Housetrapped IC

[Nettlekid]

A young man lies in bed by a ringing clock. It just so happens that today, the 3rd of May, 2016, is the day which plucky Mercury can eagerly anticipate the arrival of his copy of the Sburb Gamma! It's been about seven years in the making, but they've supposedly picked out all the bugs.

You turn off the clock in second person, and recognize that it is now early afternoon. It's past time to get up but you had stayed up late last night because you wanted to make the most of the day because you had woken up late because you had stayed up late the night before. You'll probably have to stay up late tonight to get some solid gameplay in.

You remember that you didn't want to pay the delivery fee for your game, so it'll be waiting at the GameSpot you had selected when you preordered it. You will have to find your brother and badger him into giving you a ride before it gets too late and the shop closes.

A young man stands in his attic. Well, it isn't his attic yet, but it will be when he turns 18. It just so happens that today, the 3rd of May, 2016, is the day which plucky Bilescab Marc can eagerly anticipate the arrival of his copy of the Sburb Gamma! It's been about seven years in the making, but they've supposedly picked out all the bugs. A slight clatter downstairs encourages him to head down in the hopes that the postman has delivered that crucial package!

However, you are now in second person, and met with disappointment as the door is closed and everything in the space is as immaculate as it was before. It's a wonder you manage to afford these toys, considering how viciously you hoard them. At a toy store. The culprit of the clatter is a tiny clockwork money with a pair of cymbals, not quite out of clockwork juice. It is unnerving.

Of course it wasn't the postman, you think to yourself. That guy hates you! You are magnanimous towards him, because you know he is only envious of your package. S. Your large and multitudinous packages. They vastly outnumber his, and people give him theirs all the time. Presumably now though he is in possession of your package, and you should have him give it to you!

A young woman meanders in her garden. It just so happens that today, the 3rd of May, 2016, is the day which plucky Kayla can eagerly anticipate the arrival of her copy of the Sburb Gamma! It's been about seven years in the making, but they've supposedly picked out all the bugs.

It is a relief to you, standing as you are now in second person, to have the looming figure of your massive house to your back and the smell of wood and earth all around you. You had at one time had an agreement with your mother to let you live in a treehouse in exchange for an improvement in your grades, but your apathy has rendered that agreement void.

Considering the time of day, it is likely that your copy of Sburb has already arrived and is hiding in your house somewhere amidst junk magazines and bills. Your mother is home right now, and while there have been many days that you have evaded her notice by creeping around opposite corners of the house, it's always a risk to venture inside to any area that isn't your room.

A young man sits before a screen. It just so happens that today, the 3rd of May, 2016, is the day which plucky Adam can eagerly anticipate the arrival of his copy of the Sburb Gamma! It's been about seven years in the making, but they've supposedly picked out all the bugs.

It has been troublesome to have to wait for physical discs, as you are now in second person, and typically prefer to collect your various computer games via Vapor. At present you are wasting your proverbial breath arguing with uninformed ogres on the internet about whether Black Dove Stratagem can be used on one's own Principal Combatant, or PC for the hip. You firmly maintain it can.

From downstairs and through several doors, you hear the faintest echo of a noise you know means your father has called for you. This is usually not significant.

A young woman gazes into a mirror, scrutinizing persistent blond roots. It just so happens that today, the 3rd of May, 2016, is the day which plucky Summer can eagerly anticipate the arrival of her copy of the Sburb Gamma! It's been about seven years in the making, but they've supposedly picked out all the bugs.

You sit in your room, now in second person, enjoying the gentle light afforded by your candles. It's all you can do to block out the full daylight that would otherwise be streaming into your room. You had at one point tried to move into the basement to rectify this, but your bed was heavy and your heart wasn't in it in the end.

You are alone in your home for the time being, which would be nice, except that the mailman will be arriving shortly and will expect a delivery for the package containing your game! The one thing you dislike more than sunlight is interpersonal interaction with living humans in front of you. If only there was some way to take care of the situation without having to do anything at all.

A young woman kneels at her window with a camera. It just so happens that today, the 3rd of May, 2016, is the day which plucky Kate can eagerly anticipate the arrival of her copy of the Sburb Gamma! It's been about seven years in the making, but they've supposedly picked out all the bugs.

You are now in second person, and are intently focused on capturing on digital film the fat mouse on the tree outside your window on the second floor. Your tutor is expecting you to finish your integrals for pre-calc, and for your extensive work your mother is uncharacteristically bringing home the aforementioned game. At least, you hope so. If she anticipates your slacking she may have bypassed the store altogether.

You open the window to get a better view of the mouse. Much to your surprise and frustration at the contrived coincidence, an errant breeze draws your half-finished homework from your desk and into the open air! You watch it flutter to the ground below you.

[Amaril]

He probably just needs you to help him bring grocery bags in from the car, but he tends to get annoyed if you keep him waiting. Whatever. These clowns will never listen to you.

Closing out of the message board window, you roll back your swivel chair and leave your computer behind. The door to your bedroom is, of course, shut behind you as you leave--the more barriers between your personal space and the outside world, the better.

You head downstairs. Weighty tomes of American classics litter most available surfaces, their honored pages home to troves of wisdom. At least, you assume so--you've never read most of them. Sometimes you wonder how any mortal college student can pass one of your dad's classes without going mad from boredom or blind from eyestrain.

You search around for your guardian, wondering what he wants you for this time.

[Professor Gnoll]

Blonde roots? Again? This is just getting insufferable. How many times must you dye your hair before it learns its natural hue?
Of course, even looking at yourself in a mirror at all is something of a betrayal of your noble vampire heritage, but... you must look the part before you can be the part, so to speak.
Ohohohoho. Yes. This is good.
You gaze down upon the spreading limbs of black forests from the vaunted, misty peaks of your castled domain. The pale moon sends down pillars of faint light, shining against spreading darkness. Wolves howl, bats chitter- The children of the night sing, and they sing for you!
Of course! Your SBURB GAMMA is arriving today! There's no time for fooling around right now! You can almost hear it- the infernal whistling of the jolly postman who fast approaches, bringing with him his aura of joy and mailful delight. Such a thing is ANATHEMA to you.
If you respond to his call, he'll want to talk to you. And ask you how you've been.
Ugh.
But your despicably cheery Guardian isn't here, and if you don't pick up the package from him now, he'll take it back to the post office! And that will mean venturing from your unearthly domain, and braving sunlight and neighbours and happy woodland critters. You have no choice: You'll have to devise a plan to snatch the delivery away from him without making any sort of personal contact.
Of course! Your cheap piece of crap beautifully crafted HUNTER'S WHIP! The perfect tool for snatching things out of the hands of unsuspecting mailmen. All you'll have to do is lean out of the window and execute your daring maneuver.
Done. The weapon now sits comfortably in your WHIPKIND Strife Specibus. And what a beautiful weapon it is- dark, elegant, mysterious. Just like you.
Leaning out the window means exposing yourself to sunlight. And exposing yourself to sunlight means being burned away to dust, or even worse- getting a tan. Luckily, your black lace bedsheets serve many purposes, including but not limited to sleeping, make-believe castles, and most importantly- sun protection cloaks! You hurriedly swathe yourself in the dark, mysterious fabric. Now you need only wait until the object of your hunt arrives...

