garden of the absolutes, only pure things can gain entrance... everything that exists outside of the garden is just echoes of what is inside.
Friday, December 10, 2010
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Conan is my Hero!
Well, last night in a tavern, a captain in the king's guard offered violence to the sweetheart of a young soldier, who naturally ran him through. But it seems there is some cursed law against killing guardsmen, and the boy and his girl fled away. It was bruited about that I was seen with them, and so today I was haled into court, and a judge asked me where the lad had gone. I replied that since he was a friend of mine, I could not betray him. Then the court waxed wrath, and the judge talked a great deal about my duty to the state, and society, and other things I did not understand, and bade me tell where my friend had flown.
By this time I was becoming wrathful myself, for I had explained my position. But I choked my ire and held my peace, and the judge squalled that I had shown contempt for the court, and that I should be hurled into a dungeon to rot until I betrayed my friend. So then, seeing they were all mad, I drew my sword and cleft the judge's skull; then I cut my way out of the court, and seeing the high constable's stallion tied near by, I rode for the wharfs, where I thought to find a ship bound for foreign parts.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Pissing Contest (or Pissing Wars) a Board Game
ok so here's the game, you have 1 - 4 players and you have a game board with a bunch of spots on it connected with lines.
each player chooses a dog, there's 3 kinds of dogs, small dog (fast, weak), medium dog (average speed and attack) and big dog (slow speed, powerful attacker)
ok so on the board there's a number of spots that are designated pissing areas (like a fire hydrant, a rock, a tree, etc. depending on which board you're playing on). the object of the game is to "own" all the pissing areas by being the last dog to piss on each spot.
the game works like this:
each dog has 3 "lives"
you get 1 movement dice if you're a big dog, 2 if you're medium, 3 if you're a small dog. you roll the dice to see how many spaces you can move
if someone lands on a space another dog is on, then its dog fight time! Each dog throws their dice (1 for small, 2 for medium, 3 for big) and the highest number wins. The losing dog loses 1 life then has two choices, fight back or retreat. Fighting restarts the fight where each dog throws their combat dice. Retreating means you go back to your starting spot, AND you lose all pissing spots to the person who defeated you. When you're out of lives, you're out of the game.
last one standing or first one to own all the pissing spots wins!
there can be various terrains, like backyard, junkyard, forest area, cattle ranch, etc. with different obstacles to diversify the game.
each player chooses a dog, there's 3 kinds of dogs, small dog (fast, weak), medium dog (average speed and attack) and big dog (slow speed, powerful attacker)
ok so on the board there's a number of spots that are designated pissing areas (like a fire hydrant, a rock, a tree, etc. depending on which board you're playing on). the object of the game is to "own" all the pissing areas by being the last dog to piss on each spot.
the game works like this:
each dog has 3 "lives"
you get 1 movement dice if you're a big dog, 2 if you're medium, 3 if you're a small dog. you roll the dice to see how many spaces you can move
if someone lands on a space another dog is on, then its dog fight time! Each dog throws their dice (1 for small, 2 for medium, 3 for big) and the highest number wins. The losing dog loses 1 life then has two choices, fight back or retreat. Fighting restarts the fight where each dog throws their combat dice. Retreating means you go back to your starting spot, AND you lose all pissing spots to the person who defeated you. When you're out of lives, you're out of the game.
last one standing or first one to own all the pissing spots wins!
there can be various terrains, like backyard, junkyard, forest area, cattle ranch, etc. with different obstacles to diversify the game.
Story 2 - The Bull
Quesero was a beast of great strength. Like many before him, he was doomed to a violent death from birth - to die at the hands of a matador for the entertainment of guests at the Tafalla Arena in Madrid, Spain. Every day he would pace his stall, waiting for when he could finally enter the ring to face his redeemer. There was honor in this death, he had believed. To die a true warrior was an opportunity to be cherished. However, sometimes the bull wasn't killed. There were bulls of legend that met their slayer head on and did not fall, but instead fell the matador in turn. The man would then be carted off on a stretcher or limp to safety, a victory for the bull. Occasionally the bull would kill the matador... that was the greatest victory of all. Most bulls were simply killed with little struggle while the crowd cheered and celebrated at the skill of the matador while the bull whimpered his last futile breath.
