not everything that I have. The men mustered to my command haven't all arrived. What you see, sir, is a military half-baked."

"Well then, by God sir, bake it. I wish to clear these Cherokee before spring so that the coming campaign can be carried on in the summer. If there is a summer coming, I should say."

Lincoln looked surprised. "The Cherokee are not the supreme campaign? Pardon my speech, sir, but if our main thrust is not meant for them, what could it be meant for?"

"The King wishes these lands cleared to the great river." Burgoyne said.

"That is an impressive thrust."

"Yes." Burgoyne stood up straight. "That is how I intend to make it. In the mean time, sir, you and your second officer are invited to my quarters for supper tonight. If we are to go on so long a campaign, I wish all of my officers to know each other. To our relief, much of the fine drink of the old world was saved from the freeze, and we have some of it."

"I will be there, sir." Lincoln said. "Though I must admit that I do not drink."

"That is quite alright." Burgoyne smiled. "I am certain we can find water somewhere nearby the house."

RIP Florence "Mrs. Brady" Henderson

Fidel Castro was interesting because, when I looked up how old he was, I found he was younger than I thought.

Only ninety? I thought that guy was just about to touch one hundred.

You are going back to school/college and discover the above avatar Is your teacher. What do you do?

I would know the acid is kicking in.

Hunger Games: Happy Holidays Edition

And we're back! Sorry for the delay. Let's get back into the action.



As night decends, Papa Smurf with his double-fisted egg-nog, and Ash with his bloody tree, settle in for a long winter's nap.

The Elvenqueen hasn't had a good time. Despite naming Clirkus the reason for the season, she has spent her time being sad about her lack of Travolta, and having her Chestnuts stolen from her. Now she struggles to sleep, and sings "Here comes Clirkus, here comes Clirkus, right down Clirkus lane" to keep her mind off of her troubles.

Cynder invites Witch Cat to warm up near the very same fire she cooked Turbo Man on.

Bing Crosby, that Nazi-killin' sonuvabitch, is tricked by a waifu into licking a frozen pole. Just goes to show you that even a man's man can't resist the subtle wiles of a waifu on the prowl.

The Equestrian Guard argues politics with an Emoticone. Rudolph gives Ernie some pudding, which is pretty nice. Clint watched from the corner as Travolta macks on Ursula, a 'ship that would no doubt break the love-struck Elvenqueen's heart. Very little else happens, though I hurt myself and wrap my injury in colorful paper, and Saturn sleeps in a manger for some reason.



Charlie Brown, Broby, Chunk, and Sloth attempt to steal the Wicked Witch's turkey, but she fends them off. Chunk and Sloth are finally being aggressive. The interesting thing about this I think is Broby. So far Broby has made a pie crust with Putin, received a fruit cake, and joined in on the raid that took The Elvenqueen's chestnuts from her. Now he is trying to take turkey. Either Broby has a ravenous appetite, or he's planning a meal.

For the second time in these games, the voices of angels have split the sky and proclaimed Glory to Dexter Morgan. I guess it's the praying angel thing he got going in his pic there, because they are rooting for him like he is one of them. Burma wants John McClane, but can't have him because John McClane wants Witch Cat. Baby Jesus sings happy birthday songs to himself as he nods off to sleep. Frosty watches his flesh fall from the sky and collect on his body, beefing him up. Woody Guthrie is distraught by the commercialization of the holidays. Bowser gift-wraps an injury.

Clirkus, being the reason for the season, wraps himself up in a snuggie and goes out with Bert, the Grinch, and an Elf to sing about his aforementioned status. "Here comes Clirkus, here comes Clirkus, right down Clirkus lane." Santa is just sort of happy about the snow, and so is Putin, assuming snow is the white he means.



Clirkus attacks a Waifu, and Charlie Brown white knight's his way in. Thus dies the reason for the season. Dexter Morgan, tired of having angels announce his glory, goes to visit the folks. Bing Crosby, the Nazi killing badass, gives a gift to Clint, who thusfar has mostly just peeped on some kissing and received gifts. The Snuggie annoys Cynder, which seems dangerous on the Snuggie's part.

Broby and I are ambushed by Doctor Light, who smothers us in wrapping paper. We will never know what Broby was baking.

Little happens after this. Frosty and Bert go about banal everyday lives, while John McClane smothers a bleeding wound in pumpkin pie filling. Rudolph the red nosed reindeer pisses.



Bowser, having wrapped a wound in gift paper, is pretty pleased with himself, while Witch Cat drags Putin and Ernie out for some festive decorating. Earl Browder, one of America's most prominent Communists, debates Saturn, a conservative who is so against abortion that he believes in swallowing children whole just to keep them inside the body where they belong, have a fierce debate where Browder not only wins, but changes Saturn's mind. Ash apparently is, just like his Christmas tree, red.

