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Messages - Baron

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Baron: 4
Mandle: 1
JudasFM: 5
Ponch: 3
Sinitrena: 5

You sure about that? By my count it is:
Mandle: 2
JudasFm: 5
Baron: 5
Ponch: 3
Sinitrena: 6

I think you missed JudasFm's votes here on page 3.

Oh, those hanging chads; when will they ever learn?? (roll)

Congratulations Sini! ;-D  And good work JudasFM & Ponch.  I think if you both added a few more sex scenes in your work it would have pushed you over the cusp to victory, but I understand that you value your artistic integrity. ;)

Excellent contest administration, Mandle! (nod)

See you all again for the hopefully Hallowe'eny theme next time!

Also, a very small nitpick: "But if you really want to know then yes, there are two dungeons in this castle but no one can find the key for one of them and the other one is full of cheese. We don't solve problems that way in Daventry." That is a very stupid idea and speaks very bad of Daventry. Every country everywhere and at all times has some kind of crime. Not using the dungeon implies that they deal diffrently with criminals and there really aren't that many options: Maiming, execution, ect. And it also usually means that sentences are passed out without a proper court of law....

Let's get to the crux of the problem here: Graham, likeable as he is as a guy, is really quite a crummy king.  He gets so obsessed with helping individuals and being nice that he misses the broader picture and avoids the hard choices for the greater good.  Instead of governing he's off gallivanting in the tropical islands.  Instead of hunting down the pickpockets and thieves that seem to plague his realm he's off treasure hunting.  Basically he's a feudal Jimmy Carter. :=


JudasFM.  I got really into the story.  I'd played the AGD Kings Quest 2 Remake like a decade ago, but have never played KQ3.  But thanks to your story I looked it up and downloaded the AGD version.  I thought you did a good job developing the antagonism between the teenager and his dad.  My beef would be that the Queen seemed a bit flat, but I get that the true story revolved around Graham and Alexander.

Sinitrena.  I thought this was the most creative entry.  Not quite an autonomous character, but a sentient one: very interesting.  The horrible Edge-of-Tomorrow reliving of the worst day of her life was poignant.

Ponch.  'Cause, heh.  Yoda knows how to have a good time on a Friday night. (nod) 

I thought Mandle's entry was good and funny, but I think it'd have to be knock-your-socks-off amazing to earn votes coming from a contest administrator, so... SNUBBED!  But it made the contest more interesting having more entries, so I'm all for administrator participation in the future.

@ Sinitrena: Yeah, I got into deadline trouble and really couldn't put the amount of time into my work that I usually do.  I'll make sure to think about starting sooner next time. (laugh)

To be honest, I don't know about this new voting system. ;)

I remember, as the grand old man of this particular competition board (except for Ponch, who is sometimes grander and always older, but I digress), that this idea of contest adminstrators entering came up back in '15.  I forget whose idea it was, but he was a spry young buck with an impressively tall pickelhaube spike and a mischievous glint in his monocle.  I think in the end the consensus of the writing regulars was inconclusive. ;-D

Well, I am known for my diabolical scheming.... (roll)

Well, I got there in the end.  I haven't done any proofreading or link-testing or anything, but I think I got it all up and posted.  Now it's off to bed: tomorrow's a work day! :=

To begin your adventure, turn to Post 12

It's Canadian Thanksgiving right now, so I won't be properly sober until Monday.  If you can hold the contest open until then, I can have my story done, I swear! (nod)

Add spoiler tag for Hidden:

   Donning your black cloak of haunting evilness, you tip toe with your tire iron over to the upturned hotrod.  The occupants inside are cursing something at you, but their voices are muffled by the traffic that nonchalantly swerves to either side.  Quickly you pop off the hubcap and start cranking on the lug nuts.

    Flashing lights draw your attention.  Uh oh, it's the fuzz!  Luckily you already have what you need.  Surreptitiously leaving a hologram of a doughnut with long sexy legs on the bumper to distract the cops, you steal away into the darkness with your prize. 
   Fast as lightning you find the jack out of the Baronmobile's trunk and swap the wheels.  The new one is a bit small, but it should do until you get back to your lair.  You're back on the road, baby!  Hopping inside once more you hit the gas, wobbling unevenly off into the night.