Quesero was half-asleep when he was called out and a man put a rope around his neck and began to tug. The time had finally come, his reckoning was here at long last. Quesero shook his head to clear his mind, the trainer, believing the bull resisted, lashed him across the back leaving a bloody line. The trainer then led him along and untied the rope before opening the steel gate. The sun blinded Quesero as it beamed down on him as he walked towards the exit of the tunnel. He closed his eyes in a squint as he trotted down the path towards the center, his fur gleamed in the sun, his muscles and arrogant stride gave him a certain majesty that momentarily silenced the fans. When the crowd began cheering again he felt like a king as he continued forward to meet his foe.
And then, finally, there he was: A man in a sequined shirt that glittered like firelight in the sun and wearing pants of pure white - in one hand he held out a red cape and waved it as the crowed oohed and ahhed, especially the children who gazed at the scene in terror and curiosity. In his other hand he held a blade of gleaming steel, long and slender. The bull fighter bowed to Quesero and Quesero lowered his head in response, snorting. Win or lose, Quesero knew this day was his last - a thought he kept as he circled the outer rim of the arena. As he picked up speed, the kicked up dirt made a small dust cloud that trailed him giving off the effect of great ferocity to the crowd. The matador's footwork was good though and he kept his body facing the bull, lest he be trod upon. Finally feeling the moment and seeing his opportunity, Quesero charged. The bull slashed with his horns to make contact with soft flesh, but the matador made a deft move and slipped the attack before getting a jab of his own in right below the ribs. He retracted his blade and blood blotted the ground. Quesero limped a retreat, and tried to muster up the strength and rage for another go. As he paced, a feeling came over him, if complex animal emotion could be translated into words this is how it would be described:
Quesero. You are a bull. You have no comprehension of the world around you, no way to even ponder the wonder of existence. You have been bred through thousands of generations by men who wanted to use you, your ancestors, your brothers, your fathers, your sons, for sport. They kill you for their pleasure and amusement. You have no way to understand what a crime this is, to understand the cruel fate of these circumstances inflicted upon you. You are an animal that can only live (and thus must live) in the moment. Right now is your time. Your last moment of life. You can go quietly, or you can let the world know that no matter how briefly, you exist and that you did not go quietly.
Quesero hesitated only slightly before rushing towards the matador and then broke to the right towards the wall. Fueled by a spirit of righteous indignation, he leaped as no other bull had leaped before (and may never again), clearing the wall before landing in the stands. The crowd fled in horror, screaming when Quesero drove into them like a freight train, sending bodies flying everywhere. He roared and flared, scattering grown men to the ground like they were rag dolls. He jumped the stairs and plunged into another group of screaming fans with great fury. Revenge! Revenge for the Bulls! Revenge for all!
"I EXIST" Quesero bellowed (in Bull language).
He then was shot by a tranquilizer gun.
life, whatever that is, faded to black.
The end.
Quesero was half-asleep when he was called out and a man put a rope around his neck and began to tug. The time had finally come, his reckoning was here at long last. Quesero shook his head to clear his mind, the trainer, believing the bull resisted, lashed him across the back leaving a bloody line. The trainer then led him along and untied the rope before opening the steel gate. The sun blinded Quesero as it beamed down on him as he walked towards the exit of the tunnel. He closed his eyes in a squint as he trotted down the path towards the center, his fur gleamed in the sun, his muscles and arrogant stride gave him a certain majesty that momentarily silenced the fans. When the crowd began cheering again he felt like a king as he continued forward to meet his foe.
