Continuous CYOA: The Road to Free Roller
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Skim it.
You disgust me
Read. Every. Last. Word.
It is your first test of spirit. Show some fucking diligence.
It is your first test of spirit. Show some fucking diligence.
But it's TC, he'll skim it at best. He doesn't even read mafia posts.
Ah, so you've discussed me?
Can't pretend you didn't understand what I said when we're talking in text format, TC. and don't change the subject, you turd
- Read the material
TC set to work. Hour after hour went by, as did page by page, and the seemingly endless lines of text started to bore hole into his eyes, and then through to the back of his skull. As a former business major, he simply was not accustomed to this level of cramming, but damned if he was going to give up already. In the meantime, a sympathetic Dragonruby did what he could to help with generous contributions from the lounge's coffee maker. Night came and went. Then it came and went again. He started occasionally dozing off, only to wake again soon after and get right back at it without saying a word.
It was later. Suffering had happened.
"Druby" he said, exhausted, finally throwing aside the very last page. It fluttered to the ground, and the cabinet-bot immediately whirred over and picked it up again. "Did I really have to go through all of that? Great God. Some of that was terrible. What. The fuck. Have I just done!?"
Dragonruby answered him with a calculating look. Coffee-shits and sparse eating had turned him even gaunter in the past few days, and dark blue half-moons had steadily built themselves up under his bloodshot eyes. "Come on," he said at last, standing abruptly and pulling something from one of the desk drawers. "Let me show you something."
Too tired to argue anymore at this point, but nurturing some resentment all the same, Thunderclaw followed him as he strode briskly towards a small, unassuming door across the archive room, skipped down a couple of flights of stairs beyond, and emerged in a hall that looked somewhat... asylum-like.
The walls on each side were made of some sort of glass, and divided into small, brightly-lit rooms that contained nothing other than a concrete back wall, something that on examination turned out to be an IV stand, and a large, oblong thing that, to his nerd-enthusiast mind, simply screamed out 'stasis pod'. Big enough to hold even a very large full-grown man, the padded interior was surrounded by an outer shell that was all smooth metal and blinking lights on the bottom, sliding glass lid on the top.
"Sim-ports" Dragonruby explained without slowing, following his gaze. "Basically, you get in, and it uplinks your consciousness right into the RP world. Pretty much like The Matrix, only without the plugs and needles and shit. Don't ask me how they work, I don't know. We've got a forumer who's sometimes an eldritch boner-monster, speaks in teal, and travels backwards in time. Who gives a fuck?"
Just then, an outburst of hysterical laughter sounded from a room up ahead, and Druby came to a swift and sudden stop. "Here it is" he said sadly, nodding at it. "The Zapy room."
To Be Continued...
(Very Shortly.)
TC set to work. Hour after hour went by, as did page by page, and the seemingly endless lines of text started to bore hole into his eyes, and then through to the back of his skull. As a former business major, he simply was not accustomed to this level of cramming, but damned if he was going to give up already. In the meantime, a sympathetic Dragonruby did what he could to help with generous contributions from the lounge's coffee maker. Night came and went. Then it came and went again. He started occasionally dozing off, only to wake again soon after and get right back at it without saying a word.
It was later. Suffering had happened.
"Druby" he said, exhausted, finally throwing aside the very last page. It fluttered to the ground, and the cabinet-bot immediately whirred over and picked it up again. "Did I really have to go through all of that? Great God. Some of that was terrible. What. The fuck. Have I just done!?"
Dragonruby answered him with a calculating look. Coffee-shits and sparse eating had turned him even gaunter in the past few days, and dark blue half-moons had steadily built themselves up under his bloodshot eyes. "Come on," he said at last, standing abruptly and pulling something from one of the desk drawers. "Let me show you something."
Too tired to argue anymore at this point, but nurturing some resentment all the same, Thunderclaw followed him as he strode briskly towards a small, unassuming door across the archive room, skipped down a couple of flights of stairs beyond, and emerged in a hall that looked somewhat... asylum-like.
