design penis
open character sheet
change allegiance to "Islamic State"
chant "allahu ackbar!"
Head toward the first sound we hear.
hack apart all the corpses of the people we just killed to make sure no one reanimates them later
What the fuck is going on here
>>573
There is certainly no shortage of bits of stone scattered about the room. You gather a few together and use your stone morphing (active skill) to convert them into five hira shuriken, setting you back by twenty mana. You have 265 mana remaining. You could probably sharpen them further with your stone sharpening (active skill), but, to be honest, they seem sharp enough to cause some damage as they are, so long as you throw them hard enough.
>>574
You increase your geokinesis level to eight, unlocking the following skills:
>>575
You spend a few moments thinking about penises. Perhaps, you reflect, they'd be less disagreeable if they were softer, and had frills, and nice abstract patterns on the surface. And maybe if, instead of being tools of penetration and fluid expulsion, they were instead just used for keeping things warm. After a few more changes in a similar vein, you find that you have accidentally designed a tea cosy instead.
>>576
Your character, being an abstract amalgamation of your attitudes, skills, beliefs and values, cannot be changed so suddenly by anything short of brain damage, and certainly doesn't come in sheets. You chant a few empty syllables into the equally empty space around you, but experience no response, either internal or external.
>>577
You hear a tapping outside, so faint you almost think it your imagination, and leave the stuffy little room to investigate. Outside, on the small metal walkway running along the southern edge of the room, you find Jimmy Sphincter. She looks up at you and cocks her head expectantly. Looking around, the room is otherwise just as you left it, with the many empty cloning pods and the flooding. There are small ripples playing on the otherwise still water surface. Presumably, Jimmy must have disturbed the water recently.
Then, to your dismay, you hear a scraping noise coming from the room you were just in.
>>578
Fearing the worst, you rush back to appraise the situation. To your surprise, there are no signs of movement in any of the dead, but rather the black stone cube in the room you were locked in earlier appears to be shifting back and forth slightly. It stops as soon as you come near. Still, you refuse to take any chances.
The corpses of Alexei, Aaron and Jacqueline are already about as hacked apart as they're going to get - indeed, you are still carrying Jacqueline's dismembered leg, for reasons you can't quite recall - but Conundrum-chan's body looks all too reanimateable. Using the stone shard, you hack off each of her limbs and throw them into the pile with all the other body parts. Not that being dismembered seems to have stopped things reanimating in the past, you realise.
>>579
Come to think of it, you aren't quite sure yourself.
destroy penis
throw limbs onto the stone cube
initiate an amorous allemande to the stone cube
Having finally peed and gotten rid of that nagging discomfort, and having cast off a previous reality paradigm in blood and gunpowder, and having furthermore found a few new religious beliefs, I find myself entirely lacking in any real direction.
I feel bound to merely repeat basic things ritualistically for a while until I can recover and try to understand myself better.
I am thirsty. I must drink. I must find apple juice. If there is no apple juice nearby I must drink water. I must drink as much as I can hold without vomiting, and I must wait for my stomach to empty and drink again.
The answers will come later.
I am Jack's herniated bladder.
Relax bum
SHOW ME
SHOYU
PUNCTUAL GOMEZ, PUNCTUAL GOMEZ
>>581
You wipe your mind of any knowledge of the male genitalia. Having already overcome amnesia, such a manipulation of your own memory proves almost trivial. You annihilate your every penile association, from Freudian psychoanalysis to anatomical nomenclature, until you have forgotten even what you are forgetting or why. You have destroyed, within yourself, the very essence of the penis. The penis no longer exists to you.
>>582
You shower the cube with giant pieces of bloody confetti. Nothing happens.
>>583
Well, you think to yourself, that is one handsome cube, especially when it's all covered in the blood and mutilated corpses of almost everyone you know. You invite it to join you in a formal dance, but it just vibrates momentarily then sits still. You try using some form of rock animation (active skill) to force it to dance one way or another, but it seems to have about two orders of magnitude too much mass. How bothersome.
>>584
You sigh quietly to yourself, thinking about how you've come to this point. Perhaps it would've been better just to stay in that virtual paradise. I mean, even if the companionship left something to be desired, the apple juice was simply divine... Alas, even if there was apple juice in this damned place at some point, it's long since been vaporised by your explosive escape.
Still, your mouth is dry, and your throat aches for lack of lubrication. You stagger away, into the main room, off the walkway and into the water. You begin by drinking it daintily from cupped hands, before leaning closer and lapping it like a dog, then just pressing your face below the surface and swallowing it down in thick gulps. The water is cool and refreshing, with an earthy, slightly metallic taste. You cannot stop drinking.
You close your eyes. You imagine the entire Palriga Canal flowing into your mouth. You consume, consume, your body nothing but a vessel. Through some combination of exhaustion, water intoxication and, perhaps, regret at killing everyone, you let your head sink into the wall and quietly pass out, face down in the closing water. Somewhere, from a great distance, a vaguely familiar voice says something about errors.
You awaken to a dull headache and a bitter taste in the back of your mouth. You open your eyes, and are immediately thrown by a wave of déjà vu. You are in the exact same room you woke up in last time, complete with the shelves, locked door, cube, cables, and Aaron, Alexei and Jacqueline, peacefully sleeping as though their limbs had been attached the whole time. Which they had, come to think of it.
That bitch! She put you in a simulation inside another simulation!
>>585
You cannot play as Jack's herniated bladder; you can only play as members of your current party.
>>586
You calm yourself down, reminding yourself that anger rarely helps solve problems like this. Having relaxed a little, you try to "bum" a "fag" from Aaron, as those wacky Americans would say (or rather, ask for a cigarette, as you did back at >>544,546). He remains obstinately unconscious.
