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You are one of the top Problem Sleuths in the city. Solicitations for your service are numerous in quantity. Compensation, adequate. It is a balmy summer evening. You are feeling particularly hard boiled tonight.
You don't know why you are assuming the door will be locked. You don't usually keep the door to your office locked. Nonetheless, a guy this hard boiled doesn't go messing around with totally unmanly things like knobs.
The most plainly obvious course of action is to call a locksmith. You examine the phone. While it appears to be hooked up to an active phone line, the rotary dial and receiver cord are both missing. You won't be talking to anyone on this phone!
You re-equip your GUN so you can blow a hole in the lock to open the door.
It looks like your GUN only has 1 BULLET(S) left. Are you sure you want to use it in this way? You might need it in case you have to off yourself later.
It is a business card for "Busts-R-Us". Probably a brothel, considering the lame double-entendre slogan, and the phone number, which if turned upside-down, spells "BOOBIES".
You put the BUSTS-R-US CARD in your inventory. You also put the phone upright and back on its hook to make sure you don't miss any important calls from would-be clients.
No wonder the door won't open. Blocking it is an enormous and magnificent bust of Ben Stiller in his role as Starsky in the 2004 retro-mania comedy remake of Starsky and Hutch.
Lying on the floor appears to be an unfortunate bystander, an employee of Busts-R-Us. He was polishing the bust right in front of your door for some reason.
You face EAST in the room to look out the window. Bright daylight floods the room through the glass. You've always been a stickler for natural light. This is the only source of light in the room.
What makes this particularly strange is the fact that it is 10 o'clock in the evening.
It's the view from your third floor office. You gaze abstractedly at the commotion below. Same scene, same faces every day. It's like it hardly ever changes. Not that you can afford to pay much attention to scenery, with your mind wrapped around the latest problem to sleuth, and your lips, around your flask.
Now facing SOUTH, you pause to marvel at the beauty of your office wall mural celebrating ethnic diversity. You had it commissioned some time ago by a promising young artist. Best $11,000 you ever spent!
It appears to be another business card. At a glance, one might think it was a calling card for a lady of the night named "Muriel" with a typo in her name, given the poor spelling exhibited elsewhere.
But on closer inspection, it is more likely a misspelling for "mural", given the smudged-out pun about walls. The suggestion in the phone number is probably regarding the old coat of paint rather than anyone's clothes.
It's an easy enough mistake to make, though. You feel sorry for anyone who at any point in the past may have called while under the wrong impression.
You stash the MADAME MUREL CARD in your inventory and set about making a really cool fort in your office! It is complete with a front step and a chimney. You are really proud of your craftsmanship.
This is what being a hard boiled problem sleuth is all about. It's about being a strong, silent type, oozing with confidence, charisma, and other fine qualities such as not being trapped in your own office. It's about having a working phone. A real desk. Not one, but two steak dinners. And some hysterical broad on the line, yackin' about some fella she's got troubles with. It's always the same thing with dames. You comfort yourself in your sublime fantasy by now and then saying things into the phone such as, "Now calm down a second, toots..." and "Hey, take it easy, sweetheart. I can barely understand a word you're sayin'..."
RING-RING.
Your call is rudely interrupted by a ringing noise. It can't be the phone, because you're already on it!
You pick up the phone and mutter some impatient greetings into the useless receiver. There is no response. Looks like you just lost another client to technical difficulties.
The window comes off the wall altogether. On closer examination, it seems to be a false window with a picture inside it. The picture is lit from within, sort of like a sophisticated light box.
The false window is way too big to carry around, stupid!
But you did find a CURTAIN ROD just under the top edge. You never did get around to putting up drapes. Then again, it never did make much sense to cover up the only source of light in your office.
You enter the SEQUENCE OF NUMERALS from the PIECE OF PAPER. The combination works!
However, instead of opening the safe, the dial has simply popped open to reveal a keyhole. It looks like it requires a key that looks more like a house key or a car key, rather than one of those old fashioned looking keys which tend to be littered all over video games, and which you are quite sure you have never once seen lying around in your office.
You unplug the false window, which is probably burning through electricity with its powerful fluorescent bulbs and strange spatial warping properties. You're not made of money!
Gadzooks! It's another urban mural. This one is particularly unpleasant. You have a feeling it might have been placed there just to annoy you.
You hear a voice from the other side. It's hard to tell what it is saying, but you think you can make out the words "toots" and "sweatheart" now and then.
It's hard to tell how far away the mural is. The clown's eyes are so close together, you can only see through one at a time, limiting your depth perception. You wonder what kind of freak this painting was made for.
If only you had some sort of thin, extendable implement to poke through the hole to tell how far away it is.
You shout, but he cannot hear you. The walls may be too thick, or he is just engrossed in his conversation. It sounds like he is arguing over a misunderstanding about the nature of the services provided by Busts-R-Us, and an alarmingly large bill for those services.
In the darkness, you stub your toe on the false safe cover. You utter more profanity.
The key which you can't actually see, and don't actually know is there, jingled a bit. You'll have to throw something heavier against the door if you want to knock it loose.
You take the cinderblock which was formerly your fort's front step. You decided you could stand to part with it, since you've been stubbing your toe on it constantly since you built it.
You contemplate throwing it at the door, but something occurs to you first. You don't want to knock the keys on the floor and not be able to reach them. (re: the sunglasses fiasco) You'd better be prepared to catch them in something after you throw it.
You keep the hidden recording device in your office to record anything said that might be incriminating. Unfortunately, the only incriminating statements it recorded were likely made by yourself.
You remember you're pissed off at Ace Dick, and in addition to which, you haven't been able to pee once in the 13 and a half hours you've been locked in your office. You decide to exact revenge by unleashing a torrent of urine through one of the painting holes, preferably while he is spying on you.
Unfortunately, your aim isn't that good, and you don't even come close to getting pee through the holes. The painting is now a smelly mess.
You enter your secret chamber. It's a dark alcove you use to store a few modest valuables, and duck into whenever you're on a case and things start to get too hot to handle (which is never).
The dumbwaiter goes down a little bit, then stops. This is as far as it goes.
The interior is somewhat illuminated from light coming in through a slit on the wall you're facing. It looks like you can slip objects through it, as long as they are narrow enough.
It's Ace Dick's office again. He is still on the phone and sounds really surly. He seems quite upset about a mixup involving large stone busts, instead of some other service he believed he was getting.
Feelings of dejection overwhelm you. You are tired of being shown up by your rival. He gets everything. All the good cases. The women. The ability to open his office door. You'd wager he even enjoys the lion's share of the candy corn.
Suddenly, you are entirely dissatisfied with the condition of these horns. It is an absolute disgrace. You won't stand for it.
You set about polishing the instruments, but it seems your IMAGINATION is too high to conduct normal day-to-day activities. You topple some of the horns. The clarinet breaks.
If only there were a place that could serve as a proper outlet for such a high degree of IMAGINATION until the condition passed.
You answer the phone in the best Depression-era fast-talking way possible. On the other line is a hysterical dame.
You tell her to calm down and give you the skinny on what all hubbub is about. Her answers are vague and one-dimensional. The case is quickly going nowhere.
You hear noises behind the door. It sounds like swing music, and riotous times being had. Whoever is in this office probably has a terrific imagination!
You experience the lingering effects of your IMAGINATION. The stat remains at the same level, but no longer affords you its advantages. However, you remain just as useless in the real world!
You are going to need to figure out a way to sober up fast.
You use the magnetic tape to form a lasso. Maybe you can reel in your belongings this way.
However, you think the tape-lasso is way too light and flimsy to throw out the window with any significant distance or accuracy. You'll need something to weigh it down.
It looks like there are two holes in the mural. They are spaced far apart, just wide enough for someone with sensible human anatomy to look through with both eyes.
It is the office of yet another one of your competitors, Pickle Inspector. He looks dazed, as if perhaps he's been trapped in his office for some time.
There are strange glass containers in the corner. You wonder if there might be a business card (worded professionally, of course) for a glass blower somewhere in his office. Perhaps taped to something, like a cinderblock, or the back of an elf painting.
You suddenly hear noises coming from Ace Dick's office. You figure as long as your office is dark, you might as well check on him through the clown holes.
The whores tied Ace Dick up in a chair and stole his phone. The Huggy Bear bust is cracked open, and the treasure which was undoubtedly stashed inside has been stolen too. He was probably tortured for the information.
The reel begins to turn, pulling the tape taught. The cinderblock below does not budge. If the tape is re-tied to a lighter object, it will likely be pulled in through the window automatically.
You begin to question this feud you've been embroiled in with your neighbor for so long. After all, he did just give you the number for some honest to God whores, even if they did ultimately rob you. He also just helped you escape. Maybe it's time to bury the hatchet and help him out of his office.
You feel you should get some supplies from your safe first, though. If only you could remember the combination.
The bust crashed through the window, knocking out an employee of Madame Murel. He was wheeling a portable scaffold into place to prepare for some more mural work. He looks like he's in bad shape now.
The Hutch head cracked open, exposing riches.
It looks like one of the whores may have taken Starsky's sunglasses.
The scaffolding is jammed in place! It seems the brake for the wheels was triggered after it came to a stop. You can't push it away either. The top just bumps up against the ceiling. There's no climbing out of the window with your portly frame because of the scaffold bars.
Unless someone comes to help you, or you find a blowtorch to melt through the bars, you're probably not getting out of this office any time soon. Nice try though!
You topple backwards on to your particle board desk. It was supported by a couple of smaller busts, including one of your favorites, Snoop Dogg from Soul Plane.
You would stand on the chair, but you don't think it's quite high enough. Besides, it is now built into your fort, and there's obviously no going back.
You find Problem Sleuth on the street. He is rounding up items scattered on the street and tying them to the magnetic tape.