[ylvathrall]

THE NAME IS KAYLA, NUMBSKULL!!!!!

Slightly mollified by the use of your preferred (if completely fabricated) nomenclature, you take a moment to examine the garden. It's a pleasant enough garden, with some large trees which you occasionally like to climb in. To your left is a patch of brightly colored flowers you planted some time ago in order to have something bright in your life. Many of them are currently wilting or dead due to your inconsistent care.

You like the natural feel of the garden, but deep down you kind of wish that you'd gone along with your mother's request to have it landscaped like the rest of the grounds. One of these days you should clean it up a bit, maybe do some weeding and pruning. That is totally a thing that you will do. One of these days.

Of course! That was today! You aren't sure how you could have forgotten that your SBURB GAMMA will be arriving. Or, as you realize when you look up and see how late it's getting, probably already arrived. You forgot to bring a computing device when you went out to the garden, too. You probably have so many people pestering you about the game. You should go get that game and check it out. Unfortunately it looks like your mother is already back from...whatever it is she does. You'll have to risk an encounter with her to get the game discs and get to your room.

Meh.

That sounds so much more plausible. You just slouch back to the door and go inside, hoping that you can find the mail without running into her.

[Moonwolf727]

What? Why would you do that? It flew out the window, you won't even have to make up an excuse for not doing it this time. Except... oh dammit you need it for some reason don't you? What was it? All that normally happens when you don't do it is that your Mom complains and... wait, your Mom... THE GAME. Fine, but first...
You finish taking pictures of the mouse and captchalogue the camera by holding it in front of your face with both hands as if you were starting a photo shoot, your modus seems to find this acceptable. Time to leave the safety of your room for the perilous void of literally anywhere else. Where faces peer from myriad posters telling you that studying is the way to success and 'Harvard Wants You!' and you're almost certain that isn't even in your state dammit.
Your peer out of your door, cautiously. You can't actually see your living room from your doorway but the telltale sound of paper being stapled to walls seems far enough away that your Tutor shouldn't be in there. You round the corner into the living room and find yourself relieved that you were right, but also crushed under the palpable gaze induced by at least a dozen kittens hanging from trees. The pages are emblazoned with encouragement, your know their fates rest with you. AGH, THEY'RE JUST PICTURES WHY DO YOU FEEL GUILTY.
Okay. O-kay. This is fine because today you are actually going to do your homework so nothing will happen. Nothing ever happens because they aren't real but don't worry because nothing will happen. You scurry off into the next room but not before tearing several posters off of the walls first. Your Tutor will simply suspect the Owl you keep letting into the house.

[Grim ranger]

You do just so, but only with great reluctance. Your inquiries into possibility of adding more thorough musical studies into your ongoing virtual curriculum were frustratingly enough ultimately met with inconclusive results. On top of that, you had to spend good part of the evening navigating network of laser pointers connected to fire alarms to acquire your late evening snack. Your brother does not often go the whole hog like so when it comes to his little tests, but when he does you have learned to underestimate him at your own peril.

Staying up until late night and messing up your daily rhythm is really somewhat of a vicious cycle for you.

Getting dressed and booting up your computer, you ponder on how to broach the subject of car ride with your brother for the day. He will no doubt he somewhat on the amused side that you have almost slept in again, the smug jerk.

...Nnnno. You don't think you would like to do that. Besides, you will just end up failing and embarrassing yourself, wasting both time and good part of what little respect he might have for you. No, you need to figure out something else than wanton Strife today.

It is not a bad idea, so you proceed to log yourself onto the planet's premiere chat client, leaving a message to the general chat shared with your friends that you will be out for a while to acquire your copy of the game.

Afterwards, you proceed to equip your trusty PROP SHURIKEN and don your contact lenses before grabbing your only slightly pretentious black coat and heading off into the treacherous wilds of the apartment you share with your brother... Although your true goal lies somewhat further. Knowing him, your elder brother will most likely be found around the GARAGE at the bottom of the building, tinkering with his SUSPICIOUSLY MUNDANE SPORTS CAR.

[Nettlekid]

You send off a quick message to your chums. It doesn't look like anyone has pestered you recently.

You scamper through the long hallway and to the stairs which lead to the foyer. Though the room is without people, there is a hypnotic sound of a dozen ticking clocks perfectly in unison. Between the seconds you can hear dull humming and the sound of power tools coming from the garage, as predicted. The room though seems quite open, and entirely without traps. It would be only a good idea to walk blithely down the stairs.


You stealthily walk right through the front door. There is no one here. Of course there is no one here, there is never anyone here. That's the problem. Unfortunately, the mail is also not here. You have walked into the front hall, where there is a small stand for keys and a hook for jackets. To the left is a doorway into the dining room, and turning right from the dining room will lead you into the kitchen. To your immediate right is one living room with a fireplace which is never used, and further in is a study with many books and magazines. Also connected to the living room is a bathroom. At the end of this hallway is the rumpus room, which contains your TV and other rumpus material. It is a place for family gatherings and for feeling close to one another. You do not think it has ever been used for that. Just before the entrance to the rumpus room is the stairway which brings you to the second floor which contains a larger bathroom, your mother's room, a closet of cleaning supplies, and your room. It's possible the mail could have been left in any of these, but your mother may be in any as well.


You head downstairs, and let out a sigh. A faint breeze blows through the room, flipping the pages of the many books lying open in that room. You hear shuffling in the kitchen adjacent to the living room. You steel yourself in preparation for one of your father's frequent puzzles.


Like a sharp-eyed bat, you peer down to the bright and shiny world below. You wait...for a while...continuing to hold on...in anticipation...of the mailman who is arriving right now! So excited you are, you nearly lose your grip on the sill you hold yourself on! Here he is, coming up to your doorstep. You hear the bell ring as he presses it twice. He pushes some mail through the slot, but it looks like he has a larger parcel that he's hoping someone will sign for. He starts to go for his slips of little pink paper to mark down a failed delivery attempt.


You scramble down among the eyes of judgmental animals in static poses encouraging academic excellence. Your tutor is not immediately here, much to your relief and surprise. Out the window, you see your homework currently pressed against a low branch of a tree.

