These are the files. I hope you have everything you need.
>>797
You walk back in the direction you came. After a few paces, you notice something troubling - the little rectangle of light that, previously, promised easy return to the aboveground world of sunlight and life, is no longer there. The tunnel was perfectly straight; there's no reason why you shouldn't be able to see it. Similarly, had there been a cavein or similar, you would surely have heard it. Continue-chan seems equally troubled by this development.
You are, thankfully, still in possession of the lump of charcoal you used to deface Mecha Alexei and Jacqueline's faces. You stick one of your six silver forks into it as a handle and wrap it in the one cleaning rag you were still carrying. After some time attempting to produce a spark by rubbing two forks against one another, you give up and use your magical firelighting (active skill), costing you five mana, to leave 85 remaining. The makeshift torch lights up perfectly, illuminating the dark grey stone walls of the tunnel, Continue-chan's pale, bloodless face, and your own body.
>>798
You continue walking in the direction that should lead to Stove Stove. The passage twists around to the right, then begins to curve downwards to an alarming angle. You stop where it reaches around around forty degrees, but you can see that the angle of the tunnel continues to get steeper, to vertical, as best you can tell. It becomes obvious that you cannot get to nor pick up your companion, despite his imminent explosion, which you know nothing about.
>>799
You address your companion and recite the jocular poem you just composed:
"There once was a man called Duke,
Who loved to destroy; to nuke,
His games were fun,
Full of laser guns,
But Forever was worthy of rebuke."
Continue-chan appears more mystified than entertained. She obviously has no idea what you're talking about - in fact, you aren't entirely sure yourself.
>>800
"Marco!" you exclaim, waving your arms in some approximation of a breaststroke, limited by the narrow space. From somewhere ahead, heavily distorted by echo, comes a faint "Polo".
Keep playing Marco Polo until we win.
Descend into further confusion.
Be Continue. Say in your best Spock impression, "This is not logical, Jack."
Challenge Jack to pour a bucket of ice water over head to raise awareness of the Control Tower.
>>802
Taking no heed of personal safety, you step boldly forth into the dark chasm ahead of you, eyes screwed shut, following the sirenic allure of that half-heard "polo". As you slip over the brink, to where you can no longer stand and fall down the now vertical passage, you shout, pleadingly, "Marco!". With a faint "polo", you strike the floor at least two or three metres below you which is, thankfully, curved and thus you land uninjured. Continue-chan makes some vocalisation of distress, but does not join you. She does not understand.
You get to your feet and swim onwards. "Marco!" you shout again, desperate for that distant acknowledgement. "Polo" comes the response. The tunnel continues to twist and contort itself, changing shape or texture unexpectedly, shrinking to a size that you can only crawl through, and even turning entirely upside down. Finally, the tunnel comes to an end. Groping around, you feel a wooden door, with a cool metal doorhandle. "Marco," you whisper, voice trembling. "Polo," comes the reply, from just behind the door.
You push the door open and walk forwards while sweeping your arms about in front of you. "Marco!" you accuse. "Polo!" says someone just to your side - a fairly young, male voice. You reach out in the direction it came from, and grasp an arm. Having won, you open your eyes again to revel in your mastery of this ichthyic game.
>>803
You are shocked and confused to find yourself in some sort of ornate parlour. The room has a very high ceiling but is otherwise somewhat narrow and ill-proportioned. The floor is chequered marble, and the walls are plain white. To the East is the door you just came from. To the West is a spiral staircase leading upwards, and a closed door in the wall. To the North is a fireplace with a coffee table, a chaise longue and an armchair arranged around it. On the coffee table is a laptop with a command-line interface open.
In front of you, captured by the arm, is a young man in combat armour (apart from the helmet, which is on the seat of the armchair). He seems nervous, but very talkative. "Thank goodness I found you before the others did! Look, there's no time to explain, but a lot of people dressed like me are trying to kill you. They told me I have to try to kill you too - me! I'm just an innocent cryptographer - they told me you were dangerous, violent, that you'd killed lots of people, but I--"
He is interrupted by you grabbing him around the waist, jumping and smashing him, spine first, into the hard, marble floor, as you promised yourself to back at >>770,771. He appears badly winded.
>>804
You are now playing as Masturbation Continue-chan. Unable to muster the nerve to follow Conundrum-chan into the unknown, you have resigned yourself to wandering through the pitch black, labyrinthine tunnels, in the other direction. Why did she jump down there, anyway? What was she thinking? "This is not logical, Jack." you mutter. Your voice sounds a little odd as you say it.
>>805
You attempt to lure Jack Conundrum-chan back to you with offers of bizarre and nonsensical actions, but she does not respond to your coaxing.
Try to remember a past life as a horrific tentacle-beast.
Follow your heart to the exit.
>>807
You remember a past life as a cute little girl, growing up in semi-rural Japan. You remember a largely carefree and idyllic life, shared with your beloved childhood friend, Jack Conundrum-chan. You remember being very fond of Conundrum-chan, very fond indeed; such that you began carrying around a knife and having extreme, impulsive feelings of resentment and anger towards anyone perceived as taking her away from you. You also remember that one time the two of you were playing doctor and y-- no, wait, that never happened.
At any rate, you can't remember any time at which you were a horrific tentacle-beast, literally or metaphorically. That would be ridiculous.
