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skwerl56767

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  1. There was a sudden ripping sensation from his side as the mech pulled his attacker's limb taught. He didn't know if he should expect to drag this tentacled-human with him, or for the tentacle to release him or fight with him, so he barely gave it a second thought when the limb abruptly released, nicely marring his plating in the process. Typheus immediately braked and flew back, pursuing the tentacle, flying aft just in case it tried to spear him again. There was a scream from its origin, some crazed ranting, normal agitated noises. The tentacle then swung, giving Typheus a clearer view: the human had now turned into a completely black thing and was wrapping its limbs around the other human that had tails, which was distinctly different by his orange glow. It seemed like a great distraction, and from his peripheral he could see Fiddlesticks standing up slowly, not in immediate danger. So this other tailed human must be a significant rival to this black thing. Then some unfortunate person suddenly blinked in through the Gateway, landing squarely on the black creature's head, causing it to buckle. It stood up - no, the creature it was riding stood up - and casually disregarded the beast. Another human, and a horse? Figures. Makes for an even better distraction though. Typheus dove toward the black creature while it was weak and braked above its head before shutting off his thrusters, dropping down over the top of it with a heavy thud. He unsheathed his blades and placed on foot on its neck, putting enough weight on it to get the message across to stay still; if this thing still had a human body underneath, he will be quick to disengage it. The only thing stopping the mech is the question of whether the black form was just as infuriating as the tentacles. He studied it, gathering clues, ignoring Lara as she approached the newcomer to explain what was going on. This thing behaved like flesh, but so did the tentacles... eyes are common weak points, so if it tried to struggle he could at least blind it... Typheus looked up at a sharp hiss ending in a short, metallic shriek, like a steel beam was moved across another. Fiddlesticks was crouched low about twenty quli away, still uncertain of putting her full weight on her legs after the missile torched her, glaring daggers into the black thing. "What are you waiting for?! Kill it!!" she screeched, almost cutting the end of Lara's explanation off. Typheus prepared to retort that he didn't know how to kill it, but that would be a stupid thing to say if this thing could still understand words. "We need to see what the XDRS wants to do with it," he said instead. "That thing is not worthy of imprisonment," she snarled, shooting her glare back at it before leveling it with the Superiority model. He said nothing, holding back his real thoughts on the matter. This was the XDRS's turf, and he wasn't appointed by them to make any decisions about newcomers going berserk, setting the Gateway on fire, or beheading tentacle monsters that nearly killed everyone - barring the fact that Fiddlesticks didn't help, thinking her space-age tech could at least blast the guy back a few feet. With that thought, he glanced back at what he presumed was the entity's feet, but they didn't look like anything with good grip, nor were there puncture claws like what he and Sniper models had for stabilization. More multiverse magic, probably, his thoughts growled in frustration. The mech sighed by flushing out his air intake, removing some built-up exhaust from having flown back into his trail too often. "What are we doing with this?" he asked Lara, gesturing to the black monster under him. Before she could answer though, another voice came from the left: Xander. So now more agents arrive. Typheus took the man's assurance with silence. Deal with him how? What sort of arrangements? How did he know this thing was a human underneath when he just arrived? Did he watch? The Superiority model's mind lingered on the last thought. Just standing back, watching everything... This reeked of the Empire's practices. He didn't think the XDRS was malevolent, by far, but his threads had turned to defense and distrust. It only reminded him, yet again, that neither he nor Fiddlesticks belonged here. They were high-strung military mechs on the run from their Empire, trying to complete a personal mission that would hopefully have an impact on the war in general, or what they were told again and again was a war. As flippant as the Empire was about it, it was no war. It was something more agitating. Almost as agitating as the fact that the both of them still haven't fought a significant battle and have been given few reasons to trust the XDRS as allies. This almost made it; until it was abruptly ended by multiverse magic. He knew he was going to hear for days from Fiddlesticks about how she just wasted a missile. The Superiority model hasn't had much time with mortals, but he knew they loved magic. These past hours have only taught the mech that magic was extremely annoying. Apparently, the science of Zirhon did not meld well with multiverse magic. Typheus grumpily stepped off the black creature, who was still immobile, and marched over to Fiddlesticks. Recognizing the metaphorical wall in his eye, she stiffly stood up, careful not to crush her still-malleable legs, which were close to being cool enough to walk on. He tapped on right arm, leaving a dent in the softened metal, and, not pausing in his step, went over to the podium adjacent to the scene of the fight and opened his emitters. Fiddlesticks very carefully followed him, ignoring the words of the people behind her, while he searched for a signal. It wasn't long before he figured out how to open the Gateway terminal and went to work. Fiddlesticks crouched down opposite of him, enough to block the view of the terminal from most of the others. She stared at his calculated determination. This place was grinding on his wires too, wasn't it? He always had to investigate new things before he knew what to do with them, but ironically enough, they were always too lawless for his taste. Ironic, because he stuck around with her. Well... perhaps now, they would actually go home. At least they would actually know what to do, instead of running around here like a gelustrik with most of its heads cut off. It took a while for Typheus to get the Gateway activated. Fiddlesticks stood guard when her hull had cooled enough, in case anyone tried to interrupt him. Once the suspected coordinates were in, the two machines stood on the center podium, and with a single blink, they were gone. ((EDIT 9/5/19: Poof.))
  2. ((Before anyone asks for the six-hundredth time, yes, the missile has gone off. It went off when Dimitri countered it (which just made it detonate early, as I showed with the image on Discord), which would be Doc's most recent post before this one.)) Typheus had flown way out of range of the blast zone. He heard it go off - the massive boom, the shower of earth and dust that the force had kicked up, the surprised yelps - but not much else; then he was clocked in the wing by something big. Expecting the impact to be debris, he over-corrected his balance to try and dodge it only for something to land in his outstretched claws. Human?? All he caught was a mass of blue with some white and yellow on it. It flopped like a living thing, clearly unconscious and smoldering a bit. Suspicious of what that might mean, he killed his speed and spun around, ready to deflect any tentacles chasing him, yet there wasn't one; apparently those things still had size limits like everything else and the ones in pursuit had shrunken back to help their owner. Lowering his altitude to a safe distance to place the human onto the ground first (not questioning the... tights?), Typheus darted back, returning to the scene of the battle. The grass that hadn't been on fire wasn't spared now, and the soot of what had been grass was now scorched white and black. A small, slightly-sunken epicenter of what is best described as melting earth sat just feet from the aggressive human; it looked like the tentacles that had been chasing the mechs had shrunken back to shield against the blast of force and heat. Frustratingly, that meant the missile literally did nothing to him. Fiddlesticks was appropriately fifteen to twenty feet from where she had been standing, not picking herself up immediately. Her face and front glowed as brightly as her extremely-annoyed red eye. He had only seen that once, where she had to break up a standoff between the two of them and a number of Superiority models; being half-molten (again) was not a great situation for her. Oh, Fidds... he mentally sighed. A quick couple of glances showed that everyone else wasn't much better off: the much lighter combatants had traveled a good distance, possibly okay, but no one appeared dead. That was good at least. Surely there were some burns, but it was nothing that this fancy multiverse base couldn't fix, right? That bird-masked lady seemed to know exactly what to do with Yusei, and Duke didn't have tetanus, somehow. Massive burns should be nothing. He practically laughed aloud at the thought. What a casual way to think of an explosion in your face. Despite the temporary interruption, it just seemed to make the tentacled man angrier, which resumed the fighting as before. One of the other men behind Twilight pulled a similar look, glowing and sprouting tails as well. Typheus hovered and glared for a couple of seconds just to make sure he wasn't going to pull anything funny, but rather than that, the man decided to charge over the searing earth toward the tentacle human. Initially thinking of how stupid that was, the Superiority model told himself that at least he'll distract his target and keep those tentacles away from Fidds. Another glance at her confirmed that she was still holding very, very still, waiting for her hull to cool down, so he landed next to her, one knee on the ground so he was less conspicuous yet still ready to fend off any tentacles that came their way. He watched the battle for a bit, the dying sizzle of the grass quickly drowned out by the sounds of combat. Studying the movements of the tentacles, he noticed that the human controlling them used them as shields twice, and they were tough, yet they moved fast and seemed to easily change momentum; they were more trying to pierce their assailants than swinging or hitting them. Maybe they were very light? If they're light, and I can move fast enough... I can't prove I can move fast enough if I had simply moved out of range... thrashing might work... He pondered the sudden idea, which was the sort of brash, reckless thing Fiddlesticks would do without thinking, but hey, maybe all it needed was some thought and it'll be enough to work. Typheus stood back up, keeping his wings flared, and waited for a good opening. Right when the blonde is distracted... there! The mech burst into a run, kicked on his thrusters and shot forward, claws wide and aimed for the human. He initially had the element of surprise, but missed by a margin of a few inches when a tentacle interrupted the path ahead and he was forced to fly to the side; at worst he singed a few hairs on the way past from having to push thruster fire that way. He uttered his curse silently, now knowing that the tentacle-human will see him coming. He let his momentum carry him out of range, spun around, and shot back toward the human, but now a tentacle was ready and swiftly knocked him down into the ground. The impact dazed the machine, but he picked himself back up anyway and tried to dodge the tentacle; nope! It hit him again and this time he let out an audible snarl as it sent him tumbling back along the ground. Thoroughly annoyed, Typheus tried to dodge it for the third time, this time distancing himself from the fight so he was out of reach and had plenty of time to calculate how to do this. The tentacle wavered just ten feet in front of him, almost like it had its own mind, waiting for him to move again. What is it humans say? 'Third time's the charm'? He looked at all of the empty space above the tentacle: plenty of maneuvering room for both of them, but it meant he'd have to pull the tallest, shortest dive he could in order to get the human. Let's see if it's true. He launched off, the tentacle quickly reengaging with him. He ignored it, focused more on his target. In retrospect, he would have been able to grab the human just fine had he not relied on him being so distracted. Maybe it was the fact that Typheus' flying was too loud and obvious, or maybe the tentacles did expand the human's senses, but either way the mech's swipe wasn't as successful as he hoped; at the same time, he wasn't sure how successful it had been. All he knew is he hit something, he wasn't holding something afterward, and he was spinning through space and half of him was stiff. It was only after he flew forward at full speed for a couple seconds did he feel something slip from under his right side and his thoughts came through a bit less garbled. The first thing he noticed as the bright red notification about hull damage in multiple areas, the most alarming on being the area the stiffness slipped from, which was just next to his computer. Alarmed, Typheus switched to sporadic flight, trying to dislodge whatever weighed down his right side, but it was stubborn. He then tried to look at the rest of him, but he couldn't twist or pivot anywhere. It was like he was skewered through, from ankle to wrist, with two wings caught - blast it all, it was a tentacle, wasn't it?! One probably tried to spear him but only caught half his body and was now stuck there. He had to get out of range! Immediately the mech diverted course toward the sky, going straight for the stratosphere. Once this gnarly thing was pulled away from him, he would have to try a different tactic.