It looks like he brought down a LARGE BAG OF CANDY CORN from his office. He may have considered tying it to the tape, but it is too heavy to be hauled up through the window. It probably will need to be hauled up by something stronger, like a rope. Perhaps one slung around a pulley...
You don't know Pickle Inspector's number, or if he even has a phone. Besides, your rotary dial appears to have strange symbols on it rather than numbers.
You vaguely recall seeing somewhere the sequence of symbols, STAR - HEART - HORSESHOE. However, you can't quite remember the symbols STAR - HEART - HORSESHOE. You will need the piece of paper with STAR - HEART - HORSESHOE written on it if you wish to remember the sequence STAR - HEART - HORSESHOE.
But before you can pry any off, the door swings open, away from the boards. It seems the boards never actually served to obstruct the door in the first place.
You examine your surroundings. Your door is blocked by something. Judging from the marks on the door, it looks like you attempted to open it with some sort of weapon.
Armed with the MACHINE GUN, you are an unstoppable murdering machine. The heavy weapon is perfect for sating that burning desire to fill something with hot lead.
There are a couple of stills. One is for making illicit liquor during the prohibition era. Another is for making another sort of substance, possibly also illicit. All of the liquor appears to have been stolen!
There are some HANDGUN BULLET(S) on the floor. There is also a target painted on the ceiling for some reason.
Loud swing music and lively footsteps are heard from the room above.
It appears to be a storage room for various instruments. Mysteriously, most of the instruments have been plundered from the room. Hung on the wall are portraits of some legendary jazz musicians. You regard them with awe.
Loud swing music and lively footsteps are heard from the room above.
The first bottle contains ILLICIT MOONSHINE. The second bottle contains HOT SAUCE. The third bottle contains your own EXCREMENT saved up from prolonged office entrapment.
You would take a swig from one, but you seem to have misplaced your handy DRINKING IMPLEMENT.
The room above is a busy speakeasy. The clients boisterously enjoy illicit libations.
There is a bust of the speakeasy's owner, the MOBSTER KINGPIN. He is obviously the scourge of this pseudo-prohibition era universe. Nobody fucks with him.
You take a sip. It only marginally boosts your already naturally high IMAGINATION stat. You will need to consume a much more powerful form of liquor if you wish to boost it much further.
You duck into the fort to escape the freezing downpour.
You answer the phone in a hard boiled manner. You explain to the woman gruffly that you'd love to help her out, sweetheart, but you're up to your neck in all this weird puzzle shit. You hang up.
The other two, inspired by your magnificent PULCHRITUDE, rally around you as a leader and follow you toward the exit.
You stop them, reminding them that there is a monster on the street, and they are terribly ill-equipped for the battle. You will all need better armaments.
PROBLEM SLEUTH ACCRUED BATTLE TECHNIQUE: SLEUTH DIPLOMACY
PROBLEM SLEUTH CAN COMMUNE WITH THE FOLLOWING ANIMAL(S):
WEASELS
ACE DICK GAINED A LEVEL!
IMAGINATION: +0
PULCHRITUDE: +0
VIM: +6
ACE DICK INCREASED STOMACH CAPACITY BY 0.4 LITRES.
ACE DICK INCREASED STOMACH CAPACITY BY 0.5 LITRES.
ACE DICK INCREASED STOMACH CAPACITY BY 0.75 LITRES.
ACE DICK ACHIEVED LEVEL 18 STOMACH PROWESS.
ACE DICK ACCRUED COMBAT OPERANDI: BELLY OF THE WHALE
PICKLE INSPECTOR GAINED A LEVEL!
IMAGINATION: +10
PULCHRITUDE: +2
VIM: +0
PICKLE INSPECTOR LEARNED HOW TO IMAGINE THE FOLLOWING ITEM(S):
JAW BREAKER CANNON
GUMMY BEAR I.E.D.
PEANUT BRITTLE DUMBWAITER
ACE DICK GAINED A LEVEL!
IMAGINATION: +0
PULCHRITUDE: -3
VIM: +8
ACE DICK ACCRUED BATTLE TECHNIQUE: LV. 2 TRUFFLE SHUFFLE
It looks like an apology note from Ace Dick, or something approximating an apology. Maybe he wants to bury the hatchet after all these years. The mollification is likely on account of your high PULCHRITUDE stat.
This reminds you, now that Pickle Inspector's safe is closed, you can go read that note again.
You are a little disgusted to find a skeleton in your office. You nevertheless rifle through its belongings.
You take the BAG OF CANDY CORN. The HORNS are unsettling to you for some reason, so you leave them there. Same with the PEZ UZI, which suddenly seems just plain silly!
You have absolutely no idea how to solve this stupid puzzle and open the doors. As a last ditch effort, you think it's finally time to summon His Majesty.
He explains that his people face a critical impasse. They require your help.
He asks if you can spare exactly 1 HERO(ES) from your ranks to help them with their plight. It is imperative that this chosen one have an unusually high HEIGHT characteristic, for reasons that remain mysterious.
The elves are pacified by your gesture of good will.
ROPO, their leader, briefs you on a CRITICAL MISSION. You exhibit signs of being the chosen hero for this mission, of which has long been prophesied by elven lore.
The elves are grateful for your bravery. ROPO instructs you to first leave behind all of your material possessions. You cannot be burdened by such things on this quest of the spirit.
You dump everything from your inventory into the skylight, including your HAMMER, ELF TEARS, BUSINESS CARDS, and GAME CODE SHEET.
You drop your TOMMY GUN on the floor. You leave your CANDY CORN where it is, though.
You decide to bring your WINDOW with you, so you won't have to go up and down every time some goofball somewhere drops another cool item through the skylight.
After going through a lengthy and mostly pointless series of events, you have finally managed to reassemble your phone. Maybe you can finally call for help and end this nightmare.
However, you have been dialing the number for hours to no avail. There has been no answer. Maybe this time will be the charm?
The man on the phone answers in a hard boiled manner. He explains to you gruffly that he'd love to help you out, sweetheart, but he's up to his neck in all this weird puzzle shit. He hangs up.
Something mystical is happening with the elf bust. It appears to be momentarily phasing out of this temporal plane. It looks as though you can pass through it.
You hit your head against the rear of the cabinet, spilling all the medicine. You have a splitting headache. Maybe some of these pills will make you feel better.
You do not have the physical strength to close it! If only a tall brawny fella would stop by. Maybe that Pickle gentleman you remember reading about somewhere. Where was his card again?
As you push the mirror, you notice your own reflection. Your frayed nerves have caused you to look dreadful. Your makeup could use some freshening.
You return to the control room, but first you stop in your office and grab your window. You've grown fond of the thing and sort of missed it. You think it might be cool to have around for whatever reason.
The COUCH ARCHETYPIFIER is triggered by the interface afforded through your mighty TALLNESS attribute. It settles upon a couch suitable to your profile.
It's quite an elegant piece of furniture. It looks like your imagination could run wild with it.
You cautiously appraise the cosmetic accessory. There is nothing unusual about it at all, and there is no reason whatsoever for your HYSTERIA gauge to elevate.
It's a lustrous head of hair. You've always been pretty insecure about your baldness, and maybe it's finally time you did something to boost your self esteem.
Your imagination is like an untamed stallion bucking through the cavity in your imaginary skull. There are so many ways to deal with this beast, you can't possibly attempt them all.
One of your duplicates decides to achieve deity status. He now resides as the serene, omnipotent master of all realities. Godhead Pickle Inspector will no longer respond to any user commands other than "GPI: Fondly regard creation."
You take up the head of the negotiating table with high ranking officials from the four kingdoms. A map of disputed territory is handy. You listen with sage composure as the representatives list their countrymen's grievances.
The HOG PROVOST relates with measured dismay recent events which have thrown the entire kingdom out of balance. Recently, a mysterious visitor has been abetting clown-kind, helping them to slap the plump, unsuspecting rumps of innocent hogs. This has triggered a most pronounced and unwelcome escalation.
This situation is clearly a diplomatic mine field. One misstep could send the realm into oblivion. You will have to tread carefully, and choose your balance of alignments wisely.
PICKLE INSPECTOR EXCELLED TO NEW RATING: PIQUANT ARISTOCRAT
PICKLE INSPECTOR ACCRUED COMBAT OPERANDI: ABSTRACTED THOUGHT
ACE DICK GAINED A LEVEL!
IMAGINATION: ¿¼l&ÈÑ"
PULCHRITUDE: -0
VIM: +45
ACE DICK INCREASED STOMACH CAPACITY BY 3.3 LITRES.
ACE DICK INCREASED STOMACH CAPACITY BY 4.2 LITRES.
ACE DICK INCREASED STOMACH CAPACITY BY 6.8 LITRES.
ACE DICK ACHIEVED LEVEL 26 STOMACH PROWESS.
ACE DICK ACCRUED COMBAT OPERANDI: CHECK YO'SELF JONAH
ACE DICK EXCELLED TO NEW RATING: JOWLY ROUGHNECK
PICKLE INSPECTOR GAINED A LEVEL!
IMAGINATION: +1040
PULCHRITUDE: +2
VIM: PICKLE INSPECTOR HAS LOST HIS VIM GAUGE ENTIRELY
PICKLE INSPECTOR HAD LEARNED A NEW TYPE OF OGLE: DISQUIETING LEER
Pickle Inspector has woken from his fort-trance. He is now capable of functioning in reality while still maintaining a presence in the imaginary realm!
There is a big mess in here. It looks like there was a fun puzzle that you would have really enjoyed solving, especially that sudoku up there. Alas, to your eye, it has already been solved perfectly.
It looks like your candy corn liquored-up imaginary self is floating out there. You wonder what he wants.