And then, finally, there he was: A man in a sequined shirt that glittered like firelight in the sun and wearing pants of pure white - in one hand he held out a red cape and waved it as the crowed oohed and ahhed, especially the children who gazed at the scene in terror and curiosity. In his other hand he held a blade of gleaming steel, long and slender. The bull fighter bowed to Quesero and Quesero lowered his head in response, snorting. Win or lose, Quesero knew this day was his last - a thought he kept as he circled the outer rim of the arena. As he picked up speed, the kicked up dirt made a small dust cloud that trailed him giving off the effect of great ferocity to the crowd. The matador's footwork was good though and he kept his body facing the bull, lest he be trod upon. Finally feeling the moment and seeing his opportunity, Quesero charged. The bull slashed with his horns to make contact with soft flesh, but the matador made a deft move and slipped the attack before getting a jab of his own in right below the ribs. He retracted his blade and blood blotted the ground. Quesero limped a retreat, and tried to muster up the strength and rage for another go. As he paced, a feeling came over him, if complex animal emotion could be translated into words this is how it would be described:
Quesero. You are a bull. You have no comprehension of the world around you, no way to even ponder the wonder of existence. You have been bred through thousands of generations by men who wanted to use you, your ancestors, your brothers, your fathers, your sons, for sport. They kill you for their pleasure and amusement. You have no way to understand what a crime this is, to understand the cruel fate of these circumstances inflicted upon you. You are an animal that can only live (and thus must live) in the moment. Right now is your time. Your last moment of life. You can go quietly, or you can let the world know that no matter how briefly, you exist and that you did not go quietly.
Quesero hesitated only slightly before rushing towards the matador and then broke to the right towards the wall. Fueled by a spirit of righteous indignation, he leaped as no other bull had leaped before (and may never again), clearing the wall before landing in the stands. The crowd fled in horror, screaming when Quesero drove into them like a freight train, sending bodies flying everywhere. He roared and flared, scattering grown men to the ground like they were rag dolls. He jumped the stairs and plunged into another group of screaming fans with great fury. Revenge! Revenge for the Bulls! Revenge for all!
"I EXIST" Quesero bellowed (in Bull language).
He then was shot by a tranquilizer gun.
life, whatever that is, faded to black.
The end.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
short story 1 - The Bog
The lake Chuck lived on was not always a lake, it was once a swamp. In the 1800's the shipping industry flooded the swamp with water from the great lakes to the north in order to support a national canal system - before technology made them obsolete, the canals were the fastest and most efficient want to transport goods. When the swamp was filled with water, a small island floated to the surface on the north side of the lake. It was an island made of bog pushed down by a slow moving glacier drifting southward at the end of the last ice age, flattening northern Ohio in it's wake before finally melting. The bog island was unique to the region because it had flora that was only found far to the north in Wisconsin and Canada. Because of the fragility of the place and fear of erosion, any human contact with the island was strictly forbidden.
Chuck stared out from his dock one evening and pondered. Every day he looked at the island with mild curiosity but on this day, his musing led him into an inevitable conclusion... he decided he HAD TO GO THERE. Someday nature would have its way and the island would be gone forever - all things pass, and so too would his opportunity to set foot on this ancient sacred place. Knowing the noise from his boat motor would draw the suspicion and ire of his neighbors, he slipped over a few houses down where someone had an old sail boat. The sail boat was not well-kept but it would suffice to provide him silent transport to the island.
There was no moon that night as the sail billowed out against the wind and the boat quickly scooted through the darkened water, only the stars lit the way. It was about a 10 minute voyage to the island before Chuck finally arrived at the lone dock on the island, a dock that had a large sign in the center of it that said "TRESPASSING STRICTLY FORBIDDEN BY STATE LAW" on it. Chuck tied a rope around the sign post to secure the boat and disembarked. There was a small wooden boardwalk that led into the heart of the island so he began walking along it. He had never been, nor knew anyone that had ever been on the island so it was all unexplored terrain for him and in the darkness he was cursing himself for not bringing a flashlight. Not wanting the entire expedition to be a waste and a lost cause, he decided to go just a little further in search of something to make the felonies he committed (theft, trespassing) worthwhile.
