Post by Franny Stein on Oct 14, 2014 3:16:30 GMT
Entry 1
Time: Unknown
Date: Meaningless
Location: Old Quarry Caverns
The following is a journal designed to keep my sanity under a situation of great duress. I’m writing to you now from a set of caverns that may as well be considered the ninth circle of hell or some great slime kingdom created by an angry and forsaken God. If you are reading this I can only pray you find yourself in a better situation than my own.
My story begins well like yours I imagine: for whatever reason, like a bad dream, or a plot from some tired genre of fantasy, I have now found myself stuck within the walls of some other hostile world. It is no comfort that I somewhat recognize this area as being pretty well not too different from a game I had been playing recently out of curiosity. It makes little sense regardless that I would recognize any world that isn’t Earth. It’s just as well, as I figure my opinion matters little in any present situation. I’ve done my best or as well as any of us could do, at least, to the point where I am now forced to admit, that I am lost.
The caves then, are well as you could imagine are quite dark. Crawling with low level slime monsters, the consistency of the stones around every inch of my body are not unlike some kind of throat of snails. It is very stalely damp and the cool, foggy, humidity stinks. I try to ignore it. Though I’ve made my way thanks to a number of makeshift torches, it really does not take light to detect the lurking slimes. One doesn’t have to strain your ears to hear their gurgling movements and I am thankful that I am equipped with a means to fight from a range.
***
Entry 2
Time: Unknown
Date: Meaningless
Location: What must feel like a wet rubber factory.
I’ve found myself here because I have had otherwise no other choice. You might think me insane, but believe that I have nothing left but truth when I state honestly that I am being followed. The reason, is not hard to explain: I am a Summoner. Specifically, within the game, I may as well have been considered not unlike a Necromancer. What follows me then as one must understand, what I am running from, is nothing less than a nightmare of my own creation, I am stalked by a beast of the dead. The thing clatters horridly like some broken puppet and it is sickening to watch it move almost desperately to reach you. It does not tire and seemingly out of pure instinct engaged some monsters it encountered while I was busy getting very far away. It is a thing of violence. Worse still, to look upon it, where its eyes should be, you will find only nothing. As I made my way through the beginner area, it continued its approach and for quite some time I made good distance until I imagine it only inadvertently cornered me in this maze.
The clicking. I can hear it now as it approaches, no doubt waylaid by some number of slimes. That sound, is something I imagine I would be hearing in my dreams if only I had time to rest. I write currently in a rush as I begin to again move. If only it were not mine, I think I would welcome a settlement to our bout. With one of us slain this situation would be over by any means. But I am its summoner. We are invincible to one another.
Should there be a third entry, I hope it’ll be under better circumstances, only now I’m off, the thing yet comes.
***
Entry 3
Time: Cave Time
Date: No idea.
Location: Some dank passage
Greetings from the world of slime! Allow me to report that the situation has not changed in the least though I fear that I have, probably, for the worse. The lack of sleep is troubling and I fear that the entire situation has now become ridiculous. My sanity is likely to the point of deterioration and I feel with no small amount of rage that this cave cackles at my every misstep and with the greatest glee only patiently waits for my next move in this act of comedy.
Though there were rumors of the suggested testing of it, we cannot yet be sure how much of this world functions along the older logic of the game. I would now welcome the opportunity to become the first test rat in the experiment on death, if only to escape from this purgatory of goo. Still, I hesitate while knowing that such a situation likely looms in my future. The means of my death are sure to be horrid. Such a fact would give anyone pause.
***
Entry 4
Time: Cave Time
Date: No idea.
Location: Pit
Because it is business as usual, I won’t bother to elaborate on more of the same. Instead, allow me to make mention of the signs in these parts as a means of distracting myself. If you are reading this you probably have the skill and are well aware of Mythic Script, but what you may not be aware of is a more recent trend in its usage.
While Mythic Script is generally a temporary thing when used on the environment, in an area such as this one, their longevity can be surprisingly convenient for leaving messages for other adventures along the walls. I believe the trend began as a clever adaptation of a system from some other game or series that has been considered something of a classic. Anyhow, when moving along in any dungeon such as this one, it can sometimes be to your benefit to keep an eye out for such left messages.