>>808
Your heart seems to be quite firmly lodged in your ribcage, and isn't really going anywhere. Instead, you metaphorically follow your heart by choosing your own path out. A walk in the opposite direction to where Conundrum-chan went does not bring you to the little cubic room which should be ahead; instead, the passage branches and loops madly, inclining up and down without any clear pattern or meaning. You wander the maze of twisty little passages, alone in the darkness. After you have been wandering for about an hour, you find yourself - along with the rest of the universe - annhialated by Stove Stove's self destruction.
GAME OVER
Deaths: 36
(Continuing from most recent saved game: >>806)
Say "xyzzy".
Be Jack. Give the cryptographer a long deep kiss.
Warn cryptographer that if he goes anywhere near your crotch, he will die.
But don't do it in a threatening tone. We don't want to sound prude. Make it sound like the crotch void is an object of universal fear.
Explain that spine busters are just our way of saying "I love you."
Explain that the spine, Buster, loves you.
Quietly say "I love busting spines too."
>>810
"XYZZY," you say. From somewhere, a long way away, comes a faint reply: "Polo".
>>811
You are now playing as Jack Conundrum-chan. While your new friend is still temporarily supine and incapacitated, you softly, but firmly, clamp your nubile little lips over his, and press your tongue into his mouth. He attempts to resist momentarily, but soon gives up. He goes limp beneath you. He seems to have passed out.
>>812,813
You sit on his chest, waiting patiently for him to return to consciousness so you can convey your important warning to him. For a minute or two all is silent but your own breathing and the ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece. Finally, the cryptographer's eyelids flutter open again.
You press your face close to his, smile (you hope) reassuringly, and commiserate that, for his own safety, he cannot look/touch under your skirt, partly due to the fact that you aren't wearing any pantsu. He stammers something about not being a lolicon, that he doesn't want to cause you any trouble, that he's just a poor innocent cryptographer, and so on. He seems quite distressed.
>>814
Without letting him get up, you kindly explain that your rather physical greeting was in fact an expression of affection. He screws his eyes closed and says "Please, I'll do anything, just please, don't hurt me. I'll do anything you want." There are tears forming in the corners of his eyes.
>>815
At your unassuming comment about your spine, his eyes shoot open. He struggles and tries to sit upright. He speaks frantically, unable to control his voice; "No! No, no, you're not supposed to know about that! Who told you? That w--"
Then, just as suddenly, he drops to the floor, dead. A pool of blood spreads from under the back of his neck.
>>816
Plunged without warning back into uncomfortable silence, accompanied only by the interminable ticking of the clock, you feel a desperate need to offer some comment, to give yourself some closure to the incident. "I love busting spines too," you say meekly, hoping that nobody hears.
Ask Buster what that was all about.
Put laptop in crotch-void. Start fire in fireplace using dead guard as kindling.
Be Continue. Go in the direction of the voice, but try saying "plugh" too, just in case.
>>818
Buster remains as uncommunicative as ever, ignoring your query like a sulking teenager.
>>819
Recalling with joy the last time you touched a computer, back at >>591,593 and what a wonderful idea it was to smother it with your crotch - one which you never regretted for a moment - you decide to reenact the event with the laptop on the coffee table. "Enter encryption key" it protests, but you spare no mercy. It vanishes up your skirt.
You find the fireplace to be wide and spacious; ideal for disposing of dead bodies. You strip the poor cryptographer and contemplate how best to convert him to kindling. The combat armour is, unfortunately, not even remotely flammable. You relieve him of all his clothing and set them aside, then drag him into the fireplace, face down, such that his head and shoulders are crammed in as far as they'll go. Using the makeshift torch you had from earlier, you set his hair alight. It eventually catches.
Once the fire is large enough, you start to add the more flammable portion of his apparel, which eagerly joins the blaze. Somehow, you simply can't stop here; there's so much more to burn! You start by flipping the coffee table over, tearing off its legs and piling them around the already quite serious mound of flame. Before you know it, you're tearing the covering from the armchair, breaking the coffee table into planks and burning, burning, more, more! A strange cackling escapes your lips. All you can see is flames.
>>820
You are now playing as Masturbation Continue-chan. You uncertainly follow the voice a few paces forwards. "Plugh," you say uncertainly. "Polo," replies the mysterious voice; a woman's, quite confident, not unkind. It sounds quite close, actually. You continue to walk, glad that you might well soon be out of this abominable darkness, and even with some companionship. And if they should prove unfriendly, you're still armed with a laser gun.
You take another step forth but your foot doesn't meet the floor. With a muffled scream, you fall forwards, downwards, and then keep falling for several stomach wrenching seconds. Finally, you strike the floor, more or less legs first, in a way that you're quite confident would've been your demise were you not already dead and reanimated.
You feel around. You are still in complete darkness. One or both of your legs are broken. Your right hip is also especially painful. You try to stand, but find you cannot put any weight on your lower body.
Sing Megadeth's "Kill the King" while trying to crawl out of the pit.
Be Stove Stove. Use Telekinesis to pull the left tunnel out of the ground. Or move the ground out of the way. Whatever it takes to completely expose those horrid labyrinthian depths to the glory of the sun light (the flower which can not be licked.)
Lick the sun.
Be Jack. Put on the guard's uniform and do a cartwheel.