The further he got in, the thicker the foliage was and the darker it got. Soon he could only stay on the boardwalk by touch and sound, the noise of his shoe on hard wood became reassuring to him. Why was he doing this? Where was he going? He did not know. He kept walking into the darkness though. Before long he arrived at the end of the path. Just to test, he placed a single foot on the ground and his foot sank into the bog and he felt the cold dampness of the lake soaking his shoe. Though he sank in a bit, it felt quite firm and he felt confident the island would hold him. He continued walking when suddenly the bog gave way and he fell in. He began to sink but as he struggled against it, the bog acted like quicksand and he sank further in. Quickly he was in to about his neck. He felt as though he were encased in concrete and he could not move at all. Fear crept into his mind as he realized no one knew where he was and he was so far off the trail and the trees and bushes were so dense he would not be seen from the air. Would Chuck die?
DOES CHUCK DIE?
who cares?
The end.
Chuck stared out from his dock one evening and pondered. Every day he looked at the island with mild curiosity but on this day, his musing led him into an inevitable conclusion... he decided he HAD TO GO THERE. Someday nature would have its way and the island would be gone forever - all things pass, and so too would his opportunity to set foot on this ancient sacred place. Knowing the noise from his boat motor would draw the suspicion and ire of his neighbors, he slipped over a few houses down where someone had an old sail boat. The sail boat was not well-kept but it would suffice to provide him silent transport to the island.
There was no moon that night as the sail billowed out against the wind and the boat quickly scooted through the darkened water, only the stars lit the way. It was about a 10 minute voyage to the island before Chuck finally arrived at the lone dock on the island, a dock that had a large sign in the center of it that said "TRESPASSING STRICTLY FORBIDDEN BY STATE LAW" on it. Chuck tied a rope around the sign post to secure the boat and disembarked. There was a small wooden boardwalk that led into the heart of the island so he began walking along it. He had never been, nor knew anyone that had ever been on the island so it was all unexplored terrain for him and in the darkness he was cursing himself for not bringing a flashlight. Not wanting the entire expedition to be a waste and a lost cause, he decided to go just a little further in search of something to make the felonies he committed (theft, trespassing) worthwhile.
The further he got in, the thicker the foliage was and the darker it got. Soon he could only stay on the boardwalk by touch and sound, the noise of his shoe on hard wood became reassuring to him. Why was he doing this? Where was he going? He did not know. He kept walking into the darkness though. Before long he arrived at the end of the path. Just to test, he placed a single foot on the ground and his foot sank into the bog and he felt the cold dampness of the lake soaking his shoe. Though he sank in a bit, it felt quite firm and he felt confident the island would hold him. He continued walking when suddenly the bog gave way and he fell in. He began to sink but as he struggled against it, the bog acted like quicksand and he sank further in. Quickly he was in to about his neck. He felt as though he were encased in concrete and he could not move at all. Fear crept into his mind as he realized no one knew where he was and he was so far off the trail and the trees and bushes were so dense he would not be seen from the air. Would Chuck die?
DOES CHUCK DIE?
who cares?
The end.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Gilgamesh
What you seek, you shall never find.
For when the Gods made man,
They kept immortality for themselves.
Fill your belly.
Day and night make merry,
Let Days be full of joy.
Love the child that holds your hand.
Let your wife delight in your embrace.
For these alone are the concerns of man.
--The Epic of Gilgamesh
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
story idea
i have this idea for a short story - this old farmer guy and his hound dog stumbles upon a freaky satanist doing a ritual in the middle of the woods, the satanist threatens the farmer and attacks him, and in the struggle, the farmer blasts the guy
and kills him. Afterward he notices in the middle of a drawn on the ground pentagram, there's two little baby demonic creatures. He takes them home with him and feeds them meat and stuff and they are pretty crazy and destructive but sorta affectionate towards him and sleep curled up next to the hound dog.