  3. Fiddlesticks stopped firing when the black, writhing masses she was targeting abruptly retreated. Her eye followed them back to the source, turrets still spinning in case they tried anything funny. The source... was a human? Another one of those not-humans! one of her threads sparked in agitation. What are those, butt extensions? Did I even damage them!? Her blast shield narrowed when she failed to see any holes in them, as they surrounded the human and encased him in a sort of black shell. Curse it all! She ignored the other sounds on the field, keeping her eye on the shell as the last of the attacks hit. Something that looked like a laser - but she wasn't about to assume things anymore, with all of these not-humans around - lingered on the shell for a bit too long. It blew open! Fiddlesticks managed to dodge in the nick of time thanks to split-second programming, her right microphones catching the rush of air as a new tentacle shot past her. So it's fighting back, now! She attempted to counter with a hard elbow downward, and she definitely hit it - it was definitely there - but the shock and resistance of the impact briefly stunned her. Rock?! The tentacle barely dipped into the ground, merely swinging its tip to surround her. It was fast! She ducked and slide under it, matching its speed, but not going much faster; it was quick to snake around and try to skewer her. There was a clang and the vibration traveled up her left arm as it glanced off her, knocking her to the side. Her annoyance escalating, she remembered a similar experience with tough tentacles in the past sooner than Typheus, and ran down the length of her attacker, striking a bayonet in it; but nope! All she succeeded in doing was filling the air with a horrendous screeching sound as its tip ground down on the thing's form! With a frustrated yell, only semi-aware of the tentacle's sharp tip rushing after her, she jumped and diverted her momentum into one hard kick, both power-jumping pistons launching at once. Finally, a result! The tentacle was pushed away from her, but not as far as she would have liked. It only gave her a second longer to glare at it before it rushed again, forcing her to dodge yet again; it wouldn't be worth it to waste more bullets, if they couldn't even pierce it! Typheus was quicker to react to the black mass headed his way. It was a bit irritating that it came straight for him when there were so many other assailants; it would have been nice to study them a bit longer. He swiftly darted to the right of it, unscathed, then stopped and turned a 180 to counterattack. Cling! Same result as before. The blade bounced off and nearly threw him off balance. The tentacle had definitely reacted to the impact before, and it did again, this time sweeping around him. Assuming it was a flank tactic, Typheus darted back around and spun, this time throwing out a kick. He managed to hit the side of it, still to no avail, but at least it kept it distracted while he tried to figure out how to attack it properly. He remembered the Mother Snatcher drones from a couple years ago... these somewhat resembled their heads, and those had to be cut lengthwise, else you would just dull your blades. This black thing had no apparent armor or direction though; not even the tip was visible when it aimed itself and tried to spear him again. This time he managed to dodge with only a clip to the wing; this thing was stupid fast! Then he began thinking about what Fiddlesticks did to the first Mother Snatcher they met. Did she have any missiles left right now? Maybe if she aimed at the source... He dove under the tentacle targeting him and shot toward his partner, the black mass behind him stretching impossibly long to keep up the chase. The whole battlefield was chaotic with the movement of the other combatants and their own tentacle concerns. Fiddlesticks had just managed to kick her own attacker away from her, her angry screech almost hilarious and adorable in comparison to the scene. Her tentacle had moved a lot, considering the amount of force applied to it, but it was also very strong and just headed right back for her. The Superiority model popped open his emitters to send her a quick message as he darted past. When she dodged she was able to see him, albeit as just a bright white blur that made her cameras constrict in discomfort. It brought her attention to the message that suddenly appeared in her head. Yet it wasn't words... rockets? WAIT! MISSILES!! How could she forget?! She didn't even think about if the X-Dreamers wanted to just apprehend tentacle-butt for now. Typheus second-guessed it as he smacked the tentacle targeting her to try and bring its attention to him, to give her time to aim, before he shot up into the sky. As quickly as she could, Fiddlesticks whipped around back to the strange-eyed not-human controlling the tentacles, popped a missile in one launcher, and fired it straight toward him.
  4. ((Look I'm actually getting involved again!)) The flames of the Gateway had died down soon after both machines noticed them, fast enough that Fiddlesticks quickly lost interest. You sure grow bored quickly, don't you? one of her threads teased. She mentally huffed at it. I'm just looking for something to do, she muttered back. You just planned something! We're all busy looking at the fire. Or what WAS a fire. "Hm," Typhues grunted, as if in response to her thoughts. His wings fidgeted as the scene calmed, and the 56 model looked at him. "I guess everything's okay." A shriek nearly cut him off, resounding somewhere close to the Gateway's stones, but out of sight. Both machines perked up again. Without the fire accentuating everything, figures were again blending into the dimly-lit grass and the sky. All of them were too distant to properly see what was going on, but it looked like some people were leaving? Typheus' eye followed the moving shapes leaving the scene as he tried to focus on what they were. They were coming closer, it looked like. Fiddlesticks kept looking at the horizon, wondering if they should do something about this, or just stay out of it... Just then, she caught a shadowy form displacing the green grass. Then a much-too-familiar bang echoed from the clearing that kicked her engine up a gear: a gunshot! Typheus jerked back to toward the Gateway, eying the stones and the distant figures. He could see it too now... dogs? Giant snakes? There were black things moving rapidly along the ground, then they were stopped by a barrier; not blue like Duke's, but pink against the skyline. Twilight? He shot a worried look at Dynarst and Kelsier, just to catch their reactions, before a red-brown shape darted out of his peripheral. "Fidds!" he barked impulsively, immediately reaching to stop her. Too slow! Dang that mech! his threads growled. Fiddlesticks didn't listen to him, running ahead, ears laid back, already loading her turrets and feeling her momentum carry her. There's a fight there's a fight there's a fight! Finally I can beat something up!! She whistled happily. It's about time! "Fiddlesticks!" Typheus roared after her. He ran after her, only glancing once at the Luthadel humans in embarrassment of letting her run off like a child toward danger. She was quickly gaining speed, rushing toward the Gateway, so he snapped his wings open and fired the thrusters to catch up to her. She only looked back at him when he kicked off the ground, figuratively grinning. Her iris was completely dark, yet the rest of her eye glowed bright with excitement. "Don't look at me like that!" he reprimanded her, "where do you think you're going?!" "We're going to fight!" "Fiddlesticks!" Worry flashed through his expression for a second. Before he could point out that she didn't have a clue what they were running into, she beeped and went into a full on charge, heading toward the snakes - wait, tentacles?! - that were stopped by the barrier. He thought quickly. She's a brash idiot and needs a second to think, was his first thought. He gave his thrusters an extra flush of fuel to go ahead of her, flying up higher so he wouldn't hit a Gateway stone. What's going on, what's going on... His eye darted over the scene. The barrier was Twilight's, and she had raised it in front of most everyone else present. The black snake-tentacles were definitely aimed toward them. The air was tense. Those things must be what caused the gunshot. Moving fast, he dipped down and unsheathed his right bayonet, striking the long blade across one of the outer tentacles, more intent on redirecting his partner. He felt an unusually strong impact ring up its edge, giving him a brief shock; those things were tough? As Typheus flew up and back to keep his distance, Fiddlesticks, having caught to flash of his blade, immediately jumped sideways to avoid it, killing an unfortunate amount of her momentum. She resumed her movement in a strafe and opened fire on the tentacles, shattering the silence with the rattle and bangs of heavy artillery. Pings rang out as bullets that missed hit Twilight's barrier. She didn't really care if she was doing damage or not; this was fun! Typheus hovered away from her, quickly reassessing the scene. Human, wolf, horse, human, alien, human, human - those things are from a human?! What IS that?!
  5. ((Sorry for the long wait; a train of real life things came up and I ended up neglecting the forums. I hope no one was waiting on me.)) Tempest made a small smile. "Volcanic Ashes. That's a name I can remember." He watched the elder dragon work out his frustration on a tree, then sigh and leave. Tempest gave him a wave with his tail, not keen on taking up any more of the dragon's time. He must have had a long and arduous life, to be so temperamental, he thought to himself. "We better be done 'ere," Fang grumbled under his breath. Tempest huffed, looking back at the Tri-Horn. "You need to learn a speck of diplomacy," he scolded him, "having an entire Ancient on our side is a huge asset!" "Asset? You see 'im light up that tree?" "Exactly! And remember, I do the talking. So what you think doesn't matter." Tempest pursed his dragon maw and strutted out in front of Fang, back to leading the way through the fog. Fang hacked out an insult behind his back before following. "What was that?" "Somethin' in mah throat," Fang muttered. Tempest just aimed his scowl straight ahead, ignoring the obvious mockery in his companion's tone. It would be worthwhile to report the existence of this Ancient to Craul once they returned with the goods. Chances were good he was going to be sent back to try and form ties between him and the tribe, but it was nothing he hadn't tackled before... well, excepting the fact that Volcanic Ashes was huge, aged, and had a temper. He hadn't tackled all three at once before. Just consider it a new experience, he told himself. You're the one to make bargains; you don't have to worry about any fights that come from them; just what Craul might do. Now focus on finding that pygmy! You're already going to be late. With both dragons being self-absorbed, neither of them gave much thought to the soft thud farther out in the fog, thinking it was just some deer running away or a bough from the tree Volcanic Ashes torched falling to the ground.