>>587
You demand to be shown reality as it truly is, or you'll show everyone just what you're truly capable of. It's no empty threat. When no response is forthcoming in any punctual capacity, you decide to investigate for yourself, and soon find some discrepancies between this and your previous existence: when you awoke last time, you still had everything you had had in your inventory previously - in fact, your dress was still wet - whereas this time you have nothing but the (dry) clothes on your back. Unbidden, you think about how Conundrum-chan must've run her hands down your body while you were unconscious to find and confiscate all your concealed weaponry, wondering, perhaps, just how thorough her search might've been, before violently shaking the thought from your head.
Interestingly, your skills and mana seem to have carried over. You are unsure of the full philosophical implications of this fact.
Physically, the room seems to be the same as before; the door is still locked, the hole in the wall is still there, and the shelves and their contents are in the same positions you found them - including the dynamite.
Smoke dynamite like a cigar as if you are a Looney Toon.
Extinguish the fuse on the dynamite out at the last second by shoving it in Alexei's ass.
Praise Zardoz
Disregard software vegans, acquire hydration.
If it was merely a simulation, I have yet to quench my thirst.
Jesus is a friend of mine (I have a friend in Jesus)
I'd drink Gatorade, but I'm afraid that Brominated Vegetable Oil will slowly turn me into a bro.
Embrace your inner bro.
Embrace your innards, bro. They're with you for life.
>>591
Like a cartoon lunatic, you carefully pluck a single stick from the box and stick the end in your mouth. It tastes oily but sweet, with a burning undertone. It does not taste like the sort of thing one should put in one's mouth. Well, you've come this far... You blow a confident puff of air into the thick red stick, as though smoking a cigar, but find you have to clamp your lips onto it in order to keep it from falling out of your mouth. This pressure is enough to cause it to detonate, blowing you and everyone else in the room to smithereens.
GAME OVER
Deaths: 22
(Continuing from most recent saved game: >>590)
>>592
You cannot be entirely certain whether you are now living in reality, or simply another nested simulation, so you decide that you had best be clear about precisely what sort of simulation you are or are not willing to participate in. You lecture the stone cube, as it seems as good an audience as any. You feel slightly uplifted, as though more in control, however slightly. Just as you are winding down, you remember to specify that you mean free as in freedom, not free as in free beer.
>>593
None of the fuses on any of the sticks of dynamite are lit, thankfully - that would be quite a predicament! - but nonetheless it doesn't hurt to be safe. You extinguish it in the most gratuitous and inappropriate manner imaginable: by pulling down Alexei's trousers and thrusting it between his buttocks. The dynamite, however, does not appear amenable to this course of events, and expresses this by violently detonating. Alexei explodes for the second time. Nothing is left of you but a smear of blood, hair and unidentifiable organic bits painting one side of the room.
GAME OVER
Deaths: 23
(Continuing from most recent saved game: >>590)
>>594
"Wow, Zardoz!" you exclaim, just in case he happens to be listening, "You have such a lovely giant stone head! And your bellicist philosophy is so insightful! Keep up the good work, Zardoz!" There is no response.
>>595
All this Zardoz-praising is thirsty work, you find. You search high and low for some bottled water or something like that, without success. Your throat is a little dry, but you aren't quite at the point of resorting to bodily fluids for hydration.
>>596
You call upon your friend Jesus, to no avail. Well, if he were truly your friend, he wouldn't let you go thirsty and trapped in here as you are!
>>597
You think about what sort of fluids you'd like to drink. Those energy drinks are supposedly good for combating dehydration, you seem to recall, but there's something you find vaguely offputting about brominated vegetable oil. Those long, flexible strands dangling from the glycerol head, aliphatic but for their oversized, fuzzy bromine substituents - it's like a jellyfish waiting to sting. Who can guess what such a substance might do to you?
>>598
You embrace your inner onii-chan - that part of you that was always protective of your beloved imouto. Lacking any other suitable outlet, you fawn over the sleeping Jacqueline, before jealously separating her from Alexei and Aaron. They're not to sleep next to your little sister.
>>599
You hug yourself and, implicitly, the viscera lurking beneath your skin. You feel a warm appreciation for their various exotic and interrelated functions, from the biochemical to the genetic to the cellular to the organic level. You will, surely, be with them until death do you part.
Take dynamite. Shoot small westward hole with gun, first moving everybody as far away as possible. (And don't put dynamite in the hole this time.)
Make Samus Aran your role model
>>601
Firstly, you drag everyone's bodies as far from the hole in the wall as possible - which isn't very far, given it's a small space and they're all attached to the cube in the centre of the room. You cautiously lift the box of dynamite and carry it with you. You find that you are not in possession of any guns, meaning that that dastardly hole will have to go unshot for now.
>>602
Being trapped in this room is taking its toll on you, mentally speaking. You take some small comfort in the thought of a certain Samus Aran: a beautiful, brave and capable young lady, not entirely unlike yourself. If only you too had a full body power suit, you think to yourself, so you could morph ball your way through that little gap in the wall.
>>603
Well, if neither Zardoz nor Jesus are going to help you, perhaps that Gomez fellow might show up just in time? You hold your breath a moment in anticipation and, defying even your expectations, hear footsteps on the other side of the door, then the jangling of keys, then, at last, the door beginning to creak open...
If the door opens outward, burst through the door elbow-first to stun whoever is behind it, then run away as fast as possible.
If the door opens inward, wait behind it and slam it shut on the body of whoever's opening it, then run away as fast possible.
>>605
The door opens inwards only a centimetre or two, and a voice emerges - Conundrum-chan's, to be specific - "Cassandra, that's you, isn't it? I heard you talking to yourself from next door. I should've known I couldn't keep you occupied like that for long, but..." She trails off, then continues: "I... I just can't go through with it after all. I think there's a better way of settling this. Please, let me in, and we can talk this over."