Turn to post 33

Bah, I'm still not done.  And I'm drunk.  This is like the first contest I've missed in three years.  It was bound to happen sooner or later.  It's enough to drive a fellow to drink.... :=

Add spoiler tag for Hidden:

   You decide to call for a tow-truck.  Despite the state-of-the-art weapons and propulsion systems, the Baronmobile has by comparison an extremely primitive communications system.  Mindful of the honking of passersby you reluctantly hook your telegraph wire up to the nearest road-side cable and attempt to broadcast an all-channel TMW (Tow My Wreck).  Patiently you wait for a response from the network, vaguely aware of a gathering crowd of gangsta-looking fellows down the street.  Alarmingly they seem to be setting off semi-automatic fireworks and moving in your direction.

   You consider hiding in the blast-proof cocoon of the Baronmobile, safe from all danger in its steel and nano-tube womb.  Or you could make a dash for it on your emergency utra pogo-stick.  Decide fast: they are coming!

If you decide to hide in the Baronmobile, turn to post 25.

If you decide to cut and run on your emergency ultra pogo-stick, turn to post 31

I'm half done, but I'm so swamped right now with work.  I could have it in if you'll give me Friday night.

Add spoiler tag for Hidden:

   You are so tired after a long night on the road.  These misadventures are murderous at your age.  Oh man, and there's that writing contest thingy that you've been putting off.  What is it, like 4 am?  Gah!  Maybe they'll give you another extension.  You reluctantly hit the post button and slink off to bed.  Yaaaaaaaaaawn.

You are a lazy prat.  The end!

[This space reserved for a FWC entry coming in a day or two]

This was six days ago.  I'm worried that Ponch is too awesome to follow through on this one.  Maybe we should stage a Texan-style intervention with square dancing and Indian arm burns? (nod)

Add spoiler tag for Hidden:

   You jump on your emergency ultra pogo-stick and bounce merrily to freedom, cackling maniacally as you do so.  Buwuhahahhahahaha!!  Now there is the smoggy glow of sunrise on the horizon, and the rays of a new dawn fill your brooding soul with hope for the future.  Mayhaps you were unable to bring the world to heel this wretched night, but your day will come.  One day you will be victorious in your quest to dominate a loosely affiliated retro-gaming society on the internet, and through them the entire human race!  Biding your time you bounce merrily along, bouncing and biding, biding and bouncing, into the happy brilliance of a new beginning.

You are awesome!  The end

All these submissions make me think that I really should get started on continuing my introductory sentence.... (roll)

Add spoiler tag for Hidden:

     Seething at your correspondent's ill-refined sense of hue and saturation, you quickly type out some block-cap words that a greater man than you might come to regret.  You are on the verge of pressing send when a small, fluttery sensation holds you back.  What is that?  Conscience?  You're pretty sure you had that excised back in '98 along with that nasty three pronged growth on your inner thigh....  No, wait.  Operation Fuzzy Pickle!  You'd almost forgotten that you need to keep in Ponch's good graces in case you need to activate him as a sleeper agent.  You wouldn't want all that low-res subliminal hypnosis to go to waste....

   Blast!  You decide you'll just have to swallow this one, like a bitter pill of cadmium and brussel sprout juice.  Maybe it would be for the best if you just took a break.  You could kick your shoes off and graft some implants down in the sprouting chamber, or maybe you could squeeze some more soylent blue out of one of the mimes you have harnessed to the back-up reactor for a bit of a midnight snack....

   Before you can decisively end a paragraph with a solid period your cavernous layer is rocked by an earth-shattering luminescence.  WTF?!?  It had better not be another planetary invasion by that god-like alien race of Sentient Plasma Hiccoughs....  Last time it took two solid days working the phase-vac and the squishemizer to get them bottled up.  Come to think of it, where did you leave those highly-radioactive, highly-unstable re-purposed soda bottles?  But this seems more like a temporal distortion anomaly than a pan-dimensional phase portal anyway.  Curious, you to investigate.

