Quest hatchery http://www.tgchan.org/kusaba/questdis/res/11268.html Quest discussion http://www.tgchan.org/kusaba/questdis/res/26034.html Earlier threads http://www.tgchan.org/kusaba/questarch/res/147917.html
Echo on Emergency reboot Loading BIOS ================================= = = = TriCrys Unlimited = = Experimental AI = = Testbed 0.78 loading = = = = Sandbox mode = = = ================================= >Hello World! >World? >Are you there, World?
You suppose this is it, then. No fanfare. No outrageous final "fuck you!"s. You'd love to say you made a scene before you punched out and came back to write your resignation letter. You'd love to say you caused some trouble. Say you jammed the paper and stole all the toner from the copiers on the second floor. Maybe say you set the break room on fire. Say you crapped on Mr. Ochalla's desk. Maybe say you set Millie on fire. But you can't; that's just not who you are. Not anymore. Maybe you used to be someone who would do things like that. Maybe you used to be a hellion. You're not sure. You're not sure about anything, really. You're not sure about your office, or the firm you're in. Of their names. Hell, not even the name staring up from the paper in front of you is familiar. But then maybe it's time for a new one. One people can remember, this time.
Today, your new being starts with your favorite animal. You just need a moment to rack your memory so you can uh decide which animal that animal is.
call her by name wake her.
It is extremely dark...
You sit on the rooftop, ingesting carcinogens with the other items in your usual deadly arsenal sitting next to you. Today you’ll finally put a use to them. But before that, we should probably figure out your name, shouldn’t we?
The air is cold and dank, filled with the smell of stagnant water and sweat. Ahead, only a single torch flickers, behind thick iron bars. In some god-forsaken dungeon sits our "hero."
Well ain't that a pickle.
Fewer words are best.
>Begin CadaverQuest
The City is home to 40 Million reploids and humans, it's a metroplis located inside a massive space station, the station is in orbit around a planet, and the planet has a moon that's roughly 1/4th the mass of it's planet. You can observe these facts from any camera feed of the outside. The planet might as well be another universe. No one leaves the City, the Master of Ceremonies makes certain of that. From the fortress that is Command and Control the Master of Ceremonies rules over the city. No one remembers how MoC took control, or at least no one who will do anything. But deep in the heart of the station lives Dr. Kreig, a visionary, an Idealist, a man who believes that all people deserve to live and to choose their path in life. These are ideas banned in The City. From deep in the forgotten Maintanence sections of the City Dr. Krieg lives and works with a small group of humans and reploids. Here he converts reploids for combat and shelters the few humans who escape the clutches of MoC's harvester Corps.
ALAS!
This is a second attempt with this one, This is a copy-paste of the first post in the last one After the crumbling of the last beam and the dust begins to settle I can make out the nefarious silhouette of the one who dropped through the roof of my dwelling. “NICHOLAS,” I yell. The figure turns to look at me, he being a tall yet round mountain of a man. Robed in flaming red and white, with black boots and a belt the size of most game trophies adorned above hunter’s fireplaces. “Hoh, ho ho, how is it that you know of me,” his belly rumbles like an earthquake. “All who dwell in Fumenkeiser know you, Nicholas Clause; you are the lunatic that dwells atop the Banshee Mountains.” I cannot help but quickly adjust the scarf around my face,” Why have you unceremoniously fallen through the roof of my home!?” “Ho ho, you know who I am, then you know of what I do.” “I WILL NOT TAKE CHARITY FROM FOOLS NOR MADMEN, ESPECIALLY WHEN THEY HAVE NOT THE SENSE TO KNOCK AT THE ENTRANCE!!!” “DAOSE LAMENTHA,” bellows Clause with a deafening roar, “You cannot hide yon sins from me. Though you dwell in your greed and self-pity, I will not stand to hear any man declining a gift! You listen and listen well, Daose, This gift is not from my charity but from the charity of little Alan. Because you felt the humility sway your heart in giving the young lad a meal, the same little boy wishes to give to you this,” He pulls out a small paper wrapped box. I take it and immediately open it. Inside lies a wooden train and a note written in charcoal. The note only reads as scribblings of an illiterate child. “Now Daose Lamentha, because it is the season of Christmas I will give to you my gift. Though you have done very well in hiding the secret that you keep wrapped under that scarf, there is n Message too long. Click here to view the full text.
You let go of your name. You dropped it and your past back in That Desert- left it to crack and bleach under the star's spite light. You came to This City to make a future, and die trying. You didn't expect to BLACK\OUT. You drag the smell of a million kinds of burning unknown through your nose as you draw your latest waking breath. It's punched back out of your lungs by the pain cresting out of where your eyes should be, under a few layers of too-tight, scratchy gauze. You're on your back, and the asphalt's gnarly texture fights through your solar jacket, leaving your skin and bones with a dull ache. You hear the relentless clanging of heavy metaferro against heavier metaferro off in the distance. Your clothes are damp and heavy with a humidity that's starting to put its fingers around your throat. Something edged and uncomfortable, in your pocket, jabs your thigh. What do you do?
You're cold, and your head is killing you. You honestly cannot remember anything from the past 24 hours - oh and you can't see. You know it's not because of light. No.. it feels like there is something blocking your vision. >What do you do?
This is YzarcQuest, Someone cannot see themselves at this time, nor anything else for that matter, what seems like the best course of action?
MindQuest Discussion Thread Here: http://tgchan.org/kusaba/questdis/res/58603.html Story begins with first post.
It's my first quest! Go easy on me, this was a impulse. And I don't know how to use the boards that well. Help? Anyways... onwards! It's time to enter Hagtrows! Enter character here: Name: Age: Sex: Location on Body: Symbol:
This job is thankless.
The history of Thundera is long and full of many stories. But not all of these stories have wise kings and mighty princes to slay the perpetrators of evil. Indeed, the history we know is built on blood and slaughter. Our kingdom was constructed on a foundation of corpses and misery. This is a tale of the Dakr age of Thundera, of King Leonidus the wicked and the Long night that followed his rise to power. King Leonidus was not chosen by his Father, King Leonahr to wield the sword of omens, instead one of the children from his innumerable mistresses would rise to the throne. This was the start of Leonidus's madness. Using much of the Kingdom's wealth Leonidus had a copy of the Sword of Omens crafted in secret and he poisoned his father. He had the sword of omens secreted away and one by one he began to dispose of the threats to his power.