Generally, the trend I have noticed is that such signs will tend to offer useful advice on monster formations, hidden treasure, or general topography while you advance. For further benefit, there is even a makeshift system of markings that seems to have been invented to rate a message which helps to guide your impression of it. It’s very simple, if you find the message to your benefit you simply put a tally underneath it. In general, I have used such messages to get as far as I have gotten till now. While there has been a lot of noise along the lines of communication such as some trends of highly rated gibberish, human nature has generally prevailed until now.
I write to you now from the bottom of a hole located only three paces in front of a highly rated message minimalist message which reads “Safe ahead!”
If only I could shoot the messenger.
Even still, I have had no choice but to make peace with my situation. This pit, is undoubtedly a trap. I can feel the slimes coming. Such things are not sentient, but I imagine they sense me and are eager to approach. Their level I have noticed has been increasing as I’ve moved forward, and these are likely beyond my capacity to deal with. I’ve only barely managed before. They approach from the only exit in this hole, a shabby tunnel forward, and a route likely only deeper into this dungeon.
Even now I hear the rattling of that other thing making its way toward me. It’ll fall just before me, and grant me one last look at its horrible visage just before we are slain. I’d like to smile at it, to let it know that I am glad to be free of it. It probably cannot comprehend such human malice. So for now I put this aside and wait. It will be soon.
This is likely farewell, friend.
***
Entry 5
Time: It appears to be roughly morning
Date: Likely three days after the cave incident.
Location: Knights of The Shot Guildhall and Alehouse
I write to you now from a bar with the intention of burning this journal just shortly after. I’m getting some strange looks as I scribble this for ordering something so early, but they may mind their own, I’m Irish and it’s been rough.
Let me tell you what happened. At the moment I last left you what occurred was more or less like I had predicted. My charge Mr. Skeleton arrived shortly after the slime’s arrival and upon arrival went to meet it at blows. Likely through a case of tired delusion, when he landed before me face to skull as though some kind of hero, what seemed to occur was a kind of impossible, odd, understanding between us. It still chills me to think about it, how the thing’s bones shoulders turned as a wall to meet them. With his act, what he seemed to impress upon me was some insane emotion of kinship.
My monster charged to meet the force of slimes and held as long as I imagine he damn well could. In the chokepoint I threw I don’t know how many fireballs until we were finally overrun.
Something in my heart ached to see the poor monster sink under the weight of them. Like something out of Terminator 2 (a classic, see it sometime) he went under slowly with his sword raised in defiance, fighting to the last, to either sate his bloody hunger, or in my tired mind’s generous disposition, for the sake of seeing me to safety. It was a hopeless gesture, but at that moment there was valor in that grotesque form. Needless to say, shortly after, we both died very, very hard.
When I awoke I was in the game’s church. To my good fortune it would seem as though death is cheap in our brave new world. Dusting myself off and far worse for wear, I marched to a bar, where I now pen this.
It seems a waste of effort to destroy such a work after such effort in keeping up with it, but this journal has served its purpose in somehow seeing me through. I consider it a shame that we will not get to meet, dear reader, though both of us still alive perhaps, just maybe, will manage in some other form. We will not be able to mark one another with any semblance of familiarity but that’s just as well. I look forward to our meeting. Treat me well would you?
As for my monster, my boneknight of a haunting presence, I have considered his fate and mean to make amends. No matter how horrible, such a thing is nothing less than my own. I’ll make peace. The situation will never change otherwise whether it is this reality, or my place within it. Nothing will change unless I take the effort to step forward. I owe that horrid thing that much. He made the effort so I’ll make him anew. His effort shall be my own. At the very least I am not alone.
And with that tacky, totally embarrassing sentiment, I put this whole episode to a rest. So long dear reader, I’m tossing this memory upon the flames. I'd like to forget anyhow, this entire stupid situation. So that’s that except it isn’t.
