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Weapon + Board: Drummer Greatweapon: Vocalist Bows: Bass Firearms: Rythm Guitar Who run Bartertown?
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# ? Apr 24, 2019 04:28 |
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# ? Apr 26, 2024 17:45 |
Yeah that's exactly what I was going to do, kit-wise, so +1 Patrick Warburton's voice was the perfect choice for Dicksmasher.
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# ? Apr 24, 2019 12:34 |
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Hexenritter posted:Yeah that's exactly what I was going to do, kit-wise, so +1 I know it's boring for people to all agree right off the bat but I completely agree with all of this. From the moment you said to imagine that voice he started narrating it perfectly.
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# ? Apr 24, 2019 17:18 |
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What's Going On Behind The Scenes So a little peak behind the curtain. All of the main characters have their own character sheet based off the METAL WORLD game book. While not every action is rolled for many are. Ghengal could have dodged the dicksmashed if he had rolled high enough, but it probably wasn't going to happen. The other thing I roll for are a couple of probability dice. These determine how likely an event is going to occur based on the goonmind's wishes. Also while writing DS I read all of his lines out loud as Kronk or Joe Swanson.
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# ? Apr 24, 2019 19:35 |
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Deadmeat5150 posted:Also while writing DS I read all of his lines out loud as Kronk or Joe Swanson. You and me both. Blasphemaster posted:Weapon + Board: Drummer I'm trying to put my own spin on things but this just makes sense.
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# ? Apr 24, 2019 23:21 |
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Brawnfire posted:You and me both. Ditto, +1 this plan of action.
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# ? Apr 24, 2019 23:44 |
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Deadmeat5150 posted:Ghengal could have dodged the dicksmashed if he had rolled high enough, but it probably wasn't going to happen. It also allowed you to posit the existence of not only a physical dick in which one might be punched, but also a punchable metaphysical dick, which I must say was totally third-eye opening, even if that third eye was ol' one-eye and it opened because it got punched so hard. Dicksmasher is both art and philosophy.
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# ? Apr 25, 2019 01:55 |
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ManiacClown posted:It also allowed you to posit the existence of not only a physical dick in which one might be punched, but also a punchable metaphysical dick, which I must say was totally third-eye opening, even if that third eye was ol' one-eye and it opened because it got punched so hard. Dicksmasher is both art and philosophy. He's really good at it.
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# ? Apr 25, 2019 02:24 |
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Junpei posted:Ditto, +1 this plan of action.
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# ? Apr 25, 2019 03:26 |
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So if we have metaphysical dicks, can these walking piles of bones still bone?
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# ? Apr 25, 2019 04:21 |
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super sweet best pal posted:So if we have metaphysical dicks, can these walking piles of bones still bone?
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# ? Apr 25, 2019 04:35 |
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super sweet best pal posted:So if we have metaphysical dicks, can these walking piles of bones still bone? World note: undead somehow managing to live it up— so to speak— is how you get Graveborn.
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# ? Apr 27, 2019 16:46 |
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Things are going weird for me right now so my creative juices have dropped to nearly nothing. Between family poo poo and health poo poo it's just been terrible. I'll update fully once I'm back in the swing of things.
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# ? May 1, 2019 08:20 |
No pressure buddy, the update will happen when it happens. Don't force it.
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# ? May 1, 2019 18:48 |
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Goddamn rain growing my lawn/weed situation so it's like some kinda floral Raccoon City bullshit that 10 Amp Hours at 40 Volts still leaves my mowing at maybe 15% left for the backyard and the FRONT STILL IS UNTOUCHED gently caress YOU NATURE. ^ If we can channel my lawn care frustration into some kinda buff thingy that'd be neat.