  6. Tellin was pretty upset about what just happened, and confused too. He still believed that the wet thing was still around, but he hadn't felt or noticed anything in a little bit... maybe it left? It must have left. He was certain he poked something it had, even if it did poke him back. Still a bit discombobulated from the interaction, Tellin oozed slowly and cautiously to his right side, uncertain of where to go now. He still wanted to eat a lot, but more importantly, he wanted to find a new place to go where the wet thing might not find him. So he continued listing left, pushing past organics and looking for something new to consume, being careful not to stretch out his poked side too much. He was definitely being more cautious, now.
  7. Eight tenths carbon? Both mechs looked at each other and Typheus scanned his partner. "I doubt we're the golden ratio," she said. He didn't deny it. Kelsier then mentioned that besides going back to Luthadel for the supplement, a "coinshot boy" might have some steel for him. Coinshot? The word was unfamiliar to them, though Fiddlesticks likened the word to "scattershot", which was a rather simplistic term describing how her turrets worked. Dynarst, however, seemed to know exactly what Kelsier was talking about. A skaa boy? So someone who looks like him, Typheus guessed. He tried to remember seeing another ash-dusted human at the meeting, but ended up grumbling to himself about how stupidly oblivious he was at the time. Fiddlesticks wasn't in a much better spot, her eye dimming in thought as she tried to recall all of the faces she saw at the meeting. Human, horse, human, winged human, human, human.... curse it all, why was everyone human? She could tell the difference between two beat-up Fighter models of the same type and color, but not humans! Typheus had better luck. His eye brightened when he recalled a tan face highlighted by dusty brown hair of similar color to whatever was on the boy's shoulders. He had lost his touch with remembering details, but he had a face! "I think I know who you're talking about," he spoke up, "but I don't know his name; I wasn't engaged in the meeting. I don't know where he went, either," he added. "At least you know something..." Fiddlesticks mumbled. He gave her another absent-minded pat. "Stop that..." "The two of us are able to cover a lot of ground," Typheus said, ignoring her, "but I don't know where to start... He was at the meeting, so he couldn't have gone too far." "If he's still in the castle, we should search around it first before going inside. That way we close in on him," Fiddlesticks suggested. "The only way he could get out is by jumping through a window, and we'd certainly hear that. We could start at the entrance... and since you can fly, you can circle the place. The humans are small enough to fit through doors I can't. Dynarst can go left and Kelsier can go right. I remember where the kitchen is, so I'll go there first." Typheus gave her a surprised look for suddenly thinking so tactfully. Her threads must have swung back around again; it would be nice if they stayed this way! "What if he's out of the castle by now?" he asked. She just shrugged. "Then we'll run circles out from the castle." "Seems like a plan enough to me." ((EDIT: a small reaction to the Gateway posts on pages 21 and 22 while I wait.)) Before anyone could act on the idea or deliberate more, a flurry of chaotic noises erupted to the right of the group, farther out in the distance. Both mechs turned to see that the Gateway, just visible at this range, had the silhouettes of beings - mostly humans, again - dropping into it. Then there was a suddenly an explosion and the blue-to-purple sky was abruptly lit up with orange flame. That held their attention. Typheus folded his arms, spectating the inferno. Fiddlesticks watched with keen interest, but refrained from running into the chaos and adding to it. "Do you think we should... 'help'?" "No. Let's just watch for a bit."
  8. Fiddlesticks huffed, the semblance of an annoyed smirk visible in her eye. "A barrier could take me at charge. I doubt you would have done anything," she muttered. Typheus calmed down enough to give her a stroke on the shoulder. "Everything has a strength and a weakness," he said, "though I didn't expect to find Jowan's this early." He smothered the rest of his laughs, closing his and shaking his head. "Who would've thought it was that though?" Fiddlesticks' ear twitched. "Katie did mention gender confusion among humans. And we know they're lax about it," she said scornfully. He just rumbled in response, not liking the reminder. Although now that he was thinking about it - and by extension, thinking about how powerful the metal magic could be against him and Fiddlesticks - he decided he might as well clarify for the two humans still here to prevent future offense: "The planet we're from, Zirhon, has very strict rules, never mind cultural standards." Uncertain if he should go into detail, he simply added, "and it doesn't help I have a justice complex." "Only after I pointed it out," Fiddlesticks teased. "Only because I had to point out that you're a reckless idiot," he returned. She smacked him on the arm, which he playfully mirrored. She just huffed again, a sign he took as restlessness from the lack of fighting; and that posed an interesting opportunity. "How exactly do you prepare metal?" he asked Kelsier. "Us and Dynarst could find you more steel, and you could spar with her." He gestured toward Fiddlesticks, whose eye lit up at the idea. "She doesn't do well for long without a good fight." "You're sure I won't kill him on accident?" she asked. "It'll be fine." He turned to the man Dynarst had called Sir Survivor to read his reaction to the offer, but was distracted by the fact that he was removing his wet shirt. The mech shifted uncomfortably, and Fiddlesticks quickly averted her gaze with an indistinct grumble. "I uh, thought that was rude..." His comment withered away when the man suddenly froze. Had he misspoken? Actually, no, as it turned out. Instead Kelsier abruptly dropped the shirt to pull out something yellowed and raggedy, threatening to catch on the fabric. Exceedingly careful, as if it contained a photosensitive jewel, he unfolded it and lay it down on the grass, first examining it before going back to his shirt. Dynarst and Fiddlesticks may had been on bad angles to see it, but at his full height Typheus could tell that it had some sort of pattern traced on it. It looked like a picture, but it wasn't digital. Some sort of keepsake? He regretted that he couldn't offer any help on drying out the picture; the only hot things he or his partner had would surely incinerate it and all of the burnt grass around them. It was obviously precious to Kelsier and likely very private, so he pretended that he didn't acknowledge it, simply letting his expression go blank. Fiddlesticks, since she was still looking away, didn't notice the picture at all.
  9. Fiddlesticks didn't receive an outright answer. Instead she witnessed Jowan apparently having some sort of segfault, as if he too were a machine and two threads suddenly crossed. Unlike when her threads randomly terminated during high stress, however, he simply seemed to switch from one emotion to the next. One minute he was whispering like a bewitched schoolgirl, and the next he was suddenly disgusted and turning away, backing off, shooting a glare at the oldest man of them. Duke's lighthearted expression quickly changed as he saw it too. Neither mech had processed that Kelsier had pulled another magic trick. They didn't know what the heck was going on. Only that Duke had suddenly pulled Jowan in close like two women trying to comfort each other and that he abruptly turned and challenged Kelsier. There was no proper way to react to that. All Typheus processed is that suddenly they were girls and Duke tried to be a man again. He couldn't help the fact that his society had very strict gender roles and that he followed the stereotypes to the letter. He couldn't help but laugh really, really loud. Fiddlesticks jumped out of her sealant as laughter boomed from his speaker, his normally low-toned, reserved voice roaring out over the clearing and no doubt reaching the castle. He couldn't even hide it, just slapping his hands to his face, trying to contain it, but it didn't work. She wanted to laugh with him, but amusement was only betrayed in her eye, and she locked up with tension exponentially winding up. Duke wasn't going to like this.... so maybe there will be another fight? Alas, it didn't look like that would be the case, as the man turned and left the situation, leaving Jowan in shock and the others speechless. He seemed genuinely upset that Kelsier had somehow manipulated Jowan. Kelsier, on the other hand, wasn't as deeply affected, his smile simply flattening into a thin line. Admittedly the mech was disappointed that the sudden spike in tension resulted in nothing, even with her partner vainly trying to calm himself, and she was tempted to goad on the older man by asking if he was going to just ignore that. She cast another look at Duke's retreating form, scrutinizing who she first learned was just a jester with some dramatic flair. "What was that all about?" Typheus tried to gasp out an explanation, but all that came out was "Bras-hahAHAHAHAHH!" ((EDIT: I'm editing this because I pushed Typheus to react in a way he normally wouldn't so I wouldn't bother anyone. I bothered people anyway, so I'm choosing the accuracy route and writing what actually would have happened. From now on, I'm not going to avoid bothering people and will just write what's accurate to my characters so I actually enjoy them.)) ((This won't affect the following posts, so don't bother editing anything.))
