Loudly demand apology juice.
Oh, excuse me, Ricky. Ricky, I did see what you were doing.
>>396
Those dismembered, bloodthirsty body parts are certainly a threat. But they are the evil you know - you are well aware how dangerous they are, whereas the potential danger of the unknown is unbounded. However dire your current situation, surely it is, on average, better to spend your time anticipating the less obvious perils. Like toxoplasmosis.
As you know, this insidious breed of parasite tries to infiltrate you using cute, unassuming cats as Trojan horses (Trojan cats?) and attacks from within. It is often entirely asymptomatic, but believed by many to subtly affect cognition, increasing likelihood of a plethora of mental disorders. How devious! Really, you decide, this simply must be your first priority.
A cold, clammy, but all too active hand grasps your ankle, while you are busy trying to think back to your last instance of cat exposure. It must've been back at >>277 when you spent the night intimately close to Ariadne and Theodore. Oh no, Ariadne is in danger as well! Does this feline treachery know no bounds‽ You get ready to perform a quick PCR to check, but find that when you weren't looking you've been overwhelmed by partial undead. Each of your limbs is pinned down or otherwise incapacitated, and a severed leg is crushing your windpipe, slowly suffocating you.
Ariadne, avoiding one or two swipes herself, bravely charges in and kicks the offending leg from you, before tripping over herself and disappearing in a mound of quivering flesh. You breathe a sigh of relief, but at that moment a disembodied head leaps in, bites into your neck and tears your throat out. You promptly bleed to death.
GAME OVER
Deaths: 13
(Continuing from most recent saved game: >>395)
>>397
You shan't be taken by surprise! You stand up, emptying your mind of distractions in preparation for the oncoming battle. You shall become as intangible to your enemies as a wraith, and as flexible as bamboo. The limbs dumbly throw themselves at you, with no real tactics, and you are able to easily hold them at bay with quick jabs of your knife or kicks of your leg.
They seem to learn, however. They begin to intentionally circumvent you, some targeting Ariadne, others attempting to catch you from behind. Ariadne tries to hold her own, but is hopelessly unskilled in physical combat. You defend her as best you can. For every body part you kick away or split asunder, however, two more come to take its place. This would be a challenge even if you were at your best, but, being as you are, you cannot help but lose heart; there are simply too many asses to kick.
>>398
These defeatist thoughts are will be the death of you. You must focus your movement! With your one free hand, you flip up the back of Ariadne's skirt and grab hold of her shift, eliciting a cute muffled outcry. Ah yes, that's better. Now you can think clearly again.
>>399
Though you are now in a state akin to a martial trance, you are still making little progress in actually defeating your many enemies. Perhaps some supernatural aid is in order, you decide. You try to place two skill points into pontification, but find that the only available skills are aerokinesis, geokinesis, biokinesis, hypnosis, technomancy and ailuromancy.
You are adrift in a roiling sea of groping, murderous flesh. Ariadne seems on the verge of despair. "Jack," she pleads, voice shaking, "T-there's too many of them! We have to run!" At that moment, however, you hear an unfamiliar, somewhat accented man's voice from behind you, say "You two! On the count of three, jump! One... two...three!"
You do as you are told, and see, in that second you are airborne, some strange fractured bolt of electricity burst from the ground where your feet just were. The shock propagates through the ground, through all the reanimated body parts, into the trees and away. With nothing more than a loud bang and a smell of ozone, you are left surrounded by a large pile of twitching bits of grunt.
Take me to Aruanda.
Don't call my name, Alejandro.
>>405
The adrenaline is finally wearing off, and the turbid memories of last night are seeping back in from somewhere in the back of your skull. You heave a sigh and let your shoulders drop, safe at last. But for how long? After all, you now have good reason to suspect genuine safety and comfort will be concepts alien to you for the rest of your life. Your only hope lies in the afterlife.
"Please... take me to Aruanda." you implore, well aware of what you are implicitly asking of them. Unfortunately, uncultured swine that they are, they instead just stare at you blankly. "Who's that?" asks Alexei. "Did you mean Ariadne? But she's right here!" adds Aaron. You roll your eyes in exasperation.
>>406
"I think Jack and I sh--" begins Ariadne, a saccharine smile on her face, before you interrupt to tell her not to use your name. Someone so helpless and potentially toxiplosmosis-ridden doesn't have that right. She wavers in uncertainty, then continues "I, um, think we should all go to the white building on the opposite side of the river. It'll be fun!" She tips her head to one side, closes her eyes and smiles innocently.
You acquiesce, for lack of objections or alternative proposals. What does it matter anyway? Ariadne clings to Aaron, you awkwardly hug Alexei, and the four of you blast off to cruising altitude, a few metres over the top of the canopy. From here, you can see that the cut in the rainforest that you had been in was in fact heading towards your former camp, where the ceremonial altar and pyre still stand. There also appears to be a brontosaurus poking its head out from the clearing.
You are headed in the opposite direction entirely, however; directly westwards, across the thick, muddy brown river and towards a small, cuboid white building. There are various odd structures nearby, including a large radar dish and some sort of metal framework construction of indeterminate function. Beyond this, a cragged, heavily forested ridge rises into the endless blue expanse of sky above.
You have only just launched. There might still be time to suggest a change of course, should you happen to have any misapprehensions about your current destination.
Quietly sing the chorus of Be A Big Fat Butt.
Arrange the inanimate objects in the scenery into a chorus and refuse to do anything until you can coax them to sing the entirety of Title.
>>408
You try to put aside the sight of the ground flying by beneath you and the sound of the wind in your ears, and concentrate on what is to be done now. And yet - damn it all! - you simply cannot get that song out of your head. Indeed, the thought of punching the very idea of luck in an ambiguously vulgar manner appeals to you personally quite well, considering how fate has treated you recently.
You sing those three lines to yourself, thinking all along how much of a better singer you are than those two amateurs. Alexei hears you and smirks to himself.
>>409
The trees, the hills, the water, the sky, and the buildings - even inanimate objects like these would make better singers than that disastrous duet. Your spite and stubbornness coalesce into a cast iron mass of will. You shall do nothing until your inorganic choir sings for you the entirety of Title, one of the most challenging pieces any chorus could face.
You land by the white building uneventfully. Your companions come and go, but you pay them no mind. Hours pass. The sun sets, and you are left simply standing there in the dark, staring up at the ridge. You try to contrive the sound of the wind in the leaves into the opening line "A long, long time ago I can still remember..." but it simply isn't there.
Days pass. The sun rises, then sets, rises, sets, and so on. Sunshine, rain, hail all fall upon you unnoticed. Still, the hills will not sing for you.
Weeks pass. Animals come and go from the forest. Plants emerge from the ground and reclaim the manmade structures nearby. Still, the hills will not sing for you.
Years pass. Seedlings grow into saplings, become trees, flower, bear fruit, fall to the ground and rot away before your eyes. The wind and rain slowly wear down everything that doesn't grow back. Still, the hills will not sing for you.
Millennia pass. Occasionally the valley is swept clean by glaciers as ice ages come and go. The forests expand and retreat with the climate, a breaking wave of greenery. Newly evolved creatures you do not recognise become the norm, constantly being replaced by creatures less familiar still. The river changes path, and the ridge changes shape. Still, the hills will not sing for you.