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# ? May 2, 2019 05:46 |
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Decisions have been made. DS takes the Ranged unit into his hands. “Now the thing about being Undead, no veins for this to flow through. There is a way to use it, of course, but it’s not fun. Here, just let me…” He jams the needle into your skull. You expected pain, you expected to suddenly know things you never knew before, you expected anything but a flood of memories that weren’t yours just a second ago. You remember being taught so much about archery while very young. All the proper ways to not only use an old-fashioned bow, but modern compound bows, crossbows, and even many types of throwing weapons. There’s a warmth from the androgynous silver figure, you know that it only wants what is best for you. You remember one time in some nameless primal forest where it taught you how to straighten shafts, pluck a bird, and properly fletch an arrow. It taught you how to angle your shots to get the best distance, how to gauge the wind, and which arrowhead to use for maximum effect. You never realized how much there was just to being a basic archer, what one had to know. You never realized how much you knew you always knew. The sound of snapping fingers brings you back. “Yo, hey, you still with me?” You can only numbly nod your head. “Mind trip, right?” “Who was that? Why was it like that?” “So the whole tech is thanks to the dudes in Cold Steel Harbor, robots and cyborgs mostly. With some ge-gnome help, of course. They discovered that you can’t just implant skills and stuff, it doesn’t work very well and it fades, but if you make it a strong memory from something you have emotions for, then it’s much more likely to stick around for a while and you can build on it easier. At least, that’s what the guy I got these from told me.” “And the silver thing?” “They call it Silver, easily enough. It’s in all of these things. Right about now you should be feeling…” It’s too late for him to finish as your senses numb and you black out. Just something to keep ya'll interested. Deadmeat5150 fucked around with this message at 01:53 on May 10, 2019 |
# ? May 10, 2019 01:37 |
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You wake up later sitting on a leather couch in an unfamiliar room with the rest of the band snoring beside you. Fairly loudly for a group of men without lungs. DS is sitting in his own chair wearing a pair of thick rimmed glasses and smoking a pipe. The thick book being read in one hand said ‘The Smashing of Johnsons: Zen and the Art of Dickpunching by C. K. Nocker’ in gold lettering down the spine. He looks up over his glasses and notices you awake. “Oh good, you’re back. Yeah, take a lot out of you, right? Anyway, I’ve got your ride on the roof. Wake up your chums and get going.” “How will we get in contact with you to let you know the mission is finished?” “Don’t worry about that, I’ll know.” “Ok, that’s not creepy.” With a few shoulder shakes the others get up, grumbling and complaining about their own silver figures. DS leads you to the far end of the mostly barren room to a stairwell that leads to the roof. Outside the air is crisp and smells like home, that cross between greasy and smoggy. Waiting on raised metal platform is an off-white helicopter with glowing neon pink trim. The blades on the rotors are not what you are used to seeing, however. Instead they look like stylized sword blades, complete with hilts attached to the central shaft. “Not many people like to ride a bladechopper, but I think it’s perfect. It’s the only vehicle I know of that has to fight a constant battle to stay in the sky, an endless fight against an implacable foe. And if it ever loses… boom. Just think, it has to beat a hole in the air and fall up.” “Dude, that really doesn’t make use want to ride in it.” “Don’t worry me ol’ bird, ‘ere. She’s a goa, real fastlike.” The pilot had hopped out of the bladechopper, all three feet of him. The greyish green skin and long ears marked him as definitely non-human. “That’s Donk, he’ll be flying you to the south port. See you guys later.” DS turns around and heads down the stairwell, slamming the door behind him. “Right, then. On the hop, let’s go. It’s a bit of a flight on outta ‘ere, take a rest if’n ya need ta.” An hour later you find yourself the only one awake. The ride is surprisingly smooth and quiet, yet again something defying your expectation. And the scenery has been wonderful, allowing you to put your new knowledge to the test. For instance, the twenty minutes it took to get out of the city and over the slums was shiny but rather boring. It was only when you caught a glimpse of the Titan’s Edge that you got a little excited. A massive stone axe had been slammed into the ground in eons past, and yet there was no canyon or crater. Half of one of the ‘blades’ was buried in the dirt rather seamlessly, while the other towered hundreds of feet into the air. Centuries of corrosion and weather had not touched the thing at all, although dirt had settled over time and grass grew along the length of the haft. The legend of it said that one of the Metal Gods had descended in order to slay an ancient Titan of Death, and that when the beast lay dying he sliced off its head in one blow and left the axe behind as a reminder of what happens to those who cross the gods. Further out you were treated to the expanse of grasslands that is the Elder Plains. Far below your chopper you were able to spy a herd of Duffalo, shaggy and hulking beasts with curled horns of chrome and a row of brass exhaust pipes running down their spine belching black smoke into the air. Circling the herd, hoping to find a weak member, is a pack of Blastynas. Hyena-like creatures with powerful metal jaws and rear legs that look like pneumatic pistons. Not to much later to actually see a rare Laser Panther, which you realize is exactly what the name says as you watch it BBQ a fast bird out of a tree with purple beams of light that flash from its eyes. You make a mental note to avoid those. Another few hours pass before you get to see the twin peaks of the Demonscream Mountains. Drozgag and Jirginnog were the names of the mountains and you would swear that