Godhead Pickle Inspector thinks you should just relax and have fun, and not worry too much about it.
But if you need a refresher on what's actually going on with all these character duplicates and time-bending shenanigans, he offers the scoop.
There is still only one Problem Sleuth, who is off in some enchanted land sifting through a political crisis.
There is one real Pickle Inspector, and there were 8 imaginary Pickle Inspectors. All but two of them were killed, and one became GPI. The other one just split into two, and one of those just went back in time and died. The other one went into the future, possibly to reappear some time later. This means there is now one real Pickle Inspector in the present, and one imaginary one in the future.
There are 3 Ace Dicks, for the following reasons.
PS, AD and PI each have a lady counterpart, in accordance with deep seated mythology that dictates that any man secretly wishes to have sex with a female version of himself (re: Alvin and the Chipmunks, Mickey/Minnie, etc.) HD is PS's counterpart, NB is PI's, while AD is his own counterpart because he has a very poor imagination. So that's one duplicate AD, the one with the wig/helmet.
Also, a while ago AD used a game code to restore an earlier state in the game. That earlier version of AD went through the storefront and out the music box and became small AD. Meanwhile, the present AD went about his business in the present.
That makes 3 Ace Dicks, the normal one, the small one with the skull (though now normal-sized), and the girl one, who is not actually a girl.
PROBLEM SLEUTH EXCELLED TO NEW RATING: GUTSY CUSTOMER
PROBLEM SLEUTH ACCRUED BATTLE TECHNIQUE: LV. 10 SLEUTH DIPLOMACY
PROBLEM SLEUTH ACCRUED BATTLE TECHNIQUE: FAIR SHAKE
PROBLEM SLEUTH GAINED A LEVEL!
IMAGINATION: +45
PULCHRITUDE: +4520
VIM: +13
PROBLEM SLEUTH EXCELLED TO NEW RATING: GROOM TO THE HABERDASHER'S DAUGHTER
PROBLEM SLEUTH ACCRUED BATTLE TECHNIQUE: BRASS TACKS
PROBLEM SLEUTH ACCRUED COMBAT OPERANDI: SEPULCHRITUDE
THE KING DROPPED ARTIFACT(S):
(1) ROYAL CHEMISTRY SET
--CONTAINING--
(100) DROP(S) ELF TEARS
(100) DROP(S) WEASEL SNOT
(100) DROP(S) HOG SLOP
(100) DROP(S) PIE FILLING
(1) MUNITIONS BAG
--CONTAINING--
(1000) ROUND(S) HANDGUN AMMO
(10000) ROUND(S) TOMMY GUN AMMO
(100000) ROUND(S) MACHINE GUN AMMO
(1) BATTERY PACK
(1) EXTENTION CORD
You subject the skittish prohibition-era flapper to your vulgar overtures, making a number of unseemly references to her swell set of glad rags and swanky pair of gams. You suggest in no uncertain terms she is the berries and the bee's knees all in one.
You grab the OFFICE WINDOW and the SKYLIGHT, and head up to your office window.
You leave behind Problem Sleuth's OFFICE WINDOW because it is just too damn heavy and cumbersome.
You go to the skull slot room. The doors unfortunately are locked. It will probably take about double your own considerable strength to bust through them.
The Ace Dicks arrive just a little too late for the rowdy, ruff'n'tumble action they craved.
The Hired Muscle seems to have everything well in hand. He appears to have made use of the FRENCH DOORS for slicing beasts in half.
He is collecting all the spoils as he operates, snatching up the prized SPONDULICKS and MUTTONS as they appear. Problem Sleuth seems irked by this conduct, as it was not part of the implied operating agreement in his view. The Muscle's diplomatic skills could obviously use some polish.
Above the Ace Dicks, the RAPPORT PEACOCKS become even more vociferous.
The FRACTAL PROSPECTUS opens automatically to warn you that a fractaline matter/energy accretion has occurred.
You appear to be well within the limits of safety at a 4.1% accretion rate. The INFINITE SUMMATION HONEYBEE PROFESSOR seems pleased, and offers a sage Protip on responsible fractal management.
You levy the fee of 3000 SPONDULICKS and summon a trifecta of mystical warriors, the great masters of brass, Buttermilk Stubbs, Ramblin' Jackson, and Molasses Fatts!
They're all blind as a bat, and full of piss and vinegar.
You are so pissed at Death you throw your tea in disgust but you catch a whiff of it and it smells way too good to throw what is that darjeeling god it's delicious.
You invoke the ruddy, churlish spirit of your great patron spirit, Wilford Brimley. His crippling diabetic dysfunction is barely concealed beneath his fat moustachioed mug.
It looks like someone just shit in his dinner and he's none too pleased.
The BRIMLEYGEIST merges with your aura and you give the bum's rush to the feisty Jane -- put a bruise on that tomato, [i:d0022f8061]see?[/i:d0022f8061]
You are a little too late. Mobster Kingpin is safely tucked away in his fort. He is quite obviously impervious to all physical attacks in there. You'll have to find another way to get at him.
Someone has beaten the tar out of this fair dame. You wonder what sort of monster would lay his mitts on such a classy lookin' skirt. Your blood boils.
(Admiral Sleuth decides to call this the "Ace Deck" because he thinks it sounds clever. He also thinks he should be referred to as "Admiral Sleuth", if only for a little while.)
Captain Snoop falls back down and crushes one of the PROPULSION FANS.
MK is now technically ascending from the carried-over momentum of his previous descent. Demonhood is imminent.
You briefly pose as a team because shit seriously just got real again. This iron-faced thug has kept you under his thumb long enough. It's time to take him out.
You have a feeling you'll need help from as many allies as you can get for this epic struggle.
You pry the port and starboard-side SHIP PORTHOLES from the walls. It seems their batteries are now fully-charged and they may operate free from their outlets.
The bullets are deflected. There's no way you'll be able to inflict damage through that metal mask, let alone through his natural defenses at low BLOOD SUGAR levels.
For that matter, it looks like you won't even be able to feed him candy!
Before you throw the last one in, you pick up the CINDER BLOCKS from the base of your fort and throw them through the final PORTHOLE. You were tired of stubbing your toe on them anyway.
Finally, you toss the last PORTHOLE in the jacuzzi.
You fit your mates with appropriately nautical headwear.
Corsair Dick and Skipper Inspector seem quite pleased with the look!
(But seriously, we can keep referring to them all with the standard shorthand, PS, AD and PI, because really, this is going to be confusing if we start getting too literal!)
On the way back up, you spot a lovely SOMBRERO. Some careless fellow has left it here on the floor. You imagine the chap must be heartbroken about it. What a shame.
It looks like you can't execute your ultimate attack yet anyway.
You will need to collect enough PANG NECTAR to process into the amount of JOCOSE HONEY needed to fill your SUCKLE FLAGON before you can max out your COMB RAVE meter.
God it's almost like you've never played this game before.
The truck passes through the city's "SQUARE SHOULDER TOLLS" where a stiff DAIRY TAX is levied on local distributors.
You cannot pass through the booth because your vehicle is improperly shaped.
You catch a glimpse into the illuminated rear cabin opening. There appears to be a mustachioed man sitting there patiently. You wonder what the heck is going on here!
They busily set to work building an IMPETUS COMB to transmute the bitter nectar into sweet JOCOSE HONEY. Recently collected nectar is stored between the walls of the newly erected SIERPINSKI CELLS.
They labor under the instruction of their CHIEF ARCHITECT.
There is a TALL WINDOW in the booth. On the other side is your spectator, a MANNERLY HIGHBROW. He seems to have been waiting here patiently for a while.
There does not appear to be any glass in the window. On the other side, a coin-operated meter ticks down. The Highbrow has likely supplied it with a spondulick or two for his viewing pleasure.
The gutterpipe projects you through the MOTION PICTURE PROJECTOR, which is currently showing a BURLESQUE FLAPPER ACT in an empty theater.
However, the lens is focused such that the image projects very small on the screen. It needs to be adjusted if the patrons want to get an eye-full of all those smooth alabaster gams.
Fiesta Ace loses a couple of beans from his FRIJOLE AEGIS. He's got about a million more, making him practically indestructible. Nevertheless, he prefers to distance himself from the needlessly ethnic defensive modality.
Given your proportions, it now seems appropriate to go through the short, wide door.
A CHURLISH TOFF is waiting patiently for his performance. It seems he is quite particular regarding the type of performer he has come to expect in his peeping habits.
The Toff is irked by the class of talent his spondulicks have paid for. He's a little perplexed by the giant plug too, and can't imagine what kind of sordid spectacle the accesory will facilitate.
He punches the COIN RETURN button beneath the slot.
You exit the rear cabin of the HAM TRUCK, squashing your proportions even more. The look strikes you as unbecoming.
Furthermore, the plug's proportions have been squashed too. Even if you did manage to shrink it down somehow, there would be no way it could fit into a normal outlet!
Weird puzzle shit can be really frustrating sometimes.
You become elongated by a notch. You are no longer quite as strong. Your noodly arms begin to buckle beneath the big plug, which has also predictably elongated.
Surveying what you have in your inventory to put to use, you remember one of the Aces has the SMALL WINDOW and you have the SKYLIGHT with the BATTERY PACK.
The windows become knotted in each other to the extent your strength will allow.
You will need to find a way to apply a lot more pressure to achieve the (un)desirable reaction!
Meanwhile in the middle booth, a DAPPER SWAIN enjoys the view from his window. The road rushes away from him, producing the very convincing illusion that he is riding in the back of some sort of vehicle. He is having the time of his life!
The three of you combined may now execute a rare and devastating TRIPLE COMB RAVE!
You will have to think long and hard about which attack you would like to use. The decision will occupy a big Chunk of the battle while you chew the fat.