[Professor Gnoll]

You ready your whip to snatch the parcel right from his hands... but, well... You're not quite sure how to. Damnit. Probably should have tried practising your whip-grabbing before applying it in the field. Suppose you'll have to think of something else. If only you could turn into a bat, or some mist. Then it would all be so much easier.
Hmm. Wait, of course! If you lash your whip to the windowsill just there... you can swing down, obtain the package and return to your room before the vile deliverer of postal goods has a moment to react! What's more, if you hold your cloak, it will flare out behind you. Much like the wings of a bat.
It will be utterly spectacular.
You lash your whip to the windowsill, using a handy HANGMAN'S KNOT, tie your blanket around your neck for use as a cloak, and prepare to swing down. Grab the end of the whip... clamber over the frame... three, two, one...
FWOOOOOOSH!

[Grim ranger]

Yeah, there does not seem to be any problem immediately apparent to you as things are, so you proceed to make your way forward with all haste. Time has been a-wasting quite enough by now, so being paranoid over flight of stairs will most definitely be something you'll regret. You can only hope that your brother is in agreeable mood today instead of forcing you to run chores to acquire your trip over to GameSpot and your very own Sburb Gamma copy.

[Amaril]

It's probably nothing, but just in case, you should be prepared. Not that you can beat him even if you want to. Honestly, you're not sure why you even bother trying. Old habits die hard.

You take a deep breath and gather your faculties. You've done nothing wrong. Recently.
Nothing else for it. You head for the kitchen.

[ylvathrall]

Of course there's no one here. You aren't sure why you thought there would be.

You continue to slouch your way upstairs, thinking that you'll likely go to your room first. It's possible that your mother was thoughtful and/or organized enough to separate your mail and leave it there for you. Failing that, it will hopefully provide you with a chance to steel yourself before risking a confrontation with her.

[Moonwolf727]

You immediately sprint towards the tree and make a running jump while reaching up for the errant assignment. Alas! You cannot reach. Even with the benefits of being weirdly tall for your age. At this point you would consider knocking it down, but it would probably blow further away in this wind! Your hair is positively spazzing out in this heavy breeze.

Actually, you know what? Rather than building some stupid pile out of the few pieces of furniture in your house, you would rather try the first plan. You retrieve your CRUMMY BAT, without a pose thanks to it being in your STRIFE SPECIBUS and not the depths of your SYLLADEX. Now to hope this doesn't backfire. You wind up, jump, and give the offending branch a solid whack.

[Nettlekid]

You proceed without a care in the world, with the safety of a rabbit in an open field as a harmless shadow passes overhead.

Or perhaps you are not as safe as that rabbit! Foolishly placing your foot on the stair as you foolishly walk on it, a thin cord is pulled tight, then snaps. One of the clocks downstairs begins ringing, its tiny hammer going absolutely berserk on the pendulous bells sitting atop it.

Over the din of this ringing alarm clock, you hear something that you don't hear. The tools in the garage. You don't hear them anymore.


You are not surprised that your copy of the Gamma is not in your room. It's not like your mother ever lends you a hand, because it discourages you from developing a self-sufficient lifestyle. For better or worse, that methodology has indeed worked.

All of your things remain in your room, though, untouched from where you last left them. You do not hear your mother on the upper floor.


It was a ruse! Your father is nowhere to be seen. However, pinned to the fridge with a decorative magnet is one of his famous rebuses. It is succinct, because even for a genius like him it's difficult to make rebuses on Paint.

http://i66.tinypic.com/2qtzx51.png




You perform an acrobatic effing pirouette out of the window, young hands grasped firmly around your whip as an anchor to support yourself.

The good news is that your knot skills have improved, and the knot does not untie. This was a very real possibility that flashed before your eyes as you leaped.

The other good news is that the whip did not snap. This was also a very real possibility, because it is a piece of garbage.

The bad news is that you are not a burly, sweaty man made strong through butler milk, nor a creature of darkness capable of lifting a car with one hand. Or yourself. As it jerks to stop your fall the tip of the whip slips from your grip, and you plummet to the earthy ground below.

Your leg is not broken, but your ankle does seem to be sprained from the fall. It hurts quite a lot. The mailman seems startled and frantic, both by your appearance and your newfound distress.

As though seeking the great prize of candy torn from the carcass of a piñata, you splinter the branch on which rests your half-completed homework. It flutters to the ground, within your grasp. You have also substantially disturbed the sleeping owl who lives at the top of this very tree. What an unlikely coincidence!

[Professor Gnoll]

AAAAAAH THIS WAS SO PREDICTABLE WHY DID YOU THINK TRYING TO DO THAT WAS A GOOD IDEA
IT'S ALL OVER YOU, GET IT OFF!
It is of no matter! You are a powerful denizen of the night, not to be so easily slowed by a minor injury! It's time to get this package and return to your domain! You stand up, fall over, and then stand up again more slowly. You're going to get that package no matter how much blood you need to spill! Or how many of your own ankles you need to sprain. Either way. Prepare yourself, thrice-damned postal officer!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RKURlfskGsE
Try to grab the package from his very hands, using your terrifying vampiric speed!
If successful, limp away with all of the fearful grace you can muster. Which, at this point in time, is very little. Also, might want to pick up your blanket. It's getting kind of dirty out here.

[Grim ranger]

In retrospect, you really should have seen that one coming... But there is no time to worry about it now, no time to dally! Every second you delay will push your chances of playing the game with your compatriots that much further, so you might as well get the inevitable confrontation of combat technique and merciless bartering over with sooner rather than later.

Preparing yourself the best you can, you equip yourself with your PROP SHURIKEN, managing to hold trio of the things between fingers of both hands before you leap into the room with your coat flaring behind you in stylish manner... You hope. God, how you hope so.

Still, you will settle for getting this over with instead of earning admiration or respect right about now.

[Amaril]

What the f*** is this.

Your dad has insisted on communicating important information through these accursed riddles as long as you can remember. When pressed to explain, he says something about a well-rounded education in solving unexpected problems, and that one day you'll thank him for it.

God, he is so weird.

Well, might as well get to solving it. Even if he's around somewhere, it's not like you'll persuade him to give the solution away. He never has before.
What amazing puzzle-solving skills? You're terrible at puzzles and always have been. You've never managed to complete a single puzzle game without looking up a walkthrough online. "Solving" your dad's rebus puzzles is usually more a matter of bashing your head against every possible solution that seems to make any sense until you manage to get it right.
Okay, okay, fine. Let's take a look.

Well, the first two parts are easy, at least. "Game" is the first line, and "in" is the second. Wait, does that mean your copy of Sburb is finally here? Sweet!

Shame the last part seems like complete nonsense. The second image is pretty clearly supposed to be "oar" rather than "paddle", but what's this other s***? Olives? Breadsticks? Goddammit, why can't he just communicate like a normal, non-insane member of society?

Well, let the head-bashing begin, you guess. You open up the pantry and look around for olives and/or breadsticks.

[ylvathrall]

The game isn't here. You know the game isn't here. You knew the game wouldn't be here before you even walked in.

You still spend a few minutes looking just on the off chance that your mother might have left it in here anyway.

