> Iris: Feel Fed Up With [Sburb Beta 0.1.2.] Your (So-Called) Friends

Thief of Words

Thief of Words

Archivist for Hire
==> Iris: Express Dissatisfaction with Situation


You step away from your laptop, unable to believe how incredibly wrong this day is going. All you wanted was a fun day with your friends. Not to be accused of lying. Stupid bullshit accurate tarot reading. Fuming, you stomp over to the Thoth deck, captchaloguing it with your Sleight of Hand Modus. Normally you would pass time by playing with your modus, performing feats of prestidigitation that you'd thoroughly enjoy. Right now, you just don't feel like it.


Kicking a spray of decks out of your way, you stalk over to the television, and cut the stupid thing off. You don't think even Harryhausen could cheer you up right now. You might as well just sit back down and wait for those jerks to get over all their high-handed bullshit. Assuming they manage it before meteors come and leave your current position a smoking crater in the landscape.


You suspect your chances are better waiting for the Devil to contact you. But what other choice do you have? Well...maybe Ione will be on by now.


LM began pestering SS
 
==> Attempt to pester your Client


LM: Hey, Isaac?


LM: You there?


LM: Ione wanted to know how you'd be acting as server player for. Just...yeah.


==> Iris: Discern the face of the sky.


You get up from your computer and tromp over to a window, peering out to see if the sky is red and lowering fast.
 
The sky is...Well, you remember old sailing proverbs about the sky being red at morning or night, but none about the mid-afternoon. The horizon glows a firey orange, and as you watch, a burning red rock crashes into the ground not too far off, leaving a burning trail of destroyed vegetation behind it.


A lone siren wails in the distance, though this far away you can't tell if it's police, fire, or an ambulance. It hits you that this might really be it, the end of the world.


As if confirming your gut feeling, another meteor crashes down, this one even closer, and the shockwave knocks your tarot cards off your desk. They land splayed on the floor, the Five of Discs face up.
 
AR: Sorry for the late reply, I was busy trying to figure out where I am. All I know is that I'm someplace hot and shakey, probably an active volcano, by my best guess. Can you see me on the monitor?


AR: Server Player? So THAT was what the other disk was for! I'll download it to my computer and run the server copy. I'll bring both you and Ione into the game if you want. It's not like I have anything else to do. :U
 
About a second after impact, your computer pings, alerting you that Sburb has connected.


SBURB VERSION 0.1.2


© SKAIANET SYSTEMS INCORPORATED. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED


SBURB CLIENT IS RUNNING


Waiting to establish Server connection...


A SBURB Host User is attempting to connect with you.


Client has established connection with Host.


Press [ENTER] when ready.
 
==> Defy the sign of the times.


As more sirens start up in the distance, your apartment is jolted by the impact. The jolt sends the Jason portion of your Hydra statue from Jason and the Argonauts toppling down onto your keyboard, starting up your media player on shuffle.As the gorgeous organ notes of the opening of Mr. Crowley give way to Ozzy's voice, you step over, taking hold of that philandering, Hydra-murdering asshole, and heave him forcibly out the window. You long ago separated Jason from the poor, dutiful, doomed Hydra, leaving the golden fleece on that noble guardian's portion.


[media]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1q97XUgGON4[/media]


You let loose a little grin as you watch that bastard arc out into the air, even as some small, distant part of your mind worries with the idea that you might just die here. Your grin turns to a glare as you see that asshole card Worry staring up at you from the floor. That smug bastard! Nothing to be done is there? Fuck that! You aren't about to let a deck of cards made by a dead old would-be magician tell you what you can and can't do.


Looking at your laptop, you see pesterchum is blinking with a response from Isaac. You scan his message briefly, responding before dashing off a quick update to Ione and CS, even as you see Sburb is ready to connect you to a server player.


==> Iris: [Enter]


Your messages sent, you captchalogue your various decks in quick succession, grab your prized hydra statue, and hit [Enter]. Time to get this kick-ass show on the road.
 
> Play the game.


This is it. The most hyped piece of software in the history of video gaming. A game years in the making. Magazines and websites fought each other like starving dogs to secure a review beta copy. A torrential advertising and word-of-mouth campaign swept the globe for months, the hype train never stopping. It's finally here, on your laptop, right now.


And it's fucking The Sims.


You sit there, dumbfounded. This is it. There's the little item bar ("Phernalia Registry", whatever) and the little house filled with little crap and the little goth character lernaeanMeonen made sitting at her little fake laptop and jesus fuck you are so glad your roommates aren't here to see you play this mudslide of horseshit. No wonder your roommate dumped this thing almost sight-unseen! You thought he was being his usual douchebag flippant self but no, he probably took one look at this thing like you are now and, using his keen video game reviewer instincts, tossed it into the proverbial woods. Next up on the agenda: tossing this game into the literal, actual woods. What a fucking letdown.


Out of sheer habit, you poke around for a minute. Is there a character creation screen for you? Maybe not; you're a "Server" player, it says, so you guess you run the little environment instead of having a character yourself. You thought this was supposed to be some sort of multiplayer RPG MMO thing! What the fuck! This is ridiculous. This is an outrage! Your Roid-Rage-O-Meter ticks a few notches, and your head starts pounding from that hangover again, and you need some sort of outlet. Fuck, screw this 'guild' or whatever messing with you today. All this apocalypse shit, now this game; you've got no investment, so you might as well blow off some steam by fucking with them just like they're fucking with you.


You can start with smashing that stupid little Sims character with a bookshelf.
 
==> Iris: Dodge your co-player's attempt on your life.


You hit [Enter] and send off your next wave of messages. Just as you're about to plan another wave, however, your coplayer decides to be a jackass and attempts to bludgeon you with your own bookshelf.