Anyways, it turns out the satanist guy was literally the anti-christ, and the two demonlings are new-born world destroyers meant to help him end the world but instead they just end up obnoxious pets of an old farmer.
Anyways, it turns out the satanist guy was literally the anti-christ, and the two demonlings are new-born world destroyers meant to help him end the world but instead they just end up obnoxious pets of an old farmer.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
I don't care about anything
except peace and quiet and something pretty to look at and maybe a cigar after a nice meal. Of course in order to earn this time of solitude and rest I must work and argue and toil and struggle, but when I think about life its really just me, content, alone, thinking and enjoying being alive.
I often tell people I would enjoy living alone stranded on a deserted island. I think they think I am joking. I am not. It is the life. I would hunt my own food, eat, build my home, explore, enjoy nature. At night I would look at the stars and wonder about the mysteries of the universe. I don't care about anything, I don't like pretending I care.
Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
infinite tower story ideas
DSericYo: ok so its the guitar playing turtle skeleton, the mexican dude vocalist, and the 3rd member of the band is a trumpet playing ghost. the ghost can possess bodies for short periods of time so he needs a fresh body when they go to play a gig
(09:48:01) psyonicrutabaga2: Nice
(09:48:24) DSericYo: also the problem is that they were smuggling *something* across the border for a big $score
(09:48:40) DSericYo: and the fuzz busted them so they had to ditch the cargo
(09:49:03) DSericYo: and the mobster that hired them needs the money or he's gonna kill them all
(09:49:23) DSericYo: he takes a vaccuum and vacuums the ghost and sticks him in a glass bottle as a hostage
(09:49:43) DSericYo: threatening to toss him off the side of the infinite tower if he doesn't get the gold in 3 days
(09:50:39) DSericYo: this is a secret but the infinite tower is the tower the little odd men (cyrocade's minions) are building down the bottomless pit
(09:51:05) DSericYo: and theya re like 1000 stories down
(09:51:23) DSericYo: no one there had seen the sun or stars for hundreds of years
(09:52:06) DSericYo: there's like a whole world with different societies as you travel down the tower
(09:53:51) DSericYo: oh and the turtle is an alcoholic asshole
(09:54:05) DSericYo: but damn can he play the guitar
(09:54:36) DSericYo: i need some help working out the details of how the story goes though
(09:57:20) psyonicrutabaga2: Yeah?
(09:57:34) DSericYo: yeah like what do they do to get the money?
(09:57:43) DSericYo: i was thinking there's some battle of the bands type thing
(09:58:28) DSericYo: with the mobster attending with the jar
(10:02:59) psyonicrutabaga2: They play "el sabor de la corazon del fuego"
(10:04:02) psyonicrutabaga2: A song that makes women get all gooey
(10:04:34) psyonicrutabaga2: Sanchos secret song
(10:04:42) psyonicrutabaga2: Taught to their singer
(10:05:40) psyonicrutabaga2: If the mobster was a huge fat bitch
(10:07:03) psyonicrutabaga2: It melts her frozen heart
(11:25:52) DSericYo: well i kinda see it as old comrades, like they aren't new to the tower, they've been kicking it around getting in trouble and going on little adventures for a couple hundred years
(11:27:03) psyonicrutabaga2: K
(11:29:52) psyonicrutabaga2: Once I get a good footing with the characters and setting I'm golden
(11:30:06) psyonicrutabaga2: Tugs will be easy
(11:30:26) psyonicrutabaga2: Mort is harder
(11:30:42) psyonicrutabaga2: For lack of a better name
(11:30:48) DSericYo: sounds good to me
(11:31:02) psyonicrutabaga2: Like
(11:31:11) psyonicrutabaga2: A simple bandito
(11:31:43) psyonicrutabaga2: And mariachi
(11:31:53) psyonicrutabaga2: The ghost
(11:31:59) psyonicrutabaga2: Orozco
(11:32:21) psyonicrutabaga2: Odele pinchi muertos!!!