You start by spending a few minutes reading SBaHJ comics at random. You aren't sure why you do this, since you don't even like the comic. You aren't sure anyone actually likes the comic. You've spent a lot of hours killing time by looking at it, though. It is astonishing the lengths to which you will go to put off things you're supposed to be doing.

Eventually your irritation with the stupid comic outweighs your inertia, and you get out of your chair. You kill a bit more time making sure that your OLD POCKETKNIFE is appropriately slotted in your STRIFE SPECIBUS, even though you really don't think you'll need it. Even if you are confronted by your mother you'll probably just ABSCOND, like usual.

Finally you're forced to acknowledge that you can't put it off any longer. You sadly don't have much steel in you, but you are perhaps aluminumed for confrontation, and that's going to have to be good enough.

The game is probably with the rest of the mail in one of the other rooms. Starting with your mother's room seems like a spectacularly bad idea, so you decide to head back downstairs and check the living room and attached study. Those are perfectly reasonable places for mail to be.

[Nettlekid]

You enter the room to the sound of a massive audience cheering as generated by a soundboard and the revving of engines. It looks like your brother has become overly enthused about his dreams to become a drag racer, and plans to use you as practice! You can vaguely see his silhouette through the tinted glass of his would-be-stylish-if-it-wasn't-homemade-from-weird-scavenged-parts racecar, which is humming in anticipation. Making a high-pitched whine is an insultingly small, pink go-kart bouncing next to it. This is your ride, clearly. It looks like if you're to badger any kind of ride to the game store out of your brother, you're going to have to best him in this race first!


You creep back down the stairs, steeled for any strife. To your continued relief your mother does not seem to be in these rooms, but to your continued disappointment neither is your game. The ironically named living room is bare and a little dusty, and all the furniture is covered in plastic to keep it clean and make it impossible to sit on. The study beyond is a little more messy and seems to be filled with tax papers. The shelves are lined with notable titles like Huckleberry Finn, a Tale of Two Cities, Oliver Twist, A Clockwork Orange, and the Chronicles of Narnia. These strike you as somewhat peculiar choices.


Opening the cabinet sends an avalanche of poorly stacked food products spilling down upon you. You will never understand your father's obsession with Tab. Unfortunately it looks like there are no olives in the mix.

You wonder if maybe one of your friends might be able to puzzle this out even if you can't.


The postman is startled, to say the least! With the feral speed of a wounded cat you struggle to steal the package from him. A more professional Parcel Mistress might have put up more of a fight, but this man is no mistress.

With the package in hand you jiggle the doorknob, but like any reasonable household's front door it is locked tight. You dejectedly limp past the still staggered postman and around the side of the house with your blanket.

[Professor Gnoll]

This is not worth celebrating. It's only worth forgetting about entirely and never bringing up again. You'll have to ensure nobody ever learns of this. You're already devising a more flattering version of the story to post in the chatroom.
Aah. That's better. The fine black cloth shields you from the dreaded sunlight. This keeps it from trailing in the dirt, too.
Also, it's really comfy. Makes you feel pretty safe. You might even smile if you hadn't decided to stop smiling several weeks ago. It's an image thing.
Got to walk around the side of the house... pointedly ignore the multiple colourful murals... turn your nose up at the flowerboxes... don't make eye contact with that nearby gambolling fawn... Maintain your elegant stride... If only you hadn't sprained your ankle. Instead of a graceful glide, you're only really achieving a sort of jerky hobble. See, this is why you try to avoid leaving your room. It never seems to end well. Now where's that spare key? Under that flowerpot, perhaps? Oh, wait. There it is. In the beak of a precious little bluebird.
Gah.
Stupid lousy undark bluebird. Why couldn't this place get a few nice bats? Or some wolves? Well, at least this particular bluebird is amenable to key-giving. You did have to use one of your... cutesier looks, but it's all in the past now and you have the key and lets just get back into the dark before you throw up.
Oh Vlad damnit.
Summer: Happy happy pretty key,
You're so cute and shi-i-ny~!
You make me vant to make a 'squee!'
Von't you get this door for me?
You succeed... for now. Stupid fetch modus. You've tried composing elegant gothic poetry using it, but the stupid thing won't actually work for anything but the cutesiest of rhymes. At least it recognises your accent, which you've been polishing for months now.
Gladly. You open the door and head as quickly as possible to the safety of your dark sanctum. That's what you've been calling your room lately. It's a good name.
You forget to close the door behind you.

[Grim ranger]

You feel quite miffed at this development, proceeding to irritably toss one handful of your PROP SHURIKEN at the frontplate of the sportscar in most expressively moody fit that you have had in a while. Though not much by standards of some, the angry flailing about and measure of indiscriminate throwing of random objects are rather new level to you.

Still, your tantrum subsides remarkably quickly as logic (and downright awkwardness) get the better of it. Time is wasting still, you are just making yourself look worse, and you doubt you can get out of this one... So you may as well try to handle this pinnacle of humiliation to come right now, eh?
Stomping over to the ridiculous go-kart, you go on to take a seat on it, pondering on your chances of success. You have half the mind to blow the tire of the thing with strategic application of sharp objects, but you are not sure that your PROP SHURIKEN can inflict enough damage for such a trick against likely reinforced rubber... And besides, if you break the car before you can get the game, no ride for you. It seems you will be forced to handle this the hard way.

Seeing that your brother has set up the soundboard to apparently imitate a real racetrack, you decide to focus on it to notice possible starting sign early and maybe get a headstart. You have some doubts regarding the top speed of your current ride, but if there will be turns you should be able to make them quite a lot easier than he can.

Then again, the man is not a secret agent for nothing. Once again you find yourself wishing that you would have less quirky legal guardian.

[Amaril]

Good idea. Your combined powers will surely be match for such a challenge.

You pull out your phone and take a picture of the puzzle for reference, then open up the Pesterchum app to your group chat.
DM: Hey, anybody on?
DM: Apparently my copy of Sburb is finally here, but my dad wants me to solve another f***ing rebus puzzle to get it.
DM: http://i66.tinypic.com/2qtzx51.png
DM: I can't figure the last line out. Help? :/

[ylvathrall]

You spend a few minutes looking at the books. You have seen them all before. Nothing has changed in this room. Nothing ever changes in this room. You think your mother chose these books in an attempt to engage your sense of childish whimsy. This would likely have been more successful if you were in any way childish or whimsical.

You aren't sure why you felt the need to look at the books again. You feel very confident that no obviously important information was gained here.

You go back up to your room to delay the inevitable confrontation some more, with the excuse that your mother might have finished processing the mail and left it here. Or, in a more likely but still pretty unlikely case, that something might have happened with your chums that you should be there for. This is their big day, after all.

To your surprise, it looks like there actually is a chum in need of help.

Luckily, in a bizarrely fortunate coincidence, you happen to have been primed in just the right way to see the answer to the annoying rebus puzzle. The fact that you're able to contribute in a meaningful way for once is so surprising you question the accuracy of your guess for a moment, but it seems correct, and the chance to help your chum is not one to pass on just out of indecision.