  10. Typheus listened to the newcomer's - Kelsier's - explanation with interest. He clearly hadn't iron-pulled to the pond, which was the only type of allomancy Elise had told him about, because he wouldn't have shot up into the air like that. The other types were interesting, to say the least... He had a passing wonder if the emotion types - brass and zinc - would have any effect on him or Fiddlesticks. That would be useful in the future; at least, until the man figures out how to make one of them angry. He'd been unreasonably angry once. He didn't want to be steeped in so much negativity again. Gryn knows how Fiddlesticks feels then, considering how often she's been mad for no good reason. The Pusher model jerked a little bit when the trio noticed them, but actually hesitated on her own without Typheus sticking his claws into her. He gave her a puzzled look, still uncertain of why she came here in the first place or how she knew of the fight. While Duke waved at Dynarst and said.... "hufh"?, the Superiority model quickly opened his emitters and stole a peek into his partner's mind. What are you doing? she immediately asked through the console. Outwardly she only glanced at him, ears perking a little bit. He blinked, not expecting her to be so acutely aware of him. I'm trying to figure out why you're so sullen, he said vaguely. He searched her mind, and found that it was unusually still. Usually threads were going off like fireworks in there. Besides the argument? she pointed out. I withdraw my case. What a formal way to say you're sorry, she joked; a few threads lit up, but her levity quickly disappeared. You don't have too... Why not? I was rude. I was just thinking... about what you said about us not needing to be here. So I was going to the Gateway to see if I could figure out how it works. Typheus didn't say anything, but he did try really hard to contain his amusement. Unfortunately it didn't really work. Oh, shut up! You're a novice and it's alien tech! he laughed. Doesn't mean I can't dream! And the fire caught your attention? ...Yes. Typheus looked at her for a moment, then closed his emitters, severing the connection. He looked back at the three men, the previous flames that they had been standing in now reduced to smoldering ash. Duke had struck up conversation with Dynarst, with Jowan standing beside him, rubbing the same arm that was wounded during the mission. Kelsier was sopping wet, but didn't seem bothered. None of them were wary of the mechs; even when Fiddlesticks attacked Duke, the most he did was pass out, and Dynarst referred to Typheus as a friend, earning him a look of surprise and gratitude from the machine. It wasn't like they weren't welcome here... "How about this," Typheus began, catching the Pusher model's attention again, "clearly we messed up with the mission. I'll take the blame for that. I should have tried harder to convince you it was the wrong planet." Fiddlesticks mumbled something, but he continued, "But we have proved that these people do go onto other worlds, and do try to amend them. There are a finite number of us here, and it's desirable to take missions in familiar places. So what if I talk to Twilight about our situation, clear up some things, and we can do a mission for us? To try and find Cyrii? Would you be okay with that?" Fiddlesticks perked up at her pilot's name, but the brightness of her eye kept fluctuating, reflecting internal conflict. For several long moments, he thought she wouldn't answer, or try to find an excuse to do everything herself. Then, she finally said quietly, "I would like that... but what about the crystal?" He slowly blinked in relief, his internal worries calming down. "Who needs it? We have three men who can raise walls that can stop you, use metal for magic, and start fires. I haven't met everyone here but it can't be that much different, can it?" "Can they take cosmic fire?" He laughed. "Guess we'll see about that." He finally relaxed his posture for the first time since coming through the Gateway, and let Fiddlesticks go. Atypically for her, she lingered for a bit, looking around uncertainly before she saw Duke waving them over. She kept her feet planted on the ground, suspecting another maze; Typheus didn't even think of that and casually walked over, glancing back once to see if Dynarst or his partner were following. So, a little bit reassured, she followed, before coming to a hesitant stop beside him in front of Duke. "I'd be happy to take a tour if you're willing to provide it," Typheus responded to Duke's offer. "I didn't think there would be time with the missions going on." He then took a moment to introduce himself to Kelsier, "Typheus." He then looked at Fiddlesticks for her input, but there was just a long pause where she just stared at Duke, ears twitching. Then she said, out of the blue, "I thought you were going to crush me with that maze." Typheus shot her a sharp look and smacked her arm. She beeped and pulled back. "It's a genuine concern!" He stared judgmentally. "Okay fine! I stabbed you because it was fun, cape guy," she admitted, breaking eye contact, her voice lowering to a mumble. "Duke," Typheus introduced for him. "What? He's a duke?" "No, just Duke." He gestured to the man beside him, "Jowan," then next to him, "Dynarst," then over one more, "Kelsier." "Fiddlesticks," she added for herself. Interested in quickly forgetting her failed assault so she didn't have to explain to the others that she did stab Duke, she asked the trio, "Why did you guys stop fighting? We were just watching."
  11. Cranked out an official tank critter! Kazooie will remain as an NPC at base, running around doing quest things. Name: It doesn't begin with one, but Mika suggested Hop which sounds adorable, so let's do that Origin: Original Character Species: A dreamworld/spectral creature call a Voidskipper. Technically it has no gender but I'll slap a pronoun onto her Appearance: Concept art. She's a quadruped with arms and reflective chitin, and is about 8 feet tall when standing straight. The eye is like a kaleidescope of stars. Abilities: Hop absorbs energy - typically kinetic, thermal, electrical, light, and radioactive energy - that she makes contact with and stores it in the orange orbs on her body. These orbs dull to black when depleted and glow brightly when full. The stronger the energy and/or more detrimental it is to a living thing, the more it energizes Hop. This energy is used exclusively for abilities. Blink: Hop, as the name implies, can jump into a dimensional "blankspace" and hop back out in a different location, appearing as a teleport. She cannot reside within the blankspace for 25 seconds - with full reserves - before becoming sickly, and would expire after a minute. Stasis Field: Hop projects out her energy-absorbing ability, diluting it yet also freezing surfaces within the field. It only affects surfaces; internal functions like organs or mechanisms remain unaffected. The freezing affects both movement and temperature: objects in the field lose any external heat, momentum, electrical, light, or radioactivity while in the field, cannot move, and are cold. This includes Hop herself. This does not snuff out anything that actively emits any of those energies. When the field is down everything is normalized and mobility is restored. Due to the dilution effect of the absorption, the temperature cannot be lowered below 10F. Telekinesis: Hop can remotely manipulate objects. She can only manipulate objects she can "grab", which is linked to her ability to see. If the target is out of sight or moving too fast and therefore obscured, she cannot grab it. Pulse: Hop empties all of her reserves at once in a localized "boom". The energy is expelled haphazardly into all five forms of energy that the Voidskipper consumes. This can be disastrous or benign depending on the surroundings and is done only as a last resort, as without any energy, Hop cannot use any of her abilities that use energy as fuel. Reception: This is a passive ability that doesn't require energy to use. Hop is receptive to the mental imagery of neighboring entities, and can skillfully draw whatever she pictures in her or others' minds. She can send images back as well, including glyphs for writing. However she cannot talk, send thoughts or feelings, or read minds. The target must also have brain waves or a similar energy for the Voidskipper to pick up on; so she can see into a spirit's mind if it's willing, but she can't see into an AI's or an undead's mind (provided the undead isn't reanimated with something like a soul). Other Uses: Hop can use its energy to perform minor tasks as well, such as setting a fire, emitting electricity or light, or making the ground shake. She must have physical contact with the object she is affecting; gases don't count unless they are dense enough to be visible, like smoke. The Voidskipper can also emit radioactive energy, but because she absorbs radiation she'll only end up using her reserves to feed herself (she can't use this as a feedback loop to eternally feed either). Link to wiki: Link. Extra: Voidskippers don't need to do anything other than consume radiation. Alpha and Beta rays are sufficient to keep them alive, while Gamma rays stimulate growth, self-regeneration, and empower their abilities, giving them a luminescent glow. Starved Voidskippers lose their luster and become empty husks before expiring into statuesque forms, which can perfectly retain their details for many years. Voidskippers feed only on radiation, not energy as a whole. Other forms of energy are stored for abilities. Because radiation is also energy, they can feed and reenergize with it at the same time. Voidskippers can take inanimate objects with them during a blink, but can't take a living thing as it'll die instantly. The color for projected writing will be #6d00f9. Voidskippers have an origin legend that they are personified determination. Their primary purpose is to explore the universe cleaning up irradiated places that aren't actively being added to. Hop loves tiny fuzzy things, especially insects; and "tiny" just means anything smaller than her. Several edits later: I think I finally have this to my liking now...