The walls on each side were made of some sort of glass, and divided into small, brightly-lit rooms that contained nothing other than a concrete back wall, something that on examination turned out to be an IV stand, and a large, oblong thing that, to his nerd-enthusiast mind, simply screamed out 'stasis pod'. Big enough to hold even a very large full-grown man, the padded interior was surrounded by an outer shell that was all smooth metal and blinking lights on the bottom, sliding glass lid on the top.
"Sim-ports" Dragonruby explained without slowing, following his gaze. "Basically, you get in, and it uplinks your consciousness right into the RP world. Pretty much like The Matrix, only without the plugs and needles and shit. Don't ask me how they work, I don't know. We've got a forumer who's sometimes an eldritch boner-monster, speaks in teal, and travels backwards in time. Who gives a fuck?"
Just then, an outburst of hysterical laughter sounded from a room up ahead, and Druby came to a swift and sudden stop. "Here it is" he said sadly, nodding at it. "The Zapy room."
To Be Continued...
(Very Shortly.)
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Loved the business major bit.
A competent human being shouldn't even have to study for a business degree.
A competent human being shouldn't even have to study for a business degree.
"Wha-" Thunderclaw's query trailed off, as he squinted his tired eyes and leaned forward to stare. The lid of the pod was closed, but slots in the casing allowed for air intake and for the line of an IV drip, which ran through and into the pale flesh of one writhing, thrashing arm. "I don't understand," he said, with a mix of horror and fascination. "Di-"
"AH HAHA HAHAHHHH! FOOLS!" The figure, mid to late teenager by the look of him, screamed aloud from within the pod. A sort of visor extended over the top half of his face, blocking it from view. "YOU'RE TOO LATE!! BEHODRUNG HAS ALREADY SPLIT THE ATOM!!" Steel locks held his wrists, ankles, and head in place, as he convulsed wildly.
"SOON MEIN KAISER'S AGENTS WILL HAVE CAPTURED THIS TECHNOLOGY, AND THEN ALL THE LESSER PEOPLES OF THIS WORLD ARE DOOOOMED!!! DOOOOOOOMMMMMED!!!! OOOOBERLAND, OOOBEEERRRLLLAAANND ÜBER ALLLEESS!!!! SSSSIIIIIIEEEEG HEEEEEIIIILLLL MEEEIN VATERRRLLAAAAND!!!!! SSSSIIIIIEEEEG HEEEEIIIIILLLL!!!!!"
"Shit. That's five exclamation points" noted Druby. "Again." A dial on the IV stand had been progressively lighting more of a row of small red lights. When all five were lit, near the end of this outburst, they all began flashing on and off together, and something happened with the machinery around the drip bags. Foam started to build up in the screaming kid's mouth, and his shouting broke down into an unintelligible flow of vaguely German-sounding nonsense words.
A few seconds later, he began to visibly calm down, growing quieter, and slower and more sluggish with his movements and his speech. As quickly and suddenly as it had begun, it was over again, and he fell back entirely into a rhythm of gentle snores.
There was a long moment of silence between the two observers. Thunderclaw was struggling to collect his thoughts on what he'd just seen, and Druby was more than happy to give him the time for it all sink in. Finally, the former decided on a question to start with.
"Look," said Thunderclaw, "I read all the material. All of it. And him? He's definitely supposed to be out of the RP. What's he still doing here?"
"Oh, he's not hooked up" Druby answered grimly. "That pod? Uplink's not even on. Only things running are mood scan, life support, and safety systems. He can literally leave whenever he wants to. Sometimes he does. Then he goes back." He shook his head. "Even the people still in this thing can go a long time between visits. At this rate, sooner or later he'll get unlucky, and there won't be anyone around to restock the IV's before..." He let that thought hang there unfinished. It stuck around for a while, basking in the silence.