Time passes. The sun turns red and expands into a bloated mass filling half the sky. Nothing is left but empty rocks and empty sky and you. The sun, once so bright and warm, quietly dies and shrivels up. The stars in the sky continue to burst into and out of life, until, eventually, none are left. The trees, the hills, everything has long turned to ash and dust and blown away in the wind - and then the wind, the water, the sky have silently ceased to be. You are alone, perfectly alone, in the eternal darkness. The universe has ended without you.
You feel something shake your shoulder. It has been so long since you felt anything that the sensation is a shock to you, and you aren't quite sure how to respond. The shaking comes again, and a voice - one you could swear you've heard before, though the memory has died just like everything else - calls out a word, over and over again. Eventually you realise it is your name.
You wake up. The sunlight is blinding. Ariadne is standing before you, saying "Wake up, sleepyhead! We're here. Looks like you must've fallen asleep on the way." With great effort, you get to your feet and look around.
You are standing in a grassy clearing. To the west is an abnormally immaculate white building. There are no windows, but there is a closed door. To the north is a crater, about three metres in diameter. It appears recent. You can find no other signs of battle, but there are one or two burnt scraps of paper stuck in the nearby foliage. Further to the north is a large radar dish, slowly being choked by vines. To the southwest, hidden in the trees, is that metal structure you saw earlier. It is probably one or two hundred metres away.
Aaron and Alexei appear to be preparing to leave again. Ariadne is wandering over towards the door of the building, about to knock.
Kiss Aaron and Alexei goodbye. Then open the door because love is an open door!
Be Aaron: Become a plastic bag, and float in the wind.
>>411
You have the odd feeling that you shan't be seeing these two gentlemen again for a while. Or perhaps it's that your recent vision has reinstilled your awareness of human mortality and the fleeting nature of life. Or maybe you just like them more than you want to admit to yourself. Whatever the reason, you go over and kiss each lightly on the cheek. They seem to genuinely appreciate it. You then rush off to aid Ariadne in her exploits.
Love is an opportunity, a way towards a better life, if you only have the will to abandon everything else and throw yourself into it. You have, in the past, had great difficulty expressing your affection, and squaring your feelings with your duty as a high priestess and conduit of unspeakable dark gods. Now, however, you have little left to lose, and everything to gain. A little personal bonding with Ariadne will do you both the world of good, you're sure.
Just as Ariadne's fist is about to rap against the door, it swings ajar and a figure emerges from the ambiguous teal coloured corridor within. It is you. Or, rather, somebody who looks just like you, but is not you. She steps out confidently, wearing a pure white labcoat. Ariadne's eyes light up and she immediately rushes forward and hugs the other you about the midriff, exclaiming "Conundrum-chan! Look! I brought all my friends. What now?"
"Ah, if it isn't the Pontiff!" not-you replies. "Now listen to me, Cass-- I mean, Ariadne. I need you to underst--"
"Murderer!" Alexei shouts viciously, spitting on the ground at his feet. "I call you a child of the night and will slay you where you stand!" Not-you turns to face him and says, with a mischievous smirk, "Well met, Alexei. I've been looking forward to this. Are you ready to see Jacqueline again?"
>>412
You are now playing as Aaron Aaronovitch Aaronov.
Being a staunch pacifist, and wanting nothing more than the safety of your adoptive daughters and your singing partner, you will have no part in this futile battle. You almost suggest sitting down and talking it through, but fear that would only exacerbate the already tense situation. In fact, you find yourself in dire need of a calming jetpack ride to soothe your nerves. Alexei shouts something about giving him the device - ah, now that he mentions it, you're still holding it, aren't you? - but you are distracted by the soft, lulling sensation of floating on the breeze, light as a discarded plastic bag.
Alexei launches his own jetpack, heading towards you to take the device himself. He makes it about two metres off the ground before a fireball - some thirty centimetres in diameter, coming from the direction of the Jack in the labcoat - strikes him from behind, igniting the fuel tanks and enveloping him in a blast of flame. You hold the perfect vantage point to watch his sudden demise. Like a flashbulb, the entire scene is burned into your memory.
On the ground, the Jack in the labcoat is staring, eyes narrowed, mouth half open in a look of concentration and sick enjoyment. The other Jack is facing away, looking at her doppelgänger. Ariadne is running towards Alexei, arm extended, mouth agape, ready to - to do what, exactly? But the image that stays with you is the look on Alexei's face: that of anger. His teeth are gritted, his face contorted and wrinkled, and his eyes are piercing straight into you. Behind him, an incandescent wreath of flame is already growing.
The next moment he is gone, enveloped in the chaotic bloom of an explosion. There is a flash of light, a waft of hot air - like being next to a furnace, even from your distance - and a deafening roar, and then it is over. Over the course of the next few seconds a few small pieces of flaming wreckage arc their way back to earth, and the air slowly clears of all the noise and smoke and heat.
All three of you surviving look at the Jack in the labcoat in shock. She sighs, spreads her arms in mock deference and says, simply, "Well, I suppose I owe you an explanation."
genuflect
Make an inquiry as to what the next step in her master plan might be.
Spinebuster Title
Be Jack. Summon a cat.
Call the cat Jimmy Sphincter.
Be Jimmy.
Shit on the carpet.
>>414
Suddenly aware of how temptingly flammable the apparatus on your back is, you decide it may be prudent to keep on the good side of the pyromaniac. You cut short your plastic bag imitation, return to land and bow before your new mistress. Your two daughters appear still to be stunned into inaction. Labcoat Jack, meanwhile, is looking down at you with a cruel smile on her face. You bow deeper, unable to meet her gaze.
>>415
You begin grovelling for your life, praying that she spare your miserable existence so you may serve her ends - whatever that may entail. Ariadne manages to stammer out "You... you killed him..." Labcoat Jack spins around on one foot, garments whirling outwards, and turns to face her. She laughs, a high pitched tinkling sort of laugh, and says "I don't know what you're complaining about; it was your idea in the first place!" Ariadne looks on the verge of tears. You don't dare get up.
"Sorry, I couldn't resist. It's true though! And trust me, none of you have any idea who that man was, or what he did. You and I" - she looks at Ariadne - "Were nobly bringing him and his accomplices to justice. There's only one more still on the loose - I haven't even seen her, although I know she's here somewhere. She's a girl about my age, slightly undead, and probably with badly injured legs. She's a lot more dangerous than she looks. Ariadne, this was your idea in the first place; Jack, you're literally me; and that simpleton over there has already pledged his life to my service, so I assume we're all in agreement on tracking her down and killing her."
>>416
You grab the We seem to have lost contact with the Control Tower [Grinding Noises][Part II] (418) squarely by the parentheses, jump in the air and bring it down as hard as you can, attempting to bust its spine or closest equivalent. The title collides with the first lines of >>1, which split asunder, spilling letters and punctuation everywhere. The destruction cascades down the entire thread, sentences breaking down into disjointed words, then to only characters, then grinding away with a deafening collective groan and crash into mere pixelated dust. Your entire reality has fallen apart to nothing. You have destroyed the very fabric of your own existence. You are left to wander the infinite empty white expanse that lies between the lines until you quietly cease to be.
GAME OVER
Deaths: 14
(Continuing from most recent saved game: >>419)
>>417
You are now playing as Jack Aaronova.
You spend 100 mana, leaving 110 remaining, on summoning a feline companion from the interdimensional portal between your legs. The others appear somewhat taken aback at this turn of events. Labcoat Jack in particular mutters something under her breath, averts her eyes from your crotch area and hides behind Ariadne. A second or two later, however, a beautiful Bengal cat, with sleek, spotted fur, pads out from under your skirt and says hello to its new world.