Well, you're not falling for that one! You throw your weight against the door, slamming it shut. Conundrum-chan says, coldly, "I see, so that's how it is. As you wish." You hear the lock click shut again, then footsteps leading away. You try to run away, but find yourself still on the wrong side of the door. How inconvenient.
>>606
Why are you here? Is there a meaning to your existence at all? What should you be doing with your life? The answer comes to you all of a sudden in a blinding epiphany. Your life has two goals only: the kicking of asses and the busting of spines. Alas, there is not a single donkey to be found in this gloomy little room. You bust the spines of each of the three dreamers in turn, but they show no response, being still blithely oblivious.
You're getting a little sick of being stuck here. Surely, somewhere between your dynamite, geokinesis, sleeping companions and the fact that Conundrum-chan can apparently hear you, you must be able to contrive a cunning escape plan somehow.
Use geokinesis to make a blunt hammer weapon from shards of stone around the room. Use the hammer to violently smash all machinery in site.
Or in sight, whatever
Resort to bodily fluids for hydration.
>>608,609
They aren't really shards as such, but there are plenty of rock samples in the various boxes on the shelves. You take a fair sized slab of basalt and a long, crystalline lump of orthoclase, and use stone morphing (active skill) to fuse them together. This costs you twenty mana, leaving you 245 remaining. For such a makeshift weapon, it proves actually rather well weighted and comfortable to wield. Tightening your grip, you vow to destroy all machinery in situ.
Unfortunately, there isn't a much mechanical about upon which to release your Luddite rage. After careful consideration of the semantics involved, you decide the cables and apparatus attached to the sleepers doesn't strictly speaking count as machinery, and hence turn your attentions elsewhere. You crush the nibs of a few ball point pens, hammer a tape measure into oblivion, and are then left with nothing but the mechanism of the door. It resists even your most violent swings, reverberating loudly but suffering not even a dent.
You stop suddenly as you hear Conundrum-chan outside make a startled noise, then the sound of something falling over, a scream, and some bizarre inhuman shrieking noise. Your blood goes cold. What is happening? Is this your doing? After more sounds of struggle, you hear a strange flapping noise, something clumsily fiddling with the lock from the other side, then the door clicks open for the second time. Cautiously, you pull it open and look, hammer at the ready.
Hovering outside is that friendly red bird of yours! Gosh, you haven't seem in ages! "Oh Reginald," you exclaim, greeting him with an affectionate tickling under the chin, "Thank you so much!" He must've stolen the key from your captor and freed you himself. What a clever, loyal little creature he is. The room you emerge into is just as it was in the simulation - full of empty cloning pods, and flooded ankle deep.
>>610
You are indescribably relieved to be free, especially as you were getting rather thirsty in there. Now, at last, there's no chance you'll have to drink anything weird just to survive! Your mouth waters at the sight of the expanse of cool, gently glittering water before you. And yet... somehow, you can't help but feel slightly disappointed that you no longer have an excuse to drink your own fluids.
Just to settle the matter once and for all, you sharpen one edge of the hammer (setting you back by five mana) and use it to nick the edge of your hand. You suck the blood from the wound, letting the warm, slightly viscous, ferric tasting liquid spread through your mouth. Mmm. You could get used to that taste.
More importantly, you need to decide what to do next. To the east is a spiral staircase leading up to the surface. To the west is an open door leading to Conundrum-chan's office. Behind you, to the south, the three dreamers are still slumbering, along with that curious stone cube. Of the four subterranean tunnels leading into this room, the ones to the southwest and southeast appear to be flooded (but you could, hypothetically, still try to explore them), water is flowing steadily from the tunnel to the northeast, and the tunnel to the northwest alone looks comfortably traversable.
Hypothetically explore the flooded rooms.
Drink water.
use geokinesis to make a stone scuba suit and explore the flooded rooms for real
Drink as much as you can, the thirst is the worst part of this endless nightmare.
>>612
You stare intently at the two yawning, unlit openings to the subaqueous world below. They betray no hint of their contents, but that doesn't mean you can't guess. You begin by hypothetically exploring the southwest tunnel, which, you imagine, after a short, narrow shaft leading down at a roughly 45 degree angle, opens into a now flooded ruin. The crumbling masonry whispers of illustrious temples and unknowably ancient rites. Deeper into the structure, further into the cold, clinging water, the architecture twists maddeningly in Escheresque contortions that confound the eye. You sink down twisting helical staircases, through ornate archways, past elaborate arabesques in tessellating or fractal patterns, until you lose all sense of direction or self. You drown in your own imagination.
>>613
Returning to reality, you bend down, cup your hands and swallow several mouthfuls of the cool water. It washes the blood from your hands and your throat, refreshing you inside and out.
>>614
You hear splashing behind you. Conundrum-chan is stumbling in your direction. One hand is clutching her right eye, from beneath which a line of blood is tracing its way down her cheek. She calls something after you, but you can't even make out the words. Reginald swoops back and forth around her, and she bats at him a little, but continues drawing steadily closer to you.
Well, this is awkward. You hope she doesn't want to kiss you again or something. I mean, it's not like you'd like that or anything. Eager to avoid such an emotionally turbulent reunion, you rush off towards the southeast tunnel, as heading towards the southwest would involve having to pass Conundrum-chan. Using your stone morphing (active skill), you morph a fair chunk of cavern wall into a modest, single tank diving suit. This costs you 140 mana, leaving you 100 mana remaining.
Being made of stone, the tube covering your mouth and nose is immobile, making it a little inconvenient. Similarly, you have no way of actually compressing the air in the tank, meaning it's more like just a single extra lungful of air on your back. Still, it's better than nothing. Very, very carefully, you submerge the box of dynamite, which you are still carrying for some bizarre suicidal reason, and dive with it beneath the surface, praying that the increase in pressure doesn't offend it enough to detonate.