(11:33:43) DSericYo: lol
(11:34:01) DSericYo: orozco i picture as like
(11:34:04) psyonicrutabaga2: Dude
(11:34:15) DSericYo: a big goofy bastard
(11:34:21) psyonicrutabaga2: I'm gonna donate some side characters
(11:34:28) psyonicrutabaga2: Dead esses
(11:34:39) psyonicrutabaga2: vatos
(11:34:40) DSericYo: we can have living people too
(11:34:50) DSericYo: and it doesnt have to stick to only mexican themed
(11:34:50) DSericYo: like
(11:35:00) DSericYo: ok lemme give the backstory to the tower
(11:35:02) DSericYo: so it can make sense
(11:35:08) DSericYo: have we talked about it before?
(11:35:10) psyonicrutabaga2: K
(11:35:19) psyonicrutabaga2: Maybe
(11:35:26) DSericYo: ok basically
(11:37:38) DSericYo: there's a bottomless pit somewhere in the universe
(11:37:55) DSericYo: for intents and purposes, lets call it hell, but its not really hell
(11:38:05) DSericYo: you die, you get tossed into the pit
(11:38:19) DSericYo: lost for eternity
(11:38:23) DSericYo: until
(11:38:35) DSericYo: the odd little men from cyrocade lore stumble upon it
(11:38:43) DSericYo: and are like
(11:38:45) DSericYo: hmmmmm
(11:39:00) DSericYo: and begin building a structure
(11:39:02) DSericYo: downwards
(11:39:14) DSericYo: they are trying to build to the bottom
(11:39:48) DSericYo: so imagine like a massive shanty town built down a bottomless pit
(11:39:57) DSericYo: and its been under construction
(11:39:58) DSericYo: for
(11:40:06) psyonicrutabaga2: So further down the tower is all scaffolding
(11:40:08) DSericYo: 10,000 years
(11:40:18) psyonicrutabaga2: Nice
(11:40:36) DSericYo: and people that have been thrown down the pit
(11:40:41) psyonicrutabaga2: Up towards the top its more civilized or what
(11:40:44) DSericYo: have been caught in nets, etc
(11:41:01) psyonicrutabaga2: Maybe that's how mort gets out
(11:41:05) DSericYo: and now populate the cities that have developed over the decades and centuries
(11:41:11) DSericYo: yeah
(11:41:22) DSericYo: towards the top is like old europe
(11:41:32) psyonicrutabaga2: He's in a side chamber when they break through
(11:41:33) DSericYo: century long dynasties
(11:41:52) DSericYo: kings, rules, etc.
(11:41:55) DSericYo: as you go further down
(11:41:57) DSericYo: its more like
(11:42:00) DSericYo: the "new world"
(11:42:01) DSericYo: mexico
(11:42:03) DSericYo: pirates
(11:42:05) DSericYo: old west
(11:42:20) psyonicrutabaga2: Car
(11:42:25) psyonicrutabaga2: Brb
(11:42:40) DSericYo: there's gonna be various elevators and lifts in various states of disrepair
(11:42:58) DSericYo: and the genres of the different levels are going to be very distinct and contrasting in styles
(11:44:29) DSericYo: we dont necessarily have to have the band go through them all
(11:44:38) DSericYo: but thats just for reference to you
(11:44:48) DSericYo: cause we can tell multiple stories about this tower
(11:45:33) DSericYo: i think the cyrocade will be known as the architech of the tower
(11:45:45) DSericYo: like a legendary mythological figure
(11:45:52) DSericYo: he will probably never actually show up
(09:48:01) psyonicrutabaga2: Nice
(09:48:24) DSericYo: also the problem is that they were smuggling *something* across the border for a big $score
(09:48:40) DSericYo: and the fuzz busted them so they had to ditch the cargo
(09:49:03) DSericYo: and the mobster that hired them needs the money or he's gonna kill them all
(09:49:23) DSericYo: he takes a vaccuum and vacuums the ghost and sticks him in a glass bottle as a hostage
(09:49:43) DSericYo: threatening to toss him off the side of the infinite tower if he doesn't get the gold in 3 days
(09:50:39) DSericYo: this is a secret but the infinite tower is the tower the little odd men (cyrocade's minions) are building down the bottomless pit
(09:51:05) DSericYo: and theya re like 1000 stories down
(09:51:23) DSericYo: no one there had seen the sun or stars for hundreds of years
(09:52:06) DSericYo: there's like a whole world with different societies as you travel down the tower
(09:53:51) DSericYo: oh and the turtle is an alcoholic asshole
(09:54:05) DSericYo: but damn can he play the guitar
(09:54:36) DSericYo: i need some help working out the details of how the story goes though
(09:57:20) psyonicrutabaga2: Yeah?