>>418
What a pretentious looking cat! You'd better call it something stupid and humiliating to balance it out.
You are now playing as Jimmy Sphincter.
You aren't sure where you are or how you came to be called "Jimmy", especially given that you're a girl. You cannot locate any carpets in your vicinity, and, having only just come into existence, your bowels are empty anyway. Without warning, you are beset upon by a young girl in a lilac dress, who grabs you, pets you and rubs her face in your fur, all the while expounding how you're "just precious" and such. You quite like all the fuss and attention, even if you'd never stoop so low as to admit it.
Then, you see him. That man, across the clearing from you, cowering in subservience before a girl dressed in white - you instantly hate him. In fact, hate doesn't even begin to cover it. Your antipathy towards him transcends the idea of mere emotional or logical response to stimuli. He is your very antithesis. His presence alone is proof that no omnibenevolent, omniscient and omnipotent god exists. You must destroy him, right now.
Complain that there are penises everywhere.
Be Jack. Pretend to go along with our clone's plan, while secretly plotting her demise.
>>420
Not only is that man the most monumental membrum virile you've ever seen, but all these other humans are - rather than tearing out his throat with their teeth - simply dangling around in a flaccid, phallic manner. You voice your displeasure with your companions whilst redoubling your efforts to escape the girl in lilac's smothering embrace and annihilate your nemesis.
>>421
You are now playing as Jack Aaronova.
Through your Feline communication (passive skill), you have just overheard Jimmy meowing something about male genitalia, which has rather derailed your train of thought. With effort, you return to the topic at hand - your clone's plan. You approach your - actually, is she your clone? Or an identical twin? Or is she some sort of shapeshifter that has assumed your form or something ridiculous like that? Well, whoever she is, she's clearly extremely dangerous and you should try your best to appear inoffensive towards her. Keep your enemies close, and all that.
You take a deep breath and prepare your subservient façade, all the while fantasising about sinking your favourite ceremonial stone dagger into her traitorous flesh. Just as you open your mouth, however, a loud metallic banging sound, as of something large falling over, emanates from the entrance to the white building. Your clone(?) drops what she's doing and sprints inside, slamming the door behind her. The door bounces off the doorjamb and is left slightly ajar. You can see inside nothing but a tantalising patch of teal wallpaper and ceiling. In the confusion, Jimmy escapes and begins to scamper towards Aaron.
If you are to go through with the plan that has been laid out, you should probably make your way back across the river, which may be challenging considering you have only one jetpack between the three (or four, including Jimmy) of you. At the same time, it's a little past midday, so you've enough time before nightfall to afford a little exploration of the local area as well. Or, of course, you could investigate what event indoors has attracted the other Jack's attention with such urgency.
Pretend to plot our clone's demise, while secretly going along with her plan.
>>423
You wait a moment, then place an arm around Ariadne's shoulders and whisper conspiratorially in her ear. "I don't think we should trust her. She's a murderous, dangerous brute, so we have to kill her to show that we're not like her. Are you with me?" You casually ignore the various calls for help in the background as Jimmy's claws become acquainted with Aaron's shins.
Poor Ariadne is clearly still quite bewildered and overwhelmed by recent events, and appears also to have some misguided ideas about "pacifism" and "talking things through". With some effort, you convince Ariadne to help bring your clone's comeuppance upon her, and also that she should go first into the building to search for her, and that you're right behind her, and so on.
She cautiously pushes open the door to reveal a bare corridor leading ahead a few metres, with one door each to the left and right, ending at a spiral staircase leading straight down. There is a small blackened cuboid object on the floor. Turning around, you see that Aaron appears to be making use of his jetpack and is hovering a metre or so above the ground, out of reach of Jimmy.
You'd like to secretly go along with the plan, but precisely what you should do next is not readily obvious.
gaynus
yeah
say "titty sprinkles"
Be Ariadne. Take the cuboid object and throw it at Jimmy.
Go down down down down down
>>425
You aren't sure how to do that.
>>426
You agree ambiguously. To what, you're not quite sure.
>>427
"Tight osprey ankles." you say.
>>428
You are now playing as Ariadne Aaronova.
You pick up the little black object from the floor. It appears to have been damaged by high temperature, and recently - it's still warm. The longest sides are rougher than the other surfaces, as though they had some texture which has been melted into oblivion. You cannot even guess what it was supposed to be.
At any rate, you decide, you must mediate this altercation outside. Really, why can't Aaron and catkind simply get along? It's so frustrating! You hurl the mysterious object into the fray. It misses Jimmy and instead strikes Aaron in the right foot. He flinches and yells out something incoherent, at the same time dropping that odd white device he used earlier to dispose of those troublesome undead grunt bits. Jack dives in and catches it, points it at Aaron and demands that he relinquish his jetpack. He submits, returns to the ground and is again viciously attacked by Jimmy. Jack straps the jetpack on, launches away and traces a long trajectory off back across the river, without so much as a backwards glance.
>>429
She left you behind! You feel quite betrayed. Your mood goes down, down, down, down, down. Dragging your feet despondently, you head inside and begin to descend the spiral staircase into whatever dark, chthonic realm lies below. Moments later, Jimmy joins you, carrying that small black object in his mouth. The two of you make your way downwards in silence, one step at a time. The staircase continues for a very long time - it is at least five minutes before you reach the bottom.
Upon rounding the last corner you suddenly find yourself in a large open cavern, roughly fifty metres by fifty metres by three metres. It appears to have been formed from two parallel extinct lava tubes, with the intervening space bored out, and the floor and ceiling levelled off to a uniform height. Fluorescent strip lighting suspended from above illuminates row upon row of odd rectangular pods, each the size of a small bed, and each with a rounded cover of frosted glass.
"Would you believe, when I got here they were all empty?" asks a familiar voice. You whip around to find labcoat Jack standing beside you, having just emerged from a door to the left. "They're bodies for generating clones, in case it wasn't obvious. This is the little project I've been working on. Oh, and just in case you had an silly ideas about cloning that sorry bastard I blew up earlier, I already deleted his entry from the database, along with any others besides myself and the default "grunt" model. Anyway, is there anything I can help you with, oh partner in crime? Shouldn't you be out looking for Con-- for that girl?"
You are on a small metal walkway above the southern edge of the room. Behind you is the staircase leading back to the surface. To your left, two metal doors are set into the wall. One, from which Jack just emerged, is open, revealing a room containing a desk, computer, chair, and various shelves and boxes of miscellaneous spelunking equipment. The other door is closed and locked with a large padlock. There are four large, unlit tunnels leading out of the cavern; two to the north, sloping uphill, and two to the south, sloping downhill.
pause game
open settings menu
change interface language to ancient Macedonian
attempt to (ab)use the cloning apparatus to create a race of orcs for unscrupulous purposes
Explain that we came to ask labcoat Jack for a jetpack.
Explain that we came to pack asscoat lack for a pet Jack.
skube
Kiss cube lovingly.
Tell Jack that you want to give her love as large as Brontosaurus.