Lick up blood from the floor. Wonder what killed the guard, that no skill points nor mana were allotted.
Ignore the pain and dance like a monkey.
Be the dead guy. Ignore the monkey and dance like a pain.
Plead for necromantic romance.
>>822
In dire need of something to uplift your spirits, you try to sing a nice song. Unfortunately, you don't know any nice songs. Instead, you end up singing to yourself some sort of threnody about regicide, which doesn't make you feel much better. You try to crawl out of wherever you are, but you cannot reach any sides; it is just a flat, stone floor as far as you can feel. In your blind gropings, you accidentally grasp a human foot. It is cold to the touch, and there is no response from any human that may or may not be attached to it.
>>823
You are now playing as Stove Stove. You are disappointed to find that your telekinesis skill works only for items which can move independently of one another, whereas the tunnel and the ground above it are firmly attached to the rest of the Earth, which is a little above your limit of 10,000kg. Even more distressingly, you find that it has clouded over, and is beginning to drizzle. Your pitiful inability to cast sunlight on the godforsaken lifeless maze below leaves you so upset that you accidentally self destruct prematurely.
GAME OVER
Deaths: 37
(Continuing from most recent saved game: >>821)
>>824
You use your short range teleportation (active skill) to slowly, ten metres at a time, make your way towards the Sun. Unfortunately, you run out of mana after a mere 99 kilometres - not even passing the moon's orbit, and making it only about 0.000066% of the way to your destination. You float, alone, in space, surrounded on all sides by the silent, judgemental glare of the stars. Only then do you remember that you don't even have a tongue. You self destruct in shame.
GAME OVER
Deaths: 38
(Continuing from most recent saved game: >>821)
>>825
You are now playing as Jack Conundrum-chan. After a hazy period of which you remember little, you come to your senses in the same room you were in earlier. There are signs of severe fire damage, centred around the fireplace. There is also a fairly large pile of charred remains, including several human bones. All of the furniture has been dismantled and fed to the fire, and even the door you came through has been torn from its hinges and burned. The door to the West bears marks indicating attempted destruction, but has withstood the onslaught well. You also appear to have set fire to all of your clothing, and much of your hair, leaving you entirely nude.
You find that everything non-flammable, including six silver forks, an espada ropera, a ceremonial stone knife and a set of combat armour, has been relegated to the Southeast corner of the room. The armour proves to be far too big for you. You can just about wear the piece covering the chest, the bottom of which reaches almost to your knees. You try to do a cartwheel but, unaccustomed to the uneven weight of the armour, end up losing your balance and falling over.
>>826
The blood was quite close to the blaze, and seems to have evaporated and been covered in ash and soot. You lick the floor where you remember it being. It tastes how fire smells - a scent you have come to be quite fond of - with a faint metallic aftertaste. Rather agreeable. You have no idea who killed the poor cryptographer, but it certainly wasn't you.
>>827
Though the armour is uncomfortable, it is by no means painful, and the wounds on your hands are not particularly troubling now. You have no pain to ignore. You dance back and forth around the room, jumping and waving your arms like a simian.
>>828
You cannot be the dead guy; you can only play as members of your current party.
>>829
You feel a strange compulsion rise up from somewhere deep within you. "Continue-chan, my beloved Continue-chan, I love you! Please, love me back!" you confess to no one in particular. The sound of a girl's chuckling reaches you from up the spiral staircase. "Well, at least you're honest about your feelings," the familiar voice remarks nonchalantly.
You feel a lump form in your stomach. That is not Continue-chan's voice.
Quickly find something to cover the Void of Doom in your pantie area.
Wield the espada ropera in one hand and six forks in the other.
>>831
Thankfully, the piece of armour you're wearing already reaches down to your knees, so the most precious, intimate and murderous part of your anatomy is safely concealed from prying eyes. Unless you try to do the splits or something, that is.
>>832
You grasp the elegant, thin sword as best you can in your left hand; the one with the right number of fingers, and gather the forks in your right hand in a clumsy, loose fistful.
From upstairs, the bewitching voice calmly comments, "I can see you've had a lot of fun down there, but, why, it seems you're lonely, you poor thing. Fear not, my dear! Here comes some company." At this moment, the door to the West is blown clean off its hinges, cast through the air so hard it flies all the way to the other side of the room and shatters into splinters. You are mercifully uninjured. Through the now vacant doorway, you can see a large ballroom with intricate parquet flooring. The room extends out of sight to the North and South. The Western wall is lined with large, elegant windows, overlooking a stately garden. Above, a mezzanine encircles the room.
You are, however, more distracted by the large, rather threatening looking humanoid robot, standing near the centre of the room. It is about four metres in height, sleek matte blue in colour, with decorative white panels in places along the limbs. It is standing in a battle-ready pose, legs spread and half crouching. The right arm - which terminates in a large, circular barrel - is pointed at where the door just was. The left is hanging at its side. It has a humanoid hand, but also a set of slim, cylindrical barrels, reminiscent of a Gatling gun, extending from the forearm. In place of a head, there is a small, white rabbit in a padded seat, hunched over a set of controls. The rabbit is looking at you with a cruel glint in its eye.
Give the robot a spine buster.
Do a cute bunny hop.