In spite of your penchant for self-destruction, you still just don't have the offensive gravitas for that attack. You will need a LEVEL 8 IMPETUS COMB filled before you can rain that awful shitstorm down on everyone.
You just don't have the right angle on the VULNERABULB from the deck!
Besides, the meager bullets from the SNIPER RIFLE probably wouldn't do much damage to such a hardy foe. The key to making the weapon useful must be the TELESCOPE. You just don't see any alternative!
DMK rotates his head to exhibit a fresh face, complete with not one, but TWO fully replenished health meters.
You consider his rejuvenation to be highly predictable since, let's face it, there are just so many cool attacks you haven't gotten around to using yet.
He is about to comply but you tell him not to bother, considering one is available for a brief window of time at the strike of midnight on Halloween (10/31/08), and also considering that a SCHEMA PUMPKIN has clearly been in plain view this whole time, and always has been.
The risqué performace has the Swain in libidinous conniptions. He busies both ends of his twizzle-blackened MOUSTACHE.
Luckily he had the foresight to violate brothel policy and disable the booth's SMOKE DETECTOR as many savvy oglers in this establishment are keen to do.
Still trapped on top of DMK's HAT, Ace Dick feels left out of the cool GAMBIT SCHEMA action. He doesn't care how real shit just got, this is just complete and total bullshit.
Your FLICKER attributes wane only slightly though, on account of your respectively monstrous consitutions (MONSTERTUTIONS).
All three of your RIPENESS attributes decrement by the same degree, as your SCHEMA PUMPKIN gradually becomes a little less fresh with each passing minute.
When either of these two attributes reaches zero, your GAMBIT SCHEMA upgrade will expire!
While Ace Dick sets up the rather complicated board game, Death clicks his BALL POINT SCYTHE and jots down a few notes in his TOME OF WAYFARING SOULS.
He documents the tale of three detectives trapped in their offices. In the due course of time, they escaped from their offices, only do discover they were still trapped in what could loosely be considered a larger office building, held hostage by an unscrupulous mob boss named Mobster Kingpin. MK wets his bill in just about everything, liquor bootlegging, laundering, embezzling treasure concealed in stone busts, prostitution outfits orchestrated by his Madame accomplice along with sinister urban mural rackets. Additionally, MK guards the MEGATON KEY required by the sleuths to exit to the REAL CITY STREETS which are in dire need of their sleuthing services!
The detectives were able to escape their offices by accomplishing various feats both inside their offices, and on the IMAGINARY CITY STREETS, a realm accessible in ways twofold: Through A) electrically-powered WINDOW PORTALS, and B) alcohol-fueled spells of IMAGINATION from within the safety of a small FORT.
The detectives additionally advanced their situation by forming alliances with various KINGDOMS residing on the flip-side of the IMAGINARY UNIVERSE. Problem Sleuth befriended ELVES, Pickle Inspector befriended WEASELS, Ace Dick befriended HOGS, and unfortunately, Mobster Kingpin made an ally as well in CLOWNS. Each aided his ally in its struggle against its warring party and received boons for their efforts. Eventually, Problem Sleuth used his heightened DIPLOMATIC ABILITIES to resolve all disputes among the KINGDOMS, thus winning him favor with the WEASEL KING.
Through the boons of their respective efforts, the sleuths gained a mysterious form of cognizance regarding their FEMALE ALTER EGOS. PS cognized awareness of Hysterical Dame, PI cognized Nervous Broad, and of course, AD merely cognized himself for lack of IMAGINATION. These ladies were revealed to be trapped in a DOLL HOUSE in MK's office, a room which he himself was proven to be trapped in as well, only freeing himself upon receiving his boon from the CLOWNS. The females had to overcome their prison as well as their DIMINUTIVE SIZES by accomplishing various feats within their rooms, utilizing SIZE ALTERING PORTALS to and from the IMAGINARY UNIVERSE involving a MUSIC BOX, a STOREFRONT, a MIRROR, a MANHOLE, and a JACUZZI.
Meanwhile, the sleuths engaged in battle with various DEMONS in the IMAGINARY UNIVERSE, gradually increasing their skill levels and adding to their repertoires of BATTLE TECHNIQUES and COMBAT OPERANDI. At one point, Ace Dick brewed a batch of CANDY CORN LIQUOR. The resulting explosion from the volatile concoction is ultimately what freed them from their offices. (For him, by blowing a hole in his front wall. For PS, by triggering an event which caused the OBOE to be dislodged from the back doors.) Later, Pickle Inspector drank the CANDY CORN LIQUOR to max out his IMAGINATION gauge, giving him tremendous powers in the IMAGINARY UNIVERSE.
His powers lead to these consequences.
A) Splitting himself into 8 clones.
B) One of those clones turning into a monster which killed most of the clones, and was then shot by...
C) One which summoned a CANDY MECHA, and then later killed by the "female" AD in the DOLL HOUSE.
D) One rising into the sky and becoming GODHEAD PICKLE INSPECTOR.
E) One using ABSTRACTED THOUGHT, allowing the real PI to function in reality, while the imaginary ones remain.
F) The final remaining one using TEMPORAL REPLICSIMILE, splitting himself in two. One disappearing into the PAST (PPI) and the other into the FUTURE (FPI).
Also meanwhile, Ace Dick (the original one) found the CONTROL ROOM containing a complicated PUZZLE and a CODE MACHINE. First, he tried jumping out of his SIDEWAYS WINDOW, fell through the IMAGINARY UNIVERSE sideways, and died. In taking a step back, he used the CODE MACHINE to skip ahead to a point in the game where the complicated PUZZLE was solved. (It was later determined that it was Past Pickle Inspector who went back in time to solve this puzzle, and then died.) Upon solving the puzzle, a hatch opened, allowing him to travel to the IMAGINARY UNIVERSE to collect his boon from the HOGS.
A little later, Problem Sleuth found the CONTROL ROOM too. He used the CODE MACHINE to return to an earlier state in the game, to the moment before Ace Dick jumped out the SIDEWAYS WINDOW. This time, AD was able to jump into the STOREFRONT before falling to his death. He emerged from Hysterical Dame's MUSIC BOX, causing him to be VERY SMALL. He eventually came to be normal-sized by using the various SIZE ALTERING PORTALS.
This is how there came to be three Ace Dicks.
Furthermore, by this point, there were two Pickle Inspectors: the original real one (PI), and his super-powered imaginary form in the future (FPI).
After PS used the CODE MACHINE to create the third AD, he then jumped through the UPSIDE-DOWN WINDOW with the PARACHUTE to fall through the sky of the IMAGINARY UNIVERSE, past the SLEAZY BROTHEL IN THE SKY, landing in the WEASEL KING'S palace. This is how he came to be charged with diplomatically resolving tensions among the FOUR KINGDOMS. However, he was only successful upon looking up a CHEAT CODE on GAMEFAQS, and printing it out. The PRINTOUT was generated in the ALCHEMY ROOM, which PI then took and used with the CODE MACHINE to skip ahead to the SUCCESSFUL POLITICAL NEGOTIATION. As a boon, PS received a great deal of AMMUNITION, ELF TEARS, WEASEL SNOT, HOG SLOP, PIE FILLING, and the loyalty of the WEASEL KING, and was returned to reality. He then collaborated with the other ADs to fit the SKULLS of the sleuths previously slain into the slots to unlock the DOUBLE DOORS.
In the ALCHEMY ROOM, PI also printed out a recipe for 5 ALARM HOT SAUCE, which involved a CHIPOTLE PEPPER, a rare item which proved to be found beneath AD's HAT. One of the ADs prepared the concoction in the HOT SAUCE STILL and waited for it to mature.
Upon freeing themselves from the DOLL HOUSE, HD, NB and "female" AD encountered MK, who'd just returned to his office. This sparked a fierce battle, whereby the heroines dealt damage to MK by raising his BLOOD SUGAR and using powerful attacks such as their CHARM BREAK! and MURDER FLUX! techniques. Power for these attacks was supplied when damage was taken by their counterparts. In the meantime, PS and the other two ADs were climbing the levels to MK's office, fighting monsters along the way. Damage they took fueled the females' attacks, and vice versa.
NB's MURDER FLUX was maxed out when PI was fooling around with windows in the CONTROL ROOM. He dropped one window through its own corresponding window portal, in spite of warnings from the HONEYBEE PROFESSOR. The reaction triggered a massive explosion, killing PI and the PROFESSOR. PI met with DEATH for TEA. The PROFESSOR pollinated the floral/fractal-based AFTERLIFE, while GPI fondly regarded it. After her attack, MK pushed NB through his office window. She fell through the sky in a nervous manner for some time until FPI appeared from the past and caught her.
In the course of the battle with MK, AD was killed in a suicide maneuver. He met PI and DEATH in the AFTERLIFE. Together, they eventually bested DEATH in a series of sudoko-based challenges to return to life. Pickle Inspector would bring a tear to DEATH'S eye by completing the LABRYNTHINE SUDOCUBE COMPREHSENSILE.
The earlier window explosion caused by PI was so massive, it caused a city-wide blackout in the IMAGINARY UNIVERSE. The darkness triggered the release of the terrible DEMON called FLUTHLU, the final adversary PS would face at the top of the tower, which physically corresponded with the imaginary TOWER OF SYNDETIC ASCENSION connecting both sides of the universe. FLUTHLU would climb that tower and emerge through the DEATH STAR WINDOW. PS would easily kill FLUTHLU with his TRUSTY KNIVES attack.
On the way up, one of the ADs was attacked by a ZOMBIE HIRED MUSCLE (who would later prove to be a hero) and became ZOMBIE ACE DICK. ZAD snuck by FLUTHLU to discover the giant BOWEN STILLSON DOGG bust blocking MK's office door.