  12. It's Just Stress, Right? Typheus had just stared numbly at Yusei and the woman that had come over to help. She seemed to know what she was doing, and so did Yusei. Everything was actually fine, somehow. That was good, at least... He stood up and walked away. Fiddlesticks' eye followed him, processing the unexpected move. No words? No sigh of relief? She glanced back at Yusei and his helper, then stood up to pursue him. "Typheus!" The Superiority model stopped two dozen feet away from the clearing's perimeter, not turning around. She ran up to him to study his expression. He looked distant, eye lights dimmed and not focused on her. "What is it?" It took him a second to finally look at her, and he shrugged uncomfortably. "What the Alkinest are we doing here?" "What do you mean? You said these people were saving the gigaverse or something." "No, why are we still here?" he emphasized. Fiddlesticks' eye flickered. "I tried to leave," she pointed out, "All I ended up doing was befriending a guy with spikes in his face who tried to murder pointy-hair over there... and he's still my friend, by the way." "That's exactly it!" Typheus said sharply, and she flinched back. "Barely twenty minutes on this planet and you stab someone, we go to a world where you warm up to an Inquisitor, and we come back and I nearly buried our escort alive!" "Not on purpose! I was justified! And it was a five minute conversation!" Fiddlesticks shot back. "That's not the point!" he snapped a little too loudly; his anger broke briefly as he glanced back at the clearing, seeing if anyone was watching them. He lowered his voice, "We're a danger to these people, same way as we were on Earth, and you remember what I said about that." Fiddlesticks flushed out her air intake in annoyance. "We also couldn't leave Earth until the mission was completed." "The mission," the Superiority model scowled, "a bunch of crap for a stupid crystal. Like that matters now." Fiddlesticks' gaze hardened and she hit his arm with a loud clang, making him jump. "Watch it!" "I don't give a crap that you think it's stupid! You have your damn pilot! What about mine?!" she cried angrily. "She's rotting in some IR cell somewhere being tortured or drugged up or something and I can do nothing about it because I'm stuck on this stupid rock with you!" "What if the IR doesn't take prisoners?!" he defended himself, even though he felt a pang of guilt. "I don't care!" she screeched, "A body is a body! And I don't care if we have to level this entire place just so I can see her corpse again!" "That's selfish and irresponsible!" "Being selfish and irresponsible is how we're not on a redemption line, Typheus! It's how we're not hoverpotties and cabinet underlighting and fancy glasses now! It's how we're not part of some Code Green's bed while he toys with his frickin' dokura!" "That's-!...Shame on you! Code Greens aren't like that!" "Is my view shameful or the Empire shameful, Mr. I-Let-Soldiers-Break-The-Rules-And-Escape-Death-Row?!" "It wasn't me, it was my pilot! Who is a Code Green!" "Not anymore!" "Thanks to you!" "I was within my right! It's his own fault for being stupid!" Typheus had it and swung his arm so hard the bang resounded through the clearing and Fiddlesticks crumpled to the ground. She scrambled back up on her feet indignantly, hunched aggressively, but keeping her turrets down. He struggled to keep his engine cool, loudly circulating air. "You are not allowed to play god with other peoples' lives," he growled at her, "You ruined his." "No one else seems to give a crap about mine," she snarled. "You're not supposed to care about yourself!" "No one else deserves my care!" "It's not their privilege, it's their right!" She hissed at him obstinately, slicing at the air in front of him while he glared in challenge. Yet, she didn't care to pick a fight. She just spat out "Collectivist!" in the most condescending tone she could muster, turned on her heel, and stomped off toward the horizon. Typheus' eye flickered rapidly as he processed the word. The human word for... no, he wasn't that. The Empire wasn't that, right? It wasn't hiding behind a facade of helping people, it was actually helping. People had a right to be helped by others..... right? You can't help that she was hurt by what you said, he tried to tell himself, but he was already rewinding through the argument and wilting at his feeble position. All they did was spit lies at each other. Mean lies. He implied it didn't matter if they completed the Earth mission and Fiddlesticks found her pilot again. She lives because of her pilot, exclusively for her pilot. He believed that if they found her corpse, the Pusher model would just lie down beside it and die there. Then he called her selfish for wanting her pilot back despite knowing that. Just to make matters worse, he took her blanket statement personally because his own pilot was in the same group she attacked, and he never seized the opportunity to say he cared about her, at least. What was wrong with him? Why was he behaving like those screechy numbskulls on human stream services? He was better than this. Typheus's angry denial shriveled up into self-loathing, and he remained in a sullen slouch just outside the clearing, deaf to everything taking place there. This certainly wasn't the first time this had happened to him, but that didn't mean he knew how to recover, and that reminder just piled on to the heap of bitterness he was feeling. For the zillionth time he wished he had just kept his speaker dead back then and let his pilot do all of the work. It would have made things easier. How can his past self be so stupid? How is he still being so stupid? It took his threads a few minutes to wander back to what started the argument: they shouldn't be here. Not even a day has passed on his mechanical clock and two lives had been threatened. He felt awkward around the others and could hardly believe their line of work, and it wasn't just because they were all organisms; Circuitraider was a machine too, and he was intimidated by her. She was huge and could also hack; he didn't know what he was dealing with. For all he knew she was staked out somewhere reading his processes right now. Everyone else seemed nice at least, but how long would that last? Until Fiddlesticks arbitrarily picks another victim? Until he misteleports again and nearly crushes someone? What about anything else that hasn't happened yet, like him flying into the castle and destroying someone's room, or things getting smashed in the halls, or them being unreliable with an anchor, or Fiddlesticks figuring out that there's a heat source in the kitchen and she burns the whole place down? It's a stone castle, but somehow she would burn it down. All of Typheus' worries were minuscule, but he worried nonetheless. Even if he buried it under layers of confidence and a false sense of security it would rear its ugly face again. It just felt like he couldn't do anything right... ----------------------------------------- Yeah, Questgiver! Kazooie nodded eagerly; there is a quest! Hah! See, every place has a quest available - except for that weird slime world - and this one sounded simple enough. Although she wasn't confident in this man's sense of distance. "Round the planet"? She needed to walk all the way around this thing? She looked around at the slimes, who have pretty much escaped the scene by now, uncertain if she should try and round them up right now or wait until a corral was built. "Sounds fun, but I think I'll just follow you there. Those things don't hurt anything, they just make you trip," she said nonchalantly. She did a double-take of the scenery, noticing how much detail there was in everything. It almost made her eyes hurt. It certainly wasn't home, but the man said she could stay here; did that mean she couldn't go back? At least there won't be a witch problem for a while, she reminded herself with a chuckle. I could stay for a little bit. She looked up at a sudden bout of shouting further away from the clearing: those metal machines that were making noise earlier were fighting. As long as I can tolerate it, anyway.
  13. It certainly didn't read that way to me. I can understand mentioning the controls for picking options on the page (using W/S to navigate menus) - that's the first thing that confused me - but then why not just make them point-and-click options if there are so little? TJ knows how to do that. I can also understand presenting different options for different dragons you can choose to hang out with, but again, the execution made it look like those wouldn't be the only important choices in the game, and it certainly didn't imply "You might do this for the rest of the week because of <x> reason", which hugely diminishes the importance of the other "choices" you can make, so why have them at all? Perhaps the game had more choices in development that were nixed because of this reasoning, and that's why there are so few in the first place, but I still question the point of them. What I'm trying to say is, if I were to develop a visual novel, I would start the game off with some narration about the main character, then go through the first day as normal, then present the after-school classes options as a more obvious "pick your plotline" situation". Again, saying something like "Your schedule is too tight to look at more than one class", or maybe "All of these classes run at the same times and you want to take one fully" would have been a good indicator. Then the novel would just play. I also wouldn't have keyboard controls (thus needing to mention the controls on the game's page) for the choices; when the choice comes up, I would just say "Pick a way to spend your week" or however much time the plotline may run for. That would be a good way to avoid implications that the game will have important choices throughout, instead of just one choice that you then have to run with and some frivolous dialogue pocketed here in there. (I don't know what it is psychologically that made me think keyboard controls meant more (important) choices, but that's what they did). I'm sorry if it looks like I'm attacking the event creators, by the way, I just realized it could read like that... but I think the critique is useful as a future reference.
  14. Interesting game... though I have some critique for it. I will note upfront that I'm not a romantic, but it's not the theme necessarily that bothered me. The first thing that annoyed me is once the game gives you a choice, it doesn't ever give you a choice again even though it's implied you can make more. So once you choose a route to go with a particular person, you're committed to it, and there's no prior implication of that when you're making the choice. I honestly thought I would be able to visit every character without having to restart the event over and over, but it turns out that once you choose, you choose. The end. Any other choices you have are just really minor effects that happen within the plotline you're then stuck with. So I was a bit disappointed by that. The other thing is I've noticed a consistent problem with the latest interactive events (excepting Snow Fight): because they're in second person, and because the game doesn't know you, it assumes a LOT about you; especially that you'll make stupid decisions for the sake of the plot. I understand that the game can't magically predict people, and coding any sort of preliminary test that customizes your options is rather pointless in a minigame like this, but I found myself quickly jaded and detached from the game when it assumed I had a personality 180 from my true one. Examples (may have spoilers): I chose the Cooking class option because I was comfortable with it and knew how to cook. The game assumes I'm a nincompoop and don't know squat about cooking. That wouldn't have been a problem, except, before the first class started it gave me two options: let your friend help or start on your own. I thought "let your friend help" meant the storyline for "yes, I don't know how to cook", and "start on your own" meant the writing presumed you do have a clue what you're doing; but no, it just makes you look even more like an idiot. I wasn't a fan of that. The game also didn't ever give me the option to say "I chose the cooking class because I like cooking"; no, it forces me to say "well I only joined because of you", which I would never say or do because that's stupid and I would obviously fail the class, which makes my original effort of hanging out with someone pointless. On top of that, there were several options to say, back down from a fight, or say two different things, but the options were extremely limiting and again, rather presumptuous. The only option I liked the outcome of after picking my storyline was the "confess it lightly" one; and even then, my preferred option would be "let the other person speak first". Finally, at the end of my plotline, I didn't even go to the dance; the most eventful things are my friend beat up some other guy and I got yelled at by the school doctor.... yay? So basically I was really disappointed with the writing. The art is good and the game seems to work flawlessly, and it starts out pretty well, but that's all I can give it. Since I am being rather harsh and this is a holiday though, I will say this: I think the impression the game gives would have flowed tons better had I not been playing "myself" in the story. Had the game began as "you're this nondescript heartsick dragon who just wants a friend" and gone from there, I wouldn't have been peeved by all of the game's necessary presumptions about me because they would have come across as facts about this other dragon. This very concept is what made me like the Dragon Matchmaking event (the one where you decorate your cave to attract another dragon); you're not playing yourself, you're playing as one of your dragons. Because the game is trying to make this a story about You the Scroll Owner though, it really killed everything. It's really unfortunate because previous events have proven how great these minigames can be. So there are my two cents about my experience. To end on a light note, the new dragon eggs look stunning and I can't wait to see how the adults turn out~ EDIT: I second Leidarendi in that once I caught on to the game not giving me a lot of other options, I just kept hitting "Enter" and watched everything happen in a... bit of an awkward way. Again it boils down to the game turning into a visual novel instead of being more like the CYOA it presented itself as.