>>431
You aren't aware of any games you're playing, or how you would go about pausing such a thing, but you suppose you could always try ἄƒÐƒÎƒÇƒÉƒÍς ἀƒÏƒÈόƒË ἀƒÈƒÏƒÍƒÒƒËƒÍί ƒÂƒ¿ƒËῶƒË, ƒÈἄ ἨƒÊƒ¿ƒÆίƒ¿ ἰƒÄέƒÉƒ¿ ƒÉƒÃίƒÀƒÅƒÆƒÏƒÍƒË. ƒ¦ƒ¿ῦƒÉƒÍς ƒÂƒ¿ίƒÑƒ¿ς ƒÁῶƒÕ; ƒÈἄ ƒÎƒ¿ƒÏƒ¿ός ƒÈάƒÏƒ¿ƒÀƒÍς ἀƒÏƒÈόƒË ἐƒÎƒÇƒÂƒÃƒÇƒÎƒËίς. ƒ¤ƒÃƒÇƒÏƒÅƒËίς ἀƒÈƒÏέƒ¿ ƒÁƒÒƒÉƒÉάς ἄƒÏƒÁƒÃƒÉƒÉƒ¿ ἰƒË ƒÂέᾳ - ƒÂƒÏῆƒÃς‽ ƒ¢ƒ¿ƒËῶƒË! ƒ¤ƒÃƒÇƒÏƒÅƒËίς ƒÂƒ¿ƒËῶƒË! ἌƒÍƒÏƒÑής ƒÐίƒÁƒÒƒËƒÍς ἀƒÈόƒËƒÑƒÇƒÍƒË ƒÁάƒÏƒÈƒ¿ ƒÁƒÍƒÑάƒË ƒÂώƒÏƒ¿ƒÌ "ἰƒÄέƒÉƒ¿," ƒÎƒ¿ƒÏƒ¿ός ƒÊƒ¿ƒÑƒÑύƒÅς.
ƒ ίῤῥƒÍƒÌ ƒÁόƒÉƒ¿
ƒ¢άƒËƒÍς: 15
(ƒ©ƒÃίƒÀƒÅƒÆƒÏƒÍƒË ƒÈἄ ῥƒÍῦƒÑƒÍ ἄƒÂƒÂƒÃƒÃ ƒÉƒ¿ίƒÀƒ¿ ƒÈƒÍῖƒÍς: >>430)
>>432
Suppressing an evil laugh, you slip into the side office and begin meddling with the computer, attempting to twist the facilities to your own nefarious ends. Unfortunately, you find that there is an absurd number of variables, most of them quite ambiguously labelled, and the interface usability leaves something to be desired. Where... where is the orc setting? There must be one, surely?
Jack's raven-like face appears over your shoulder. "And what might you be up to?" she inquires with mock innocence.
>>433
She's onto you! Quick, evasive manoeuvres! "A-actually, I was going to ask you for a jetpack, you know, for, um, flying with, you know." You aren't the best of liars. "...And you thought you might find one in the cloning console?" she continues, one eyebrow raised.
>>434
"Um, um, I was going to... there's a lack of, um, a-asscoats, and I... you... my pet?" What are you talking about any more? Jack leans back, cocks her head and stares at you, clearly trying to work out what you just said. A long, painful silence passes. You are pinned down by her scrutinising gaze, afraid even to breathe.
>>435
You break out in a cold sweat. This is your last chance. You just have to say something - anything - to redeem yourself, and persuade Jack that you weren't really trying to commandeer the cloning apparatus.
"Skube," you say.
>>436
"...Ariadne, are you feeling alright?" she says at last. Having decided that vocal communication is simply not for you, you instead decide to try your luck with interpretive dance. You hop over to one of the smaller crates, pluck it from the shelf and smooch it for all you're worth.
>>437
Upon reflection, you decide to give speech one last chance, as there's something very important you have to say. "Jack, I... I love you! Even more than that box I just kissed! In fact, if my love were expressed as a physical object, it'd be at least as big as Rupert!"
Jack steps back in shock, and puts her hands to her mouth. "Ariadne, I... I love you too! I've always loved you! Oh, I'm so glad!" Tears of joy streaming down her cheeks, she rushes forwards, takes you in her arms and kisses you on the lips dramatically. You are caught up in the moment, lost to the sensation of her lips against yours, of her arms around your back, and of her whole body pressed against you. After a few precious moments, the two of you at last part, still gazing lovingly into one another's eyes.
There is a noise outside. It is faint, heavily distorted by the echoing of the tunnels, but sounds like a human voice, or several voices. It seems to be coming from one of the northward tunnels, but you can't tell for certain. It is getting closer. You whisper to Jack, who is still clinging to you, "What is that?"
"I don't know." she whispers back.
Quick! Assume battle positions ASAP! Stay frosty! Stay frosty!
Ask Jack to clone babies from a mix of our DNA.
Do lewd yuri stuff with Jack
Destroy the cloning apparatus. If I can't have my nefarious orcish GMOs, no one shall!
Protest that every being created by the apparatus should carry a GMO sticker with them.
What did you expect, a gold star for being a Jew?
>>439
Oh no! A fight is imminent! You wriggle free from Jack's embrace and take up position crouching by the door, peeking through a crack into the main chamber. It remains empty, but the echo of voices grows ever louder. At last, you begin to be able to make out words: "...together... try them on to see." The curious message is chanted with immense gravity. On "see", the voices suddenly stop. At the same time, you see a slight movement out of the corner of your eye coming from the northwest tunnel. You're sure it was too small and fast to be human.
>>440
You take Jack's hand in your own, and say to her "Jack, I... I think we should clone b--" "Of course!" she interjects explosively "We should clone some throwaway grunts and spring them on the intruders as an ambush! Good thinking, Ariadne." Happy as you are to be praised thus, that wasn't quite what you meant. You begin some weak objection, but Jack is already busily tapping away at the console.
>>441
That kiss earlier awakened an odd desire within you. You feel like you want to touch and be touched by Jack more. You reach out to her, but stop short of contact. The ten centimetre space between your hand and her shoulder seems to expand into an insurmountable gulf, and you feel all the weight of thousands of years of heteronormativity and sexual taboos wrench your hand back down to your side.
It... it really is abnormal, for a girl to like another girl, isn't it? And besides, do you really love her, or did you just say that to distract her from you meddling with the console? You feel strangely angry at yourself for being unable to properly understand your own feelings. But, you remind yourself, time heals all things; perhaps, when you have grown as a person a little more, you'll be able to properly love Jack, in mind and in body.
>>442
Jack, quite oblivious to what has just transpired behind her back, smacks the return key triumphantly and whispers "There! That should give them a surprise." You wait for her to get up and go to the door, then, without warning, externalise your internal conflict, taking it out on the poor, defenceless little computer. You pull the cables from the wall as hard as you can, and punch the side of the monitor (to little effect). The screen goes blank, but you haven't yet done any permanent damage when Jack grabs your arms and pulls you away.
"Ariadne!" she hisses into your ear, "What are you doing? You'll give away our position!" You manage to stammer out "I-it's your fault! B-baka!" She is quiet a moment, apparently reconsidering her actions, before asking cautiously, "What's my fault?"
>>443
"Y-you should've made it obvious that they were clones! With stickers!" Jack laughs and releases you, apparently passing it off as a joke. You decide it best to quit while you're ahead.
>>444
You ask yourself whether or not you were expecting a gold star, either metaphorically or literally. You're find that you were not.
Looking again through the crack in the door, you see that five of the pods near the north wall have peeled open, each disgorging a single man wearing grey combat armour. They mill about in a loose group, looking around expectantly. Then, a row of grunts files in from the opening to the northwest tunnel. These grunts are different; rather than combat armour, they wear off-white jumpsuits, many with mudstains. Each wields a makeshift wooden quarterstaff, with the exception of the one in the lead, who is wearing a headdress composed of various red feathers and flowers. He is holding what looks like a pile of leaves in one hand.