(09:57:34) DSericYo: yeah like what do they do to get the money?
(09:57:43) DSericYo: i was thinking there's some battle of the bands type thing
(09:58:28) DSericYo: with the mobster attending with the jar
(10:02:59) psyonicrutabaga2: They play "el sabor de la corazon del fuego"
(10:04:02) psyonicrutabaga2: A song that makes women get all gooey
(10:04:34) psyonicrutabaga2: Sanchos secret song
(10:04:42) psyonicrutabaga2: Taught to their singer
(10:05:40) psyonicrutabaga2: If the mobster was a huge fat bitch
(10:07:03) psyonicrutabaga2: It melts her frozen heart
(11:25:52) DSericYo: well i kinda see it as old comrades, like they aren't new to the tower, they've been kicking it around getting in trouble and going on little adventures for a couple hundred years
(11:27:03) psyonicrutabaga2: K
(11:29:52) psyonicrutabaga2: Once I get a good footing with the characters and setting I'm golden
(11:30:06) psyonicrutabaga2: Tugs will be easy
(11:30:26) psyonicrutabaga2: Mort is harder
(11:30:42) psyonicrutabaga2: For lack of a better name
(11:30:48) DSericYo: sounds good to me
(11:31:02) psyonicrutabaga2: Like
(11:31:11) psyonicrutabaga2: A simple bandito
(11:31:43) psyonicrutabaga2: And mariachi
(11:31:53) psyonicrutabaga2: The ghost
(11:31:59) psyonicrutabaga2: Orozco
(11:32:21) psyonicrutabaga2: Odele pinchi muertos!!!
(11:33:43) DSericYo: lol
(11:34:01) DSericYo: orozco i picture as like
(11:34:04) psyonicrutabaga2: Dude
(11:34:15) DSericYo: a big goofy bastard
(11:34:21) psyonicrutabaga2: I'm gonna donate some side characters
(11:34:28) psyonicrutabaga2: Dead esses
(11:34:39) psyonicrutabaga2: vatos
(11:34:40) DSericYo: we can have living people too
(11:34:50) DSericYo: and it doesnt have to stick to only mexican themed
(11:34:50) DSericYo: like
(11:35:00) DSericYo: ok lemme give the backstory to the tower
(11:35:02) DSericYo: so it can make sense
(11:35:08) DSericYo: have we talked about it before?