Meanwhile, HD killed MK with KISS OF DEATH. However, MK snuck out of the AFTERLIFE while DEATH was distracted by PI and AD. MK revived himself with INSULIN SHOT, and knocked HD out cold. He then built a FORT out of his desk, drank some liquor, and retreated into the IMAGINARY UNIVERSE.
Once the 5 ALARM HOT SAUCE was finished, the explosion destroyed the BOWEN STILLSON DOGG, allowing PS into MK's office, to find MK in his fort.
The other AD drank the 5 ALARM HOT SAUCE and became a very strong FIESTA ACE DICK.
When FAD inverted the universe by flipping a window, this allowed MK to descend into demonhood to become DEMONHEAD MOBSTER KINPIN, MK's final form. PS, FAD and ZAD went through the office and upstairs to the deck of MK's imaginary pirate ship, the CHICAGO OVERCOAT. FAD had to destroy/dislodge a series of busts along the way, including a SNOOP BUST which he tragically sent into the sky never to be seen again.
PS flipped the ship's STEERING WHEEL to invert the universe again to begin waging battle. PI and AD, having bested Death, returned to the ship. FPI conjured CANDY ARMOR for the party, which was quickly negated by DMK's powerful attacks. The sleuth party countered with a series of their own attacks, raising DMK's BLOOD SUGAR and dealing damage by summoning the WEASEL KING, conjuring a JAWBREAKER SKYLIGHT BOMB, and invoking a COMB RAVE to execute a ridiculously powerful TRIPLE TRUFFLE SHUFFLE. DMK's first face was defeated, only to reveal DMK's second face with two fully revived health meters.
To counter this, the sleuth party invoked their GAMBIT SCHEMAS to enhance their offensive and defensive attributes.
Meanwhile, HD and NB find themselves trapped in the SLEAZY BROTHEL IN THE SKY, where they pursue a mission to best MADAME MUREL, MK's female counterpart and brothel matron, and plug in a GIANT FAN for some reason.
Also, while DMK's WEAKSPOT was exposed, AD foolishly got on top of DMK's HAT. (The AD who was at one point the "female" AD but now ironically functions as the "normal" AD.) DEATH met him on top of the HAT and then challenged him to a friendly game of LIFE, which brings us to the present moment.
It's all so simple you wonder why you even bothered to ask.
You thread the cord through the HAM NEEDLE, one of the city's most famous landmarks.
You pause nearby a HAM TRUCK. It appears some fellow is standing on top of its cabin, peering through his fancy OPERA BINOCULEERS to get a better look at something astounding he may have seen in the sky.
Death uses his ADDING SCYTHE to make careful calculations on how to utilize his funds. He considers a variety of COLLEGE BROCHURES to determine where he should begin his education. Life is very serious business, and Death doesn't take it lightly.
After about seven hours horsing around with the loathsome POPAMATIC BUBBLE, you are no closer to landing a favorable roll with those stupid SUGAR CUBES.
You look around to make absolutely certain Death is still away from the table.
You desperately bargain with Death, challenging him to any game you can think of for the fair damsel's life. CLUE, CONNECT FOUR, UNO, BATTLESHIP, SUDOKU, well ok not SUDOKU, but how about SNAKES AND LADDERS, that's fun, or what about HUNGRY HUNGRY HIPPOS god you LOVE HUNGRY HUNGRY HIPPOS.
I'm sorry, but Godhead Pickle Inspector can only fondly regard His creation. The illusory world of form is not to be interfered with, and the divine dance within is to be revered silently through His omniscient ogle.
You think it's finally time you put your GAMBIT SCHEMA's monstrous strength to use.
Maybe if you throw a heavy object at him? Yes, that huge ANCHOR over there ought to do nicely.
You start making your way over there. But due to your ridiculous FRANKENSTEIN SLOWNESS, you can only move several inches per minute. This could take a while.
Mobster Kingpin has exited the SPEAKEASY, which apparently was the back room of a LEGITIMATE ESTABLISHMENT operating as a front for his bootlegging outfit.
There are just enough quality wares for purchase to be convincing to any nosy flatfoot doffing his cap in your direction.
You exit the shop to the south side of Whore Island. This is where all the playboys and tomcats dress to the nines in their swankiest rags for a midnight hootenany.
The back door to the brothel is nearby. It's the entrance of choice for any discreet gentleman.
From this vantage you can see the famous CLOCK TOWER OF CARTESIAN ALIGNMENT.
It is directly behind the CATHEDRAL OF SYNDETIC ASCENSION, its face in precise alignment with the cathedral's eye. It approaches the strike of midnight.
Life is good! You made a killing on the bangtails at the track and rolled your earnings into a lucrative empire of casinos, loansharking, ginmilling and rumrunning, which is sort of silly because the game of Life does not take place in the Prohibition Era, but more of a generic modern suburban setting where alcohol is perfectly legal. Still, you stick with what you know.
And to make your perfect life complete, your beautiful wife has just given birth to SONHEARST!
You nudge him affectionately in the snout to establish paternity.
You yank the strings on your ASPECT CORSET as hard as you can! Your dimensions elongate considerably.
You lift the plug to the outlet. Even though you are weaker with these proportions, you have no problem lifting the plug because it is very light when it is small! Sort of like how an ant can lift 50 times its own weight due to its scale.
You feel it is incredibly important that events in this adventure maintain strict adherence to the laws of physics, because it would just be so stupid if there were any inconsistencies.
In your hurry to escape the awful red menace that is Fiesta Ace Dick, you don't notice a small man on the floor with an eyepiece. You squash him like a bug.
The burlesque cinema makes you a little hot under the collar, even considering your already innately spicy disposition. Yes, you do believe you can make out a bare ankle or two.
The FLICKER attribute of your ARTIFICE AMBIENT has been completely snuffed out.
The shared RIPENESS attribute has been depleted by half. Your SCHEMA PUMPKIN is starting to show its age. You should probably take it off the porch soon. It is late November after all.
To progress to the ATTIC you will need to unlock the door blocking the stairs. It is covered with a number of COLORED PADLOCKS. The locks do not appear to have any keyholes.
There are two other doors, one to a PANTRY and another to a STUDIO.
Off to the side is another lovely CORSET, clearly meant for a woman of generous carriage.
You think it's pretty clear Death has abandoned your friendly game for good. You don't want to leave a mess, so you neatly put the game back in its box.
Meanwhile, you sense your temporal counterpart has finally split in two, sending one into the past (you), and the other into the future (FFPI).
You may finally join the battle while keeping the confusion to a minimum.
The Swain makes a valiant play for his eyepiece, which in no way shape or form could ever be used in conjunction with a sniper rifle, and possibly could serve as one of numerous red herrings to this effect.
The CLOCK TOWER OF CARTESIAN ALIGNMENT comes into focus. Still, it is very far away and difficult to read. You wonder if there's any way to zoom in on it.
You'd better figure out a way to get as far away from him as possible. I don't care what sort of defensive AEGIS or AMBIENT you've got - if you are within the blast radius of this one, it will kill you all!
Problem Sleuth mans the wheel for no very good reason since it doesn't actually serve any purpose in steering the ship. Still, maintaining appearance of command over the vessel is good for morale.
From the wheel's portal, you can see your own ship swing into view, passing in front of the cathedral's central eye.
You begin to contemplate the vantage of the wheel's corresponding portal.
MM hardly took any damage from the previous skirmish. It seems she's a rather resilient old battleaxe. You are going to have to resort to something with a little more bite.
But she's not about to do keep brawling without her corset.
While you are daydreaming about such things, Madame Murel dips her SKELETON BRUSH into the PALETTE PAINTS. She applies a variety of colors to the brush.
The cathedral and clock tower have been sliced in half as well. The curtains of space and time pull back to reveal the highly energetic EXTRA-DIMENSIONAL COSMIC SUPERSTRING STRATA.
Though the blast missed the ship entirely, the STEERING WHEEL has also been mysteriously bisected.
You stroll down the sidewalk with your beautiful, loving family, thinking fondly of all the riches and power you've accumulated. You're going to get a bite to eat at a restaurant you run, and then take in a motion picture at a theater which you also own. It's safe to say you hold this town in the palm of your hand.
The speakeasy patrons hear the chime and know that it can only mean one thing. It's the witching hour and it's time to get your drink on. This is no dilemma a spirited hootenanny will not address.
The patrons wonder what has become of their beloved legitimate establishment.
You both advance to the second floor of the DOLLHOUSE. It appears this is where MM keeps her whores imprisoned while they're not blowing honey coolers at concupiscent johns to scratch out some salad.
That was actually a lot less dirty than it sounded.
It looks like there's a pair of SUNGLASSES on the floor.
You observe a change taking place in the wheel's viewport.
You also notice that the ship has nearly swung all the way back around to a waiting, ornery DMK. If you are going to do something, you'd better do it fast!
Ace has been strutting around like he owns the town long enough. The thugs and their bean shooters have something to say about that. And that thing is, "Dance between lead raindrops you filthy rat!"
That Mexican fellow over there seems awfully angry. Maybe you're just being paranoid, but he looks to be fixing to punch something.
So as not to upset him further by referencing his ethnicity, you casually push the pinata that was in plain view back into your GAMES CUPBOARD. You feel foolish for nearly recommending it as an activity.
PI had no intention of destroying the precious bust. And in any case, your valiant gesture wouldn't have accomplished anything, since it was of course the cannon that needed to be blocked, not the rifle.
Finally, it is time to supply power to the fan. Soon a chilling breeze shall flood the heavens. The mighty blades will cut at the air like an executioner's axe. The motor will purr like a jungle cat washing blood off its paws. It will bring terror into the hearts of your foes and how they will tremble.