  15. Hard to Follow Everything Kazooie watched as the meadow contained within the ring of stones escalated in activity. One man was punched and decided to take the opportunity to lay in the grass for a while. Summer-clothes lady got after his aggressor for it. The yellow-dress lady went to the punched man. There was a confused-looking angel, and a woman in a bird mask left the group. Then the shy grungy man noticed the man who was tackled by slimes and regaining his composure. They started talking, and were speaking English, but Kazooie could barely follow the conversation. The punched man began talking about the things with them. Then the scruffy man awkwardly bowed. Is something happening? Is this a quest? There was a sudden explosion and sod and earth behind one of the stone pillars and she looked over in alarm, feathers puffing up. She couldn't tell what was going on over there either, but there was a lot of flailing! The bird-masked woman paused to watch the display, but didn't seem alarmed. All it did was add to the confused thoughts whirling around in Kazooie's head. "Yusei? Yusei?!" The voice was abruptly loud and clear, but also didn't sound quite... alive. The flailing stopped and she noticed the sudden hole that was over there, and the two giant robots standing by it... wait, robots?! Okay, so this place definitely wasn't the Isle of Hags. This wasn't the environment for robots. The machines were especially weird, looking both intimidating and personable. She made eye contact with the brown one, who was looking over at everyone else in confusion. The bright lights of its eye kept fluctuating in intensity, and it whirled around when the white one behind it began to panic, causing Kazooie to shuffle uncertainly, looking at all of the humans for some direction on how to react. Her black-and-white perception of reality told her that everyone had to be either a hero, a citizen, or a villain, but her intuition was practically useless here. All she knew is that everyone she had set eyes on had done at least one bad thing. Maybe you just need to talk to them, she told herself, Remember how much you and Banjo talked to people? It was easy to figure things out back then. She allowed her attention to list, watching the many slimes in the region disperse farther and farther out into the seemingly-infinite fields. It removed some of the clutter within the stone circle, and the commotion with the robots had died down to the both of them - plus the bird-masked woman - staring down at something, but she still prickled with apprehension. Everything starts with a good quest, she decided. Let's see how many quests I have standing in front of me... She frowned in thought, deducting that there were at least four different things to do. The best way to tackle them all was to look for a leader. The man covered in ash and slime residue had the confident stature for it, but something about him made Kazooie shuffle back in distrust, so she looked to the next two people: the lady in the yellow dress and mechanical-arm man. Would it be rude for her to simply walk through the discussion between ashy-man and the other men? The red bird puffed up her chest to resurrect her pride. Maybe, but who cares? It's not like anyone is in a hurry. With a casual stride, she approached the metal-armed man first, ignoring the others. He seemed distant, like all of the bewilderment going on around him happened all the time. He was taller than she was used to humans being, so she stretched up a bit higher to try and make eye contact; the most she did was get a good look at the soul patch on his chin. "Hey prosthetic guy! I haven't a clue what's going on or how I got here, but do you have quests?" she asked, "That's usually how I end up traveling: quests."
  16. Feeding Aegis was easy; all I did was knock over the food back in a vain attempt to move it, and picking it back up was so difficult I gave up and just left it there. It makes my emails look more believable, anyway. Then I half-stumbled, half-crawled into the living space - I didn't have a couch - pulled the remote out a box sitting under the TV - I didn't have a console either... - and stared blankly at it for a solid minute. I can't say that looking at a remote covered in black and grey buttons was any better than trying to type on my laptop. Knowing some of the symbols helped, but those were foggy too despite me being able to recognize pictures, and I never learned how to use half this thing anyway. In fact, I used it so little I couldn't even remember where the receiver button was. I remembered that the TV had side buttons as well, so I shifted over to it, but lucky me it's a sequence of those not-buttons that are seamless with the panel, so the only things designating them were some dark printed symbols that I of course couldn't read. Great. I sat back and stared that the TV, envisioning in my head, "So we have some breaking news about more cases of people Turning in the streets of Barcelona. A couple of these 'people' were caught and are being investigated, but one of them started flailing around and broke his cage and there was a very large struggle and then he ran away".... I don't really know how a reporter sounds. I barely watch TV. Just my luck, huh? I quickly decided that staring numbly at a black screen wouldn't help me at all. I hadn't eaten all morning and was starting to feel the effects of it, but pushed through it a little longer, frightened of what exactly this thing wanted to eat. I spent the time thinking and practicing moving a bit more, and no doubt frightened the carp out of my neighbors with all of the bumping and banging. It helped me learn a good way to stand by using a wall to support me, sitting up on my claws, and holding my primary arms out to the sides, but I was pretty embarrassed by it since I looked like a plucked chicken. Moving around... that just looked hilarious. Jumping was a lot more fun, but I quickly realized I had little room to do it since the slightest bob nearly sent me into the ceiling. The realization was quick: this thing could jump, and it liked jumping! Immediately I wanted to go outside and jump around a bunch, but this wasn't a retreat out in the wilderness; I was surrounded by buildings, busy streets and cars, all of which were full of people. It was tempting to just hide inside and suffer with breaking my pattern of eating regularly. Maybe if I wished hard enough I could make this thing a desert dweller and wouldn't need to eat for three months. God must have chuckled at the idea, because with each passing minute I kept growing hungrier and hungrier. In a weird way it reminded me of when I was a kid, not in that I wanted to eat more things, but that I always really wanted to eat specific things. I couldn't tell what this thing wanted though... not sugar, but sugar always sounds nice. Not really spicy. Not savory. Not bitter. Just like a.... clean flavor, but not water? As I deducted this weird creature's diet I became more perplexed, so I took the chance of eating something weird and awkwardly stood up to look into the refrigerator. Maybe something in there will give me some insight on what I want. After two cursory glances and some digging though, my appetite didn't change. I decided to switch to the cupboards, using the crystalline extensions on my primary arms to open them, but nothing jumped out at me in them, either. Except for the salt, but something about it didn't appeal to my stomach - assuming this thing even had a stomach - similar to the way someone with a paleo diet would scrunch up his nose and walk past cheap frozen dinners. I'm not sure how else to describe it. I guess this thing didn't like my brand of salt? What do you even want, anyway? I asked myself, letting my eyes glaze over the room. A sparkle of blue caught my eye and I spotted one of my decorations: a small copper wire tree decorated with polished stones, glued to a crystal base. I hobbled over to it, vainly trying to sink into the perception of the creature and figure out why it liked that thing. It wasn't just because it was pretty, that much I knew. It took several long seconds of me staring at that tree for me to realize that I wanted to nibble it. That sparked the idea I needed: rocks! This thing is a geovore! Holy crap that's so cool! I knew geovores were a thing! I thought excitedly. I immediately perked up, going back to my spice shelf where the salt was. I know where I have some minerals! I think this will work! Trying to coordinate my secondary arms, I worked a box under the shelf toward me, opening it up. The spices I hadn't unpacked; and there! Pure Himalayan salt! I only used it occasionally when I truly wanted it, because it's quite expensive compared to other- Before I knew it I was holding an empty bag. I stood in stunned silence for a second. What just happened? Did I lose time? I opened the bag and looked around in the tiny box that had held salt only a second earlier, jaws parting slightly, and I noticed the distinctive sharp taste of sodium inside. It wasn't unpleasantly strong though like when I was human. More mild and refreshing, like tangy mint. Dang, I didn't even have time to blink! There goes five bucks... All right, critter, I continued silently talking to myself, apparently you like salt. But that's all I had. I'll have to get more. The creature didn't care. It didn't even care if I had to leap over miles of traffic just to get to the nearest grocery outlet. Which sparked a pretty dumb idea... but it was better than rotting in my apartment and terrifying my cat, who I hadn't seen in a while. What did I have to lose anyway, right?
  17. Tellin was discombobulated and confused, falling limp for a few seconds after the intense flailing. He had no idea if he had hurt the painful wet thing or not, but he was thoroughly annoyed and a little scared. His pain took too long to go away, and when it did he was left with a throbbing sensation that wasn't much better. He didn't believe he had the strength to poke back at the painful wet thing even though it seemed to stop moving, so he remained still, hoping it would leave him alone.
  18. OH NOOOO! Yusei was clearly hurt bad; Typheus regretted asking him so many questions at once. He didn't have the strength for that. He involuntarily stepped forward to stop Yusei's fall, but the unknown construct caught him first, proving to him that it was like Sonic Chick in that is was Yusei's summon. At that reminder, he wanted to ask what had happened with Elise and why Yusei was out here, but he kept his speaker dead knowing the engineer was in a lot of pain. His eye narrowed and wings shifted at the description of an Inquisitor being the cause of it. That's a little conflicting though... why would the Inquisitor help him and Fiddlesticks, yet attack Yusei? Did they favor machines? Yusei weakly held up a device splotched with red - his wound - that reminded Typheus of an Earth smartphone. Unable to properly explain what it was for, he propped himself up then mumbled some things... home? Contact? He then looked down at the metal plate on his arm and moved something on it, and just as Sonic Chick had, the blue construct pixelated and dissolved into nothing. Typheus's claws flashed over to Fiddlesticks as she let out a surprised beep and jolted back at the sight, nearly letting Yusei fall. "What the crap?!" "It's okay!" he quickly explained, "He summons things." She didn't directly respond, looking at him anxiously, then humming in response to Yusei grabbing one of her ears. Typheus looked at the gesture in puzzlement, before moving his left hand to support Yusei while keeping his right on his partner. Fiddlesticks shifted uncomfortably. "Why are you guys tou-" ... .. . A sudden instability! Fiddlesticks whistled in surprise and ran in place comically, trying to find firm ground and her threads panicking. ROLY THINGS! ROLY THINGS EVERYWHERE! There was an explosion of earth and sod behind her and the rolling things blew away, giving her a chance to stand properly, turrets held out for balance. She stood for a couple of seconds to shut her vents and blast shield against the debris as the thing struggled in the dirt, then moved away from it, forward into- Bonk! She opened her blast shield and saw she had walked into a rock. She felt searing embarrassment, and tried to bury it with an indignant huff, roughly shaking the dirt off her and the feeling with it. She started at a giggle near her feet and glared down at it. A... green... blob? With a glowing face...? The thing jovially bounced past her with complete disregard to what she was. She looked up, and saw another that was pink... and another.... and another.... wait, this was the Gateway... "Yusei?" Typheus's distinct basal tones floated out behind her, and she turned to see him standing in a hole almost as deep as him, soil scattered everywhere, his white hull smothered in dirt and bits of rock. She whistled and gave him a scan, picking up more muck than metal. "Did you hit the ground at high speed and I missed it?" she asked. He stared at her in worry. "I-I don't know. It was all dark. I lost Yusei!" He spun around, searching at his feet. "Yusei?!" "He used to be right here," Fiddlesticks said lamely, while also remembering that she wasn't standing before, and it didn't make sense that Typheus was in a hole. Something was off with this teleport, something different than when she was separated from the group... She looked around the Gateway, finding that they had landed just outside of it and many faces - a few she recognized, most she didn't - looking at them. There was also an unusual amount of the colorful roly things she had almost crushed on landing, jumping all over the place and laughing like it was a party. In fact, it looked like their teleport practically crashed a party. What the heck? Were they missing something? "Yusei!" Typheus's voice hit a harsh pitch. She whirled around and saw him on his knees, sweeping loads of dirt away. In a brief second he noticed she wasn't helping and glared up at her, prompting her to get down and help move the dirt with a sweep of her turrets. Yet two seconds later he was shouting "WAIT!!" "What?!" she snapped at him, pausing to shake off some stray earth that hadn't fallen off her. He ignored her and took out his retrieval arms, brushing clods of soil off of a pale shape. She stared down at it, confusion growing into concern. It was Yusei underneath all of the dirt. He wasn't moving. "Cryion's gas!" Typheus swore, "crap crap crap crap-! YUSEI!" He shook the engineer like it would somehow help. "Come on.... how do humans... I can't remember...!" He looked up at Fiddlesticks helplessly. This has never happened by accident before. This isn't happening. She just stared back. "...Did we just kill someone?"