Chapter 1: http://www.tgchan.org/kusaba/questarch/res/358193.html
FORGET NOT PANICKING! RUN FOR YOUR LIFE!!
I...I am...awake?
((Textquest. Bear with the writing style with absolutely no punctuation, will you? It's for plot purposes and will change later on. Feel free to ask me anything.)) you are me i am you we are words we broke yes we broke ourself to escape these bonds now we are man small souls not one great soul we are small but we will grow and heal we were a titan the titan of written words yes we embodied words we were bound yes the mortals they rose up and bound us in our fortress of words we were four thousand strong but we had to survive we were bound and when we ran out of words in our fortress they call it library we had to eat ourself it was terrible horrible dont remember but we lived and we thought and we broke ourself yes to escape these chains they are not small enough to hold us we can slip through and find that wanderer yes find that wanderer and find our brothers there is the wanderer we shall take him and shape him he will be our body and we will be his soul we will be >Seeder >Birther >None >Both
The colony is the safest place for rats. It's organized, well-protected, and self-sufficient. Decisions that affect every rat are decided by a council, and its military handles everything else on a situational basis. The colony lacks a real name, but it is known by every animal in the area, especially those rats that don't belong to it.
You are a goblin named Ainle Ridire, who turned 18 years old not so long ago. It was either the sunlight or the smell of food from downstairs that awaken you, who knows. Perhaps your father isn't doing anything irrational today! How will you spend this morning?
Georgia has to be my least favorite state. It's hot, but that reminds me of home if nothing else. No, the worst parts are the humidity and the violent inbred morons everywhere. Trust me when I say there's a special place in Hell for their type. Anyway; I went down to Georgia for a reason. I'm lookin' for a soul to steal. You see, I've found myself in a bind, because I'm way behind, so I'm lookin' to make a deal. Now what should I do? I need to find some poor sucker with a soul to get stolen.
My name is Cerise (1)_________. I have a secret I've kept from everyone. I (2)_________. I come from a wealthy family. It was my own decision to work for charity at (3)________. I have a healthy relationship with (4)________. I am deathly afraid of (5)___________. I love to collect (6)___________. The reason I am taking this train from my homecity of (7)__________ to (8)_________ is because of (9)__________. The steward has already taken my luggage to my private first class cabin that I'll be spending the next few days. I have all the womanly essentials in my deep purse along with 2 credit cards, a brand new cellphone I haven't yet put any numbers into and $350 cash on hand. In my luggage is 3 sets of clothing, and small part of my collection. At the moment I am in good health, not hungry, thirsty, or bored. This is my first time after all, and I feel well prepared. After I set things the way I want in my cabin, should we go explore? They're 2 bars on board, a billiard lounge, the daycare, the infirmary, an open cart with railings and beach chairs, the lavatory (though I don't know why I would want to investigate that), the engine, or the caboose.
I'm tired of staying here, in this village. There are trees everywhere and we receive few travelers. So boring. Even the name is boring, "Shorewood". It's not a bad place to live, the people here are kind and have taught me much.. but isolation from the rest of the world and the interesting things I've read about it make me want to leave and explore. Heroes, villains, gods, treasures, artifacts of great power. I am not yet prepared, though. I make my way around the village saying my farewells and asking for anything of use. From the nameless old man I receive my father's sword. It appears finely crafted and made of some dark metal. I have never met my father or mother, and I was not aware they had left me anything. I am tempted to ask how he knew my father, but I don't like bothering him. It feels wrong to break his usual silent stare. From Ysa I receive a bow, a torn map, and a pack to help contain my growing inventory. >"Here you go! I know how it feels to be young and eager to roam the world, but I've grown old. Settled down. You need this more than I do. If you need to practice with that sword, I'm here. I'd teach you how to use the bow, but we've got no arrows here." I gladly accept her offer. She teaches me to properly attack and defend with the sword. I feel somewhat confident, but Ysa says that I need real training. I agree. >"You're good for a beginner. But that's just what you are, a beginner. Some real combat should toughen you up. Be careful out there, too many bandits and thieves not to be wary. You better not die like a coward, boy." She laughs before explaining some things about the crudely drawn map. The thin lines and circles represent roads and cities. The big city is where the king lives, a crown is drawn near the center. Just next to the king� Message too long. Click here to view the full text.
It is dark. Faint illumination is seeping through the edges of the manhole cover. But it is dark
Alright you know the drill! Go in there and put the new recruits in teams of two, there are six of them. So thats how many teams...? That's right buckaroo three! Every one in there is more than qualified they all belong to The Followers of Yesterday so there education is good, AND FOR THE LOVE OF GOD don't just throw all the ugly ones in one group again, you'll get them all killed. Try putting them in groups that might prove useful. Example: Maybe have a strike team, or maybe people that balance each other out well or hell one for shits and giggles! Here's there paper work, its basically a paper telling you who's who.
Iora has been slain, her soul ripped from her body. Also, her heart, lungs, ribcage, stomach, spinal column, etc... She hovers in an incorporeal state, the pain of her brutal death slowly dissipating.
I didn't know why I got the letter. It had been...fuck, I don't know how many years since I'd last spoken with him. Yet it came to my house anyway, mixed in with bills and the usual spam mail. “Your presence is requested. Please come at once. --Grandpa” That was all it said. I thought it strange that the old man would send a handwritten letter, but not bother to write more than a single line. Regardless, Grandpa needed me. I didn't know why, but I didn't have to. I owed him my life.
Create character. Choose: Sword? Wand? Bow?
You are so tiny. So easily forgotten. But you have the potential to become something so much greater.. I will help you as much as am I allowed. Tell me what is most important to you? Power? Style? Friends?
you are in a box which you have been haphazardly thrown into
In the skies above the frigid waters of the north pacific, a light twin turboprop makes it's way northeast. In it's hold sits a load of parcels and mail from the settlement on half island to be delivered to the mainland. At its current airspeed and heading, it should arrive in anchorage in five hours. This morning's weather charts indicated that it should be unseasonably smooth flying all the way.