This turn of events is clearly entirely random and doesn't presage anything at all about the game you're about to play. Really.

17:45: quietKitsune began pestering the board Games and things
QK: hey. i got my copy too but i dont know where it is. going to look in moms room next i guess
QK: will let you guys know if i find it tonight
QK: oh but i think i think i know the answer adam. might be wrong but i think its saying oliver twist
QK: guess your dad has the same taste in books as my mom. figures i suppose

Okay, you can't put it off any longer. Luckily being able to help your chum has improved your mood somewhat, and you feel like you might be able to handle the inevitable confrontation reasonably well for once. You think things might be different this time. You're wrong, of course, but for now you have a small scrap of that treasure called hope.

Hope really isn't your field, though. So in order to shred it and return to your proper place, you decide to go grab the game from where everyone knew it was all along: in your mother's room.

[Nettlekid]

As you take your cramped seat in this sporty go-kart, the crowd goes wild. Then a hush settles upon them. You hear three peals in quick succession, followed by a louder ring. You recognize that note! It's sampled from Mario Kart! Your brother, clever beast that he is, had begun to rev his motor a half second after the second peal, gaining that coveted boost to begin!

The pair of you tear out from the garage, and-Oh, who are you trying to kid? The man has a legitimate vehicle. You're zipping along at a quick pace, faster than a motorized scooter, but it's all you can do to stay close enough to draft him. It would be quite a different issue if you had a blue shell to your name. But even as you look, an entirely unreasonable number of banana peels begin dropping from your brother's car's undercarriage!


--After any extended Pestering--

You head down into your mother's room with less caution than you have previously, entering with abandon.

Your mother is in this room! How inauspicious! As though gravity has increased tenfold, you feel on your shoulders the enormous weight of the pressure she puts you under to succeed and excel. Your mother is at her mirror, but she turns toward you as she hears the door open. You have only moments to gain the upper hand!



Your ankle is still throbbing, which is very distracting as you hobble up the stairs and into your home. But at the end of the day, which happens to be around noon here, you have the package! You open it up and a pair of dull beige envelopes prove themselves your plundered booty.

[Moonwolf727]

You do just that, hooting all the while in the hopes that the Owl will follow you inside. Your tutor is far more likely to believe the Owl excuse again with it there in the flesh, after all. You sprint as fast as your gangly, loping stride will carry you back through the house to your room!

Except for how you just ran straight into a thing in the living room and fell on your butt. The Owl is hot on your trail and making a lot of noise as you look up to see what obstacle you just impacted. Was there always something right here?

[Professor Gnoll]

You head into your room, pointedly ignoring the garishly cutesy décor that surrounds you. Utterly wretched.
Ah, finally. Safety at last. Your room is dark and tastefully decorated with no colours other than black, red, and the occasional purple. Lace! Candles! Sunlight? Damnit! You quickly close the curtains. A shame you tied your HUNTER'S WHIP so tightly. You'll figure out how to unknot it later. For now you just have to stop the sunlight from bleaching/tanning anything. But seriously, your room is incredible. The plastic bats hanging from the ceiling. Your prop skeleton, which you occasionally use to model gothic clothing. You wish you could show your room to your friends subjects and bask in their jealousy. Unfortunately, there's no mechanism you can imagine that would allow them to even look at it, let alone interact with it. Impossible.
Bela Lugosi. Christopher Lee. Gary Oldman.
<3
Beautifully bound in what you like to pretend is genuine bat hide. Written in what you like to pretend is genuine blood. Filled with very, very interesting facts about your personal sh-WOAH WOAH WOAH PUT THAT AWAY. No one must ever know.
At once! What Voivode is without a castle from which to survey their dark kingdom? You swiftly assemble your blanket and bed into a mighty fortress. The perfect place from which to initiate communication with your many subjects.
17:50: moonlitDemeter began pestering the board Games and things.
MD: As usual, it falls to Me to lead the vay in Effectiveness.
MD: I have already obtained my Copy. It currently resides in my Very Hand.
MD: I obtained it after a spectacular display of Athletics and Dark Power after I svooped down, Bat-Like, upon an Unsuspecting Postal Officer, and snatched it from his very hands.
MD: And then I broke his Ankle.
MD: I shall now use my Dish Of Blood to Divine the correct way to go about playing this Game.
moonlitDemeter changed the board name to Throne Room of the Voivode
MD: Much better.
...
Now that's something you can actually do. You begin to scour the 'vorld vide veb' for answers.

[Grim ranger]

Truly surprised that your brother has gone through THIS much trouble for his next little trick on such short notice, you only barely resist the urge to yell out in frustration. Of course he has to do this right when you have important schedule to keep! You very much doubt that your friends will wait for you forever...hell, if at all, you are not most notable of people in said circle of friends anyhow.

Still, this is the situation you are stuck on, so you might as well try to resolve it to the best of your ability. Digging into your experience concerning Mario Kart, you quickly come up with a basic plan even as you swerve to hopefully avoid the banana peels.
Seeing that you will not be winning this contest just by trying your best to keep up as things are, it is time to go onto the offensive. As a rule, Mario Kart puts larger cars onto corner of better top speed, while smaller ones benefit from better acceleration. You will be able to recover from your mistakes easier with your little go-kart than he can with his massive metal beast.

Keeping a wary eye on the road to make sure he won't try to surprise you with another batch of banana peels or possibly bomb cube, you bring up your REACTION MODUS, aiming to use it to either retrieve your lunch to use as improvised projectile against your brother's window... or miss the presses of the buttons and hope that your modus currently contains something capable of shooting out and hitting his tires.

[Amaril]

Of course. How did you not get that. Maybe you really should read more of your dad's books.
DM: Goddammit, you're totally right. I'm such an idiot >_<
DM: Okay, I'm gonna go get my copy.
DM: Anybody else besides Summer have theirs in hand yet?
You're not about to be put off when you're this close! Time to go in search of some classic literature!

The book should be somewhere downstairs with the others. Leaving your chat window for the moment, you venture once more down the stairs to look.

Now all you have to do is find the book you actually want in the middle of an approximate f***ton of others that all look exactly the same. Wonderful.

[ylvathrall]

The effects as you enter the room are instant and obvious. Your shoulders slump, and you fall back into your usual slouch. Your head bows and you stare at the floor just in front of your feet. Your hands quickly duck into pockets. Your face collapse from an almost-smile to its usual flat, empty state.

The conclusion would seem pretty clear. Whether hope has flown away in a night or in a day, in a vision or in none, it is still pretty definitely gone. And knowing that it took so little to lose it just makes you feel like having it in the first place was a pointless joke.

Still staring at the floor, you mumble out an inquiry into the possibility of mail having arrived for you. You sincerely hope she does not ask what is in said mail, or why you need it. With luck she may think it is something for school. She may think you need materials for some ambitious project, or...something.