Turn to post 18.

Split posting really is the way to go.  It's liberating in an artistic, Jackson-Pollock-meets-Lost kinda way.  I recommend all entrants try it.:=

Add spoiler tag for Hidden:

   You decide to relaunch your failed bid to activate the temporal disruption ray.  Last time you got so far as siring a super race of sonic death blob-fishes before chronotonic instabilities brought the whole paradox crashing down.  The melt-down convergence of realities would have surely destroyed your whole castle-lair-place if not for your quick-thinking use of your handy toilet plunger to send the fiery paradox slushing around the galactic plumbing down in the anti-matter spectrum.  Sure, it'd probably gurgle back up eventually to overflow your entire dimension with chronodoxical half-nonsense and various other meta-corporeal fluids, but by that time you figure you can recklessly set loose an even bigger, nastier paradox to kick its ass.

   You start fiddling with some of the more deadly phase inverters in your doodad drawer when you hear an ominous clunking sound coming from the spawning chamber above.  Uh oh!  It sounds like you might have accidentally rammed the wrong power adaptor into Mrs. Baron's universal serial port, thereby hyper-charging her.  You hate it when that happens!

    Past experience dictates that you have only moments before she bursts upon you in full erotic death-lust.  Last time she tried to surgically impregnate you with her eggs and suspend you upside down in the sprouting chamber as food for her writhing proto-spawn.  You only barely managed to escape by feigning a headache and escaping down the main bilge duct.  But by the sounds of it she's now juiced to the nines, so that trick might not work again.  Throwing caution to the wind you activate the temporal disruption ray and hope for the best!

Turn to post 18.

Awesome! 8-)

Add spoiler tag for Hidden:

   You decide to cower like a turtle in your sleek and powerful Baronmobile shell.  The gangstas swarm around outside, trying to bash your lights with sledgehammers and scuff your chrome work with steel wool, but all to no avail.  Inside your impenetrable mobile fortress you are a god-king of patience and old Archie comics.  You idly think of zapping them with your inverted voltage field, but decide that it is more degrading to let them exhaust themselves in their futile pursuits.
   You laugh maniacally at your brilliance, accidentally slamming your clenched fist onto the emergency auto-eject button.  You soar eagle-like into the air, and at the apex of your arc your parachute engages, bringing you floating slowly down into the midst of your reinvigorated enemies.  You have the taste of hubris in your mouth as you descend relentlessly down to meet your fate.  Hi fate!

You've been a real pantload!  The end.

I was thinking about joining the competition, but I write quite slowly in English, and I didn't have much time to write in the last few days. Also, I'm not sure if my story is any good.

Fear not, my good friend.  I write exceedingly slowly, and I'm definitely not sure if my story is any good. ;-D  Sometimes you just gotta take some artistic risks and put your work out there. ;)

Add spoiler tag for Hidden:

You decide to retire to the spawning chamber with Mrs. Baron, but first that will require plugging her in.  So many wires, so many different adaptors.....  Darn thing doesn't.... *grunt* like it... *grrrr* it used to.  There!

   You emerge sweaty and a little greasy from behind Mrs. Baron's universal serial port.  Her blood-red eyes begin to glow menacingly, indicating that she is booting her naughty girl software.  “You really know how to turn me on!” she rasps, shaking her chassis suggestively.  Then she stops, eyes blinking with thoughtful processing.  The hue changes to old-lady-lilac, indicating that she is switching to nag-mode.  You panic and try to reach for the kill-switch, but her crampons snap at your feeble effort.  Then she spits out icily: “Did you remember to put the garbage out?”

   Gah!  The hated garbage chore!  You should never have vaporized that hunch-backed henchman who used to do it for you....  But there's no sense dwelling on the past.  Not unless you're prepared to bring the temporal disruption ray back online.  That would take some serious tinkering and cursing, not to mention tampering with the town's electrical grid again to juice it up properly.  But it'd still be better than putting the garbage out.  Alternatively you could just sneak out in the Baronmobile, banking on Mrs. Baron's fed-up-and-do-it-myself algorithm to kick in and make her do the gargabe.  So many choices!