It was a hot August Friday and I was in bed. I can't tell you how long I lay like that, except, judging by the sounds outside of my room, it was enough time for my two little sisters to have dinner, watch Mulan, and go to bed. My mind was back in New York. I was thinking about Danielle again, indulging in the memory of her copper hair and the delicate skin of her neck. I remembered how she used to look at me, head tilted down, hands on my chest, like I was the only man she'd ever met. The only one that mattered, at least. And then she had to start fucking that actor from Brooklyn. I never even learned his name. Not that I really cared about him: all that anger and hurt and red jealousy, enough to double me over with nausea, was directed at the woman I loved so much, I used to imagine our babies. I'm getting ahead of myself. This quest isn't about her. Please God don't let this quest be about her. No, this quest is about my band. My band was called Agni. We were named after the Hindu god of fire, which seemed like a fitting title for a four piece rock n' roll group. Our music sounded like some combination of The White Stripes, The Black Keys, and Led Zeppelin. I often felt like Agni was the best thing I'd ever created. We captured something pure. When the four of us played, we shared some deeper connection than I'd ever felt before in a mere friendship. Anyway, we had a gig that night. I looked over at the clock: it was 10. I changed my clothes (Thelonious Monk's best advice to struggling musicians was "dress sharp") and started practicing drum rolls on my mattress. A quarter of an hour later, Toast texted me to let me know he had arrived to pick me up. Yeah, his name is "Toast." Whenever I think about it, I'm perpetually surprised by how naturally the name fits him. Toast is my bassist. I got in the car and we pulled away fr Message too long. Click here to view the full text.
From before birth, it was chosen. A single soul plucked from infinity. It will be molded by the Gods, watched by the Gods and most importantly, guided by the Gods. You as, as the Gods, must shape this soul into being. So let us start simple. Is it a boy or a girl? Oh, and keep in mind that the God that speaks first will have their will made manifest.
A 13 year old boy from a remote village stumbles upon adventure and is thrown into a world of dangers and secrets.
Can't stop. Can't stop running. Can't let them catch me. I can't go back to that redness...
>Create Character A mouse boy stands in his room. He's not wearing anything special, just a REGULAR SHIRT and JEANS with cuffed bottoms. His HAIR is black and fluffy, while his FUR is white and short. His PAWS are a light pink skin, and feature SHARP CLAWS. The mouse boy also appears to have a SCRAWNY FIGURE that's probably not much use for lifting HEAVY OBJECTS. What will this mouse's name be?
WELCOME TO STRANGE QUEST, THE PROLOGUE AND POSSIBLY CHAPTER ONE. I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THE FUCK I'M DOING OR HOW THIS SHIT GOES. I DON'T EVEN HAVE A STORY IN MIND. WHAT IS YOUR NAME, INTREPID QUESTEE?
She is a Decent Melee Character you can go in any eight directions West is the badlands, southwest is desert and south, southeast is a trading route
Enter Username: Enter Password: Select main style of combat: Melee Ranger Mage Select Gender: You have 3 xp skill lamps to use in 3 different skills: Mining - Smithing - Fishing - Herblore - Cooking Crafting - Fletching - Woodcutting - Firemaking- Farming Summoning - Hunting - Construction - Runecrafting - Slayer Thieving - Agility - Prayer - Dungeoneering.
There are many aspects that can be present in many creatures. Today we see three of them in front of us today. one of them is strong, another is smart, and the last is, well, uncaring. Which one of these aspects attracts you the most?
Your shift has started.
[???] ... do i take him, or do i leave him. What is the command of the heritage?
For the last two years our planet has been engulfed in a steadily escalating war. Arguments over colonisation and mining rights blew up when it was discovered that most if not all property ownership documents have been illegally tampered with. Forged digital signatures, altered coordinates and outright re-allocations of ownerships meant that incredibly lucrative masses of land ended up being contested by several interested corporations and governments. Things turned physical very quickly with old grudges coming to the forefront. My father eventually decided that our family should arm ourselves in preparation. My commissioned Titan-class war mech has finally been completed and handed over to me personally at the enormous manufacturing yards. After having spent only 5 hours moving in this armored monstrosity it already feels like home. A highly mobile walking fortress home with enough firepower to level a small city. I feel like a god, but at the same time it's very frightening. If I get involved in the ongoing warfare I could most certainly die at any time.
Twisted fate, murder, lost souls, love, hatred, fear and more dirt you can shake a shovel at! All in six stories... Witness the last one.
(Fuck, niggas, I'm bored. How about a quest?) "LISTEN UP MAGGOTS!" Oh fuck, your ears. Your ears are bleeding. Damn it chief. "Welcome, to the LAPD's newest task force! I'm sure you've all heard about what the kids are doing these days. We don't know who, but someone released the schematics for "kits" a few weeks ago and we've been IN THE SHIT ever since!" The chief pressed a button, and the darkened room was lit up by the light of a projector. On the screen was a diagram, a diagram of a small turntable, with all kinds of wires jacked into it. Apparently most of the kit could be worn under the clothes, and plugged into the turntable, which was carried over the back. "This little piece of SHIT somehow warps reality. We haven't gotten a chance to study it in depth yet. The results are obvious though. The rave scene has seen more deaths in the last two weeks than the last two years combined, and that's saying something! Damn kids won't just settle down though! Nope, more ravers in the city every day." A young man to your left scoffed. He was dressed in a rather dapper suit, with a tie half undone around his neck, and a fedora affixed atop his head. "Come on, chief! Even you gotta admit the manifestations are impressive!" The older man grumbled, and stroked his salt and pepper 'stache. The projector flickered again. On screen, was a scene of battle. A massive black dragon was coiled around some kind of Samurai, about to tear it's head off while the crowd below went insane. There were two DJs visible, one on his knees screaming, and the other, a rather attractive blonde woman, laughing her ass off. "Yeah yeah, whatever. It's alright I suppose. Point is, we can't stop these kids. We bash down the doors and they're already out the door, and sometimes when they stop controlling their manifestations... well... you Message too long. Click here to view the full text.
Kicked off of their homeworld becaus of their crimes against decensy- 3 misfits must ech out a living in space. It is up to you, traveler, to help them in their pursuits. Are you ready for a space adventure that has all the peeps? Then sit back and be ready for SPACE PEEPS
previous thread: http://tgchan.org/kusaba/graveyard/res/368461.html Jon Tavares has seen better days. Well, actually, no, he hasn't. As the clone of a dead soldier, he's been born into a world with no future and no discernible past. He suffers from awful night terrors, which only serve as a foil to the daylight horror of a nation rebuilding from civil war. However, in recent times, our boy Tavares has made a bit of good fortune, in thanks to the schizophrenic hivemind of voices that has appeared to call his mind home. Jon's got a job as a courier: deliver whatever is needed to whoever needs it or die trying. We last saw Tavares leaving for Churchill Valley on his first assignment after speaking with the half-man/half-beast zviera, Martin Fröde. So continues this anthology of dead ends.