God I’m tired…
Mo.Pro. End.
Time: Unknown
Date: Meaningless
Location: Old Quarry Caverns
The following is a journal designed to keep my sanity under a situation of great duress. I’m writing to you now from a set of caverns that may as well be considered the ninth circle of hell or some great slime kingdom created by an angry and forsaken God. If you are reading this I can only pray you find yourself in a better situation than my own.
My story begins well like yours I imagine: for whatever reason, like a bad dream, or a plot from some tired genre of fantasy, I have now found myself stuck within the walls of some other hostile world. It is no comfort that I somewhat recognize this area as being pretty well not too different from a game I had been playing recently out of curiosity. It makes little sense regardless that I would recognize any world that isn’t Earth. It’s just as well, as I figure my opinion matters little in any present situation. I’ve done my best or as well as any of us could do, at least, to the point where I am now forced to admit, that I am lost.
The caves then, are well as you could imagine are quite dark. Crawling with low level slime monsters, the consistency of the stones around every inch of my body are not unlike some kind of throat of snails. It is very stalely damp and the cool, foggy, humidity stinks. I try to ignore it. Though I’ve made my way thanks to a number of makeshift torches, it really does not take light to detect the lurking slimes. One doesn’t have to strain your ears to hear their gurgling movements and I am thankful that I am equipped with a means to fight from a range.
***
Entry 2
Time: Unknown
Date: Meaningless
Location: What must feel like a wet rubber factory.
I’ve found myself here because I have had otherwise no other choice. You might think me insane, but believe that I have nothing left but truth when I state honestly that I am being followed. The reason, is not hard to explain: I am a Summoner. Specifically, within the game, I may as well have been considered not unlike a Necromancer. What follows me then as one must understand, what I am running from, is nothing less than a nightmare of my own creation, I am stalked by a beast of the dead. The thing clatters horridly like some broken puppet and it is sickening to watch it move almost desperately to reach you. It does not tire and seemingly out of pure instinct engaged some monsters it encountered while I was busy getting very far away. It is a thing of violence. Worse still, to look upon it, where its eyes should be, you will find only nothing. As I made my way through the beginner area, it continued its approach and for quite some time I made good distance until I imagine it only inadvertently cornered me in this maze.
The clicking. I can hear it now as it approaches, no doubt waylaid by some number of slimes. That sound, is something I imagine I would be hearing in my dreams if only I had time to rest. I write currently in a rush as I begin to again move. If only it were not mine, I think I would welcome a settlement to our bout. With one of us slain this situation would be over by any means. But I am its summoner. We are invincible to one another.
Should there be a third entry, I hope it’ll be under better circumstances, only now I’m off, the thing yet comes.
***
Entry 3
Time: Cave Time
Date: No idea.
Location: Some dank passage
Greetings from the world of slime! Allow me to report that the situation has not changed in the least though I fear that I have, probably, for the worse. The lack of sleep is troubling and I fear that the entire situation has now become ridiculous. My sanity is likely to the point of deterioration and I feel with no small amount of rage that this cave cackles at my every misstep and with the greatest glee only patiently waits for my next move in this act of comedy.
Though there were rumors of the suggested testing of it, we cannot yet be sure how much of this world functions along the older logic of the game. I would now welcome the opportunity to become the first test rat in the experiment on death, if only to escape from this purgatory of goo. Still, I hesitate while knowing that such a situation likely looms in my future. The means of my death are sure to be horrid. Such a fact would give anyone pause.
***
Entry 4
Time: Cave Time
Date: No idea.
Location: Pit
Because it is business as usual, I won’t bother to elaborate on more of the same. Instead, allow me to make mention of the signs in these parts as a means of distracting myself. If you are reading this you probably have the skill and are well aware of Mythic Script, but what you may not be aware of is a more recent trend in its usage.
While Mythic Script is generally a temporary thing when used on the environment, in an area such as this one, their longevity can be surprisingly convenient for leaving messages for other adventures along the walls. I believe the trend began as a clever adaptation of a system from some other game or series that has been considered something of a classic. Anyhow, when moving along in any dungeon such as this one, it can sometimes be to your benefit to keep an eye out for such left messages.