>>834
You charge recklessly towards the enormous, threatening robot. It points its left arm at you and releases a spray of bullets in your direction. Thankfully, your young, sprightly nature allows you to move fast enough to elude the hurtful little projectiles. You run headlong towards the legs of your enormous, mechanical opponent and jump, gripping it around the waist. Unfortunately, you find that you cannot even reach the floor, let alone lift the accursed thing off the floor and throw it to the ground. Instead, you feel it pick you up with its left hand, gripping you around the chest, and toss you through the air. You land, heavily, about ten metres away.
>>835
You just manage to pick yourself from the floor to find the robot's right hand pointed at you. In hopes of appeasement, you turn to give a profile view, hold your hands out, limp wristed, like rabbit paws, and hop forwards one, small pace. "Pyon pyon!" you say. Something is shot from the robot's arm cannon, so fast you cannot even see it. It strikes you in the head, killing you instantly.
GAME OVER
Deaths: 39
(Continuing from most recent saved game: >>833)
Spinebuster
Throw the forks at the robot and then dive out of the way of the inevitable bullets. Take advantage of the confusion to hide somewhere.
Spinebuster the robot on something sharp and jagged
Be Jack's Crotch Void of Doom. Eat everyone.
>>837
You try your very hardest to spinebuster, but, to your dismay, spinebuster is not a verb - and even if it was, it would be transitive.
>>838
In a David-and-Goliathesque manner, you hurl your precious forks at the robotic behemoth. Four of them clatter off the bodywork harmlessly, one misses and flies over its shoulder, but the last, by some miracle, gets caught under an overlapping plate, somewhere around where the right clavicle would be on a human. The robot finds that its right arm is now paralysed, thus it must turn its entire body to aim the large cannon-shaped arm.
After a moment's distraction, the robot, as expected, aims its left arm at you and releases a stream of deadly little bullets in your direction. You manage to run and dive out of the way, but are faced with a distinct lack of potential concealment places. There is a grand piano in the Northeast corner of the room and a closed set of double doors in the North wall but both are at least fifteen metres away, and you suspect that you'd have difficulty reaching them in one piece. Similarly, in the Southwest corner is a door leading outside to the door, but that is further away still.
In order to hide, you finally elect to just circle around the robot and run back into the room you came from. It is much the same as when you left it, including the stone knife, the remainder of the guard's armour, the spiral staircase and the huge pile of smouldering remains. The doorway is too small and narrow for the robot to enter directly, but that won't keep it out forever.
>>839
Wincing inwardly at "spinebuster" being shoehorned into verbdom, you attempt to find some way to damage your nemesis by throwing it, spine first, onto something sharp and jagged. Unfortunately, the only sharp thing in your possession is your sword, which is not at all jagged and, besides, would probably snap like a twig under the robot's weight.
>>840
You are now playing as Jack's Crotch Void of Doom. You find yourself, a sentient pocket universe, lurking surreptitiously behind a tiny aperture into another, much larger and more complex universe. You aren't sure exactly where this aperture is. You spend most of your time staring out of this aperture and trying (without much success) to make sense of the vertiginous, kaleidoscopic view. Occasionally an object made of matter comes through - how exciting! You treasure these objects deeply.
You try to eat everyone, but you aren't really sure what "eating" is; nor, for that matter, what "everyone" is. You decide "eat" probably means "continue staring at" and "everyone" probably means "the view into the other universe". You do so.
Look behind you.
Eject a mobile armed robot suit sized for a little-girl into the larger universe.
Eject all the other shit that's been thrown in there too. Except the tentacle monster. That shit can stay where it is.
>>842
You try to look behind yourself, but in what dimension? Can your position even be defined in such relativistic terms? Do dimensions even exist outside of yourself? Does anything exist outside of yourself? You could spend millennia contemplating such conundra.
>>843
You aren't sure what a "mobile armed robot suit sized for a little-girl" is, although you're fairly sure you know what "ejecting" is; that's what supernovae do, isn't it? Anyway, with such a palaverous description, surely it must correspond to that big, squirming, violent thing. You go ahead and return it to its native habitat, via that strange little aperture.
>>844
You aren't sure what a "tentacle monster" is, so you just go ahead and launch everything: a laptop, a pair of black - or possibly dark grey - trousers (in the pockets of which are three cleaning rags, eleven files, a small metal key and a half empty container of salt), a suit of combat armour, a laser gun, a very confused and disorientated gentleman in combat armour and wielding a laser gun, and a cheese sandwich. Not that you know what any of these things are.
Be Jack. Nonchalantly eat sandwich.
Hide behind the confused gentleman and say, "help me, oniisan!!"
Leave the tentacle monster and giant robot to reconcile their differences through the medium of fatal violence.
>>846
You are now playing as Jack Conundrum-chan. You find yourself on your back, thrown to the floor, having just involuntarily passed a huge volume of material through your crotch - including, most troublingly, an all-too-familiar enormous dark brown tentacled monster. It screams at an inhuman volume and pitch, appendages whipping madly around everywhere. It seems as though its detention in your crotch has annealed it into a mass of pure, distilled madness and hatred.
But what do you care? More importantly, there's that cheese sandwich you wanted back at >>282,288,305,354,375! You grasp it from underneath a pair of trousers, and happily take a bite. It's not bad, not bad at all. A little too much filling, perhaps, or too flimsy a choice of bread, but you can't have everything.