You cannot see anything, and navigate by following the roof of the tunnel with the hand that isn't otherwise occupied. The tunnel levels out soon after passing underwater, then carries on more or less straight for about fifty metres. Just as you are desperately running out of air, it begins to rise again, and you see faint lights glimmering on the other side of a water surface just above you. You emerge, breath deeply, and pull yourself out onto the shore.
You are in a large, black space. You cannot see any walls or ceiling. There are odd luminescent little white bell shaped objects hanging from strands, looking much like larger, glowing versions of lilies of the valley. These illuminate a small lake, from which you have just emerged, surrounded by tall, organic shapes that tower away into the darkness above. The ground is everywhere covered in a thick layer of glistening moss, soft and damp to the touch, with little clusters of mushrooms or foliate coral-like structures. The air smells musty, with a faint undercurrent of overripe fruit.
A persistent breeze is blowing from the west. A narrow valley, bounded on both sides by the glowing organisms, winds away to the southeast. Everywhere else is thickly overgrown and more or less unlit, but the foliage seems especially thick, dark and foreboding to the north.
>>615
Ignoring your surroundings for now, you set down the miraculously unexploded box of dynamite and slurp greedily from the pool. You drink, drink, gulping it down but never quite quenching that itching dryness at the back of your throat, until you are interrupted by a rustling sound from the northeast.
Imitate the rustling sound.
Can we still hear grinding noises?
>>617
You lean over and grasp the base of a group of long, thin stalks, each of which terminates in a bulb shaped like a poppy bud. A brisk shake yields a rustling not dissimilar from the earlier. The rustling from the northeast comes again, this time louder - or possibly just closer? Your pulse quickens and you tighten your grip on the makeshift hammer, which is currently your only form of defence.
There are a few tense moments of silence, then, without warning, a huge, lumbering form emerges into the field of light. Being lit only by the feeble light of the luminescent bell things, you have trouble discerning its details, but it seems somewhat like a giant trilobite - at least the size of a small horse - with an elongated cephalon tapering to a single upturned point, and spines running the entire length of its back. It has more legs than you can count.
It rears up on its back legs, letting its forelegs dangle and waving its antennae back and forth. Its mouth flaps open and closed a few times, then it folds back down and slips into the pool, disappearing with a surprisingly subtle splash. It is immediately followed by another three of the same, two of which similarly sink beneath the surface. The last hesitates and turns to face you. It takes a few steps towards you, waving the horn on its head several times in what might be a provocative gesture.
You realise that the three that just entered the water must be on their way to the cloning facilities, meaning that Conundrum-chan and the dreamers are in danger! You are still wearing the diving equipment, so you could return right now if you tried. Alternatively, you could try to deal with the specimen currently threatening you - either by standing and fighting, or by evading it.
>>618
The trilobite creature is making odd clicking noises, though you can't even tell which of its all too many body parts the noise is coming from. Nothing seems to be grinding just now.
tame one of the trilobites and make it our mount
Throw the box of dynamite a the trilobite HORN.
Use Stone Morphing to carve 1 kg of rock (thus spending 20 mana) from the ceiling, splitting it into 100 10g bits, each bit with a sharp point pointing down, thus causing a deadly rock shower. Use rock diving suit as a shield. If that doesn't work, animate the rock bits and order them to stab the trilobites.
mount trilobite -t
Kill the GNUfag.
Use the spellbook of Richard M Stallman to free yourself of the proprietary binds of this mortal coil!
Reflect on the irony of my status as poster >>623 and a solely Windows user.
Actually, it's a terrible way to start. Computer science is a terrible name for this business. First of all it's not a science, it might be engineering or it might be art, but I actually see that computer so-called-science has a lot in common with magic.
conjure the spirits of the computer with our spells
Flip to a random page in Sussman's holy text and read out an incantation to bind all evil.
>>620
You approach the creature slowly, making cooing noises. It allows you to get close, but, as soon as you try to mount it, flinches away, makes a loud hissing noise, rears back and then gores you horribly through the thorax. You die painfully.
GAME OVER
Deaths: 24
(Continuing from most recent saved game: >>619)
>>621
Crouching, you reach out and cautiously lift the box of dynamite. With one violent movement, you throw the entire box at the trilobite, in response to which it begins to charge at you. The dynamite explodes on contact with the creature's head, propelling the horn in your direction at a substantial velocity. It skewers your upper neck, severing your spinal cord and killing you instantly.
GAME OVER
Deaths: 25
(Continuing from most recent saved game: >>619)
>>622
Though you cannot even see it, you guess - correctly - that the ceiling is made of rock. You transmute a clump of it, directly above the trilobite, into a hundred needles. They rain from above, but, disappointingly, bounce harmlessly from the creature's carapace. Though unharmed, it is spooked by the assault, and retreats immediately away into the darkness to the north. It has vanished before you have time to react.
>>623
Well, that particular potential mount may be gone, but you know for certain there's another three just a single short diving trip away. You don your equipment, gather your paraphernalia, take a deep breath and make the return trip. You resurface back in the cloning facility. The three trilobites are not far in front of you, one curiously nudging open a cloning pod using its horn, the other two standing by and watching. Realising now how easily startled they are, you realise that this will require some tact on your part.
You gently begin to levitate (why, you almost forgot you had that ability!) and silently float over towards the three of them. You leave the dynamite on top of a nearby pod, anticipating a violent response to your next action. Finally, heart pounding, you pounce onto the one on the right, which is a little further separated from the rest.
You successfully avoid catching yourself on the dorsal spines, and land just behind the cephalon. You immediately grasp both librigena - conveniently placed as they are on either side of the head - and thus are able to avoid its bucking and struggling. As it hisses, stamps and whips back and forth, its two companions hiss and run away, one back into the southeast tunnel where it came from, the other to the northeast.