Generally, the trend I have noticed is that such signs will tend to offer useful advice on monster formations, hidden treasure, or general topography while you advance. For further benefit, there is even a makeshift system of markings that seems to have been invented to rate a message which helps to guide your impression of it. It’s very simple, if you find the message to your benefit you simply put a tally underneath it. In general, I have used such messages to get as far as I have gotten till now. While there has been a lot of noise along the lines of communication such as some trends of highly rated gibberish, human nature has generally prevailed until now.
I write to you now from the bottom of a hole located only three paces in front of a highly rated message minimalist message which reads “Safe ahead!”
If only I could shoot the messenger.
Even still, I have had no choice but to make peace with my situation. This pit, is undoubtedly a trap. I can feel the slimes coming. Such things are not sentient, but I imagine they sense me and are eager to approach. Their level I have noticed has been increasing as I’ve moved forward, and these are likely beyond my capacity to deal with. I’ve only barely managed before. They approach from the only exit in this hole, a shabby tunnel forward, and a route likely only deeper into this dungeon.
Even now I hear the rattling of that other thing making its way toward me. It’ll fall just before me, and grant me one last look at its horrible visage just before we are slain. I’d like to smile at it, to let it know that I am glad to be free of it. It probably cannot comprehend such human malice. So for now I put this aside and wait. It will be soon.
This is likely farewell, friend.
***
Entry 5
Time: It appears to be roughly morning
Date: Likely three days after the cave incident.
Location: Knights of The Shot Guildhall and Alehouse
I write to you now from a bar with the intention of burning this journal just shortly after. I’m getting some strange looks as I scribble this for ordering something so early, but they may mind their own, I’m Irish and it’s been rough.
Let me tell you what happened. At the moment I last left you what occurred was more or less like I had predicted. My charge Mr. Skeleton arrived shortly after the slime’s arrival and upon arrival went to meet it at blows. Likely through a case of tired delusion, when he landed before me face to skull as though some kind of hero, what seemed to occur was a kind of impossible, odd, understanding between us. It still chills me to think about it, how the thing’s bones shoulders turned as a wall to meet them. With his act, what he seemed to impress upon me was some insane emotion of kinship.
My monster charged to meet the force of slimes and held as long as I imagine he damn well could. In the chokepoint I threw I don’t know how many fireballs until we were finally overrun.
Something in my heart ached to see the poor monster sink under the weight of them. Like something out of Terminator 2 (a classic, see it sometime) he went under slowly with his sword raised in defiance, fighting to the last, to either sate his bloody hunger, or in my tired mind’s generous disposition, for the sake of seeing me to safety. It was a hopeless gesture, but at that moment there was valor in that grotesque form. Needless to say, shortly after, we both died very, very hard.
When I awoke I was in the game’s church. To my good fortune it would seem as though death is cheap in our brave new world. Dusting myself off and far worse for wear, I marched to a bar, where I now pen this.
It seems a waste of effort to destroy such a work after such effort in keeping up with it, but this journal has served its purpose in somehow seeing me through. I consider it a shame that we will not get to meet, dear reader, though both of us still alive perhaps, just maybe, will manage in some other form. We will not be able to mark one another with any semblance of familiarity but that’s just as well. I look forward to our meeting. Treat me well would you?
As for my monster, my boneknight of a haunting presence, I have considered his fate and mean to make amends. No matter how horrible, such a thing is nothing less than my own. I’ll make peace. The situation will never change otherwise whether it is this reality, or my place within it. Nothing will change unless I take the effort to step forward. I owe that horrid thing that much. He made the effort so I’ll make him anew. His effort shall be my own. At the very least I am not alone.
And with that tacky, totally embarrassing sentiment, I put this whole episode to a rest. So long dear reader, I’m tossing this memory upon the flames. I'd like to forget anyhow, this entire stupid situation. So that’s that except it isn’t.
God I’m tired…
Mo.Pro. End.