He approaches the newborn grunts and addresses them in an authoritative manner: "I am the voice of the High Priest of the Schismatics. You will join us or be slain where you stand." They look at one another uncertainly, bow their heads and join the back of the procession. With a single gesture from the lead grunt, the entire group then spreads out and begins investigating the room.
Jimmy, who, until now, was contentedly sitting under the desk, slips through the crack in the door and into the room. By the time you notice she is already out of hand's reach. Unless you do something, she might be in danger - or might endanger you and Jack by revealing your position.
Be Jimmy.
Seduce the High Priest with cute mewing.
Rustle somebody's jimmies.
>>447
You require Cat possession (passive skill) to play as Jimmy.
You feel a lump form in your stomach as you realise that not only your life, but Jack's too depends on what you do right now. It is times like these - when an individual's moral fibre is strained - that one discovers what one is truly capable of. Thinking quickly, you decide you must leave your shelter and confront those outside directly, so as to maintain the initiative. You cannot possibly hope to fight them; rather, you shall have to employ your womanly wiles and thereby placate them.
Without a word, you harden your resolve, push the door open and crawl into the room on all fours. You follow Jimmy (who, coincidentally, also seems to be heading for the grunt with the headdress) and successfully manage to bypass the roving minions, reaching the leader unnoticed. On closer inspection, you find he is holding a square of plaited grass covered in leaves. Its purpose isn't obvious.
You approach him from behind and nuzzle his leg, making a cute "nyaa" noise. He yelps in surprise, jumps away and spins around, back against of the clone pods. You kneel, lift one hand curled in the shape of a paw, and meow encouragingly. He furrows his brow and begins to say something, when, suddenly, his face goes blank. He stares vacantly at a spot vaguely behind you, then looks back and says "...Lady Ariadne. We have been looking for you. Please follow me." He bows to you reverently. This wasn't quite the response you were aiming for, but it'll do.
>>448
You find Jimmy lurking just behind you. Whose is she, anyway? I mean, she must be somebody's Jimmy. Does she belong to the other Jack, considering that's whose nether regions she inexplicably emerged from? Is she a stray? Who knows. You go ahead and rustle her coat a little with some vigorous stroking. She arcs her back in pleasure.
The leader and his entourage reconvene and begin to march back towards the northwest tunnel from which they came. You risk a glance backwards, to see the door in the south wall still slightly ajar. You can just make out a sliver of Jack's face on the other side. Your plan has succeeded; Jack is safe - but at what cost? You stare into the impenetrable darkness into which the procession is heading, thick and incorporeal as smoke. Should you really follow them? Or should you just make a run for it while you still can? Should you try to bring Jack with you, or leave her behind? And what of Jimmy? You had best decide quickly.
Follow them regally, carrying Jimmy.
be 200% nigga
Cartwheel down the hall!
kill all women
Summon the Gay Niggers from Outer Space to assist.
Become a Gay Nigger and go to space
Don't wear a space helmet. Space helmets are for lame ass honkeys.
Try to play the old "golf ball in the airhose" trick.
>>450
With only a little cajoling, you gather Jimmy into your arms and follow the line of grunts into the darkness. You walk in as stately a manner as you can muster for several minutes, accompanied only by the steady crunch of feet on volcanic glass. The tunnel winds gently downwards and to the right. The air slowly grows warmer, and you catch wafts of a rather unpleasant smell.
>>451
It's rather hard to properly intimidate people when you're just a little girl. Yes, that's it, you think to yourself, you just need to be 200% bigger! Any larger than that and you might bump your head in these underground passages. You look around for a cake marked "EAT ME" - which is the obvious way for any girl in your position to become bigger - without success.
>>452
All this solemn marching is rather offputting, you find. A nice display of acrobatics ought to lighten your mood, and, best of all, in the darkness, the rest of them will never even know! You extend all your limbs and begin to revolve along your merry way. Whoops! You forgot you were carrying Jimmy for a moment there. She is launched from your grip, screeching in alarm before colliding with something with a thump - probably the grunt ahead of you. You immediately hear her claws skittering against the floor, so she doesn't seem to have suffered any serious injury.
>>453
You stop mid-cartwheel, consumed by the immediate and overwhelming desire to commit complete femicide. And where better to start than the nearest woman; namely, yourself? You stick out your tongue and bite down as hard as you can, severing most of it. Ignoring the pain and taste of blood, you tip your head back and take a deep breath, lodging your severed tongue squarely in the top of your trachea. You silently collapse to the ground, unable even to gasp, before death finally claims you.
GAME OVER
Deaths: 16
(Continuing from most recent saved game: >>458)
>>454
Useful allies as they would no doubt be, you have no clue how you'd go about summoning them. Besides, you suspect they'd respond better to one of their terrestrial kin, whereas you are precisely what they have come to destroy.
>>455,456
Ah, the transcendental beauty of the extraterrestrial; the multitudinous clusters of stars, the music of the spheres, the infinite, all consuming empty void lying between every tiny fleck of matter... yes, you decide, the subterranean life is not for you after all. You simply must go see space for yourself, without even the merest layer of glass between you and it.
But first you must become a grave robber. Only then can you join the other grave robbers from outer space as one of them. Also, you'd probably have to find some way of escaping the Earth's gravity well, but that's a secondary concern.
>>457
You lack both the golf ball and airhose components of that particular parlour trick. Unless you were to improvise using your own windpipe and a suitable severed body part, but that seems rather macabre and horrible, really.
There is light at the end of the tunnel! An ominous reddish light, along with the sound of bubbling and the smell of sulphur. You round the last corner, finding yourself in an inflationary cave. It is shaped like a bubble, tilted to one side, with the lower portion flooded with magma. There is a raised section of floor in the centre of the cave, where the lead grunt is standing. Above him is a small metal lift, little larger than a dumbwaiter, currently ascending into a square hole in the ceiling. The odd square foliage thing he was carrying is on top, along with something else you cannot identify due to it being lit only from below.
One of the generic grunts comes forward and lies down on the raised section of cavern floor. You cautiously approach, unsure quite what's going on. The lead grunt addresses you: "The honour of conducting tonight's Christmas has been bestowed upon you. Please, do not hesitate." Christmas? What is he talking about? You look around at the nearby grunts, then down at the man at your feet. What are you supposed to do?
spinebuster the first living thing we see
Ask the grunt for a ceremonial stone knife.
Lick everybody's lips
Be the little girl
>>459
You look at the grunt on the floor. He stares at the ceiling, but his eyes flick uncertainly to your face once or twice as well. Suddenly, you know exactly what you must do. You grab him by the armpits and heave him unsteadily to his feet. He looks around uncertainly, and the grunt with the headdress is just beginning to suggest that forgiveness isn't really in the Christmas spirit, when you grab the grunt about the waist, try to launch him into the air (he's heavier than he looks!) and throw him, spine first, onto the hard cavern floor. He gasps, badly winded. You find yourself smiling with satisfaction.
>>460
You turn to the grunt with the red diadem and politely request a knife - perhaps of a ceremonial nature, perhaps even made of stone. He raises one eyebrow and says that sort of thing isn't usually necessary, but he'll see what he can do. Meanwhile, the little metal lift steadily descends back down from the hole in the ceiling, trailing cables from each corner. The plaited square of foliage is still there. He gets on, and the lift once again ascends into the darkness above.