After only a few seconds, the trilobite apparently accepts its new position and ceases struggling. It lowers its head and hisses submissively.
>>624
You make a mental note to ruthlessly murder any wildebeest cigarettes that dare cross paths with you.
>>625
You are dubious about this so-called spellbook, considering that you've done plenty of magic already without resorting to any stereotypical musty tomes at all. There don't seem to be any books about anyway, arcane or otherwise.
>>626
You're not sure if it classes as irony, but you do think that exclusively using windows sounds rather silly, when most buildings are much more easily accessible through their doors.
>>627
You decide that you had best make a good first impression with your new steed, and for this reason you certainly shouldn't confuse or frighten it by describing your current quest as computer science. It might be vaguely scientific, but it doesn't have much to do with computers, after all. Rather, it is a magical adventure of discovery, Machiavellianism and murder. What fun your new pet is in for!
>>628
By clamping your legs in closer, you manage to will the trilobite (you really need to come up with a name for him/her, you tell yourself) forwards, towards Conundrum-chan's office. You pass by the room you were locked in, noting that the three dreamers are no longer there, nor is Stove Stove. Finally, you charge into the office, focussed squarely on the cloning console, of which you intend to summon the spirits.
The room is not empty - far from it, in fact - and the current residents are more than a little surprised to see you enter on trilobiteback. "Aaaaaaaaargh!" screams Conundrum-chan. "Whaaaaaaaargh!" screams Alexei. "Blaaaaaaaargh!" screams Aaron. Jacqueline cowers behind Alexei's back. Stove Stove shakes violently. Your mount impales the CRT monitor of the console on its horn, causing the image to die in shower of sparks. The trilobite stamps its feet and hisses triumphantly.
This might make spirit conjugation a little difficult, you reflect. Maybe you should've put more skillpoints into technomancy.
>>629
You aren't sure who this man of Suss is or what texts he might or might not have written, but you'd be very cautious about "binding all evil" given how many ethically questionable decisions you personally have made in your life.
Ask the screaming people whether "wildebeest" or "brontosaurus" is a more hilarious word.
name the trilobte "Dr. Gay Hitler"
Make sure that Dr. Gay Hitler gets a snappy pink uniform ASAP.
vc: hell
Ram Stove Stove with Dr. Gay Hitler repeatedly.
Sing Rams' "Pizza Forever" while you ram.
Goad trilobite into killing everyone in the room so you can pee without anyone watching you.
Pee on trilobite.
Wake up.
Pee in one of the drawers before the others wake up.
Go find some water to drink.
>>632
"Aaaaaaaaargh!" replies Conundrum-chan. "Whaaaaaaaargh!" replies Alexei. "Brontosaurus!" replies Aaron.
>>633
You name your brave steed in memory of a famous twentieth century dictator, whilst acknowledging its relative lightheartedness and gaiety. You simultaneously bestow upon it a PhD in honour of its outstanding work in the field of being ridden by you - a rare privilege indeed.
>>634
Unfortunately, the only clothing nearby is already being worn. There isn't any suitable cloth from which you could fabricate a uniform either. Jacqueline's frilly pink dress seems perfect for the job, but she won't part with it willingly, and Alexei will probably complain as well. Alternatively, of course, you could just disembowel a few of these screaming mooks and dress Dr. Gay Hitler in their intestines.
You settle for a simpler option: you remove your own pantsu - which are pink, with a fetching seigaiha pattern printed on top - and place them over Dr. Gay Hitler's antenna. It's not much of a uniform, but it'll have to do.
>>635,636
The others have by this point begun to stop screaming. Conundrum-chan is wielding your geologist's hammer, Alexei his own white energy weapon, and Jacqueline your stone sickle. The three have backed into one corner, sheltering behind Stove Stove, weapons at the ready. Aaron is standing to one side with a bewildered half-smile on his face.
"Spaghetti... macaroni... mortadella... tortellini... mozzarella!" you chant, in what might be the strangest battle cry you've heard in a while. On "mozzarella", you dig your legs into Dr. Gay Hitler's sides and he charges forwards, monitor and all, towards that accursed stone cube. Just as they are about to meet, Stove Stove shakes violently and your steed vanishes entirely. You are left hovering in midair.
Aaron lunges forwards and embraces you tightly, telling you how glad he is that you're alive and how you'll always be his beloved daughter, and so on. The other three stare at you, weapons still at the ready. Finally, he releases you.
>>637
At that moment your dear trilobite, headwear and all, sticks his cephalon around the doorframe, hisses uncertainly, and retreats back again. Apparently he was simply teleported outside the room. Apparently he is also a coward, as he ignores your instructions to brutally murder everyone in the room (hopefully not including you) and instead splashes away to hide amongst the cloning pods.
You begin to run after him to punish him with some urinary castigation, but Conundrum-chan - whilst calling out "Oh no you don't!" - grabs you from behind, lifts you into the air, and busts your spine. You are in too much pain and shock to retaliate, but at least you don't pass out, so you don't have to wake up from it. Everyone else is quite awake and staring at you. You can't pee in any drawers like this.
Conundrum-chan sits on your chest, pinning you to the ground, leans over you and begins to lecture you sternly. "Right, listen up, because this is important. Since I put you in the simulation, about two or three days have passed, and in that time the sun never rose. The moon still seems to be rising and setting normally. Undead grunts have been continually crawling from the forest. They... they won't die. Until now I've just been throwing them into the river, and they get washed away, but they won't die, no matter what I do."