Eventually, TC ventured another try. "That screaming," he said. "It sounded like he thought he was actually in the RP." Druby dismissed him with a wave of his hand. "I know, but he's not hooked up. Trust me. He's imagining it." He pointed at the wrist locks. "His actual body wouldn't be moving if he were, except for reflexive motions and such. The restraints are just a precautionary measure. Some people tend to seize up a bit during the uplink process, especially their first few times or so.
"You know, it's sad" he went on reflectively. "He was pretty normal when he got in here, more or less. Bit eccentric about German stuff, mind you, but who doesn't have some kind of quirk around here?" He gestured vaguely at the tank, and turned to look directly (up) at Thunderclaw.
"You want to work on some part of your own personality? This is probably the place to do it. But be careful with wish fulfillment. It's dangerous. The lines between yourself and your simulation can get... dodgy, with those things.
"I came in here running a possessed suit of armor, who ruled over a nation of possessed suits of armor and their human subjects. Tirin, a boy of fifteen trying to fill his late father's shoes, ruling over the largest fragment of a divided empire. Easy, a frail old woman who wrote the book on teleportation, and a teenage half-elf illusionist. Stoney, a mysterious shaman leading the united orcs of the Northern wastes to salvation, conquest, and some ancient, unknown power. Oh, sure, I got out of there soon after, but we're all still alive and well, more or less.
"So take my advice: don't end up like this." He jerked a thumb back in Zapy's direction, and started walking back in the direction whence they'd come from. "Ditch Colonel Thunder. And whatever it is you want to be better at, don't create someone who has it already, and try living as them for practice. It doesn't work that way. You'll need someone who's going to be tested. Or, don't. Your call." And that seemed to be that. He left the floor without saying another word, nor waiting for any answer.
Left alone in the hall, with only an unconscious madman for company, Thunderclaw digested all these thoughts and began formulating a course of action.
TC would start off with...
- A swordsman
- A mage
- A medic
- An archer
- ???
Speccing...
- DEX
- STR
- INT
- ???
Faction (Choose One):
"AH HAHA HAHAHHHH! FOOLS!" The figure, mid to late teenager by the look of him, screamed aloud from within the pod. A sort of visor extended over the top half of his face, blocking it from view. "YOU'RE TOO LATE!! BEHODRUNG HAS ALREADY SPLIT THE ATOM!!" Steel locks held his wrists, ankles, and head in place, as he convulsed wildly.
"SOON MEIN KAISER'S AGENTS WILL HAVE CAPTURED THIS TECHNOLOGY, AND THEN ALL THE LESSER PEOPLES OF THIS WORLD ARE DOOOOMED!!! DOOOOOOOMMMMMED!!!! OOOOBERLAND, OOOBEEERRRLLLAAANND ÜBER ALLLEESS!!!! SSSSIIIIIIEEEEG HEEEEEIIIILLLL MEEEIN VATERRRLLAAAAND!!!!! SSSSIIIIIEEEEG HEEEEIIIIILLLL!!!!!"
"Shit. That's five exclamation points" noted Druby. "Again." A dial on the IV stand had been progressively lighting more of a row of small red lights. When all five were lit, near the end of this outburst, they all began flashing on and off together, and something happened with the machinery around the drip bags. Foam started to build up in the screaming kid's mouth, and his shouting broke down into an unintelligible flow of vaguely German-sounding nonsense words.
A few seconds later, he began to visibly calm down, growing quieter, and slower and more sluggish with his movements and his speech. As quickly and suddenly as it had begun, it was over again, and he fell back entirely into a rhythm of gentle snores.
There was a long moment of silence between the two observers. Thunderclaw was struggling to collect his thoughts on what he'd just seen, and Druby was more than happy to give him the time for it all sink in. Finally, the former decided on a question to start with.
"Look," said Thunderclaw, "I read all the material. All of it. And him? He's definitely supposed to be out of the RP. What's he still doing here?"