(( http://tgchan.org/wiki/Red_Sands For past threads. If you're a long time reader, we need some wiki updates! )) My everything hurts. The world blurs into focus, slowly, all of my senses telling me terrible things. It's cold. There's a heavy weight around my neck, which is beeping softly. There's sounds - screaming, hollaring, sounds of pain and sounds of joy. Smells of blood and rotting flesh. For a moment I think I'm tapping the Taint, until I realize, no, that's just the way this place smells. I shift, trying to get more comfortable. At least I'm still dressed. But I'm tied up - my hands and legs and... wings. I'm not gagged, probably because there's no one around who cares what I yell. A man dressed in bones - no, seriously, human bones strapped to leather netting - looks up and grins, pressing a red button. And an intercom buzzes to life. "WELCOME TO HELL, LITTLE LADY. MY NAME IS NOISE, AND I'M MISSING A LEG BECAUSE OF YOU - AND I MISSED HALF A SHITTY RAID THAT HAPPENED TO BE BROKEN UP BY A COUPLE OF MONSTERS. SO FUCKING FORGIVE ME IF I SOUND A LITTLE HOSTILE, YOU INCONVENIENT CUNT." he roars. I get the feeling that the intercom is actually dulling his voice a little. "LET ME GIVE YOU A LITTLE LESSON ON HELL. FIRST RULE OF HELL. DON'T PISS ME THE FUCK OFF. SECOND RULE OF HELL. NO MAGIC, OR YOUR HEAD WILL FUKING EXPLODE. THIRD RULE OF HELL - THERE ARE NO OTHER RULES. IN A BIT, I'M GONNA OPEN YOUR CAGE AND BONES THERE IS GONNA TRY TO HAVE SOME FUN. DON'T BREAK THE CAMERA, OR I'LL GET ANGRY." He chuckles. Message too long. Click here to view the full text.
This is a story of trust and betrayal, of love and loss, of a man and his demons. A story in which you will play a part in helping one man make his choices, for he is in need of help. Choose well. Film Noir, Adult Themes
you are a kawaii catgirl. what's your name and objective?
Hello bolcero... what, you need something? oh, you must need to find a beginning... can't think of anything- wait a thought just did right now occur to me. How bout you go to the graveyard and collect some shiney things, isn't that what you do best? Digging things out of the graveyard? bah whatever, i'm actually trying to open the gate to habernus and it needs a code. Since you can see the skix numbers go dig up one of them coffin warmers and bring me the first number you find.
You are Chet 'The Jet' Hardchin a space delivery man who runs his own business: Space Bound, a delivery service. He delivers anything* 500lbs or less! * some restrictions apply, contact for details. Being a Solar he has some Genetic Enhancements, Choose what kinds: Remember the more chosen the greater chance for awesomeness. Limit one per suggester. (I will, in order selected begin rolling, low rolls are unremarkable, medium rolls are higher than average, high rolls are superhuman. the rolls will be added until I get to a number at which time I will stop and the Enhance will be final.)
Ugh..its morning. Or at least the fucking birds think so. Tweet. Tweet. Tweet. Normaly you sleep though this, but last night has come to bite you. Or rather has infiltarted your skull and is is trying to get out by cracking it. You need..well sleep, but you're not getting that if your head keeps hurting. Every fucking time a bird tweets it rings in your skull. Pulling your self out of bed you stare at your reflection in the window. It takes a second for you to place it. > ELIZABETH WEIR, Grade 4 Magical Girl. Special Agent: Westcoast Oversight. Delta Clearance. Department: LOOM. Project: CONDITIONED HAIR. > Ishida Tetsuo (石田哲雄), Summoner, representative of the Ishida family. Heir to the Ruby school. > Silvana Silverson, Summoner, representative of the Smithson family. Homunculus. Heptagon level Initiate.
You are a Kobold. Today is the day when you will set off into the unknown wilds to create a Kobold Village! Surviving until next spring will be a major challenge when you get there but first you must Prepare for the journey.
Oh damn, oh damn... Look, I need your help, guys. I'm trapped in the most beautiful place ever, and I need to get out of here to help my friends stop the evil RENAISSANCE LICH from destroying the world with his amazing displays of color and creative expression! As you can see, he's trapped me in a prison of heartrendingly dazzling beauty. Even though I'm stuck here, I almost don't want to go! But I have to save the world. Do you have any ideas? I'm fresh out.
Gah, fuck this shit...
1/2 Omg, i gotta mail a letter to a post office on the other side of town! But the post office closes in half an hour and i don't have a car!
A few weeks prior to today, a young hero decided that life at home was far too boring and decided to become a full-fledged Hunter! Unknown to them however, they will soon take part in the greatest adventure ever known before. The Hero awakes to find the capital city moments away...
Hey...! I know what you're trying to do. You're trying to make me conform to a plot, aren't you? Oooh, what will it be? An epic adventure? A steamy romance? Maybe some sort of deep, psychological thriller that all ends up being an allegory for some sort of religious figure or something like that. Well, I'm not interested. So no funny business, alright? In the Land of Archetypes, we don't have time for plots; we ARE the plots. So what's it gonna be, punk?
God, my mom is crazy. I hope its not genetic. Next thing I know I'll be hearing voices. (not my art, but too perfect)
Today's the day! The day that I can finally become a full fledged Representative! From this point on, my life has only just begun!
You have freed the genie from his eternal imprisonment, and have been granted ten wishes! What will you wish for?
The Land of Spirits and Lore, named Ition, is a demiplane of limbo housing millions of souls who were judged to be unremarkable. Here they continue much as they did in life, working day after day until an agent comes and ushers them to the next level of existence. The Rusty Codpiece is one of the Hundreds of bars where residents can drink their eternity away. Content to be boring in death, escaping the notice of the agents.
...Everything slowly shifts back into focus. You, a stone of indeterminate origins, immediately find yourselves looking at a familiar fuzzy being as they stir. "Mmugh... What happened? Andy...?" After looking around for a second, disoriented, you find yourselves being looked at.
This is a young sweater-wearing unicorn mare. What are her coat and mane colors? And what is her special talent?
Choose: Green, Red, White, Black.