She takes a deep breath, regains her composure, then continues: "I tried using cloned grunts as meatshields, but every one that dies adds to their ranks, so I stopped. When I woke up this... most recently, I found that all the cloning pods were empty. I don't know how it happened; I was asleep in front of the console the whole time. After that you escaped, and then I woke up the other three" - she waves a hand in their direction - "So we can work out what to do next together." Rather than reply, you gaze longingly at the cool, refreshing water outside.
You note in passing that not once did she mention the loss of her eye.
Admit defeat, express willingness to put our differences behind us and work together to stop the grunts. Suggest stopping the undead with reverse ailuromantic weather prediction.
AH NU CHEEKI BREEKI
use geomancy to tunnel ourselves into an underground shelter, then have jack summon a cat, and throw stones at it while using reverse ailuromantic weather prediction to cause a shower of meteorites
emerge from the shelter years later and become the ruler of the wastes
Is Jack even here? I thought Conundrum-chan was Jack's clone. Or vice versa. I'm so confused about the plot right now.
Find out if Ao Oni is still alive in this version of the universe.
>>639
In an uncharacteristically submissive manner, you make an effort to integrate into and work together with the group in the interests of self preservation. When it comes to tactics, you suggest reverse ailuromantic weather prediction, but nobody seems to have any idea what you're talking about. The only local ailuromancer is, of course, your foster sister, Jack Aaronova, whom you haven't seen since helping defend her camp against the assault by Theodore's Church of the Schismatics.
>>640
Oh no! You forgot about that cheeky brook/creek (breek?) - the Palriga Canal! If you aren't careful, it'll flood the entire cloning facility with delicious, crisp, refreshing water. Also undead might get in that way. You lead the group out into the main room. Dr. Gay Hitler is still here, hiding unsubtly behind a cloning pod, with his antenna and monitor-adorned horn quite obviously sticking out.
You stop suddenly as you see a human figure crouched in the darkness at the mouth of the Palriga. As soon as they catch sight of you they yelp and stand up straight. Jack Aaronova, of all people, emerges from the shadows. She is dressed in a makeshift plate armour composed of what appear to be segments of one of the giant trilobites you saw earlier. She is absolutely covered in blood. You've never seen so much blood at once. It's caked onto her skin, clinging to her hair, splashed all over her clothing, and especially thick on the ceremonial stone knife she's gripping in her right hand.
She jabs the knife into the air in front of her, towards Alexei, looking quite aghast, stammering "Y-you're dead! I saw you explode! How are you alive‽" Come to think of it, how is he alive after that? Conundrum-chan chuckles to herself, and says it's "her little secret", or at any rate, it is of no consequence now. Jack Aaronova is not amused.
>>641
Unfortunately, the only way you could use your geomancy to dig is through stone morphing (active skill). With your remaining 80 mana, you could only afford to dig away four kilograms of stone, which would be a rather poor excuse for a shelter. Actually, the two adjacent rooms here - the one you were locked in and the one with the cloning console - would form decent emergency shelters; no tunnelling required.
You are now playing as Jack Aaronova.
You summon Theodore - who is still curled around your neck, in a comfortable crook above the top segment of your armour, hidden under all the blood and hair. He appears reticent at the prospect of jumping into the water flooding the floor, so you, along with the group, return to Conundrum-chan's office, where you set down Theodore. He immediately begins grooming himself with his tongue, but all Great Neptune's ocean wouldn't wash that much blood from his fur.
You spend 125 mana invoking inverse ailuromantic weather prediction (active skill) on Theodore. You begin to throw rocks - which, conveniently, you happened to have with you - at him. He scampers here and there, but the others, being in on the plan, prevent him from leaving the room. "DAMN YOU, HUMAN! I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE DOING!" he shouts at you telepathically. The effect elapses without Theodore suffering more than one or two grazing strikes and severely injured pride.
You think staying in this room for several years sounds deathly boring, even if you get to be a ruler afterwards. Nonetheless, you don't plan to visit the surface any time soon.
>>642
You are fairly certain that you are here. You aren't sure why everyone else is here, least of all the exploded Alexei. And you don't trust that clone of yourself. She clearly knows more than she's telling.
>>643
You cannot see any blue demons from where you are. Of course, you've no chance of finding him now that you're actively looking for him; everyone knows Ao Oni always comes when you least expect it.
At that moment there's a loud bang and a dull rumble from somewhere far above. "Is that...?" begins Ariadne. "That's probably the barricade breaking, yes." replies Conundrum-chan coolly.
Play rock-paper-scissors to decide who goes to check on the barricade.
Give princess water.
Wash blood off of self.
Determine if you are thirsty.
If thirsty, seek more water to drink while you have time.
If unthirsty, seek a quiet area to pee to avoid an embarrassing incident when the next blood-caking battler inevitably drags on all day.
If interrupted by attackers, resign self reluctantly to battle-related omorashi.
Demand answers from Conundrum-chan.
Find Rupert. The presence of a Brobdingnagian brontosaurus is sorely needed in this story.
Demand answers from Rupert.
Demand answers from Dr. Gay Hitler.
Demand answers from dokyuns.
Be dokyuns, give answers to Dr. Gay Hitler et al.
Order a copy of Doku Doku Ryouki Zukan.
Be Dr. Gay Hitler, job change to red mage.
Be DQN, demand answers from faghodge et al.
>>645
With a confident smirk, you gather everyone but Theodore around and whisper your plan into their eager ears. Reintegrating the feline into the group, you suggest a simple game of luck to choose who has to investigate the noise. You all chant "Jan, ken, pon!" and, on "pon", unfold your fists to form flat sheets (apart from Stove Stove, who is composed entirely of flat sheets anyway). Theodore looks down at his extended paw, mews in unhappy subjugation, then pads away out of the room and up the spiral staircase to the surface.
>>646
You can't find any princesses. You yourself are probably the closest, being a high priestess, but you don't particularly need any water just now.