"Oh, he's not hooked up" Druby answered grimly. "That pod? Uplink's not even on. Only things running are mood scan, life support, and safety systems. He can literally leave whenever he wants to. Sometimes he does. Then he goes back." He shook his head. "Even the people still in this thing can go a long time between visits. At this rate, sooner or later he'll get unlucky, and there won't be anyone around to restock the IV's before..." He let that thought hang there unfinished. It stuck around for a while, basking in the silence.
Eventually, TC ventured another try. "That screaming," he said. "It sounded like he thought he was actually in the RP." Druby dismissed him with a wave of his hand. "I know, but he's not hooked up. Trust me. He's imagining it." He pointed at the wrist locks. "His actual body wouldn't be moving if he were, except for reflexive motions and such. The restraints are just a precautionary measure. Some people tend to seize up a bit during the uplink process, especially their first few times or so.
"You know, it's sad" he went on reflectively. "He was pretty normal when he got in here, more or less. Bit eccentric about German stuff, mind you, but who doesn't have some kind of quirk around here?" He gestured vaguely at the tank, and turned to look directly (up) at Thunderclaw.
"You want to work on some part of your own personality? This is probably the place to do it. But be careful with wish fulfillment. It's dangerous. The lines between yourself and your simulation can get... dodgy, with those things.
"I came in here running a possessed suit of armor, who ruled over a nation of possessed suits of armor and their human subjects. Tirin, a boy of fifteen trying to fill his late father's shoes, ruling over the largest fragment of a divided empire. Easy, a frail old woman who wrote the book on teleportation, and a teenage half-elf illusionist. Stoney, a mysterious shaman leading the united orcs of the Northern wastes to salvation, conquest, and some ancient, unknown power. Oh, sure, I got out of there soon after, but we're all still alive and well, more or less.
"So take my advice: don't end up like this." He jerked a thumb back in Zapy's direction, and started walking back in the direction whence they'd come from. "Ditch Colonel Thunder. And whatever it is you want to be better at, don't create someone who has it already, and try living as them for practice. It doesn't work that way. You'll need someone who's going to be tested. Or, don't. Your call." And that seemed to be that. He left the floor without saying another word, nor waiting for any answer.
Left alone in the hall, with only an unconscious madman for company, Thunderclaw digested all these thoughts and began formulating a course of action.
TC would start off with...
- A swordsman
- A mage
- A medic
- An archer
- ???
Speccing...
- DEX
- STR
- INT
- ???
Faction (Choose One):
The large east/central nation of Galadon is ruled by a noble class of Vrykal, mobile suits of armor possessed by the souls of formerly human warriors. Rebellion was sparked in the city of Allin hardly months ago, when foreign agents in the area staged acts of brutality against the peasantry by local Vrykal lords. With foreign aid and influence, and building off of the working class's resentments against a ruling class that exploits their labor and consumes the souls of living humans for sustenance, what was initially a localized cry for independence has since developed into an all-out war for the Galadonian throne.
The last Eximian Emperor, whose domain encompassed the majority of human lands in the north of the continent, perished decades ago without leaving any legitimate heir. The eastern half of these lands have since been claimed and ruled by House Vasa, of which Emperor Luscar I Vasa, age fifteen, is the current representative. The Ascendancy is currently engaged in a state of war against the Vrykal Lords of Galadon, bringing considerable numbers, resources, and military and magical expertise to bear in the endeavor. However, talk of a Western Crusade has recently begun sweeping through the country. It remains to be seen what effect this will have in detracting from the available manpower for deployment in the Southern front.
Far northwest of Vasa, tens, if not hundreds of thousands of orcs band under a single Chieftain and swarm the human lands to their southeast, following the leadership and advice of the shaman Third Root. What his true motives and intentions are remain to be seen, even by the orcs themselves, but his warriors currently hold the captured hinterland fortress of Verthill, under siege by the retinues of Count Sighorn of Ava, who have yet to discover the true weight of their new enemy's strength and numbers.