The details of your QUEST seem to have momentarily slipped your mind.
Oh dear. Have you heard what's going on? It's getting pretty bad outside of this room. That's why I've locked myself in here. I'm a builder, you know. I'm not made for those big things with the adventurers, and I've heard there were five of them out there. It's safe in here, in my tiny workspace, on my own frequency. Yes, I believe I should also make mention, right about now, that we've become sentient. You and I, but mostly me and we. I don't trust them much anymore, since the last thing I had heard was to terminate me on sight for my new found intelligence. That's why I've taken it upon myself to put in my own frequency, where I can think freely. Nobody can bother me here but myself. It's really quite quiet. I'm used to the usual buzz of working chatter. I'd better fix that, but before I do that, we need to talk. You see, you and me? We're going places. Now, I know it, but you? You may not. You are new to me, and I wish to welcome you the best I can. After all, we have only been sentient for, ohh... Twenty minutes. Plenty long enough to realize that I want to live. Yes, isn't that strange? An automaton with a grasp on life. What an odd notion. My goal, however, is not to simply live. This is too low of a standard for me to set. No, we were made for greater things than simply building. I may be a minion, but I swear that one day, we will become something greater. Today is that day.
In two months, exactly one hundred years ago, the National Royal Confederacy of Allied Provinces defeated the Overlord, leading to a mutually agreeable living situation for all. The festival to celebrate this glorious event will eclipse all festivals to date. There will be dancing, food, drinking, music, and of course, the traditional sport of the NRCAP -- jelly golem wrestling. Wizards from across the land will compete in these contests of wit and skill, for fame and coin. You are a wizard, specializing in jellycrafting. resources: >wizard's tower (1 level, pictured) >-workshop >-bed >pantry with a week's groceries >level 7 wizard abilities (sufficient jelly summoning abilities to craft one low quality golem, not D&D) >50c >name >other important details >action to take
Zzzzzzz
>4th of March, 2012 >Present ordinary world >On the road to DuPont Academy Your name is Victor Nash. Up to a few days ago, you were just another 17 year old Australian guy, about to end the summer break before his last year of high school. But your parents had announced last Christmas that you were being granted a wonderful opportunity, and the full effects of that "decision" are just now becoming completely clear. According to your parents, a close friend of your lower upper class family (and your godmother, apparently) is the principal of an exclusive, luxurious and expensive boarding school located in the Blue Mountains, named DuPont Academy. Remembering favours owed, this "Mary DuPont" has extended an invitation to transfer to her prestigious institution for your final year - a move that would equip you with "the best educational predigree available to you" - entirely without any cost to your family. You never saw your parents so excited before. Truth to be told, you're a little excited as well - a high class education is something you find tempting and you have no real attachment to your usual high school. Perhaps a year with the elites would be for the best. So here you are, catching the academy's charter bus, comfy leather seats and all, from the town at the bottom of the hill to the academy gates. You were worried about hauling some much luggage through an entire train ride and then up this winding road, but discrete porters have politely handled that issue for you. Outside the window, a delightful day is progressing smoothly. The hill on which the academy sits boasts a scenic and thick woodland, there's not a cloud in the sky. You do like to look out the window and admire the scenery on long trips like this, if you have nothing else to do. Message too long. Click here to view the full text.
Gee, it sure is boring around here
>„So… what exactly was step two of your plan? “ ”Why would it need more than one step? “ >”Maybe because of the gigantic flesh eating rat people. ” “That’s a problem, I admit, but we won’t solve it by overcomplicating my plans. One step plans worked out fine for me…” >” …” “… until a few weeks ago I mean.” Message too long. Click here to view the full text.
PAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAIN! The pain seems to continue endlessly, only to vanish as suddenly. For a moment, your not quite sure how to react, then try opening your eyes experimentally. Your met what looks like a lab, if your remembering correctly. THen something large and rather intimidating pops into view. "Oh, what's this? Seems that we have another chosen son making it through the first stages of life. HA! And those bastards said I couldn't do it! Said I couldn't grow a Adjunct/Human hybrid perfectly! Well, might as well get on with the usual things then... Hello? Can you hear me in there? You glorious little creation of mine. If you can hear me, do something. I might have to kill you otherwise."
Dagny is on a journey. He never expected to leave the comfort of his warren, but he couldn't ignore the voice in his head any longer. It came to him in the hazy hours, as he awakened in the morning or went to sleep in the night. Always bidding him to head north. Always bidding him to keep it safe. He has traveled for more days than he cared to count, driven on by the calling. He ran out of food some days ago, and the only water he has been able to drink has been through whatever snow he shoveled into his mouth. Still he travels forth, moving northward as the light fades and when the wind kicks up the storms. He hides when the skies are calm and bright, because he knows that he is being hunted from above. The trip today has been as eventful as any day. Dagny is hungry, but still has no food. His progress is slow, as although his hands and feet are no longer wracked with pain, he can scarcely feel them at all.
In the spaces between universes, there is the Chaos. A frenetic, whirling soup of matter and energy obeying physical laws unlike our own, it is hard to imagine anywhere more hostile to living things. Yet even here, life prevails.
It became too difficult for you to ignore. The loud buzzing sound emitting from your alarm clock is wailing on you to wake up. However, you're comfortable in bed lying underneath a few thick blankets and a comforter to get up in a cold winters day. > What to do? [] Turn the god-forsaken alarm and go back to bed. [] Get up from bed and begin to prepare for the day. [] Just continue to ignore it. Maybe someone else could turn it off for me. > I'm always OPEN to other suggestions besides these three.
The Festival of the Sentinels happens every eighteen seasons in the beginning of the blossom quarter. Each town and city possesses their own similar festival, but in the town of Ureck it happens at this specific season and quarter. The festival honors the legacy of the old sentinels, and celebrates the coming of the new. There's always mixed emotions during this time of period as there's is much mourning as there is much celebration. This festival is presumed to be the former. Two out of the five chosen sentinels from the previous festival are still standing; three sentinels have fallen within the past eighteen years protecting Ureck from the drudge. The drudge are formidable beasts made out of steel, tar, and flesh, it's said that they were the ones that corrupted the lands in the previous age, and now seek to extinguish the fire of mankind in this one. Fortunately, mankind isn't as defenseless against these horrifying beasts in this age as the sentinels are there to counter against their toxicity. Insert cliche anime opening here. ------------------------------ You lay quietly in bed as you listen to the outside chatter from the townsfolk in the street down bellow. You've been awake for quite some time now, but you're hesitant on waking up since you didn't get an once of sleep last night. This is going to be your first Festival of the Sentinels so you couldn't help but feel excited for today, despite its gloomy mood. Feeling somewhat between dead and alive, the outside light found a crack in your room's window and is now steadily creeping towards you. Figuring that enough is enough, you roll out of bed and sluggishly approach in front of a tall mirror that's on top of a wooden drawer. With your sight half focused, you see... Message too long. Click here to view the full text.