Being unexpectedly amongst fine society (relatively speaking), you feel acutely underdressed. You descend to the water level and begin attempting to clean your incarnadine attire and body. The water nearby is stained quite dramatically, with clouds of bloody dirt blooming, dispersing and settling all around you. You manage to get some of the fresher stains off, but remain quite unambiguously sanguinary.
You are not thirsty. Well, perhaps a little bloodthirsty, but, I mean, we're all like that all the time, aren't we? You don't particularly need to pee either; in fact, you just went before you got here.
>>647
"You!" you demand, pointing menacingly at your clone, "Spill your secrets, doppelgänger! Why is the physicist still in one piece‽" She appears somewhat taken aback, then admits that she just used her teleportation (other)(active skill) to teleport him - at the last second before he was consumed by the explosion - into a room off the main corridor of the white building nearby. She then went in, subdued him, took him downstairs and plugged him into the simulation. Cunning.
>>648
You are unexpectedly thrown by an immense wave of loneliness. You feel the need for comfort that only an even larger sauropod can provide. You begin to ascend the steps towards the place you last saw him. There are various echoing thumps and smacking noises, along with a prolonged yowling. Theodore passes by you at high speed, heading downwards. As you turn one more revolution, you are confronted with a wall of human bodies - or parts thereof - forming one continuous, groping mass of discoloured flesh. You try to back away, but are too slow, and are caught by the flesh.
>>649
Why have you forsaken me, Rupert‽" you entreat. He does not respond. The pile of undead flesh consumes you like some sort of macabre phagocytosis. You suffocate in the midst of the cold, contorted blob.
GAME OVER
Deaths: 26
(Continuing from most recent saved game: >>656)
>>650
You turn to the flamboyant yet coy trilobite and demand loudly that he explain precisely what he thinks he's doing. He rears up on his hind legs and waves his forelegs and antennae while nodding his horn up and down in an ambiguous gesture. You become aware of a slow rumbling sound coming from the staircase.
>>651
You cannot find any dokyuns. The rumbling increases in volume, and Theodore emerges and scampers over to cower behind your legs.
>>652
You cannot be dokyuns; you can only play as members of your current party.
You give Dr. Gay Hitler - and anyone else who will listen - answers to no questions in particular: yes, no, maybe, nineteen, it doesn't exist, perhaps, no, no, no, maybe, strawberry, yes, they call it that for a reason, impossible, no.
>>653
At that moment, perhaps in response to your order and perhaps not, a huge gory mass of mostly dismembered human bodies pours out from the staircase to the surface. It spreads into the water and then slowly draws to a halt. Your party assumes battle positions, weapons at the ready, with the exception of Aaron, Theodore and Dr. Gay Hitler, who are all too busy hiding awkwardly behind cloning pods.
>>654
You are now playing as Dr. Gay Hitler. You aren't sure what your job is, or what a red mage is. In fact, you understand almost nothing about your current situation. You are quite scared.
>>655
Perhaps, you consider, being a stereotypical young Japanese delinquent might help, somehow. Unfortunately, you don't have any hair which you could dye blonde, nor are there nearby stores to fail to shoplift from, nor do you speak any Japanese or have any understanding of Japanese internet culture. You don't even know who Faghodge et al. is.
The mass of flesh disgorges a single animate corpse - a thoroughly exenterated grunt with its intestines hanging loosely from its abdomen, and, unusually enough, its head encased in solid basalt. Ariadne and Conundrum-chan appear taken aback, apparently recognising the figure now lumbering steadily towards them. The flesh continues to writhe and pulsate, threatening to disgorge more.
Be Aaron. Kill the mass of flesh WITH FIRE, just like Aya Drevis would have done.
DRR DRR DRR
Be Jack. Kill any survivors with pantsu.
Be Ariadne. Stab things with rock weapons.
>>658
You are now playing as Aaron Aaronovitch Aaronov.
Just like your favourite cute chainsaw wielding eleven year old, your first instinct when confronted with a mass of undead flesh is to burn it; burn it all, until nothing is left. With no time to lose, you rush into Conundrum-chan's office and retrieve - still there untouched since >>482 - the petrol canister, box of matches, and a single Kendal mint cake.
You reemerge to find Conundrum-chan and Ariadne already locked in battle with the basalt-headed grunt, Ariadne attacking with her handmade stone hammer and Conundrum-chan with the geologist's hammer she confiscated earlier. They appear to be aiming to debilitate it but keep it in one piece, rather than simply cutting it into smaller, still active pieces. Jacqueline distracts it by tapping it on the back of the head with the pommel of her stone sickle then retreating out of reach, allowing the other two to attack unimpeded. Alexei is unable to help, as his energy weapon would cause too much collateral damage.
You approach the flesh, getting as close as you can without being at risk of being grabbed and pulled in, and slosh petrol liberally all over the near side of the pile. The characteristic smell of mid-length hydrocarbons soon fills the air. The throbbing motion towards the top of the mass grows more violent, and, finally, there emerges the upper half of a girl's body - not a grunt, like the rest of the corpses. You recognise her as the girl in the wheelchair you met back at >>307.
She casts a cold glare at you all through unblinking eyes, and her bloodless lips twist into a lopsided smirk. "My my, so this is where you've all been hiding, is it?" She singles out Jack Aaronova and her smile dissolves. "You've broken your promise, High Priestess. You know the consequences. Frankly I don't give a damn about your precious living playmates, but unless you give yourself up now they'll end up getting... involved." Jack doesn't move. Her eyes then shoot to the top of a nearby cloning pod, where Theodore is trying to surreptitiously make his escape. "And the same goes for you, High Priest. You've been playing with fire."