sides of the mountains have been twisted into likenesses of a face in horrid pain. A deep gorge cuts between the mountains, through which a hot wind constantly blows from the desert on the other side, producing an eerie wailing sound. That’s not what gives the peaks their names, though. You know that deep inside their own peaks are the immortal demons themselves, tied to slabs of blessed black marble by chains of silver and gold, spikes of steel driven into their wrists and ankles to keep them still, while their always healing bodies are forever devoured by the carnivorous, many-armed Swollows that swarm the area. The sun begins to set as you see the coastline up ahead. It’s no wonder there’s only one real port on the southern end of Vanguard. Other than the wide, fat peninsula the rest of the landscape seems to be a dark wasteland or jagged rocks and sheer cliffs. Squatting at the tip of the only viable landing, like a vast, rusty zit, is the lawless trade hub known as Full Moon Anchorage. A true test of Libertarianism, Full Moon Anchorage was ruled by nobody although individual power lay in the hands of the few truly wealthy or strong individuals. It was a mishmash of cultures with modern and futuristic buildings squatting beside stone or wood structures. A tall iron wall spaced with towers and topped with blackened spikes surrounded the city and the only entrance was the thick pair of gates through which traffic of every kind was constantly flowing. The bladechopper drew no eyebrows after you flew over the unmanned walls and into a courtyard in the middle of the city. By this time everyone was awake and it was fairly amusing to see them with their faces pressed against the glass, trying to take everything in all at once. “Might as well get used to this, gents,” You say to them with a wry smile. “Mindfuckery is what this world seems to be all about. You wouldn’t believe the poo poo you slept through. Did you know there’s a place not too far from here called Black Falls Barrow? It’s got a blood waterfall that falls into an open hole in the roof of a cave and it where all kinds of nasty undead and death metal lovers hang out. loving wicked!” “Sounds sweet.” “Wouldn’t a blood waterfall just be a bloodfall?” “Probably, yeah, doesn’t matter. Let’s hop on out.” “‘Ere ya ladies go, ‘ope it’s to yer likin’. That there’s The Flabby Arms, one o’ the finest establishamentaries in this pigsty of a shitbucket town. Now piss off.” The goblin pilot climbs back aboard his craft and is gone back into the sky before you even have time to thank him. Everyone looks up at the strange looking hotel you apparently have been dropped off in front of. It’s as though a modern architect and a coked-out pirate got into an arm-wrestling contest in order to design the building, a contest that ended in a draw, but their design styles clashed so badly that they said “gently caress it!” halfway through and just did whatever. The towering building looks to have to real reason to exist other than to terrify anyone walking past with the possibility that it could collapse at any moment. “Yeah, that’s a big old bag of ‘Hell No’. Right?” What the gently caress now? You need to find a place to stay since it’s getting dark in an unfamiliar place, but you also need to hire someone to take you south to Dungeonia. This place looks like a rat turd on the outside, but DS said he took care of lodging. 1) gently caress it, let’s try The Flabby Arms. 2) Oh hell naw, there’s got to be some other places. 3) Sleep? Who needs sleep? We’re dead. Party time! 4) Stick to the mission, find a ship to take us south. 5) Other/Fill In Finally, it's out. I've had this kicking around in my head for a while, but life got in the way. Updates will be spotty for a while, we've got a few weeks of packing up and house hunting before moving a state over to be closer to my wife's parents. That plus the pressures of trying to move my insurance licenses over and find a job are going to mean little time for anything else. What little time I do get to myself may be spent blowing off some steam in CoX and writing piecemeal. Deadmeat5150 fucked around with this message at 05:18 on May 12, 2019 |
# ? May 12, 2019 05:16 |
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3 We're skellingtons, time to party.
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# ? May 13, 2019 07:09 |
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Turtlicious posted:3 We're skellingtons, time to party. Agreed, but it we are not Skellingtons, which is a revered family of philanthropist liches. We're more like skelecetaries, which are undead secretaries who play metal shows after hours.
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# ? May 13, 2019 15:46 |
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1. Mr Dick Smasher hasn't steered us wrong yet.
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# ? May 13, 2019 20:28 |
Cloud Potato posted:1. Mr Dick Smasher hasn't steered us wrong yet. This.
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# ? May 14, 2019 01:10 |
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Cloud Potato posted:1. Mr Dick Smasher hasn't steered us wrong yet. Agreed.
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# ? May 14, 2019 02:02 |
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Cloud Potato posted:1. Mr Dick Smasher hasn't steered us wrong yet.
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# ? May 14, 2019 11:22 |
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I hate to do this after it really just got started but I have a whole lotta poo poo hitting me all at once and it's taking a toll on my health and mental reserves. This is on indefinite hold.
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# ? May 23, 2019 16:16 |
Take care of you first and foremost buddy, nobody here will be mad at you for taking some time to get through the poo poo life's throwing at you right now.
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# ? May 23, 2019 16:43 |
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# ? Apr 26, 2024 17:45 |
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You've got this, man.
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# ? May 25, 2019 06:04 |