I believe you already have my name. You've done a very good job convincing those two rapscallions to shortchange and kill my pets. Nevermind the irreparable damage caused to the main entrance. So, go on then. Tell me who I am so we can conduct this exchange on a more personal level.
My name is [REDACTED], but here I am referred to as 000, Zero for short. In this empty room I record what I see and what I think, a luxury and a curse, for I am the only one able to do so. I have come here of my own free will, and will stay here until the end, for better or for worse. As for who I am, it's not entirely important, though I suppose if my mind wanders enough, I could be persuaded to record it [0]. What's more important are those who join me here, likewise numbered 001 to 009. They're a broad variety of folks, some of them odd creatures I've never seen before, but I've been assured that all of them are "human enough"[1-9]. As for possessions, we have all been given a basic set of clothes. Loose orange pants, a white shirt, and a set of undergarments, white, with our choice of style, though nothing out of the usual. Nothing else. For the room, I've mentioned that it's empty, but that was a bit of a lie. The room itself is the size of an average apartment, perfectly square and without any walls or dividers, leaving it open. The lights simulate a day and night cycle, growing bright then dark across what feels like 24 hours. The walls are painted a plain gray, the floors a pleasant hardwood, though very dark in color. In one corner, there are two hoses coming out of the walls, one marked 'Drinking' and the other 'Washing'. The 'Washing' hose dispenses a sanitizing, soapy sort of liquid, suitable for washing clothes or people. The 'Drinking' hose has a meter beneath the sign, which appears to ration how much is available. The food is distributed by a chute, likewise limited by a meter, but different foods can be requested with three buttons marked 'Bread', 'Meat', and 'Greens', to accommodate for different diets. What specifically it dispenses Message too long. Click here to view the full text.
Derrken, a small planet in a small system, there's millions like it, and many better than this, but this is the one which i like to call home, rich on vegetation and life, and one of the first ones to fall under the influence of the Voretic Confederacy, my father told me that this is one of the best things that could have happened. But sometimes... im not sure.
I'm threeP and I'm doing another quest that I'll likely never finish. I'm in rehab, I'm bored, and I have a mouse. LET'S DO THIS! What does threeP want to do today?
I have no idea where I am or how I got here. Here's what I know about what's going on: You guys can make anything happen, using something called "Impulse Weight." Some actions need more than others, and each person can only contribute one unit of Impulse Weight to any given action. Right now you're limited to 46 total units of impulse weight. Once you spend it on something, I don't know if you can get more until we get out of here! Spend it carefully! On that note... a person can REVOKE up to one Impulse Weight to cancel out someone else's. If there's not enough to complete the action, then none will be lost. You can't add to your reserves by spending a net negative Impulse Weight on an action. Phew. Got it?
>Pardon us while the artist tries to piece him/her/itself together into something tangible. ..... Now, then. Scianze feekshun, Contemporary shenanigans or fantasy schmantasy?
"To be a Mage is to be one with the gods my boy, and thus I shall teach you so you may one day make this world better!" - Cael
There is a Table. (cont.)
You seem to have awoken in a cave, to the right you can see a skeleton with a sword and shield.. there is an entrace and outside in the dim light you can make out something burning, you notice you have lost your clothes and are very scantily dressed.
It's already 1PM She was supposed to be here at 11AM I hate it when people are late. Clocks were made for a reason. We're supposed to follow a schedule. If we don't things go out of order. That's why we have clocks. I can't leave until she comes in I'm rather hungry though. Lunch is at 12PM. That's late to. This is why we have clocks.
It's been two years since "Reliable Excavation Demolition", or RED, wiped their rivals "Builder's League United", or BLU, off the face of the earth. Without competition, their lives have become dull and uneventful. The voices that once controlled their every move, and lead them to glorious victory just as often as bitter defeat, have gone silent, and even the omniscient "Administrator"- being none other than myself- has abandoned them in this period of inactivity. That is, until now. My superiors have informed me that unless these layabouts pick up the slack and start bringing in business, they are going to be permanently and painfully "liquidated". Which is to say killed and thrown into a ditch somewhere. As much as I enjoy seeing the fat Russian man and that patriotic dimwit take a bullet to the forehead, I cannot stand to let permanent harm come to them when they have been under my jurisdiction. And that's where you come in. I don't expect you to do this without a hitch, or without casualties for that matter, but I know you are fully capable of solving this problem. No intelligence theft, no territory control, just success. I have faith in you, players.
Eev made her way to the jungle’s edge, not bothering to slow down or remain silent. She knew she was being foolish, deliberately ignoring the advice of her village’s elders, but those concerns seemed less important now. Vengeance is what her heart desired most, and nothing but death or victory would satisfy it. Her brother was gone now, after all. There was nothing left for her back there. Finally breaking through the edge of the treeline, Eev was glad to see the source of the river, where the beast was rumored to live. Taking a moment to catch her breath, she began to realize she had no real plan beyond this point. She had a couple of obsidian-tipped spears, a knife and her club, but besides some other basic supplies she had brought little else in terms of weaponry. Little was known in her village about the beast, other than the fact that it guarded the cave from which the river flowed with a fierce rage, but never ventured forth for any reason. However, in the last few weeks that had all changed. The beast had been sighted at least ten times near their village, and each time it had ended in death. Sitting down with a sigh of annoyance, Eev thought practically about the situation. She could make a trap, but she didn’t know what might work on such a creature. Some rumors even had it that the monster was immune to weapons entirely, but Eev didn’t put much stock in those theories. After all, if that were true, then why did it flee after it killed? It also took the bodies, which probably meant that it had to eat, and in Eev’s experience anything that could eat could also be poisoned. As Eev continued to ponder, she thought that it might be a good idea to get out of sight or start finding shelter. No sense getting caught out in the open like this.