To reach the fan, it seems the current must traverse the entire span of the universe, and then back again. This should take approximately 18 billion years, twice.
Unless of course you can think of a way to increase the speed of light.
The impact of the fall finally snuffs out your FLICKER completely. Zombie Ace's GAMBIT SCHEMA has expired.
You have fallen through many floors of a building and landed in a JAIL CELL. There is a friendly looking man in the corner with an odd variety of POSSESSIONS. He is likely completely sane. You look forward to becoming friends with him and working together to escape.
[url=http://www.mspaintadventures.com/?s=1&p=000096]You can't imagine what could possibly go wrong.[/url]
Your seething vengeance transforms you into a gritty, gun-toting vigilante.
However, due to your abysmal IMAGINATION, this is the best costume you come up with. You draw a ridiculous looking skull on the front of your jacket with a dark stone. Or maybe it was an old lump of dog shit. You're not really sure.
You can't believe how shitty your guns are. It is extraordinarily unlikely that they work at all.
As gentlemen, you feel strongly that when confronted with a dictatorial word, an energetic fist should be ready to resist.
In fact, you have a great deal of thoughts on how a gentleman ought to behave.
For instance, his nose should pant and his lip should curl. Additionally, his cheeks should flame and his brow should furl. His bosom should heave and his heart should glow, and last but not least, his fist be ever ready for a knock-down blow.
Disgusted with the display of foppery, you show them how a real man should behave. A man's man.
You tighten the drawstings on your woman's undergarment.
The great compactification causes an alteration in your biochemistry. FMK becomes Dark Matter Mobster Kingpin. (DMMK, just to make sure things get a little more confusing.)
Your MASS increases by a factor of 10,000. Your VOLUME is diminished by a factor of 100. Your increased density creates a strong gravitational field.
Your OXEN have died and you've long-since consumed their remains. You are out of supplies. You have burned your WAGON for warmth. You nurse the opening of your JUG OF WHISKEY for any few precious drops that may remain.
With no earthly possessions left, you resort to wandering the wilderness. As you trudge through a smelly [url=http://www.mspaintadventures.com/?s=2&p=000215]SWAMP[/url], you contemplate the harrowing abyss of despair that is your LIFE. It is more than you can bear.
Weakened by starvation and grief, you crawl to a [url=http://www.mspaintadventures.com/?s=1&p=000108]TREE STUMP[/url] and collapse. A peculiar aura of misery surrounds the stump, but you are too depressed to give it much thought.
You are at the end of your rope. Your days of success and happiness are a distant memory. You are a husk of a man.
Was it all an illusion? An entire lifetime spent, on the top of a table on top of a hat in the blink of an eye? Your piss-poor IMAGINATION grapples with the heady metaphysical issue to little avail.
The two PART-PICKLES collide, obliterating each other in an act of self-sacrifice. It is a chance to use their lives for the greater good which they RELISH.
There is a strange fellow standing on top of the large HAT DRAWN on DMK's head. You're quite sure you've never detected his existence before, and probably never will again.
You have discovered the elusive, super-massive HIGGS BONEHEAD. He appears to be very dense, unintelligent, slow-moving, and tragically, short-lived.
You are determined not to let this opportunity slip by. You are just way too hard boiled to be deterred by the setback. With decisive action, you issue a command to your shipmate.
You are having a hard time inflicting any damage on DMMK, who is shielded by his strong gravitational field. It seems to be absorbing everything you throw at it, including lashes of paint and scalding flames.
You examine your SCHEMA PUMPKIN. It is looking awfully pungent. This is unsurprising, since it's almost February and you should have taken it off your porch months ago.
The patrons of the speakeasy have put the witching hour to good use. They have imbibed heavily, and any one of these fellas'll tell you the whole wingding's gone like eggs in coffee. Everyone is in agreement it's about time to relocate this hootenanny to the sleazy brothel.
But the HATLESS MAN demands a nightcap before they go. He slurs instructions to the barkeep that he'd like whatever's in that bottle over there.
The barkeep wonders if the man is sure about that, and ventures that perhaps he's had enough tonight. The man assures him of the contrary with a redfaced rebuttal.
There is nothing in here but a huge hole in the floor. There are powerful gravitational forces emanating from the hole, and none of these patrons are in any condition to maintain their balance.
The Gentlemen aggress this uncouth ruffian with the sort of tactics that strike their fancy at the moment: by waging stiff contest through a series of old-timey childhood games!
The Dapper Swain makes a smashing play with his RUBBER BALL and announces the triumph by bellowing "horse before carriage!" as is the only proper way. However before he can scoop the JACKS up, they vanish into the field.
The Churlish Toff is having a devil of a time with the match of STICKBALL. His ball bounces into the field as well, never to be recovered.
The Mannerly Highbrow bustles on to the stage with a spirited game of HOOP AND STICK. He was but a lad when he last played. The activity has him feeling youthful and invigorated, free as a swollen-breasted popinjay!
The Highbrow blithely rolls DMMK around [url=http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Katamari_Damacy]Katamari[/url]-style, gathering lesser debris lying about such as MELONS, ARROWS, COINS, and bits of EGG SHELL.
Professor Bee oversees the mammoth undertaking of filling the final comb. Vast quantities of PANG NECTAR were generated from the previous attack. The workers scramble to keep pace.
The electric current is still taking its sweet time. It has barely even begun to make its journey across the universe. And it sure looks like that useless deity over there couldn't give a shit.
Meanwhile in the afterlife, everyone hears a lot of commotion outside the door. Everyone decides to go check it out, with brazen disregard for Death's polite request that they stay put.
Death throws down his hat in disappointment.
He really must remember to invest in stronger [url=http://images.google.com/images?hl=en&q=woodwind%20instruments]security measures[/url] for the afterlife.
The man is delighted that the hootenanny continues into the night with all these new faces on top of this peculiar flat surface, whatever it is. He slurs drunken tidings of merriment to this effect, remarking how he's "jush so happy to shee all these wunnerful pee(hic)pull..."
The thugs buckle their knees and cast their unworthy torsos sidewalk-ward. Whether it is on account of submission or the strong gravitational forces, it is difficult to say. Perhaps in this Mobster/Gravitation-based cult, there is no difference.
You give them a good tug this time, lowering your volume and jacking up your mass to a factor of a million million million million, roughly the weight of an Earth-sized planet.
Dark Matter Mobster Kingpin has slipped under his SCHWARZSCHILD RADIUS and collapsed to become Black Hole Mobster Kingpin. Nothing can escape his gravitational pull. Not even light, no matter how slowly and steadily it attempts to crawl out of his gravity well.
The Madame, who appears not to have left with the others, gives her assurance as well. She suggests a round of that game you were so fond of. The one with the mammals. She doesn't mind.
If you didn't know better, you would swear the Madame was beginning to fancy you. You become a little uncomfortable.
Problem Sleuth acquires the INK OF SQUID PRO QUO and puts it safely in his POCKET, where any good flask belongs.
The items remaining in your inventory are, of course, 4 precious pieces of CANDY CORN, a lot of useless AMMUNITION, and your supplies of ELF TEARS, WEASEL SNOT, HOG SLOP, and PIE FILLING, each respectively at 36, 12, 18, and 29 drops precisely.
The gravitational pull of BHMK is unstoppable. The Game of Life is being ripped apart. Buildings, trees, ugly dogs - everything is sucked into his EVENT HORIZON.
It's DMK's third and final face. He is more fearsome than ever, with THREE HEALTH METERS, and a deadly BLACK HOLE VERSION OF HIS NON-IMAGINARY SELF pulsing on top of his HAT.
In addition to which, he is completely invulnerable to all physical attacks, and has no weakness to increases in BLOOD SUGAR or EMOTIONS. He is only susceptible to damage caused by righteous fires of charisma, but it is doubtful there is any hero in the cosmos bold enough to wield them.
OH. He also regenerates any quantity of damage he suffers instantaneously.
What you witness cannot be described by words. A spectacle transcending time and space. If it is true a thousand angels dance on the head of a pin, then so it seems all universal events imagined and real play on the polarized lens of a Hollywood B-list celebrity.
DMK deploys his black BRIER OF CRUELTY. The macabre thicket acts as yet another impenetrable defensive barrier, as if he needed one.
DMK can also wield the bramble offensively. The frisky creepers get down to business. It is the business of not minding their own business, and involving themselves in your business.
Each PI divides himself into two smaller parts, deploying one to the past, the other to the future.
Their parts continue this process, ad infinitum.
Soon the PART-PICKLES are so small they exist on the atomic scale, and so plentiful, they occupy every location in every moment of the universe's history.
The PART-PICKLES politely play the roles of each elementary particle in the standard model, namely quarks, electrons and neutrinos.
Their forces are propagated by different sorts of lumbering BONEHEADS, including photons and gluons, which lazily shuffle along at the speed of light.
The many particle/energy interactions have even created some MORONS and MORON NEUTRINOS. Sadly, their lifespans are rather short and they undergo the process of MORON DECAY.
THE DEVIL is touching up a few notes on his SULPHURIC TABLATURE.
He documents a tale which was [url=http://www.mspaintadventures.com/?s=4&p=001330]last updated[/url] in the TOME OF WAYFARING SOULS by a now rather preoccupied Death.
When Death had finished his last entry, DMK had just exposed his second face, Team Sleuth had invoked their GAMBIT SCHEMAS, HD and NB had begun wandering through the SLEAZY BROTHEL IN THE SKY, and AD was embarking upon a game of LIFE with DEATH.
It is that game where we pick up again.
The match began as a friendly one but became quickly reduced to a series of boorish tactics by AD, who stole all of Death's money while he was distracted. They pursued each other in their GAME PIECES, but AD struck a defenseless woman who was crossing the street. AD pleaded with Death to spare her life, but Death was nowhere to be seen. Miraculously, the woman survived, and then AD and WIFEHEARST became married.