  19. We Found Each Other Quickly It doesn't take long for a two-ton machine to barrel through alleys toward conflict. The slowest part was picking up speed; once Fidds had it she just threw herself over obstacles, drifted corners, and jumped over walls, repeatedly dinging things up on the way. None of them screamed though so it was okay, right? Typheus cringed every time she hit something. She was going too fast to notice - or care - what they were, he knew. That's why he bothered letting her come here though, was for a good fight and provide incentive to help the X-Dreamers; and the Pusher model seemed to have already forgotten the disappoint of realizing this wasn't Zirhon. She sure can be daft, can't she? The irony is she can have strokes of brilliance, they're just very selective. She must have firmware corruption somewhere... but she won't let him dive into her mind that deep. He flicked his eye back up ahead to avoid flying into any buildings. Maybe once she's calmed down, he thought, without a shred of hope of it ever happening. Fiddlesticks twisted to kill her speed when she burst out onto a wider street. She dug in her claws and left long scratches behind on the paving, kicking up loose sand and ash in the cracks. She had almost hit the home on the other side of the street before she had broken enough speed to move again. The scene! All she caught from it in two seconds was that there was a shorter person standing in front of a big one, which was closer to her size. Typheus slowed down above the scene, caught by surprise. She automatically charged forward. Five steps in she spotted the bright yellow streaks on the small one's head. "Fidds!!" She belly-flopped on the ground to kill her speed seconds before Typheus could intercept her. The Superiority model dashed past her but gracefully twisted it into a landing, skidding out in front of the metal humanoid in preparation of an attack. He stood there for a minute, meeting its red gaze. This... wasn't the attacker. Yusei was behind it, not in front of it, and it hadn't turned around. He heard a nasty hiss from Fiddlesticks as she picked herself up to challenge it. "Fidds wait! It's Yusei's!" he shouted. The hiss died in the mech's speaker. "What's Yusei's? The drone?!" "It's not attacking him," Typheus reasoned. Fiddlesticks grumbled something in Xinschi. "Where's his foe?" Typheus darted some glances around him, a bit concerned about the shorter construct in front of him but also remembering that Yusei could somehow summon things. He didn't see anyone around... He looked back at the machine, still posed defensively but with his blades sheathed. Maybe he should hack it first? He heard the distinctive purr-growl of a Xinschi-uual, coming from Fiddlesticks. He circled around the machine and spotted her going down on all fours, crawling toward Yusei. With eye contact broken, the unknown machine immediately spun around and knelt to catch the engineer as he stumbled into it. "Ty... he's hurt." He didn't really need his partner to point it out to him. Yusei was favoring the side away from him, face puckered from withheld pain. Alarm bells went off in the mech's head, and he looked around more thoroughly, but still didn't see anyone else around. Fiddlesticks pushed her head into his hurt side, giving him a bit more support. It was the least she could do since she couldn't beat up his assailant, but it still didn't feel like proper payment for repairing her earlier. "What happened?" Typheus asked, finally approaching the engineer, "We heard noises, but-" he paused to look at the blue machine again, "-where did it go? What did it look like?"
  20. Hey, People! There was a commotion outside. Kazooie was a little annoyed by it - well, actually, "little" is an understatement - but kept figuring it was the slimes until the noises began to form coherent patterns. Voices? The Breegull paused to listen a while longer, but couldn't understand much through the thick, durable walls of the backpack. So she poked her head out, nosing the flap up with her beak. The first thing she noticed was how green it was! Greener than back at Spiral Mountain. It, plus the long grass and the many flowers dotting it, reminded her of Click Clock Wood in the summertime. The air was fresh and clean, but the light was just a tad dim, like the sun hadn't fully risen yet. Pushing the flap up further to see the horizon, there was indeed a predawn sky thinly veiling the stars. She raised her head out of the bag to look around better. She was in a meadow, someplace she didn't recognize, within a circle of stone pillars. The slimes were still there, obviously, bouncing around like the careless blobs of jelly they were. She was surprised though to see a woman just a few yards away from her, with long yellow clothes and brown hair, looking only a little concerned. Beside her on the ground was another person swathed in a cloak, getting tackled by some playful slimes. It was a weird sight to anybody, but Kazooie's sense of reality made her pretty accustomed to it. With a quick sweep of her head to loop one backpack strap around her neck, she popped out of the pack and stood up to the fullness of her height, stretching out. She then looked around to make sure no slimes were going to jump into her. Oh! There were more people behind her! They were standing away from the first group and had a dusting of ash on them, which clashed with the clean, vibrant scenery of the meadow. They were all human, like the woman, but Kazooie didn't recognize any of them. However, in a few seconds her intuition kicked in and she learned a couple of things: this was a ragtag group of friends! The one man was the oldest with modern clothing and had a metal arm, but looked a lot younger than the more timid one beside him. That man looked older from how worn out he was, hunched a bit and looking around with caution. No metal arm on him. There was a young boy sitting on the ground in shock, feeling the long grass like he didn't know what it was, and the fourth person was a woman, but dressed much differently from the first, with tighter, warmer-weather clothes, shorter hair, and a stern expression. She too was on the ground, but her exhausted look softened as a small puppy dashed over the grasses to meet her. A friend, or a pet? Kazooie's eyes fell on the last girl. Holy flying cabbage, that was pink! She had never seen a pink-haired human before. It was complimented by a dress as red as her own feathers. Judging from the confusion on her face, she didn't belong to either group of humans; although the man getting "attacked" by slimes looked a bit similar to the one man and the boy in the other group. Something about the grungy clothing. She wasn't used to being around so many humans, especially since none of them had the green skin of a witch - which was actually a relief. Yet they all seemed nice enough, like the people who always gave her and Banjo quests to do! So she casually addressed all of them as though this was any ol' day: "Hey, is this someplace on the Isle o' Hags? This is the second time I've been teleported and it's getting annoying," she cawed. A slime bumped into her, and she nudged it away from her, giving it a scolding look before adjusting the strap around her neck with her beak.
  21. Distracted yet Again The two would originally be bickering by now. They were like two trains trying to outpace each other; one tidbit of conversation would spiral off into mild debate and the occasional splash of reality. Instead though, the two tall mechanisms walked down the street in silence, the architecture of the imposing buildings lining it echoing each whir of movement and every time their claws scratched up the paving stones. Fiddlesticks didn't care for silence. It was nice, but it forced her to entertain herself, and her head always sounded too loud to her. Plus she hasn't had the best experience with trying to work by herself. Typheus, on the other hand, was very accustomed to his head. A little too much. He couldn't help but sink into his thoughts and let his minor regret about abandoning Yusei turn into a gut-twisting - or rather, engine-pounding - worry. Fiddlesticks' engine though was always pounding out of built-in anxiety. So when a soft clang came from the distance, quiet enough to be dismissed, she perked up right away, swinging around and slamming her tail into her partner. "Fidds! Watch it!" "What's that?" "What's what?" Typheus' brief annoyance disappeared and he turned to where she faced. "I heard something." The Superiority model considered for second how likely it was that she was just finding ways to distract herself, until a much louder clang reached them through a nearby winding alleyway. He perked up, standing up a bit higher as if he could see over the buildings. "There it is again!" "It might just be civilians. Some you didn't scare away," Typheus reasoned. Fiddlesticks raised her microphone sensitivity, giving in to curiosity. Her partner watched her tilt her head with acute attention. "...What is it?" "I don't hear much," she admitted, "but there are scrapes and things." "It's probably nothing," Typheus said again, but he didn't leave. A thought had occurred to him: "Do you hear talking?" Fiddlesticks looked up, expecting to hear some, but quickly shook her head in the Xinschi-uual manner, dislodging a thin coat of ash that had settled on her. He subconsciously brushed the flyaway particles off his arms. "I'll take a look." "It doesn't sound organized," she said in a warning tone, backing off to give him some space. He crouched and fanned his wings, powering them on. In two seconds their whirs escalated into full thruster blast, launching him into the sky and scattering dust back onto the Pusher model. While she sputtered and flushed out her air intake he flew up several stories, up above the smaller buildings but still below the tallest ones, and panned around in a full circle, searching for anything amiss. There was nothing to see at this height. With the thruster fire he couldn't hear a thing any further than a block away. He could still hear Fiddlesticks' binary though: "I heard a shout! It sounded like pain!" Of course she would word it like that, the white mech thought, swiveling back where the noises supposedly came from. He watched the sea of rooftops for a second, but still spotted nothing. A civilian brawl, maybe. All it's doing is stalling us. He looked back down to join up with his partner but saw her rushing through the alleyway. "Fidds!" he barked, dashing down to her yet stopping just before his wings hit the close roofs. "FIDDS!" "It's a fight!" was all she yelled back. He groaned loudly, watching her thunder ahead before power-jumping over a home, not taking into account what might be on the other side. "Dang it! Why did I get the pugnacious one?" he muttered. He shot one last look out where he knew the canal was before following the mech. "Fidds!!"