If you decide to bring the temporal disruption ray back online, turn to post 27.

If you decide to take the Baronmobile for a cruise, turn to post 13.

I might need an extension of several months to make my new format work. (roll)

Either that, or we need to relax the rules for double posting. ;)

Add spoiler tag for Hidden:

   A blazing aura of searing meta-light has erupted into being in your cavern.  You idly wonder if it might turn out to be a more efficient way of roasting marshmallows, but soon you become aware of the dangerous creeping expansion of the tear in the space-time fabric of reality.  Now is not the time to play the blame game of who created what.  Now is the time to turn tail and run like a little school girl!

        Diving for the bilge duct you are engulfed in a blinding waft of eight million degree meta-light.  For a short moment you consider that your evening could have been better spent.  Then, rather than walking into the light, you are instead atomized into the all consuming para-photon flood.

It's been an enlightening experience.  The End

General Discussion / Re: Toronto Meet-up (Toques 2017?)
« on: 24 Sep 2017, 20:20 »
The Friday ship is sailing.... ;-D

I know I'm asking for trouble disobeying a direct request from the contest admin, but I'm experimenting with a bold new cutting edge format for my story.  It's like, I'm taking the Adventure Game genre to vivid and reckless places, you know?  But it's all about the art and the creative process.  The pen is mightier than the light brigade and all that.  How do you fit a muzzle onto a typewriter?  How can I touch your soul if you keep blocking me, bro?  How do I get off this crazy train called... dystemporal articulated pseudofiction? :-\

Add spoiler tag for Hidden:
   You decide to PM Ponch, your favourite virtual sparring mate.  He makes himself out to be some kind of shoot-from-the-hip Regulator from the wild-west, but he's actually just this sweet gender-confused cow from New Jersey with a flare for sassy bravado.  Not that you're one to share your shrewd deductions: the charade of him working as a roughneck by day and as an aspiring aerobics instructor by night in some sweltering desert state serves you both well.  Truth is a fleeting mistress on the interwebs, and you'd much rather build a mental image of your favourite correspondent wearing jeans and spandex rather than jogging pants and Miracle Whip.

   “Spare me your hot flashes of pity,” you begin, “and check out this pre-alpha build of my latest creation!”  You limp purposefully to the breaker panel and flip a giant lever, resulting in ominous clouds of electric pulses emanating from the impressively huge machinery in the cavern.  You throw back your pickelhaubeless head and cackle with venomous glee.  “It's alive!” you howl.  “IT'S ALIVE!!!1!”

   You hit send and then you go and fix yourself a sandwich, giving Ponch time to try your new creation.  You make sure to fix an olive on top with a toothpick, just like a mini one-eyed pickelhaube-wearing Baron.  “Oh no you didn't, you naughty little megalomaniac!” you say to the olive, revelling in your moment of glory.  “You didn't just bend the rules of gaming science, oh no.  You shattered them with an iron fist!  And... what's that?  You think I should have...  But what do you know about game design theory?  No, it was an intentional reference to archaic user interfaces.  It was supposed to be clunky, that's the whole point!  Do you know, there's only room in this cavern for one raving genius!”  You eat the olive, crushing it to pulp with your teeth of rusty steel.

   Your computer trills a happy note indicating a reply has been posted.  “Why the purple eyes?” you read.  That bastard!  It's clearly merlot-red!  This is the last straw!

If you smite your colour-blind foe with words of shock and awe, turn to post 29

If you decide to take the Baronmobile for a cruise to vent some steam, turn to post 13.

The continuing saga of awesomeness continues! :=

Add spoiler tag for Hidden:
   You decide to take the Baronmobile out for a spin.  You descend to the haunted depths of the garage bay, careful to avoid the caninoid's sleep-mode basket so that his murderous death-barks don't alert Mrs. Baron.  After passing through many biometric scans and emergency bulkheads you emerge into the dingy wasteland of the garage bay.  Truthfully you should rename this sector, as it is mostly just jumbled storage of abandoned projects and Christmas ornaments.