With WIFEHEARST, AD sired the adorable SONHEARST. As a family they enjoyed years of peaceful, prosperous life, as AD built an empire on various illicit LEGITIMATE ESTABLISHMENTS. This activity caught the prying eye of some THUGS, who were none too pleased with AD muscling in on their boss's racket.
One day while taking a walk, AD's family was gunned down by the THUGS. AD AUTO-PARRIED a bullet to save SONHEARST, but WIFEHEARST was not so lucky and perished. This prompted the surviving family to seek vengeance as vigilantes. They became BATHEARST and PUNISHER DICK. Unfortunately the WHEEL OF LIFE had different plans for them. Rather than fighting crime, they would be heading WEST to the open frontier.
Tragically, BATHEARST drowned while they attempted to ford the river in their wagon. AD was inconsolable with grief and wandered the countryside, heartbroken and alone. Eventually he found a GUN underneath a TREE STUMP and shot himself.
With each successive misfortune befalling AD, DMK's EMOTIONS level increased, causing him to be susceptible to physical attacks. This allowed PS to inflict major damage through his GAMBIT SCHEMA -> CANDY CORN VAMPIRE, with its heightened attributes such as increased strength, endurance, and VAMPIRE FASTNESS.
His first move was to invoke COMBAT OPERANDI -> ARMISTYX, summoning Death, who was called away from his game of Life with AD. Death gave PS his SCYTHE to wield against DMK. PS utilized the SCYTHE in its various forms, culminating with the A-BOMB SCYTHE, completely wiping out one of DMK's two health meters, and well as permanently destroying the SCYTHE much to Death's sorrow.
Concurrently to this battle, HD and NB were trapped in the BROTHEL, equipped with a couple of special CORSETS. They were confronted with a very large FAN PLUG which they needed to find a way to plug in for some reason. This lead them on a journey through the brothel which involved conducting sultry performances in a series of PRIVATE BOOTHS, which involved using items on hand to either remove a small MURAL from a wall, or conceal it with a coat of paint, or generally deface it in a rather seductive fashion.
The performances were much to the delight of three GENTLEMAN, a MANNERLY HIGHBROW, a DAPPER SWAIN, and a CHURLISH TOFF, who each sat in their respective coin-operated viewing booths. Once the coin-op slot's time had expired, or became disabled in some way, the WINDOW no longer served to display the other side of the booth. Instead the windows served as portals to various TRUCKS, including a BREAD TRUCK, a CHEESE TRUCK, and a HAM TRUCK, and allowed someone to either exit the rear of the truck, or enter the cabin of the truck, depending on which side of the booth one enters from. This rear exit/cabin entrance polarity was controlled by a series of SWITCHES on the ceiling just out side the booths, accessible only to one with a significant HEIGHT attribute.
NB used these portals to thread the FAN PLUG through them, and out the backs of their corresponding trucks. Stepping through the differently shaped portals, as well as making adjustments to her ASPECT CORSET, served to modify her proportions as well as her VIM attribute, which was at times useful for carrying the plug. She also helped the Highbrow to drive the BREAD TRUCK, while HD also drove the CHEESE TRUCK with the Swain to various destinations to facilitate the threading process, at one point threading the cord through the eye of the HAM NEEDLE.
Finally, they used the HAM TRUCK to deliver the FAN PLUG to the GUTTERPIPE PROJECTS, and fed it through the pipe and out the lens of the MOTION PICTURE PROJECTOR, which projected the plug at a normal scale which could fit into an outlet, and projected HD and NB at a diminutive scale. HD used her SCALE BODICE to bring her scale back to normal, and entered the door of MM's STUDIO. NB remained small, and simply walked through the MOUSE HOLE with the plug.
In the STUDIO, NB used her corset to become very tall to plug in the fan. The outlet however supplied no power, since it was controlled by a SWITCH in the DOLLHOUSE ATTIC. HD encountered an enraged MM. NB then entered the FOYER of the DOLLHOUSE, and then entered the STUDIO from the other side, with her dimensions restored to normal. HD and NB clashed with MM using their weapons of burlesque seduction on the Madame.
Meanwhile, FAD had grown tired of the stuggle with DMK and decided to go mess up MK's fort directly. He rode it like a MECHANICAL BULL and promptly crushed it with his impressive WEIGHT attribute. This sparked a wild chase through the greater facility, sending them down the DUMBWAITER SHAFT, into the SPEAKEASY, crashing through the SPEAKEASY FLOOR, into the SPEAKEASY again while shattering an OBOE, and out the exit AND into MK's LEGITIMATE ESTABLISHMENT.
They exited this establishment to find themselves on WHORE ISLAND, with a view of the CLOCK TOWER OF CARTESIAN ALIGNMENT, whose hands crept toward the strike of the WITCHING HOUR. SPEAKEASY PATRONS loitered in a crowd while DMK tried to blend in by swapping HATS with a nearby gentleman. FAD eventually discovered him, in the process thefting a TOPHAT from a man, leaving him HATLESS.
The two entered the SLEAZY BROTHEL, through the THEATER, and fought their way through MM'S STUDIO where HD, NB and MM were just about to clash. They fought their way through the DOLLHOUSE FOYER, and then into the PANTRY where they continued the struggle by the LAZY SUSAN OF ENDOWMENT.
Meanwhile, the following more tangential events transpired:
- On the deck of the CHICAGO OVERCOAT, PI inched toward a large ANCHOR, hampered by his FRANKENSTEIN SLOWNESS.
- At the behest of PS earlier, FOUR HEROES from the KINGDOMS climbed the 66,666 levels in the CATHEDRAL OF SYNDETIC ASCENSION, besting foes along the way.
- The Dapper Swain found his way through the PROJECTOR, and was crushed by MK's careless foot. He recovered though to give a valiant peeping effort through his PERSONAL GAWCULAR LENS. Eventually, all three GENTLEMEN would end up in MM'S STUDIO in a diminutive state.
After suffering a series of attacks, MM retreated into the DOLLHOUSE FOYER to equip her CORSET. She discovered it had been stolen though. Her assailants pursued her, and she fought back using her SKELETON BRUSH and PALETTE.
On the ship, an IMPETUS COMB was completed just as PI reached the ANCHOR. He was about to use a pretty lame COMB RAVE that possibly involved an achor, when MK swapped SUCKLE RECEPTACLES in the PANTRY to steal the rave for DMK. DMK then used his ridiculously powerful attack, FILL 'EM WITH DAYLIGHT. PI dropped the ANCHOR overboard, hooked it on to the CATHEDRAL, causing the ship to swing around out of range of the attack just in time.
DMK's attack ripped the UNIVERSE in half, exposing the EXTRA-DIMENSIONAL COSMIC SUPERSTRING STRATA. Meanwhile the FOUR HEROES reached the top of the CATHEDRAL, which had also split in half, and they remained suspended in the middle. GPI seeing his creation in peril, was spurred to rare action to repair the damage. He invoked DEUS EX SEWING MACHINA, picked up the HAM NEEDLE with the FAN CORD threaded through it, and affixed it to his SEWING MACHINA. He sewed his creation back together, stretching the cord across the entire length of the UNIVERSE, and depositing the HAM NEEDLE back where it was.
The FOUR HEROES, having floated to the other side of the CATHEDRAL, together turned a CRANK, which caused the cathedral's eye to zoom into the face of the CLOCK TOWER, which was at the strike of midnight, locally known as the WITCHING HOUR. This revealed the very large CHRONOSCOPE OF AXIAL CONJUGATION extending from the eye, pointing at the distant clock.
At the strike of the WITCHING HOUR, PS, who was manning the ship's WHEEL, noticed that the wheel in fact served as a viewport from the clock's vantage. He simply reached into the wheel, reached across the great void of space, and plucked the CHRONOSCOPE from the CATHEDRAL, and pulled it out of the wheel as a normal-sized telescope, deactivating the WHEEL in the process.
He threw the CHRONOSCOPE to the highly immobile PI, who then affixed the scope to his SNIPER RIFLE, which caused the CLOCK TOWER to transform into the CLOCK TOWER SNIPER CANNON, a weapon operated from afar by the SNIPER RIFLE itself. He used the cannon to deal a great deal of damage to DMK, all of which was rapidly regenerated. But the salvo over time released enough PANG NECTAR to produce three very large IMPETUS COMBS, the three biggest ones, dwarfed only by the eighth and final comb yet to be prepared.
The three combs were applied to the following characters and their corresponding COMB RAVES.
- HD: COMB RAVE -> ROLLING THUNDER
- NB: COMB RAVE -> HIGHLY FLAMMABLE CASE OF THE VAPORS
- PFPI+FFPI: COMB RAVE -> TEMPORAL REPLICOLLISION
The first two were used in tandem in the final stand versus MM, completely defeating her. She wound up in the AFTERLIFE, where she and others would be cajoled by Death to play a variety of games. Other characters would arrive in the AFTERLIFE in this manner over the greater course of events, including WIFEHEARST and BATHEARST who died in the game of LIFE as previously described.
Also winding up in the AFTERLIFE would be FAD, when during his scuffle in the PANTRY, MK swallowed him whole by reversing his BELLY OF THE WHALE attack on him through the method of EXTORSION. This caused MK to absorb FAD's essence and become FMK, a much larger, heavier version of himself.
It had also become apparent that MK was the one who stole MM's corset, the GRAVITY BRASSIER, as he was wearing it at the time of this incident. To restore his former size, he simply pulled on the VOLUME DRAWSTRINGS to decrease his volume. This concentrated his weight to a smaller patch of the floor, which he caused to collapse and fall through. He landed underneath the DOLLHOUSE TABLE, beneath which the three diminutively sized GENTLEMEN had gathered.