She apparently hasn't noticed that the pile of undead she's half-buried in is covered in petrol. Having been undead quite a while now, her olfactory capacities probably aren't what they used to be. With only minor difficulty, you light a corner of the Kendal mint cake, and throw it into the heart of the flesh mass. The vapours ignite with a loud bang, and a wreath of fire engulfs the whole thing. A chorus of screams and moans rises from the burning pile. Thick billows of smoke begin to form and spread along the ceiling. There is an appalling smell of burning flesh.
>>659
Whilst disaster risk reduction is a good method of improving wide-scale resilience in the face of natural disasters, the current disaster you face is of a decidedly unnatural bent.
>>660
You are now playing as Jack Aaronova.
Thanks to Ariadne and Conundrum-chan's work, the basalt headed grunt is now just twitching face down in the water, unable to support itself on its horribly mangled limbs. The flesh mass seems too busy screaming in pain to attack you.
The attackers are all quite clearly dead (and were to begin with) so the only survivors of the attack are the group you were already a part of. You don't trust them, however, and feel that now, when they are likely complacent with victory, is the perfect time to show your true colours, by garrotting them with a pair of pantsu - for instance, those on Dr. Gay Hitler's head. You quietly approach him and try to take them, but he seems to have grown fond of his uniform, and resists violently. He whacks you in the head - your one unarmoured part - with the CRT monitor on his horn, then impales you on the end. You die.
GAME OVER
Deaths: 27
(Continuing from most recent saved game: >>662)
>>661
You are now playing as Ariadne Aaronova.
The only rock weapon you're currently armed with is your stone hammer, which isn't much good for stabbing. You try to persuade Jack Aaronova to part with her ceremonial knife - which she vehemently refuses - then instead settle for sharpening the hilt of your hammer using stone sharpening (active skill), setting you back by ten mana. You have seventy mana remaining.
You gleefully stab the floor, wall, door, cloning pods, Dr. Gay Hitler's CRT monitor, Dr. Gay Hitler himself (without penetrating his carapace), and the still moving remains of the basalt headed grunt. You feel better for it.
The fire atop the flesh mass is starting to go out. It seems to have changed shape, with the leading edge having stretched forwards into the water. The undead girl is now at the front, mostly submerged and no longer burning. She lifts her head, her skin burnt and discoloured and barely clinging to her face, and mutters to herself "...ieces of shit... I'd hoped it wouldn't come to this, but I suppose I have to return to..."
In mid-sentence, her body contorts violently, limbs elongating, bifurcating and branching, as her hair falls out and her head atrophies away into a single, toothy maw. Her body swells into a formless, bloated, pulsating blob. In seconds she has metamorphosed into a large undead tentacle monster, appendages groping in your direction. She seems to be aiming for Jack Aaronova, but she has more than enough tentacles for all of you.
Turn the situation into an advertisement for Tentacle Grape brand soda.
make an outdated memetic reference
mongle some cock
happily grab a woman's breasts
Continue Masturbation!!!
poop
>>664
Tearing away the fourth wall like tissue paper, you turn to face the reader and tell them that at the end of a long, tiring day of murder and evil, you like nothing better than a cool, refreshing bottle of Tentacle Grape brand soda. The sensation of that sugary purple elixir slipping deep inside you is second to none. You express hope that the reader will soon be joining you in the slimy, acetabuliferous grip of Tentacle Grape's customership, before pulling a bottle of the said substance from behind your back and taking a healthy swig. You exhale loudly, flash the reader a winning smile, and wink exaggeratedly.
The approaching undead tentacle monster, perhaps unappreciative of your disrespectful portrayal of her kind, grabs you by every limb, lifts you from the ground, dangles your head into her enormous toothy mouth, and bites down hard. Your neck is severed entirely.
GAME OVER
Deaths: 28
(Continuing from most recent saved game: >>663)
>>665
"All your base are belong to us!" you exclaim gleefully. This is not true. You don't know where the undead base(s) are, and you have no particular claim to any area of land that could even potentially fit the bill.
>>666
You can't find any cockerels here. The closest you know of is Reginald the red bird, who is currently - my god! He's perched on the box of dynamite that you left on top of a cloning pod to the southeast. That could be dangerous. Unfortunately, there's a lot of tentacles and badly burnt - but still animate and full of hatred for the living - undead separating you from him.
>>667
As Jack Aaronova's chest is shielded by her trilobite armour, you aren't particularly fond of Jacqueline, and the other girl has spontaneously turned into a tentacle monster, you settle for groping Jack Conundrum-chan's delightfully small, soft, delicate breasts. She squeals, wriggles free and says "Not now, Ariadne!" You suddenly come to your senses and realise that you've done something inappropriately intimate with Conundrum-chan again. You blush violently, realising with shame how much you've complicated your relationship with her once again.
Then again, she only said not now, not never... Perhaps...
>>668
You call upon the tentacle monster by name. She stops and looks straight at you (possibly; it's hard to tell when she doesn't have any eyes) for a few seconds, tentacles poised uncertainly in the air. "Now, while it's distracted!" Aaron shouts to Alexei, who is currently aiming his energy weapon squarely at Continue-chan. He squeezes the trigger and a few sparks spit feebly from the end, but nothing further happens.
"Dammit!" curses Alexei, grabbing Jacqueline's wrist and making a run for the northwest tunnel, apparently abandoning the rest of you to Masturbation's wrath. You and Conundrum-chan - but probably not the others - know that that tunnel ends in a magma pool, and is likely a dead end, unless the lift to Theodore's chamber above has another exit you don't know about.
>>669
Your parcopresis forbids it.
Apologize to Continue-chan.
Hand over the bottle of Tentacle Grape as a peace offering.
The only thing standing between you and a satisfying poop is this tentacle monster and all of these supposed allies.
It's simple, crush the head and spine of the girl at the center of the tentacle mass.