>>847
As the tentacled creature exits into the ballroom, still screaming, you notice a human form in the debris left in its wake. A man in combat armour sits up, slowly takes off his helmet and rubs his face and eyes. He looks around uncomprehendingly, turning to stare at you with a rather unflattering slackjawed expression. You move to position him between you and the doorway to the ballroom, employing a familiar cognomen to encourage his aid.
"Nii... san..." he mouths weakly. "Yes... yes! Don't worry, my dear; I, your beloved Onii-chan, will protect you." He gets up, unsteadily, and points his laser gun cautiously into the fray outside the room.
>>848
You watch casually as the two colossal beings battle to the death. The tentacle beast shows no clemency, immediately lunging for the robot. The robot retreats several bounding steps, with suppressive fire from its left arm, to disappointingly little effect. Still impeded by the fork caught in its arm, it barely succeeds in lowering its right arm at the tentacles, and fires an orb of bluish white light. It explodes on impact, causing significant damage - the monster loses at least three of four tentacles, and the area is splattered with its black blood. Though you scarcely thought it possible, it screams even louder than before.
It continues its advance, cornering the robot by the grand piano. The robot waits until the last moment, then launches what appears to be a jetpack module from its back, flying over the head(?) of the tentacle monster and landing behind it, along with a burst of fire from its left arm. The tentacle monster proves impressively unfazed, and, in fact, succeeds in grabbing the left leg of the robot. With a vicious tug, the humanoid machine is toppled and pinned on its back. The left arm is stuck pointing at the ceiling.
The rabbit in the control seat frantically punches at its controls, and the left leg is ejected at the hip and abandoned to the tentacles. The rest of the robot jumps backwards, barely keeping its balance, trying to shift to point the left arm at its enemy. Now is your chance; a single move now on your part - even as little as a distraction - could decide the victor.
Tell your new Onii-chan to shoot at the evil, evil bunny with his laser.
Throw salt on the tentacle monster.
>>850
"Onii-chan! Shoot the bunny!" you implore, tugging at his sleeve. He does as instructed, but the rabbit is not so easily foiled. It chooses that moment to abandon ship, just dodging the laser shot which leaves a circular scorch mark in the back of its seat. It hits the ground, rolls, and scampers off towards you, just as the tentacles converge upon and begin to violently dismember the robot. There is a loud beeping noise.
>>851
Grabbing the blue container of salt poking from the trousers on the floor, you charge boldly forth and forcefully salinate the mercifully preoccupied titan conflagration of appendages. The tiny white crystals arc through the air towards the beast. The tentacle monster explodes. Now, this could be because the rabbit had set its steed to violently self-destruct, but in a world where butterflies can cause hurricanes can you really be so sure of matters of causality? If the entire system depends on its own previous state, could you not argue that everything is a cause of everything else? And could you not also argue that you just caused the death of that foul beast?
For killing a sapient being, you have gained one skill point and fifty mana.
The rabbit appears, quite prudently, to be galloping away from the impending airborne remains of the tentacle monster. It is heading towards your Onii-chan, who is currently aiming his laser gun at the poor, defenceless little thing.
eat a piece of the tentacle monster.
Store the rabbit in crotch-void for safekeeping.
>>853
As the mass of murderous, sadistic flesh and tentacles explodes outwards, right beside you, you decide to take the opportunity to taste this rare speciality dish. By appearance you suspect it might taste like escargot, but you wonder if your delicate salting might affect the taste, and whether the fiery explosion will be enough to cook it - or overcook it? You've really no experience eating tentacle monsters.
You open your mouth to receive the airborne meal, only to find that the long, thick cable-like tentacle heading your way is a little more than you can manage. It strikes you in the face, knocking you to the ground so hard that your skull is cracked. You bleed to death, unconscious.
GAME OVER
Deaths: 40
(Continuing from most recent saved game: >>852)
>>854
You run after the cute little lagomorph, narrowly missing a tentacle which brushes your scalp before hitting the edge of the mezzanine and exploding in a shower of gore. Ignoring this, you leap, crotch first, onto the rabbit. It screeches in terror, then vanishes. Onii-chan appears rather confused at this turn of events. For that matter, he seems quite confused generally.
Kiss Onii-chan and tell him he did well.
Put skill point into pyromancy. >:)
Eat a piece of the tentacle monster now that it's no longer traveling at high velocity.
Ask Onii-chan about his navel.
>>856
You skip towards your Onii-chan, stand on tip-toes and press your little lips against his cheek. You congratulate him on his exemplary laser gun firing abilities, and tell him it isn't his fault he missed. He smiles uncertainly.
From directly above you, you hear enthusiastic clapping and a girl's voice exclaiming "Bravo! Bravo!".
>>857
You now have level four pyromancy. You have unlocked the following skill:
Fire resistance (passive skill): Are significantly more resistant - though not entirely immune - to burns inflicted by heat, smoke inhalation and retinal damage from looking at burning objects.
>>858
You pick up a lump of flesh and press it into your mouth. It is covered in a thick black fluid, possibly the creature's blood. It is at once thick and leathery and yet spongy, with a dreadful slick, slimy mouthfeel. It tastes salty but has a faint undercurrent of rotting fruit. Your teeth cannot even penetrate it, let alone masticate and ablate it enough to swallow, so in the end you give up and spit it out. The small pile of meat stares back at you from the parquet flooring, accusingly.