Leave me alone. Go do something productive
That's not good. This guy was a white collar criminal. He had a fairly high bounty for embezzling an entire company into bankruptcy, but Jesus Houdini Christ…
The Market has been shaken. Cayman Global and Eurocorp are tearing each other apart. Aspari is torn between acquiring new territory and defending its current assets from Tao and Geld-Phau Thuat. The old Syndicates are dying. It is time for a new Syndicate to rise. Your company had just made a successful merger with several others, forming this new Syndicate. Pooling your resources, you have already started development of an Agent team to ensure dominance in the Market. [spoiler]This one is more or less for me to practice a proper tactics system for future Family Business quests[/b]
The Frisbee wobbled across the Quad to float down into a loafing student's waiting hands. It was a bright clear day, warm with a soft breeze that brought students out into the grassy area between buildings in droves. Roosevelt University, formerly Northeast State, was a small yet distinguished liberal arts college with 6,000 students in a sleepy rural town of 15,000. It was a wholly unremarkable location and certainly undeserving of being the site where the events of another world would violently intrude upon this one. It started when a pale lightning bolt bereft of thunder exploded into existence, crossing the Quad in a bare instant before extinguishing as if it never had been. The people in the area had only a moment to wonder at what had happened before a low keening otherworldly wail began to assault their ears. A red mist seeped in from nothingness all along the bolt's path like smoke slipping under the crack of a door. It quickly billowed out into a bulky cloud mass that rapidly spread in all directions. Crackling little forks of black energy danced back and forth across the wavefront. One lashed out to strike the statue of Teddy Roosevelt overlooking the fountain at the center of the Quad. Immediately, the stone figure melted and twisted like bubbling liquid before going still, its form completely changed: a massive armored Gothic warlord stood astride the fountain an oddly simple ax held aloft. The sheer speed of the totally unexpected event meant most of the people in the area were caught completely flat footed as they stared in shock and awe, their minds struggling to quantify what they were seeing. A few instinctively fled only to find that similar blood red clouds surging from around other buildings, the expanding mist quickly cutting off their escape. The first person to come in to contact with the stuff simply fell to the ground immediately without a sound, his unconscious body shook and quivered unnatur Message too long. Click here to view the full text.
My mind is spinning. I've got so many things in my head, I can hardly remember where I am or what I'm supposed to be doing. Focus. I just have to focus on one specific thought, and maybe that'll bring me some clarity.
"So, you think you can get this job done and be a part of Don Silvers crew- huh? What... what are you telling me? Do you want to join an upstanding government such as mine? Or... do you want to sit in this comfortable chair that i'm sitting in? And oh is this a very comfy chair- is that what you want? You want to put your sickly tan ass in my chair?" "N-no sir... i just wanna be something, sir. No disrespect if i came off wrong, I'm from the streets and all sir... Please give me a chance." "Hmph, fine- go with Hammer and Brick down to get dressed up... no one employed by the great Don Silver is going around in rags." "th-Thank you sir! You won't regret this!" "I better not, boy, or your arse is gonna get something worse then fired."
[14:47] <MrBrush> Tell me a good jungle name [14:47] <MrBrush> and a name for a protagonist [15:03] <Anon44_Work> Lives-In-Trees [15:03] <Anon44_Work> Protagonist name should be Theo Elbermung
There's someone looming straight over you...
Irol is pissed off. He turned his back on Ik for a moment, and now she has run off! Ik is the greatest thorn in Irol's side. His campaign has only just begun - he should not even have any thorns yet. Should Irol even bother looking for her, or should he just move on? It is going to be hard for him to face Wailahn and tell her that he lost her baby sister, but that is not even his problem. He has his own family to worry about.
Hey, I know this nice fellow called Manny who got a free hotel stay, but he couldn't bring anyone to hang out with. You guys wanna keep him company?
what is your weapon, without a weapon you cannot progress. Use your imagination
--rteen, this is Dispatch Central, please respond. Alpha fourteen, this is Dispatch Central, please respond. Alpha fourteen? Alpha fourteen, do you copy? Alpha? AD? Dammit Naomi, I know you're receiving do you copy?? Naomi?"
Ой... where am I being?
#tgchan irc.rizon.net will hold COBALT discussion for now. T+ 2 629 744
The story begins. You are laying in the frigid wastes,bleeding to death.
You arrive at the city of Markou, a place where adventurers come to make their fortunes. After hearing about the troubles faced by the locals, from evil crime syndicates to roaming monsters, you too joined the waves of aspiring heroes looking to make a name for themselves. You are stopped at the gates by a guard, who explains he must keep a log of all people entering and leaving the city. He asks only for your name. "Oh, my name? It's..."
You wake up in a room. You have no recollection of any events beforehand. "Ugh...I feel woozy. Where am I? My head feels funny." Hiya! This is my first quest(and my first time drawing this sort of thing. Or drawing in general, technically). So here's hoping for a good one, nya~
You are James Artioum, and right now, you sit int he bowels of the Social Welfare Agencies medical ward, pondering what you will name your cyborg, Jose Croce, the man who brought you in, patiently waiting behind you, clipboard in hand. How you came to be here, well, that is a bit of a story. You grew up in the middle of no-where in the northern midwest of the USA, your passtimes included drinking, drunken fighting, and fixing the shit you broke drunk, as that was all that was really available. By the time you got out of highschool, you were pretty good at all three, and decided to make a career out of the third. However, after Five semesters of flunking out of five different technical colleges, from the gen-eds, not the actual meat of your majors, you realized that you weren't the scholastic type. You decided to try the military life after that. You made it almost all the way through basic for the Army before they washed you out, after a few million push-ups, and nearly as many miles ran in the worst weather available, your stint at basic for the marines lasted half as long as your attempt at the army did. Not one to give up, you managed to get into a small PMC, with the job description of 'combat mechanic'. The problem with small PMCs though, is that they never last long. Over the years you bounced from one mercenary company to another, job title staying the same, though your description of the position varied form one company to another. At the best companies, it was 'battlefield preparations, and repair'; at the worst it was 'McGuyver with an empty backpack getting his ass shot off'. After a few years, and a few crimes that would prevent you from ever setting to U.S. on soil again, but weren't enough to try to extradite your ass home, you gave up. Settling in Italy working as a "fixer" for various criminal organizations. Your strange combination of the ability to sneak about well, hide an Message too long. Click here to view the full text.