That would seem to be a rather improbable amount of luck. But it's more possible that she might simply not care. You've certainly given her plenty of reason not to.

[Nettlekid]

For all the effort he's put into the cars, the track that you find yourself racing on isn't all that inspired. Well, even with his time and resources, there's a limit to what people can do. It's not like your brother has some quasi-magical means of altering your environment remotely or generating matter spontaneously. Your track is little more than a wide loop circling your house, cutting inbetween the forested area out back and breaking onto the main roads for the last stretch of each lap. In the forest you have the advantage in making tight turns and weaving, but on that straightaway you lose considerable ground. It's a long loop, but fortunately it looks like your zippy little car is remarkably fuel efficient and you have gas to spare. You break onto the main road, nearing the end of the first lap as your brother peels away from you.

You take advantage of the straight shot to fire your lunch like a projectile weapon. Your sandwiches flop away into the breeze. You berate yourself, fool that you are, because you will be hungry in not a long while.


Bead of sweat on his brow and scarred fingers shaking to hold the drawstring back, the mailman begins to wonder what happened to you.


Your mother seems annoyed that you're bothering her, and that you have enough time to be running around the house getting up to mischievous antics, japes, and tomfoolery instead of making something of yourself and being a respectable member of the household. You are also berated for your poor enunciation and meekness in voicing your request. You won't get anywhere in life if you cannot be clear, direct, grounded, assertive, and concise.

That said, she waves you off. Your mother had picked up the mail coming in, and left her magazines in the rumpus room by the television. If anything of yours was tossed in the mix. That is not an invitation to make use of the television itself, she reminds you.


It would be absolutely impossible to discern one of these many books from all the others. Except for the fact that they all have their names on the outside. That makes it pretty easy to find Oliver Twist. You do so, and recover the game disk envelopes without further fuss.


As you wait for your friends to reply, you scour the net for information on how to better play this game. Because who doesn't want spoilers, right? On GameFAQs you find a selection of reviews for the Beta version of this game, so you imagine some of the bugs you can expect will have been worked out of the system. There's quite a selection, but one in particular has a file size about twenty times larger than any of the others. Probably full of ASCII artwork.


The thing that you have run into was indeed not there initially, because it is a mobile object. In fact, the mobile entity that you have run into is your tutor! You probably should have wondered where she had gone off to, but you had not. After what she perceives as this initial Aggression, your tutor is not in a happy mood. Your tattered sheet of educational material is not speaking to your favor either.

[Professor Gnoll]

Well, the bigger file size seems promising. You swiftly open the link.
Hmm. Walkthrough... Incomplete? Well, better than nothing. Best get started. ... Hehe. Okay, you like the cut of this "TT"'s jib. Wait, end of the world? Seems that despite her protestations to the contrary, this TT certainly has a flair for the overdramatic. The information continues along a melodramatic streak, taking care to note in great detail the 'madness' and 'destruction' that will ensue. Bela's cape, doesn't she realise it's just a game? The information, at least, is relevant, though it seems to descend into irritating jargon, with endless references to 'incisispheres' and 'cruxtruders' and all manner of made-up jargon.
It only gets stranger as it goes on. Destiny? You appreciate the reference to necromancy and catacombs, though. Tasteful. It gets even weirder halfway through when the author of the guide spontaneously changes. Complicated explanations of pre-punched cards and captchas ensue, along with references to a mysterious 'Rose' and 'Dave' and 'Jade'. Just what exactly is going on here?
Well, there's only a little left... might as well finish it.
...
And you thought that the first part made no sense. Elder Gods. Magic is real. Well, you did always suspect... but given the way that the whole thing descends into some ridiculous mess of colour and glitches at the end, it appears the entire operation was just some kind of elaborate practical joke. Damn, you hope you didn't accidentally download a virus.
But... if magic was real... you might actually...
No time to worry about that right now. Better update your friends.
moonlitDemeter began pestering the board Throne Room of the Voivode at 17:55
MD: An Update on my future-divining via my Dish of Blood.
MD: Apparently, this Game is more Complex than it seems. The only Real Source I could find mentioned the end of the Vorld, but that might have been a Jest.
MD: Or perhaps a bug. Some kind of game crash, perhaps. If so, our Gamma Version should be cleared of the Offending Programming Error.
MD: In any case, at least some of the Information that I Divined should prove Useful to our Cause. I vill continue to scour for Guidance.
MD: Additionally, a Point of Order before we go any further. I have decided to change my name, as "Summer" fails to adequately capture my Gothic Nature.
MD: My name is now Vladimira. Do not refer to Me by any Other Appellation.
Unfortunately, there does not appear to be any guide more developed than that which you have already found. Most are either incomplete or incomprehensible. Looks like you'll just have to rely on this mysterious 'TT'.

[Amaril]

Oh, come on! Even with the titles on the spines, they look pretty damn similar at a distance when lined up together on a shelf. And your dad has a LOT of bookshelves. Searching over every one still qualifies as a hassle you're allowed to complain about.
THANK you.

Luckily, it doesn't end up taking long to find after all. But it could have. Hmph.
You quickly turn the book spine-up and give it a shake. A pair of envelopes fall out, bearing the Sburb and Skaianet logos.

You got the Sburb gamma!

You quickly captchalogue both. Luckily, their small size makes storing them in your Bag of Holding modus a trivial matter.

Your phone buzzes from the sylladex as you do so, alerting you to more incoming messages. Doesn't sound like anything important. Might as well update everybody on your progress, though.
DM: Got my copy!
DM: We're supposed to have two discs each, right?
DM: Anyway, I'm gonna go install these f***ers.
DM: You guys just let me know when you're all ready to get started. I'll be waiting!

[Grim ranger]

Your lunch is gone to the winds, with nary a messed windshield to show for it. Not that you won't be able to assemble another soon enough, but you will most likely be right hungry once you'll finally be back from getting the game.

Damnit.
There is only one thing left for you try to any more. Barring superior knowledge of the map or items (which you lack while your brother does not), there is really only one thing that can turn a match of Mario Kart around... A legendary set of maneuvers that are reserved for more expert players.

Namely, DRIFTS.

Preparing for your moment, you push your wheel sharply to the side, sending your tiny little cart drifting just left the next curve. There may not be blue sparks, but you can do this! You can over take his care in every curve if he wants to avoid just running you over: as competitive as he is, you very much doubt he'd just crush you so literally. That'd go against the spirit of the game after all.

[Moonwolf727]

You frantically explain that this isn't what it looks like and you were retrieving your work after this damnable Owl, "scourge of the household" you call it, stole it from you. And then it followed you back into your house, just look at it flapping around causing all this hoo-ha. Truly a menace! Anyway you really have to get on with this, uh... you steal a glance at the sheet, maths, yeah. You sprint upstairs and close the door before your Tutor has the chance to raise a counterargument, leaving her to deal with the feathered fiend.