South of Galadon, and west of the East Oberland Empire, this large agricultural nation currently fights a defensive war against East Oberland imperialism. The WER, like their eastern neighbors, is mainly populated by humans with a distant-ancestral mix of Draconic blood. Unlike the EOE, whose 'steam Panzers' and other traditions and equipment mimic early Industrial Germany, the WER makes regular use of mages, plate armor, and fortified castles. Due to their lower numbers and far smaller supply of gunpowder weaponry, however, the bulk of the war effort on the defensive side is focused around attrition, employing scorched-earth tactics where ground is given and cutting off trade relations that previously provided the majority of the East Oberland's food supply. As soldiers in the West fight tanks and muskets, the East fights starvation and instability, and sons of the Dragon on both sides lay dying.
Appendix A: Multi-Choice Chapters
Okay, so the way it's going to work is like this: Pick something from each category, or make up something else if desired where the '???' option is available.
Example: "An archer speccing DEX for Galadon Revolutionaries'.
Whichever choice in a given category has the most votes, in the end, will be the one applied for that category in the end. It will then be combined with its counterparts in the other categories to determine the basic character concept that TC runs with. I'll fill in details myself from there.
Faction summaries: If you don't feel like reading 'em, whatever, pick at random I guess. But I've put hella effort into keeping them as brief as possible (a mid-sized paragraph each) for ease of accessibility. Not even that bad, really.
Which is obviously far from all the basic RP material for Fancy Nations, but, eh. It's enough for our purposes here, for now.
Oh. Also, the first two categories may be submitted as a combination of any two or more choices. (E.g., archer/medic or medic/soldier.) In which case, I'll think on the most sensible way to count those. Probably by considering an A/B combo to be separate from (not adding to) votes for A or B individually.
Okay, so the way it's going to work is like this: Pick something from each category, or make up something else if desired where the '???' option is available.
Example: "An archer speccing DEX for Galadon Revolutionaries'.
Whichever choice in a given category has the most votes, in the end, will be the one applied for that category in the end. It will then be combined with its counterparts in the other categories to determine the basic character concept that TC runs with. I'll fill in details myself from there.
Faction summaries: If you don't feel like reading 'em, whatever, pick at random I guess. But I've put hella effort into keeping them as brief as possible (a mid-sized paragraph each) for ease of accessibility. Not even that bad, really.
Which is obviously far from all the basic RP material for Fancy Nations, but, eh. It's enough for our purposes here, for now.
Oh. Also, the first two categories may be submitted as a combination of any two or more choices. (E.g., archer/medic or medic/soldier.) In which case, I'll think on the most sensible way to count those. Probably by considering an A/B combo to be separate from (not adding to) votes for A or B individually.
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TC would like the idea of reprogramming all the robots and tech stuff in Galadon, so I think he'd pick that faction.
He'd pick intelligence because you probably need that to be friends with robots or something. (And 'cause I'm real smart!
)
He'd pick mage because...I don't know, I just think if he tried to fuse magic and tech some crazy shenanigans would happen. Also, it would be more funny to watch him fumble with magic than a sword or bow.
He'd pick intelligence because you probably need that to be friends with robots or something. (And 'cause I'm real smart!
)He'd pick mage because...I don't know, I just think if he tried to fuse magic and tech some crazy shenanigans would happen. Also, it would be more funny to watch him fumble with magic than a sword or bow.
That's... not really Galadon's thing.
Fuckin' bastard, not actually reading the material. You'll never succeed in this test of spirit if this is the best you bring to the table.
You guys, uh. Might want to come up with a Plan B.TC would like the idea of reprogramming all the robots and tech stuff in Galadon, so I think he'd pick that faction.
He'd pick intelligence because you probably need that to be friends with robots or something. (And 'cause I'm real smart!
He'd pick mage because...I don't know, I just think if he tried to fuse magic and tech some crazy shenanigans would happen. Also, it would be more funny to watch him fumble with magic than a sword or bow.