(11:35:10) psyonicrutabaga2: K
(11:35:19) psyonicrutabaga2: Maybe
(11:35:26) DSericYo: ok basically
(11:37:38) DSericYo: there's a bottomless pit somewhere in the universe
(11:37:55) DSericYo: for intents and purposes, lets call it hell, but its not really hell
(11:38:05) DSericYo: you die, you get tossed into the pit
(11:38:19) DSericYo: lost for eternity
(11:38:23) DSericYo: until
(11:38:35) DSericYo: the odd little men from cyrocade lore stumble upon it
(11:38:43) DSericYo: and are like
(11:38:45) DSericYo: hmmmmm
(11:39:00) DSericYo: and begin building a structure
(11:39:02) DSericYo: downwards
(11:39:14) DSericYo: they are trying to build to the bottom
(11:39:48) DSericYo: so imagine like a massive shanty town built down a bottomless pit
(11:39:57) DSericYo: and its been under construction
(11:39:58) DSericYo: for
(11:40:06) psyonicrutabaga2: So further down the tower is all scaffolding
(11:40:08) DSericYo: 10,000 years
(11:40:18) psyonicrutabaga2: Nice
(11:40:36) DSericYo: and people that have been thrown down the pit
(11:40:41) psyonicrutabaga2: Up towards the top its more civilized or what
(11:40:44) DSericYo: have been caught in nets, etc
(11:41:01) psyonicrutabaga2: Maybe that's how mort gets out
(11:41:05) DSericYo: and now populate the cities that have developed over the decades and centuries
(11:41:11) DSericYo: yeah
(11:41:22) DSericYo: towards the top is like old europe
(11:41:32) psyonicrutabaga2: He's in a side chamber when they break through
(11:41:33) DSericYo: century long dynasties
(11:41:52) DSericYo: kings, rules, etc.
(11:41:55) DSericYo: as you go further down
(11:41:57) DSericYo: its more like
(11:42:00) DSericYo: the "new world"
(11:42:01) DSericYo: mexico
(11:42:03) DSericYo: pirates
(11:42:05) DSericYo: old west
(11:42:20) psyonicrutabaga2: Car
(11:42:25) psyonicrutabaga2: Brb
(11:42:40) DSericYo: there's gonna be various elevators and lifts in various states of disrepair
(11:42:58) DSericYo: and the genres of the different levels are going to be very distinct and contrasting in styles
(11:44:29) DSericYo: we dont necessarily have to have the band go through them all
(11:44:38) DSericYo: but thats just for reference to you
(11:44:48) DSericYo: cause we can tell multiple stories about this tower
(11:45:33) DSericYo: i think the cyrocade will be known as the architech of the tower
(11:45:45) DSericYo: like a legendary mythological figure
(11:45:52) DSericYo: he will probably never actually show up
Sunday, May 2, 2010
everything is murdered and mutilated forever.
we can wave a white flag but there can be no surrender... the universe doesn't care
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Those games we play
This is a story set amongst a group of people who are eternal. "Eternity is a long time..." "Do you know what I've been in my lifetime? Everything." Imagine the boredom and madness from living forever!?!?
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Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Infinite odd little men
Ok so there is a bottomless pit and the odd little men find it. They only have one resource: infinite odd little men. So they send a few thousand over the side to investigate but they all just vanish into the darkness so an operation is set into place to build a ladder down the hole, they build structure after structure and eventually there are towns and mini societies of odd little men all working towards the goal of finding the secret to the bottomless pit, and its been going on forever and there's infinite odd men and so the structures going downward go down *quite far*
Its like ants always unrelenting building and building and building, if something collapses they rebuild it, if a part falls off they remake it. They are like this with everything!
Reality and absurdism - the infinite hoard are all nihilists and they have subjected themselves to the cyrocade's whims because he stands alone as the way to end the charade once and for all. They do everything in their power to help him in every possible way because the infinite odd little men believe he is their only way to destroy reality once and for all, and because he's crazy and evil and absurd they end up doing a lot of really insane stuff along the way.
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Its like ants always unrelenting building and building and building, if something collapses they rebuild it, if a part falls off they remake it. They are like this with everything!
Reality and absurdism - the infinite hoard are all nihilists and they have subjected themselves to the cyrocade's whims because he stands alone as the way to end the charade once and for all. They do everything in their power to help him in every possible way because the infinite odd little men believe he is their only way to destroy reality once and for all, and because he's crazy and evil and absurd they end up doing a lot of really insane stuff along the way.
Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile
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