>>859
Onii-chan looks shocked and says "I... how did you know I don't have a navel?"
Having finally finished applauding, the girl upstairs speaks to you. "What a wonderful performance, don't you think?" she purrs, "Why, I almost feel it deserves an encore..."
Grind rejected piece of tentacle monster contemptuously under your heel and command the voice to come down and fight like a scary magical girl.
Celebrate fire resistance by setting a piece of the tentacle monster on fire and holding it like a torch.
You feel a strange compulsion to check your current pyromancy level. As you thought, it is of course, five, because four plus one is five, not four.
>>861
You stamp firmly upon the abominable morsel of flesh. It squelches apologetically beneath your bare foot. You attempt to coax the mysterious little girl above you to fight you honourably, but to no avail. "Don't be silly," she admonishes, "I'm the final boss; you only get to fight me somewhere around >>960, and only after tying up all the side-plots."
>>862
Enjoying the thought of your newfound dominance of the element of fire, you take a remnant of tentacle, hold it at arm's length and spend five mana (to leave 130 remaining) on wreathing it in flame. Unfortunately, it doesn't seem particularly flammable.
"Surprise!" shouts the girl upstairs. The double doors at the North end of the ballroom explode from their hinges, and in burst four men, each of whom look exactly like Mecha Alexei Fujiwara, including the mechanical implants, and even the lack of trousers and the angular bulge in the underwear. They are all armed with laboratory equipment; one with a retort stand (complete with boss and clamp), one with a large chromatography column, one with a stack of petri dishes, and one with two glass conical flasks filled with a reddish brown, fuming liquid.
Bite a crotch bulge.
Distract the Mecha clones by flashing our oppai, then shoot fireballs at each of them.
Be Stove Stove. Don't explode.
>>864
Mindblowingly awesome as that would no doubt be, you require level 12 telekinesis, level 5 healing, level 5 thaumaturgy and 75 mana to shapeshift. You currently have level 0 telekinesis, level 4 healing and level 2 thaumaturgy.
>>865
Given your opponents' characteristic meekness, you decide a bold, reckless attack is best. You run towards them and dive, face first, into the crotch of the Mecha Alexei clone wielding the chromatography column. He screams, loses grasp of the weapon, and falls onto his back. You bite viciously into his underwear, teeth encountering a certain resistance: it's something cube shaped, probably plastic.
At that moment you are struck on the back of the head by the business end of a retort stand, knocking you to the ground and giving you severe concussion. You are unable to avoid the subsequent attacks, and your life is swiftly brought to an end.
GAME OVER
Deaths: 41
(Continuing from most recent saved game: >>863)
>>866
You find that, as you are wearing nothing but a single piece of combat armour, flashing your oppai would require being totally nude. You proceed anyway, but make sure to cover your crotch with your right hand. The Mecha Alexei clones appear suitably distracted, so you drop your espada ropera and begin summoning and casting fireballs at all of them. The first strikes Retort Stand Mecha Alexei in the chest, knocking him to the ground and setting his shirt on fire. He starts rolling on the floor, trying to put out the flames.
Meanwhile, the other three, now made aware of the danger, make a tactful retreat into the room they came from. You can see that it has white tiled flooring and several long, straight benches; it's probably a laboratory of some sort. You fire at Chromatography Column Mecha Alexei as he is retreating, and catch him in the side. He drops his weapon, which shatters on the ground, and is left clutching his arm as he hides from view. You also fire at Conical Flask Mecha Alexei, but miss.
Petri Dish Mecha Alexei gingerly looks around the corner and throws several little glass discs at you. You find that his ocular implant and cybernetically enhanced hand have greatly improved his aim and strength, and, although one misses, you are struck twice in the collarbone and left cheek. Both leave small cuts, but neither seems life threatening. You retaliate with another fireball, but are too late, and miss. Having fired four fireballs you have expended 60 mana, leaving 70 mana remaining.
>>867
You are now playing as Stove Stove. You try desperately to rescind your imminent demise, but you cannot think of anything but your own abandonment. The countdown ticks ever onwards; you have 39 minutes and 12 seconds until you explode.
Call a truce. There's no time for fighting, we need to save the universe!
(first being Jack)
Ero.
Sasai Shuya
rouhyou931th@yahoo.co.jp
>>869,870
You are now playing as Jack Conundrum-chan. Having the blood of so many on your hands already, you feel an immense weight upon your soul. If you have any hope of redeeming yourself you must learn to solve your problems with words, not senseless murder. You call out to the Mecha Alexeis, impressing upon them the need to save the universe. "From what?" interjects Petri Dish Mecha Alexei, having temporarily ceased fire.
>>871
"Ero," you reply. "I mean, just look at me; I'm completely naked! And you, you all have no trousers and bulging underwear! I know the bulges are just Rubik's cubes, but that's not the point. The point is that this universe has become far too erotic for an innocent young girl like myself to live in. As a former teacher, I think it is your moral duty to provide your former student with a learning environment free from unnecessary lewdness."
After a moment's thought, Petri Dish and Chromatography Column Mecha Alexeis emerge from the laboratory. They agree with your analysis of the situation, and concur that underage children should never be sexualised, nor placed in sexual situations. Chromatography Column Mecha Alexei throws a lab coat your way, so you can conceal your shameful, shameful body. Two Mecha Alexei Fujiwara clones have joined your party.