Ursula searches for Clirkus, but Clirkus is dead. The Equestrian Royal Guard bowsers himself. The Elvenqueen and Burma, to try and cheer themselves up, go with Santa to deck some halls. Woody Guthrie scares Travolta, who flies away. Papa Smurf receives a pony. Now, like Sancho Panza on colloidal silver, Papa Smurf rides along on a tiny horse with a bottle of egg nog in each hand.

Baby Jesus, The Grinch, and An Elf go west to visit the Baby Jesus. The Wicked Witch gets in a snowball fight, which is one sided: snow can kill the witch, but it will only grow the cone. Chunk and Sloth are having a happy time which, really, I think we already knew.



Representation for the RPG is growing sparse now. Clirkus Lane has now become Clirkus Memorial Lane.

Winter Came on Forever: An 18th Century Alt-History

I added some research links in the third post of the OOC. This is mostly just a few things I wanted to keep track of without having them bookmarked, but I figure they could be useful for others. If anybody has anything to add, just say.

Hunger Games: Happy Holidays Edition

The sun rises on another day of advent as people take candies from blood-soaked calendars. Aaron, Turboman, and the Furby have perished in the night, the later at the hands of the twice-murdering Ash, who is running maniac through the arena just a'killin like the rules of the game prescribe.



And right there at the beginning, An Elf kills the gnome child in a robbery gone wrong, stealing his stocking stuffers and giving them to the Emoticone. Santa's workshop, it seems, requires Grand Theft Gift to operate. The Grinch understood all along.

Peace on earth, goodwill to Bert. Last person to have goodwill bestowed on them by the games was Cynder, who promptly harnessed that good will for the purpose of murder.

Dr. Light might be a Fairy Tale, or he might be real and made of snow. This is interesting because earlier Dr Light responded to rumors that Rudolph of red-nose fame is a fairytale by also claiming that character to be, in fact, real and made of snow. We're getting into some deep and complicated Westworld type shit here that is making my head hurt so we are moving on now...

The Grinch, having the true spirit of Christmas (theft) as presented by the elf, uses this power to destroy a child. A prodigious child this is true, but a child all the same, who is dead, by the spirit of Christmas.

Bing Crosby, being of the Greatest Generation, puts up with none of this Alt-Right shit, and he kills the fuck out of the Nazi that killed Aaron. This is interesting because he does so using fruit cake, and he was seen earlier sharpening a fruitcake. So he didn't blunt-trauma that Nazi, no no no, he turned him into a candied pin cushion.

Travolta receives a high school band. Jesus, knowing that Chanukah Zombie is a sneaky Jew disguised as Santa, slaughters him with snow. John McClane attempts to fight communism, but is too weak and has to flee. Ursula also gains a band. Meanwhile, Dexter takes up the Zombie's call and dresses as a fake santa, thus returning us to the magical "Fake/Real" Santa ratio of 2/1.



Clirkus, AKA the Reason for the Season, chases Cynder, AKA The Goodwill Baker, across a lake. Bowser kills Krampus, incidentally one of the fake Santas, and puts his head on a tree as an offering to either Baby Jesus or the real Santa. This brings us to a Santa ration of 1/1. The Wicked Witch begs for a being made of frozen water to kill her, but Frosty is horrified by the notion of using his body in such a way. A Waifu hunts for nuts, and Saturn for a drink. Mr Potato Head freezes to death, or at least becomes a Mr Ore-Ida Head. Burma helps me make a pie crust, which is good because, in real life, I made a pie crust a few weeks back for the first time in my life and everyone told me it tasted sort of like bacon, so I need the help.

The Witch Cat hears Putin wrapped in a blanket talking to it about the traffic. Charlie Brown receives lactating young women. Santa leads a raiding party of Ernie, Broby, and Woody Guthrie to relieve the Elvenqueen of her chestnuts, leaving her nutless. Clint receives drummers while Rudolph receives some girls. Chunk and Sloth, still oblivious, having failed to steal a Pumpkin Spice Latte from a fake girl and then retreated from the snow, happily roast chestnuts unaware of the carnage beyond. Ash finds a perfect Christmas Tree, and considering his predilection for blood, I expect a perfect Christmas Tree for him is probably the one with Krampus's severed head hanging in it.

Papa Smurf finds Egg-nog. In two days that is literally all he has done; find egg nog, then find more egg nog.



There they go, the second wave of honored dead. Remember those names, because they are all losers.

Hunger Games: Happy Holidays Edition

Fucking Nazis.

@Dinh AaronMk