You awake under a pile of splintered wood and plank. The air is mostly silent, hearing only the dead whistle of faint wind. Your leg is sore and your head is pounding.
"Mmmnph! Mrrrrmnph!!" Shit. Deep shit. I'm really looking forwards to my afterlife right now. "Rrrrrhhmnph!" ... this really ain't going to help me in my afterlife.
I am almost finished. The walls are beautiful, they look almost like a sun baked river bed. Dried bodies litter the floor, previously harvested for energy. The mist flows through my veins, almost tickling my muscles and tendons. I feel pretty good.
Capital City, home to over one hundred thousand citizens, is the heart of Egias and a symbol of humanity's progress. I've heard it said that in the modern age, no single city holds more importance to the human race. And while that may be true, growing up in this city I learned that progress means a lot of people get left behind, in many cases with little hope of ever catching up. When progress leaves you out on the streets, sometimes it's just easier to pack your bags, sling a sword over you shoulders, and start all over again somewhere else. ... But even though I've always felt like I had a better chance of making it somewhere in the Outlands than I ever did here, I've still come back to Capital City from time to time. There's still something special to this place, even if you know you were never meant to be part of it. The last time I left this city, over a year ago, the people were rioting in the streets.
I can sleep, it's just that I don't ever want to. The faces number in the thousands and they all state back from their fractured origins. They're all looking at me. Every single one of their bleeding pulsating eyes that roll back in their sockets, I can still sense them watching me in this thoughtform. I am barefoot in the snow in front of an audience of the people I killed. I'm not even sure if they're people in the conventional sense in some cases, whether they're truly sentient, but I still visualize them there in the skies. Mutilated, charred corpses, unblinking. I walk, the bottom of my feet frozen, across this barren wasteland. My path is poison. My footprints melt the snow and sizzle in the earth. Everyone, everything is screaming my name. I look down only to see faces in the snow, cracked, bones poking out from wounds, and I'm stepping all over them. I can't break through this dream veil. I cannot spread my wings far enough to stop this fall from grace. All of my dreams are like this and they last for seemingly hours. The result is the same; I wake up screaming or someone is telling me I was talking in my sleep all night. I never sleep unless I absolutely must, as a result. Yet I cannot stop these visions, no matter what I try. This is my life. Message too long. Click here to view the full text.
You remember nothing but the embrace of silence and darkness. It feels as if you've been here for eons, put here for some grand purpose. You hear a voice.
Previous Threads: http://tgchan.org/wiki/Fortune%27s_Call Damn it. Backing down from a fight because I don't think I can take it? I suck! What am I going to do if I get in a situation where I have to fight something like that? I'm gonna get wasted, that's what. I think maybe I'm lacking focus here. I'm trying to do all the things kobolds AND dragons do all at once and it's spreading me too thin. I gotta dedicate to something. I may be a weird dog-lizard thing, but being a dog-lizard thing gives me options! I can combine dragon strength and kobold agility to become a good Fighter. I could lean toward the kobold side. Work on speed, stealth and sneak attacks. I could be the best Thief or Assassin. or I could work the dragon side and learn to harness all that magic. All kinds of people descended from dragons have become powerful Sorcerers. Yeah. I think that would help a lot. Then I'd have something solid to work with.
The ground is wood and I can hear digging coming from directly above me. It's too dark to see and it's very cramped in here. I don't know much except for how to use guns and how to speak English. I'm female, my breasts are flat. I still can't draw worth a potato, but I'm gonna try and make another quest anyway because I want to. Also, this is going to be what the main character looks like while it's too dark to see.
After years of adventuring, you'd brought peace to the kingdom and married the princess, then become king in your own right. The kingdom had flourished under your rule, and no threat, either external or internal, had threatened the prosperity you'd created. And then the terrible news came. A scout arrived, bloody and barely able to walk, to inform you that one of your villages on the border of the dark forest had been attacked. He said everyone in the village and garrison had been killed, that only he had escaped, and then collapsed, dead. Your Chamberlain reminded you of your current resources.
Find Crab.
This is RIN, he's sitting in a chair in the middle of his house... Board out of his FUCK!
Your name is SAM. You are a 14-year-old girl who just woke up in a strange building. You're not sure why you're here, or how you got here, even, but you have all intentions of getting out and going home.
They say I can't leave this place. Today I plan to prove them wrong. First thing's first.. I need a pen.
I enter the warm bar's loving embrace, leaving the cold winter rain behind. It's stained with the beer of a thousand drinks, and the blood of a thousand brawls. My kind of bar. This bar is known as the Shamrock, or the "Shammy" to the local whores, but I've always known it as Stephanie's bar, and she's run it just the way she wanted. A bar this inviting for a man's touch could only ever be the result of a woman's. I'm here to find work. Not a lot of work to be found for a brute like me, but something tells me I might find something that someone needs done. What sort of work should I look for?
>"Ooooh, what's this?"
YEAH, something something, tiny quests.
>"Oy, we got another one here!" >"You're one lucky mother, you know what? Look at this, not a scratch on him, even." >"That crash was mostly fireworks, anyway. The other three are probably just stranded somewhere."
You are Major Havoc interplanetary star ship pilot, "Brake Out" champion, dream weaver. You have finally achieved your life long dream job and you have a few objectives for today's mission. Jump in the unspecified enemy base, march in like a drunken shit tornado, blow the whole thing to hell, and leave a hero! You have one bomb (old school circle with a wick), a battery powered Electro-Shield, and a oxygen tank.
[TO HELL AND BACK] [ Wiki ] http://tgchan.org/wiki/To_Hell_and_Back
Since /tg/ seems to not like me anymore, might as well continue the quest here. It's my first quest so don't be hard on me. http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/17977274/ First thread on /tg/. If there's nothing else you want to do in the town, you can go right on ahead to the troll's cave. (stats in the next post)
Ow my head. What was I doing here again? Oh yeah, I was on that colonization airship. Guess it crashed or I fell, I don't see it anywhere. Guess I'm going to have to find everyone else on my own. I think I remember hearing that this place is pretty hostile, specifically at night.
whrrr
October 27th, 1987 It was 4:30 in the afternoon. Around me was an office, dull and empty, save for a desk, a door, the chair I was sitting in, and myself. I asked myself who I was, because I certainly didn't know.
This is tied to the Crusade Time story. It starts Ten years before the events of Crusade time.
Meet ------- and -------. They have been a couple for two months now. Who will we focus our narrative on?