You do just that, back pressed against your door. You are only now noticing the pesterchum alerts from within your sylladex. Were those going off while you were talking? Damnit.

Skimming through the chat reveals the usual hubbub, someone changed the name again, Summer is exercising her weird magic sources for your collective benefit, and Adam still can't solve puzzles.
Enough lollygagging. Is that even a thing people say? You wonder where it came fro- NO! You weakly pound your fist on the desk to emphasize your own thoughts. You are going to do this no matter how much you want to nab one of your books or get lost in your own imagination.

Forcing yourself to sit at the desk, you begin your toil.

[ylvathrall]

You do not so much flee as shrug, mumble a sort of combined agreement and apology, and slouch away at your usual pace. It is one of the most lackluster absconsions in the history of paradox space.

So you could have gotten the game without confronting your mother after all. This thought does not fill you with a great deal of happiness.

You head down to the rumpus room and look at the pile of mail. The discs are right there, of course, in neatly labeled envelopes between copies of HIGH-POWERED BUSINESS WEEKLY and MODERN GENETICS. You are not sure what those things have to do with each other. It would likely help if you had any idea what your mother actually did for a living, but she's never bothered to explain, and you've never bothered to ask.

It looks like MODERN GENETICS this month is a special issue about plant cloning, though. So perhaps that magazine is representative of your mother's insistence upon increasingly elaborate landscaping for the house grounds. It is a wonder that your messy garden has lasted in its current state for as long as it has.

In any case! You have the game now. You take it and head back up to your room.

quietKitsune began pestering the board Throne Room of the Voivode at 17:58
QK: hey so i got my copy of the game i think
QK: i guess ill start installing it now then. shouldnt take too long i think
QK: oh i think you should maybe take that a bit more seriously though vladimira. the end of the world thing i mean. i feel like something bad will happen if we play this game. but it will probably happen anyway? so it might not matter
QK: i dont know maybe im just being a downer like usual. anyway ill go install this thing. anyone want to go first for playing?

[Professor Gnoll]

moonlitDemeter began pestering the board Throne Room of the Voivode at 17:59
MD: I'll strive to treat the Issue with Grave Concern, then.
MD: In reference to your Offer of Cooperative Playing: It seems that this Game is to be played in Pairs and Pairs alone.
MD: A Shame ve do not have a Sixth Player. It vould make things more Simple.
MD: As it stands ve may need to Devise some sort of Convoluted Series of Server-to-Player Shenanigans.
MD: In any case, I believe I vill pair with Adam for the time being.
The disc whirrs.

[Nettlekid]

You jump in your seat to pop the cart up, and then deliberately skid out on the wheels to slide over the curve at the end of the straightaway. This is a surefire strategy to catch up to your brother!

Roll of Destiny: [roll0]


PSYCHE!

What is this to you, some kind of a game?! You don't have the requisite skills to pull off a sweet maneuver like that! You don't even have a license. You turn too far, your go-kart's meager tires failing to grip at the end of your drift and sending you first spinning out, then flipping. The cart lands on its roll bars leaving you strapped in, unharmed and upside down. The cart's wheels spin futilely, treading air.


PSYCHE!

What is this to you, some kind of a game?! You don't have the requisite skills to pull off a sweet maneuver like that! You don't even have a license. You turn too far, your go-kart's meager tires failing to grip at the end of your drift and sending you first spinning out, then flipping. The cart lands on its roll bars leaving you strapped in, unharmed and upside down. The cart's wheels spin futilely, treading air.



Neat. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JUWXoOZq1zs)



http://cdn2.hubspot.net/hub/360031/hubfs/body_ACT_1112_-_51.png?t=1463765238903&width=343
http://cdn2.hubspot.net/hub/360031/hubfs/body_ACT_0809_-_57.png?t=1463765238903&width=343

http://cdn2.hubspot.net/hub/360031/hubfs/body_ACT_1516_-_57.png?t=1463765238903&width=313
http://cdn2.hubspot.net/hub/360031/hubfs/body_ACT_0809_-_55-1.png?t=1463765238903&width=363

[Professor Gnoll]

Looks like you're ready to begin. Better get your partner on board.
You disconnect from the group chat to form a two-way conversation with your chum.
moonlitDemeter began pestering dungeonMastery at 18:01
MD: Adam. It appears that ve are the two Initial Installers of this Game.
MD: Accordingly, ve should form a Pair and begin to play At Once.
MD: It Appears that one of us vill be a 'Server' vhile the other is a 'Player'.
MD: If you've any Preference, state so Immediately.
MD: Oh, and Something else.
MD: I was just vondering.
MD: If you happened to Knov.
MD: If Kayla's hair colour is Natural.
MD: I am simply asking out of Curiosity.
MD: ...
MD: Do you knov?

[Amaril]

No more wasting time. Let's get this show on the f***ing road!

You pop the first disc in your computer and wait.

After a few seconds, the telltale whirring of the disc drive tells you something is about to happen. But before you can get too excited, it turns out to just be an installer window.

"SBURB client is running.

Waiting for server to establish connection..."

What the f*** is this.
DM: Okay, well, I just popped one of my discs in, and it says the client is running, and I need a server to establish a connection.
DM: So I guess that makes me the player?
DM: I mean, I'm sure I can switch now, if you want me to be the server.
DM: Either way is fine.
DM: And I don't know about her hair. Sorry :/

[Grim ranger]

Letting out a cry of pure frustration, you struggle futilely against the straps before doing the smart thing and undoing them with click of the button operating the seatbelt. Falling out of the upside-down cart and kicking it once you have crawled clear, you sit next your trashed ride, dejected: it seems that your hopes have once again been sorely dashed.

Not that it isn't the norm to you at this point. You just hope your brother is done now so the two of you can get going and actually grab the game. At least his car being undamaged means you still havr a shot at getting a ride over to the GameSpot.
Alright, so you have not beaten him in this little racing challenge, but with the odds stacked against you you doubt there was ever much chance of that. Right now you just want to get this over with so you don't have to end up in another bit of needless strife, and luckily you have an inkling of an idea as to how to accomplish it.

Standing on the side of the track and lifting your thumb up in timeless HITCHHIKERS GESTURE, you take on your pleading and miserable look, hoping to accurately convey just how distraught you are if you are not getting the ride you need.

[Moonwolf727]

Okay. You can do this. There's a lot of printed cats putting their trust in you to really bring your A-game this time. But on the other hand... No. Just looking at these problems tells you all you need to know. That you don't have a clue how to solve this. There is still the old standby method though.
You hop onto your computer and open up the browser. It's time to source some answers from the infinite expanse of the web! There aren't any sections asking you to show your workings after all. You do see that some of your tabs from a previous session are still hanging around though. You take a peek and...
Wait what. You snap out of your reverie surprised at the sound of the doorbell ringing. That has to be your Mother, she never uses her keys and you doubt anyone else has come calling. How is she here already?! You were only catching up on some blogs! You scramble to find answers to the questions on your sheet, or at least ones that look right. You just have to hope your Mother doesn't notice.