Retort Stand Mecha Alexei, meanwhile, has stopped rolling on the floor and appears to have passed out, though he is also no longer on fire. Conical Flask Mecha Alexei is nowhere to be found, and the armed guard from earlier, along with the laptop, have also vanished.
Ask Mecha Alexei to teach us physics.
Search for Onii-chan! We can't just leave him behind!
>>873
In all honesty, you weren't really expecting that argument to work, but you find yourself now tied down to the rights and responsibilities you have set forth with the Mecha Alexeis. Clothing yourself with the lab coat, you politely request tutelage in the study of physics. Buoyantly enthused, the two of them guide you into the laboratory and over to the whiteboard, where they explain, over the course of about half an hour, the general principles of classical and quantum physics, give qualitative explanations of thermodynamics and electromagnetism, and even touch on relativity. They also teach you a few useful concepts such as SI prefixes and units, scientific notation and dimensional analysis. You feel slightly overwhelmed.
>>874
With a pang of compunction, you remember that that poor gentleman from earlier is still missing - you cannot simply leave him behind in your quest for knowledge! He must learn about physics as well. Enlisting the aid of the Mecha Alexeis, you begin searching in the laboratory. You find a lot of obscure chemicals, glassware, laboratory notes, lasers, sources of radiation and other such delights, but not your Onii-chan. In the ballroom you find that Retort Stand Mecha Alexei has regained consciousness, but has suffered fairly serious burns across his chest. His retort stand has also gone missing, strangely enough.
Returning to where you last saw your former companion, you find that the parlour is still covered in ash and burned flesh as before. There are fresh footprints - a male's, wearing shoes - in the soot, leading to the spiral staircase. You ascend, finding yourself in a long hallway. To the West is the mezzanine above the ballroom. To the North is a door, ajar, opening onto an ornate dressing room, where you see the girl in the lilac dress sitting brushing her long, black hair. She smiles on noticing you. To the South is a closed door. To the East, the corridor continues a few tens of metres before reaching an old white, wooden door with a pane of frosted glass. It seems strangely out of place.
>>875
But never mind all that! You've more important things to be learning. Unfortunately, you cannot find any colleges, so you improvise instead. You work out that you require another sixteen skill points to unlock the shapeshifting ability, which would mean ritually murdering at least eight sapient beings. As far as living sapient beings are concerned, you know of four Mecha Alexeis in the vicinity, who may or may not be reanimated (and hence would not give skill points), plus the girl in lilac, who you are uncertain you could kill, plus Stove Stove and Onii-chan who are nowhere to be found.
Ask the girl to brush our hair.
Take the moon. Take the sun. Take anything that seems like fun. Stir it all up.
Take on me, take me on
>>877
"Please... would you... brush my hair?" you ask bashfully. She tilts her head to one side and smiles at you like an elderly dollmaker smiling at his finest creation. "Of course," she whispers. You sit by her feet and feel the bristles of the brush, in her loving, capable hands, glide along your scalp, easing apart your tussled, knotted, and in places burnt hair. You close your eyes and think of nothing in particular. The girl hums something: an old, simple melody; one you don't recognise, but which puts you deeply at ease.
>>878
You cannot locate, nor reach, the Moon or Sun, but - as it seems like fun - take a few minutes to reflect upon what "taking" a celestial body would even mean. It usually implies some sort of ownership, but ownership itself is already a somewhat cloudy issue. For instance, there is an American flag on the moon; does that mean it is "taken" by the USA? Well, no - but why not? Is it because they don't (or wouldn't be able to?) defend it from others attempting to take ownership? Is it the physical properties - proximity? Size? If so, what is the cut off point? A country can clearly be "taken", as history shows, but how could you take the Moon? You stir up all these arguments, but don't reach any meaningful conclusion.
>>879
You attempt to take on >>879, but unfortunately your only clue as to their identity is one solitary anonymous post on the internet, to which you don't even have access in your present predicament. You have no reason to suspect that >>879 is able to read your thoughts, but for what it's worth, you take them on via the age-old internet practice of groundless insult. "Fuck you. I hope you die slowly and painfully, you slow-witted, inarticulate sack of shit," you think to them.
You should just kill yourself Jack, your life is worthless, nobody loves you, your mother is a slut-eating cuntmuffin and your father is a whoremongering pussy-scab!
I don't know who that >>881 guy is trying to imitate me. He couldnt' even get my name right.
I harbor no ill will towards Jack.
But I will destroy him.
Jack, lift the little girl's dress and stare into her crotch.
>>881
You momentarily feel a faint prick of irritation, like the buzzing of a small insect. You dismiss it as nothing.
>>882
In one sudden motion, you grasp the hem of the girl's dress, throw it into the air, and duck your head under it. Looking up, you see... you see... light, blinding light, of every possible colour, radiating outwards in shifting, overlapping rays and beams. You never knew such beauty even existed. You spend minutes just staring at it, unable to look away, or even form a coherent thought. As you watch, it increases in intensity, more and more rays forming in ever more complex and beautiful motions. Then, something begins to form in the centre, a shape, it looks like...
But then, at that very moment, the universe explodes thanks to your companion Stove Stove.