>>461
He's gone! Now's your chance - you can make a run for it back to your beloved Jack, or attempt to usurp the high priest's control of this supposed church, or try to convince the grunts gathered here to go for a swim in the magma, or... oh, the possibilities are endless! You fail to suppress a mischievous little giggle.
But first, you have to prevent anything getting back to the high priest. You must seal everyone's lips. With your tongue, naturally. You skip from one grunt to the next, standing on your tiptoes, grabbing their cheeks in both hands and giving each of their mouths a good lick. They look terrified. One of them, when you get to him, covers his mouth with one hand, wails piteously and bolts into the tunnel from which you just came.
This seems to be a catalyst, as two more follow suit and one collapses to the floor, curled up and sucking his thumb. There are twelve grunts remaining, all of whom appear very distressed. You make encouraging, placating noises, to little effect.
>>462
What are you now? Are you a priestess? Or a pontiff? You can only continue playing things by ear for so long; sooner or later you're going to have to decide what you are to be. For now, however, you decide to keep things simple: you are simply a little girl. There is no need to complicate things any further than that.
While the cat's away the mice will play, but the lead grunt will probably be back before long, and with him your obligation to celebrate christmas.
Rip open the grunt on the floor, pull out his innards and hide in his carcass.
get on the floor and walk the dinosaur
>>464
Look at them, all afraid of nothing - well, you'll give them something to be afraid of! "Ufufufu!" you chuckle to yourself. After a brief scan of the area, you find a conveniently shaped flake of obsidian, and, brandishing it, return to the grunt on the floor. With a flourish, you plunge it into his abdomen. He gasps in pain, but before he can draw enough breath to scream, you lever it under his sternum and pull up as hard as you can. It slips off to one side, displaces two ribs and traces a jagged gash up most of his chest. Mercifully, he passes out.
You continue hacking away, gutting him like an animal. You find it altogether quite satisfying once you get into it. Once the ribs are out of the way, you begin tearing out his viscera and throwing it aside. The other grunts are, by this point, all reduced to gibbering wrecks. The grunt you are working on soon enough passes away, granting you one skill point and fifty mana.
Unfortunately, you find that his thoracic cavity is not nearly spacious enough to accommodate you. You are just considering skinning the corpse and wearing the skin over your own when you are interrupted by the lift in the centre of the cave descending. It's the grunt with the red headdress again.
>>465
Dammit, if only you had a little more time, you could've dressed up as the grunt and fooled him into thinking you'd turned into someone else! Perhaps you still can - these grunts aren't the brightest of creatures, after all - by imitating... imitating... that's it! You get on all fours in the most Rupert-ish posture you can muster and plod around, seeking some greenery to masticate. Just like the genuine article.
"Lady Ariadne," begins the grunt, without batting an eyelid, "I am very sorry. Firstly, I was unable to procure for you a ceremonial stone knife. Secondly, an urgent church matter has arisen. I must lead the congregation to the site right away. As for you... the High Priest wishes to speak with you." He gestures to the lift.
You pause where you are, uncertain as to what to do. Taking your inaction for confusion, the grunt clarifies: "I am not the High Priest. I am only His voice; His conduit to the congregation. Now, please, it would not do to keep Him waiting."
The grunts all exit back into the lava tube, chanting something low and incomprehensible, leaving you and Jimmy behind. You look up at the dark shaft in the ceiling, into which the lift will ascend. The high priest, indeed! What could he possibly want with you? Perhaps for you to join his congregation? And, if you do go see him, is there perchance anything you want to ask of him?
Go see the High Priest and ask him for some drugs so we can get high too.
Wait who are we again?
>>467
With only a little trepidation, you board the lift, accompanied by Jimmy. It ascends silently on well oiled pulleys, up through the hole in the ceiling and several metres beyond. The lift comes to a stop in complete darkness. It feels cool, and a faint breeze is coming from the North. Before you can fully orient yourself a deep, rough voice speaks - not out loud, but directly inside your head.
"It is a pleasure to meet you again, Ariadne." it says. You are quite certain you've never heard this voice before. "I am the High Priest of the Schismatics. I must thank you for conducting tonight's christmas. I trust everything went to plan, and you didn't do anything silly like fail to dedicate the sacrifice to our god, or anything like that." The voice chuckles to itself.
"These are exciting times for our church. We have recently located one of the two artifacts sacred to our faith: an engraved ceremonial altar, used for christmases past. The congregation has just been sent out to reacquire it. Meanwhile, I would like for you to locate and retrieve the other artifact: a certain ceremonial stone dagger. It was last seen in the possession of the fallen high priestess - I believe you know her?" the voice suggests. "Naturally, you will be amply rewarded for your work."
You take the opportunity to request some sort of narcotics by way of reimbursement. "A budding lotophage, are you? Of course, I can provide you the sweet oblivion you seek." replies the high priest.
>>468
You are currently playing as Ariadne Aaronova - also known as the Pontiff - an enigmatic young amnesiac with a love of all things cute. You are the foster daughter of Aaron Aaronovitch Aaronov (a well intentioned but cowardly and incompetent gentleman), foster sister of Jack Aaronova (a violent cutthroat high priestess with an unexpected gentle side) and lover of Jack Conundrum-chan (a mysterious girl with an equally mysterious agenda). You are also well acquainted with the cats Theodore (a male tortoiseshell) and Jimmy Sphincter (a female Bengal cat).
You currently have in your inventory an ornate frilly lilac dress (somewhat bloodstained) and a small shard of obsidian. You have one unspent skillpoint and fifty mana.
The high priest, apparently considering the matter closed, bids you farewell and you feel yourself silently descend back down again. You take a deep breath and are just about to begin thinking about your immediate future when you arrive back in the cave. You are more than a little surprised to find that the grunt you disembowelled earlier is upright and walking, entrails still trailing loosely from its abdomen. The corpse is at the tunnel mouth, shuffling forwards, when suddenly its head whips around to face you. You are caught in its glassy, vacant gaze as it turns and begins to lumber towards you.
It is only around three metres away, and is blocking the way out to the tunnel. Around you there is a large pool of magma, a few small stones and a small pile of viscera you removed earlier. The lift is quite static, with no obvious controls. Jimmy is currently cowering by your heels.
punch him in the dick boy
punch him in the dick boy
punch him in the diiiiick
punch him in the diiiiick
Stand at the edge of the magma and taunt the undead grunt to lure him closer. At the last moment run around and push him in!
Remember to put the gained skill point into the God stat to become a GOD.
After which do a silly dance. And kick the priest in the dick.
ladies first
>>470
Well, this simply won't do at all, you decide. The dead are supposed to be dead, after all. You shall have to put this overactive cadaver in its place once and for all. You crouch, wait for it to come within range, then lunge in, delivering a crippling uppercut to the crotch. You follow up with more blows, but the corpse doesn't even flinch. It grabs you by the throat and lifts you clean off the ground. You kick and struggle for all you are worth, to no avail. The world fades away to black.
GAME OVER
Deaths: 17
(Continuing from most recent saved game: >>469)
>>471
You retreat as close as you can get to the magma (not that close, actually; it's really rather hot, you know) and dramatically exclaim "Oh, woe is me! I'm just a poor defenceless maiden, trapped here with this vicious monster! There is no hope for me!" It continues to stumble towards you as before. You try to convince yourself that your sweating is just from the heat and your shaking legs are just part of the lure, but lack quite that level of sangfroid.