Making use of twitch-based reactions and instinct for betrayal honed by countless hours of Dark Souls, you roll out of the way of your friend's attempt to kill you. Glaring upward you flip cyclicalSwagger--of all your friends not in the game yet, he's the only one who'd do shit like this--the bird before moving back over to your laptop so you can get the asshat to back off.


LM: Hey, jackass!


LM: That's me you're trying crush there.


LM: Do you really wanna be the fucktard with the rocket launcher that kills off his teammates for fun?


LM: And before you decide to fuck with me because you think the game's just the Sims or some shit, it's not. Just, let's get this first part of this out of the way before I die in a fire, so I can get to the damned adventuring already.


LM: I'm going downstairs, since there's plenty of damned room down there. So help me, if you keep fucking with me, I will hunt you down and shove my boot so far up your ass you'll be calling me mistress and asking "Please, Ma'am, may I have another?" I will give you the platonic fucking ideal of ass-kickings, so get your head out of your ass, and scroll the window downstairs.
 
Shellshocked, you begin to type.


CS: i


CS: uh


CS: i'm back


CS: meteors


CS: yeah


CS: that's a thing now


CS: that's actually you, right


CS: like not a toon


CS: like an actual person


CS: i don't


CS: know what


CS: i just


CS: ok


Deep breath. You tab back to the walkthrough and begin reading more in-depth this time, not skimming. The next steps seem simple enough.


CS: i think


CS: i got this.


Clearing off a bit of space in one of the larger downstairs rooms, you drop down the cruxituder.


CS: what do you need next?
 
==>Iris: Bring him up to speed


You give him one last cross look.


LM: Yes, that's me!


LM: You haven't put down the Cruxtruder yet, have you?


You head down the stairs, grimacing as you see the cruxtruder ticking away in the midst of your room like a reverse doomsday clock. Shit. You jump the last few steps, using the mobile pesterchum on your phone to respond quickly.


LM: Shitshitshit. Okay. That countdown? That's how long I have to live if we fail.


LM: You need to deploy the main gear shit. For the Cruxtruder, just bludgeon it open with something heavy. I'll get the dowels from it, and see if we can't start setting that shit up.


LM:See the statue in my hand?


You brandish your hydra statue at your co-player.


LM: I'll grab the damn seizurekernel so you drop the statue in it. Okay?


LM:While you set everything up, I'm gonna get someone to connect as your Host. Sounds like you don't have much more time than I do.


LM has begun pestering SS
 
AR has begun perstering LM


AR: Sorry for the late reply, but it wasn't me. I was busy kicking ass and taking names. Advanced two rungs in the ladder and got a bunch of grist. What's the situation?
 
Years of fucking around with the City of Heroes base creator have paid off; you're swiftly able to set down the additional items required, and all while pointedly ignoring the sirens outside. Grabbing that bathtub again (built-in agitator, nice), you ready to open the cruxtruder.


CS: you ready?


You drop the bathtub and pop the top.
 
The cruxtruder bursts open, spitting out a turquoise-colored seizure kernel, just like the one that had popped out of Issac's cruxtruder, then begins to count down:





4:59


4:58


Looks like you have about five minutes to get this show on the road.
 
LM: Asked a friend to fire up her game as Host for you. You should be getting this shit set up shortly. But yeah. Ready.


You step back as he asks the question, long practice enabling you to shoot off that message in the wake of contacting Ione and Iris.


As he releases the tub, you toss up your Hydra statue, moving to leap at the seizurekernel and hold it so he can prototype it before you get your totem on.
 
The kernel explodes with light as the hydra statue touches it, leaving a strange looking three-headed dragon shape in its place. The creature bobs in place, before emitting a screech and floating off in search of food.


Your impromptu stunt has left you facedown on the floor, right in front of Ron. Not your finest hour.


3:48


3:47


3:46
 
> Laugh heartily.


CS: c'mon girl, getcha head in the game!


CS: come on and SLAM


CS: and welcome to the JAM


Satisfied, you turn to other matters, leaving her to mop things up on her own. Not without taking a screenshot, though.
 
You grimace at how uncool that turned out. Getting up, you jot off a quick message with one hand as you retrieve cruxite with the other.


LM: Fuck it. Alchemize now. Fix sprite later.


LM: I'm gonna grab this cruxite and get to making my totem. Gimme a hand here.


===> Shut up and Jam


After retrieving the cruxite, you make your way to quickly run through the production stations, sure of what to do from having worked through it with Isaac. First, you take the card and cruxite and double-dunk them into place on the totem lathe, setting it to action.
 
The lathe carves the dowel, preparing it for use on the Alchemiter. Another meteor crashes, even closer to your house this time, as the cruxtruder continues to count down.


3:15


3:14


SLAM.


3:13


3:12
 
Grabbing the carved dowel, you jam your way over to the Alchemiter, setting it up.


Grinning, you activate the alchemiter.
 
The alchemiter scans the dowel, and spawns a huge, ornate chest.


Inlaid into the surface are beautiful carvings of serpents that seem to move when you take your eyes off of it.


Outside, more meteors fall, and the sky turns a devil red. It's now or never.


0:29


0:28


0:27
 
==> Iris: Open Pandora's Serpent-y Box.


The crimson light of armageddon flooding your room, you step up to the chest and throw the lid back, the excitement you've been feeling all week rushing back with a vengeance now that your friends are being taken care of.


"Fuck you, Mister Crowley. My fate's my own."
 
Your room fills with white light, transporting you to the medium mere seconds before a meteor the size of Illinois turns your neighborhood into a crater. The hydra splits, one half flying through your roof to god-knows-where, the other taking on a more ghost-like form, ending in a tapering tail.


The sound of church bells echo through your house, and the light outside is suddenly serene and blue.
 
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