GAME OVER
Deaths: 42
(Continuing from most recent saved game: >>880)
Since the little girl seems to have the ability to make clones, ask her to send a clone of us out to console Stove Stove.
Failing that, find Stove Stove yourself and send him to time out in the Void.
>>884
The girl stops brushing your hair, laughs conspiratorially and proposes that you join her in the laboratory downstairs. You do so. Once there, she turns on a computer at the side of the room, opens a program, types in a few lines of abstruse looking code, then closes it again. She then takes your hand and guides you through a door at the back of the room, along a narrow service corridor, down two flights of stairs and to a small basement room. In the centre of the room is a strange metal capsule with various wires and pipes leading from it into the floor. The capsule opens to reveal a perfect clone of yourself, differing only in that she is wearing a seifuku, has no obvious injuries to her hands, and her hair is not burnt as yours is.
The girl in lilac makes an odd hand gesture over the unconscious body, which opens its eyes, then, in the next instant, vanishes. "There!" she declares triumphantly, "I've sent a clone of you to say some kind words to Stove Stove. Of course, I can't promise what else she might or might not do..."
>>885
You think that Stove Stove should consider him/her/them/itself very lucky that you aren't around to administer some crotch-based castigation.
Go back to the computer and type random things.
>>887
You skip gaily back to the laboratory, eager to prove your worth as a mad scientist. With a flourish of the wrist and a few keystrokes, you type "random things" on the keyboard of the computer and hit enter.
RANDOMISING GENOME OF SAMPLES T, H, I, N, G, S...COMPLETED
Type:
random abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz0123456789type "sudo shutdown now"
Attempt to edit text file in VIM.
>>892
You spend a few moments wondering how to operate this strange contraption. The screen offers no clues; the only things displayed are your commands and the computer's responses, all in unapologetic block capital white on black monospace text. There is no interface to speak of. The keyboard has only the letters A to Z, numbers 0 to 9, an enter key and a backspace.
You begin to type in "run vim", but only get as far as "ru" when you are struck, hard, on the back of the head by something made of glass. It shatters. You feel your scalp and the back of your neck splashed by something liquid. It burns! And not the nice, pretty sort of burning, the effects of which you are now resistant to; a horrible, chemical sort of burning. You collapse to the floor, twisting around to see what you are being attacked by. The last thing you perceive is Conical Flask Mecha Alexei charging at you, wielding a conical flask in one hand and a retort stand in the other. The retort stand hits you in the head. You are killed.
GAME OVER
Deaths: 43
(Continuing from most recent saved game: >>891)
Stand up, turn around, and go on a bloody hunt to ritualistically kill every sapient being we come across to gain mana, using our signature SpineBuster (tm) ritual-chanting knife-heart-stab combo!
Be Stove Stove, do a break dance without pants!
Be Continue. Attempt to treat your wounds.
>>894
You rise to your feet, feeling an all too familiar bloodlust coursing through your veins. This fragile allyship you've forged with the two Mecha Alexeis could never stand when they're just a ritualistic chant and a stab wound away from providing you with skill points and mana. A red mist descends over your vision, and you lose control of your actions. You are now nothing but a receptacle for the will of Eris, Huitzilopochtli, Armok, Shezmu, Khorne, Oyashiro-sama and whoever else wants blood.
>>895
You are now playing as Stove Stove. You find yourself on the edge of a large crater in a forest. Standing beside you, affectionately caressing your upper face, is the lovely Jack Conundrum-chan. She came back for you! Now you don't have to self-destruct! You're so glad you can scarcely express it in words. In fact, you can't express it in words because you aren't capable of speech, just as you are incapable of wearing pants. Instead, you express it in dance, by spinning around on one vertex in a display of what is apparently known as "breakdancing". Jack Conundrum-chan is surprised and elated by your exploits.
When you are finished, she goes back to stroking you and says, in a serious tone, "I need your help, Stove Stove. There's a mansion in the forest - it's just down that dirt track - and... and... Oh, it's so dreadful! Our former ally, Mecha Alexei, has betrayed us, and with the aid of his sick, unnatural sciences has created a clone of me. You can tell us apart by the fact that the clone still has wounds on her hands (I healed mine), and she's not wearing a seifuku like I am, because they couldn't clone that part. Quick, there's no time to lose! We have to infiltrate the mansion and kill my clone, along with Mecha Alexei."
>>896
You are now playing as Masturbation Continue-chan. You find yourself in complete darkness, lying on a stone floor, with severely injured legs and, currently, holding what seems to be a human foot. Thankfully, being undead, your wounds cannot be classed as life-threatening. In fact, the only thing which could threaten your continued existence is your bodily integrity being brought below 80%, at which point you would permanently deanimate. Though your legs are quite badly injured, and thus no longer serviceable, a cursory manual investigation reveals that they are by no means deformed, so you are in no real peril. On the other hand, as you are undead, your injuries will no longer heal over time. It's possible that Conundrum-chan's magical healing ability could help, but she's nowhere to be found. You have no other means of treatment at your disposal.
You hear a very faint murmuring coming from the same direction as the human foot you are holding.
Investigate murmuring, but use the severed foot to prod ahead in the darkness rather than risk touching anything untoward.
Hum a soft, soothing tune.
( ・-・) 900 GET