The FOUR HEROES would eventually gather there as well, as they had since ascended/descended the other side of the CATHEDRAL to the city streets, and jumped through the PROJECTOR. This group eventually included all of the SPEAKEASY PATRONS after the WITCHING HOUR expired, including a HATLESS MAN who managed to obtain the INK OF SQUID PRO QUO for later ill-advised consumption.
After slaying MM, HD and NB acquired the SKELETON KEY to unlock the door to the upper floors. They ascended, freeing several WHORES, and recovering BEN STILLER'S SUNGLASSES. They reached the ATTIC and flipped the SWITCH, supplying power to the outlet. The FAN however did not receive power right away, since the electric current now needed to travel the entire length of the UNIVERSE, a journey which would take LIGHT approximately 32 BILLION YEARS round trip, and would take current through a copper wire even longer.
Below the DOLLHOUSE TABLE, the GENTLEMEN aggressed FMK foppishly, which caused him tighten his GRAVITY BRASSIER to increase his MASS while decreasing his VOLUME, augmenting his gravitational pull overall. This pull caused HD, NB and the liberated WHORES to fall through the floors and under the table, where they, the GENTLEMEN, and the FOUR HEROES would battle what had become DMMK.
They fought DMMK to no avail, as his gravitational field absorbed each attack. The Highbrow playfully used the small kingpin with his LV. 4 HOOPTECH -> DMMK KATAMARI BALL, and began rolling up everyone in the room into a ball, stuck together by his gravitational field. Angered, DMMK pulled his drawstrings even further, increasing his mass and falling through the bottom of WHORE ISLAND altogether. The jumble of characters fell through the sky for some time while below the others dueled with DMK.
ZAD used COMBAT OPERANDI -> CHECK YO'SELF JONAH to summon a WHALE, which he commanded as a mount. It was quickly shot by the SNIPER CANNON. ZAD and the whale fell onto a PRISON BUILDING below, where the whale died on the roof, while ZAD crashed through numerous floors and became trapped in a cell with a PRISONER. Eventually, ZAD, the whale and the prisoner wound up in the AFTERLIFE too.
PFPI used the penultimate COMB RAVE, TEMPORAL REPLICOLLISION, in conjunction with his future self FFPI, who finally appeared from FPI's previous use of TEMPORAL REPLICSIMILE. The two accelerated through the TRAFFIC LIGHT PORTALS and collided together, intersecting with DMK. This attack depleted the remainder of DMK's health and caused him to descend. It also killed PFPI and FFPI in the process, and the PART-PICKLE COLLISION created the short-lived HIGGS BONEHEAD in the process.
Meanwhile everyone in the AFTERLIFE was developing the habit of coming and going through DEATH'S DOOR at will, much to the dismay of Death. It was at this point when AD shot himself in the game of LIFE, emerged from the game unharmed, and reunited with his family, which set DMK's EMOTIONS to be maxed out in time to be dealt massive damage by the REPLICOLLISION.
The cluster of people falling with DMMK eventually landed in the game of LIFE on DMK's HAT. All characters except for DMMK exited LIFE'S DOOR, opposite DEATH'S DOOR, for a large reunion with the deceased characters on top of the HAT.
PS turned the ship's WHEEL causing the large BARREL to fall and bounce of PI's head, down to the VULNERABULB below. It struck the bulb, depleting DMK's SPUNK MYRRH. The bulb closed, DMK ascended and soon revealed his third and final face. PI's GAMBIT SCHEMA finally wore off when the RIPENESS ATTRIBUTE was finally depleted, completely rotting the SCHEMA PUMPKIN, which may never have existed in the first place anyway.
DMMK in the game of LIFE pulled his drawstrings hard enough to collapse into a BLACK HOLE, becoming BHMK. BHMK sucked in his two groveling thugs, the entire game of LIFE, all the characters on the HAT (sans Death, MM, the whale, the Bonehead, and all imaginary PIs, who obediently remained in the afterlife). LIFE'S DOOR and DEATH'S DOOR were sucked in too.
They all landed on top of BHMK'S HAT inside the BLACK HOLE, greeted by the DEMIMONDE GODDESS and 1000 COURTESAN ANGELS, with no apparent means of escape.
DMK's new form quickly ensnared PS and PI in his BRIER OF CRUELTY. PS had recently obtained the INK OF SQUID PRO QUO dropped by the HATLESS MAN, but has yet to discover a weapon to wield against DMK.
In space looms the biggest comb of all, nearing completion. Orbiting it is a MOON, about which itself orbits the CANDY MECHA LEGS, which support the precious CAPTAIN SNOOP BUST.
Also, on GPI's instruction, PPI, FPI, PFPI, and FFPI just became all the subatomic particles that ever existed in the universe, and always comprised every character and [url=http://www.mspaintadventures.com/extras/ps000030.html]every physical location[/url] all along.
The Devil wonders why he's even bothering with this useless exercise in the self-evident.
You retrieve the TECTRIX OF THE ARBITOR you were granted as a boon from the Weasel King a while ago to duel with Death. You had since stowed it in your HAT for safekeeping. That bit of cunning foresight was certainly a feather in your cap, figuratively speaking of course.
With everyone distracted by the spectacle overhead, you think now would be a good time to lodge a CONTRABASS CLARINET between the DOORS OF LIFE AND DEATH. You're tired of letting so many wayfaring souls slip through your bony fingers.
When you open the door, the massive difference in gravitational potential sucks you and everything in the afterlife through it. Sort of like a short circuit of gravity. Whoops.
The entire flower was sucked through the door, inside-out. On closing the door, the gravitational forces have been snuffed out, leaving an empty stem where the afterlife once was.
GPI regards it fondly, albeit in a slightly disconcerted manner.
The Semigoddess bestows you with the most powerful set of KEYS in the universe, the SMITH CORONA BLOTSPITTER.
Dispatcher of the despotic; Convincer of the uncompelled; It is one of several fabled holy weapons reserved for the CHOSEN ARBITOR, sealed and protected by the realm's hallowed figures of nobility.
In a last ditch effort to salvage diplomatic proceedings, you invoke the ultimate resolution in your formal attache of plenipotentiary clauses, motioning for bilateral demilitarization and cessation of hostilities for the mutual advancement and prolonged commitment to the furtherance of harmonious relations among sovereign parties.
The CLOCK TOWER SEXTANT is activated. Its great INDEX ARM PENDULUM swings to and fro, simultaneously plotting the ticks of time and the altitude of heavenly bodies.
You direct your IMPERIAL GAZING WAND above. What you spy through the EYEPEEP troubles you deeply. It is not just your kingdom, but the whole universe which is in peril.
You regally ponder the fuck out over the dilemma. You know the answer lies within the depths of your bottomless kingly wisdom.
You know there is only one hope. There is only one CHOSEN ARBITOR.
The majesty of your personal charm spreads throughout the cosmos. Legend will speak of a great CHAMPION OF PULCHRITUDE. Scribes will scrawl His praises. Bards will wail His glories. Poets will bleed their inkwells dry and weep them full again. Men of character will breathe this story their passion; as warrior blows white conk on jagged rock; as paramour puts flushed lip to lover's mouth. Men of spirit aflame, open of shirt and snug of pantaloon; rose-breasted men with swiveling hips, nimble legs and restless hearts; men whose vehemence of temperament fills their throats with melody, their footwork with rhythm. The fiery cluck of learned, genteel men as these will pique the ear with tales of this Champion.
A Champion, who by mettle of His glowing personal charm alone, saved the universe.
The electric current travels through the FAN CORD, across the relativistically shortened span of the universe in the blink of a relativistically accelerated eye.
You are one of the top Problem Sleuths in the caliginous void. Solicitations for your service are separated by eons of white noise in the stew of primordial consciousness. Compensation, abstract. It is a dewy whorl in fibrous skein of Now. You are feeling particularly existential tonight.
Another balmy summer evening. The city rolls these nights like loaded dice.
It's tough for a flatfoot to make it in a town like this. Some towns are built loose and a stiff breeze of upset blows through, but these bricks are tight-knit. Built like a damn Chippewa birchbark canoe. Not much daylight seeps through, see? A gumshoe asks questions and questions upset. It's like some shawlless dame frostbit in winter, too proud to take your coat for some damn reason. You know how dames are. The city turns her cold shoulder to a type a fella and that's all there is to it.
But a steak dinner don't pay for itself if you catch my drift.
The streets won't bang on your office glass and ask for placation. The streets ease themselves, but a type of fella knows better than to just step aside. A man finds space between the city's greased wheels of upkeep and when the time spins along it sees, yeah, it sees there were feet filling shoes on just that slab of rock. A man waits and listens. Every place, a placation. The alleyway spike of a bottle breaking - some tipsy beggar tithes to gravity, razor jewels shimmering on oilslick asphalt. The wail of a baby three floors up - ink is blotted before pact of appeasement sealed, hot formula dabbed on mother's wrist. And the shrill complaint of a phone...
Ain't no one can say a man wasn't filling shoes here.
You pick up the phone and to no surprise it is some dame yacking about something.
It's always the same with dames. Always roped in a fix to some john with busy meat hooks and a spell of bad habits. Makes a man reach for his flask just thinkin' about it.
Miss, if you'll just settle down I'll...
Toots, listen. I can barely understand a word you're...
It doesn't matter what she had to say though. A hard boiled lug like you has seen enough weepy lamps and spoiled makeup jobs to know what the matter is. What the matter is there's a problem. And you'll be damned if you aren't gonna be the fellas to sleuth it.
Hey check it out. Every week we'll be revealing some new troll characters from Hiveswap until Act 2 is out. Follow the Troll Call here, and meet the first two here. Expect a few more surprises like this to drop in coming weeks.