Once the grunt corpse is close enough, you duck to the left, trying to get behind it and push. It swipes at you in passing, however, grabbing you by the hair. You kick at its feet, successfully overbalancing it, and it falls face first into the magma. You barely manage to avoid being pulled with it, though you lose a little of your hair in the process. There is a loud hissing as the grunt's flesh sinks into the seething molten rock. Its limbs flail around, but you pin its back down with one foot and push it further in. Eventually, it stops moving.
>>472
Unfortunately, it would appear that God is not a valid skill. Your available skills are aerokinesis, geokinesis, biokinesis, hypnosis, technomancy and ailuromancy. Being a god sounds rather bothersome anyway, what with people trying to prove you don't exist and silly things like that. Speaking of silly, you decide to do a little jig on the spot to celebrate overcoming that fearsome opponent. Hooray!
More importantly, that smug little high priest didn't lift a finger to help you! Why, for all you know, it might even have been him who reanimated the corpse! Necessity is the mother of invention, and your need to kick him between the legs provides the seed of ingenuity for you to climb up the lift cables to go find him again.
The space above is as dark and mysterious as before. The high priest does not talk to you this time, but you can hear an odd noise you cannot quite place. It sounds like some sort of low growling or rumbling, but distorted by echoes. You try to explore the area around you, but fail to locate the priest - or anything else for that matter. The space is clearly quite large and seemingly empty.
Your searching is interrupted by a thumping noise. Looking down the lift shaft, you see that your undead friend is back - despite its head being encased in freshly formed basalt - and wants to come say hello. What now, you ask yourself: do you focus on tracking down that elusive priest, or prioritise your own personal safety by eliminating that wretched grunt first?
>>473
Well, naturally, you, as the lady in the situation, take priority. Without hesitation, you jump feet first down the shaft, straight onto the grunt's head. It breaks your fall nicely, collapsing to the cavern floor with a crunch. You hop off its prone body to find Jack Conundrum-chan at the mouth of the cave. She rushes over and embraces you, expounding how glad she is you're safe. She says that Jimmy came to fetch her and led her here - indeed, the feline in question is just behind her.
Even now, the corpse simply won't stay dead. It begins to rise back to its feet before your very eyes.
Put skill point into geokinesis, then use Conundrum-chan as a human shield.
Use the geokinesis to create a bunch of golems and shit and get the golems to rape the undead piece of shit with their fists until the shitty zombie thing is turned into soup.
Then sex up Conundrum-chan while the golems kill and rape everything else that could ruin the making of fuck.
Pee on the undead.
update java
>>475
You place one skillpoint into geokinesis. You have unlocked the following skill:
You hide behind Conundrum-chan. Jimmy hides behind you. Conundrum-chan hides behind Jimmy. The three of you end up in one tangled mass of limbs, all tripping over yourselves trying to retreat from the grunt corpse.
>>476
You begin piling up little stones you find lying around into four vaguely humanoid/faecal shapes. You spend twenty mana (leaving thirty remaining) metamorphosing them, causing the limbs to fuse in place. You are left with four lumpy humanoid figures, each with a little layered pile of ordure upon their heads. They are each only about ten centimetres tall, and - as rocks tend to be - not awfully lively. You certainly wouldn't trust them to turn the rapidly advancing corpse into broth.
Conundrum-chan grabs your hand and pulls you away towards the mouth of the tunnel. Some combination of the unexpected skinship and your recent emotional turmoil causes the thought to flit through your head that she is drawing you away in the interests of doing something lewd with you - oh my! I mean, perhaps you wouldn't say no, but...
Whatever her intentions, you let yourself be led away into relative safety of the mouth of the lava tube, hoping without much conviction that your little golems will be able to hold off the undead menace.
>>477
Gosh, that corpse is simply so irritating! Like a nettle or jellyfish sting! Perhaps, you muse, it might be treated in a similar way. Ignoring her protestations, you let go of Conundrum-chan's hand, turn on your heel, rush towards the irritative undead and, at the last moment, flip up your skirt and drop your pantsu. Strain as you might, however, your bladder won't comply. You just can't go with somebody watching.
"No, Ariadne! The crotch thing only works if they can see it!" exclaims Conundrum-chan, already rushing towards you, but too late. It swipes at the side of your head, knocking you brutally to the ground. Skull fractured and spine dislocated, you die the moment you hit the ground.
GAME OVER
Deaths: 18
(Continuing from most recent saved game: >>479)
>>478
As a bastion of Indonesian culture, you feel it is vital that you provide the island of Java with an update on recent events. They won't believe it! I mean, the thing with the golems and all? At any rate, you aren't going to find any ways of contacting them in this cave. You run away with Conundrum-chan into the darkness.
Despite sweaty palms, you don't let go of her hand until the two of you (three, including Jimmy) are back in the room with all the cloning apparatus. You cannot see or hear the corpse, but it may still be following you. You and Conundrum-chan rest against one of the pods, catching your breaths. You begin to consider your next plan of action.
You have just emerged from the northwest tunnel. There is another leading northwards in the northeast corner, and two leading southwards in the southwest and southeast corners. There is also the spiral staircase leading to the surface. If you go that way, however, you'll have no way of crossing the river (if that's even what you want). You seem to recall the office with the cloning console had some useful looking equipment, if, on the other hand, you're planning on any more subterranean adventures.
You aren't sure which way Java is.
>>479
If cloning apparatus is functional, create /at least 100/ clones of yourself.
Send one to pee on the undead while the others block up the tunnel you just passed through.
If cloning apparatus is not functional, take the north tunnel.
Find a pickaxe or similar tool, first.
>>481
You enter the office in the south wall of the room. Conundrum-chan follows you, grabs a small white box from the shelf and says, with slightly artificial nonchalance, that she has something to take care of quickly and she'll be right back. You hear a jangling as the padlock is removed from the locked door next to the office, then a faint creak as it opens and shuts again.
You search the shelves for a pickaxe, finding in the process many cardboard boxes full of rocks, various stationery (paper, sample bags and such), a coil of rope, a canister of fuel, an electric torch, a pile of large white candles, a box of matches and two boxes full of Kendal mint cakes, amongst other things. After much rummaging, you find a geologist's hammer, which you keep.
>>480
As Jack is away, you find yourself feeling a little mischievous. You find the cloning console still inoperative after your little outburst back at >>445, with the various cables disconnected from the rear of the machine. You plug them back in one at a time wherever they will go, push the power switch and are relieved to see the display spark back into life. After a minute's booting, you are confronted with the same convoluted interface as earlier.
Unfortunately, there are only two templates to choose from, labelled "factory" and "C0". From observing Conundrum-chan earlier, you know that "factory" corresponds to the default grunts. You aren't sure what "C0" means, but you have no reason to suppose it corresponds to yourself, and you have no idea how to add yourself to the database - if that's even possible.
Disappointed, you decide to go exploring a little. Conundrum-chan is still busy doing Conundrum-chan-ish things in the room next door. Without a word, you embark along the northeast tunnel. It tilts generally upwards, banking gently eastwards. After walking for about a hundred metres, the darkness is complete, and you cannot see a thing. You can feel a slight breeze coming from ahead.
Make more golems and keep them with you. Be prepared to chuck them at any signs of danger and hope that they'll cling on to whatever they hit and slow it down by dry humping it!
stop hitting yourself
stop hitting yourself
stop hitting yourself
stop hitting yourself
stop hitting yourself
stop hitting yourself
stop hitting yourself
Follow the breeze~
>>483
Groping around on the cavern floor, you amass three more little humanoid piles of rock, each somewhat larger than your previous works. With an expenditure of twenty mana (leaving ten remaining) you fuse them into their given forms - sadly, your skills in the dark arts aren't yet sufficient to grant them life. You tuck them into the pockets of your frilly dress, close at hand should they need to be used as improvised missiles. Whilst you're at it, you name them Alecto, Megaera and Tisiphone.