[Nettlekid]

Summer has established a connection as a server to Adam's player


After being passed up for a ride by a few classy and stylish vehicles, one of which was your own brother's as he makes the second lap, you are picked up by a young woman in a jeep. You briefly and succinctly explain your situation, and she's headed into the heart of town so she can drop you off near the store. She does so, and the ride is smooth.


Your mother has returned! She is speaking with your tutor about your tomfoolery, and after a little while comes up to check on the work you've done. She doesn't know the answers, so it looks fine to her. She smiles and pats you on the head, and remembers to leave the games that she picked up for you on your bed as she heads downstairs.

[Professor Gnoll]

Server established. An image of Adam's room appears on your screen.And there's Adam! Staring into his screen, as you imagine he spends the vast majority of his time doing. The guide told you you'd be able to interact with the environments of other players, but you didn't realise it would be in such a direct way. Guess you should try out a few things.
So this is what his room looks like. Hmm. Not as many video games as you'd expected, though still a clearly excessive amount. You suppose he uses Vapor for most of them. A remarkable amount of books and dice, though.
MD: So. This is Sburb.
MD: I can See you Right Now. Sitting in your Svivel Chair.
MD: Looking, as usual, like a Huge and also Lame Nerd.
MD: >:E
MD: That vas an Attempt at a Vampire Emoticon.
MD: The E is Pointed, Deadly Fangs.
MD: ...Anyvay.
MD: It seems the Purpose of this Game is to allov me to interact with your Environment.
MD: I shall nov proceed to Test some Interactions.
MD: I hope that you are Ready.
MD: Tell me. Do you keep anything... Illicit under that Bed of yours?
MD: E;<
You use your mouse pointer to lift up Adam's bed.

[Grim ranger]

Alas, your attempt to guilt-trip your brother into give you a lift seems to have failed, but luckily there are drivers less focused on personally antagonizing you, and you are finally at your destination! of course, you have absolutely no idea as to how you are going to make the trip back to the apartment, but at the very least you are almost halfway done with this now! It is a good thing too, considering you doubt that your friends want to wait all that much when it comes to playing this masterpiece of a game. So time is of the essence!

Waving your goodbyes to the helpful jeep driver, you go on to scamper to the GameSpot.
Entering the store, you waste little time going through the shelves, and go on to accost a hapless STORE CLERK to ask for your pre-ordered purchase.

[Nettlekid]

You have acquired the two copies of your Sburb Gamma! And the collector's Imp figurine that comes with the preorder. Since nothing about the game suggests the presence of Imps, this is befuddling to you. Ugly fellow.

You are now at the mall. You do not have a ride back.

[Moonwolf727]

You can barely believe that worked, except for how your Mother has fallen for the same trick a few times in the past. Your grubby little mitts hold the two Sburb disks like they're a precious treasure. Were there meant to be two though? Heck if you know, but it seems normal because the wrappings have different labels on them; 'Server' and 'Player'.
cautiouslyPessimistic began pestering the board Throne Room of Voivode
CP: Assuming you're not all playing already?
CP: I suppose I should be happy to announce that my copy of Sburb has arrived!?
CP: The pairing thing might be a problem but I guess we can leave it to later like Vladimira said?
CP: I'm sure things will work out?
CP: Anyone want to partner up?

[ylvathrall]

quietKitsune began pestering the board Throne Room of the Voivode at 18:25
QK: well i think wed better have some idea whos with who
QK: cant pair off evenly without marc....
QK: if vladimira is adam's server player we can start the chain there
QK: vladimira > adam > me > kate > mercury > vladimira maybe
QK: unless someone has an idea they like more i guess. im not in charge just think it will work better if we have a plan
QK: anyway im booting up the server disk now so i guess whoever wants to pair with me can play

[Amaril]

DM: Well Marc can just join in later, right?
DM: I mean, for now I guess the whole chain thing sounds better to me than pairs.
DM: I'd rather all be playing the same game than be all fragmented.
DM: And yeah, it's the only way none of us get left out.
DM: And cut that out, V, you won't find anything. Who bothers with hardcopy porn anymore? :P
DM: So you can see me? What does that guide say I'm supposed to do?
DM: It better not be just sitting here and watching you f*** up my room XD

[Grim ranger]

Although you are happy that you have managed to successfully procure your SBURB COPY, you are left in bit of a predicament to say the least. Not that you would be worried about EVER getting home again, but you would rather not waste the entire evening walking back if you can help it. Thus, you improvise.

Deciding to make use of KINDNESS OF STRANGERS as it has saved you from your previous spot of trouble, you proceed to wander the mall asking around whenever or not anybody happens to be driving to the direction of your apartment. You also keep an eye out for your brother's FRANKENSTEINIAN AFFRONT TO AUTOMOBILES, but you doubt you'll be seeing him.

[Nettlekid]

You see no trace of your brother's car, but you realize he has been here. He has left your silly little pink go-kart outside the front of the mall. There is a note.


Coulda driven to the mall yourself, stupid


Well, that's that.

[Professor Gnoll]

MD: ...Can't Blame a Voivode for trying.
MD: Also, you seem like the Kind of Person who would keep Physical Copies of things.
MD: Are those Dice I see?
MD: But I Digress.
MD: The Purpose of this Game is... Unclear.
MD: It looks like I can Deploy certain Tools.
MD: You can use these Tools to create Cool Stuff.
MD: Or at least, vhatever You think is Cool.
MD: Which is undoubtedly the Lamest Concoctions this Vorld has ever Vitnessed.
MD: Once you've done That, you proceed to... Something.
MD: This Guide is startlingly Unclear.
MD: Ve may simply have to Guess.
MD: Oh, and.
MD: Apparently, it is a Bad Idea to Activate the 'Cruxtruder' before you are Ready.
MD: Do Not ask me Vhy.
MD: Here Goes.
Wow. That certainly is some weird equipment showing up on your interface. Guess you'll just chuck it down wherever.
You delete Adam's bed. Hope he doesn't feel sleepy any time soon.
Plonk! Have fun, Adam.
MD: Try using that. See vhat it does.
MD: Oh. Sorry about your Non-Coffin Sleeping Thing.
MD: Because I sleep in a Coffin, I did not Know what it Vas, and Destroyed it.
MD: E:<

[Grim ranger]

Your palm meets your face with resounding smack the instant you are done reading the message, frustration and embarrassment welling up inside you until you almost feel like yelling again. Although you are glad that you now have a way back to your apartment, you regardless don't feel very happy about seeing the damned go-kart again.

Still, beggars cannot be choosers, and you have been out of time for good while already. You never seem to have enough, especially not today.

Placing the game securely to your coat pocket, you go on and begin your trip back. Although the go-kart is not quite as good as any real car, it definitely beats running back.