   But there, at the front near the aft-receiving gate, is your pride and joy.  A metric ton of black-chrome and rocketry, replete with retro tail-fins and a sleek command turret.  The Baronmobile can go from zero to 140 in the blink of a monocle glint, and sports more accurate missile capabilities than a North Korean birthday party.  In moments you are behind the ergonomically designed control panel, tearing up the substandard paving surfaces of your low-tax municipality.

   You pull up to a stop light next to a gangsta hotrod with multiple exhaust pipes and some Spanish hip-hop blaring.  The driver inclines his chin at you and revs his engine.  You wave back cheerfully while secretly activating the lateral spatula mechanism that flips his car over on its roof.  The light turns green and you deafen anyone within 69 meters with the outrageous decibel output of your mach-three-capable turbine engine.  You roar with maniacal laughter: Buwuhahahahahahahaha!
   But then you hit some kind of glass debris on the road and burst your left drive-tire!  The auto-fix mechanism fails to engage, probably because you forgot to reset it the last time you used it.  Blast!  In a state almost as deflated as your tire you pull up to the curb.

If you decide to call a tow truck, turn to post 37

If you decide to go steal a tire from the gangsta hotrod, turn to post 42.

General Discussion / Re: Toronto Meet-up (Toques 2017?)
« on: 22 Sep 2017, 01:54 »
But it's paid for, and I'd lose all the money!

Not necessarily.  A witty fellow such as yourself, with dashing good looks and minty fresh breath to boot, can surely negotiate a deal with those flirtatious airline employees.  They're always overbooking flights anyway, so they'd probably be more than happy to oblige. 

But even if you do lose it all, can you really put a price on seeing Ryan Timothy drunk on fermented poutine gravy? :=

Also, Baron, who would even be serving poutine that early? (laugh)

You, Madame, have clearly not gone on enough all-night benders in Kitchener.  By morning the traffic arteries are practically choked with gravy and squeaky fresh cheese curds.  ;)

General Discussion / Re: Toronto Meet-up (Toques 2017?)
« on: 21 Sep 2017, 01:24 »
Errrr... would a morning meeting be more convenient for more people? :D

Sorry Babar, but during the week is insanely busy this time of year.  But if you skip that flight thingy we're golden man.  Friday Freewheeling, Baby!  We'll put the Oh! back in T.O.  Waddaya say? :=

I too will be writing my story on the instalment plan.  Enjoy! :-D

Lost in the Baron

   You lean forward in your faux leather chair, squinting through your monocle at the pixels on the screen.  Perhaps the merlot-red was too ambitious a hue for the glowing eyes of a semi-sentient death droid sprite.  The gaming public would probably follow you to current-red, even to garnet-red, but merlot-red was clearly a step too far.  You take a sip of whiskey distilled from the tears of young children while twisting your rakish goatee pensively. 

   Blood-red.  It really had to be blood-red.  It was a death-droid, after all.  Nobody cared that it secretly had a heart of gold, maiming and culling in the most humane way possible to spare its victims any extra suffering.  Nobody cared that it really preferred long crawls on the beach, hunting fat guys in Speedo bathing suits in the surreal glow of an apocalyptic sunset.  It was all just wasted character depth: all they would really see is the metallic killing machine.  And metallic killing machines have eyes that glow blood-red.

   Except blood-red was a trifle obvious.  Everyone would expect it.  You take off your pickelhaube and use the razor sharp spike on the top to scratch at a nagging itch between your shoulders.  You can see the gamer review titles now:  “Typical Baron Fare, Mad with Mediocrity.”  In a fit of pique you fling your pickelhaube against the wall where it sticks spike first, the vibrating metal humming murderously.  “So they expect blood, do they?!?” you shout, the words echoing manically through your cavernous lair.     

If you PM Ponch your witty repartee to that quip he sent four hours ago, turn to post 15.

If you retire to the spawning chamber with Mrs. Baron, turn to post 22.

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