>>484
In order to stop hitting yourself, you would first have to start hitting yourself. You start by slapping yourself in the right cheek, as hard as you can. With a sound like a thunderclap, you are left with a stinging pain and a vague feeling of offence. Well, at least now you can stop hitting yourself.
But then, without warning, you strike yourself again, this time in the left cheek. The pain is still lancing through your head when you feel a sharp blow to the solar plexus. Why is this happening? You try as hard as you can to stop hitting yourself, but your body shows no mercy on you. It knows your every weakness, and is more than willing to exploit them.
Curled up in the foetal position, on the cold hard cavern floor, plunged in darkness and slowly being beaten to death by yourself, you are on the verge of despair when one last quantum of hope flickers into life in the back of your head. Your golems! Yes, you made them precisely for this sort of situation. You just have to throw them at yourself, and then hopefully you can force yourself to stop hitting yourself. What could possibly go wrong?
You launch your three Erinyes directly upwards in quick succession, hoping that they'll cling to your limbs and dry hump them into submission. Instead, they strike you in the head, one by one, the last knocking the final spark of life from your beaten body.
GAME OVER
Deaths: 19
(Continuing from most recent saved game: >>486)
>>485
Furies pocketed, you decide to follow the gentle breeze that is now flowing playfully through your hair. But what does "following" mean in this case? Are you going to follow it in the direction it's going back to where you came from, or follow it in the direction you're going back to where it came from? You decide the latter sounds like the more interesting path to take.
You continue to follow the lava tube. It grows narrow and branches, often braiding apart and together again, like streams in a river delta. The faint, cool touch of the wind against your cheek guides you ever onwards. Eventually you find yourself in a tunnel so narrow you have to crawl on your hands and knees, growing narrower still up ahead. The breeze is strong here, and you can almost smell the delicate tropical scents of the rainforest outside. Despite your slender frame, the passage seems dangerously constrictive. You feel some trepidation about advancing any further.
Keep going, using the geologists' hammer to open a path if necessary.
Check em
Compose a haiku of love for Jack
>>487
Well, you shan't stop here! With a deep breath, you press on into the claustrophobic little fissure ahead. Feeling about by hand, you discover it is somewhat wider than it is tall, but still only barely wider than your shoulder width. You reach in with your handy little hammer and chip away at the edges. With some encouragement the rock peels away in large flakes, allowing you a little more breathing space, but not awfully much. You proceed, pulling yourself along by your elbows, hacking away as necessary at the passage walls.
About two or three metres in, the passage suddenly and sharply turns upwards. You manage to contort your upper body past the bend in the tunnel, but then, to your dismay, find yourself stuck. You can neither advance further nor go back, and cannot get a good angle with the geologist's hammer to widen the constricting region around your hips. An uncomfortable lump forms in your throat as you realise that, unless you can somehow extricate yourself from this predicament, it could be the end of you.
>>488
While you're here, you decide you may as well check on the local electromagnetism. Firstly and most obviously, the fact you cannot see anything suggests a lack of radiation in the visible spectrum. Similarly, the only likely source of UV - that is, the Sun - is nowhere to be seen. The air is quite cool, suggesting only a little IR, most of it probably coming from you. You find yourself somewhat troubled by the fact that there could hypothetically be any amount of radio, microwave, X-ray or gamma radiation passing through your little body this very second and you'd have no way of knowing.
>>489
Oh, if only Jack were here to help you!
Two budding lilies
The dew drips from my petals
Can we ever bloom?
Concentrate on regaining forgotten powers to save us from this predicament.
offer water to the deceased through tear ducts
>>491
You screw your eyes closed and retreat within, delving beneath the murky waters of introspection in the hopes that you can retrieve some sort of ambiguous ability possessed by your former, pre-amnesia self that could help free you. But what, and how? How could another consciousness in your current position possibly do anything you can't already? You fail to gain anything more than a headache, but have the vague feeling that your memories are not lost forever. If only you had some sort of concrete memento or prompt of your former life...
>>492
The frustration and helplessness which you had, so far, been able to suppress, wells up within you and erupts as a deluge of tears. You cry into the darkness, alternately sobbing piteously and wailing with anguish. The tears flow down your cheeks in five rivulets that swell into vast rivers and circle the Underworld seven times. The multitudinous souls of the dead bathe in your tears and suffer as you have.
Or perhaps you're getting a little carried away. All this melodrama is actually a little embarrassing and unbecoming of an upstanding, independent young lady like yourself, you decide. You are just settling down and beginning to wonder what to do with the rest of the time between now and dying of thirst, when you hear a familiar voice in the back of your head.
"Who are you? And what are you doing in there?" It sounds like the high priest.
"I am a Christmas Miracle! And I was in this pantry looking for Christmas Tea for the tea party!"
It doesn't matter who we are, what matters is our plan.
A girl. A plan. A canal. Palriga.
It must be a trap! Pee on high priest.
Make a forceful penetration despite knowing that it's a trap.
>>494
Thinking fast, you realise it might be prudent to overstate your own religious zealotry in order to gain the favour of the high priest - but, at the same time, you are simply too embarrassed to admit that you managed to get yourself stuck here. You claim it's all in preparation for christmas, but are caught out. "Ariadne, that's you, isn't it? We already celebrated Christmas for today. You led the ceremony, remember?"
>>495
"Never mind that!" you counter, "More importantly, we must get on with the plan!" After a moment's contemplation, the high priest replies "You mean obtaining the stone dagger?"
>>496
"No, I mean constructing the Palriga Canal!"
Your ambition shocks the him into silence - momentarily, at least. Then, apparently discarding the issue, he says simply, "I'm afraid you're blocking the way I need to go. This passage wasn't meant for you anyway." You dodge the issue as far as you can, but eventually are forced to concede that you're stuck. The high priest casually offers to help you out.
>>497
No! He's going to do something weird to you while you're helpless! You try to expel some sort of deterrent chemical from your lower body, before remembering that you're not a skunk and that urinating is probably not going to help your situation much. You try anyway, but just the thought that he's watching you causes you to freeze up.
You feel something hairy brush against your legs, then hear a tearing sound. You find that pockets of your dress containing Alecto and Tisiphone have been torn open. Ah, those must've been what you were caught on! You hadn't even noticed. You wriggle loose, rearrange your possessions, and then renegotiate the narrow crook in the passage. You pass, this time, with only minor discomfort, and crawl onwards through the winding darkness until finally reaching an exit.
You stand up and inspect your surroundings, finding yourself back on the surface. You are on the eastern bank of the major river you flew over earlier. It is dusk. The sky to the west is still light, but rapidly darkening, and you can already make out a few stars above. To the east is nothing but open jungle. You can hear various unidentifiable sounds and faint vocalisations coming from the southeast.
A small, dark shape comes flying from the tunnel entrance and instantly vanishes into the undergrowth.
>>498
Fully aware of the implications of your actions, you forcefully swing your geologist's hammer at the bank of the river. It is made of clay - soft, but relatively impermeable. You swing, again and again, finally breaking through into the tunnel. The river water rushes into the gap, gurgling away into the underground. There! That counts as a canal by your standards. I mean, you should probably add some locks, but you can always sort that out later.
Yell at the rocks!
VC:rock