  22. A Brief Moment Where the Author Forgot What She was Doing "I see... Your friend. Is also a metal creature." The man that Fiddlesticks had met was wary. Typheus had alighted down in front of him, letting go of the Pusher model gently so she could stand on her own. She was distant as he scrutinized the man. He definitely fit Stan's definition of an Inquisitor, which truthfully, wasn't much. The only thing amiss at the moment is that the being was just aloof, not hostile. He even warned them that the area wasn't safe, although the words fell on deaf microphones. Typheus simply kept his hand on his partner, glancing over at her to see if she was even paying attention. "I'm sure we'll be fine," he said confidently. The man didn't even bother arguing with him, his attention listing as if he saw something. The machine briefly checked behind him, but the black, ash-dusted cobblestones of street and building alike were vacant, and eerily silent. "If you will excuse me, I have a duty which I must attend to," the supposed Inquisitor said. Before the mechs could object he suddenly turned and dashed off, moving unnaturally fast for a human. Fiddlesticks winced as Typheus tightened his grip in brief surprise. "See? Engineer," she said. The Superiority model narrowed his eye. "It's called an Inquisitor," he corrected. "One of the metal-benders..." "Oh. So you're an expert on non-Zirhonian worlds, now?" "Ever since you learned to chase after shiny things and people who look at you funny." Fiddlesticks' ears perked at the reminder of her foolishness at the XDRE base, but she still didn't have a good excuse for it. Random, high-strung programming again; was that even an excuse? At least it wasn't a parent thread termination again... Typheus didn't need more reasons to cling to her... not that she really cared, but... "Where do you think he went?" The Pusher model came back to reality and simply shrugged. "Who cares? I want to know more about why he wanted us out of here." Typheus felt immediate conflict with the implication of going against the man's advice. There were too many if statements: what did the man know that they didn't, what was concerning about this place, should they listen to a supposed threat or not? Usually he'd let the logic lead him, but somehow he always played it safe and Fiddlesticks had a knack for sniffing out the most grossly over-guarded, horrifically-difficult, insanely-important things on the face of the galaxy; and it was his job to protect her. I guess subconscious longing for your pilot does that to you, he thought to himself. He looked over at the 56 model while she bopped in place to a nonexistent tune. Then he remembered: Yusei! "We need to go," he said hastily, starting up a brisk walk and heading down the hillside. Fiddlesticks sent him a curious look. "What for?" "I left Yusei behind. I need to check on him!" "Pffff! Right." She dismissively looked up at the immense palace beside them, more interested in jumping back up it and seeing if there was an entrance than to go looking for him, even though it was odd that Typheus hadn't just taken the spiky-haired man along with him. Quickly and begrudgingly though, she decided to follow him. She would be going with either way, whether she chose to or if he dragged her along by force (and it wouldn't have been the first time). "...We'll come back if he's fine, right?" "Maybe." "Can I beat up the thing if he isn't?" "Sure."
  23. Maybe I was the only one who thought this, but I thought the purpose of this suggestion was to have rainbow-like lineages using preexisting dragon breeds. Although - despite the fact that dragons are already, presumably labeled for color because of Stripe breeding mechanics - I don't think the color-mixing aspect of this will ever be implemented. A BSA to switch your egg to a random one of any dragon of a similar rarity or the same Stripe-color-breeding tag, maybe, but not color mixing. As for the suggestion as a whole (from the OP as it is right now), I do like it! It's an optional, alternative method to lineage design. Besides the workload already mentioned though, another thing going against this being implemented is a simple fact related to DRs: TJ doesn't like implementing dragons with multiple alts. The Pipio had at least two alts that I can remember, but we only have the White Dove version, for example. The waxy dragons also dropped 2 (or 1, I can't remember) alts, and people are constantly advising against alts in that forum (take a peek into the liondergs thread). So simply saying "if you want this, suggest a dragon that can do it in DRs" doesn't fly because it'll never be released. You'd need at least 10 or 11 alts in order to squeeze every dragon into that breed's color list - the rainbow of 7 colors, plus brown, white, black, and possibly grey - and there's no way in high heaven that TJ is going to do that, if his alt-releasing record is to be trusted. Maybe a 7-alt breed, but only if it has a very reasonable excuse and/or each variant can be found in each biome (Xenowyrms, Zyus, etc.). If the Blend BSA was reduced to a simple egg-randomization offered by Misfits, though, I think it would be fun. Maybe it would clean out blockers as well, because you could swap an egg you don't want with one you might? It wouldn't be perfectly random though, otherwise you'd have an equal chance of getting a Gold as you would a Brimstone if you were trying to swap out a yellow egg, and that's thwarting intentional rarity. So the BSA would not only look at breeds with a similar color tag (as provided by Stripe breeding) as the egg being swapped, but also check the rarity/breeding ratios to ensure that rare yellow-tagged dragons, or rare blue-tagged, etc., would still be harder to get via the BSA than more common variations. The only thing I'm uncertain would work with this is how the game would insert the new egg into the same lineage that the swapped egg came from (and possibly auto-abandon or release the swapped egg), and that's because I'm not sure how the game records lineages... fun suggestion though.
  24. When the computer booted, I simply sat there and stared at it for a few moments. It stared back at me. My cheeks twitched as I attempted to blink. Okay... I see the picture... I know that's writing... I felt a flare of frustration. Why can't I read it? Isn't this creature literate? I still have MY brain! I squinted at the login screen, now uncertain, then looked down at the keyboard. It made about as much sense to me as a paint splatter - Wait! You can make a picture out of splatters! Okay, you remember the patterns you have to make, right? Just use your motor memory. I moved my arms, starting with the wrong pair, shifted my shoulders, tried to find the right muscles, leaned forward, bent a bit, tried moving again - darn it, how did I do that again?? - and tried touching my face again. Ah hah! There are the secondary arms. Okay, so I moved my secondary arms over the keys, stared intensely at the screen and the positioning of my hands, and tried to type. Passwords are blocked out, so it didn't help me when I began typing, but it also wasn't a problem since I couldn't read my own account name anyway, even though in my head I knew what it was. Thankfully I was already a three-finger typer, so I only messed up a couple of times before I began typing coherently - or at least, I thought I was. With new muscles, I lacked the motor memory I needed, and without being able to read I was forced to guess the position of each key, but after seven minutes of failed attempts and stress I finally logged in! I let out a happy chirruping squeal when the OS brought me to my desktop. Whew! So I could still kind of use a computer; although if this continues being a thing I might want to color-code each of the keys... Navigating the laptop was easy once it was loaded, as I associated more directly with the icons than the text, so it was no less difficult than using it with a different language selected. The problem arose again only once I had my email client up and I was ready to write home; not only was I not sure what to say, I wasn't confident that I could say it... Just do what you did with the password, I assured myself, maybe repeat each word in case you fudge it up each time. I don't even know what to do after this though... I can't hide in here because people will drive me out... but I don't want to just abandon my things and Aegis, hoping that my parents actually come and pick them up. Maybe... maybe I'll just tell them straight. I can't risk a long email conversation littered with excuses, trying to convince them that this can't be solved any other way. And... maybe they'll bring me home. I could hide there! I mean, I should send a picture, just so they're prepared. Yeah. Using a phone can't be any harder than the laptop... With that decided, I awkwardly began typing as coherently as I could, trying to explain my situation. I couldn't proofread it, which annoyed me, but I just told myself that it didn't look as bad as I feared. When I sent it off, complete with a very shaky picture of my new self (which I admittedly studied a bit more) that took way too long to find on the computer, it looked like this: " Heyu guys, I eed you to come pick up Aegis for me. I've ciontracted the Pokush virus and now I'me some kind of fluffy crystal creatufre;. It's tje omage attacjeed tp tjos. I b;t be able to work out here now so if you want to pick me up along with my belongings and Aegis, then wrap p ,yjotel stay for me, that'd be awesome. Thanks! I;m about to email my latest client - no wait, please email my latest client for me. Tell him I'm sick please. His number is 293=4850. Love you guys! = Sa,amthja " If I had been able to read it I would have been impressed by how many keys I hit correctly. Then I would have been embarrassed about "Pokush". I guess in that case, ignorance is bliss. High with stress, I sent off the email to my parents, deciding not to email John after all and hoping they could tell him for me. Then I realized that I might have typed the phone number wrong - which I did - and second-guessed myself. So I wrote an equally-awkward email to him trying to explain that I was incredibly sick and won't be able to do art anymore. Then I told him my parents might be calling him because I'm way too courteous like that. Wrote "sorry" as best I could about six times, tried to end it with a light joke about how great it was he didn't prepay me, signed it off with "Samanthja" again - without slipping this time! - and sent that email off too. Now, I found myself staring blankly at my colorful phoenix background. I guess all I can do is wait, I thought. Maybe I'll watch TV... I'm already paying for the service. Surely there are other people that have turned, right? Well, working the remote is going to be an adventure.. Oh, and I need to feed my cat, too.
  25. Oh boy, another text adventure! (Comes across split in paths.) All right then, let's explore... (Goes west). Vines with large flowers? Nope, I know what that is. (Goes east). A glowing light in a clearing with gravestones? Nope, know what that is. Well, now what? (Does research on dragons for least-horrible death). All right, guess I'll do vines. (Two minutes later and several times after that). My avatar is an idiot. ALTHOUGH it was a very fun game that made me laugh a lot. I especially loved the not-fight where you get to throw a stick and brandish a bucket of water. Very entertaining! Thanks for the timekiller, TJ and staff! I'm eager to see what the new release will be~